Cat Killed A Rat

by ReGina Welling

  Early morning mist hovered over the dew-covered grass and was currently soaking through John’s running shoes with each stride as he dodged right to cross the churchyard where it bordered his favorite trail. This shortcut was about as close to the Ponderosa Pines Unitarian Universalist Church as he ever went unless forced there by a wedding or a funeral. Some people might need to act pious and sit in pews once a week, but his method of worship was found in that moment when his feet hit the ground and propelled him forward.

  Step after step.

  Each footfall a prayer.

  Running was in his blood to the point where it passed being an obsession and became a compulsion.

  Muscles just beginning to loosen and warm up, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the back door of the church was open. Should he just keep going or check to make sure nothing was wrong? He took three long strides before civic responsibility won out over a hedonistic need for the release of endorphins and he turned back to poke his head in the door.

  “Hello?” Dead silence, but for his own voice echoing back to him. The last thing he wanted to do was go farther inside; but he did, calling out again all along the hallway that led past a series of empty classrooms and a small kitchenette. Entering the vestibule, he tested the main double doors but they were both locked.

  Nothing appeared amiss, but his conscience wouldn’t let him just leave without checking the whole building so he stepped through the archway into the chapel proper. The only noise he heard was the whisper of his trainers on the carpet and the gentle whoosh of his own breath.

  Eerie stillness crawled across his skin, raising goosebumps every time he paused.

  Slowly, he moved toward the altar, eyes and ears alert, then behind it to the anteroom which functioned as both storage and the pastor’s private office. It was there that he made a grisly discovery.

  Luther Plunkett lay at the foot of a fallen ladder. John couldn’t bring himself to test for a pulse, but he knew from the angle of the contractor’s neck and the way his eyes stared at nothing that it was long past too late.

  Swallowing hard kept the contents of his stomach down, but it was a moment or two before he felt capable enough of speech to pull the cell phone out of his pocket and call the authorities. Later, when he told the story, he left out the part where his knees shook while he was alone with a dead body.

  It was only a few minutes, but to John it seemed like an age before Doc Talbot walked through the door.

  “Nate’s on his way. Where’s Luther? Show me.”

  John pointed, and Talbot made a beeline to where the contractor lay.

  “It might be a layman’s opinion,” John said, avoiding looking at the body, “but there’s not going to be anything you can do to help him.” Another shudder ran through him when he recalled the way Luther’s eyes had already begun to cloud over.

  “No, he’s been gone awhile. I need to call it in.” Talbot pulled out his cell and spoke quietly into it. “Nate, I’m on the scene. It’s Luther Plunkett. Unattended death.” A pause. “Eight hours, give or take.”

  It was a long time to lie alone, John thought. Sad how no one had missed the man in all that time. “Looks like you’ve got this under control; I’ll be going now.” John shuffled from one foot to the other. No way would he be finishing his run today. He only hoped the heebie-jeebies washed off in the shower because that’s where he was headed just as soon as he got out of here.

  “You might as well stay; Nate will want to talk to you.”

  “I’ll wait outside then.” The air in the church seemed heavy, and when John had cleared the doors, he gulped in deep breaths of clean, pine-scented freshness to clear his head.

  * * *

  Nate Harper arrived on the scene a few moments later. It seemed like an eternity to poor John, who just wanted find his calm again after such a traumatic experience. Dalton Burnsoll followed behind, looking like a kid in a candy store. Wide eyes and an avid expression gave away the fact that he was not a seasoned deputy, and that he was finding his first foray into crime scene investigation positively thrilling.

  Regardless of its humble first impressions, the town of Ponderosa Pines hosted rather a lot of expensive, cutting edge green technology. To that end, the board preferred to maintain a small police presence in the form of having at least one resident deputy. Bud Plaistow filled the law enforcement need for fifteen years, but his recent retirement left a vacancy. For two months, the position remained empty until Dalton Burnsoll’s surprising renaissance had pushed him into applying for the job.

  It had been a stroke of luck when Nate Harper arrived to help train Dalton, even on a temporary basis. Convenient besides, since Nate had been a darned good homicide cop before his unfortunate injury. His arrival coincided perfectly with Luther’s untimely death.

  Little did the town know how vehemently Nate did not want to return, and how anxious he was to get back to what he considered his real job. He hoped his shoulder would heal quickly; the less time he had to spend here, the better. The only silver lining he could find was an opportunity to reconnect with Chloe, for whom he had always harbored a crazy, secret crush.

  The span of Nate’s memory, from childhood to the present, was punctuated by flashes of Chloe. Chloe as a small child, blond pigtails bouncing as she ran ahead of him through a corn field, laughter bubbling from her throat. Chloe as a skinny, pre-teen tomboy, lounging on the stream bank next to him while he reeled in sunfish after sunfish. Chloe as a young girl, beautiful and kind, pulling him into another adventure. Each visit, she was a new enigma, transformed by the outside world.

  It had never made any sense to pursue her; he knew she wouldn’t be staying long and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. When she returned to Ponderosa Pines, Nate had thought about asking her out on a date. They were closer in actual distance than they had ever been, but part of him wondered how long she’d really stick around. Now, three years later, it didn’t look like she was going anywhere, so maybe it was time to take the leap.

  Not that he had as much free time as he had expected. It was up to him to train a new deputy, and it was taking more of his time and energy than he’d originally thought it would.

  Eager to please, Dalton never hesitated to jump in on a task, even if he had no idea what he was doing.

  For all that, he was actually starting to grow on Nate, who was pleased that someone so zealous had taken up the post. The Pines certainly didn’t need the kind of protection Nate was used to offering; he just hoped Dalton would be able to step up to the plate when the time came for Nate to return to his post in the city.

  Flashing through town with his lights on turned Nate into the cop equivalent of the Pied Piper. Those who saw him fly by followed and spread the word to everyone else. Within minutes, half the town knew something was happening at the church, and quite a few of them gathered outside to gawk and speculate.

  Nate took a quick statement from John, who was visibly worn and reaching the end of his rope, then told him it was okay to leave. One look at the crowd out front turned John’s feet toward the back door of the church. Nothing mattered more right now than slipping away without fielding the inevitable questions.

  “You go; I’ll distract them,” Nate offered before turning to the crowd milling about the church entrance and making a brief statement while John slid unnoticed into the trees. He made a mental note to thank Nate later before letting the peace of his personal sanctuary provide the balm to soothe his soul.

  Nate stood in front of the crowd. “There has been an accident here, and until we have notified the family of the individual involved, I have to ask that you all clear out. We will release a statement as soon as possible. But for now, please let us do what we need to do.”

  Disappointment colored the faces of a few of the nosier residents, but most seemed to understand and the group dissipated.

  When Nate finally entered the church to survey the crime scene, Dalton followed. What he saw wiped the elation from his
face. Though it was not the first dead body he had ever seen, it was the first time he had been privy to the sight of a person who had met their end in a painful and unnatural way.

  Dalton had never cared for Luther Plunkett; they had been thrown together on various town committees over the years, and Luther had always come across as somewhat of a slacker asshat. Still, on a base level, Luther was a human being; and Dalton wasn’t one to assume that what someone showed on the outside was necessarily indicative of what was going on inside.

  Nate watched as Dalton struggled with the scene before him, watched the emotions play across his new deputy’s face: shock, sadness, and anger at the waste of a life all flitted past before he settled on acceptance and determination. It was the exact same experience Nate remembered from his first homicide investigation, and he had seen many a newbie cop who couldn’t handle the realities placed before him. It appeared that Dalton would be more than capable of serving and protecting once he had been fully trained.

  Chapter Eight

  For EV, the day started perfectly. She rolled out of bed without having to be awakened by an electronic rooster. She padded down the stairs of her energy-efficient home for a healthy breakfast followed by some time spent tending her gardens.

  After a hot shower, she booted up her computer to take care of correspondence and whatever tweaks were needed on her family’s corporate website before heading out to one of her haunts where she could hear the latest local gossip.

  Any grapevine as strong as the one in this small town needed tending, and EV considered herself a gossip gardener. It was her duty to nip off tendrils of exaggeration or prune vines that threatened to produce sour grapes.

  Half the charm of a small town lay in the willingness of residents to be generally helpful to one another. The old saying about sticks and stones was a load of crap—words hurt when they were sharpened into barbs by wagging tongues, then slung without thought, but a word or two in the right ear at the right time was often enough to keep neighbors civil.

  It was her civic duty to stand guard over the grapevine; it was much more than her favorite form of entertainment.

  She smile at the thought. That might be a bit of a stretch.

  She left her last watering hole in plenty of time to do more for the community. She was spending the afternoon packing boxes of vegetables at the food co-op. Arriving early, she stationed herself in the prime spot for overhearing the most conversation. With her back to everyone, filling gallon-sized bags with handfuls of fresh, fragrant green beans, she listened to Mr. Zellner explain his version of events from the night before.

  “That Luther doesn’t have brains enough to shut up when he’s behind. There’s obvious benefits to joining up with Gilmore, if he would have explained it right.”

  Just as she was tempted to turn around and blast his socks off, Horis cut in and did it for her.

  “What benefits? Higher taxes? We already have our own school system, our own small police department, and a fair method of government that takes into account the needs and desires of the community. What more do you want?”

  Zellner mumbled, “Backwards, back-woods hick.”

  EV spun around and took a deep breath to let him have it but Horis shook his head. “Save it.”

  She tried to let it go, but couldn’t resist a parting shot. “It’s a town, not a cage. You don’t need an invitation to move out; you can do that any time.”

  “Could move to Gilmore without doing a thing, if you’d just play ball.” Zellner had to have the last word.

  Having made his point, the older man stormed off as fast as his spindly legs would carry him—somewhere around the same pace as a turtle on a cold day—while EV and Horis watched.

  Once he was out of earshot, EV turned to Horis. “Is that what everyone wants? For me to shut up and let Gilmore annex us?” An echoing cavern swallowed her stomach. “I never thought…I assumed the town was happy the way we are. Was I wrong?”

  Horis shoved at his glasses, the gesture absent-minded. He laid a hand on her shoulder with a tentative awkwardness that was meant to be comforting. “Zellner thinks chemical pesticides will do a better job of getting rid of the grubs that got into his strawberry patch. Trouble is, he waited so long to do anything about them, they’re going to be tough to cull. He’s getting too old to push the tiller, and he’s too stubborn to ask for help. He figures the more lenient Gilmore regs would let him use chemicals that are easy enough for him to apply himself.”

  These were the little types of fires EV helped put out on a daily basis. Thanking Horis for the insight, she approached his nearest neighbor and, after a short conversation, hunted down Mr. Zellner.

  “I was just talking to Tank, and he said he’s been having some trouble with grubs at his place. He’s afraid they’ve been crossing over from his acreage to yours. By way of an apology, he’d appreciate it if you’d let him treat your strawberry patch with a new recipe he wants to try—neem oil mixed with water; sprays on and gets rid of most pests in a few days.”

  To save face, Zellner blustered a bit before eventually agreeing. Yet, his posture when he walked away seemed stronger, his step lighter, and EV knew she had gained another supporter.

  She glanced up as somebody approached on a bike. Breathless and pink in the face, Priscilla didn’t even bother to drop the kickstand when she pulled up in front of the co-op to shout, “Luther Plunkett is dead.”

  * * *

  As Chloe approached the neighborhood farmer’s market she could tell something wasn’t right. The flurry of activity wasn’t light and cheerful as usual; people were up in arms about something.

  Maybe Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb are at it again, she thought to herself. Chloe’s intention had been to admire the various fruits and vegetables gathered each week from the patches of community gardens speckled across Ponderosa Pines before filling her shopping basket with enough greens and herbs to make a lovely salad for dinner.

  Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

  EV placed her hand on Cloe’s shoulder, and her friend turned to her, brows furrowed. “What the hell is going on?”

  “You haven’t heard yet? Our favorite douchebag bit the dust last night, and word on the street says it looks like someone whacked him.”

  “Have you been watching The Sopranos again, EV?” Chloe chortled. “Word on the street.”

  “Shouldn’t you be the one who knows what’s happening in this town?” EV shot back with a grin that quickly fell from her face in light of the bad news. Luther might be the worst handyman in the history of home repair, but he wasn’t all bad. You only had to watch him with Talia to know he loved and respected her, so he must have possessed some redeeming qualities.

  With suitably concerned expressions, EV and Chloe linked arms and headed toward the group of citizens gathered in the center of the market.

  “This is supposed to be a safe place to live, not a place where people get murdered in a church,” someone in the middle of the group shouted.

  “We were all at the town meeting the other night, and we all heard several people disagree with Luther’s plan for this town. If this deal is going to cause people to get killed, maybe there’s more to it than we thought,” someone else replied.

  “Or maybe he was right, and we need to think about combining with Gilmore so we can have a bigger police force,” a third citizen said. That voice Chloe recognized right away. Summer Beckett’s nasal tones were as distinctive as her laugh, which sounded like the braying of a donkey.

  “Great,” EV muttered to Chloe. “Now we get to deal with the fallout from this mess. Luther is screwing us over from beyond the grave.” She just knew this was going to light an even bigger fire under Evan’s butt and wasn’t looking forward to dealing with it.

  Chloe stayed rooted to the spot, listening to the ongoing conversation long after EV headed home. When she felt as though she had gleaned enough information for next week’s column, she turned and carried her pitifully empty st
ring bag back the way she came.

  On two things everyone agreed: Luther had been found at the bottom of a twelve-foot stepladder, and his neck had snapped on impact. Officially, it was too soon to tell; but rumor had it he had been pushed.

  Since too many people might have it out for him, Chloe struggled with finding a clear motive for his murder. Of course, it could have something to do with the annexation proposal, but the details of all that were still too nebulous for anyone to have reacted with this much anger.

  It also seemed unlikely that anyone in town would kill over a matter of an overpriced renovation project. Why risk murder when you could simply sue the bastard?

  No, it has to be personal, she pondered as she wandered back toward her house lost in thought. That’s the only logical explanation.

  Since she hadn’t picked up any groceries at the market, Chloe decided to whip up something for lunch with what she already had in her cupboards. She was a fairly accomplished cook and kept a well-stocked pantry for situations such as this.

  She reached into her refrigerator and assessed her options. Pulling out a bunch of fresh carrots, a red pepper that was nearing the end of the crisp stage, and the last few celery stalks left in the drawer, she began assembling a crudite platter. Equal parts sour cream and leftover homemade mayonnaise went into a bowl with some chopped dill and parsley, and Chloe finished off the dip with a squeeze of a lemon she found buried deep in the produce drawer.

  All of the scraps, from the lemon rind to the carrot peels, Chloe packed in a plastic bag and stowed in the freezer. She wasn’t one for wasting food, even food that looked inedible to most people. At some point, the delicious tidbits would make their way into stock for a soup.

  She quickly skewered cubes of chicken breast and fresh pineapple while a grill pan was heating on the stove top, then popped half a baguette into the oven to warm. Realizing she had too much food, Chloe picked up the phone and invited EV to join her. By the time she arrived, the kebabs were caramelizing nicely.