“No, I’ll hold on to it for a while. I’m chilled to the bone.” She placed her Chanel tote bag on her lap and began rummaging through it, then put the bag on the floor next to her chair.
“I better go upstairs and shut the cat’s playroom or else they’ll come back down here. I know you’re not a cat person, but cats instinctively gravitate to the person who either doesn’t like cats, or is afraid of them. It’s their nature.”
“Whatever,” Madison said dismissively.
Katherine left the room and thought how strange it was that a friend she hadn’t seen since high school graduation was now in Indiana, sitting in her parlor. Before shutting the cats’ door, she did a head count. Two were missing.
“Oh, great,” she lamented. “I hope they’re not in the room freaking out Madison.” Hurrying back downstairs, she found her friend madly texting someone. Katherine waited until she was finished, then said, “You look great. We need to do a major catch-up. Are you still modeling?”
“I was, but I’m twenty-eight now, and there are younger models out there taking the jobs. That’s one of the reasons why I’m headed for Chicago. I have a gig there, and then I’m flying back to NYC.”
“Colleen said that you were temping.”
“Yes, believe it or not,” Madison laughed. “Can you imagine? I regret not going to business school after I graduated. I wish I had better computer skills. I’ve been doing reception jobs.”
“Really?” Katherine asked. “In Brooklyn or Manhattan?”
“Mid-town Manhattan. Sometimes the job lasts six weeks, if I’m lucky, or a few days. Lately, I’ve been working on 47th Street.”
“That’s not far from where I used to work on Fifth Avenue.”
“Cool, but I don’t want to bore you with me. Colleen’s mom said you inherited big bucks, and a mansion. Plus, you married a hunk.”
“Are you married? Engaged? Dating?” Katherine inquired in an effort to divert the mention of inheritance.
“None of the above. Single and free, that’s me.”
“So, if your modeling job is in Chicago, how did you end up at my door in a snow storm?”
Madison shifted nervously in her seat, then began. “Because of this wretched weather, my plane was rerouted to Indianapolis. I didn’t have a clue when the next flight would be. You know me. I hate to wait, so I rented that piece of junk out there, and drove. Thank God for GPS or I’d never have found this place.”
“You brought your GPS,” Katherine asked in want of something better to say.
“No, Dummy, it’s built into the car.”
“Yes, I know, I have one in my new Subaru,” Katherine said, not liking being called dummy as an adult. It was funny at age ten, but not so much now.
“A Subaru? Why aren’t you driving a Mercedes or a Bentley?”
Katherine answered with an observation, in an attempt to once again steer the conversation away from material things. “Your blond hair looks nice with your blue eyes.”
Madison laughed. “I’ve been a blonde for years.”
“I’m trying to remember the last time I saw you. Was it our high school —”
“Graduation,” Madison finished. “Remember when I walked up to get my diploma, and my sleeve caught on the hand rail. I tripped going up the steps and fell into the arms of the principal.”
Katherine laughed at the memory. “That’s not as bad as me tripping down the steps.”
Madison looked at her watch. “How far is Chicago from here?”
“It’s about a two-hour drive, but in this weather, it will take you longer. Jake is in Chicago this weekend. He drove up yesterday.”
“Who’s Jake? Is that your husband?”
“Yes, Jake Cokenberger.”
Madison brought her hand up to stifle a laugh. “Coke and burger. Hee hee! That’s funny,” she said sarcastically.
“Cokenberger,” Katherine said, enunciating each syllable. She was taken aback by her old friend’s abruptness.
“What’s he doing in Chicago?” Madison asked.
“He’s delivering a paper — ”
“You married a truck driver? I guess it doesn’t really matter these days. When you’re a millionaire you can marry just about anybody.”
“Jake doesn’t deliver paper. He’s a history professor.” Normally, Katherine would have gone into more detail about what Jake did for a living because she was very proud of him, but Madison’s condescending manner put her off. She cautiously continued. “Besides, Madison, what’s wrong with being a truck driver? They help put food on the table.”
“Is he a redneck?” Madison asked, getting up and walking over to the parlor window. She moved the lace panel and looked out. “Dumb as a rock, but good in bed?”
Katherine’s face reddened. “Madison, really? My husband is not a redneck. People in this part of the globe do not take kindly to being called a redneck.”
“Oh, don’t get all fired up. That’s something I specifically remember about you. You overreact at everything!” She said the last word with exaggerated emphasis.
Katherine struggled not to reach over and pinch her friend, like she used to when they were in elementary school. Back in the day, when they wore matching plaid skirts with crisp white blouses, their moms ironed laboriously. Calming herself, she broached another topic. “I’m surprised you wear fur.”
“Why?” Madison asked defensively.
“Because I distinctly remember you didn’t approve of people who did.”
“That’s when I was poor. Now it’s a different story.”
“You were never poor.”
“Yes, I was. Have you forgotten? You came from a poor home, too.”
“No, I didn’t. My parents did okay.”
“Well, whatever,” Madison said with a wave of her well-manicured hand. “Judging from what Colleen’s mom said, you’re living the life of Riley.”
Katherine became quiet, and wondered how she could get rid of this woman who seemed to have been invaded by a body snatcher. She couldn’t believe this was her sweet little friend from next door, who spent hours at her house, cutting out paper dolls, or just sitting on the townhouse stoop watching people walk by. I wonder what happened in Madison’s life to make her so cynical, Katherine wondered.
Still looking out the window, Madison asked, “Who do you know that drives a pickup truck?”
“In this town, practically everyone drives one.”
“Ooh, la la! A tall, handsome man just got out. Katz, he’s walking up the front walk.”
Katherine rose from her chair, and wondered who it was. She moved to open the door before the man sounded the dreaded doorbell. “Stevie?” she asked, surprised.
“Ma’am,” Stevie said, brushing the snow off his knit hat. “Is Jake around? I’d like to have a word with the two of you.”
“Please, come in. How are you? How’s your hand?” Last September, Stevie, trying to save her life and Scout’s, took a bullet in the palm of his left hand; another bullet hit his right shoulder.
“Hand is good. How have you been, good lookin’?”
Katherine stepped back a few feet for a better comfort zone. Stevie’s compliments always made her uncomfortable. “Jake’s in Chicago.”
Stevie caught Katherine’s eyes. “Not proper for me to come inside, when the mister ain’t home. What would those liars down at the diner make of it?” Stevie turned and started to open the door.
“Stevie, I’m not alone. An old friend is here. Would you like to come in for a minute? I have a warm fire blazing in the parlor.”
“And where’s that? You gotta remember, I ain’t never been inside your house before.”
“‘Haven’t been,’ Stevie,” Katherine corrected. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m making it my New Year’s resolution to help you improve your grammar, one word at a time.”
Stevie smiled. “Haven’t,” he said, winking.
“I can hang up your jacket.”
“No need.” St
evie took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the Eastlake chair by the boot mat. Underneath,he wore a short-sleeved black T-shirt. He stomped his boots on the rug, but didn’t offer to remove them.
“This way,” Katherine directed.
Madison had taken her seat, and eyed the newcomer with sultry eyes. She did a quick up-and-down sweep of Stevie, and said, “Katz, who’s this blond, handsome specimen of a man?”
Stevie gave her a cold, hard look.
“This is my friend, Stevie Sanders. Stevie saved my life a few months back.”
“I can’t think of anyone else who I’d much rather save mine,” she said, then added to Stevie, “Excuse me for saying, but have you ever thought about modeling? I have connections in Manhattan.”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Stevie, this is Madison,” Katherine finally introduced. “She’s a model in New York City.”
Madison continued her appraisal of Stevie. “You’ve got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Stevie answered evasively, “Ma’am, there’s somethin’ you need to know about me. I like my cars fast, and my women not to go over the speed limit.”
Madison threw her head back and laughed. “Hee hee! I love a man with a sense of humor.”
Annoyed, Stevie said to Katherine, “Is there someplace where I can talk to you — alone?”
“Sure,” Katherine said, “Follow me to the living room. I’ll be back in a minute, Madison.”
“Okay, Dummy.”
Katherine frowned. She slid open the pocket door. “Stevie, you can sit anywhere.”
“I’m okay. I’ve been ridin’ in the truck for hours. It’ll do me good to stand.” Observing the chocolates on the floor, Stevie kidded, “Have a fight with your valentine?”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “No, but my cat did.”
Madison called after them, “Don’t leave on my account. Oh, I love the tattoos on your arms. Before you leave, I’d like to see them close-up.”
Katherine said under her breath, “What is wrong with her?” No sooner had she said that when someone barged through the front door without knocking or ringing the doorbell. A man’s voice began shouting at Madison, who was now standing in the atrium, hanging up her fur coat.
Stevie raised his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. He shook his head, then walked over to Katherine. He gently took her by the arm. He pushed her back into the far living room corner, as if to shield her from the two people on the other side of the door.
Madison barked, “I told you to wait in the car. I was just about to ask her, when you rush in here like a bull in a china shop.”
The man said firmly. “We can’t stay here tonight. We need to go. Now! I think they’ve found us.”
“No way. How?”
“How?” he asked in amazement. “What’s-a-matta-with-you? You told me you freakin’ bought our airline tickets with your boss’s credit card; you made the reservations from your company’s email. What idiot does that from where they work? Why didn’t you just print them a freakin’ itinerary?”
“Whatever,” she dismissed. “You’re overreacting. Our flight was rerouted, and we drove here. How would they know about this place?”
“No time for your bullcrap.”
“Fine, I’ll get my purse.” She stomped into the parlor, and panicked. “Oh, no! No! No! Where’s my purse?”
“Calm down. Where’d you put it?”
“Right by my chair,” she pointed.
“Well, it’s not there now. Did it sprout legs and walk somewhere?” he asked, looking around. “There it is, by that ugly coat rack.”
Madison rushed over, stooped down, and picked up her tote bag. A startled Siamese flew out from behind the Eastlake hall tree and ran full-speed up the stairs. “That damn mangy cat must have dragged it over here.”
“Hurry up!” he demanded.
“Give me time to put on my coat,” she said, pulling her coat off the hall tree’s hook. “I’ve got to tell Katz I’m leaving.”
“There isn’t time. I’ll meet you at the car.” The man left, impatiently slamming the door behind him.
Katherine tried to walk past Stevie, but he held her fast. “Stevie, let go of me. I want to get Madison out of my house.”
The front door slammed again.
Stevie released his grip. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
Katherine ran to the sidelight and gently lifted a corner of the lace curtain. A four-door black sedan, with the passenger side window down, pulled up to the sidewalk. Inside the vehicle, a man began firing an automatic pistol; it riddled the rental car with a barrage of bullets. When the shooter saw the man running down the sidewalk, he shot him several times.
Madison hid behind one of the porch wicker chairs, and didn’t move until the vehicle sped off. The wounded man staggered and collapsed by the car, in the drainage ditch at the edge of the street.
Katherine tried to open the door, but Stevie stopped her. “They ain’t done yet. Call 911.”
Madison hurtled off the porch, slid on a patch of ice, righted herself, and skidded past the motionless man. She didn’t stop to check on him, to see if he were dead or alive. Instead, she headed for the driver’s side of the Dodge Ram truck.
“Stevie, she’s trying to get into your truck,” Katherine said in a frightened voice.
“No, freakin’ way. My daughter’s in there.”
Chapter Ten
Jake retrieved his Jeep Wrangler from a Chicago underground parking garage and drove to the entrance of a four star hotel. His friend from the university, Professor Wayne Watson, paced out front, rubbing his hands together in both anxiety, and an effort to keep warm.
Several years earlier, Wayne used his metal detector to find a stash of gold coins worth millions, buried near the grave of Amanda Colfax — daughter of Katherine’s great-uncle William. Wayne was tall and a dead ringer for Buddy Holly, complete with thick, black-framed glasses. The only difference was the glasses were broken in the middle, and Wayne, being a frugal soul, had taped them with electrical tape.
Jake stopped and put the Jeep in neutral.
Wayne climbed in, clutching his laptop, which he placed on the floorboard.
“Where’s your luggage?” Jake asked.
“I left it with Charlie.” Charlie was another professor from the university attending the same conference.
“Okay, let’s go. I’ve gotta warn ya, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. The weather reports aren’t good. We could get the storm of the century, but not to worry, my friend. My ol’ Jeep and I have been there, done that,” Jake laughed unconvincingly.
Wayne caught the apprehension in Jake’s voice. “I’m so grateful you are taking me back early. Leslie went into labor two hours ago, and I promised I’d be there for our first baby.” Before Jake and Katherine got married, Wayne had married his girlfriend, Leslie. Leslie was an administrative assistant for the university vice president and had been one of Katherine’s first students in her computer training course.
Jake eased out of the hotel’s circular drive onto an empty side street. He glanced around and observed, “Hardly any cars on the road. It looks like we’ve got the highway to ourselves.”
“Yeah, fewer cars to slide into us and force us off the road.”
“Streets aren’t bad. The city has been keeping them clear. I’m just worried about US 41.”
“Driving here, well, actually riding here — Charlie drove his Land Cruiser — it looked like the state plows were keeping up with the snow.”
“Wait until we get around Kentland, then we’ll see how the plows are doing.”
“The land is flat as a pancake, and when the wind kicks up, those windmills will be a flyin’.”
Jake pulled onto Lake Shore Drive. “Wayne, can you do me a favor? Can you text Katz and let her know we’re on our way?”
“Sure,” Wayne said, retrieving his cell phone from his second shirt pocket. The other one held his assortment of pens and a Hewlett Packard calcul
ator, which he never left home without. “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell her that we left the hotel, that we’re coming home, and that I should be in Erie by — ”
“Let’s factor in your taking me to the hospital. That adds another two hours round trip.”
“So, tell her I’ll be home around ten.”
“Excuse me for asking, but what happened to your cell phone?”
Jake belted out a loud laugh. “One of our cats decided to play hockey with it. Since I’ve been in Chicago, I’ve been talking to Katz on the landline in my hotel room.”
“Hockey? That’s a first.”
“Probably Abra. The first time I saw her was at a magician’s show, here in Chicago. She fetched a cell phone from someone in the audience. It was a funny ab lib, but the magician didn’t think so. That’s how Katz and I ended up with her.”
“I’m glad you did. You two are the best fur parents around,” Wayne laughed. “That what’s Leslie calls you — fur parents.”
Jake chuckled, then became serious. “Last time I called Katz was last night around six. She said she was sitting by the fire with the cats. She said it was so peaceful watching the snow fall.”
“I can imagine a Norman Rockwell scene. Are you glad you’re back in the pink house?”
“Yes, I’ve got plans for a new office in the attic. It’s so cold in the house though. I’ve got to consult with an HVAC expert to see if we can improve the heat. Katz is always complaining about being cold.”
Wayne sent the text. A not delivered message popped up on the screen. “For real? We’re in Chicago, for crying out loud. There should be great reception here.”
“You sure you punched in the right number?”
“Yeah, I hit it from my contacts list. Let me try again.” Wayne resent the message. The message returned undelivered. “Sorry.”
“Oh, she’s asleep now anyway. If I know Katz, she has her cell close by. I don’t want to wake her. I’ll just try and call her when we get closer to Erie.”
With three xylophone notes, the weather app on Wayne’s phone displayed a weather advisory message. “Bad news, my friend. We’re expected to get a foot of snow — maybe more.”
The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 7