by Chloe Mayson
Tom Cat hissed again.
“It’s just my luck to get a chicken little for a familiar,” Cortney said as she turned onto Sugar Cane Street. She had noticed the police station on her way to the house yesterday.
“My birthday! Oh God, I completely forgot that today is my twenty-first birthday. I can’t even call Roger,” Cortney said. It’s just as well. He’s a loser. When I have my inheritance, I’ll attract handsome men like flowers attract bees, Cortney thought as she spotted the police station and slowed down.
Cortney found a spot on the street in front of the station to park. She figured it was too early for them to be busy. Wow, that's a silly thought. The police aren’t selling something. It’s not like they have regular hours. Hmm, maybe people don’t report crimes right after breakfast. They let the meal settle first, Cortney thought and chuckled to herself.
Chapter Seven
Cortney glanced at the police station. The brick building that housed it stood between Charley Brown’s Men’s Clothing Store and the Crispy Doughnut Shop.
“Put your big boy pants on, Tom Cat, and let’s go and speak to the chief of police,” Cortney said as she opened her door. She held the door open for Tom Cat. “If the police are like Pop at the diner, they will think you are dead and buried. I need you to wrong-foot the chief. Then maybe he might tell me something about Morticia’s murder case that he wouldn’t tell the general public,” Cortney confessed to Tom Cat as she held the door open for him.
The small lobby of the police station was empty when Cortney and Tom Cat entered. Several metal folding chairs sat against the rear wall and faced the reception window. A fat sergeant set reading a newspaper behind the window. Even though the door buzzed when Cortney entered, the sergeant didn’t look up from the paper.
Cortney waited for a moment and then tapped on the window. The sergeant lowered the paper and shot Cortney an annoyed look.
“Reading the comics?” Cortney asked.
“What can I do for you Miss?” the sergeant said as a practiced smile appeared for a moment.
“I would like to speak to the chief of police about the murder of my Aunt Morticia,” Cortney said.
A look of interest quickly replaced the bored look he had presented.
“And who are you?” the sergeant asked as he laid down the newspaper.
“I’m Cortney Barnaby,” Cortney replied. “Ah, I see you were reading the comics,” Cortney said with an air of triumph.
The sergeant frowned for a moment before he flashed the bogus smile again.
“Do you have an appointment? The chief of police is a busy man,” the sergeant said.
“No, but as the next of kin, I need an update on the police efforts to find out who poisoned Aunt Morticia,” Cortney said and smiled as she glanced around the empty lobby.
The fat man took a deep breath. “Let me ring him and see if he has the time to meet with you. Have a seat. I’ll call you after I speak to the chief.”
“Sure, Sarge,” Cortney said as she turned her back on the reception window. “One ringy dingy, two ringy dingy,” she called over her shoulder as she walked to one of the metal chairs.
“Hey, is that a cat? You have to take him outside. No animals are allowed in the station!” the sergeant said raising his voice as he spoke.
“Tom Cat was poisoned the same time as my aunt. He’s a witness,” Cortney said.
The sergeant stood up to get a better look at Tom Cat. “That can’t be the same cat. He died when the old lady… I mean victim died,” the sergeant said.
“True, but he came back to life. Don’t you know that cats have nine lives?” Cortney glanced down at Tom Cat. “You have eight more lives left, right Tom Cat?”
“Meow, meow.”
“What? You have only seven more lives?” Cortney said not sure why her familiar answered no.
“Meow.”
“Sorry, he has only seven more lives to go,” Cortney said as she wondered how Tom Cat had lost his other life.
“Loony,” the sergeant said under his breath. He raised his hands. “Heck, let the chief deal with you and the cat,” he added as he dialed.
“Joe Bob… Ah, there’s a woman in the lobby saying she’s Morticia Barnaby’s niece. She’s requesting an update on Morticia’s murder investigation,” the sergeant said into the receiver.
As Cortney watched, the sergeant cupped his hand over the receiver and spoke softly into the phone. The only words Cortney manage to hear were loony and cat.
The sergeant put down the receiver. “Ah, the chief will see you.”
“And Tom Cat too?” Cortney asked.
The sergeant shrugged. “Yeah, why not. I’ll buzz you through. The chief’s office is on the second floor. The stairs are on the right,” the sergeant called out as Cortney, and Tom Cat walked through the security door.
“The sergeant thinks you are loony, Tom Cat,” Cortney said. “So, try to act normal,” Cortney said and giggled.
“Meow, meow, meow!”
“Same to you too, Road Kill,” Cortney said as they reached the second floor. The third door down a long hallway had Chief of Police written in black letters across the face of the door.
Cortney knocked lightly on the door and waited.
“Come in!”
Cortney opened the door to find a muscular, middle-aged, red-haired man sitting behind a small oak desk. The man stood up as Cortney entered.
“My name is Joe Bob Thorton. I’m the chief of police,” the man in a blue police uniform declared.
“I’m Cortney Barnaby, and this is Tom Cat,” Cortney said.
“What can I do for you Miss Cortney?” the man said as he sat down and motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”
“Chief Thorton, as I told your sergeant, I would like a progress report on the investigation of Aunt Morticia’s death.”
Instead of answering her, Chief Thorton glanced down at Tom Cat. “That can’t be the old lady’s… I mean Miss Morticia’s cat. It died from the same poison as she succumbed to at the council board luncheon,” Chief Thorton said.
“Thought he was a goner, but the cat came back,” Cortney said. “Cats have nine lives. Tom Cat still has eight… I mean seven more lives to go, isn’t that right Tom Cat?” Cortney said.
Tom Cat stopped licking his left paw. He glanced at Cortney as he said. “Meow.”
“Well, that might be, Miss Cortney, but I suspect this isn’t the same Tom Cat that died with your aunt. You know all black cats look alike,” Chief Thorton said. “But I’ll take a DNA sample and see if it matches with Tom Cat’s DNA. The coroner performed an autopsy on the cat, so there’s a sample of his DNA on file.” Chief Thorton said as he opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a DNA testing kit. He stood up and started around the table then stopped. “Where’s the cat?” he asked.
Cortney glanced at the chair next to her, and to her surprise, Tom Cat had vanished. “Sorry, I guess he wasn’t comfortable giving a DNA sample,” Cortney said. “He values his privacy.”
The chief of police looked at Cortney with raised eyebrows. “You are talking about a cat, not a person. He doesn’t know a DNA sample from catnip,” Chief Thorton declared. “Where did he go? Where is he? The door is closed. He couldn’t have gotten out of the room.”
“He’s always popping in and out of places. I found him on the road as I drove to Bayou George. I thought he was roadkill when I examined him. But I got a terrible electrical shock when I grabbed his tail to pull him off the road. Then low and behold, he opened his eyes. He returned from the dead. I guess that proves that cats do have nine lives. I took him to Barnaby House, and the butler said he was my aunt’s cat, Tom Cat. I thought I should bring him along with me since everyone said that Tom Cat died with Aunt Morticia,” Cortney said.
“Are you sure you weren’t smoking weed when you found the cat? I don’t allow drugs in Bayou George,” Chief Thorton warned.
“I never touch the stuf
f,” Cortney said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” Chief Thorton said in a skeptical tone.
“Cross my heart,” Cortney said.
“Speaking of the butler, he is a strange one. He had a towel wrapped around his face when I interviewed him the day your aunt died. He said he had a rash and was soaking his face with ointment. However, I’ve heard that he is butt ugly and doesn’t want to show his face,” Chief Thorton said as he bent over and looked under the desk. “But I don’t see how the cat got out of the room with the door closed,” he added.
“He’ll probably be home when I get back,” Cortney said. “Now could you give me a progress report on my aunt’s murder case?” Cortney asked.
Tom Cat popped out of the police station rather than give a sample of his DNA. He doesn’t want to reveal that he’s a familiar. Now, Chief Thorton is thinking about Tom Cat’s disappearance and confused. Hmm, it couldn’t have worked out better, Cortney thought.
“What poison did the killer use?” Cortney asked.
“Cyanide,” Chief Thorton said as he glanced behind his chair.
“Which one of the council members do you think killed Aunt Morticia?” Cortney asked.
“I’m not sure one of the council members killed Miss Morticia,” Chief Thorton said. “You did bring the cat into the office, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine seeing him, did I?”
“Yes. I apologize for Tom Cat’s actions. He hasn’t been the same since he died. He reminds me of one of those pets from that novel about the pet cemetery where the animals return from the dead,” Cortney said. “It’s so creepy.”
“You can say that again. It seems that a lot of creepy things happen up at Barnaby House. My police officers refused to go to the house on the day of the murder. I had to go myself and drag the coroner along with me,” Chief Thorton confessed.
“That’s a shame. I realize that the house looks like a spooky Halloween house, but it’s perfectly normal and so are the people. Frank, the butler, had an accident and underwent several rounds of surgery. He hides his face to spare people from seeing how hideously scarred the operations left him,” Cortney said in a sad voice.
“That’s too bad. I had heard that the man had scars on his face. I didn’t know how bad he looked,” Chief Thorton said.
“Well, bad enough for me to scream and faint when I first saw his face,” Cortney said.
“Really? That bad?” Chief Thorton asked.
“Yes, sadly enough. Now, tell me, Chief Thorton, is there one of the council members that you suspect more than the others?” Cortney asked.
“I don’t suspect any of them. From what I heard, the town of Bayou George would inherit the entire Barnaby fortune upon Miss Morticia’s death if no heirs were found. But here you are. So, what would any of the council members have to gain by murdering your aunt? I’m thinking that someone sneaked into the house and poisoned the caper sauce when that old woman wasn’t looking,” Chief Thorton said.
“I disagree. I think it was one of the council members,” Cortney stated.
Chief Thorton shook his head. “Leave the police work to professionals. We will find the killer.”
“How many detectives do you have working on the case?” Cortney asked.
“Sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing police case,” Chief Thorton said. “So instead of the town of Bayou George receiving the inheritance, you will get it? That’s a shame. The town could use the money.”
“Only if I live here for a year and work in the Sweet Shop Diner,” Cortney confessed. “If I don’t live up to the conditions, or die, then my aunt’s estate reverts to Bayou George,” Cortney paused. “I think whoever poisoned my aunt took a shot at me last night when I was fly… driving around town,” Cortney said.
“Really, why didn’t you report it?” Chief Thorton asked.
“I… My cell phone doesn’t get a signal in this area. And I had no proof that someone shot at me, except I saw a muzzle flash and heard rifle fire,” Cortney said.
“They missed your car? That’s strange. Sounds like the shooter can’t hit the side of a barn, or a car in this case,” Chief Thorton said. “I certainly don’t want him as a hunting partner.”
“Well, the point is that I think the person that killed my aunt will make more attempts on my life. And, that the killer is one of the council members, and is desperate to get control of my aunt’s estate,” Cortney said.
“I’ve vetted all the council members. They are all solid citizens of Bayou George. I’m of the opinion that someone other than one of the council members entered the house and poisoned the caper sauce,” Chief Thorton said.
“Yeah, you said that before. But I’ve considered that possibility and rejected it,” Cortney said.
“Now, have you? So, you have had lots of experience in investigating crimes, have you?” Chief Thorton said in a condescending tone.
“Nope, but even the best detectives had to start somewhere,” Cortney said. “Could I get a list of the council members that were at Barnaby House the morning my aunt died?” Cortney asked.
“Your aunt should have a list,” Chief Thorton said. “Ah, ask the butler?”
“Yes, you are right. I’m sure Frank knows the names of the council members. What I need from you are their home addresses.”
“Sorry, I can’t reveal that information,” Chief Thorton said. “And let me remind you, Miss Cortney, that this is an ongoing police investigation. I will not tolerate you interfering with the police,” he added.
“Chief Thorton, it comes to my mind that the entire town of Bayou George stands to benefit from my leaving town, or getting killed should I try to stay and collect my inheritance. I suppose that your salary might even get a substantial bump if the town inherits Aunt Morticia’s estate. You and the police aren’t dragging your feet investigating my aunt’s death in hopes that the killer eliminates me, are you?” Cortney said.
“How dare you come into my office and make such a statement!” Chief Thorton shouted as he sprung to his feet. “I suggest you leave my office immediately,” he added.
“Sure, coming to see you was a total waste of my time, anyway,” Cortney said as she stood and walked to the door. “Don’t count on a big salary increase anytime soon. I’m not going anywhere. And whoever is attempting to kill me will find that I’m… let’s just say, they are in for a surprise,” Cortney said as she smiled at Chief Thorton before walking out of his office.
“Where’s the cat?” the sergeant asked as Cortney walked by his desk.
“I left him with Chief Thorton. He said he needed a cat because the office is overrun with blue rats. Ah, he asked me to tell you to bring up a bowl of warm milk. Gee, I’m not sure if it’s for him or Tom Cat,” Cortney said shaking her head as she walked into the lobby.
“I’m not a nursemaid for a darn cat.” Cortney heard the sergeant exclaim as she walked out of the building.
Tom Cat had his face pressed against the passenger window when Cortney reached the car.
“You shouldn’t be popping away in front of strangers. Normal cats can’t teleport themselves,” Cortney said.
“Meow, meow, meow,” Tom Cat answered.
“Yeah, I know you didn’t want to give them a sample of your DNA. You don’t want them to know you are a demon,” Cortney said.
“Meow,” Tom Cat said as he stared at Cortney.
“Yes, I know that a familiar is a demon that takes over the body of a cat. I said I didn’t believe in witches and ghosts. I didn’t say I was ignorant about them. Novels cover the subject of witches and ghosts extensively. I just always thought there was no truth behind the stories,” Cortney said as she pulled onto Sugar Cane Street. “Okay, now to serve my time at the diner.”
Chapter Eight
“You are late!” Pop called through the service window as he flipped a hamburger patty.
“The boss is never late, Pop,” Cortney corrected the cook.
“And I thought I told you last
time that we don’t allow pets in the diner,” Pop stated spotting Tom Cat as he jumped into a seat at a booth near the service window.
“New rules, Pop,” Cortney said as she walked behind the counter and grabbed an apron and an order book.
“Do you know the menu?” Pop asked.
“Pop, the menu is listed over the counter. I don’t think I need to memorize it. Look, this has been my day job since I graduated from high school. I know what I’m doing,” Cortney told the middle-aged cook. “You flip, and I serve,” she added as a new customer entered.
Cortney stared at the tall, thin man as he walked toward her. The man strode by her with serpentine movements. It was as though a lizard had just crossed in front of her. Once past her position, the man turned his head and looked back at Cortney as he headed to the last booth.
Cortney felt as though she looked in the eyes of a snake.
“Who’s that man?” Cortney asked as she leaned into the service window.
Pop glanced at the man as he took a seat in the booth.
“It’s Gator. He scares the heck out of me. The last waitress quit because of him. She said he gave her the evil eye,” Pop said.
“What’s his occupation? Bounty hunter?” Cortney asked as she suddenly felt as though she was in the presence of a predator.
“He hunts alligators. That’s why he’s called Gator. He tans their hides and makes belts and boots out of them. He knows the swamp around Bayou George like the back of his hand. He lives in the swamp in a house built on stilts and travels back and forth on his airboat,” Pop explained.
“I guess I better go see what he wants to order,” Cortney said as she pulled her order pad and a pencil from her pocket.
“Good morning, Gator,” Cortney said as she approached with her best trucker smile.
“Do I know you?” the man asked as he turned his reptilian eyes upon Cortney.
“I’m the new waitress and sort of owner of the Sweet Shop Diner,” Cortney said.
“I didn’t know that the old witch… the old woman sold the diner,” Gator said in an almost hissing voice.