That was what money did, Sean reflected. It fixed things. It made problems disappear. But not in this case. There hadn’t been enough money to fix whatever it was that had sent Susie to her grave. And the way she’d died. Sean clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth while he thought about that. Stabbing someone like that indicated rage. At least in Sean’s experience, it did.
He stroked his chin as he pictured Old Lady Connor, with her white hair and her English country house clothes. She would be turning over in her grave if she could see her place now, between the cat statues and the dandelions and the speedwell that were taking over the grass, never mind that the grass needed mowing and weeds were beginning to pop up in the flower beds.
It was amazing how fast weeds grew, Sean reflected as he directed Marvin to the area where the tent had been.
“What about the crime-scene tape?” Marvin asked. It was still looped around small posts, adding a bright note of color to the landscape greens.
“What about it? Drive through it,” Sean instructed.
Marvin looked at him. “I don’t think we should.”
“It’ll be fine,” Sean assured him. “The worst that can happen is that we’ll be arrested.”
“Arrested?” Marvin squeaked.
Sean told himself he had to stop teasing Marvin. The problem was it was so much fun. “I’m kidding, Marvin.”
Marvin jammed on the brakes. “My father would kill me if I got arrested.”
“You’re not going to be.” Sean raised his right hand. “I swear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Sean told him, trying—and failing—to keep from raising his voice. “Why would I lie to you?”
“I guess you wouldn’t,” Marvin conceded after thinking about the answer a minute too long for Sean’s taste.
“You have to learn to relax,” Sean said as Marvin started the car back up.
Marvin just grunted and kept driving.
When they got to within two feet of where the tent had been, Sean had Marvin stop the car, and he got out. He wished he could have seen the tent when it was up, as it would have given him a better sense of things, but the rental company had finally come and collected it and the chairs and the tables. The only reminder of what had happened was the crime-scene tape standing sentinel. Oh well. I’ll just have to make do with what I have, Sean told himself. He took a couple of steps, halted, and studied the scene in front of him, re-creating the day of the wedding in his mind.
According to Libby, two of the tent’s flaps had not been secured: the one in the back through which the wedding party had come in and the one behind the altar through which Mrs. Van Trumpet had entered. That flap had opened onto a large field that led down to a grove of trees. Unlike today, the grass would have been dry, but like today, everything would have been in full bloom and the air would have been thick with birdsong. He watched a hawk soaring on the thermals. Marvin joined him.
“What are we looking for?” Marvin asked.
Sean shook his head. He didn’t know. “I just want to get a picture of the scene,” he explained. “So,” he went on, thinking aloud, “the cats were there”—he pointed to where the table that held the presents had been—“when Susie opened the package with the mice, and the cats scattered into the field and the forest. Then Susie collapsed and went back to the house, and in the time it took to round up the cats, someone went into the house and killed her.”
Marvin nodded. “That’s what Libby said.”
“Here’s my question.”
Marvin waited.
“How did whoever released the mice know that they’d run outside the tent, that they’d go into the fields, once they set them free?”
“I don’t know,” Marvin allowed.
Sean lit another cigarette. “Think about it. There’s no reason to think that the people at the wedding wouldn’t have scooped up the cats and that the festivities wouldn’t have continued.”
“So, what are you saying?” Marvin asked.
“I’m saying that Susie’s murderer didn’t know chaos would ensue, didn’t know that the wedding would be ruined and that Susie would go back to the house.”
“Maybe they had a different plan and took advantage of the situation,” Marvin said. “Maybe they improvised.”
“Possible,” Sean conceded. He took another puff of his cigarette and flicked the ashes onto the grass. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Whoever killed Susie wasn’t a professional, that’s for sure,” Sean said.
“Why do you say that?” Marvin asked.
“A number of reasons.” And Sean proceeded to list them, ending with the package Libby and Bernie had received.
“I don’t get the last one,” Marvin said.
“It’s simple,” Sean explained. “The more you do, the more traces you leave, the more chance you’ll be discovered.” He pointed to the house. “Come on,” he said. “Enough speculation. I want to look at the actual crime scene.”
Chapter 23
Marvin turned his vehicle around, headed up to the house, and parked in the driveway.
“Here goes nothing,” Sean said as he got out of the car.
Marvin watched Sean walk up the driveway, climb the three steps to the porch, and ring the doorbell. After a minute went by and no one answered the door, Sean rang the bell again. After another minute had passed, Sean used the knocker. It was a big brass thing shaped like a lion’s head, and it made a loud thudding sound—as if someone was storming the castle—when he hit it against the door. Still no one came.
“Should we go?” Marvin called hopefully from his vehicle. “It doesn’t seem as if anyone is here.” Please, God, let that be the case, he said to himself.
“Give it a little more time,” Sean answered as he started walking around to the back of the house. Someone was home. He knew that because there were two cars parked in the driveway.
“Hello,” he cried as he followed the brick path around to the back of the house.
He’d gotten halfway around when the front door opened. There was a slight creak. Sean heard it and turned around in time to see a woman who looked like Bernie’s description of Grace step out onto the landing. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her red hair was pushed up in a bun on top of her head.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her eyelashes and eyebrows faded into her face. Sean decided she looked thirteen. He hoped she didn’t know who he was. In fact, he was counting on it. Otherwise, what he was about to do wouldn’t work. Of course, he could always come clean and tell her who he was, but he figured he might get more information this way.
“Yes?” she said, the expression on her face indicating she didn’t know who he was.
Excellent, Sean thought as he smiled his most charming smile and retraced his steps. When he was standing in front of Grace, he said, “I hope you don’t mind my coming around like this, but someone told me you had some Russian blue kittens for sale.”
“How odd,” Grace said, looking puzzled. “I don’t know why they’d say that.”
“You mean you don’t, Miss . . .”
“Grace,” Grace said quickly. “Grace Abrams.”
“The person I was talking to said that you did.” Sean looked embarrassed. “They told me that . . . you know . . . after your aunt’s unfortunate demise, you were . . . downsizing.”
Grace snorted and folded her hands over her chest. “Well, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but they’re wrong. There are other breeders,” Grace told him. “Why don’t you try those?”
“I hear yours are the best.”
“My aunt certainly thought so,” Grace said.
Sean looked bereft. “Can I at least come in and at least look at the kitties?” he asked, his voice wistful. “Just in case you change your mind at some point in the future.”
“You can come in and look if you want, but we can’t sell them. We’d be in trouble if we did,” Grace told him. “We can stay here only a
s long as the cats do. When they go, so do we.”
“Kind of like the apes and Gibraltar,” Sean commented.
Grace looked puzzled. “Gibraltar?”
Sean explained. “There’s a legend that when the apes leave Gibraltar, so do the English.”
“Where’s Gibraltar?” Grace asked. “Is that, like, down south?”
“Not quite,” Sean said. Didn’t they teach geography these days? he wondered as he bent down to pet a Russian blue that had snuck out the door and was weaving in and out of Sean’s legs.
“No, no, Sasha,” Grace told the cat as she scooped her up and began rubbing her ears. “They always want to get out,” she explained.
“Who wouldn’t?” Sean noted. “It’s an exciting world out there.”
Grace indicated the door with a nod of her head. “Are you coming in or not?”
“Coming in,” Sean said. He lowered his voice. “This is embarrassing, but could I possibly use your facilities, as well?” He gave an apologetic shrug. “The indignities of getting old, but then, the other choice isn’t much better, is it?”
“I suppose not,” Grace said.
As he entered, Sean looked back at Marvin. He was sitting with his head in his hands. For a moment, Sean felt a twinge of remorse, but he conquered it and closed the door behind him.
“How many cats do you have?” he asked Grace, looking around. He spotted ten from the hallway.
“Enough,” Grace said as she directed him to the bathroom. “More than enough.”
“They’re beautiful.”
Grace smiled. “Yes, they are. Natasha and Boris are in the den. That’s just down the hall. I think you’ll want to see them. They’re quite spectacular.”
Sean nodded his thanks. Then he reached up and touched his throat. “Sorry to be such a pain, but could I trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Don’t be silly,” Grace said, as Sean knew she would. She put Sasha down, turned, and headed toward the kitchen.
This was his chance. Sean started down the hallway as quickly as he could manage. He figured he didn’t have much time before Grace came looking for him. He cursed as he almost tripped over the Russian blue beneath his feet. “Sorry,” he murmured as the cat scurried away and he regained his footing.
According to Bernie’s description, the study was three rooms down, which put it one room before the bathroom. He passed the dining room and the media room. There were cats sitting on the dining-room table and on the sofa in the media room. They all looked at him with glacial disdain as he went by. He got to Susie’s study and went inside. Someone—he assumed it was Grace or Ralph or both—had put the furniture back where it was supposed to be and had wiped Susie Katz’s blood off the floor and the desk chair, but there were still a few spots left.
Sean looked around. The computer was gone, taken, he assumed, by the police, but everything else seemed to be where Libby and Bernie had left it. The desk was the obvious place to look, so that was where Sean began. He opened the desk drawers in quick succession. The first one yielded paper clips, cough drops, several pictures of Russian blues, and a bag of Kit Kat bars, most of which had already been eaten.
The center drawer contained a ream of blank printer paper, several Magic Markers, a Rolodex, and a printed list of all the cat shows in the area for the coming year. A large box of Susie’s business cards filled the third drawer. They read: AWARD-WINNING RUSSIAN BLUES FOR THE MOST DISCERNING. CALL THE TSARINA’S CATTERY. Interesting, Sean thought as he took two of the cards and slipped them in his pocket. She definitely had had plans.
Then he looked at the five yellow pads neatly stacked on top of the desk. There was one for each month, Susie having written the month’s name on the first page in block letters. Sean picked up the pad for May and leafed through it. Caputti’s name was listed on the second page, along with his phone number. Interesting, Sean thought, remembering Bernie’s description of their meeting with Andy Dupont.
Sean went through a few more pages. He found Susie’s to-do list for the wedding in the middle of the notepad, while the next pages contained her appointments for the week, the food she’d eaten, the cats’ feeding schedules, things to be taken care of, and random doodles. On impulse, he tore several pages out, folded them up, and slipped them in his pocket. He had closed the drawer and had just decided to take a quick peek at the bookshelves, even though there didn’t seem to be anything other than knickknacks on them, when he heard voices. They were heading his way.
“I don’t have it now,” a man was saying.
“But you can get it,” the second man said.
Sean recognized the voice of the second man, but not that of the first. It was Andy Dupont. Curious and curiouser.
“No, I can’t,” the first man said.
Then both of them stepped in front of the study door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Andy Dupont demanded when he saw Sean.
“Who are you?” Ralph asked Sean at the same time. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
Sean was interested to hear Ralph say, “My house.” At least he assumed it was Ralph, because he looked just like his sister.
Andy extended his right hand palm upward. “Ralph, meet our ex-police chief and the father of Bernie and Libby, the women who catered Boris and Natasha’s wedding.”
Sean nodded toward Andy. “Still in the game, I see.” When Andy didn’t answer, Sean turned to Ralph. “So how much are you into him for? It sounds like it’s a lot.”
“Seriously,” Ralph said to Sean. “What are you doing here?”
“I let him in,” Grace said. She was standing by the doorway, holding Sean’s glass of water in her hand.
Everyone turned toward her.
Ralph frowned. He looked puzzled. “You let him in?”
“He was interested in the cats, and he had to use the restroom,” Grace told her brother.
“Did you, now?” Andy said.
Sean smiled. “I might have exaggerated a bit on the last item,” he confessed.
“So, I repeat, what are you doing here?” Ralph asked him for the third time.
“Honestly, looking at the crime scene,” Sean explained. Which was true. “Sometimes I get nostalgic for old times. All that blood and gore. I just have to go out and satisfy my craving.” He pointed at Andy. “Ralph, this man is not your friend. How much do you owe him?”
Andy took a step toward Sean. “That’s none of your business.”
“In this case, I think it is,” Sean replied. “It gives Ralph a good motive to knock off his aunt.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ralph spluttered. “Are you accusing me of murder?”
“As my aunt used to say, ‘If the shoe fits,’ ” Sean said.
Ralph took a step forward, but Andy put a restraining hand on his arm. “Ralph doesn’t owe me anything,” Andy told Sean.
Sean faced Ralph. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” Ralph said, but he didn’t sound convincing. “It is.”
“You heard him. Now get out,” Andy said.
“Then how do you explain what I just heard?” Sean asked.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Andy said, taking a step toward him. “Get out, or I’m calling the police.”
“Nice way to speak to a senior citizen,” Sean told him.
Andy took another step toward him. “You used to be a big man around here, but you’re not anymore,” he sneered. “You’re just a worthless, broken-down old man.”
Sean turned to Ralph and pointed at Andy. “Are you going to let him order me around like that?” he demanded. “This is your house.”
“Maybe you had better go,” Ralph said apologetically.
“Can I at least use the bathroom?” Sean asked.
“Out,” Andy yelled.
Sean raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m going. I’m going. No need to lose your temper.”
Andy took a step toward him. “I’ll do more than
that, old man.”
For a moment, Sean contemplated punching him out. Then common sense prevailed, and he left.
Chapter 24
“Mission accomplished,” Sean told Marvin as he got back in Marvin’s car. He dug through his pants pocket and came out with the papers he’d taken and glanced through them as Marvin stepped on the gas.
“Anything interesting?” Marvin asked as he drove down the long road to the gate.
Sean didn’t look up. He was still contemplating his little dustup with Andy Dupont. “Could be,” Sean said as he folded the papers up and put them back in his pocket. He’d changed his mind. He’d look at the papers later, when he could focus on them. “I’m not sure.” For a minute, he thought about how the scene at the Connor estate would have gone when he was younger. When he had a badge. And a gun. And the ability to compel. There would have been none of that stupid charade, no backpedaling in the face of Andy Dupont. He would have just dragged him down to the station. Sometimes old age sucked.
“So, what did you find out?” Marvin asked, interrupting Sean’s thoughts.
Sean told him. When he was finished, he said, “Take me to the Council Golf Club.”
“Why? Who’s there?” Marvin asked as he turned to look at Sean, realized what he was doing, and looked back at the road.
“Leon Caputti.”
“I’m not sure that Libby . . . ,” Marvin began. Then he stopped. He could feel Sean’s glare, even though Sean wasn’t looking at him. It was a psychic thing. Marvin backpedaled and searched for a more tactful way to say what he wanted to. He decided he’d be more successful if he appealed to Libby’s dad’s better nature.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Simmons,” he began, “I’m going to catch hell when your daughter finds out.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sean replied.
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