by Morgana Best
I did not have long to wait, or so it seemed to me at the time. The morning had been busy with one customer hard on the previous customer’s heels, and sometimes I had even had five customers at once. It was close to lunchtime before I had a break in customers, and I thought I should pop into the back room to grab some lunch. I wanted to have a nice lunch of Venezuelan Criollo chocolate. I had eaten five when I heard the front door open. I hurried out to see Borage clutching a bunch of red long stemmed roses.
His expression was one of embarrassment. He held them out. “I know it’s not jewelry, and I can hardly bring you chocolates, but I thought you might like the roses.”
I stared at the roses in confusion, but before I could say anything, Borage continued. “I wanted to hurry back to tell you this. I felt so bad for not telling you sooner. I thought everyone in town knew, but that was so silly of me.”
I wished he would just come to the point. I nervously eyed the door, wondering if a customer would enter. If they did, I would certainly ignore them.
“She’s my sister-in-law,” he blurted out.
I tried to process the information. Why was his sister-in-law following him around, clinging to his arm?
Borage must have anticipated my question, because he hurried to explain. “She’s been having problems with my brother. She said he’s going through a mid-life crisis, and she wanted me to talk sense into him.”
I hadn’t expected that. “And have you?”
He nodded. “I think so. She actually left him, but I think everything seems better now. She hasn’t called me for at least twelve hours.” His expression was relieved. “Anyway,” he continued, “I realized that you must have thought, well…”
“I thought she was your girlfriend,” I said, and then instantly regretted my words. I would really have to think before I spoke.
He slapped himself on his forehead. “Please forgive me, Narel? That was so silly of me. Whatever must you have thought of me?” He shook his head, and then held out the roses to me.
They were beautiful. Even the black and white wrapping paper with the exotic looking ribbon was gorgeous. “Thank you.”
“Dinner this Friday night? I promise not to bring my sister-in-law.” He chuckled.
“I’d love to,” I said, clutching the roses to me. “And I promise not to get hauled away by the police for questioning.” Yet as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was not a promise I could keep.
Chapter 24
I was on cloud nine. My chocolate store was doing good business, and Borage didn’t have a girlfriend after all. What’s more, he really seemed to like me. Even Mongrel was starting to come out of his shell. While I didn’t think he’d ever be entirely sociable, at least he was spending more time out of his carrier basket and even allowing me to stroke him at times. Of course, I always stopped as soon as he growled. Now I just had to be cleared of being a suspect in the murder case, and life would be just perfect.
I was looking forward to a quiet night at home to process everything that had happened. I planned to watch Dance Moms and eat chocolate pasta with a chocolate hazelnut cream sauce, dark chocolate shavings, and chocolate coated blueberries. After all, fruit is good for you.
I ate the pasta, and then wondered what to have for dessert. Just as I did so, Mongrel growled so loudly that his carrier basket shook. I spun around, and to my horror, there was a man standing in front of me. I screamed and stepped backward against the countertop. I wondered strangely why he was wearing a thick coat.
“How did you get in?” I asked him. I was so terrified that I thought I would faint.
He laughed roughly. “I have skills. Don’t you recognize me? I’ve been watching your house for some time now.”
I was shaking with fear. I tried to force myself to take a deep breath. He did look somewhat familiar, and at first I thought maybe I had gone to school with him. Then again, he did look one of the suspect’s photos on Carl’s whiteboards, but I was too terrified to think straight. Finally, I said, “No.”
He took a step closer to me. “Todd Cambridge.”
I shook violently. “Todd Cambridge?” I squeaked. There in front of me, was my main suspect in the murder of Peter Prentiss. Why was he in my house? There couldn’t be a good reason. I shook even more. He looked like the stereotypical criminal, and even meaner than he had on the internet. “Did you kill Peter Prentiss?”
He snorted. “Of course. I was looking for someone to frame for the murder, and I found out that Clint Stockland had been in the next hospital room to you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out that you were living in the same town as Peter Prentiss. That was when I had the idea to set up you and Clint Stockland to take the rap for the murder.”
“Why me?”
He pulled a gun out of his pocket and waved at me. “I’ve already told you. You were the ideal suspect for the police. I already explained that, just a second ago.” His tone was patronizing, as if I were a small child who couldn’t quite understand what he was saying.
In fact, I actually couldn’t quite understand what he was saying, and that was because of the blind fear washing over me in waves.
“You’re going to write a note,” he said.
“What kind of note?” I asked him.
“I’ll dictate it. Go and get pen and paper, and don’t try anything funny because I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked him. I gripped the countertop for support.
“Yes,” he said in a matter of fact voice, “after you write your own suicide note confessing to Prentiss’s murder.”
I had watched a lot of crime shows on TV, and I had always wondered why people write their own suicide notes when they knew that someone was about to murder them and fake their suicide. Were they trying to buy time? In my case, buying time would not help me. Carl wasn’t coming over that night and I wasn’t expecting anyone at all. I was on my own. Aloud I said, “Since you’re going to kill me anyway, I won’t write the note.”
He raised the gun. “Write the note or I’ll shoot you.” His voice was still calm yet deeply menacing.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I’m going to die anyway, then I won’t write the note. Then your suicide plan won’t work at all, and if you shoot me, everyone will know that I was murdered and didn’t commit suicide.”
He stared at me with his mouth open.
“If you shoot me,” I continued, “the police will know it’s not suicide and your plan will be thwarted.”
Todd Cambridge looked surprised. Clearly he hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll shoot you at close range and then put the gun in your hand,” he said, more to himself than to me, it seemed.
“But at any rate I’ll struggle, and the police will see there were signs of a struggle and know it wasn’t suicide, especially since I won’t be writing a note.”
Cambridge put the gun back in his jeans pocket. “I’m going to hang you,” he said in a deadly calm voice. “I’m going to kill you anyway, and hanging hurts a lot less than shooting. It’s much faster. It’s your choice.”
I felt the blood rush to my face and I thought I would faint right there on the spot.
He pulled a rope from his oversized coat and held it in front of him.
The next thing I saw was a flash of ginger fur, and then the screaming started. I will never get those sounds out of my head. I saw fur flying and then blood. I had to avert my eyes.
All of a sudden Cambridge was on his back, writhing and screaming, and Mongrel was making the sound he makes when he kills his food.
I backed away, and reached for my phone. I was in a daze and shaking violently, but I managed to call emergency. “I need police and ambulance immediately,” I said, and gave them my name and address. I glanced back at the scene, and then wished I hadn’t. “A man has been seriously injured and there’s blood loss.”
“Please stay on the line, madam, until help arrives. What are his injurie
s?”
“It’s Todd Cambridge. He just came here to murder me, and he confessed to the murder of Detective Peter Prentiss,” I said breathlessly.
There was a slight hesitation, and then the voice asked, “What are his injuries?”
“My cat attacked him,” I said, realizing that sounded strange, but what choice did I have?
“Madam, what are his injuries?” the voice asked again.
“Um, um,” I stammered.
“What part of him is affected?”
I hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather not say.”
“Is he bleeding?”
I hazarded another glance. “Yes, quite a lot,” I said grimly, as my stomach turned.
“Madam, we need to know his specific injuries, so the paramedics can be prepared when they arrive.”
I nodded, although no one could see me. “Well, if you must know, it’s his, um, err, unmentionables.”
“Could you repeat that please, madam?”
“Um, you know, his unmentionables,” I said. I felt my face flush beet red.
The next half hour was a blur. The paramedics arrived, let out a collective gasp, managed to stem the bleeding, and left with a heavily sedated Todd on a gurney. Their faces were white and drawn. I figured they had never seen that type of cat-inflicted injury before.
As the paramedics wheeled him past the newly-arrived detectives, Todd screamed, “I did it! I murdered Prentiss! Don’t let the cat get me!” again and again. The detectives appeared to be confused, and were no less confused after I explained what had happened.
Chapter 25
“Hooray!” The three of us cheered in unison. Mongrel seemed unconcerned, opting to look at us with the most unimpressed stare he could muster. Carl, Borage, and I were sitting at the dining table. Mongrel was sitting close to us, surrounded by tiny gifts, all neatly wrapped.
I had served everybody chocolate ganache pancakes with blueberry compote. It didn’t contain as much chocolate as I would have liked, but I thought something savory would be more suitable for guests. I’d spent the time to make them look as great as they tasted; each of us had a perfect stack of thick pancakes plated up in front of us. In turn, each pancake had the chocolate ganache sandwiched between it and the pancake below it, creating a kind of sweet burger. The blueberry compote was served on top, cascading down and over the sides to pool at the base as the pancakes absorbed what liquid they could.
Mongrel, of course, had an altogether different dish. I wanted to serve him something special, but as he only ate the most expensive cat food I could find as it was, I decided just to give him extra. He attacked his food with relish as the rest of us ate quietly.
I had decided to throw Mongrel a party for saving my life. Because I hadn’t thrown him a party the first time, this one had to be extra special, which meant gifts and extra food. Of course, the party also served as a way to wind down after everything that had happened, but I wanted to make sure the focus was on Mongrel. I felt he deserved it.
“This is amazing, Narel,” Borage managed to say between mouthfuls.
“Thank Mongrel,” I said, smiling. “Err, not that he made the pancakes, but this is a party in his honor. Make sure you let him know he’s appreciated!” I was worried that the guests would be under the impression that this was a party to celebrate Todd Cambridge being arrested, but I earnestly just wanted to celebrate Mongrel.
“Don’t worry! I know, I know,” Borage said with a laugh. “I even brought him a gift.” He motioned to a stack of neatly wrapped presents sitting on the table.
“What about you Carl?” I asked. “What did you bring him?”
“My undying gratitude,” Carl said as he furiously shoveled pancakes into his mouth. When he noticed my disappointed stare, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “And also some gifts, Narel, of course,” he said as he pulled out a medium-sized box. I cheered and took it from him, adding it to the growing pile.
A knock sounded from the door. I quickly finished my pancakes and hurried over to it, peering through the peep hole to see who it could be. Paula Prentiss was standing outside, waiting patiently. I quickly opened the door and welcomed her inside with a smile. I had taken a liking to the woman for some reason.
“Thanks, Narel,” she replied with a smile of her own. She politely greeted Carl and Borage, though both were too busy eating to say much. Mongrel meowed loudly at her before he resumed eating.
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’ve got your keys. One second.” I went to my laundry room to fetch them and returned quickly. “Here they are. I’ve scrubbed them thoroughly, and left them inside this bag for you.” I presented Paula with a small, clear plastic bag with her keys inside, though she seemed reluctant to take them.
“That’s, uh, thanks Narel,” Paula stammered. “Maybe just leave them here and I’ll get them on the way out.” I happily obliged, dropping the bag on the small table that was sitting by the door. “How are you?” she asked with a concerned look. “I heard what happened. It all sounds so scary.”
“I’m okay,” I said honestly. “It’s actually not the first time somebody’s attacked me like that. It’s also not the first time Mongrel’s saved my life.” I motioned to the ever-fattening cat, who was now happily napping in a spot of sunlight.
“Oh, I understand,” Paula said, though her expression led me to believe that she really didn’t. “Is it your birthday?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I realized I’d invited her here without explaining the occasion.
“Actually, it’s a party for Mongrel,” I beamed. “For saving my life again, you know.”
“Oh,” Paula said blankly. “And Mongrel is that the cat?”
“Yes.” Paula seemed to be somewhat confused about the entire thing, which I attributed to a lack of chocolate. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked.
“Yes, sure! Thanks,” she replied, apparently relaxing a little.
“I hope you like chocolate,” I said with a laugh. As if anybody couldn’t like chocolate. Paula sat down next to Carl, and the three at the table started talking amongst themselves. I decided it was time to get out the white chocolate parfait with Kahlua. I’d made a large batch last night and had it freezing for hours, but I knew it would be ready by now.
I got out the parfait and served it into four large glasses, though they were almost closer to being bowls. I spooned some Kahlua over the top, creating an appearance almost like a glazed cappuccino, only significantly more delicious.
“Oh my goodness,” Carl said as I came out of the kitchen with the parfaits. “Narel, I don’t know if I can manage any more at the moment,” he admitted, though he looked as though he changed his mind as soon as the parfait was actually in front of him.
“This looks amazing, thank you,” Paula said with a smile, digging in immediately. Borage also thanked me politely, though like Carl he took a few moments before he started eating.
Another knock on the door caused me to jump, though I was fairly sure I knew who it was. I looked through the peep hole again and smiled, opening the door immediately. “I wasn’t sure either of you would come,” I admitted with a grin.
Rieker and Clyde smiled back. “Couldn’t miss a party like this,” Clyde said as he entered.
“Hello, Miss Myers,” Rieker said with his usual gruff attitude. He didn’t seem unfriendly, though I couldn’t help but wonder if he could even stop acting tough if he tried. “I’m afraid we can’t stay long,” he explained as he followed Clyde inside. I closed the door behind them and followed them in as the two detectives greeted everybody else.
“How are you holding up, Narel?” Clyde asked me politely as I offered him a home made chocolate caramel bar.
“I’m okay, thanks to Mongrel,” I said, nodding to Mongrel as he meowed his annoyances at me.
“I don’t mean to make this about business,” Rieker said, though his tone suggested the opposite. “But what actually happened? I mean, we’ve read the reports—we wrote them!—but it just sounds so
...strange.”
“Well, it was strange,” I admitted. “As you know, Todd Cambridge turned up and was trying to force me to write a suicide note. In the end, Mongrel stopped him from hurting me. And probably from ever having children,” I explained, somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry if this upsets you, Paula.”
She shook her head. “Peter and I were planning to divorce,” she said, “and we didn’t much like each other any more. Not that I wanted him to be murdered, of course. It’s just that I’m not mourning for him as much as I would for a friend. I am glad his murderer has been apprehended—don’t get me wrong.”
“Well, I’m afraid we didn’t bring any gifts,” Clyde said in an abrupt change of subject as he eyed the pile of presents sitting beside Mongrel, who was back to napping peacefully. I was happy that he was so relaxed, despite being surrounded by so many people.
“Speak for yourself,” Rieker said, glaring at Clyde. Rieker produced a small box and added it to the pile, giving Clyde a smug grin as he leaned back in his chair. “You shouldn’t arrive at a celebration without a gift, Detective Clyde. It’s rude and unprofessional.”
Clyde looked at his feet, seemingly disappointed in himself. “It’s okay, Detective Clyde, really,” I said with a smile.
“Well, Narel, I did get you a gift,” Detective Clyde replied with a smile. “I opted not to unlawfully arrest you while you were a suspect.”
I laughed. “Oh, gee, thanks. I hope I get that gift every year.”
The detectives stayed and ate for several more minutes before politely excusing themselves. It cheered me up to be able to speak to them so informally, and it was especially nice to see that Rieker wasn’t always trying to arrest me for something. Then again, maybe he was just a master of the good cop/bad cop routine.
“Gift time!” I exclaimed loudly, frightening everybody in the room. I sat down at the table and carefully passed the package that Rieker had brought to Mongrel. Mongrel eyed it suspiciously for a minute before deciding to attack it viciously, ripping the box to pieces in the process. Inside was a wind-up mouse toy, though Mongrel was too busy fighting the remains of the box to notice it.