The Cat's Paw

by Louise Clark

  Another step. He was almost at the desk now. Christy wasn't sure why he'd suddenly turned hostile, but she didn't like his proximity.

  He looked down at her and bestowed that devastatingly beautiful smile on her. "Maybe I've already told the police."

  She looked into his marine-blue eyes. They were cold as polar ice. "I don't think so. If they had your testimony, they wouldn't have arrested my aunt for Brittany's murder."

  He stepped closer, invading her space, crowding her against the desk. "I think you've got a real need to know what I was doing on those two nights. Tell you what. I'll give you what you want to know, but I want something in return." His voice lowered. Roughened.

  Really? This guy is hitting on you for payment? Stormy hissed and sprang into action.

  Christy caught him as he leapt toward Cossi. "Not a good idea, Lorne. My friend here doesn't like it. Just tell me where you were and we'll both get out of here." Soon, I hope, Christy thought.

  "Too bad princess. No payment, no info." A sneer polluted the rough sensual voice, turning the potential of pleasure into the promise of mistreatment.

  The cat hissed again, and his legs scrambled for purchase. Frank clearly wanted at Lorne Cossi. At that moment Quinn decided to intervene and walked into the office. The cat stilled and there was a moment when he and Quinn eyed each other and Christy could have sworn that they communicated.

  Quinn's gaze swept from the cat to her. Christy felt her body respond with an undeniable rush as his eyes searched her for evidence that Cossi had harmed her. She smiled at him and shook her head. Quinn gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then he moved to within inches of Cossi. They were both similar heights and Quinn did nothing aggressive, except to push his way into Cossi's personal space, but the TA moved back a step, then another. "Tell the lady what she wants to know," Quinn said. "No strings attached."

  Cossi looked from Quinn to Christy, then to Frank in Stormy, and back to Quinn. His face twisted. "The morning Brittany died I was shagging one of my undergrads. I like morning sex."

  "And Dr. Peiling?"

  "I was in the lab. I've got a dozen undergrads to prove it."

  Quinn nodded. "I hope that's the truth, because I expect you'll be telling the police your story very soon." He reached out his hand. "Come on, Christy. Put Frank back in his carrier and let's go."

  Looking grim, Cossi said, "Is the animal Frank or Stormy?" as he watched the cat step back into the tote.

  Christy slung the bag on her shoulder and pushed away from the desk. She took Quinn's hand. He raised his brows and allowed his mouth to curl up in a tiny, superior smile. "Like the lady said—both."

  Chapter 25

  I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Better yet, I could have scarred his pretty face. The cat was practically vibrating with tension inside the tote bag on Christy's lap. You should have let me, Chris. The jerk deserved it.

  "I don't like it when you put yourself in danger like that." Quinn's tone was grim, his body tight with strain as he guided the car away from the university, back toward the city center.

  The two males were both upset. And because they were both vocalizing at the same time it was like being lectured in stereo. Though she wasn't frightened while she interviewed Cossi, his vile nature had given her the creeps, so Christy was edgy too. "Look, you were just outside the door, Quinn, and Frank was ready to mess up his face and make him suffer. I was never in any danger."

  "Really?" Quinn grinned, apparently pleased by the thought of Lorne Cossi's handsome face marred by cat scratches. He kept his eyes on the road, though, so Christy couldn't be sure. It was rush hour and the street was packed with commuters, though fortunately the traffic heading downtown, as they were, was still moving freely between lights. On the other side of the yellow line, commuters on their way home after work were already in stop-and-go mode.

  "Really. So both you guys stand down. I was fine."

  The light ahead changed to yellow then red. Traffic slowed and stopped. Quinn looked over at Christy. His gaze was troubled. "I know I'm being overprotective, but it was only a few weeks ago that you were almost killed. You gave me a scare. I'm trying to deal with it, but..." The light changed and Quinn looked back at the road.

  Think of me! I was worried too that day, but I couldn't do anything beyond trying to get this lug to figure out that you were in danger.

  Traffic started to move again. Quinn's eyes were on the cars ahead as he added in a low voice, "Christy, please understand..."

  He needs to open his mind and listen to me!

  There was a charged silence. Christy understood the emotions motivating both males. Frank had loved her and failed her in life. She thought that was why he was still here, rooming with Stormy the Cat. He needed to deal with his human frailties before he could move on. Quinn's life as a conflict-zone journalist had shown him firsthand the devastation that violence brought. Both needed her support, but she couldn't answer one before the other, because the one she didn't comfort first would feel slighted.

  Juggling two males sitting beside each other was more stressful than dealing with a sexual bully like Lorne Cossi. She swallowed hard and prepared to say what she hoped both would respond to.

  She didn't get the chance.

  "...I don't want to lose you," Quinn said. Emotion roughened his voice.

  Inside the tote bag, the cat went absolutely still as Quinn's voice echoed through the car.

  Hell. Open the bag, Chris. Stormy and I will go and sit in the backseat.

  Christy sighed. She put one hand on Quinn's arm and hugged the tote more closely with the other. "Thank you. I understand your worries, I really do, but I was never in any danger. I walked into Cossi's office knowing I had backup. I wouldn't have gone near the guy if you hadn't been there."

  Under her hand, some of the tension eased from the muscles in Quinn's arm. She squeezed it briefly, then released him so that she could open the tote and give Frank the option of leaving her lap.

  Stormy's green eyes looked up at her and he didn't move. Frank might want to lick his wounds in the relative privacy of the backseat, but Stormy preferred the comforts of a human lap. He butted her hand, demanding to be petted. She tickled him under his chin. When Stormy began to purr, Christy chuckled.

  Quinn glanced over, brows raised in question, before returning his attention to the road.

  "Frank is as upset with me as you are," Christy said. "He wants to go sit in the backseat and sulk. Stormy is resisting."

  The cat's purr deepened with contentment and he sprawled on his side to give her access to his belly.

  Quinn gave the utterly relaxed Stormy a quick, sidelong glance before he looked back at the road. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he stared at the traffic ahead of them. "Are you sure it's just the cat who doesn't want to leave?"

  The purring stopped, then started up again, louder than before. He's got a point. I am your husband, after all.

  Christy sighed, then deliberately changed the subject. "How long do you think it will take to reach the police station?"

  When they left the university, they'd decided they needed to get the information they'd gleaned from Roger Day and Lorne Cossi to Detective Patterson without delay. A quick check had reassured Christy that Noelle was having a great time with Ellen, Roy, and Trevor. They were at the Christmas tree lot, walking through the stands of pine, searching for the perfect tree. The ground was soft, but not mushy, it wasn't raining and Noelle was out in the fresh air and having fun. During the call, Christy heard Ellen's voice in the background say, "That one is nice and bushy," followed by Noelle's shouted reply, "It's too small!" At that, both she and Roy had laughed and he told her not to worry and get back when she could.

  "In this traffic? Probably another forty-five minutes."

  Patterson had agreed to meet them at the coffee shop near the station. If Quinn was correct, and the traffic cooperated, they'd be right on time.

  * * *

  The small restaurant was much as
Christy remembered it from her previous meetings with Detective Patterson, when Frank had been missing, and presumed to be the embezzler of the Jamieson Trust. The place was a favorite with the cops who worked out of the main police station and at any time of the day it was always packed. The décor was bare-bones—Formica-topped tables, vinyl-covered chairs, linoleum flooring, and walls in need of a paint job.

  Patterson sat at a table situated so that she had a good visual of the entryway. There was a thick white coffee mug in front of her and she was turning it on the Formica tabletop as if her hands needed movement while her body remained still. When Christy and Quinn entered the room she didn't move, even though Christy was quite certain she'd seen them.

  "Mrs. Jamieson, Mr. Armstrong," she said by way of a greeting as they reached her table and sat down.

  A waitress appeared. Quinn ordered coffee. Christy shook her head.

  When the waitress had gone, Patterson sat up a bit straighter, then leaned forward. "You have some information for me pertaining to the murder of Brittany Day?"

  "Yes," Christy said.

  Patterson raised her brows.

  "My husband's aunt didn't kill Brittany."

  Patterson sat back. The expression on her face was resigned. Or perhaps disappointed. Christy wasn't sure which.

  "The evidence tells a different story."

  It was Christy's turn to lean forward. "We have new evidence."

  "I'm listening."

  "Another murder and a false alibi."

  The detective sighed. "You're talking about Dr. Peiling's death. We're treating that as an unfortunate accident."

  "Are you?" Quinn asked.

  Patterson turned narrowed eyes on him. "What are you insinuating?"

  "Jacob Peiling's death was in the news and I can't help but wonder why? He was well-known in his field, but he wasn't a household name. He died as the result of an allergic reaction, which isn't a suspicious death, unless somebody fed him something he shouldn't have eaten. I don't think the media would be interested in Jacob Peiling's death unless someone asked someone else to run the story."

  "You're smelling a conspiracy," Patterson said with a faint smile. "I'm not into them."

  "My life is full of them," Christy said with a sigh.

  That brought Patterson's gaze back onto her. "I guess it is," she said after a moment. "So you two think that Jacob Peiling was murdered." She made it a statement, not a question, and she raised her brows to invite comment.

  "According to his friends and students, Jacob Peiling was paranoid about eating food containing peanut oil. He rarely dined out and when he did he only went to restaurants he trusted," Christy said. "He never ate takeout, yet there was a container of takeout food on his desk. Why?"

  Patterson shrugged, though her eyes were watchful. "The food came from one of the restaurants he patronized. It wasn't ordinary takeout from a fast-food joint."

  "He didn't eat at his desk. In fact, he had a standing order that none of his students eat at theirs, either. He thought it was a dirty habit and he wouldn't allow it. Why would he eat takeout food at his desk on the night he died? If the food came from a restaurant he used, why didn't he go to the restaurant to eat?"

  Patterson drew a circle on the tabletop with the thick white mug. "Maybe he had a deadline to meet."

  "Or maybe he had someone to see," Quinn said. "Someone involved in Brittany's death."

  The mug stilled. "That's a stretch, Mr. Armstrong."

  Quinn shook his head. "I don't think so. Roger Day told us that Peiling called him on the afternoon he died. He said he had news about Brittany's death, but he wouldn't reveal a name because he had to check his facts first. He was going to call Day that evening. He didn't."

  "So you think that Jacob Peiling discovered who killed Brittany Day and he was meeting that person in his office later that day. And, when that person brought food to the meeting, he calmly ate it?"

  There was a sneer in Patterson's voice as she ended the sentence. Christy flushed and rushed into speech. "No. We think he found out that the alibi Brittany provided for Aaron DeBolt was false. We also think that he figured out who asked Brittany to give Aaron the alibi and he was shocked. That's why he insisted on checking his facts. He found it difficult to believe the person he'd identified could have done it."

  "So. The deaths of Brittany Day and Jacob Peiling are related."

  "And the motives for both of them turn around the alibi Brittany gave Aaron for the night of Frank's murder."

  Patterson rubbed the scar that ran down one side of her perfectly sculpted face. "Definitely a conspiracy," she said with a grimace.

  "Did Aaron DeBolt have any visitors while he was in jail?" Quinn asked.

  "Some," Patterson said. "Why?"

  "Can you find out who and when?"

  She frowned at Quinn. "Yes. Again, why?"

  "Because I think that if you check, you'll find that Brittany Day was one of his visitors. And that she visited him after she produced the alibi and shortly before she died."

  "And the significance of this is?" Patterson looked annoyed. She was sitting up straight again and the mug was still.

  "Someone on the outside convinced Brittany to give Aaron the alibi he needed in order to have the charges against him dropped. But then Brittany had second thoughts. She went to Aaron to apologize. Or perhaps to warn him that she was changing her statement. That's why she was killed. So she didn't have a chance to retract."

  "We've thought of that," Patterson said slowly. "I checked the visitor list, but I couldn't find any correlation. As far as we're concerned, Brittany Day's affidavit stands."

  "Then you'll need to talk to a rather nasty grad student at EBU by the name of Lorne Cossi," Christy said. "Brittany couldn't have been with Aaron DeBolt on the night Frank was killed, because she was having sex with Cossi across town."

  Chapter 26

  Busting Brittany's credibility with the revelation that she was with Lorne Cossi at the time she claimed to have been with Aaron got Patterson's attention in a big way. It took a bit of effort, but Quinn managed to convince the detective to share the names of Aaron's visitors while he was in the holding facility and when the visits had taken place.

  The information was startling.

  Natalie was a daily visitor—no surprise there. Christy had long known that Natalie was a devoted mother—but the day before Brittany had come forward with the alibi for the night of Frank's murder, she visited Aaron. Furthermore, she hadn't gone to the prison alone. She'd accompanied Natalie on one of her regular visits and had waited until after Natalie and Aaron met, to have her own visit. When her time was up, the two women left the facility together.

  Brittany made a subsequent visit to Aaron two days before she was murdered. According to notes made at the time of the visit, she appeared distressed when she left.

  Cara LaLonde had also visited Aaron while he was incarcerated. She began by visiting regularly, but by the time Brittany was concocting the alibi, Cara's visits had dwindled to only the odd time here and there. One of those visits occurred the day before Brittany's first visit. Another was the day before Brittany died.

  The rest of Aaron's crowd seemed to have abandoned him as soon as he was charged in Frank's death. The only other visitor of importance was Nathan DeBolt who saw his son on the eve of Brittany's murder.

  Christy and Quinn speculated on what this meant as they drove back to Burnaby from the police station. "Brittany must have advised Aaron she wouldn't alibi him when she visited him the second time," Christy said. They were on East Hastings and had a straight run home, but the road was still packed with commuters, all headed in exactly the same direction they were.

  "And Aaron must have told someone on the outside what she planned." Quinn braked hard when a car from the nearby lane abruptly swerved into his.

  "So who?"

  "Cara, Natalie, or Nathan DeBolt," Quinn said. "None of the TAs visited Aaron. And if the other two were like Lorne Cossi, they w
ouldn't be too willing to help Aaron out of this kind of fix anyway."

  My money is on Nathan. They'd left Stormy in the car while they met with Patterson in the café. He'd been annoyed by that, but had to accept that taking a cat into a restaurant would have destroyed Christy's credibility with the detective. Now he was not going to be left out of the discussion. Nathan has a reputation for being ruthless. Besides, he's pals with Gerry Fisher.

  Since Gerry Fisher had been the worst of Frank's Trustees it wasn't surprising Frank would vote for someone who was Gerry's friend. "Didn't Aaron start dealing drugs because his father cut him off financially, Frank?"

  Yeah. He wanted Aaron to get a job. So he did. Nathan didn't approve of the kind of job he got though. That just made it better to Aaron. He liked pissing his father off.

  "I assume the cat agreed?" Quinn said.

  "He did. Cara LaLonde had a pretty good motive, too. I think she was in love with Aaron and she saw Brittany as a threat to her relationship with him."

  "Given the number of times she visited him in jail, you may be right. But her visits had fallen off recently. I think she may have given up on him," Quinn said. He turned right on Boundary and headed south. "I'm going to try getting home using Holdom. If we stay on Hastings, we'll be here till midnight."

  Traffic eased as they merged east onto the less-traveled street and their speed picked up. "That leaves Natalie," Christy said. "I can see her killing Brittany to ensure Aaron walked away from the charges against him, but why kill her in Ellen's apartment? Ellen is her friend and they've been chummy ever since I came to Vancouver with Frank ten years ago."

  And they were pals long before that.

  "Frank agrees," Christy said, translating for Quinn. "And says that their friendship is long-standing."

  Besides, she's older than Brittany and not as big. It would be difficult for her to overpower Brittany, especially if Brittany was in fear for her life.

  His eyes on the road ahead, Quinn said, "Let's consider Jacob Peiling's death. Someone brought him a dinner from one of the restaurants he usually frequented because he felt safe eating their food. He must have trusted that person because he was willing to eat the takeout meal he or she brought."