The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon citm-4

by Leann Sweeney

  “Somewhere between here and Woodcrest.” She scribbled notes on her clipboard. “Should be able to check the timing if we find the guy in the U-Haul. Must be you hit your head bad enough to get a concussion along the highway. You’re sure you don’t have a clue how it happened?”

  Tom sighed heavily. “Candace, he’s told you what he knows. Give the kid a break.”

  “I have one more request,” she said. “Fingerprints. Then y’all can leave.”

  Tom nodded. “Knew that was coming. Let’s get it over with, then.”

  “Be right back.” Candace left the room.

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” I said.

  “She didn’t keep on about my mother and Nolan, so I guess not,” he answered.

  Tom said, “I hate to tell you this, but you’re gonna have to be more specific about why you left home sooner or later. Your mother was in with Chief Baca when Candace and I came back here with the gun. Hilary probably said plenty, not much of it true.”

  “Do you know how long she’d been here?” I said.

  “When Candace and I arrived with the gun, B.J. told me she’d been waiting around for almost an hour before she went in to talk to Chief Baca.” He turned to Finn. “Mike only has her version of why you ran, even though he was here last night and knows exactly what I think of my ex and her dead husband. My advice is to set Candace straight in as much detail as possible. But not yet. First I want to find out what cards Hilary’s already played. Mike will tell Candace and she can fill us in.”

  Finn nodded solemnly.

  Candace reentered the room holding what looked like a smartphone. Turned out it was a portable fingerprint scanner—a new evidence tool. No wonder she seemed happy. Candace loved anything to do with evidence. She was just finishing up with Finn’s prints when we heard a female voice, one I recognized immediately.

  “Oh no.” Tom rubbed between his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

  But Finn’s expression brightened. “Is that Nana Karen?”

  Twelve

  Finn rushed from the interrogation room and the rest of us followed. He flew through the gate dividing the hall from the front office and into the arms of Karen Stewart—Tom’s mother.

  From their tight embrace, I could tell Karen clearly adored this kid and he seemed to love her, too.

  Tom, who was standing next to me, said, “I should have fought for custody even though I wasn’t his real dad. He deserved more moments like this.”

  “Is there any other family—like his biological father?” I asked

  “Good question,” Candace said as she scrolled through the fingerprints she’d just scanned in. “Has he ever been in the picture?”

  Karen placed her hands on either side of Finn’s face and started asking him questions. They were in their own world. I’d never seen her smile so big.

  Tom said, “The father’s name is Rory Gannon. Hilary once told me he’s mentally ill. When he was institutionalized, she divorced him, took Finn and got as far from him as her money would take her.”

  “You ever meet him?” I said.

  “Nope. He never paid child support. Never showed his face. A phantom. As far as I knew, she was a single mom, with a fantastic kid, who deserved better than an uninvolved ex-husband.”

  Candace said, “I have to send these prints to the crime lab, but I have more questions for you, Tom.”

  He sighed heavily. “About what? I want to help, but I’m tired and I know you are, too.”

  “I need to know more about what went on between you and Nolan Roth.” She started to walk down the hall away from us. Over her shoulder she said, “See, I just talked to the chief. He said Mrs. Roth claimed to know nothing about Nolan making you drive to North Carolina and the dustup between you and Roth.”

  “You don’t believe her, right?” Tom said.

  Candace stopped and turned back. “I’d say those bruises on your face are enough evidence for me. But to satisfy the chief, who seems quite charmed by your ex-wife, by the way, I need more details with a time line, Tom. Right now, I’ve got evidence to examine. So go on, all of you. Get some rest. I know where to find you.”

  She walked to the end of the hall and disappeared into the office across from Chief Baca’s.

  Tom’s face had gone red with anger. “Hilary knows exactly what happened in North Carolina. I’m sure she planned the whole thing.”

  I rested a hand on his arm. “Listen, you’re exhausted. Come to my house and just… relax for an hour or two.” Even as I said the words I knew he couldn’t. The man I thought I’d known so well—a man always in control, strong, kind, generous—was showing a side I’d never seen. The past had come back to throttle him and he was angry, worried and confused.

  “Thanks, Jillian, but right now—”

  “I understand. Please know I’m with you all the way. Anything you need, well… anything. I’ll do what I can.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Right now, I need to talk to my mother. Any help you can give me with her would be much appreciated. She likes you.”

  We walked hand in hand through the squeaky wooden gate and joined Finn and the woman he called Nana.

  Karen Stewart, in her late sixties, wore a gray coat and her familiar black cloche hat. She was no longer coloring her dark hair. Silver and black strands escaped the hat and curled on her forehead and temples.

  She addressed me, not Tom. “Look where I find my boys. In the police station, of all places. What should I do with these troublemakers, Jillian?”

  “Tough question,” I said. “I’d say a meal might be in order. Can we discuss this over lunch at the diner?”

  Finn’s eyes lit up.

  I added, “An eighteen-year-old needs more than toast and milk—which is about all Finn’s eaten today.”

  “Let’s fix that,” Tom said.

  The Main Street Diner turned out to be exactly what Finn needed. He looked happy for the first time since I’d met him. The three of us watched him put away fries, three of the diner’s famous Texas chili dogs and a root beer float. Karen seemed as cheerful as he was as she nibbled on a salad and drank hot tea.

  I still didn’t understand why neither she nor Tom had ever mentioned a kid they both obviously loved, but each family has their own way of dealing with problems. After I’d finished my hamburger, I decided to quit wondering and bring up the subject.

  “I was so surprised to meet Finn,” I said. “You all care a lot about each other.”

  “We do, but Finnian’s home situation has not always allowed us to visit with each other,” Karen said. “Especially after Mr. Roth was released from prison last year. I suspect Thomas said nothing to you previously, Jillian. He certainly wouldn’t engage me in conversation about what to do concerning Finn’s home situation.”

  “This has been a little surprising,” I said.

  Tom cleared his throat. “I—I felt frozen by the system, what with Finn still being a minor and all. I’d chat with him online and then put away my thoughts. See, I know what Hilary’s capable of. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I believed even mentioning him to anyone I knew might somehow get back to her and she’d find a way to completely shut me out of his life. But now that Finn is eighteen, things will be different.”

  Finn said, “Nolan was just as bad as Mom. He wouldn’t let me talk to Nana Karen or Tom. I did anyway, though. He just didn’t know.”

  Didn’t know until you disappeared and Nolan checked your computer, I thought. “Was Mr. Roth so upset with Tom for sending him to jail he decided to punish all of you this way?”

  Finn swiped his last three French fries through a puddle of ketchup. “That’s about right.”

  Tom said, “We decided it was best not to let anyone know we were still in touch. Keep the peace, in other words.”

  “You see, Mr. Roth was extremely controlling,” Karen said. “He wouldn’t allow Hilary to talk to me either, though she called me without his knowledge on more than one occasion. I have no issue
with Hilary, even though Thomas is less, shall we say, open-minded when it comes to her.” She stared over at Tom, seated next to me in the wooden booth. “Thomas, can you explain why I had to find out via a phone call from Hilary that Finnian was in town? Oh, and I also heard you spent much of last night being interviewed by the police. Did you get all those cuts and bruises from fighting with one of the police officers for some reason?”

  “No, Mom.” Tom squeezed my knee and I rested my hand over his. “I planned on calling you to explain the minute things settled down.”

  “The newspaper said the man who died was driving your car. Did he steal it?” she asked.

  “You could say that,” Tom said.

  “How intentionally vague,” she replied. “You always think I’ll fall off the wagon if you involve me in less-than-happy aspects of your life. I won’t, Thomas. I’m stronger than you think.”

  “Maybe you are, Mom. But I don’t like upsetting you. Anything involving Finn might make you, well… overreact.”

  She looked at Finn, her eyes showing her affection for him. “Perhaps you’re right, Thomas. Did you have anything to do with the accident? Is that why the police kept you so long?”

  “There was plenty to discuss,” Tom said.

  I could tell he wasn’t about to elaborate because he might not want Karen hearing about Finn’s head injury right now. Maybe she’d be upset because Tom called on me to help Finn rather than her.

  Finn’s gaze went back and forth between Tom and Karen. “He kept the police busy to help me, Nana. When Tom saw it was Nolan who crashed the car, Tom figured he came to town looking for me. See, I left Mom and Nolan to come here.”

  Tom said, “Can we talk about something else?”

  “You ran away?” Karen said. “Oh my goodness, I don’t know what to think.”

  “I couldn’t stay there anymore, Nana. I was hoping Tom would let me live here.”

  “So much for putting this conversation on the shelf for now.” Tom sounded exasperated.

  Karen didn’t seem to hear Tom. She focused on Finn’s bruised forehead. “Did they hit you? Because if they did—”

  “No. Nothing like that,” Finn said. “I don’t know how I got hurt. Wish I did. Anyway, it’s all part of why Tom ended up talking to the police for so many hours. With Nolan dead and the gun we found in my backpack—”

  “Gun?” Karen, sounding aghast, glanced between Finn and Tom. “Was it one of your guns, Thomas?”

  “Nope. That’s all I’m saying about it, too.” Tom looked at Finn. “Please let’s not talk about any of this until we know more. Words fly faster than hummingbirds around this town. We don’t want to start rumors.”

  “I’m cool with that. But you better tell Bob, since he’s the one who found the gun to begin with,” Finn said.

  Karen blanched. “Bob? Our Bob?”

  “See, this is why I wanted to wait until I had all the facts before talking to you,” Tom said.

  Karen said, “Did you call him? If so, why in God’s good name would you do such a thing?”

  Tom held up a hand. “I haven’t figured out why Bob showed up here. But he’s at my house.”

  Karen rested her hand over her heart. “Oh my.”

  “You never liked him, did you, Nana?” Finn said. “How come?”

  She put an arm around Finn. “You know, I believe Thomas is correct. We can talk about all this later. As for Hilary, I’m certain she’s quite distressed over losing her husband. Where will she stay? I could offer to—”

  “Please don’t, Mom,” Tom said, his tone firm.

  I said, “I understand she’ll be staying at the Pink House.”

  “I take it you won’t be staying there with her, Finn?” Karen said.

  “Um, no.” Finn focused on his empty plate.

  “Then you can come to my house,” Karen said. “The place is small, but there’s always room for you.”

  “Mom, he has a dog,” Tom said.

  Karen blinked several times. “Oh. A dog. That would be a problem,” she said, obviously disappointed.

  Tom looked at Finn. “Mom’s friend Ed—you remember I told you about him?—anyway, he’s afraid of dogs.”

  “It’s okay, Nana,” Finn said. “I’ll find somewhere to stay.”

  “You are more than welcome to continue on at my place,” I said.

  “Thanks, Jillian,” Tom said, “but as soon as I get rid of Bob—which is next on my agenda—Finn can come to my house.”

  “Poor Yoshi will have to get used to yet another cat,” I said, thinking of Dashiell. I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Check this out, Finn.” I showed him my cat cam and, sure enough, Yoshi and Merlot were sleeping in the living room. “They’re not snuggling up yet, but for only one day, this is progress.”

  Finn took the phone and smiled. “This cat cam is one fine app.”

  “Tom set it up for me so I can see what my cats are doing when I’m not at home,” I said.

  Karen peered over at the display. “Toshi is cute,” she said.

  “Yoshi,” Finn said, playing with the phone to see different angles of the room. Didn’t need any instruction, I noted.

  Unfortunately I was being optimistic about Dashiell accepting a dog into his home. Tom seemed to have forgotten that Shawn Cuddahee, Allison’s husband and partner in running the Mercy Animal Sanctuary, rescued Dashiell right after he was attacked by two dogs.

  “Before I go talk to Bob, I need to pick Dashiell up from the vet—that is, if he’s ready to come home,” Tom said.

  “He is,” I said. “I called this morning and Dashiell is doing fine.”

  “Good,” Tom said. “I’ll get him after we’re done here. Boy am I looking forward to seeing my big old cat, but I think telling my brother to take a hike will be the icing on the cake.”

  “While you’re busy, perhaps Finn could come to my house for a while?” Karen said.

  “Sure,” Finn said, still fiddling with my phone. “But not for too long. Yoshi will miss me.”

  “Got any message for Bob?” Tom said to his mother.

  Her blue eyes grew frosty. “No message.”

  The silence hung like a thick cloud over all of us for several seconds. Tom broke the tension by saying, “Let’s go. Dashiell probably wants out of the vet clinic.”

  After we left the restaurant and went our separate ways, I wondered what had happened between Tom and Bob, and between Bob and his mother. No one was offering any information, but then, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.

  I drove home, the wonderful distraction of our conversation at the diner replaced by fatigue and worry. A man had been shot to death and Finn not only had a gun in his possession when we found him walking on the side of the road, he also had blood on his clothes. Candace would surely unearth something from the evidence to eliminate Finn as a suspect in Nolan Roth’s death. She had to. No way could she believe Finn was guilty of murder. As I approached my house, those thoughts slid to the back of my mind when I realized there was a car parked on the side of the road, one I didn’t recognize—an old banged-up blue sedan with South Carolina plates.

  I pulled into the driveway and stopped about halfway up. A man immediately got out of the sedan and started toward my van. He wore no sweater or jacket in this chilly weather and his striped button-down shirt was wrinkled, his jeans baggy and his long sandy hair blew around his head in the autumn wind.

  My mouth went dry. I didn’t like the looks of him.

  The man came all the way up to my car, rested both hands on the driver’s-side window and stared in at me.

  Thirteen

  On another day, I might have rolled down the window and talked to this stranger. After all, folks made wrong turns down my street all the time and needed directions. Today, however, my gut was telling me this person didn’t need directions.

  I reached for my phone on the seat next to me. Thank goodness I automatically put it close when I’m driving alone. An old habit, one I appreciate
d right now.

  “Can I help you?” I called loud enough for him to hear. I slid the arrow on the phone’s screen and pressed the phone button, ready to make a call. I was sure he’d seen me do this, but he didn’t make any move to leave.

  “They said you have my boy,” the man said.

  My stomach clenched. Fear can be a gift, I’d read, one that leads you to make the right decisions. Something about this man put me on high alert. I was just about to tap the speed dial number for Mercy PD when I heard the short blast of a car horn. In the side mirror, I saw Kara getting out of her car.

  I wanted to yell, “No,” but it was too late. The man had moved away from my van when he heard the horn, so I opened the door and got out, still clutching my phone. I couldn’t cringe in my car while Kara was confronting this stranger.

  A Belle’s Beans cup in her left hand, Kara walked up to the man and held out her right hand. “I’m Kara Hart. Who are you?”

  This is exactly the sort of thing her father would do in a touchy situation, I thought.

  The man tilted his head and stared through narrowed eyes, ignoring her hand. “They told me the name was Jillian Hart, not Kara.”

  She dropped her hand. “Who told you?” she said evenly.

  Always the questioner, Kara’s even tone not only quieted my nerves, but seemed to do the same for this man.

  His expression grew less wary. “The people in the diner. They said I just missed you, that Finn was with you.”

  Kara briefly looked my way and said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Rory Gannon. Now, where’s my boy?” he said.

  Finn’s biological father. How did the so-called phantom end up in Mercy? This can’t be a coincidence.

  “Kara,” I said, trying to match her cool amicability. “This is Finn’s father.”