The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon citm-4

by Leann Sweeney

  We walked farther down the hall. My office is a small room and we were all close together until Hilary directed Karen behind my desk and told her to sit. She went around and stood over her shoulder.

  She pointed the gun at me and said, “Have him sit on the floor and you tie him up. Tight. No fooling around. I’ll check your work.”

  Finn was breathing hard, but I knew he was seething inside. I only hoped he could think clearly through the rage.

  Hilary said, “Hands first. Behind his back.”

  I hoped Hilary Roth had just made her first mistake.

  Finn glared at his mother as he put his hands behind his back. I began to tie them together, and when I did, I slipped the phone from his pocket and shoved it under his right butt cheek, making sure his fingers could reach it. I came around and bound his feet under Hilary’s watchful eye.

  Karen, still sounding petrified, said, “Is this really necessary, Hilary? We’ve cooperated completely and—”

  “Shut up,” Hilary snapped. I could see pain in her eyes and glanced at her wrist. The swelling had grown. She was definitely injured.

  And perhaps vulnerable.

  Hilary walked over to Finn and me. “Stand on the other side of him where I can see you,” she said to me.

  I wasn’t close enough to the bookcase where a heavy hardback might be reachable and useful to bash this horrid woman over the head.

  Holding both the gun and her stare on me, she tested Finn’s bonds with her left hand. With each tug, I heard a sharp intake of air. She was definitely hurting.

  She then walked back around to face the computer. Poor Karen was visibly trembling now and I sure hoped she didn’t have a heart condition.

  “Come over here,” Hilary said to me.

  I did so, but as I passed the open door, I saw four cats sitting by the entry, two on either side. By the time I made it to the desk, Syrah and Merlot were already in the room.

  “More cats?” Hilary practically shouted. “What are you? A crazy cat lady? Get them out of here.”

  But before I could make a move, Chablis and Dashiell entered the room, too. I said, “Do you know how hard it is to herd cats?”

  Syrah, my bravest boy, made a graceful leap onto the desk from at least five feet away. Karen was so startled, the wheeling chair she sat in moved back about a foot.

  “Get it off of the desk,” Hilary said through clenched teeth.

  I gathered Syrah in my arms, afraid for him now. He’d jump on this woman given half the chance and she wouldn’t hesitate to throw him across the room.

  Hilary said, “Tell her how to boot up your computer—and hurry. I’ve wasted too much time here already.” Hilary was definitely distracted by Syrah, whose low growl directed her way sounded ominous.

  But I noticed with a furtive glance in Finn’s direction, the other three cats were behind him, their interest in the quilt bindings obvious. Or perhaps their interest was in Finn’s fingers moving on my phone. I sure hoped so.

  I set Syrah on the floor and gave Karen directions on how to boot up my computer and click on the browser. Unfortunately, her hands were shaking and she was so upset, the process took far longer than the impatient Hilary could tolerate. She kept muttering, “Hurry up, old woman.”

  I said, “I could handle the transfer if I had Karen’s account password.”

  “You keep thinking I’m some clueless Southern belle,” Hilary said. “If I let you do this, I doubt I’d end up with a red cent. Karen can do this if she’d just concentrate.”

  “Hard to concentrate when someone is waving a gun around,” Finn said.

  From where I was standing, I could detect movement behind him. But was it from the cats inspecting the bindings or from Finn using my phone?

  Hilary removed the paper with Karen’s account information from her skirt pocket with difficulty. Her wrist might actually be broken.

  She set the paper on the desk next to Karen and said, “You told me at your house you have an online account.”

  “Yes,” Karen said, her voice wavering, “but Ed always helps me get to the site. I don’t think I can do this without him.”

  “You can and you will,” Hilary said. “If you don’t, Finn might not make it out of this house alive.”

  My growing anger turned to fury with this latest verbal assault on her own child. It made me sick. “You’ve gotten the browser up,” I said to Karen, hoping my anger didn’t spill into my tone. “I can read you what you need to type into the bar at the top of page.”

  The Web site URL was at the bottom of the crumpled paper and I picked it up. I slowly read each letter and punctuation mark and Karen typed with one trembling finger. After what seemed an eternity, she leaned back in the chair and looked up at Karen. “There it is. This is the screen I always see.”

  “You’ll probably need a password,” I said, glancing at Finn. He definitely was concentrating on something himself.

  “I keep them written down in my little day planner,” she said. “It’s in my purse.”

  “You don’t remember your password?” Hilary said.

  “N-no. Let me get it.” Karen opened her bag and I noticed Hilary’s breathing had quickened. This drawn-out process was wearing on her patience—or maybe her pain.

  I sure didn’t like our chances with an impatient, gun-wielding sociopath in the room. It certainly wouldn’t make any sense to kill us—how would she get her money then? But could I count on this terrible person to think through what she was doing? No way.

  A good thirty seconds later, Karen entered the password. But because of added levels of security, she had to answer several questions before her account finally appeared on the screen—all one million plus dollars.

  Syrah had been sitting by Finn, watching the other cats, but suddenly he snapped to catlike attention, listening to something. He ran out of the room and the three other felines rushed after him.

  They’d heard something.

  But Hilary was paying no attention. She’d told Karen to find the “transfer funds” page, then had to point it out with her left hand.

  Karen clicked on it.

  I was paying close attention to Hilary’s face. She’d reached the money page and was about to make herself rich. That’s clearly all she was thinking about.

  Though the gun was still pointed in my direction, she was honed in on the computer, not me.

  I glanced over at Finn and he gave me a slow nod.

  I pounced like a cat.

  With my one hand I grasped her right wrist and pointed the gun to the ceiling. With my other hand I reached around and took hold of her injured left wrist. I twisted as hard as I could.

  Hilary screamed in pain, but she was pumped full of adrenaline and began to wrench free.

  I feared she’d kill Finn.

  Then I felt a surge of my own. But I didn’t have to struggle too long.

  “Drop the gun,” said Candace from the doorway. She held her own weapon in two hands and it was pointed at Hilary’s head.

  But she remained engaged in our horrific dance, swaying back and forth, trying to free herself.

  Then Tom appeared out of nowhere. He hit Hilary’s gun hand with his joined fists so hard I thought he’d broken her other wrist. The weapon fell from her grip and toppled onto the desk.

  Candace grabbed the gun and stashed it in the back of her utility belt. Then she helped restrain Hilary, while I slipped from beneath struggling bodies and went to Finn’s side.

  The two of them pulled Hilary away from the desk and into the hall.

  “You okay, Karen?” I said, as I untied Finn’s hands.

  She seemed frozen, her face gray, her eyes wide. “I—I… Yes.”

  Finn grinned as he rubbed his wrists. “It may be an old word, but I can’t think of a better one. That was awesome, Jillian.”

  “Thanks. I’ve never been in a cat fight before.” I smiled, relief and the remaining adrenaline making me feel nearly euphoric.

  Finn laughed
.

  I cocked my head at him. “What’d you do to get help?”

  Finn picked up my phone. He tapped a button and played a video. At first it wasn’t exactly clear what I was seeing—but then I recognized tied fingers and many cat paws swiping and pulling at the quilt bindings tied around Finn’s hands.

  He said, “Since the call to Tom was the last one made, it was easy to send him the video. I was sure he’d be smart enough to figure out something was wrong here. I mean, we had to be here with these cats, right?”

  “But you did this without looking?” I said, dumbfounded.

  He said, “Come on, Jillian. What self-respecting kid my age doesn’t know how to work a smartphone practically blindfolded?”

  “Ah yes,” I said with a laugh. “‘Geek’ isn’t a derogatory word anymore.”

  Thirty-One

  Finn and I helped a shaken Karen walk out of my office. Tom met us to warn us Hilary was still in the house.

  Karen stopped in her tracks. “I can’t see her right now. Can I wait until she’s gone?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I have the perfect spot for you.”

  We took her to my sewing room, and she sat in the most comfortable chair in the house. As soon as she was settled, she released an audible sigh. Chablis appeared from who knows where and jumped in her lap. At times, my girl kitty could heal by her presence alone. Karen began to stroke her gently.

  Tom addressed Finn. “You want to stay here with Nana?”

  “I will, if you want me to,” he said. “But I’d sure love to see my mother leave here in a cop car.”

  I was glad to see Finn angry. He needed that anger to help him deal with what he’d been through. Both his mother and father had left him with a tragic legacy, and I knew he’d need our help in dealing with it in the years ahead.

  Karen said, “Go, Finn. I need the time to collect myself, anyway. Seems appropriate to say I’m still as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  I reassured her she would be safe in here and we all went to the living room.

  Hilary sat on my couch, her right wrist cuffed to the end table leg. She had her head down, hair surrounding her face.

  The look I gave Candace must have betrayed my confusion because Candace said, “Her wrist is so swollen I need a zip tie rather than cuffs. Morris is getting one from the squad car.”

  “Why, Hilary?” Tom said. “How could you do this to your own son? What kind of monster are you?” All the bitterness I’d heard in his voice over the last four days was gone. He just wanted to know everything—and so did I.

  She jerked her head up. “You don’t have a clue. Do you, Tom?”

  Candace held up a hand like a traffic cop and quickly said, “Hilary Roth, you have the right to remain silent…”

  When Candace finished reciting the Miranda rights, Hilary said, “No lawyer can help me now. Besides, I hate lawyers. A lawyer and judge put a kid I never wanted in my home. Made my life hell.”

  Tom gave Hilary a bewildered stare. Finn chose to look at the floor.

  Candace took a small tape recorder from her pocket. “I will repeat your rights, Mrs. Roth.” She clicked on the recorder and held it in Hilary’s direction. She went through the Miranda rights again and said, “Do you understand these rights?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I said I don’t want a lawyer. I want out of here. Out of this house and away from these idiots.”

  “We have a jail cell ready and waiting,” Candace said. “Just have to make sure we take you there in a fashion worthy of a person who murdered two people.”

  Just then, Yoshi started barking—a hoarse, faint sound. He’d yelped away his voice, poor thing. No wonder we hadn’t heard him since being herded to my office for Hilary’s desperate attempt to get her hands on the money. I wasn’t a financial wizard, but I truly believed her ploy never would have worked. Her desperation to get her hands on the money had obliterated all logic.

  Finn looked at Candace. “Can I let Yoshi out?”

  “Sure. If the cats don’t mind, that is,” she said. She almost smiled, but I was sure she wanted to remain professional—and what had gone on in Mercy over the last week was no laughing matter.

  Dashiell was lingering close to Tom and my two boys were sitting side by side at the far end of the couch, their eyes trained on Hilary. They conveyed the disdain only cats are capable of offering with a simple look.

  Tom swooped up Dashiell when Finn opened the pantry door. Yoshi did a few jack-in-the-box jumps. But when Finn opened his arms, he didn’t do his usual leap. He raced into the living room—and straight for Hilary.

  Before anyone could make a move, Yoshi clamped onto her skirt and began to shake his head and growl. Finn ran to stop the assault, but good old Yoshi managed to come away with a mouthful of gray gabardine before Finn pulled the dog away.

  I smiled and so did Tom.

  “Keep your dog away from me,” Hilary said, visibly shaken.

  “I’ve heard you say those words plenty of times,” Finn said. Yoshi’s leash was still attached and Finn held tightly to it. “I’ll keep my dog away from you while you tell me the truth for once. What did you mean about lawyers and judges?”

  “Maybe this can wait for another time,” Candace said, giving me a warning glance. “Where the heck is Morris anyway?” She turned on her two-way radio and asked him the question directly.

  He replied, sounding as grouchy as usual. “Can’t find the zip ties. Where the heck did you put them?”

  “You put them somewhere, remember?” Candace said. “Check the fingerprint kit or the camera case.”

  “Ah. The camera case,” he said.

  “Bring a Miranda waiver while you’re at it.” Candace switched off her radio. “We’ll be out of here right soon.”

  “No. I want to tell Finn what he needs to know,” Hilary said. She sounded haughty again, as if she wasn’t sitting in my living room handcuffed to a table.

  Candace said, “We’ll take your statement at the station, relay all information to Tom and your son—”

  “He’s not my son,” Hilary said. Her smug smile made me want to rip a chunk of fabric off her skirt myself.

  A heavy silence followed.

  “What are you talking about?” Tom finally said.

  “I married Rory when Finn was a year old. Then Mr. Mental Case gets himself sent to prison. Since his birth mother was dead, the court said he was mine until Rory was out of jail. I did get welfare money and food stamps because of him on and off through the years. Kept me from starving in between jobs. I considered him my paycheck.”

  I glanced at Finn, concerned for him. No matter what she’d done, how cruel she’d been, she was the only mother he’d known.

  But he was nodding, a small smile playing on his lips. “You don’t know how many nights I went to bed wishing you weren’t my mother. Guess dreams do come true.” He turned, and with Yoshi at his side, started for the hall. He would need time, I knew. Time to heal from her last verbal assault.

  “Wait,” Tom said.

  Finn looked back over his shoulder. “It’s all good, man,” Finn said. “Right now, Nana Karen could use some company.”

  Turned out we all ended up down at Mercy PD, answering questions for official statements. Even Karen, who was still so shaken by what had transpired, Candace asked the paramedics who’d splinted Hilary’s wrist to check her out, too. Karen finally shooed them away, saying she needed time and she’d be fine, but promised to see her family doctor the following day.

  We took her home late in the evening. Her car, the one she drove over to my house with Hilary, was still parked in front of my place. Karen didn’t want Ed to learn what had happened from police officers. He would hear it from her in person. We left her in Ed’s loving care to explain.

  Famished, we drove to the Main Street Diner and settled into a booth near the back. Word was out and folks were already beginning to stare at us and the new kid in town.

  Tom and I
watched Finn enjoy his food, which was more fun than eating my own chili burger and cheese fries. The kid could put away a mountain of chow. It would be back to salads and yogurt for me tomorrow. But tonight, we celebrated.

  Once Finn seemed satiated, he looked at Tom and me, sitting side by side, and said, “You two like each other, huh? I mean really like each other.”

  Tom looked at me and smiled. “Yeah. We do.”

  “Why don’t you show it, then?” He smiled. “I mean, I see the looks you give each other. Kids at school hang all over each other when the hormones are raging.”

  My cheeks heated up. Hormones raging? It was so much more.

  Tom said, “Maybe we don’t hang all over each other because we’re not in high school.”

  “Doesn’t sound like as much fun. I’ve never had a girlfriend, but I think about it. A lot,” Finn said.

  “Seems like you’ll be free to find a girlfriend once all this trouble is behind you,” I said.

  Finn’s expression grew serious and he pushed his almost empty plate away. “This bad stuff has been going on a long time. I saw her leave in the police car like I wanted, but it wasn’t enough. I still see her face. Still hear her voice threatening me and Jillian and poor Nana. Still see her face the times I asked her to take me somewhere for school or give me lunch money. She really did hate me.”

  “Time heals,” I said quietly. “But I think you should talk to someone—you know, like a shrink.”

  Tom said, “He’ll do fine. Guys are different. We don’t need to talk about every little thing.”

  “Every little thing?” I said.

  “Finn’s tough. He chose to be smart and come here to Mercy,” Tom said. “Problem solved after a tough week. A woman who deserves it, goes to jail.”

  Finn looked at Tom for a moment. “Would I be less of a guy if I did want to talk to someone? You know, someone who knows about stuff like I went through with… her.”

  For the briefest moment, I saw Tom’s eyes glisten. Then he blinked back the emotion. “You’ll never be less of a guy no matter what you decide. In fact, you’re the bravest kid I know. You want to talk this out, I get it. We’ll make it happen.”