Cat Killed A Rat

by ReGina Welling

  “I’ll address the envelopes.” Chloe volunteered, having seen plenty of EV’s lousy penmanship.

  “Talia,” EV spoke in a soothing voice, “under the circumstances, I think everyone will understand if you combine your notes for Luther and Evan.” Within a few minutes, they had a working system. EV opened the cards, then handed the envelopes off to Chloe to copy the address. Talia penned a sentence or two of thanks before both card and envelope circled back to EV, who stuffed and stamped them. In this manner, they moved along fairly quickly.

  While they worked, Chloe started up a conversation with Talia.

  “Was there anyone special in Evan’s life?”

  “I don’t think so. He never talked to me about his lady friends, and I never liked to ask. Evan was a private man. He wasn’t interested in settling down.” There was none of the regret in her voice that might come from having been spurned, which put the final death knell to the theory she had ever been the object of Evan’s affection.

  They were nearing the end of the pile when EV frowned. There was something about the handwriting on this card that reminded her of something she had seen recently.

  Then it hit her.

  She had seen that S before.

  Trying not to give away anything with her facial expression, EV read out the card, then when she handed it to Chloe, delivered a swift but gentle kick to the ankle along with it. EV ignored Chloe’s dirty look and used exaggerated eye and head movements to get Chloe to look at the handwriting without alerting Talia that anything was wrong.

  As Chloe realized what she was looking at, her mouth dropped open, and they both noted the signature on the card. Unless there were two people with that distinctive style, the person who signed this card was the one who had been threatening Luther.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Why do I let that crazy old bat talk me into these things? Was the main question on Chloe’s mind as two rambunctious kittens zig-zagged across the floor of her formerly pristine living room. At EV’s suggestion—and she used the term loosely—the kittens had been packed up and delivered to her door early this morning. After being released from the prison of their shiny new cat carrier, Sugar and Spice made a beeline for the fireplace mantle, where they systematically knocked over several items of kitsch belonging to Chloe’s mother.

  By way of a semi-acrobatic back bend, Chloe managed to catch all but a tiny cat figurine, which she had never really cared for anyway. A cat for two kittens seemed like a good trade off, and as she swept the pieces into the dustbin, Chloe began looking around the room for other items that might need to be moved to accommodate her new pets. Spice was currently guarding a spot in the center of the mantle, while keeping an eye on his sister, who was alternately sniffing and rubbing against a nubby chenille throw draped across the back of an oversized armchair.

  Hearing some noise undetectable to Chloe, four ears perked and both kittens raced through the open porch door and launched themselves onto a window screen, legs splayed in all directions. Gently detaching their claws, Chloe admonished them ruefully.

  “No, no, these are not climbing posts. You stay down.” They both looked at her, cocked their heads to one side and marched back to the living room. “Good kitties,” Chloe murmured, hoping without much confidence that they would continue to listen this well. She had a feeling she’d need to do more baby-proofing than if she had an actual baby.

  The vast array of kitten paraphernalia littering Chloe’s floor was similar to the amount of unnecessary accessories often purchased by new mothers. Several catnip-filled mice were already strewn around the living room, a scratching post that would most likely be discarded in favor of an arm of the couch was propped up near the fireplace, and a plastic stick with feathers attached poked out from beneath an end table. Several varieties of cat food, new bowls, and a self-cleaning kitty litter setup were already at home in Chloe’s kitchen and bathroom. As EV had predicted, the two former orphans would certainly be well taken care of.

  Chloe gathered her tablet and snuggled into her favorite porch chair to sort through the notes she and EV had made regarding Evan’s and Luther’s murders. Sugar and Spice nestled themselves in the crevices between her thighs and the arms of the chair, one on each side, and fell asleep purring. Now it was time to get down to brass tacks.

  She began compiling a list of evidence for and against their two prime suspects, Lottie and Ashton Worth. Lottie had several marks against her, after frequently and publicly declaring her dislike for both Evan and Luther.

  The way Chloe saw it, Lottie could be guilty of the murders, but not the blackmail. It would explain why she’d been acting so strangely around Talia lately, and why she had gone mysteriously quiet regarding the whole business. It wasn’t like Lottie to keep her mouth shut, so she must have a good reason for doing so.

  The only thing that didn’t gel was why she would have told Chloe and EV about Evan being blackmailed in the first place. Come to think of it, neither method of murder screamed Lottie; Chloe had a feeling she’d choose something more eloquent than a push off a ladder or a bashed-in skull. Then again, if the murders weren’t planned, it could have been a crime of passion or opportunity, and the killer would have used any means necessary.

  With Ashton, it was the other way around. His name now had two marks against it: he was undoubtedly the person who wrote the threatening note to Luther; his handwriting on the condolence card was a slam dunk. And, he was seen at the scene of the crime, very close to the time of Luther’s death. But what could possibly be his motive for either murder, or for his newfound hatred of EV?

  Ashton writing the blackmail letter to Luther seemed to clinch the idea that he had also killed him; if Lottie also knew Ashton wrote the notes she may have used that as more ammo to frame him. Each theory seemed to circle back to the other suspect. Frustrated, she put her tablet away and moved to get up. Tiny claws dug through her shorts and into her skin; apparently her furry friends weren’t ready to end their snuggle session. Luckily, a merciful and well-timed knock on the door was too much for them to ignore, so Chloe got her way and rose from the chair.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Spice leapt into the air, his lithe body twisting and turning as he pounced on a crumpled piece of paper. He snatched it up in his mouth and leapt again, a shake of his head sending the toy into EV’s lap. She picked it up with the idea of tossing it back to him, when she realized it was a receipt from Thread. Priscilla used bright purple ink in her register, making the receipts easy to distinguish at a glance.

  With an arch look at Chloe, she started to unfold it, then had to dodge to the right as Chloe tried to grab it away from her. After a brief but fierce tussle, EV got to sneak a peek.

  “Yarn?”

  “It’s not for me. I was buying it for a friend.” If her words had not been accompanied by a guilty look, EV might have bought it, but outside of not confessing her role as town gossip columnist, Chloe was a lousy liar. She only held out a minute before confessing, “Fine. I thought I’d learn how to knit. Everyone says it’s relaxing.”

  “Not the way I do it,” EV grumbled. “You might as well come to knitting group with me and let Priscilla show you the basics.” She glanced at her phone to see the time. “It starts in half an hour.”

  “I can just watch a YouTube video.”

  “And will a YouTube video tell you if you’re using too much tension when you wrap the yarn?”

  “No,” Chloe groaned.

  “You’ll come with me and learn properly. Consider it your punishment for keeping secrets.”

  “Knitting group is a punishment? Why? What goes on there? Some kind of old lady confessional where you all talk about support hose and why things aren’t like they were in the good old days, I’ll bet.”

  “You’re going, Miss Recluse.”

  “Fine, I’ll go.” At this point, there was little other choice. EV was like a dog with a bone when she used that tone of voice. Besides, Chloe couldn’t deny th
e term struck a nerve; she had promised herself that she would be more outgoing, but so far had not made good.

  As much as she told herself she belonged in Ponderosa Pines—and even though she was accepted almost without question—Chloe still couldn’t see herself as a true member of the community, as actually having found the place where she belonged. With an evil glance back at EV, she added, “But I’m driving.”

  Now it was EV’s turn to groan. ”We can walk.”

  “It’s raining.”

  “Not that hard.” Rain pelted the window.

  “Hard enough.” EV had to go back to her place for her knitting bag, then gave in and settled into place in the passenger seat. She had barely gotten her seat belt locked when Chloe threw the car into gear and rocketed down the drive.

  They made the trip in silence, mostly because EV didn’t trust herself to both talk and keep an eye out for imminent death. The first face they saw as they stepped through the door was Lottie’s.

  “One of us should try to talk to her. See if we can get her to reconcile with Talia.” EV kept her voice low enough that only Chloe could hear.

  “Not it.” Chloe’s declaration was met with a pair of eloquently raised eyebrows.

  “Not it? Really? How mature.”

  “You dragged me here, you can talk to dragon lady.” Chloe chose a seat near Priscilla.

  There were plenty to spare, since besides Lottie and Allegra, only two other knitters had braved the rain. EV settled onto the sofa and pulled out her knitting bag.

  Clearly, the textile genius had not been passed down from mother to daughter, because the mess that stretched between EV’s two needles resembled nothing like the dishcloth it was supposed to be.

  A simple square in heavy cotton shouldn’t be that hard to produce, but it was beyond EV’s capabilities to create anything better than a misshapen tangle of knots that only loosely qualified as knitting.

  As expected, though, after a short demonstration, Chloe was producing lovely, even rows at a speed that rivaled Priscilla’s. EV shot her the stink eye while Chloe returned a smirk.

  “Lottie, how are you and Talia getting along?” Looking down at her work while trying to untangle the yarn that had somehow tied itself around her finger, EV missed seeing the anguished look that washed over Lottie’s face. Chloe caught it along with the trembling of Lottie’s bottom lip. The woman was close to tears. Had Lofty Lottie finally been taken down by her formally mousy sister? It looked like it.

  “She won’t speak to me. I’ve tried to apologize, but she won’t listen. She won’t even look at me.” Lottie’s voice held genuine regret as she slumped down in her seat, defeated.

  “Give her some time,” Allegra advised. “Talia’s had a lot to handle these past few weeks, and frankly, you didn’t do much to help.” Her tone was gentle but the rebuke was clear.

  “I know,” Lottie replied, miserable. “I want to make it up to her, but she won’t let me.”

  Allegra shrugged. Given her performance at both Luther and Evan’s funerals, everyone knew Lottie had a long way to go before Talia would even consider forgiveness.

  While Chloe focused on Lottie, EV gave up all pretense of knitting to study Allegra’s face and posture. At the last knitting group, she had been completely scattered and inattentive; today, she appeared more calm but there was also sadness underneath the façade, and EV could see tension. It was there in the set of her mouth; the pinched look around her eyes—yet, her needles clicked together in perfect rhythm while her hands moved smoothly through the motions of knitting.

  “Maybe if you had been more considerate of her feelings, she wouldn’t be shutting you out this way. She lost her husband, and for a few days, it looked like he might have died by his own brother’s hand. Then Evan died, and the police don’t have any idea who killed either of them. I’ve been a nervous wreck for days.” Allegra didn’t notice her slip of the tongue, but EV and Chloe both picked up on it right away.

  A look passed between them, but with a barely perceptible shake of her head, EV communicated to Chloe that now was not the time to pursue that line of questioning.

  “What’s worse is that someone started a rumor that she was having an affair with Evan.” Allegra’s eyes sparked as though she had a personal stake in the situation.

  “That’s ridiculous. I know for a fact she was not the one Evan was sleeping with,” Lottie tossed her head, and though the accusation in her tone was not directed at anyone in particular, it was clear someone in the room was meant to feel the sting of her barb.

  “It’s almost as ludicrous as thinking EV killed him, but we all know how that rumor got tossed around so much.” Priscilla glanced at Allegra, whose face reddened.

  Allegra opened her mouth, presumably to defend her husband, then closed it again.

  “Well, I hope people don’t put too much credence in the word of a man who goes out catting around.”

  On hearing the remark, both Chloe and EV’s hands stilled, and a look passed between them. Lottie had no idea that her chance remark would be caught by the two people in town who had already heard her use nearly the same phrase and inflection before. There was no doubt, Lottie was the tipster.

  Could she be both the tipster and the murderer?

  Seated next to her, Chloe noticed Allegra’s hands were shaking, and a sideways glance at her face proved that she had turned pale. EV noticed the same thing, watching with interest as Allegra dropped one stitch, then another.

  For several minutes, there was no other sound, save for the clacking of needles.

  Just as Chloe cleared her throat to say something—anything—that might reduce the tension, Allegra abruptly thrust her knitting back into her bag and announced with fake brightness, “Ladies, I believe I’ll just nip out a little early this week.”

  Her remark was met with only half-hearted protest.

  As Allegra made ready to leave, she pulled a colorful scarf from her bag and, turning away from the group, began to wrap it over her hair. Behind her, Chloe’s face took on an astonished expression—mouth dropping to her chin; eyebrows shooting up nearly to her hairline. She waved a hand to get EV’s attention.

  “Scarf!” she mouthed and pointed.

  That was the moment everything fell into place.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Steam rolled off the sidewalk under the shimmering rays of the sun where it peeked through the lightening-cloud cover. The Mudbucket’s eaves dripped and dribbled their watery burden onto the pavement below. The water ran and puddled as Chloe and EV hurried in to snag EV’s favorite table; the one near the kitchen door.

  This was a conversation too distracting to have while driving.

  “Evan and Allegra?” EV kept her voice low. “She’s the cougar Lottie was talking about. Can’t say I was expecting that.”

  “I know, right? We know Ashton wrote the note to Luther, and he was at the church, and he had a motive for killing Evan.” Chloe ticked each point off on her fingers. “He’s the one, you know he did it.”

  “It all fits.”

  “Filthy bastard tried to implicate you. That’s why he started all those rumors.”

  “There’s one thing I still can’t wrap my head around, though. What was the motive for killing Luther? Lottie had more reason to want him dead than Ashton.”

  “You think they were in it together? Maybe Lottie killed Luther and Ashton wasted Evan?”

  “No,” EV mused, “If she was in on it, the last thing she would do is call the tip line. She defended me whenever she heard someone repeating stupid gossip. It had to be Ashton all the way.”

  “What if Luther knew and threatened to go public with the affair? Ashton might have killed him to save face.” Chloe dumped extra sugar into her coffee.

  “I guess, but it still seems off to me. The real question is: what do we do now?”

  Chloe tapped her fingers on the table. The smart thing to do would be to call Nate and lay it out for him, but she wanted one more
chance to settle it all in her mind.

  “We don’t have to decide now. Let’s go back to your place, look at the time lines, and see if everything fits before we go accusing someone with no hard evidence.”

  After the tingle that had run through her, EV knew they were on the right track, but it never hurt to be thorough. She reached for her knitting bag but came up empty-handed.

  “I think I left my bag at Thread. I’ll just grab it and then we can go.”

  Ashton stepped out from where he had been standing in the hallway that led to the kitchen and restrooms. The shadowy corner made a perfect cover as he exited the men’s room and heard his name mentioned. Now, his face an unreadable mask, he walked out of the Mudbucket and right past his wife, who stood in the recessed doorway of New Sage, a shopping bag in each hand.

  Allegra watched, dumbfounded, as her husband cast a furtive glance toward Thread, hurried to their car, pulled a gun out of the glove box, and drove away toward the side of town where EV lived.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  When EV and Chloe walked out of Thread, then drove away in the same direction, she was sure of it.

  Where had Ashton gotten that gun? For that matter, when had Ashton gotten that gun?

  Allegra dropped both shopping bags before fumbling in her purse for her cell phone. She placed a hurried call to Nate to warn him that he needed to get to EV’s, and fast. It was a gamble whether the others were headed there, but there was little time to waste on indecision so she went with intuition.

  Since Ashton had taken the car and she had stood there like an idiot while Chloe drove away, Allegra needed another way to get to EV’s place, but there was no other vehicle in sight. Just her luck.

  Where were all the nosy neighbors when she really needed one?