Cat Killed A Rat

by ReGina Welling

  Slowly she paged through each image while Dalton watched the emotions play across her face: sorrow, sympathy, anger, and lastly resolve. With a short, angry motion, she shoved the tablet toward him. “Open the report.” When he paused, she added, “Please,” in a softer tone.

  He complied, then excused himself to visit the restroom. The second he was out of sight, EV’s fingers flew over the touch screen while keeping an eye out for his return. Just because she hated these little devices didn’t mean she couldn’t use one when she had a need. Within seconds, a copy of everything was winging its way to Chloe’s email.

  * * *

  The telltale beep-boop-boop-beep of Chloe’s phone indicated a new email had arrived, and her eyes widened as she scrolled through the files forwarded from Dalton’s tablet. Peeking at the clock on her bedside table, she noted it was after 11 o’clock at night.

  Good for Dalton, she thought. He made her partake in an entire date before handing over the goods. Chloe was already snuggled into bed, and refrained from trudging up to her office for a better look on her computer screen. Instead, she grabbed her tablet from the charging port nearby.

  Further inspection sobered Chloe’s mood. As she scrolled through the crime scene photos, she shuddered at the thought of one grisly murder happening so close to home, much less two.

  One of the skills she learned in journalism school was how to remain detached from unpleasant images, but it was a whole lot easier when you didn’t know the individuals involved. The sight of empty eyes on a face you were used to seeing full of light and animation was unsettling, and could make even the most stoic person in the world wary of her own mortality.

  In addition to the photos, EV had forwarded the preliminary coroner’s report and an image of a drawer full of handwritten note cards. Chloe didn’t have to use her investigative skills to conclude that these must be the blackmail letters written to Evan. Judging by the number of envelopes, the extortion had been going on for quite a while.

  Whatever was in those envelopes might hold the key to finding out who had killed the Plunkett men. They needed more information, and there was only one place they were going to get it. It was time for an honest conversation with Nate, and only a small part of her, buried deep down, was looking forward to it for reasons other than helping solve the murders.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  August dragged forth, hot and sticky, as it always did, and Ponderosa Pines was at a near standstill save for the poor souls on farm-duty rotation. Everyone else typically adopted a South American attitude toward the weather, choosing to relax on the pond and take mid-day siestas until the cool breezes of September rolled in.

  Aiming a portable misting fan at the back of her neck, Chloe meandered toward town for some iced coffee. It will be winter soon, so enjoy the warm weather while it lasts, was Chloe’s mantra. She would be wishing it was warm again in a few months, but at that moment, the thought of cool, crisp autumn air sounded like heaven.

  Outside The Mudbucket, several patrons languished on the brick patio. Some carped about the heat while others cast irritated glances toward the window, where the business end of an air conditioner dripped and hummed loudly. It wasn’t much cooler inside, but she imagined the wait staff appreciated the slight reprieve.

  What’ll it be?” the cranky, damp-looking barista barked at Chloe.

  “Three large iced coffees with cream please. And some sugar on the side.” She took no offense at the tone, chalking up the attitude as heat-related. “Oh, and a dozen glazed donuts.”

  Okay, the eye roll wasn’t necessary, but Chloe brushed it off and congratulated herself on remembering that Nate couldn’t resist the moist, yeasty dough bombs.

  When Dalton sold the shop, he included his famous recipe—a gesture much appreciated by the entire town. Everything tasted pretty much the same across the board, but the Ericksons had added their own unique flair to the menu. Several varieties of smoothies, a couple of homemade soups, and veggie wraps to die for had turned the Mudbucket from a simple coffee shop into a popular lunch spot.

  The aforementioned patio was an excellent spot for people-watching, and since everyone in town was a busybody in one way or another, anywhere in the outdoor area was usually considered the best seat in the house. Chloe knew EV preferred her perch by the kitchen door, but the patrons sitting outside were particularly loose-lipped. Today, however, the entire town was only talking about one subject, and Chloe didn’t hear anything she hadn’t heard already.

  A short walk along a well-beaten path through a patch of apple trees led Chloe to the small municipal building. Positioned kitty-corner from the Grange Hall, the octagon-shaped structure held a couple of small offices utilized by the current selectmen and women, and a part time clerk who handled fishing and hunting licenses and collected excise tax for vehicle registrations. Though not entirely necessary, the town provided their resident deputy with an office located in the back of the building. Chloe wandered around to use the dedicated entrance.

  Resistance met her tentative push on the office door. Peering around the box of donuts she had balanced precariously on top of the tray of iced coffees, Chloe pushed harder and nearly fell in a heap onto a pile of file boxes.

  A frazzled-looking Dalton took the box of donuts from her so suddenly that the absence of weight threw her into another near spill. She glared at Nate, whose mouth was screwed up into a mischievous smile he was obviously trying to disguise as concern.

  “Why don’t you take your coffee and donut outside, and find a shady place to eat, Dalton? It’s time for a break, and it’s probably no hotter out there than it is in here.” Nate suggested.

  “No problem; I’m ready for some sunshine anyway. Nice to see you, Chloe.” Dalton nodded to her, looking slightly disappointed at not being allowed to listen in on Chloe and Nate’s impending conversation. “How’s EV doing?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice. He hadn’t seen her since their date a couple weeks prior.

  “She could be better, Dalton. Everyone in town thinks she’s Satan on a stick,” Chloe replied with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. She sighed and decided to cut him a break when worry settled over his features. “Why don’t you call her? I think she could use some support, much as she’d hate to admit it.”

  Once he departed, Chloe took a seat across from Nate and peered around the room. A distinct mark in the middle of the carpet matched the pattern of Nate’s desk legs. The desk was now pushed against one wall, presumably to make room for Dalton’s workspace.

  Mismatched shelving lined the back office wall and held a potpourri of items ranging from political science textbooks to fingerprinting and office supplies. She spotted a dusty bottle of antacids and one of those mounted talking fish among the mishmash.

  Boxes piled high next to the door were labeled with dates, and Chloe remembered that all town records had been kept in this office in a giant, locked filing cabinet. It seemed to have disappeared in favor of Dalton’s desk. Every surface was covered with stacks of brown folders in various states of disintegration.

  “Nice mess, huh? It was my bright idea to make Dalton a deputy. He seemed so eager, and having a helping hand sounded genius. But it seems I’ve created more work for myself in the form of organizing thirty years of town records. Do you know what kind of ridiculous documents were saved by the elders? I don’t care that in 1988 you purchased two cases of staples! Records retention was definitely a concern.” He scowled and pushed aside a pile of folders to make more room.

  “So what’s going on, and why did you bring me high cholesterol?”

  Chloe frowned directly at him with her right eyebrow raised. “Wow, Mr. Crankypants. Tell me how you really feel!”

  “C’mon. I know you’re not here just for the pleasure of my conversation or to fatten me up with donuts. What do you want?” Chloe liked friend Nate more than she liked cop Nate, that was for sure. She hoped he would settle in soon and lose the ’tude. Even as much as she knew he didn’t want to be the
re, Chloe thought he was acting like a big baby about the whole situation.

  “I want to see the blackmail notes you found in Evan’s things.” Chloe responded without hesitation.

  Nate allowed his mouth to drop open for a split second before snapping it shut again. “How do you manage to know as much as a trained detective? And how am I supposed to conduct an official investigation with everyone in town sticking their noses in where they don’t belong?”

  “Might as well accept it; there’s nothing you can do about it. We heard it first from Lottie—and you know if there’s something to dish she’s going to make sure the whole town eats it up.”

  He sat back and surveyed Chloe, his countenance morphing from disbelief and irritation to one of mischief and curiosity. “What are you going to give me in return?” His eyebrow rose in perfect imitation of Chloe’s earlier expression.

  Unsure whether he was flirting with her or not, several thoughts—and a thrill of excitement—raced through Chloe’s head as she prepared a response. Is the entire Ponderosa Pines police force unopposed to bribery as long as it involves scoring a date? But since Nate had never asked her and been turned down, she chalked his attitude up to facetiousness and replied calmly, “I happen to also know that Luther received at least one threatening note of his own. I have the original, and I will give it to you as evidence. I don’t know if there were more, and I’m not exactly in a position to ask, since I don’t know if Talia’s aware of the situation. I don’t want to put any more on her plate right now. In addition to the note, EV and I will give you the inside scoop on all the Ponderosa gossip you can stomach.”

  Digesting the information Nate opted not to scold Chloe again. At least she had come to him directly, even if sat on the information for weeks.

  Besides, what good would it do to come off looking like a jerk?

  He knew she was trustworthy, if impetuous, and no one was more dialed in than EV and Chloe when it came to town affairs. Plus, working closely together had its perks. First off, he could make sure she didn’t get into trouble. Secondly, maybe he would finally get the opportunity to find out if she was interested in him as more than a friend.

  A smile flitted briefly across his face before Nate turned serious. “I want you to stay out of trouble and keep me in the loop,” he said, picking a frosted donut out of the box. “You want in on this, you have to be up front with me and you have to promise that you won’t do anything Chloe-like. You share with me; I’ll share with you. Let’s just get these murders solved so I can finish cleaning this hell-hole office and things can get back to normal. Or as normal as things ever are here in Brigadoon.”

  Chloe took a sip of her coffee and considered as she chose her own donut. “I can agree to that. At this point, we’re trying to figure out who Evan was hooking up with, and whether or not the blackmail had anything to do with either his or Luther’s death. I really thought it was Talia he had his sights on, but now that Evan’s dead, it doesn’t make sense.” Possibilities began to swirl around in her head once more, but Nate cut her off.

  “It wasn’t Talia or Evan who killed Luther. I’m sure of it. He had an alibi, and I could tell from Talia’s reaction that it wasn’t her. I can’t be positive she and Evan weren’t having a relationship, but I can tell you she didn’t kill her husband.”

  Nate looked concerned as he chased a bite of donut with a drink of coffee. “We also haven’t found any other evidence that Luther was being blackmailed; we only found notes addressed to Evan. I haven’t been able to pinpoint a solid motive for killing Luther. Maybe this is it.”

  His tone was hopeful, not frustrated as Chloe had expected it to be, considering he was being clued in on an important piece of evidence that he hadn’t been able to ferret out himself. But ultimately, Nate was a realist and a good detective. He considered any evidence welcome—regardless of the source—especially around the mid-point of a seemingly dead-end investigation.

  “We can’t rule out the possibility that he did receive other threatening letters. This one certainly makes it sound like the extortion was ongoing. Maybe he hid them somewhere,” Chloe suggested, popping the rest of her donut in her mouth.

  She wiped the sticky off her hands, then handed Nate the blackmail note addressed to Luther. Within minutes, he was duplicating the entire Plunkett file page by page on an old dinosaur photocopier his office had inherited when the municipal office purchased a newer model. Placing the lot in a shiny new brown folder Chloe, vowed to text EV as soon as she left the office.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  EV’s small dining room looked like a cop’s office. There were crime scene photos plastered to the walls, and files spread out over the table. A white board was stationed at one end of the room, covered in various notes and speculations; the only thing missing was tack-covered map criss-crossed with string to indicate the killer’s movements.

  Both EV and Chloe were poised over copies of the blackmail notes found in Evan’s and Luther’s belongings. It certainly looked as though someone, tired of their subterfuge, had decided to cash in on whatever misdeeds the men had thought were long buried. Intending to study every detail of the police file in an attempt to fill in the blanks, they were meticulously re-reading the notes for at least the twentieth time. In all the passing back and forth, the documents had gotten shuffled out of order.

  “Let’s lay them out in order, and separate everything according to whether it corresponds with Luther or Evan,” EV suggested. Another five minutes of staring, and a look of understanding crossed her face.

  “Do you see what I see?” EV asked Chloe with a raise of her brow.

  “There’s something off. What is it?”

  “It’s the handwriting. The wording is similar, but look at the way the A’s are off-center with a diagonal slash in Luther’s notes.”

  “The S’s are different too; there’s more flourish on the Evan notes. What do you think this means? A blackmailer with some type of alternate personality disorder? Two different blackmailers, with one forging the notes from the other? Or, only one blackmailer, trying to make it look like two?” Chloe sighed and followed the logical conclusion. “And then, if only one brother was actually being blackmailed, which one was it?”

  Noticing that both coffee cups were empty, the two migrated into the kitchen for a refill. Chloe hopped up to sit on her favorite corner of EV’s countertop.

  “There’s a solid argument for either of them being the actual target. Evan’s life was filled with nothing but dark corners, but Luther swindled a lot of people out of money. It’s possible someone wanted to get back what was rightfully theirs. Plus, they were both in on the proposal to the town board, even if Luther was the one to broach the subject.”

  “We can’t rule out the fact that Luther may have received more notes. And I think it’s a safe bet to say that whoever wrote the fake notes has to be the killer. Which means at least one of the deaths isn’t about the blackmail at all; it’s about something else. But what else connects them besides their asinine plan to merge with Gilmore, and the fact that they’re brothers?”

  “Well, we’ve already ruled out anything to do with Talia. Because she wouldn’t kill Luther so she could be with Evan, and then turn around and kill him, too. That’s just stupid.” EV nodded her agreement.

  “But I saw her with Evan; that scarf has to be the only one of its kind in Ponderosa Pines. Unless I misread the situation.” Chloe stared into space, recalling the moment she laid eyes on Evan and the mystery woman. “Even Nate will tell you that conversation they were having at Mama Nancy’s was intimate. Not a brotherly bit of condolence, either. They were giving off the we’re getting ready to do it vibe.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “We’re missing something.” EV began pacing the floor, walking all the way around the kitchen island, turning on her heel, then walking back the other way. “Unless Evan killed Luther, and Talia killed Evan out of revenge, all of this adds up to a dead end.”

  “
Do you think we should confront Talia?” Chloe asked, adding cream to her coffee. “See if we can pry something out of her about her relationship with Evan? If they were doing the nasty, she might be the key to everything. Plus, she’s always so fidgety. It makes me suspicious.”

  “I don’t know. Talia’s always been that way; she has a lot of nervous energy. What’s more, if we confront her, it will tip our hand. Give it a day or so. Something will come through the grapevine—it always does. What about your digital gossip channel? Any gems of info we can mine?”

  “It’s been suspiciously quiet with the bits and bytes lately.”

  “I’ve had fewer sources myself since I landed on the hot seat as suspect number one.” Bitterness crept into her tone. “I’m learning a lot about my true friends. Like which ones have been tearing me down behind closed doors because they think I won’t find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Somewhere in the background, Chloe could hear a bell ringing. She bolted upright and searched all around through half-closed lids, trying to figure out what was making the blasted noise, while simultaneously blocking the sun from boring a hole through her eye sockets. She tried swiping across her cell phone screen, then moved on to the digital alarm clock resting on her night stand.

  After pressing each button several times, she resorted to yanking the cord out of the wall socket with a violent jerk. When the shrieking ended, Chloe fell back onto her pillow and heaved a sigh. Her plan to get up early and bang out this week’s column had seemed like a good idea when she set the alarm last night. If it hadn’t been for the fact that her best friend’s name was being dragged through the mud, she would have happily snuggled in for a few more hours’ sleep.

  The scent of fresh coffee curled around her and pulled the corners of her mouth up into a smile. Chloe gave herself an imaginary pat on the back for having the foresight to set the timer along with her alarm clock the night before. A few moments later, she settled herself onto a kitchen bar stool with a steaming cup of dark roast and a bowl of Greek yogurt topped with honey.