I looked sideways at him. “Am I that transparent?”
He smiled. “You’re getting to be. As hard as you’re trying to stop me, I am actually getting to know you.” And with that he leaned over and kissed me. A soft, gentle kiss on the mouth.
Thirteen
The following morning, I awoke to the smell of coffee and the memory of a kiss. And last night’s guilt was fresh in my mind, too. I felt as if I’d betrayed John. Especially when I’d walked into the house last night and the first thing I saw was his daughter. Kara had been talking on her cell phone and waved at me in a friendly enough manner to warm my heart. Maybe there was hope for us after all.
I hadn’t wanted to interrupt her, so I’d gone straight to my bedroom. Sure, John would want me to find another partner. But that darn guilt still kept me tossing and turning for a good hour before I’d finally fallen asleep.
Now I sat up, stretched and checked the clock on my nightstand. Eight a.m. Kara must have made coffee, and I almost felt pampered. Then I realized my cats weren’t in the room. That bothered me. Routine is soothing, and this was a break from routine. I realized Chablis might be downstairs guarding her friends. But I wondered where my boys were.
Thinking about my visiting cats downstairs gave me a terrible thought. Dame Wiggins and her litter. Darn. I didn’t fill her dish last night, I thought, getting out of bed. I nearly tripped as I rushed out of my bedroom and headed down the hall.
Kara was in the kitchen, and I said, “Good morning. Coffee smells great,” as I hurried past her toward the basement door.
Kara seemed to know just what I was up to because before I made it to the basement door, she said, “Don’t worry, Jillian. I fed her and gave her fresh water. But perhaps you could do the litter box?” she said.
I stopped and looked at her. “Oh. Thanks.” I don’t know why I was so surprised by her thoughtfulness. I guess it had just been a long time since I had been living with someone else.
“Don’t you ever eat?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve got next to nothing but yogurt and tea. Tuna salad was good for lunch yesterday, but it’s not really my favorite breakfast food.”
“We can go to the Piggly Wiggly later. Or you can make a list and I can go,” I said.
“I’ll do the shopping.” She wore shorts and a tank top and was leaning against the counter holding her coffee cup. “I’m meeting with Tom today, and I’ll stop at the store after we’re done. That way I can pay for the week’s food.”
Okay. Lots of info. She has enough money to pay for food, she’s staying for at least a week and she’s meeting with Tom. I smiled and said, “Sounds perfect. And thanks for feeding Dame Wiggins.”
“Believe me, she came up here and told me to do it,” Kara said.
“She left her litter?” She must have been as hungry as when she’d showed up at Ruth Schultz’s farm to do that.
Kara smiled. She was so lovely with her flawless skin and gentle curves, and a decent night’s sleep and a better attitude only accentuated her assets. “Go down and check out what’s happening,” she said. “It’s great.”
So I did. Merlot and Syrah were lying in the middle of the game room again. Waiting for Chablis to grant them admittance to the bedroom? Probably. When I went to the door, I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud—which would have surely hurt Chablis’s feelings. Chablis lay on Dame Wiggins’s quilt with those four babies cuddled close to her. Dame Wiggins sat at the food dish and stopped eating long enough to offer a sweet little meow.
I knelt next to Chablis, and I swore her purrs could have been heard in the next county. Apparently this was a dream come true for her. I stroked her head, and she closed her eyes. Yup, a litter of kittens was the best thing that had happened to her since John and I rescued her from that shelter.
I guess she’d been wanting a family all this time.
After I came back upstairs, I told Kara I was off to shower and then had quilting orders to attend to. When I came out into the kitchen an hour later, she was gone. Off to meet with Tom, I guessed. I consumed the last two yogurts and then took my coffee down the hall. Syrah and Merlot bounded into my sewing room ahead of me.
I still had to bind quilts for promised orders. I make continuous bias bindings for all my quilts and hand sew them on during the last binding step for a nice, neat finish. I had yards of completed bindings and took a green and red tiny print from my binding drawer. A woman in Georgia had ordered a quilt for her cat Saint Nick and wanted, of course, green and red. I’d made a simple nine-patch with beautiful small-print fabrics and added a flying-geese border to this one. Custom orders like this are my favorite.
Long strips of fabric like bindings are a cat’s dream, and I always keep several that my three can play with. I pulled out one of those, and Syrah was on that fabric like a bear on a fish. He grabbed it in his mouth and started to run toward the windowsill, but Merlot immediately snagged the other end. Too bad Chablis was missing out on this game, but she was probably having more fun downstairs.
I sat at my sewing machine by the window. No lake view on this side of the house, but there were the big hickories and oaks with lots of birds and squirrels to distract me. The binding was all ironed, and once I had machine sewed it all the way around the quilt, making sure to miter the corners, I would then flip the binding over the raw edges of the quilt and hand sew it on. This was my absolute favorite part of making a quilt—the part that relaxed me the most.
But I’d managed to get only the machine- sewing part of the binding done when my cell phone rang. The small voice I heard at the other end took me by surprise.
“Is this Miss Jillian Hart?” whispered the boy.
“Jack? Is that you?” I said.
“Yes. I can’t talk loud. I don’t want Mom to hear. Can you come over and help her?”
My heart fluttered. “Is she hurt?”
“Nothing like that. She’s called Candace like a hundred times, but Candace must be so busy with the professor’s death investigation, she doesn’t have time for my mom right now. Totally understandable to me, of course.”
“Totally,” I echoed, astonished again at this child. I wondered what it must be like to be so different from other kids. Difficult, was my guess. “How can I help, Jack?”
“Would you come over? Just for a little while. She’s . . . well, you saw how she is. And it’s worse because the professor died.”
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can. And I won’t let her know you called me, okay?”
“That would be especially considerate. Bye.”
I made a quick check downstairs and saw Chablis, Dame Wiggins and the kittens sharing the quilt. The kittens were suckling, and Chablis was curled close to Dame Wiggins’s head this time. Syrah had carried the quilt binding downstairs and lay on his back on the game-room floor with the fabric between his paws. Maybe he thought he could tempt Chablis out of the bedroom with the binding and things could get back to normal for him. Not anytime soon, buddy, I thought.
After I turned the TV to Animal Planet for Merlot’s entertainment, I was off. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I drove down Robin West’s long dirt driveway. I noted a new padlock on the barn and saw that the blinds on the house were all closed. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought no one was home. I slid from behind the wheel of my minivan and felt a few splats of rain hit my shoulders. I hurried to the porch before the dark clouds released the storm that was about to hit.
I knocked on the door and at the same time shouted, “Robin? It’s Jillian.”
Nothing at first, and then I saw the blinds crack on the window to my right. I heard Jack yell, “Mom it really is Miss Jillian.” His voice sounded muffled for some reason.
Seconds later, the door opened. Robin wore heavy-duty rubber gloves and had a surgical-type mask hanging around her neck. “Hi, Jillian. What brings you here?” Her smile was tight, her voice strained.
“In the neighborhood,” I said.
“Let
her in, Mom. It’s about to storm.”
I realized why his voice was muffled when I peeked around Robin. He was wearing his surgical mask.
“Sorry to be rude,” she said. “Come in. Nice to see you again.” She opened the door, and I stepped into her ultra-tidy living room. No dust lived here, that was for sure.
“Is someone sick?” I asked, as Robin led me through her living room to the kitchen.
Jack walked beside me, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Robin removed her gloves and pulled out a kitchen chair for me. She said, “Sick? Why would you—”
Jack pointed at his mask.
Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. No. I’m doing a little extra cleaning today. Those chemicals can be very harsh on the immune system.”
Jack removed his mask. “You’re finished cleaning for now, right, Mom?”
Robin glanced behind her. A bottle of Clorox Clean-Up sat by the sink. “Yes. I suppose.”
She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, which was probably true, what with the cow and the professor and the stakeout. “You look tired, Robin. Having trouble sleeping?”
Robin looked at her son. “Um, Jack? Would you mind leaving us alone for some girl talk? You can use your computer for one hour, okay?”
His eyes lit up. “Cool. Bye, Miss Jillian.”
He took off, and I felt like I’d already accomplished something. He could have a little fun.
“What can I get you to drink?” Robin asked.
“Water would be fine,” I answered.
She opened the refrigerator, took out a glass bottle and poured water into a spotless glass. “It’s filtered,” she assured me. “And I don’t like to keep the water in that plastic pitcher. Plastic is very bad for your health.”
“You’re not having anything?” I said.
“My stomach’s a little queasy,” she said.
I sipped my water. “You’re upset, right? Because you heard about the professor’s death?”
“Yes. I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t called Candace, if I’d left him alone and let him just take the milk—”
“Let him come on your property without permission and continue to steal from you? No. You did the right thing, Robin.”
“But he’s dead, and see, there’s more. He called me. And I wasn’t very nice to him. And I am so sorry for that.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers. They were clenched together in front of her and icy cold. “I can tell you’re the kind of person who takes on a lot of responsibility. But you don’t have anything to be sorry for. The man stole from you.”
“And I forgave him, but then on the phone, I just didn’t like what he had to say, and—” She pulled her hands from beneath mine and stood. “I forgot the coaster.”
Indeed, my glass was weeping and had left a wet spot on the table. I was the one who felt sorry now—for her and for Jack. Had she ever been treated for her over- the-top anxiety? Did she realize how much her behavior must be affecting her child?
She took her time wiping the wet spot, making sure the table was completely dry. She then placed a stone coaster decorated with a picture of the White House beneath my glass.
Thinking she might need to calm down before we continued talking about the professor, I said, “Have you been to the White House?”
“Jack met the vice president. My ex-husband even made the trip. My wonderful, brilliant son wrote an essay on saving the environment, and he got to read it to the vice president.” She shook her head, and the tears returned. “He is so special, and I am such a failure as a mother. I drove his father away because I do this crazy stuff, and—”
“Jack is amazing. Do you think a crazy mom could raise a boy like him? You’re doing a fantastic job.” She certainly admired her boy, that’s for sure.
Robin took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “You think so?”
I smiled. “I know so.” In some ways, I added to myself. “Now, tell me about this phone call—and pretend you don’t feel guilty, even though you do.”
She pulled a small bottle of gel hand cleaner from her pocket and started cleaning her hands. “He called late Friday afternoon. At first I thought he wanted to apologize again. But he never said he was sorry. And you know how he was stuttering when you and Candace caught him?”
“Right,” I said.
“None of that,” she said. “He sounded like a different person. Like a not-so-nice person.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He wanted more milk. Said I’d promised him milk and I should come through.” Robin’s cheeks reddened. “Did I promise him that? Because I don’t think that’s what I said, and I told him as much.”
“You didn’t promise him anything. You said you would have given him milk if he’d asked, but that’s not the same thing. And after what he did, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. He scared you silly.”
She sighed. “Whew. That’s what I thought, but then he died and maybe I should have told him we could barter like he wanted to. But I never got the chance, really.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Huh? He wanted to barter?”
“He said he would give me cat food for Lucy—high-quality cat food, he called it—if I would give him raw milk.”
“But you didn’t take him up on this, I assume?” I said.
“I don’t think I would have, but see, I heard his doorbell ring then, and he said he had to go, that he’d get back to me. And today I find out that he’s dead. I feel so awful because I could have been more generous and understanding.”
“You and I should write a book—The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I go overboard in the guilt department myself. I don’t believe I would have handled that call with generosity and understanding if I’d been in your shoes, though.”
She smiled for the first time. “The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I like that.”
“Do you recall what time he phoned? This could be important information for the police.” I was wondering whether Professor VanKleet’s killer had actually come to his front door that day. Whoever freed the cats didn’t ring any doorbells; otherwise, they wouldn’t have had to cut the fence.
Robin said, “He called late in the afternoon, because Jack was home from school. Of course Jack started asking me questions when I hung up. I could tell he was upset.”
“Because you were upset, right?” I said.
“Yes, but I didn’t tell him anything. And now I still have to keep quiet. Jack shouldn’t hear about people being murdered in our town. He’ll have nightmares.”
But Jack already knows, I thought. Via the Internet? Probably.
“So VanKleet called in the late afternoon?” I said, but didn’t add that he was dead not long after. “The police will probably be looking at the professor’s phone records. Your number will come up, and they might want to talk to you. For now, I can tell Candace about this call when I see her. Would that be okay?”
Robin’s face relaxed, and I swear she looked ten years younger. “Would you do that? I hate bothering Candace all the time, and the rest of the police force is sick to death of me.” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh. Not sick to death. That’s a horrible thing to say right now.”
“Remember our Guilt-Lover’s Manual? Are you writing another chapter this minute?” I said.
She smiled again. “You’re right. Thank you, Jillian. Amazing you came by at the right time to reassure someone who needed reassurance.”
Not as amazing as you might think, I thought. “I noticed a little guy with sad eyes when I got here. Can I offer a suggestion?” Jack had reached out to me, and I wanted to help him.
“Certainly,” she said.
I saw a wariness in her eyes that almost made me rethink what I was about to say. And then I realized that this had been Tom’s intent with Kara—to help, not to overstep. And that insight made me understand that I had to speak up for Jack. “This
is just my opinion, but a child might not feel comfortable coming to the door wearing a surgical mask unless you’ve had a tuberculosis outbreak in the house.”
“But the chemicals could—”
I held up my hand. “Maybe you could send him outside when you have to clean—and I understand you need to do that right now. I’ll bet Lucy would love it if Jack came out and petted her. And there’s ball and Frisbee and, oh, I don’t know, rock collecting. Anything, Robin.”
She didn’t speak for a few seconds, and I thought I’d really pissed her off, but then she let out a big sigh and said, “I know you’re right. I should do that. No, I have to do that. It makes me uncomfortable, but I know if I don’t, he’s going to end up hating me.”
I put my hand on her upper arm. “I don’t think anyone could ever hate you.” Thunder rumbled and I added, “Maybe now’s not a good time for him to play outside, but later. When there are puddles to splash in.”
“Puddles. Oh boy.” She wrinkled her nose, but she offered the third smile of the day. Might be a record for her.
I said, “And now I’m off to hunt down Candace and tell her about that phone call you received from the professor.”
I left, but after I dashed to my van to avoid as many raindrops as I could and was putting my key in the ignition, I saw the blinds part in the front window. Then Jack stuck his hand through the slats and gave me a thumbs-up.
Fourteen
Once I was on the road, I tried Candace’s cell phone, hoping we could meet at Belle’s Beans. I wanted to tell her about Robin’s contact with the professor, but my call went straight to voice mail. I checked my watch. Almost noon. She’d worked yesterday at the professor’s farm gathering evidence, so maybe she was at her apartment, sound asleep.
Home sleeping with what she considered a murder investigation in progress? Think again, Jillian, I thought. Candace believed Morris Ebeling didn’t value her input, and if I knew her, she’d be hard at work hoping to prove him wrong. “Bet I know where to find you, my friend,” I said as I made a U-turn. I’d just passed the turnoff to VanKleet’s place and decided I’d drive by the old farm. My hunch was that the evidence hunter might have gone back for yet another look around that property.
The Cat, The Professor and the Poison Page 11