The Cat, the Collector and the Killer

by Leann Sweeney

  “My grandparents were born in England. We always had tea in the late afternoon when I stayed with them. It’s a comforting tradition, a little bit of them to hang on to.”

  “Ah. I had no idea.” I took the lid off my latte cup to allow my drink to cool. “Okay, about Mr. Schultz. You knew him?”

  “He used to come in and buy coffee beans. Minnie was a bit shy, but she accompanied him on occasion. They never bought coffee drinks or pastries. They were pretty old-school. Then tragedy struck and I haven’t seen Minnie since.”

  “You mean since her husband’s accident?” I tested my latte with a tentative sip. It was perfect.

  “Yes. Horrible wreck on a back road. He ran into a ditch and flipped over. They didn’t find him for two days. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt, or he might have been all right. Anyway, that’s what Mike Baca, our dearly departed former police chief, told me.” She poured her tea and a sweet, unique smell wafted my way.

  “How awful.” I looked at the table, remembering the sudden death of my first husband, John, and how devastating it had been. It had taken me years to recover. I closed my eyes and put aside thoughts of John. “That tea smells wonderful, by the way,” I said. “What is it?”

  “Pomegranate green tea. Special blend I order online.”

  “I might have to try that—maybe flavor up my sweet tea. Back to Minnie Schultz. You haven’t seen her in five years?”

  Belle shook her head. “No, ma’am. She quit church and that was where I always saw her. I heard a few ladies on the bereavement committee reached out to her several times, but she never returned to the pew where she and Otto always used to sit. Sad thing, that.”

  “Tell me anything more you know about Mr. Schultz.” I took a longer drink and hoped the small amount of caffeine would energize me.

  “German immigrant—came here as a boy. Very polite. Such a nice man. He always dressed so formal with his vest and his pocket watch. He was a jeweler, and since his passing, we haven’t had a fine jewelry shop here in Mercy. These days all the jewelry sold in town seems to be made for teenagers and comes from China.”

  “I had no idea Mercy once had a store like what you’ve described, but then I rarely wear jewelry, except for this.” I held out my hand so we could both admire the diamond-studded wedding band now gracing my ring finger.

  Belle took my hand and held it up for a closer look. “Your Tom has such good taste.” She continued to admire the ring for several seconds after I’d set my hand back next to my coffee.

  “He does. Picked it out all by himself, but because of Mike’s death, he didn’t have it in time for our wedding.” I smiled, remembering the night he’d made a romantic dinner all by himself and poured me a glass of champagne with this ring in the bottom of the flute, sparkling more than the champagne ever could. Then my thoughts returned to Minnie Schultz. “Did you know she’s in the hospital?”

  “Oh, for sure. One of my customers called the police and the ambulance about Minnie. He saw her wandering down Main in the early morning, right when I was coming to work. He said she looked so confused. I do hope she’s okay.”

  I explained about how I’d been asked to retrieve the kitten.

  Belle’s forehead creased with concern. “So strange that she had a cat with her. My sweet Mocha kitty would have been out of that tote in a flash. It all seems so . . . troubling. A dead man in her house and poor Minnie wandering around all by herself in such a state? Bless the poor woman’s heart. But she has a wonderful helper in you, Jillian.”

  “I’m not sure about that, though I do want to help.”

  Belle went on. “I have to say, no cat I’ve ever been acquainted with would ever tolerate a walk down Main Street.” She shook her head sadly. “That poor woman—and that poor kitty cat. I will make it my business to get the church to try harder this time to engage her once she returns home. Her children certainly won’t be much help.” Belle raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh my. She might not want to return home, right? Not after what happened to Chester. What do you think he was doing there in the first place? Picking up stray cats?”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “I’m sure Tom will figure it out. But what’s this about her children?”

  “They’re all grown—a girl and twin boys. They came from two loving parents and yet once they left home, apparently they rarely visited. Or that’s what I hear.” She sipped at her tea. “Could have been Otto’s death that caused a strain, but from what I understand Minnie was the kindest woman in the world—just shy, is all.”

  “Do you know the children?”

  “Just in passing. The daughter, Greta, married and moved to Welcome Path, not too far from here. The young men are named Harris and Henry. Lookers, those two. Used to charm the girls when they were teenagers. Always had young ladies with them when they came in here. I’m pretty certain all three of Otto and Minnie’s children went to college because Otto told me once they had to pinch pennies with the children in school.”

  Belle drained her teacup, stood and picked up her dishes. “I wish I could chat longer, but I have a new applicant coming in. Don’t even know her name, so I’d better get to my office and read up on her before she arrives.”

  I stood. “I should get home, too—before there’s a kitty revolution. I’ve been away far longer than I expected, and tuna dinners are late.”

  We said our good-byes, and soon I arrived home to find four cats showing their disdain by offering a chorus of unhappy meows. I’d stayed away well past their dinnertime. Once I’d made sure Dashiell’s blood sugar hadn’t tanked and filled their dishes, I went to the basement to see about what was probably a very lonely kitten. He might enjoy a little feline company as well as visiting with me, but the question was, would my crew enjoy him?

  Otto purred up a storm when I picked him up. I played with him a bit so the other cats had time to finish their food. Otto had eaten well in my absence. His little belly felt warm and fat as I carried him upstairs.

  After the usual hissing when I introduced Otto, most of it coming from Dashiell, I walked around the house so he could follow me and explore. That’s when I wondered if they made a bed larger than a king-size to accommodate yet another cat. Little Otto would soon want to join his new friends at night.

  Nine

  For the first time since Tom and I married last fall, he wasn’t home when I awoke the following morning. He’d stayed at the police station. But, of course, I wasn’t alone. Four cats were staring at me, and Chablis took this feline attention one step further by kneading my chest. When I’d gotten up at about three a.m. to check on Otto downstairs, they’d all remained sound asleep. I’d put the kitten to bed down there since I wasn’t sure he was ready to join the clowder. He’d been sound asleep like the rest of the cats in the middle of the night and I had no trouble getting back to sleep myself.

  After the morning routine of feeding cats, showering and eating breakfast, I poured my second cup of coffee and decided to call Shawn. Yesterday had been so difficult for him, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I sat on the couch with Otto and Chablis in my lap. The other three cats believed, as usual, that they needed to check out Mercy Lake and make sure that it had remained still and safe while they’d been napping and not keeping watch. They then turned their attention to the hummingbird wars currently being waged at the feeder hanging from the deck post.

  Shawn answered on the third ring and sounded weary. “Oh, hi, Jillian. Hear anything about the murder?”

  “Nope. I wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s my biggest concern right now.”

  “I’m fine, but I never want to wear handcuffs again. I’m glad Allison wasn’t around to see me shamed like that. Not that I didn’t bring it on myself. I’m not sure I thanked you for helping me out. If you hadn’t been there, I might have totally lost it.”

  “Shawn, you are one of my dearest friends and I didn’t do much
of anything but sit there. How did the shelter fare without your guidance?”

  “Okay, I guess. No problems have surfaced. Once I was back in my office, I recalled a few names of folks who complained about Chester and I e-mailed them to Tom. I hated doing that, though. I felt like a snitch in a bad movie.”

  “He has to touch base with all potential suspects. We need to find out who committed this murder.”

  Shawn, still sounding down in the mouth, said, “I suppose. Thanks for checking on me. I have a lot of cats to examine. Doc Jensen is headed over here to help me out. It’s tough to keep more than twenty cats in quarantine—mostly because I can’t stand the racket. They’re a loud bunch and used to being spoiled rotten, is my guess.”

  I heard the life come back into his voice as he spoke of the cats. Despite the situation, I was certain they would cheer him up. We said good-bye, and as soon as I disconnected, my phone rang. It startled Otto awake and he leapt off my lap. Blinking away sleep, he sat down and stared up at me. Gosh, he was so cute with that smudge of black on his pink nose.

  I didn’t recognize the number of whoever was calling, even though it was a local area code. I answered and offered a tentative hello, hoping someone wasn’t ready to sell me something.

  “Is this Ms. Hart?” a woman asked.

  “I’m Jillian Hart. Can I help you?”

  “You can. My name is Brenda Ross. I’m a doctor treating a woman named Minnie Schultz. She said a lady visited her yesterday and took a cat from her—one she loves. She said you would keep it safe. I got your name from the policewoman stationed outside Mrs. Schultz’s door.”

  “You found the right person, but why is there an officer outside her door?” To myself I added, And what, exactly, do you need from me?

  “I’m not certain if they suspect Mrs. Schultz of murder or if they feel the need to protect her. Deputy Jewel wouldn’t tell me.”

  “No, she wouldn’t do that.” I smiled to myself. I felt fortunate when Lois Jewel shared anything with me. “How can I help?”

  “I know Mrs. Schultz’s home is a crime scene, but I told my patient I would gather a few of her things. She’s quite agitated and I believe it would calm her to have familiar items within sight. It seems unclear when she’ll be released. Can you help me with that? I have a list.”

  What kind of doctor didn’t know when her own patient would be released? Added to that, what doctor would go to all this trouble? Then it dawned on me. Dr. Ross was a psychiatrist—at least that was my best guess. “I might be able to help. I’ll make a call. Can I reach you at this number in a few minutes?”

  “You can. Thanks so much.”

  We disconnected and I pressed Tom’s speed dial.

  He immediately apologized for not phoning me first thing this morning, considering this was the first time we’d spent the night apart since our wedding.

  “No problem, hon. You must be swamped. This is about Minnie’s doctor. She just called me.”

  “Really? Did she tell you if they plan to commit Mrs. Schultz to a mental hospital?”

  “No. Do you believe that will happen?”

  “I don’t know what to think about her. It’s all so bizarre. Anyway, what did this doctor want?”

  I explained Dr. Ross’s request. Tom was hesitant at first, but after a few minutes of talking it through with me, he said the doctor and I could meet Candace at Minnie’s house in an hour. He also told me to find out if Minnie had mentioned anything important to the doctor. I explained that it was unlikely Dr. Ross would say anything, considering she had to abide by patient-doctor confidentiality.

  “I’m aware, but you could get our cats to talk if you put your mind to it. Please give it your best effort—but only if you feel comfortable.”

  “I’ll try—but maybe whatever Minnie wants from home will tell you something about her.”

  “Good point,” Tom said. “Candace will meet you over at the house. Good luck, Jilly. I love you.”

  Around ten a.m., Candace greeted me with a hug at Minnie’s house on Mill Creek Road. The scent of spring, that fresh smell of new grass and blooming flowers, seemed in stark contrast to the yellow crime scene tape surrounding me everywhere I looked.

  While we waited on the front sidewalk for Dr. Ross to arrive, Candace told me she’d uncovered names and addresses for Minnie’s family yesterday and hoped to bring them all in for interviews today. “And get this. The ex-wife, one Marjorie Allen, already called a life insurance company about Chester Winston’s policy—and they, in turn, called us.”

  I glanced at a small white SUV pulling into the driveway. It was probably the doctor. I turned my attention back to Candace. “You have a new suspect, then?”

  “His kids are the beneficiaries, not her. As of right now, between the people Chester pissed off and his family, that suspect pool seems Olympic-size.”

  A woman exited the SUV. She looked to be in her thirties and wore a khaki skirt with a crisp rose-colored shirt. The color complemented her fair skin and short blond hair.

  She introduced herself as Brenda Ross and shook hands with both of us. Dr. Ross turned a wide silver ring on her right hand around and around as Candace led the way onto the small front porch.

  “I’ve never been to a crime scene before,” she said. “In other words, I’m nervous.”

  Candace smiled reassuringly and unlocked the front door with keys I assumed she’d found yesterday. Unless they’d been in Minnie Schultz’s possession and had somehow found their way to Candace.

  The crime scene tape ripped apart as she opened the front door. Candace said, “Don’t worry. The body is long gone. We might not even have to enter the room where the man died, depending on what Mrs. Schultz wants you to bring her from the house. I’ll have to make notes on anything you take.”

  I felt claustrophobic in the narrow path of boxes the paramedics had made when they came here yesterday. They were stacked almost to the ceiling around us.

  Dr. Ross reached into her bag and removed her phone. She put in her code and tapped an app and started reading. “A pair of slippers with cats on them. Her special toothpaste. Her moisturizer. A nightgown. Underwear.”

  I was standing between the two women, and knowing Candace as well as I did, I sensed her tension before she even spoke. Her eyes narrowed, she said, “That all sounds perfectly normal. Did Mrs. Schultz become lucid after a session with you?”

  Dr. Ross smiled. “These are things she came up with after I suggested personal items would make her more comfortable. She actually first named off several of her cats when I asked her what I could bring her. She did mention a special quilt, though. It also has to do with the cats, from what I gathered.”

  “Ah.” Candace blushed, understanding she’d made an incorrect assumption.

  Meanwhile, I smiled at the mention of a quilt. Minnie Schultz might be a woman after my own heart.

  Dr. Ross stared up and around at the wall of boxes. “Was Minnie in the process of moving out? Because she never told me anything about that—not that she would remember, considering her mental state. I know so little about her and—forgive me for saying this—but Deputy Jewel isn’t exactly forthcoming.”

  “She’s following orders from the police chief to share as little information as possible. Small towns are always populated by big mouths.” Such a typical Candace answer. She was definitely in cop mode.

  Dr. Ross seemed to stand taller and looked a little peeved. “Sorry, but that doesn’t work for me. I understand you have a job to do, but so do I. Mine is to understand Minnie better. If she’s moving—as in leaving a home she once shared with a now-deceased spouse—that can be very stressful. It could be related to her confused mental state.”

  Candace stared at Dr. Ross. “Okay, how about a little quid pro quo. What’s wrong with Mrs. Schultz?”

  I glanced from Candace back to Dr. Ross, fe
eling as if I were at a tennis match as they conversed.

  “I’m not allowed to share much because I have to follow the law just as you do, but I understand you need answers. Once I’ve talked to the family members—when and if I can find them—and hopefully get a consensus on her treatment, I’ll give you as much information as I can. I will probably be pursuing an involuntary commitment since Mrs. Schultz is a risk to herself, as far as I can tell from our first session. I will say there are other doctors involved in her care. I’m sure Deputy Jewel is aware of all the tests being run.”

  “We have the names of Mrs. Schultz’s children. I can help with that,” Candace said.

  Why did this conversation have to happen in a cardboard tunnel? Maybe these two didn’t have an ounce of claustrophobia, but I sure did. I cleared my throat. “Is there a roomier spot where we could talk about all this?”

  “Sorry, yes,” Candace said.

  She led us through the maze of boxes down the hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. We entered what I assumed was Mrs. Schultz’s bedroom. All the boxes in here had been shoved against one wall. The dated maple furniture—a double bed and a dresser—looked polished and scratch-free despite the fingerprint powder on almost every surface, including the windowsill. I could tell where prints had been lifted, and by my amateur estimation, Candace had found precious few of them in here.

  A mint green chenille spread and white sheets sat in a sad mound in the center of the mattress—more evidence of how this house of cats, probably once comfortable and tidy, had been transformed. This makeover had to do not only with the murder, but with the decline in Minnie Schultz’s mental health. I was beginning to hate these boxes surrounding us at every turn, even as my instincts shouted that they were probably important.

  Candace whipped a wad of latex gloves out of her trouser pockets. She handed a pair to me and to the doctor and snapped a pair on herself. “Touch as few things as possible. We haven’t opened any boxes yet because it is a monumental task and we’ll need help. As for this room, I searched it myself, but I could have missed something.” She pointed to her right. “She kept most of her clothing in the walk-in closet. The bathroom is in there.” She gestured to a door straight ahead, the six-panel door also marred by black fingerprint dust.