by Paige Sleuth
The more she thought about it, the more excited she became about the prospect of discussing the case with someone. She had to remind herself that Willow had asked her to help Julie, not solve her mother’s murder. Besides, what did she think she could possibly learn that the police didn’t already know?
But she knew it was useless to try to suppress her curiosity. The seed had already been planted.
CHAPTER THREE
“Can I give you a ride home?” Kat asked Julie as they exited Jessie’s Diner. Although it was still light out, she felt responsible for the teenager’s safety and didn’t want her walking home alone.
Julie tugged the bottom of her shirt down until it grazed her navel. “Okay.” She skidded to a sudden stop. “Hey, can I go with you to Old Fr—I mean Mrs. Dearborn’s?”
Kat halted next to her. “You want to see Ms. Dearborn?”
“I want to see Voldemort.”
“Voldemort?”
“My dog. My aunt wouldn’t let me keep him, so Mrs. Dearborn took him in. I haven’t seen him in, like, forever. I miss him so much.”
Kat’s heart went out to the girl. How awful to have to leave her dog behind after everything she’d been through. “Of course you can come with me.”
“Jules!”
Kat twisted around, watching as a teenage girl jumped out of a blue sedan and rushed over, her maroon-tipped brown hair bouncing around her shoulders. Like Julie, the girl was thin, looked better dressed for summer than winter, and wore twice as much makeup as seemed necessary.
A boy around their age unfolded his long, lean frame from the passenger seat. At least he looked appropriately dressed for the season, although the colorful, iron-on patches littering his jacket made Kat wonder if he wore it more for show than to beat the cold.
“Brie!” Julie threw her arms around the girl. “I thought you were grounded.”
“I am.” The girl made a face as she pulled out of their embrace. “But Mom’s out on a date with that loser she met last week. You should have seen what he had on when he picked her up. A sweater vest! Can you believe it? That’s totes . . .” The girl trailed off as her gaze landed on Kat.
Kat smiled. “Hi. I’m Kat.”
“Mrs. Wu told me I had to talk to her,” Julie informed her friend.
The girl scowled. “Mrs. Wu should mind her own business instead of always being up in yours.”
“Yeah,” Julie agreed, but Kat thought she blushed as she shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.
The boy nodded at Kat. “’Lo. I’m Dirk.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dirk,” Kat replied, grateful one of the teenagers had deigned to address her directly.
“This is Brianna,” he said, gesturing toward the girl.
Brianna didn’t acknowledge the introduction. “So, you wanna go shopping with us, Jules? We’re heading to the mall as soon as Dirk grabs a soda. I’ve only got, like, an hour before I’ve gotta get back home. If Mom catches me out, she’ll lose her . . .” She didn’t complete the sentence, her eyes flicking toward Kat again.
Kat stood there, mute. She had no idea how to act around this girl. Not that it mattered. Brianna seemed perfectly content to ignore her.
“Can’t,” Julie said with a pout. “I’ve got a ton of homework due tomorrow.”
“So?” Brianna jutted one hip out. “Don’t turn it in.”
“Aunt Elsa will freak if the school bothers her again.”
“She needs to chill. You’d think she’d get enough kicks out of—Hey!” Brianna’s jaw dropped as her eyes locked on to something behind Kat.
Kat was on the verge of asking what was wrong, but Brianna had already rushed past her and was now hunched over the rear of her car. When she straightened back up, she looked horrified.
“Did you see that?” she screeched. “A pigeon just dropped a load on the window!”
Dirk, Julie, and Kat went over to join her. Sure enough, a bird had deposited his business right next to a parking sticker affixed to the inside of the back window.
Brianna fisted her hands in her hair. “Mom’s going to kill me if she sees it. I’m not supposed to be out of the house, let alone take her car. She’s going to know it wasn’t in the garage if she sees this.”
“Can’t you wipe it off?” Dirk asked.
“You mean touch it?” Brianna scrunched up her nose. “Eww!”
Kat had to stifle a laugh at the utter look of disgust etched on the girl’s face. It seemed wholly disproportionate for a bit of bird excrement, but then again, she was used to cleaning up much larger messes made by the cats.
“I heard pigeon poop has, like, tons of germs in it,” Brianna said. “Like, enough to cause health problems. No way am I contracting some nasty disease over a stupid bird.”
“Run it through the car wash then,” Julie proposed.
“I don’t have the money for that.” Brianna clutched Julie’s arm. “Maybe you can lend me some.”
Julie shook her hand off. “I don’t have any money.”
“Can’t you steal some from your aunt?”
Kat rocked backward, jolted by Brianna’s boldness. She was starting to see why Willow was worried about Julie’s current group of friends.
Julie’s eyes darted toward Kat, then she turned her head down and scuffed the toe of her sneaker against the pavement. At least one of the girls had the decency to look embarrassed by Brianna’s suggestion.
“Oh, never mind,” Brianna said with a sigh. “If I washed the whole car, that would be as bad as leaving this mess here. Then Mom would know for sure I took it out.”
Dirk poked one hand in the air. “I can clean the window.”
Brianna’s face brightened. “No joke?”
“Sure.”
Brianna flung her arms around his neck, the red ends of her hair smacking him in the mouth. Dirk didn’t seem to mind. The broad smile that expanded across his face almost reached his ears, and Kat wondered if he had a crush on the girl. She did have to admit Brianna was cute, in a drama-queen sort of way.
When they disengaged from their embrace, Julie grabbed Brianna’s arm. “Hey, Brie, guess what.”
Brianna spun toward her, the excitement on her face mirroring Julie’s. “What?”
“I’m going to see Voldemort this weekend!”
“Your old dog?” Brianna’s lips puckered. “I thought he was with that hag who fostered you way back when.”
“He is.” Julie jutted her chin toward Kat. “Kat’s going to drive me.”
Dirk, Brianna, and Julie all turned toward Kat. Dirk gave her a thumbs-up, and Julie beamed. Brianna, on the other hand, squinted in suspicion.
Kat shifted her feet. “I was headed over there anyway, so . . .”
Julie squeezed Brianna’s arm. “You wanna come with?”
Kat began mentally formulating a protest, but Brianna spoke before she had to.
“I’m grounded, remember?” Brianna rolled her eyes.
Julie deflated a little. “Oh, right.”
Kat breathed out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure she could relax with Brianna sitting in the back seat, passing silent judgment on her driving abilities throughout the four-hour round trip to Seattle.
“You sure Aunt Oldster’s going to let you go?” Brianna asked Julie. She gave Kat a once-over, her lip curling up. “I mean, she could be a serial killer for all you know.”
Kat thought of Carolyn Conway. Could she have fallen victim to a serial killer?
Julie scoffed. “Aunt Elsa won’t stop me from going. As long as she’s got her cats, I could die for all she cares.”
Kat cleared her throat. “Now, I’m sure that’s not true.”
Except for Dirk, who gave her a little shrug, no one appeared to hear her.
“Yeah,” Brianna said. “That’s why she and Mom get along so well. They’re both crazy cat ladies. You’d think Turtle and Tucker had brains the way Mom carries on conversations with them.”
Since he seemed to be the most
receptive member of the group, Kat sidled up to Dirk and whispered, “I’m guessing Turtle and Tucker are cats?”
He nodded. “Brie’s mom dotes on them. Even takes them to get professionally groomed twice a month.”
Dirk pointed to the car’s rear bumper, drawing Kat’s attention to the stickers slapped on either side of the license plate. One read ‘Persians are the purr-fect companions’ next to the silhouette of a sitting cat, and the other featured a smug-looking cartoon feline wearing a tiara positioned beside the words ‘Staff on board.’
“At least your mom cares enough to ground you,” Julie muttered, kicking a stone across the parking lot.
“What are you talking about?” Brianna gaped at her. “You’re the lucky one, having an aunt who lets you do what you want.”
Julie didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes on the ground. Kat’s heart ached for her. She knew how it felt to lack an adult in your life who cared enough to enforce rules. It was isolating. And it didn’t help that Julie had ended up in that position only because she’d lost both of her parents within a short time span.
But she didn’t see the point in mentioning that to Brianna. The girl would likely just roll her eyes—if she even bothered to acknowledge Kat at all.
“Hey, Brie,” Dirk cut in, “we should hustle if you want to make it home before your mom.”
Brianna checked the time on her phone and jogged toward the restaurant. “Text me later, okay, Jules?”
Julie gave her a wave. “All right.”
Kat exhaled as Dirk and Brianna ducked inside Jessie’s Diner. “You ready to head on out?” she asked Julie.
“I guess.”
They walked to Kat’s car in silence. The awkwardness of their initial meeting was back, and it wasn’t until Kat was pulling out of the parking lot before Julie spoke again.
“She means well, you know.”
Kat didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. But she didn’t say anything, not sure she shared Julie’s feelings.
“Her dad died a few years ago, too,” Julie went on. “Then her mom withdrew for a while. Brie thought she might kill herself.”
Kat glanced at Julie, alarms ringing in her head. “Is she still thinking of harming herself?”
“No.”
“Would she tell you if she was?”
“Yeah. She’s my best friend.”
Kat considered pushing the issue, then decided to let it go. Maybe she’d bring it up again later, after she’d established more of a rapport with Julie.
But their conversation did spark another thought. Was it possible Carolyn Conway had been so grief-stricken over the death of her husband that she’d committed suicide? Perhaps that was the real reason why Julie’s aunt refused to talk about her. How did you tell a child that her love hadn’t been enough to keep her mother tethered to this world?
Except, Willow had also been under the impression that Carolyn Conway was murdered. Not a surprise, Kat figured, if she had gotten her facts from Julie.
Kat gripped the steering wheel harder. She needed to find out the details of Carolyn Conway’s death before she drove herself crazy with these speculations. Fortunately, she knew just who to ask.
CHAPTER FOUR
“She was stabbed, huh?” Kat said, looking at Andrew Milhone, her boyfriend and a detective with the Cherry Hills Police Department, as he sat on her living room couch Friday evening.
Andrew nodded, his sandy blond hair flopping over his forehead. “That’s what the police report says.”
So much for her suicide theory.
From his position on the floor, Tom set his front paws on Andrew’s knees and meowed. Clearly he didn’t appreciate being ignored by one of his favorite humans.
Andrew pulled Tom into his lap and started massaging the cat’s ears. “You’re really driving all the way to Seattle to ask Ms. Dearborn about Carolyn Conway?” he asked Kat.
“I don’t see I have a choice. I already told Julie I was going.” The teenager had been so ecstatic over the prospect of seeing her old dog that the guilt would eat Kat up if she canceled now. “You want to help me pick out an outfit?”
“You mean watch you model clothes?” Andrew grinned as he patted Tom’s head. “I can’t wait.”
Kat laughed and inched toward the hallway.
Spying his human on the move, Tom jumped off the couch and hurried after Kat. The feline squeezed past her in the hallway, then slowed to a dead stop inches from where Kat’s foot was about to land.
“Oh, Tom,” Kat said, reaching down to scoop up the feline. “One of these days I’m going to step on you.”
Tom didn’t seem bothered by the possibility. He pressed the top of his head against Kat’s chin and began purring.
When she reached her bedroom, Kat set Tom on the mattress and flung the closet door open. She had upgraded her wardrobe when she’d started her programming job four months ago, but she feared the pantsuits she preferred wouldn’t set the right tone for her meeting with Ms. Dearborn. Back when Kat was in her care, Ms. Dearborn had often lamented the demise of women’s fashion, which she defined as the phasing out of dresses and skirts in favor of jeans and slacks. Kat had worn what she wanted anyway, content to dismiss Ms. Dearborn as a sexist old lady.
But that was then, back when Kat didn’t have a favor to ask of the woman. Now that she hoped to coax some information out of her, it wouldn’t hurt to dress like the lady Ms. Dearborn had always tried to get her to be.
She shoved the pantsuits aside, digging to the back of the closet to reach the dressier outfits she rarely wore. The commotion summoned Matty, who came trotting into the room a second later. Her green eyes widened when she saw the open closet door, and she rocketed toward the entrance like a little yellow-and-brown missile.
Kat returned to the living room, dumping the clothes onto the empty sofa before grabbing the topmost item. “So, what do you think of this?” she said, holding the hanger up to her chin so the dress draped over her torso.
Andrew grimaced. “That one? Really?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s pink, for one thing.”
“So?”
“So, that’s not your style at all.”
Kat jutted one hip out in an exaggerated fashion model pose. “You’re saying I can’t pull off a pink dress?”
“I’m saying that dress makes it look like you’re going to tea with the queen. You might as well don elbow-length white gloves and a pillbox hat if you’re going to wear that.”
Kat’s lips twitched. “Well, you remember Fran Dearborn. She always acted a bit queenly.”
“She was rather distant,” Andrew agreed. “But at least she wasn’t abusive.”
“No, we could have done worse.”
A rush of love surged through Kat as she and Andrew smiled at each other. When she’d left town after high school fifteen years ago, she never would have guessed that one day she’d end up dating her former foster care friend. It was a comfort to be in a relationship with someone who could relate firsthand to her rocky childhood.
“Where’d you get that dress anyway?” Andrew asked.
“No clue. I can’t remember ever wearing it.”
The cats came padding back into the living room. Tom resettled next to Andrew, and Matty walked over to Kat. She sniffed at the hem of the dress before wrinkling her nose.
Kat laughed. “I don’t think Matty approves either.”
Andrew smiled, two perfect dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I’d say Matty’s got pretty good tastes.”
“It’s unanimous then. This dress is a no-go.” Kat tossed it on the empty couch cushion next to Andrew.
Tom jumped, the garment apparently landing too close for comfort. With a determined look on his face, he extended one paw and batted at the hanger.
Not one to be left out, Matty leapt up beside him, causing Tom to startle once again. He swatted at her. She didn’t retaliate. Instead, she stepped a safe distance away and pawed
at the dress. Deciding it would do, she curled up in the middle of the fabric.
Andrew reached over and tousled Matty’s fur. “Looks like Matty found a good use for it.”
“I’m glad somebody has.” Kat lifted up the next item, a forest-green skirt that stopped mid-calf. “What about this?”
Andrew mock gagged before asking, “What’s wrong with wearing what you have on now?”
“I can’t go over there in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Why not?”
“You remember how old-fashioned Ms. Dearborn was, don’t you? She thinks women should only be seen in dresses and skirts.”
“I also remember how you used to defy her all the time by wearing those raggedy jeans you were so fond of.”
“That was before I was trying to get her to open up.” Kat inspected the skirt for a moment before dropping it onto the unoccupied couch. “But you’re right. That’s not going to do it.”
“What do you hope Ms. Dearborn’s going to tell you that you can’t get from the police report anyway?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but since Julie was in her care immediately after it happened, I’m hoping she might have heard something.” Kat picked up another hanger. “Read me what your police friend sent you again.”
Andrew plucked his phone off the couch cushion beside him and tapped the screen. “Carolyn Conway was discovered murdered in her kitchen on the afternoon of Sunday, December 4, 2011. Her neighbor, who had been out of town since Friday, heard her dog howling when he returned home. Conway failed to answer the doorbell, so he peeked through the kitchen window, which was when he saw her lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her black Lab standing watch over her body.”
Kat shivered, chilled by the scene he’d described. Sometimes she wondered how the police did it. How did you build a career and life around such tragedy?
“There was no sign of forced entry into the house,” Andrew continued. “Time of death was set as the previous evening. Some of the other neighbors reportedly heard the dog barking on Saturday, but they didn’t think anything of it. Nor did they notice anything else unusual. Evidence in the kitchen suggests Conway had been decorating cookies at the time of her death. Her daughter, twelve-year-old Julie Conway, had spent the night at a friend’s house.”