The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery

by Leann Sweeney

  “Don’t know nothin’. You should ask the creepers. Maybe they know,” Jeannie said.

  The creepers. I’d thought Jeannie, because she’d lived alone for so many years, might have been having hallucinations, that these creepers were figments of her imagination. But what if they weren’t? Had someone been sneaking into the mill and looking for what Beatrice Stanley so desperately wanted?

  “Creepers?” Beatrice said. “What in heaven is the woman talking about? She is mentally ill.”

  Trying to explain to this woman anything about Jeannie’s experience for the last decade was futile. I said, “Did you ever enter the mill after it was closed up, Mrs. Stanley? Look for this money you say your husband hid from you? Because perhaps Jeannie heard you and—”

  She laughed derisively. “Are you implying I’m one of these creepers? How ridiculous. I wouldn’t think of breaking into the building, not like she did, even though it’s rightfully mine. Ask her again. She may act simple, but she knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

  I sighed. This was going nowhere. But I again turned to Jeannie. “Do you know anything at all about money or jewels? Know of any hiding places?”

  Still gazing at the table, her ghost cat close to her breast, she didn’t speak, just slowly shook her head no.

  I wanted to question Jeannie further about these creepers I’d thought were imaginary, but I wasn’t about to do so in front of this unsympathetic, hateful woman. I looked at Beatrice and said, “Who else knew your theory about hidden assets besides your son?”

  “My theory? You think I’m making this up?” she said.

  “I’m trying to help you.” My patience was spent. “Why would the money be inside the mill?”

  “Because Ward—my husband, not my son—practically lived in that mill. From what I heard, that one over there—” She waved a hand at Jeannie. “That one was living in my husband’s old office, not to mention hanging around a dead body. Now she’s lying about what she did to me. She ruined my life.”

  Jeannie lifted her head and emphatically said, “I don’t lie. Not never.”

  It was the first time they’d made eye contact and I thought I saw Beatrice shrink back a little. “You can’t make me believe that.” She stood and grabbed her coat. “When the truth comes out, when they start tearing up that mill, they’ll find evidence—a ring, a bracelet, a stack of hundred-dollar bills—and you’ll be put in jail because most of my fortune is probably gone now. You know you’ll end up in jail, don’t you?”

  Jeannie looked over at me, panic in her eyes. “Am I goin’ to jail?”

  “No, Jeannie, because you didn’t steal anything.” I stared up at Beatrice Stanley and I couldn’t keep the ice out of my tone when I said, “You know the way out.”

  Thirty-two

  Boots followed on Beatrice Stanley’s heels as she marched down the hallway as if to herd her out of the house.

  Big fat tears were streaming down Jeannie’s face; I pulled my chair close to hers and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “You won’t go to jail,” I said. “She’s just an angry person who likes to take it out on other people.”

  Jeannie wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I never took no money. Why did she say that?”

  “I guess because you were living in the mill and she thinks someone hid her money there. It’s her way of asking if you know anything.” And she could be right about there being money hidden there, I thought to myself. “Tell me more about these creepers. Did you ever see them?”

  “Nope,” Jeannie said, shaking her head. “But they was pulling up boards and one time they came into the office while I was out gettin’ food.”

  “How did you know if you weren’t there?” I said.

  “’Cause my stuff was all thrown around. And they pulled up the floorboards and then hammered ’em back down. But not the right way. They didn’t go near where my Kay Ellen lay, though.”

  “And how could you tell?” I said.

  “The hearth was dusty—hadn’t gotten to clean it that week yet. It was still dusty when I come back that night. I cleaned it then.” She swallowed and her eyes filled again. “It’s a holy place.”

  I was reminded again that telling her Kay Ellen had been moved would be a very difficult conversation. “You keep saying they when you talk about the creepers. There was more than one?”

  “Coulda been one. Still sounded like a shift change to me with all the noise they was makin’.”

  “Shift change?” I said.

  “Like when we left and the new workers came in to run the looms. They’d come stompin’ in.”

  “Ah. I get it,” I said. “You think you heard more than one set of boots on the floor?”

  “All I know is I’d hear the stompin’, the hammerin’. Scared me somethin’ fierce. I took to movin’ the desk to block my door sometimes.”

  These creepers must not have cared about Jeannie’s presence. All they cared about was searching the mill. I wouldn’t put it past Beatrice to have been in on it—or Beatrice and her son.

  My question was, how were they getting in? I’d have to tell Candace about all this and ask her if any of the loose bricks on other windows that Mike had mentioned could have been a way for these intruders to get inside. Because I believed Jeannie one hundred percent. She hadn’t been hallucinating at all.

  “Have you been walking much today?” I asked Jeannie. Bless her heart, the poor soul could use a nice peaceful walk in her old neighborhood.

  “They told me to walk. Guess I should.” She started to rise and I helped her to her feet.

  I pulled the walker over. She grabbed hold and straightened herself, taking the deliberate care she’d probably been taught at the hospital.

  “Why don’t we go outside? You could show me where you used to live,” I said.

  Her mouth cracked into a crooked smile. “Yes, and Boots would like that.” Then her face fell. “I ain’t got no coat.”

  She was wearing a blue tracksuit today, but she was right. It was chilly. I said, “Wear my jacket. I’ve got a sweater on underneath.”

  She shook her head. “No. I might get it dirty and you’d be mad.”

  “Nonsense. You need it more than I do,” I said.

  We took the path out the back door and when we hit the Y section where one walkway led to the church and the other to the street, we headed for the street. I walked slowly beside Jeannie, who, to my surprise, was hardly even limping. I texted the pastor that we were out for a walk and would be back shortly.

  The old neighborhood seemed deserted, the silence interrupted only by the songs of cardinals or the chatter of squirrels in the trees that lined the street.

  “Where did you live, Jeannie?” I asked.

  “Way over there. Kinda a long way to go,” she said.

  “Maybe we can see your house another day, then,” I said, not wanting to wear her out. “Why don’t we walk up and down this block?”

  “You can see the mill from down there.” She pointed straight ahead. “Boots is already halfway there.”

  She probably thought of the mill as her home—and it really had been for ten years. I said, “Want to go have a look?”

  She nodded. “Can’t let Bootsie get too far. Don’t want to lose her.”

  As we got closer, I saw that Boots had stopped. She was sitting on the sidewalk, staring at a small boy and girl playing in a front yard. The ghost cat looked at us and back at the children as if beckoning us.

  Jeannie picked up her pace. “Boots is wantin’ us to talk to them.”

  “What?” I said. “Those are just little kids, Jeannie. Maybe Boots wants to play with them.”

  “Nope.” Jeannie plowed ahead, her rolling walker bumping along the sidewalk.

  When we reached the house where the children were playing, an older woman came out of the front door immediately. She seemed to be in protection mode, but then she smiled broadly. “Why, if it ain’t Jeannie Sloan as I live and breathe
.”

  Jeannie looked at the ground, but she said, “Hey there, Deborah.”

  “What you doin’ with that walker?”

  “Busted my hip,” Jeannie said.

  Deborah walked down to greet us. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This here is Jillian. She helps me,” Jeannie said.

  “Nice to meet you, Jillian. I seen you over at the mill when all heck broke out.” Deborah looked to be about Jeannie’s age, her hair thin and graying. I wondered if these two women had once worked together.

  The two children, obviously curious, came running over and grabbed onto Deborah’s housedress. She only wore a thin sweater on top of her dress, but she didn’t seem bothered by the forty-degree chill.

  “What’s wrong with her, Granny?” the little boy said, pointing at Jeannie’s walker.

  “She hurt herself. Now you two go back to playin’ and let the grown folks talk,” Deborah said.

  The children complied and ran back down the driveway where two tricycles sat.

  “I heard tell you was livin’ in that mill. Is it true?” Deborah said.

  Jeannie looked up then. “Yup. Had to watch over Kay Ellen.”

  Deborah seemed confused. “Kay Ellen was there, too? I didn’t hear nothin’ about that.”

  I gave a little shake of my head, hoping to warn Deborah off this topic and she seemed to understand.

  She said, “I’m glad to see you, Jeannie. And we’ll all be happy when they fix up that old place we used to work in. Been an eyesore for years. And I’m tired of seein’ folks sneakin’ in and out of there.” She realized her mistake quickly and said, “Never saw you, though.”

  “You saw people sneaking into the mill?” I asked.

  But before Deborah could answer, Jeannie said, “Fix up the mill? What you talkin’ about?”

  I touched Jeannie’s arm. “It’s okay. It’s nothing.” I looked at Deborah. “Where did you see these people going in and out? Because Jeannie was telling me about trespassers, too.”

  “Maybe not people—just one person at a time is all I see. Probably a teenager. At the old kitchen entrance,” Deborah said. “Thought they had it all locked up, but kids these days? Where’s their parents, anyways?”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “You can see the kitchen entrance from here?”

  “I can when the moon’s full and there’s no clouds. My daughter’s husband made me a nice room in the attic. He’s good with his hands. I get a pretty view of the stars and the night sky through the little window.” Deborah smiled proudly.

  “You talkin’ about Charlene? She okay?” Jeannie said.

  Deborah nodded. “I watch her children while they work. I never did get to tell you how sorry I was about Kay Ellen goin’ missin’. Sad thing, that.”

  “She ain’t missin’. She’s in a holy place.” Jeannie tossed her head in the direction of the mill.

  Deborah tried to hide her skepticism, but it wasn’t lost on me. Just then, one of the children cried out and I saw the two of them were arguing over a tricycle.

  “There they go again,” Deborah said. “Got to settle this. Nice seein’ you, Jeannie.” She looked at me. “And nice meetin’ you.” She turned and walked up the driveway.

  Jeannie looked tired and a tiny bit sad as she watched the woman retreat.

  I said, “You’ve had enough exercise for today. Let’s go back.”

  As we returned to the pastorium, Jeannie mumbled, “Charlene’s okay. Charlene’s okay.”

  It was as if Jeannie had been worrying that other teenage girls had gone missing along with her own—that the world at some point simply took your loved ones away. Yes, Jeannie saw things differently than most of us, but I was beginning to understand her.

  Unfortunately, she then noticed that Boots had disappeared. She stopped and looked back, then called, “Bootsie, come on,” several times. Then she looked at me. “Do you see my Boots?”

  I didn’t. “No, Jeannie. But she’ll come back. She always does.”

  Jeannie hung her head. “I guess.”

  We walked back in silence. This hadn’t quite been the pleasant walk I’d hoped she’d enjoy.

  Elizabeth had returned home when we came in through the back door. She took one look at Jeannie and said, “Time for you to rest.”

  I said good-bye, but I didn’t go straight to my van. I walked back down the block, crossed the street and went to the mill fence. I looked back at Deborah’s house and spotted the attic window she’d talked about. My gaze swept back and forth between the window and the mill so I could determine exactly where this kitchen entrance was. I had to walk about fifty feet to my right where the fence turned. I saw an old driveway leading up to the mill, weeds sprouting through cracks in the asphalt. There looked to be a loading dock there and a big door. But without binoculars, I couldn’t see much more than that.

  I needed to talk to Candace or Morris as soon as possible.

  Thirty-three

  Before leaving the mill village, I checked my cat cam. If Boots had somehow transported herself to my house, I didn’t see her napping with my three.

  I got a text from Kara while I was watching and learned I needed to get home and change my clothes. She was meeting Earl Whitehouse for dinner and had reserved the table right next to theirs so I could listen in on the conversation. The place was about as fancy as Mercy got—but even then, all I needed to wear were dressier pants, a pretty shirt and my coat rather than my jacket.

  My three cats were not happy when I came and left the house in such a hurry. As I drove to the police station to fill Candace in on today’s events, I nearly hit the car stopped at a light in front of me because Boots had suddenly appeared on the passenger’s seat. I couldn’t take dealing with a ghost cat for the rest of my life and surely hoped that if I found out who killed Kay Ellen, Boots could go back to comforting Jeannie full-time. Her popping up like this unnerved me.

  I was lucky enough to find both Morris and Candace at the police station before they’d left for the day. But since they were eating takeout in the break room, I had the feeling they weren’t leaving any time soon.

  I sat down at the table and explained what I’d learned from Jeannie and from the neighbor. I then asked about the kitchen entrance to the mill.

  Around a mouthful of sweet-and-sour chicken from China Palace, Candace said, “We checked that door. It’s got a dead bolt inside and I didn’t see any tool marks on the outside. But since you have confirmation from someone besides Jeannie that a person, or more than one person, was coming in and out of the mill, Morris can follow up. Don’t get me wrong; I like Jeannie. She just isn’t the most reliable witness.”

  “Did the neighbor say how long this has been happenin’?” Morris said.

  “No. She didn’t go into much detail,” I said. “From what I gathered standing next to her house, I doubt this woman could have distinguished much more than that it was a person coming and going—not their age, race or gender.”

  Candace looked at Morris. “Sounds like you definitely need to interview this woman.” She turned to me. “I can’t follow up because I’m running phone records on all those big-money players vying for the mill. I swear from looking at these pages and pages of calls, that these guys talk on their mobiles more than a bunch of teenage girls. We also got this shadow investor to figure out. Tom’s helping with that. I want to know how the town council allowed paperwork to be filed on the proposals without everyone’s name on it. Doesn’t seem legal.”

  Morris said, “They don’t give a crap. They want to unload that elephant and they wouldn’t care if a bunch of bomb-making idiots bought it.”

  Candace grinned. “You’re probably right.”

  “Did Tom tell you that Kara is helping with the Earl Whitehouse lead in Kay Ellen’s case?” I said.

  “Glad it’s her and not me,” Morris said. “He’s a judge’s son and you want to know where the power lies in this town, you walk into any courtroom. You’ll find th
e power sitting higher than everyone else.”

  “She won’t splash this all over the front page of the Messenger, I hope,” Candace said.

  “She just wants to be ready with her story once the truth comes out,” I said. “Tom believes she has the best chance of getting Earl Whitehouse to talk about Kay Ellen.”

  “Tom is one smart guy to use a pretty thing like her to get information,” Morris said. “I couldn’t get the time of day outta that boy. He was about ready to get his daddy on the phone when I decided to leave.”

  “She’s meeting with him at the Finest Catch for dinner,” I said. “Chatted him up at the post office after following him there.”

  “Bet his fiancée would like to know about that,” Morris said. “He’s got one of those, I hear.”

  “As long as the fiancée isn’t anything like Lydia, it should be okay. I’m sure Kara will make sure Earl gets the cold shoulder after today—that is, if she learns anything. It will be interesting to see if he stonewalls her like he did you.”

  “I hope she gets him talkin’,” Morris said. “’Specially if he killed Kay Ellen. And the way he’s lied already, he’s lookin’ pretty good for her murder.”

  “Which is why I’m relieved Kara’s meeting him in a public place.” I glanced at the clock above the fridge. “Got to go. Don’t want to miss anything.”

  I left my van parked in the courthouse lot and walked the few blocks to the Finest Catch. The hostess who greeted me whispered, “Kara told me right where to seat you, Mrs. Hart. She’s already here.”

  My table was directly behind hers. She was alone, sipping on a glass of white wine. We didn’t make eye contact—it was hard for me to walk right past her—and I sat so her back was to me and I would be facing Earl Whitehouse when he arrived. I sure hoped he didn’t stand her up.

  I ordered white wine, too, thinking of my cats when I did so. They had to be upset with me for rushing in and out after being gone all afternoon. On cue, as my thoughts turned to cats, Boots appeared. She seemed to know when I needed reassurance and when I was missing my own friends. As much as she sometimes unsettled me, I had to admit she was a nice little ghost, one who had led us right to Deborah, the neighbor, today. I had the feeling that was no accident.