The Cat, the Vagabond and the Victim: A Cats in Trouble Mystery

by Leann Sweeney

  “Indeed, Miss Jillian knows the most reliable man in town, Mr. Tom Stewart. As for Buford, remember the poor soul is dead. I have prayed for forgiveness because I was impatient with him, even unkind at times. No matter how he came to his unfortunate end, I am truly sorry for how I treated him.”

  “He brought trouble and worry into your home, Mama. You know what I’ll be praying for? Your safety once I leave.” He nodded to emphasize his point.

  I stood and set my empty mug on the tray. “I would have called if I’d had your phone number, Birdie. But I am so glad I stopped by and got to meet your son.” I couldn’t say the same for the encounter with Wayne, although I may have interrupted what could have been a difficult conversation between Theo and Wayne. Secrets never stay secret and the one about Birdie and Mr. Jeffrey would be spilling out onto the streets of Mercy very soon.

  That was why, when Birdie slowly walked me to the door, I hugged her and whispered, “Don’t you think it’s time you told your son the truth?”

  When she pulled away, I saw tears in her eyes. She nodded.

  I walked out and down the porch steps to my minivan. I hoped Candace was at the station. I had a few things to talk about with her.

  Twenty-six

  I tried Candace’s cell once I pulled into the courthouse parking lot. My call went straight to voice mail. Perhaps she was talking to Dirk right now about the will.

  I hoped at the very least B.J. would tell me what was happening. I ran into Audrey in the lobby and as usual, she inspected me and the floor around me for cat hair. She pulled an orange hair off my shirt. “This don’t belong to one of yours. It’s from that cat you were with on TV, huh?”

  “You’re very observant,” I said with a smile. “Did you see Candace or Tom this morning?”

  “Saw them come and saw them go. Came separately, left together. You worried about Candace stealing Tom away from you?”

  I smiled. “Not at all. When did they leave?”

  “Maybe thirty minutes ago. Morris just passed through if you got police business. Grumpy as a bear, though. That relative of Mr. Jeffrey’s was with him, hanging on like they was best friends. The way he looked at her, you’d have thought she had a disease.”

  I stifled a laugh. I was familiar with Morris’s demeanor and his expressions left nothing to the imagination. “Maybe he needs rescuing.” But which relative came in with him? It sounded like Millicent. I couldn’t picture LouAnn or Ida Lynn hanging on to anyone.

  My guess was confirmed when I found Millicent sitting in the waiting area. She’d pulled a chair right up to B.J.’s desk and from the look on his face, he wanted her gone. A lot of strange people came in and out of this place, but I wondered how many of them sat so close for a chat.

  “Hey there, Millicent.” I added plenty of warmth to my greeting. “How are you?”

  To my surprise, she stood and gave me a kiss on each cheek, the scent of her perfume strong. Her dress, a leopard print, had a diagonal hemline. My degree may be in fiber arts, but I’d learned plenty about fabric during my college years. Creating a diagonal hem with the stretch fabric in that dress required skill—and skill cost money.

  With no Morris in sight, I decided he’d made his escape without my help. I glanced at B.J. over Millicent’s shoulder and his eyes begged me to rescue him. I could handle that.

  “Are you waiting for another interview with Deputy Carson, Mrs. Boatman?” I asked. Candace had said she would be speaking with her again today, so I surmised that was why she was here.

  “Yes, but this sweet young man, who has been telling me how he will be joining your little police force next year, has informed me that other business called Deputy Carson away. He wants me to reschedule. I told him my appointment with the undertaker we’ve hired isn’t until this afternoon, so I can wait for her to return.”

  “But it’s so uncomfortable in these old chairs,” I said. “Why don’t you join me for coffee down the street and come back later?”

  She raised a well-manicured hand to one cheek. “Why, do you suppose that would be all right?” She looked at B.J. who nodded solemnly.

  This Southern belle act can’t be for real, I thought. Her cousins sure didn’t talk or act like this. “Have you ever been to Belle’s Beans?”

  She hooked her arm in mine. “Why, have you forgotten I grew up in Mercy? I most certainly know Belle Lowry, but it has been several years since I have visited her little coffee shop. She’s proven herself quite the entrepreneur.” She glanced at B.J. “I do believe I will take Jillian up on her kind offer of companionship. You already have my number if Deputy Carson returns and wishes to speak with me.”

  We turned to leave and I glanced over my shoulder as we walked out the door arm in arm. I saw B.J., who was mouthing “Thank you,” hands steepled, eyes to the ceiling.

  We walked to Belle’s, the threat of rain still a few hours away. I enjoyed the summer breeze, as well as the whiskey barrels of colorful geraniums and gerbera daisies that lined Main Street, despite sharing the walk with the rather odd Millicent Boatman. The only one who hadn’t seemed strange in the family was Dirk—but now I’d learned he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming. Maybe Candace and Tom were discovering more about him this minute—and learning exactly why he’d lied about the will.

  As we made our way down the block, Millicent talked nonstop. She spoke about how much Mercy had changed over the years, from mill town to tourist spot, and described in detail her home on Hilton Head Island with its beautiful ocean view. By the time we made the five-minute walk to Belle’s, she’d also informed me about three restaurants I simply had to try when I came to visit her.

  Visit her? I didn’t think so. But of course I couldn’t be impolite and tell her that would never happen.

  When we reached Belle’s, the late-morning-coffee crowd was gone and only a few people sat at the tables. It was an odd mix of older retirees and young people with their laptops taking advantage of Belle’s free WiFi.

  I had my usual vanilla latte—a decaf after the industrial strength brew I enjoyed at Birdie’s house. Millicent ordered a black iced tea shaken with pomegranate juice.

  Huh? I didn’t even realize Belle served anything that fancy.

  Millicent didn’t protest when I offered to pay, just tottered off to a table near the back of the café while I waited for the order. I’d heard the rich often get richer because they thought their status entitled them to “free stuff.” I was beginning to believe it.

  When I sat down, I saw Millicent typing a text on her blinged-out phone. The glittery protective cover practically lit the room. Once I set the drinks on the table, she placed the phone facedown on the table and enjoyed a long sip of her tea through the straw.

  “Dirk messaged me that Deputy Carson and Mr. Stewart arrived to question him at the Pink House. Now, why couldn’t that young man who answers the phones or dear Morris Ebeling tell me as much? Poor Morris doesn’t seem any happier than when I knew him way back when. Some folks stay unhappy. Isn’t that right?”

  I wasn’t sure which question to answer—or if she indeed wanted any answers.

  Sure enough, she kept on talking. “Dirk is so bothered by this unpleasant business here in Mercy. I will be glad when I can take both Clyde and my boy back home.”

  Her boy had to be forty years old. “Does Dirk live with you?”

  “Oh no. He’s quite successful in real estate and keeps his own home as of several months ago. I suspect he has a woman friend and moved out of my residence for more privacy. When the time is right, he’ll talk with me about whether I believe she’s suitable for him. He does visit me often, though, since we both live on the island. I am proud to say he managed to make a good living when most everyone else in his business suffered through those economic troubles. Such a smart man, my son. I always said he took after Norm more than his father.”

  “From what you said before and the talk about town—you know how people love to chat in Mercy—you, Mr. Jeffrey and your cou
sins were once close. I realize LouAnn came between you and a man you loved, but what about your estrangement from your brother? Is that just a rumor, Mrs. Boatman?”

  Millicent offered one of her nervous giggles. “People are saying we were estranged? That’s ridiculous. Norm and I were fine. He did have this misguided notion that I aggressively pursued Oliver the minute LouAnn went off to college, but he realized later on he was wrong. Oliver pursued me.”

  “So it was simply a misunderstanding that lasted a long time?”

  She smiled and pointed at me briefly before resting her hand on her phone. “Bless your heart, you’ve obviously been listening to gossip mongers and probably heard tales from poor LouAnn. I do believe Oliver’s death has affected her mental health. She did resent that I had a child, a joy she never experienced. But then, perhaps that’s what one might call karma. And you know what people say about that.” She leaned forward and put her straw to her lips, her eyes appraising me.

  I met her stare. “Hmm. Sounds as if you might still have lingering resentment toward LouAnn.”

  “No, my dear. Unlike LouAnn and Ida Lynn, I moved on with grace and civility. You’ll have to speak with those two about old resentments.”

  “So you and Mr. Jeffrey were okay before he passed on?”

  “You’re beginning to talk like a policewoman, dear. I’ve lost my only brother and I will refrain from disparaging him in any way.”

  If she felt the need to refrain, I believed that answered my question. But I had to smooth the feathers I’d just ruffled. “I’m so sorry if I seem to be prying. Somehow I feel as if we’ve been friends for longer than a few days and I got carried away with my questions. Friends share everything, right?”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “All you need to know is that I loved my brother even if I did not often come to Mercy and visit with him face-to-face. We shared a blood bond that could never be broken by any of the choices he made. I forgave him.”

  “You’re talking about how he took LouAnn’s side way back when?” But I wondered if she might be referring to Mr. Jeffrey’s relationship with Birdie.

  “That is correct, dear. I did feel judged at the time. However, it is all ancient history.” Her facade dropped for just a moment. I saw anger in her eyes.

  Could a decades-old feud with her brother be reason enough to kill him? Not likely, I decided. It was ancient history. “Obviously you loved your brother. I mean, you agreed to take his cat. Taking on a pet is a big responsibility and that was so kind of you.”

  She seemed to relax and her smile returned. “Why, thank you, Jillian. I’m only sorry the cat slipped out and ran off. I could not bring myself to tell Norm what happened and thank goodness he left this world believing Clyde was safe and sound. And now, thanks to you, he is being well cared for again.”

  “Clyde is doing fine. But are you sure about your decision to take him home? LouAnn would surely love to have him. Clyde has proven during his stay with me that he gets along fine with other kitties.”

  “He cannot live with anyone but me. We must abide by my brother’s wishes, after all. Don’t you agree that’s how we honor the dead?” Her tone was sanguine sweet, but I hadn’t once heard her say she loved cats—and that concerned me. Perhaps I needed to change the subject. Clyde’s future was not set in stone, but arguing with Millicent wouldn’t be productive and would only put her off. “I suppose you would be honoring Mr. Jeffrey’s wishes. When is the funeral, by the way?”

  “The day after tomorrow. It is time to put poor Norm to rest.” She shook her head sadly. “I simply will never understand why anyone would want to take a sick man’s life.”

  “That is puzzling,” I said. “Did you ever meet the other victim, Buford Miller?”

  “No. Dirk took on the responsibility of making sure Norm was cared for after he became ill. Now he is berating himself over choosing a caregiver with problems serious enough to get him killed right in my brother’s home.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to me. “We both believe that Miller man murdered Norm.”

  Whoa. Where did this come from? “Really? Why would he do that? And if he did, who killed Buford?”

  “I have no answers. We are confounded by the developments here in Mercy. Ida Lynn informed me this Miller person was involved with drugs. As I mentioned to Deputy Carson, he may have been stealing from my brother and—”

  “But why kill your brother, then? I mean, he was the goose with the golden egg. Once Mr. Jeffrey died, Buford might have lost future access to any remaining valuables he could pilfer for drug money.”

  “Obviously he still had a key. Who knows what he would have stolen, given the chance? Dirk is convinced there was nothing to steal in the house, but I knew Norm better than anyone. He had secrets. And the Miller person may have found something worth stealing that we knew nothing about.”

  “Really?” I finished my coffee and held the empty cup between both hands.

  “Yes. But you do have a point about those golden eggs. I never thought about Mr. Miller losing access to money my brother may have been providing to him either willingly or by theft.” Her brow creased. She seemed perplexed. “Perhaps he wasn’t the killer, after all. Perhaps whoever murdered him, murdered my brother, too.”

  After last evening’s conversation with Liam, that didn’t seem likely, but I wasn’t about to bring that up. “It’s all so sad and again, I offer my condolences. I will definitely attend the funeral. Will the services be at a church or a local funeral home?”

  “The Amos Brothers Funeral Parlor in Woodcrest is coordinating with Ida Lynn’s church. She is familiar with those particular undertakers. They seemed quite reasonable, and since we have no idea what expenses Norm’s estate will be able to cover, we must be frugal.”

  “LouAnn believed your brother was well-off. You don’t think that’s true?”

  The nervous laugh returned. “You do understand LouAnn is not in her right mind? Besides, Norm would not share information about his money with her—in fact he, like LouAnn, tended to be reclusive and secretive. We accepted their peculiarities.”

  “We meaning you and your son?” I asked.

  “Yes. Dirk cared so much about Norm—perhaps because his father abandoned the two of us after carrying on with another woman. Dirk may have been past his teenage years at the time, but he still needed a father. He and Norm would always find things to talk about. As I said, they are very much alike.”

  “But your son is the executor of his uncle’s will. Has he shared any concerns with you about the state of your brother’s finances?”

  I saw a hint of surprise test her features briefly. Did she even know her son was the executor? Or was that a fact I wasn’t supposed to know? Surely Candace had asked all the family members about the particulars of the will.

  “Medical bills for a person with cancer can drain a bank account,” she answered. “Why, he may have debts we do not yet know about.” She finished off her tea and dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

  “But if there are funds left, how do you think he would divide his estate?”

  “I have no earthly idea. You’d have to ask Dirk.” She pushed away from the table and stood. She placed her phone in her handbag and said, “I believe I’ll return to the police station now. Since I do have an appointment in Woodcrest later today, maybe Morris can take my statement. He was in such a frightful mood earlier, but perhaps he’s had time to reflect on the benefit of good manners when dealing with the bereaved.”

  Yes, no one could accuse Morris of having any Southern charm. “I’ll walk back with you,” I offered.

  “That won’t be necessary. I haven’t forgotten my way around town despite all the changes since I moved away.”

  She seemed more standoffish now and I’d probably overstepped by questioning her about family money. She had been so open and talkative at first, but I’d obviously moved the conversation past her comfort zone.

  She did give me the double kiss again before she left
, so maybe I was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time this bizarre woman had left me feeling like I’d been more confused by talking to her than I was before we spoke.

  Twenty-seven

  I waited several minutes after Millicent left Belle’s Beans before I got up. If she didn’t want me walking back to the courthouse with her, so be it. I took out my phone and immediately realized I was about to look at a cat cam feed that didn’t exist. This reminded me that whoever destroyed my security system did so for a reason—and it wasn’t just vandalism. They were after Clyde. But why? The only person interested in cats was LouAnn and she certainly hadn’t chased a kitty through my house. But someone had.

  Nothing seemed to make sense right now, and I felt the need to go back to Kara’s place and visit with my fur friends. Perhaps their presence would ease the anxiety I felt at not knowing what the heck was happening with this family. Maybe then I could think through what I’d learned today.

  But when I walked out of Belle’s Beans, I spotted Tom’s Prius parked in front of the Main Street Diner down the street—and Candace’s squad car was right next to it.

  A few minutes later, I joined them in one of the wooden booths. To my surprise, Dirk was having lunch with them. I smiled at him and gave Tom a peck on the cheek, all the while wondering why they’d take a suspect to lunch.

  Candace hadn’t touched her cheeseburger yet and a look at what the guys had ordered showed me that their food must have just arrived. I told them to dig in and I ordered a sweet tea when the waitress appeared. Despite the wonderful smells of grilled onions and fries, I wasn’t hungry. Millicent’s overdose of chatter and my jangled nerves after meeting Wayne had killed my appetite.

  “I just talked to your mother, Dirk,” I said.