Dr. Ross sat straighter. This line of questioning seemed to interest her. Or perhaps she wanted to see Greta’s reaction to Candace putting the young woman in her place—because she’d accomplished that much as far as I was concerned.
“Oh, him. No wonder his name sounded familiar. That’s who died?”
I closed my eyes. I rarely get annoyed with people, but Greta’s way of dealing with this interview was wearing on me.
“So you do know him,” Candace said. “Ever meet him at your mother’s house—I mean when you felt it was safe to be there?”
Before she could answer, the muted buzz of a vibrating phone made everyone focus on Dr. Ross. She looked embarrassed and said, “Let me just see what this is about.”
She stood, took her phone from her trouser pocket and turned away from the table.
“Could you answer the question, Mrs. Kramer?” Candace leaned toward Greta, hoping to finally get somewhere.
But Dr. Ross interrupted with “Mrs. Kamer and I need to meet Dr. Patel upstairs. It’s important.”
“Who is Dr.—”
But this latest question from Greta was cut short by Candace. “The doc says move, we move. Let’s go.”
I actually believed she welcomed the end of this frustrating interview. I knew I did. I’d grown so anxious I’d wrinkled the quilt I’d been clinging to for dear life.
“I can come back later and bring Minnie the quilt if—”
“No. I think we should all go,” Candace said. “According to Dr. Ross, you seem to have a rapport with Mrs. Schultz.”
We rode on the elevator in silence, but I noticed that Dr. Ross trapped her lower lip with her teeth and was breathing a little too fast. Something was definitely wrong. Urgently wrong.
Eleven
Dr. Patel, a small man with delicate hands and thick lenses in his glasses, met us outside Minnie’s room. His features seemed to indicate he was of Indian or Pakistani descent.
“I did not expect an entourage, Dr. Ross,” he said pleasantly. “I must speak to you in private if this suits you.”
“Of course. But this young woman is Mrs. Schultz’s daughter. She needs to hear about your findings.”
“Of course. I did not realize you had located her family.” With that, Greta, Dr. Ross and Dr. Patel disappeared into a room at the end of the corridor, leaving Candace and me standing in the hall outside Minnie’s room.
Seconds later, a scrub-suited aide, accompanied by Lois Jewel, wheeled Minnie Schultz toward us. She offered a “Why, hello there,” as her wheelchair passed us and entered her room.
But despite the greeting, I saw no hint she recognized me.
As Candace began to follow them, I stayed back.
“I’ll leave this to you. In fact, perhaps I should head home and—”
Candace used her best stage whisper, grabbed my arm and pulled me toward her. “Nonsense. The woman needs that quilt you’re wringing the life out of, if nothing else.”
By the time we entered, Minnie was settling herself in the bed. The aide finished pulling the white cotton blanket and sheet over her knees and left with the wheelchair.
Minnie pointed at me. “Where do I know you from?”
“We met yesterday,” I said.
“Here at the hotel?” she answered.
Perhaps Greta Kramer came by her questioning conversational style via genetics, upbringing or both.
“We were downstairs in a different part of this . . . facility.” I didn’t want to upset her by telling her this was a far cry from a hotel.
“I’m Detective Carson, Mrs. Schultz—a friend of Deputy Jewel’s.” Candace nodded at Lois.
Minnie reached out for Lois’s hand. “Then you’re a friend of mine, too. Lois is the sweetest thing. She has been such a help.” Minnie’s smile grabbed at me. It was as if she couldn’t quite remember how to form the expression—like it was hard work. “Could you get me a soda pop, Lois? I’d like a Cheerwine, please.”
“Sure.” Lois left the room as fast as a cat with its tail on fire.
I wanted out of here, too—before Dr. Patel reappeared. At this moment I fully understood that what he was now telling Minnie’s daughter and Dr. Ross had nothing to do with mental illness. Something was seriously wrong with Minnie Schultz. The fact that Minnie had no clue only added to how much this upset me. She could be dying. I managed to say, “I brought you something, Minnie,” in as normal a tone as I could muster.
Her eyes traveled to the quilt I held out to her. This time she smiled from her heart. She recognized the quilt. Seeing something familiar did seem to help—but it felt like meager help. Dr. Patel, the neurologist, would deliver a truth I was certain I didn’t want to know.
“Where’s Otto?” Minnie asked. “Are you bringing me his quilt because something bad has happened to him?”
“No, nothing like that,” I said quickly. I whipped out my phone.
When I showed her the live feed of little Otto curled up with Chablis, she cocked her head. “He’s on TV? How did that happen?”
Candace glanced at the smartphone screen. “He’s a cute boy and Jillian is taking good care of him. But right now I need to ask you a few questions about why you left your house.”
“It had become uninhabitable—that’s why. All those boxes everywhere. I suppose they have something to do with Chester, but I’m not quite sure what.” Minnie squinted as if trying to remember. “Perhaps he thought he could take over my home since he started bringing me all those cats. I’m confused about that. Sure, he brought me some sweet babies, but that didn’t mean I wanted to adopt Chester, too.”
I almost laughed, but the seriousness of this situation reminded me immediately that even nervous laughter was wrong. Obviously she remembered Chester, but I doubted she understood he was dead.
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Winston?” Candace was pressing on, no doubt understanding her time for questions would soon be cut short.
Minnie searched the ceiling. Then her gaze trailed in the direction of the window. “Why, I have no earthly idea. He gave me that contraption he called a phone.” She nodded at my hand. “Looked a lot like your little TV. I didn’t understand it, especially when he said we had to talk through it. He seemed to think we didn’t need to be connected to a real telephone and my words would travel through the air if I pushed a few buttons. Silly man.”
Candace held out her cell. “He gave you something like this?”
She squinted at the phone. “Not exactly like that. But close. He said it was our secret. I do believe the man needed Dr. Ross’s help more than I do. She’s a psychiatrist, you know. Someone thinks I’m not parked close enough to the curb, if you know what I mean.”
Candace smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. Where is that thing Chester gave you?”
“I couldn’t tell you, and that’s awful because I used to have such a good memory. Maybe it will come to me later.” Minnie seemed troubled that she couldn’t remember and my heart went out to her.
“How often did Mr. Winston visit you?” Candace asked.
“Lately it seemed like he was at the house all the time, bringing me one cat or another. Mind you, I love cats. They all deserve to be cared for, but I am getting overwhelmed. I might have to just say no the next time. It’s so much work to make sure the place stays clean and all the kitties are well fed.” Minnie turned to me. “Since you went to my home and brought me my quilt, you couldn’t miss seeing how crowded all the poor animals are with those boxes everywhere.”
“You’re right about that,” I replied. “You’re saying you don’t know what’s in the boxes or where they came from?”
“They came from the UPS man and the FedEx woman—she’s a pretty thing and strong as an ox. I was hoping my boys would come by and get rid of them.” Suddenly her eyes filled. “Of course, Harris isn’t strong enou
gh to move much of anything. Henry isn’t, either, for that matter. Why doesn’t Greta visit anymore?”
The sudden change in direction, from the cold hard facts to the emotion of a woman missing her children, brought tears to my eyes as well. I took Minnie’s hand and rested it on the quilt I’d placed on her lap. “We hope to find out.” I looked to Candace for guidance.
She seemed to be at a loss for words. The switch in subject matter had gotten to her, too.
Our silence was interrupted by the entrance of the two doctors and Greta Kramer.
Minnie whispered, “Oh, my word,” and stretched her arms out to her daughter.
Greta went to her mother’s bedside and the two embraced. It was obvious Greta had been crying. What an emotional day for everyone.
Dr. Ross pulled a straight-back chair from the corner and set it next to Minnie’s bed. “Greta, why don’t you sit down?”
Minnie nodded. “Yes, sit, but I had no idea you were pregnant. What’s your husband’s name again?”
Greta glanced up at Dr. Ross before saying, “Aaron. Remember, Mama?”
Minnie smiled, but it was that strange look again, as if she were being asked to understand a foreign language. “Yes. He’s Aaron.”
Dr. Patel introduced himself and then asked Candace and me to leave.
But Minnie said, “These people can hear whatever you have to say. They have been the kindest ladies and have helped me so much.”
Dr. Patel glanced at Greta for her approval. She gripped both her mother’s hands. “If that’s what makes you happy, Mama.”
“Go ahead, Dr. Patel.” Minnie looked at her daughter. “See? I remembered.”
“You have a medical problem that needs to be taken care of right away.” Dr. Patel sure cut right to the chase. “You have a brain tumor, Mrs. Schultz.”
I might have half expected this, but the doctor’s delivery was so blunt, it shocked me. I supposed it was rather like ripping off a Band-Aid stuck fast—rip it clean and quick and it won’t hurt as much.
Minnie blinked. “Well, then, let’s get this taken care of.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if having a brain tumor was like having a paper cut.
“I have a few surgeons in mind who can do the procedure you need. Ethically I cannot play favorites, so you and your daughter will choose. My educated guess is that this is a nonmalignant tumor, but any surgery on the brain is dangerous.”
Nonmalignant. Good. Brain surgery? Not so good.
Candace glanced my way. “Perhaps we should leave them to discuss the details?”
“Of course.” I looked at Minnie. “If there is anything I can do for you, tell Dr. Ross. She has my number.”
“What about Lois?” Minnie said. “Where’s Lois?”
Dr. Ross said, “She’s outside your room. I’ll send her in to say good-bye.”
“She won’t be staying?” Minnie’s eyes pleaded in Candace’s direction.
“She’ll be by to visit, but I hope you understand we really need her help at the police station.” Candace patted Minnie’s arm and left the room as quickly as gossip flew around Mercy.
“Um, can I give you a hug?” Though I wanted to get out of here before I started crying, I felt close to Minnie. I had the feeling Candace’s hasty retreat was to hide her emotions as well. She felt connected to this woman, too.
Seconds later, I joined Candace and Lois outside Minnie’s room. Lois held the Cheerwine soda tightly—so tightly, in fact, that I thought she might dent the can. Candace must have just delivered the news to her fellow officer because Lois was shaking her head sadly.
We started down the hall toward the elevator after Lois had hurried in and dropped off the soda. But we all turned when we heard Dr. Ross call, “Wait.”
“I was afraid of this,” she said after joining us. “She did not present as early-onset Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t a mental illness involving memory loss and confusion, either. I wanted you to know that I have agreed to assist Greta when she gets in touch with the rest of her family. Since her baby is due within the next week or so, she asked for my help, even though this is not a psychiatric issue at all. It seems she’s not sure her brothers will want to be involved in her mother’s aftercare.”
Candace sounded irritated when she said, “Maybe they’ll just have to step up. Your mother is your mother and you care for her no matter what. You can be sure they’ll each get a chance to visit my interview room down at the station. I might have a hard time withholding that particular piece of my mind.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to be involved?” I asked.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Candace said. “I’ve talked to them on the phone and I wasn’t impressed with either of them. They didn’t seem to care that their mother was in the hospital or that a dead man was found in her house.” Candace lowered her voice. “This isn’t for public consumption, but be very careful, Dr. Ross. Harris and Henry Schultz knew the dead man and his family. Seems Chester’s kids and Minnie’s sons went to high school together. I didn’t let on that I knew this when I spoke to them. I’m waiting to see how forthcoming they’ll be when we sit down face-to-face.”
I could tell when Lois’s mouth formed a surprised O that it was big news to her that the brothers had a connection to Chester’s family. But Lois came from a big city, not small-town America, so these links between folks weren’t as common there as they were here. I wasn’t the least bit astonished that they knew one another. What did surprise me was that Belle failed to mention this—because surely she must have known.
Dr. Ross said, “Thanks for letting me know. Perhaps I’ll let Greta handle this herself, after all. I would hope that learning their mother is gravely ill will make a difference to those young men.” Brenda Ross glanced back in the direction of Minnie’s room.
“Please don’t mention anything else about Chester,” Candace warned.
“I promise.” Dr. Ross continued on her way.
As we entered the elevator, Candace said, “Guess it’s time for me to pull those twins in for an interview. Who knows? Perhaps they’ll develop an ounce of compassion and come to their mother’s bedside before her surgery.”
“Maybe,” I replied. But if they’d already shown that they didn’t care, why would this change their minds? Unless they thought she might die and there was money involved. Money always had a way of changing certain people’s minds.
Twelve
By the time I arrived home, my stomach growled in protest at being neglected. I’m not one to forget to eat, but I simply hadn’t had an opportunity. But lunchtime was long past and dinner might have to be pizzas I delivered to the police station so I could share a little time with Tom.
The cats seemed pretty darn upset at my absence. They were getting used to me talking to them through the camera, but it would never replace being here with them. Feeling guilty, I sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and gave each one of them some much-needed attention.
Otto had been left alone too long, and after I slapped together a cheese sandwich with mustard, I retrieved him from the basement room where I’d put him before leaving the house this morning. He purred loudly but wanted out of my arms the minute I reached the kitchen. He walked right over to Dashiell, the only one of our cats who’d hissed at him, and rubbed against him. This little guy certainly had moxie and was rewarded with another hiss for his efforts. Dashiell walked off, but my other three were happy to sniff Otto all over and Merlot even bumped heads with him. This hit from my gentle giant sent poor Otto sprawling, but he quickly got up, and soon a game of chase between Syrah, Merlot and Otto ensued.
The happiness watching them bond, play and just be such typical cats relaxed me as the stress of the last two days melted away. Chester’s murder was still a nightmare, of course, and if I could assist Tom and Candace, I would. What surprised me, however, was the strong need I felt to help Minn
ie Schultz. Maybe it was because her family’s behavior bothered me. True, her daughter had been supportive once she found out about the brain tumor, but why had it taken such an awful diagnosis? I didn’t know their history other than what Belle had told me. All I knew was that Minnie Schultz needed all the support she could get.
I decided to think through all that happened in the last two days by sitting in my sewing room and working on a quilt order that was nearly finished. I always thought better with needlework in hand. I’d already machine-sewn the bindings on the three plaid kitty quilts ordered by a returning customer. Now I needed to hand-stitch those bindings onto the back of each one. That was the last step, but the playful Otto wasn’t about to let me be. I kept having to stop and get him out of a drawer or off a shelf. When he crawled up my leg—his little claws like needles through my khakis—I gave up. Otto needed attention and I didn’t blame him.
He and I played for the next thirty minutes. He liked the feathers on a wand the best and chased the toy as I swiped it along the floor in the living room. Of course, what cat could ignore feathers on a stick? Soon all five cats took turns. Otto tired first, of course, and while I continued to sit cross-legged on the floor and play with my four kitties, the little one crawled up onto my shoulder and purred in my ear. He was soon asleep.
I held him gently against my cheek and grabbed a little quilt from the basket near the sofa. After laying it out on the sofa, I set him down. Otto curled into a little black-and-white ball and continued his nap.
Once all the cats grew bored with feathers, my thoughts turned to Tom. I was so used to having him call me frequently throughout the day or even come home and surprise me with flowers or kisses or just to chat about whatever they were working on. Not now. Not with a murder to solve. Gosh, I missed him.
But I could do a little something for him and the rest of those folks working the case. I texted him and suggested I bring pizzas around seven this evening. He quickly texted back and told me to call B.J. for details on what everyone might like on their pie. So I did, and once I had ideas for several different pizzas, I was free, at least for now, to finish binding those quilts.
The Cat, the Collector and the Killer Page 8