Things were looking good on the case against Rolf, the officer said. Or bad, from Rolf’s viewpoint.
A news report said a police search of the old, unused buildings at the vineyard revealed that they weren’t so unused after all. They held a small but sophisticated marijuana-growing operation. Rolf had a couple of illegal immigrants working there, and they, in exchange for indemnity, had much to say about the pot-growing operations. An unexpected find for police was a rather large stash of Rohypnol also in the building.
Beyond this point, Cate had to use those informed deductions to answer various questions about the case in her report.
Why had Ed Kieferson gone to Jo-Jo’s house that fateful day? It could have been to win Jo-Jo back, but Cate’s own conclusion was that he’d gone to demand a reduction in his alimony payments, and shooting the dolls was a warning to Jo-Jo of what he could do to her if she didn’t cooperate. Would he have carried through on the threat? An unanswerable question.
Why had Rolf followed Ed that day? From what Kim had said about Ed’s fierce antagonism toward Rohypnol, it seemed likely that he’d found out Rolf was supplying Celeste and maybe selling the stuff elsewhere too. Rolf knew Ed was going to turn him in and he’d soon be back in jail. Rolf wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d followed Ed with the deliberate intent to kill him that day. Which he’d done.
But Celeste had followed too. It seemed unlikely the three vehicles had been in parade formation going out to Jo-Jo’s place, and somehow Celeste had arrived before Rolf, which was how she’d gotten the incriminating photos. Cate figured Celeste really did suspect Ed had something extracurricular going with some woman. She’d followed him to get proof of that infidelity and unexpectedly got a different kind of proof. So why hadn’t she turned the photos over to the police? Maybe she didn’t want to lose her Rohypnol supplier? Maybe she figured she could use the incriminating photos for leverage to get her supply free? Maybe she was just glad Ed was dead so she didn’t have to do it.
Ed’s Jaguar. How did it get back to town? Rolf must have moved it back to the restaurant parking lot. Why? Maybe so it would throw suspicion on Jo-Jo by making it look as if Ed had gone to the house with her in the van. Rolf was a tough, resourceful guy. He’d have found a way to get back out there and retrieve his motorcycle.
Who had called Celeste that day at the Mystic Mirage, and who had Cate bumped into that time she fled the store in embarrassment? Travis Beauchamp? Who had now done a plea bargain on the burglary charge and received a short sentence.
Cate would add a copy of the newspaper account of Rolf’s trial to the file later.
Case closed.
Now here they were at the big event on a cooperative day in November. The yard had been nicely landscaped, the hillside sloping down to the street terraced and planted with grass and shrubs. In the spring it would bloom with azaleas and lilacs, and Cate herself had added a section of iris bulbs Rebecca had donated from her yard. Cate hadn’t gardened since she was a girl back home, but she was looking forward to planting tomatoes and lettuce and onions out back next spring. Mitch had said, “Don’t forget carrots,” and she’d told him to bring his own carrot seed and give it a try.
The outside of the house, with rock trim and big windows, looked like any ordinary house, but everyone knew about the cat-friendly differences inside. A Kitty Kastle.
A sunny breeze fluttered the wide red ribbon with a bow that crossed the front door. Mr. Ledbetter stood beside it with scissors. Cate stood on the sidewalk, Octavia grumbling from the cat carrier at her feet.
Behind Cate stood Mitch, Uncle Joe with a cane, and Rebecca. Rebecca had asked if a few people from church could come. Lance and Robyn, back from their honeymoon, had asked if they could come. At the last minute, Cate had invited the Whodunit ladies, who’d known Octavia’s original owner, to be there. Mrs. Ledbetter had come with her husband. So, it was quite a crowd now gathered for the grand opening. A few curious neighbors had also assembled at the foot of the driveway to watch.
“Are we ready?” Mr. Ledbetter asked.
Cate nodded. Octavia yowled.
“Very well, then. I, Roger Ledbetter, designated by Amelia Robinson as executor of her estate, which duties include providing a proper home for her beloved companion, Octavia, do hereby present this house to Ms. Cate Kinkaid and Octavia, as their mutual residence.” Mr. Ledbetter cut the ribbon with a big flourish, unlocked the door, and with another flourish presented the keys to Cate. “I hope you’ll both be very happy here.”
Cate stepped inside. She stopped short for a moment, startled as always by the lifelike appearance of the redheaded doll sitting on a chair in the foyer. Jo-Jo had presented her with this doll a few days ago. Jo-Jo hadn’t named the doll, saying she’d leave that up to Cate, and Cate was still mulling possibilities.
Everyone crowded in, filling the living room. Cate made certain the door was closed, and then unlatched the door on the cat carrier.
Octavia, with her usual regal attitude, strolled out. She eyed the crowd, then ignored them, as if such an entourage were her due. She inspected the doll, climbed her cat pole, and sat her plump rump down on the walkway to survey her domain and subjects below.
“What does she think?” Mr. Ledbetter asked.
“If she had thumbs, I’m sure she’d be giving it a thumbs-up.”
“Good.” He made a little my-work-here-is-done dusting motion with his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, I want to go talk to someone …”
His wife, who’d been standing next to him, watched him go over to Mitch. Then she pulled a photo out of her purse. “This is Ellouise.” The photo showed a calico cat with a chewed-on ear, not lovely, but Mrs. Ledbetter beamed with pride. “I never thought Roger would want a cat, but when she showed up at our door, he let her come in. We’re both quite taken with her.”
Cate glanced up at Octavia and gave her a thumbs-up. Cat ambassadorship successful.
“But I’m rather concerned about Roger’s interest in that young man’s motorcycle.” Mrs. Ledbetter gave a worried glance at her husband and Mitch deep in discussion. “He wouldn’t want a motorcycle too … would he?”
“There’s some kind of magnetic attraction between men and bikes.” Cate patted Mrs. Ledbetter’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”
“If he does get one, I’m never getting on it,” Mrs. Ledbetter vowed.
Cate just smiled. Famous Last Words.
Mr. Ledbetter had provided snacks and drinks, both people and cat varieties. Various people came by to congratulate Cate on her new home, but finally they were all gone, and it was just her, Mitch, and Octavia.
Cate plopped down on her new leather sofa. Nice in a cat world, because it wouldn’t accumulate cat hair. Mitch had suggested the big, soft pillow for Octavia’s use at one end of it. Octavia now came down from her high perch and curled up on the pillow beside Cate. Mitch dropped down beside Cate too.
They made, Cate reflected, a rather nice little family.
“Great place,” Mitch said.
“I think so too.”
“Now that you’re a, um, solid citizen homeowner, and you have a milestone thirtieth birthday coming up soon, I’m thinking maybe you’ll want a solid-citizen-type job. Not one where you’re being chased by killers, bound up in duct tape, climbing out of windows, et cetera.”
“And this solid-citizen-type job would be … ?”
“There’s a great opening in the office at Computer Solutions Dudes. Good pay, full benefits, congenial boss.”
Cate considered the offer. For five seconds. “Thank you, no.”
“No?”
“No.”
Mitch gave an exaggerated sigh. “I didn’t think so.” He pulled a small package out of his pocket. “Wristwatch-type cell phone. Voice activated. So the next time you’re hanging out of a window, you can call me, okay?”
“But I’m not going to be—”
He touched her lips with a finger. “Or you can use it when you’r
e trapped in a dungeon, hijacked in a hot-air balloon, or spread-eagled on railroad tracks. Whatever.”
“Don’t be ridic—” Cate broke the statement in mid-word. Given her propensity for dangerous situations, who knew when she might need Mitch’s gift?
“Just remember, I’m always here. Just waiting for your call.” He grinned. “Or even if it isn’t an emergency, and you just want me, I’m available.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Octavia woke up, strolled across laps as if they were her personal red carpet, and plopped down, head and front paws on Mitch, rear end and tail on Cate.
Cate petted her end of cat. Yes indeed. A nice little family.
Lorena McCourtney is a New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of dozens of novels, including Invisible (which won the Daphne du Maurier Award from Romance Writers of America), In Plain Sight, On the Run, Stranded, and Dying to Read. She resides in Grants Pass, Oregon.
Books by Lorena McCourtney
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THE IVY MALONE MYSTERIES
Invisible
In Plain Sight
On the Run
Stranded
THE CATE KINKAID FILES
Dying to Read
Dolled Up to Die
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