Cat Got Your Secrets: A Kitty Couture Mystery

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Cat Got Your Secrets: A Kitty Couture Mystery Page 15

by Julie Chase


  The doctor’s mouth opened and shut. “I assumed you knew. Wallace was being blackmailed.”

  “Blackmailed?” I parroted.

  “Yes. I am too,” he whispered, “but Wallace got sick and figured he had nothing to lose, so he stopped paying and went after the guy hard. Even hired a private investigator. I was on board with bringing this guy down”—his voice cracked—“until . . .”

  “Until Mr. Becker turned up dead,” I said. “Who’s the blackmailer?”

  “Sage.” The word came so quietly off his tongue, I nearly missed it.

  “Who is Sage?” Jack demanded. His gaze jumped briefly to me.

  I nodded infinitesimally. Sage was also the name on the gift tag Jack had found stuck behind a baseboard in Tabitha’s old closet.

  Dr. Hawkins rode the stool in our direction, using his feet as pedals. “That’s what Wallace and I were trying to find out.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “How does the blackmail occur?”

  “We get phone calls. Letters. Sometimes packaged threats appear. Other times, a pretty lady makes the delivery.”

  “Describe the lady,” Jack demanded.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Dr. Hawkins said. “She wears big hats and glasses, dressed to the nines, like she’s off to the Kentucky Derby or a Royal Tea.”

  Jack flipped through screens on his phone before stopping on a picture of Tabitha. “Is this the lady?” He turned the photo toward Dr. Hawkins.

  “Maybe.” He scrutinized the picture. “I haven’t seen her recently, but that could be her.” He lifted his pained expression to Jack. “I try not to make a lot of direct eye contact. In the movies, these kinds of people will kill you if you can identify them.”

  I swept a pile of hair off my shoulders and considered the best way to approach my next question. “I’ve heard that Mr. Becker was seeing someone named Kinley. Do you have any idea who that is? We think she’s in her twenties and blonde. I believe she works at his company.”

  A look of devastation flashed in his eyes. “Kinley’s not a mistress. She’s Wallace’s daughter.”

  I sat back in stunned silence.

  Jack tapped something onto his phone screen. “Go on.”

  The doctor pulled wire-rimmed glasses off his long nose and rubbed his eyes. “Wallace had a tryst early in his marriage. He was young and willful. He’d fought with his wife and left on a long weekend, hoping to make her miserable in his absence. He met Kinley’s mother while he was away. He regretted his actions immediately, of course, and came right home, but he never confessed to the indiscretion because their prenuptial agreement was airtight.”

  “And he wasn’t going to let a former rodeo star take possession of his fortune,” I said.

  Dr. Hawkins replaced his glasses. “They made up and went on happily for years before the woman appeared at his office with a little girl and requested proof of paternity. Wallace agreed, and he and Kinley have maintained a relationship since that day. When she finished college and moved to the city, he offered her a position where they’d have reason to spend more time together. She’s not always been easy, but Wallace blamed himself when she was disagreeable.”

  He’d treated her like a dirty secret all her life. That sounded like motive to me. “Can you elaborate on ‘disagreeable’?”

  A slight knock on the door set Dr. Hawkins on his feet. “Come in.”

  The matronly little nurse poked her head inside. “Your next appointment is getting antsy.”

  He forced a smile. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

  When the door closed, Jack handed the doctor his card. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Meanwhile, do yourself a favor and don’t mention our visit to anyone until we figure out who Sage is and how he’s keeping tabs on you.”

  Dr. Hawkins tucked the card into the pocket of his white lab coat.

  “One more thing.” I lifted my pointer finger. “What were you being blackmailed for?”

  He looked nervously at Jack.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t care about the reason. But if there’s a pattern to the sorts of things Sage looks for in a money pot, we need to know. It could help us figure out who he is.”

  The doctor let his eyes fall shut briefly. “I enjoy the local burlesque culture and have on occasion spent private time with a particular dancer. I’m accused of paying for her companionship, which is a crime, and this is not an admission of guilt.” He reopened his eyes and excused himself before Jack could respond.

  I followed Jack out of the office and into the elevator.

  The minute the shiny metal doors closed, I turned to face him. “So even though Mr. Becker wasn’t cheating with Kinley, as his wife suspected, she was still evidence of a twenty-six-year-old infidelity. Do you think Kinley got tired of being kept separate from Mr. Becker’s public life and lashed out? What about her mom? Surely she has motive to blackmail him or want him dead. Whatever stipend he gave her to raise Kinley is probably gone now that she’s a grown woman.”

  Jack stared silently at our reflections in the doors. “I don’t like the idea of the killer being a blackmailer. You asked why the photographs of you weren’t taken in the present. It’s because blackmailers dig things up that we don’t want others to know.”

  My mouth dried. Jack thought the same person blackmailing old men in the district had sent me those photos and killed Mr. Becker?

  The doors slid open and I stumbled out.

  Jack walked me to my car with a broad grin. “I’m going home to go back through everything I have on Tabitha and give Grandpa’s things another look. I need a clue to her whereabouts. Hawkins recognized her. If she’s a part of this, she could be the key to finding Sage.”

  “Why do you look so happy?”

  He tossed his keys into the air and caught them in an open palm. “My personal case has crossed paths with a work case, so I can finally take my time digging through what I know about Grandpa’s death and the woman I blame.”

  I opened my car door to let out the heat. I didn’t like the idea that another killer was sending me messages. This sort of thing never ended well for me. But there was one silver lining. “Is this enough to take my dad off your suspect list?”

  “As soon as I’m sure he isn’t a blackmail ringleader masquerading as the local vet.”

  I dropped my arms lifelessly at my sides. “You’re joking.”

  Jack broke into a true smile. “Yeah, I’m joking.” He beeped his truck doors unlocked and headed in that direction.

  “Hey,” I called. “What about our coffee?”

  He waved and winked. “Rain check?”

  “Fine.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. “You owe me a coffee.”

  His smile widened. “Noted.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Furry Godmother’s protip: Everyone deserves the royal treatment, even the jesters.

  I met Chase at the door that evening in yoga pants and an oversized Louisiana State T-shirt. My mind was overflowing, and my hair was wound into a knot. Messy tendrils had drifted over my ears and neck as I’d baked and sewn, sorting through the details I’d received that morning.

  He looked me over with a quizzical smile. “You look a little frazzled.”

  “I am.”

  A hopeful expression lifted his brow. “Why?”

  “I need to brainstorm. I have new information on Wallace Becker, and I need to know what I should do next.”

  He slid his jacket off and folded it over the back of my chair. “Okay. What do you have?”

  “I went to see his friend Dr. Hawkins today, and I learned that he and Wallace Becker were being blackmailed.” I grabbed a stack of photos off my end table and flipped them into his lap. “Someone left these on my car when I visited my folks’ house last night. These are the copies I made before Jack took the originals. The ones from my car were sliced across my throat.”

  Chase turned them over, one by one. He swore quietly. “What
are you wearing?”

  “Concentrate.”

  “I am.” He raised playful green eyes to mine. “Please tell me you still have it somewhere.”

  I leveled him with my most serious face.

  Chase stopped on the photo of the message. “‘Stop looking into Wallace Becker’s death, or your past won’t be the only thing that catches up with you.’” His expression fell flat.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is why Jack was here last night?”

  “Dad called him when we saw the note.”

  He drifted his gaze over me. “Another lunatic is after you. Is that what you were so excited to tell me?”

  “No. I mean, that’s only possibly true, but I wanted to tell you about the blackmail.”

  “How can you say it’s only possibly true?” He handed me the photo of the threat and grimaced. “It’s blatantly true. Where is your sense of self-preservation?”

  “You’re testy.”

  “I’m worried.” He dragged the word out for several syllables. “How can you look so happy about something so awful?”

  “For starters, this means my dad didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Becker’s death. Dr. Hawkins said Mr. Becker was being blackmailed, and when he learned he was dying, he decided to track down the blackmailer instead of spending the rest of his days worried about him.”

  Chase didn’t look impressed. “That doesn’t mean your dad didn’t kill him. This is circumstantial at best.” He shifted in his seat. “Look. I can accept your statement about the blackmailer as fact, but it doesn’t mean your dad isn’t the murderer, or that no one else wanted Becker dead, or that he didn’t succumb to an accidental death as a result of an argument with someone completely unrelated to the blackmail.”

  I glared. “My dad did not kill Mr. Becker.”

  “I know. I’m just saying.”

  I crossed my arms and sat in my comfy chair with both feet tucked under me. “I also learned that Mr. Becker wasn’t having an affair. Kinley is Becker’s daughter. He was hiding the existence of a love child.”

  “Are you moving?” Chase moseyed to the stack of boxes against my living room wall.

  I wanted to complain about the abrupt change of subject, but he’d reminded me of my latest argument with my mother. “That’s round three of items expelled from my old room. Mom’s found a discreet way to donate, so she’s purging the house, and apparently I had too many books and puzzles. I’ve asked her not to give them away, so she dropped them off here.”

  He rifled through the boxes, reading titles from the aged spines and smiling at old board games. “I can’t believe how many of these we had at our house too. Carter and I loved strategy games. He was older and wiser, but I wasn’t afraid to bend the rules, so it was fun.” He opened a massive tote filled with puzzles. “Holy.”

  “I’ve never met a puzzle I couldn’t solve.”

  He shut the lid and carried a tattered paperback to the couch. “Is this where it all began? One too many Sherlock Holmes novels and family fun nights? Now you’re obsessed with finding answers.”

  “Maybe.” I took the book from him and ran my fingers over the curled edges, enjoying the feel of it in my hands. “I like knowing there are answers to be found. We only have to look.”

  “What’s in the box with boy band posters taped to the sides?”

  I smiled. “Clothes and CDs from high school.”

  He scoffed, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “What’s a CD, Grandma? Is that like a VHS movie?”

  “Kind of.” I giggled. “Do you know they play those songs on the oldies station now? When did we grow up? How are we thirty?”

  His smile brightened. “I’m not. I’m twenty-eight.”

  I hit him with a little pillow.

  My doorbell rang.

  Chase was on his feet in an instant. He checked the window, then disarmed my alarm and pulled Scarlet inside with a hearty hug.

  A young woman in jeans and white wool pea coat stepped inside behind her. A cascade of blonde curls flowed over her back. “Hi, Chase.”

  Scarlet motioned to me. “Kinley, this is Lacy Crocker, the woman I’ve been telling you about.”

  “Kinley?” Kinley, Becker’s daughter? Scarlet knew her? Chase knew her? “Welcome. Can I get you something?”

  The stranger helped herself to the nearest chair. “Coffee.”

  Chase spun on his heels and vanished into the kitchen.

  She watched him leave. A little smile played on her lips. “I met Chase at his family’s law firm this afternoon. They’re helping me legally change my name to Becker.”

  I looked to Scarlet. If this woman was who she said she was, why wasn’t she more upset about her father’s sudden death? How had she strolled into my home and presented herself like a new neighbor instead of a grieving daughter?

  Scarlet sat in Chase’s empty spot on the couch. “I followed the gossip until I found someone who knew where the alleged mistress lived. When I told Kinley who I was and what you and I were up to, she volunteered to help clear the air.”

  And announce herself publicly as a potential heir to the Becker empire.

  Kinley crossed her legs and fiddled with the cuffs of her coat, apparently bored, or perhaps hoping to look bored. “Daddy hired the Hawthorne law firm to find a loophole in his prenup. He wanted an angle that would provide for me in the event of his death.”

  “And he was dying,” I said, snapping the puzzle pieces together as they landed at my feet. He’d gone to the Hawthornes to make provisions, not to handle his business affairs as Chase had told me.

  “I wasn’t a match for his kidney,” Kinley said. “Neither was his wife or son. The transplant wait list is long and slow. Daddy was getting his estate in order.”

  I wasn’t sure which part of the surreal encounter was stranger. The fact that the exiled offspring of a man my dad had recently been accused of murdering was sitting in my living room or the fact that she continued to speak about her father so flatly, as if he were no more important to her than the mailman. Granted, my experience having a father was very different from Kinley’s, but I doubted I’d ever be able to talk about his death so easily, even if he’d been gone many years. Kinley’s father had only been gone a few days. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  She averted her gaze. “Right.”

  Chase retuned with a carafe of coffee and a stack of mugs. “One minute.” He disappeared again, only to return with a tray. “I’ve got two kinds of creamer and sugar cookies.”

  “Are you two a thing?” Kinley asked, a glint of disappointment in her eye.

  Chase broke a cookie in half and smiled. “She’s way out of my league.”

  Kinley gave me a disbelieving look. Whether she was unsure if he was lying or how I could be out of Chase’s league was uncertain. I didn’t ask.

  Scarlet poured a cup of coffee and held it under her nose. “I miss coffee.” She inhaled deeply and sighed before setting the cup down and picking up a cookie.

  “Poppet still not sleeping at night?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  I rubbed her back. “Why don’t I hang out with the kids soon, so you can take a nap? A long one.”

  She tipped her head onto my shoulder and nodded it in agreement. “I love you.”

  “Back at ya.”

  Kinley poured a cup of coffee using large, deliberate gestures that drove the room’s attention back to her. “Daddy sent Mom money every month until I turned eighteen, then he stopped sending the checks to her and started paying for college instead. I figured that’s the same thing. I majored in business.”

  I bit into a cookie, trying to figure her out. We were polar opposites as far as I could tell. I’d worked diligently to cut ties with my family’s money, and she’d welcomed her father’s cash with open arms. Was I wrong for my response? Was she wrong for hers? “Mr. Becker offered you a job after graduation?”

  She dragged a fingertip around the top of her mug. “I hated it at first
. When he’d made the offer, I’d assumed I’d have a corner office with a window and everyone would finally know who I was. Instead I was treated like the other hourly workers and told to pretend I wasn’t his child. He said it would prevent jealousy and that the truth would come out in time.”

  “Ouch.” I pushed the rest of my cookie onto my tongue before I interrupted her again.

  “I wasn’t exactly a model employee in the early weeks, but I warmed up, especially when I learned about his health. I’d only recently become part of his everyday life and suddenly I was losing him. His sickness changed things. I hugged him on the night he told me about his kidney failure. The blackmailer must’ve taken the photos then. It was the first time I’d really let down my guard.”

  “You knew about the blackmail?” I asked.

  “Daddy told me everything. Sometimes we talked for hours. I did my best to accept whatever he said without an opinion. I tried to fit into his life however I could.”

  “Have you spoken to his wife?” I asked.

  Kinley barked a laugh. “Do you think I’m an idiot? In what scenario would that meeting go well?”

  “You have a major loss in common. Maybe knowing one another would help,” I suggested. “You still have a half-brother out there somewhere.”

  Kinley bounded to her feet, nearly spilling her coffee. “He is not my brother. She is not my mother. I don’t want to meet them any more than I wanted to meet you, but since Scarlet assured me you’d find out who did this to my dad, I came tonight.”

  I stood slowly.

  Scarlet followed suit.

  Kinley’s disposition took a change for the worse. Her cocky, superficial demeanor faded into something that looked more like a deer in headlights. “If you’re not a complete moron, you know it was his greedy, awful wife who killed him. She’s mad because she got old and thought he had a mistress. Now she’s blaming the blonde bimbo who must be sleeping with him because there’s obviously no other reason any woman would want to know my dad.” Her cheeks flared red and tears welled in her eyes. She shook a fistful of her hair in each hand.

  Scarlet brushed cookie crumbs off her fingers. “Maybe we should go.”

 

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