by Clea Simon
“Yeah, and sort of generic. I don’t know, it read like a form letter, like, ‘You’re a nuisance and the neighborhood should get rid of you.’ There was something off about it. And another thing. This one was printed out, like you said Rachel’s were.”
“Generic? Like someone is trying to cover up?” If only I wasn’t so tired. “Vi, who did you tell about those letters?”
“Everyone. I even called over to the shelter to talk to Amy.”
“I want to see it, Vi.” Musetta head butted me. She looked fine, sleek and peppy, but I couldn’t help remembering how sick she’d been. “But first, let’s go over to the shelter. Maybe we’ll get some clues on who our nasty correspondent is.”
“And find out what’s poisoning our cats, too.” Violet took the coffee mug with her to the bathroom. Five minutes later, we were on the road.
***
“Theda, maybe I should handle this.” We’d taken my little Toyota for its ease in parking and, sure enough, I’d been lucky to squeeze into a half space at the edge of the shelter lot.
“No way, Vi.” I slammed the door shut. “I’m too involved.”
“That’s just what I mean.” But height has its advantages and Violet had to scramble to keep up with me as I strode toward the front entrance. “Wait up!”
I did pause, for a moment, by the front door. Unsure of what exactly I wanted to say, I held the door open for Violet. She walked in and stopped short.
“Francesca!” We both looked up. The younger woman was standing right outside the door. From the rings around her dark eyes, she hadn’t slept any more than we had.
I stepped ahead. “Is everything okay?” I looked back at Violet. “You don’t have another cat, do you?”
Francesca shook her head so that her long curls swung around. “It’s Ellis. I’m freaked.”
Violet and I looked at each other. We’d both forgotten about the club cat. “Nothing in the traps?”
Francesca grimaced. “Something had been in there. But not a cat.”
“Maybe he’s been picked up.” I tried to sound upbeat. “Are you going in to check?”
“Of course, I’m going to check!” Her voice rose tight and high. “Why else do you think I’m here?”
“Just talking.” I raised both my hands and stepped back as she huffed by me. Violet and I followed her into the waiting room. The place was a mad house. Not yet nine, and three sets of parents seemed to be restraining a half dozen children. One quiet girl was sitting alone, stroking a brown and white lop-eared rabbit. Another unwanted Easter bunny had found a permanent home.
The confusion was compounded by a constantly ringing phone. A volunteer in pink sat at the desk, in Amy’s place, trying to make sense of the calls. “Hello? Please hold. City shelter? Please hold.” We looked around and saw Amy emerging from a storage closet with a package of paper.
“Amy!” Violet waved to the regular receptionist. “Can we get into see Dr. Massio? It’s sort of an emergency.”
Amy looked up at us but kept walking, over to the printer on its little stand. “You can.” I heard her, so did Francesca, but while the receptionist made her way through the hubbub, answering questions as she walked, we both stepped up to join Violet. Amy shooed her temporary replacement out of her seat, buzzed the door, and we were through.
The door clicked behind us and I found myself looking down an empty hallway. Something I’d just seen was tickling at the edge of my consciousness, but the hall in front of me was blocking it out. The last time I had been back here, there had been crowds. Cops. My friend…No, it didn’t bear thinking about.
“Where to?” I heard my voice crack just a bit.
“Well, Dr. Massio has taken over Rachel’s office.” Violet knocked, and when there was no answer, let herself in. I hung back. There was no seal on the door, and I knew the room had been cleaned and made over. But I dreaded it. Instead, I dawdled and walked on. To my left, a window in a door revealed rows of cages. One of the cats looked familiar. Large and black.
“You can’t go in there. Not if you’re going anywhere else. That’s now the quarantine area.” I looked up. The round-faced doctor had emerged from the storage room down the hall.
I looked back into the room. Another round face looked up at me, this one with a dab of white right beneath his chin. “Ellis?” I opened the door.
“Miss!” The vet came toward me. I slipped in and closed the door. “Miss!”
It was Ellis. I started to unlatch the cage when rude hands dragged me back.
“I said, this area is quarantined!”
“Whoa!” I was laughing. This guy was serious. “It’s okay. I know this cat. He belongs to my boyfriend, but he must have gotten out.”
“I don’t care what you think you know. We have procedures here, and until this animal has been checked for infectious diseases we can’t release him. If he checks out, then you can present your credentials, though we’ll want to know how he ‘got out.’” The round-faced vet made air quotes for emphasis. He didn’t believe me.
I started to respond and stopped myself. He was right. This was how a shelter should be run, for the safety of individual animals and also for the pet population at large. I was about to try again, to come up with something that sounded more rational, when I heard Violet out in the hall.
“Found it!” Violet burst into the quarantine room, holding the KittyLuv bag. “It was back on the shelf in the cat ward. Hey,” she turned toward the vet. “Did you know that the cat we brought in yesterday got sick on something she ate here? Something like this?” She raised the bag and shook it. The few remaining pieces of kibble rattled around inside. “How did this get out of Rachel’s office? Someone’s poisoning cats, you know.”
“What’s going on? This is ridiculous. Amy?” He reached for the door. “I’m calling security.”
“Bit late for security, isn’t it?” I was thinking of the cat food, but that wasn’t how he heard it.
“You!” He turned and stared at me. “You’re the crazy lady. The murderer!”
Before I could respond, Francesca slammed into the room. “You’re the murderer,” she shouted at the vet, her voice too loud for the crowded space. “Killer!”
I grabbed her shoulders. Her thin frame was shaking. “Ellis is fine, Francesca. Calm down. We just have to deal with paperwork.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She pulled away. “I know him. Him and all his type. They killed her!”
“What?” I stared at her. For a moment, all was still, and then the thoughts started tumbling together. The printer. The letters. We were looking for someone from Rachel’s past. Someone who might have reason to intimidate her, to try to manipulate her into leaving—or coming back. Someone who had access to the shelter and knew his way around. Someone who could walk right by a delivery man without looking out of place.
“What’s your name?” I was struggling to stay calm, but my question came out with an edge. “Your name?”
“Dr. Massio. You knew that.” He looked more confused than alarmed, but the ruckus was attracting attention. An older woman stuck her head in the door.
“Is everything all right in here, Peter?”
I froze. That was it. “It was you, the one she was calling to. The one she named as she lay dying.” I turned to face him once again. Lee might be a creep, but he had no reason to lie. “There was an old boyfriend who’d resurfaced. You wanted her back. She was fighting with somebody the night before she died. I heard it. It was you, and you killed her.”
“You’re crazy. This is crazy.” He turned to walk away. “Amy! Call the cops!”
I needed to see his face, to watch his eyes as he made his excuses. So I grabbed his arm. He wasn’t a big guy and I was angry enough so that I spun him around. “I’m not done here.” I was furious, but I had to know more.
“Oh, yes, you are!” It was Violet, pulling me away. “This isn’t what you think.” She hissed in my ear. “I’ll explain later. Get out of here, Theda. Go.” She
shoved me out to the hall, toward the loading dock. “Go!”
Was it my imagination or did I hear sirens? “But Ellis…”
Violet pushed the cat food bag into my arms. “You take this, I’ll get the cat. You’re out on bail, Theda, don’t be stupid.” She paused for a moment. “Don’t go home. Go to Bill’s.”
I nodded. Those sirens might not be for me, but Amy was opening the door from the reception area, two volunteers behind her. I was outnumbered, and I ran.
Chapter Twenty-three
Violet was right, of course. If Dr. Massio set the cops on me, they’d come to pick me up at my apartment. I’d be safer at Bill’s. But Musetta was at my house, so I turned down Putnam, thinking I’d pack up the kitty and then hide out. Besides, it only seemed fair to warn Bill first if I was going to be bringing his former colleagues from across town down on his head.
“Kitty!” Musetta bounded down the hall as soon as I got in. I picked up the catnip butterfly that had been left for me and she reared up. “Long bomb!” She took off and I used the occasion to push the KittyLuv sack on top of the kitchen cabinets. We did not need any more incidents, but once I was in there, it occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten any food, good or bad, in too long. A quick snack, a phone call, and we’d be off.
“It’s me.” I sliced open a bagel as voicemail answered. “I’m coming over. I think, well, maybe this is solved.”
“Hey, Musetta!” I ate standing, watching her scamper down the hall, and shoved the rest of the bagel half in my mouth as I got her carrier from its shelf in the closet. “Field trip!” I loaded my courier bag with cans and a few toys. “Musetta.”
A curious black and white face peeked around the corner, just as the phone rang. I grabbed a few more cans and shoved them in. “Hang on, kitty.”
“Hey, you!” But if I’d expected Bill, I was in for a surprise.
“Theda. It’s Tess. I, well, I owe you an apology. And an explanation.”
“Tess, this isn’t the best time.” I peered down at the street. Violet’s van was still parked outside. No cop cars in sight. “I’m sorry, but I do have to be brief. How are you? Where are you?”
“I’m—I’m getting a tune up.”
I collapsed on the sofa, dropping my bag at my feet. I had the feeling I wasn’t getting away as quickly as I’d hoped. “A tune up? Tess, I hate to ask.”
“Then don’t, Theda. Please. Let me just tell you. Yes, I slipped. But I’m putting myself back together again. One day at a time.”
“That’s good.” I knew I sounded doubtful, but I couldn’t help it. She’d looked so skinny and frail the last time I’d seen her. “So?”
“It’s my own fault. I mean, I’ve got to own it. Maybe I just can’t do the club scene anymore. Maybe its time for something different. Let go and let God, you know?”
I’d been right, not that I’d say that exactly. “I was wondering. I kept seeing you out with Francesca.”
“It’s not her fault. Really, Theda. She’s a good kid. But, well, she’s bitter about things and that got to me, I think. But she tried to help. She even got me some stuff to help me calm down, to quiet the cravings.”
“The ketamine?” From the quick intake of breath, I knew she realized that her stash had been found. Would an animal tranquilizer have the same effect on people? I didn’t know, but from what I’d heard about “Special K” as a party drug, I doubted it. “Were you taking that stuff, Tess? Where did she get it?”
“It’s from ages ago. I didn’t use any of it, honest. I knew that if I started with anything, I wouldn’t stop. But I didn’t think I could hold out much longer. I had to get away.”
“Tess, if she was stealing drugs for you—”
“No, Theda. This is on me. All on me. I’m calling just to make a clean breast of everything and, well, I’ll be calling Bill next. I’m taking some time off from the lab and when I’m back, I’ll be working to make it up to him, and to you. But now, I’ve got to take care of myself. I wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t worry, okay?”
“What about your cat?”
A gentle laugh came over the line. “I knew you’d ask, Theda. Don’t worry. Francesca’s got a key. She’ll look after her.” And then she was gone.
After she hung up, I expected to feel angry or, at least, disappointed. I’d sensed something was wrong. I’d known it.
But for some strange reason, I found myself feeling proud of Tess. She had screwed up, sure, but she had caught herself. She was getting help. She was…resistant. And it hit me, then, that I’d been wrong about her resemblance to Francesca. It wasn’t just that her new friend was bitter, though I believed that. There was a fragility to Francesca that I’d been attributing to Tess. A brittle quality. That was why I’d been treating Tess so gingerly, but I knew I didn’t need to do that anymore. Tess was going to make it.
***
That thought warmed me while I set about searching for Musetta. I knew she couldn’t have gotten out, but I’d already checked under the bed and the back of the closet. “Kitty? We should get a move on.”
No luck, she recognized the carrier and she knew what it meant. In a desperate bid, I went to get her treats. Violet would understand, just this once.
“Greenies!” A head peeked out, but it was too late. Someone was knocking on my door.
“Coming.” Musetta ducked back into my bedroom and I took a deep breath. If the cops were going to take me downtown, I could call Bill and Pilchard. They wouldn’t revoke my bail for shouting at a vet, would they? I hadn’t threatened anybody.
I opened the door. “Francesca!” I collapsed against the door in relief.
“Hey, Violet sent me over.” She walked in and saw the carrier on the floor. “She figured you might come by here to get your kitty.”
“She’s hiding. She thinks the carrier means a vet visit.” Francesca moved into my living room and looked around. I had to bring up the ketamine, but was I breaking a confidence? “Hey, I talked to Tess.”
“She called you? Good. I was telling her she should. I figured you’d worry.” Francesca got down on her knees to peer under the sofa. “I’m taking care of her cat.”
“What about Ellis?” My last sight of the black cat stayed in my mind. He had too big a spirit to stay long in a cage. “Did you spring him?”
She shook her head and moved on to the kitchen. “No, not yet. There’s going to be all sorts of paperwork. Violet will handle it.”
I looked at the young woman curiously. She’d seemed so upset before. Now she was quite blasé. And did she really think my cat would be hiding on my kitchen shelves? “Can I help you?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought I’d get that food sack, bring it back to Violet when you go over to Bill’s.”
I joined her in the kitchenette and reached up to the top of the cabinet. She grabbed it out of my hands and laughed a little. “Sorry. We don’t want this to go astray, do we?”
“Speaking of, I can’t figure how Ellis ended up at the shelter, can you?”
She shook her head. “Who knows? But it’s so good you found him. You know, they kill the cats that they don’t think are adoptable. The ‘nippers.’”
“So you’d said. ‘Not immediately pet ready,’ right?” I remembered using the term on Violet. She hadn’t recognized it, and then I remembered something else Violet had said. “You worked there, didn’t you?” The ketamine must have come from Rachel’s clinic, but Tess hadn’t stolen it.
“I volunteered there ages ago.” Francesca gestured in the air and tried to move past me. “I was up for a job there. A good job, but I quit when they killed my cat. My Shiva.”
Shiva, the cat named for a god. Well, we all want our pets to be immortal. “Francesca, from all I’ve heard, distemper is a very serious disease.” I didn’t mean to block her, but I wanted answers.
She snorted. “Right. Like Shiva could get distemper. My pets are all natural. Nothing but parsley and alfalfa to strengthen the immune system. Shiva was fine. S
hiva was going to be fine.”
I thought of the ketamine, of the drugs available in a vet’s office. “Did Dr. Rachel euthanize your cat, Francesca?”
“She could’ve cured her.” Her? My mind flashed to the shelter. Francesca had accused Dr. Massio of killing her. I’d assumed she meant Rachel. Francesca was still talking.
“She was pretending to be nice, then. All sympathetic when she heard how sick my Shiva was. She kept after me till I brought her in.” Francesca turned away from me. There isn’t much room in my little kitchen and she ended up talking to my refrigerator magnets. “It was a trap. She hated me because Piers and I still had something. I was up for a tech job there, and she made sure I didn’t get it. I know why, too. He still loved me. Sure, he fooled around. Nobody could resist him. But we talked all the time, I’d come by when he was working there.”
“You were in the store room where he was working?” An idea struck me. I looked at the bag in her hand. “Why don’t you let me put that back up on the shelf? It will be safe here.”
“I don’t think so.” She turned to face me, the nearly empty sack clasped to her chest. “I think this is bad food and I should get rid of it.”
“Francesca?” I didn’t completely understand what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good. “What is it about that bag?”
She held it tight. “She didn’t love him. She didn’t love the animals. She cared more about name brands and corporate sponsorship. Did you know that new vet got this food for her? Got her a flat of it, like that would impress her. I’d told her, I’d cook for the cats. I’d make them healthy food, but no.”
“So, you thought you’d show her, right?” I was edging closer. That bag was evidence. “You’d show everybody that KittyLuv wasn’t good for cats.”
“I was making a point. It was only a little cocoa and cat mint, a mix I found on the Internet. But even when she figured it out, she didn’t get it.”
I knew then that if I got that bag back I’d find what Rachel had: a small tear or injection point. Fingerprints, maybe, or one of Francesca’s long, curly hairs. Old business. And my first instincts had been right. In those last moments, my friend was trying to tell me: poison. I moved closer still.