I wasn’t sure what was coming next, but I didn’t get a chance to find out. We hadn’t been inside ten seconds when my cell phone rang.
I said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Who in the world would be calling me at this hour?”
Ethan glanced at his watch. “Uh, it’s nine o’clock, Gramma.”
With the day I’d had, not to mention the miles of territory covered in Guidry’s short letter—he was never a man of many words—I’d just assumed it was around three in the morning. My cell phone was on the coffee table in front of the couch, and when I read the caller ID, I turned to Ethan and frowned.
“It’s Village Meats.”
“Who?”
“The butcher up the street from the bookstore.”
As I flipped my phone open, Ethan whispered, “How the hell does he have your number?”
I held up one finger and said, “Hello?”
“Dixie, this is Butch from the butcher shop. I’m really sorry to call you, but this old guy just knocked on my window. He doesn’t have a cell phone—that’s how old we’re talkin’ about. He says he got that cat cornered out back in the alley. I said I’d give you a call.”
I said, “Mr. Silverthorn?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Old guy with gray hair. He said you’re good at catching cats.”
“Huh. Okay, thanks, Butch. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. I flipped the phone closed and said, “This will take twenty minutes tops.”
“Who is Butch? And where are you going?”
“He’s the butcher. He said Mr. Silverthorn is there and he’s got Cosmo cornered in the alley.”
“He’s Butch the Butcher?”
I picked up my backpack. “Would I make that up?”
“So what does Mr. Silverthorn need you for?”
“Ethan, he’s an old man and that cat is fast. There’s no way he could catch him.”
He sighed. “But what about dessert?”
I laughed as I kicked off my sandals and pushed my feet into a pair of Keds. “Oh, so that’s what you’re worried about!”
“Babe. It’s Michael’s key lime pie.”
“I know, I know. We’ll have it when I get back.”
He followed me out to the balcony. Michael and Paco were still sound asleep on the deck. He said, “Well, I guess I better bring in that table anyway. If the tide comes in we’ll never see it again.”
“Okay. I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”
He gave me a quick kiss at the top of the stairs and then watched me bound down the steps. As I hopped across the driveway I shouted, “If you eat all that pie I’ll kill you!”
He grinned. “You better hurry, then.”
28
I sped along Midnight Pass, thinking proudly that everything was falling perfectly into place. I had decided that once we had Cosmo safely ensconced in the cat carrier, I’d suggest we take him to the vet right away, and I’d call Dr. Layton to see if she could come in for an emergency checkup. Even though I’d left plenty of food for him, there was no telling what Cosmo had been eating these last few days, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
Then I’d offer to pick Cosmo up in the morning and deliver him right to Mrs. Silverthorn’s arms. I figured it wouldn’t be hard to convince her to adopt him, and that way I’d have the perfect opportunity to visit the mansion one more time, and I could draw Janet aside and tell her where Baldy was. I’d do my best to persuade her to turn herself in, and I’d even drive her to the police station if she needed moral support.
My timing was excellent. I sailed right through all the lights, and in no time at all I was pulling into a parking place on the deserted street right in front of Beezy’s Bookstore. There was a chill in the breeze off the water, so I grabbed Ethan’s black hoodie from the backseat and then went around to the back of the car and took out one of my plastic cat carriers. I was just about to make my way to the alley when I remembered the cat treats.
I zipped my backpack open and pawed through it, feeling around for my little plastic bag of cubed cheese, but of course with all the junk I carry around in there it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t very well use my tried and true method of dumping everything out and combing through it—that would have taken too long, and Mr. Silverthorn was waiting for me. Plus, no animal likes to be cornered. I knew Cosmo would eventually make a run for it given half a chance, and I could just see Mr. Silverthorn’s face when I explained why it took me so long to get to him.
I had worked my arm all the way down to the bottom of the backpack and was about to give up and dump the whole thing out in the street when finally my fingers slid across the crinkly plastic and my hand closed around the gumball-sized chunks of cheese inside. With a huge sigh of relief and a solemn promise to be less of a slob from now on, I wrestled the bag of treats out and stuffed it down in the pocket of my hoodie.
Even though the moon was casting a blue glow over the entire alley, it was dark. There was just one light on, midway down toward the north end, and I wondered why in the world Butch hadn’t at least kept his back light on so we could see what the heck we were doing. I was thinking I’d have to go back again and fish around in my backpack for my penlight when I heard a crunching sound behind me.
“Dixie? Is that you?”
I turned to find Mr. Silverthorn, about twenty feet past the butcher shop, his face illuminated with the light from his rusty old flashlight. “We’re over here.”
I let out a sigh of relief as I made my way to him. “I’m glad you thought to bring that flashlight. I left mine in the car.”
“Well, we may still need yours yet. The light on this one is getting dimmer and dimmer. I believe the batteries may be older than I am.”
I smiled. “Sorry it took me so long, I had a little trouble finding my cat treats.”
He directed the beam of the flashlight down a narrow loading area cut into one of the buildings, at the end of which was a metal Dumpster with what looked like a small tool shed to the left of it. “I think you’ll need them. He’s taken up a rather strong position there in the corner behind that shed. Nothing I say or do seems to have even the slightest effect on him, and I’m afraid I’m too old to crawl under there and grab him.”
I set the cat carrier down and patted the bag of treats in my pocket. “Hopefully we won’t need to crawl under there at all. Even the most stubborn cat can barely resist a piece of cheese.”
“Thank goodness you’re here, Miss Hemingway. And what a turn of luck that the butcher had your number.”
I nodded as I knelt down in front of the cat carrier. “I gave him my card and asked him to call me if he saw anything.”
“That was smart. He was surprisingly interested in the news that I’d found Cosmo, although he seems to have disappeared now.”
I opened up the front door of the carrier. “So if you can just stay close by with this, I’ll try to coax him out with the cheese, and if that doesn’t work and I can’t convince him to come out on his own, I’ll have to try to grab him. He won’t be one bit pleased with me if it comes to that, so the sooner I can get him in the carrier the better.”
He nodded firmly and handed me the flashlight as he picked up the carrier with both hands and readied himself. I had to smile. He seemed more than happy to follow orders, which shouldn’t have surprised me. If I lived with Mrs. Silverthorn I’d probably get used to following orders, too.
The flashlight was pretty dim, but I knew it was strong enough to do the trick, so I crouched down and directed its beam of light along the ground toward the back of the passageway and under the Dumpster. There, in the very back corner at the end of the shed, were two yellow points of light reflecting right back at me.
I whispered, “Mr. Cosmo, I presume?”
The two points of light blinked, and Mr. Silverthorn said, “Is it him?”
“I think so.”
I remembered Mrs. Silverthorn saying Cosmo wouldn’t answer to anythin
g but his full name, but I had a feeling under these circumstances he might be willing to make an exception. I got down on my hands and knees and moved the light from side to side, but now he had turned his head in toward the corner. “I can’t see his face, but I see a lot of fluffy orange fur, and yep, I see a white-tipped tail.”
Mr. Silverthorn sighed with relief. “Oh, thank goodness! Mrs. Silverthorn will be so happy.”
I moved a little closer and lay down flat on the concrete so I could get a better reach. I knew the ground was probably filthy. Lucky for me I had Ethan’s black hoodie to cover my blouse, but my cream-colored capris would probably be ruined. I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get Cosmo out of there as safely and quickly as possible.
Mr. Silverthorn said, “How does he look?”
I held the flashlight steady and reached down into my pocket to get a treat, working my fingers along the top of the plastic bag to pry it open. “He looks pretty well fed, actually, which may make this a little harder.” I extracted a cube of cheese between my thumb and forefinger and held it out in front of me, reaching under the Dumpster as far as my arm would go.
I said, “Cosmo … uh, I mean Moses Cosmo Thornwall, I know you’re probably quite satisfied with all those tasty scraps from Butch’s Dumpster, but I was just wondering if I might interest you in a little late-night snack of cheese…?”
For good measure I moved the flashlight over so Cosmo wasn’t blinded by the light, and then my jaw fell wide open.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
There, right in front of my face, was one of Mr. Hoskins’s chocolates, the ones he’d had in the bowl next to the register, the ones wrapped in shiny silver foil with red stripes. I could feel every neuron in my brain shifting into overdrive as I lay there in total silence, trying to explain it … trying to come up with some kind of reasonable explanation.
Mr. Silverthorn said, “Is everything alright?”
I blinked a couple of times. To be honest, I wasn’t sure. It felt like the entire alley was beginning to slowly spin around me. I guess under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been that unusual to find one of Mr. Hoskins’s chocolates on the ground in the alley behind his store, but this was different. This particular chocolate wasn’t on the ground.
It was in my hand.
I was holding it between my thumb and forefinger.
I said, “I don’t know how this happened, but … I thought I had some cubes of cheese in my pocket, but I don’t. It’s chocolate.”
There was a pause. “Did you say chocolate?”
I instantly thought of Baldy … What you do with chocolate? I had just assumed he’d had a drug-induced dream, but was it possible that he was telling me the truth, that he had actually given me chocolate?
I pulled the plastic bag out of my pocket and pointed the flashlight at it. Sure enough, there were three other chocolates just like it inside. I shook my head. “I must have grabbed the wrong bag or something, but … I have no idea how I got them. They’re the same chocolates from the bookstore.”
I tried to think. I was certain that both times I had visited Baldy at the hospital, I’d left my backpack in the car. In fact, the only time my backpack had been anywhere near him was after the accident, when I’d put it down on the sidewalk next to him. Was it possible he’d secreted these chocolates in my bag when I wasn’t looking? And if so, why?
I heard Mr. Silverthorn take a couple of steps forward. “Here, I’ll take them. Unless this cat shares your weakness for chocolate, I’m afraid we’ll have to try something else.”
I was about to agree when I stopped cold.
Mr. Silverthorn had used that very phrase before, my “weakness for chocolate.” Now that I thought about it, he’d mentioned chocolate the very first time we met, when we spoke briefly on the steps of the mansion. I specifically remembered him saying that Mrs. Silverthorn and I would get along splendidly, because she “also” loved chocolate.
At the time I hadn’t thought much of it, but now, hearing him use that phrase again …
I pushed myself up off the concrete and stood there for a few moments with my back to him, trying to get my bearings. Then I turned and raised the light to his face. He looked completely and utterly confused.
“Miss Hemingway, are you alright? What’s the matter?”
I could feel my heart beating. I said, “Mr. Silverthorn, the first day we met, you told me your wife also liked chocolate. What did you mean by that?”
He frowned slightly and tilted his head to one side. “Pardon me?”
A tiny tremor began bubbling up in my throat, but I forced myself to keep going. “You said she also had a weakness for chocolate…”
He shook his head and shrugged slightly. “My apologies, Miss Hemingway. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”
“No, it’s totally fine, I’m just … the thing is … how did you know?”
I could feel the chocolate getting soft in the palm of my hand, and I thought of the crumbling Silverthorn Mansion, struggling to hold on to its former glory, smothered in a thick web of rosary pea vine. Then I saw Baldy’s panic-stricken face as he turned to me in the hospital room and cried, I told you don’t eat!
The glow from the flashlight on Mr. Silverthorn’s face was dim and flickering now, like a dying candle. I tried shaking the flashlight to try to make it brighter, but that only made it go out completely, and now we were standing there in complete darkness.
He said, “Miss Hemingway, I’m afraid I don’t understand. How did I know … what?”
I said, “How did you…” but my words faded away, because I already knew the answer.
I remembered that first evening, after Baldy’s car crash, when I’d gone to Beezy’s Bookstore and met Mr. Hoskins. I was standing in front of the old cash register and the bowl of chocolates on the countertop, and Mr. Hoskins had just returned from the back office, where he’d wrapped my book up in paper and twine. He caught me eyeing the chocolates and offered me one, and I specifically remembered what I said to him.
I said, I have a weakness for chocolate.
It was completely quiet now except for a low droning drumbeat coming from somewhere far away, and then I realized the drumbeat was me. I could literally hear the blood pumping through my ears. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, Mr. Silverthorn gradually came into view, bathed in the pale blue light from the moon overhead. My mind flashed to the old woman in the video, making her way to the bookstore, and then I saw one of Mrs. Silverthorn’s gray wigs.
My voice trembling, I said, “Mr. Silverthorn … where were you the night Mr. Hoskins was murdered?”
There was a long pause. He was about ten feet away. He calmly put the cat carrier down on the ground and then reached into his jacket, and then I saw the gleam of something metal in the moonlight as he raised his arm and pointed a pistol directly at me.
He said, “This is a very unfortunate turn of events.”
A cold tremor crawled up my spine as I felt my breath catch in my throat. I said, “It was you. It was you in the video. You dressed up in your wife’s clothing, and then you put on one of her wigs. You hid somewhere in the store until I left, and then you killed Mr. Hoskins. You killed him for his money.”
His face was grim. “You’re very smart, aren’t you? And yes, you’re right about my disguise, but the rest of your theory is incorrect. Mr. Hoskins was already long dead by then.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong. He was alive when I left the store.”
The vaguest hint of a smile brushed across his face. “Sometimes I wonder that I didn’t more seriously pursue a career on the stage.”
He held the gun steady as he reached up with his free hand and slowly pulled his long silvery hair forward so that it fell down both sides of his face. Then he hunched his body over and patted his pockets, shuffling toward me and muttering in a creaky voice, “I’m taking a trip very soon, my dear, but I do hope you’ll enjoy your book and y
our chocolate in equal measure.”
Then he raised himself back up and smiled wistfully.
It was all I could do to keep from fainting. The only things missing were the red beret and the dark wraparound glasses.
“I’ll admit I was nervous, as evidenced by my failure to lock the door. So very stupid. The fact that you’d never met Mr. Hoskins was a wonderful stroke of luck for me—and I might add, Miss Hemingway, for you as well. Otherwise, I would never have been able to let you leave the store that night, although in retrospect that might have been easier for everyone, easier than”—he waved his hand between us—“all this.”
My mind was swimming, but I managed to whisper, “And the woman in the drawing…”
“Oh, very good, now you’ve hit the nail square on the head. Imagine my surprise when Janet informed me you’d found something in that tree and put it in your pocket. What possessed you to poke around in that hole I’ll never know.”
“The woman in the drawing … is Janet.”
He frowned. “Oh, dear, no, why would you think that? No, I’m afraid the woman in the drawing is my wife, immortalized, as it were, in a very private moment.”
“Mr. Hoskins…”
He nodded. “Yes, he’s quite a fine artist, isn’t he? I found that drawing one day when I was going through the library, looking for books we might sell to pay off some of the bills. That’s somewhat embarrassing to admit to you now, but no matter. You can imagine my surprise. She must have hidden it in that book at some point and then forgotten.”
I could see his eyes, floating just above the barrel of the pistol. I said, “Mr. Silverthorn … why?”
“Oh, I think you know why, my dear. I’ll let no man take away my dignity. I have my good name to protect, after all.” His hands started to tremble slightly as his eyes narrowed. “And I’m not a fool, Miss Hemingway. I know very well what you and this entire town think of my family. My fortune may be lost, but when they tell the story of Oliver Silverthorn, it will not include the word ‘cuckold.’”
His entire body shuddered at the word, and I thought to myself, This cannot be the way it ends.
The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives Page 23