Fat Cat Spreads Out

by Janet Cantrell

  Other cats were outfitted as ballet dancers in tutus (two of them, one being the Maine Coon), firecats (three), and one had on a mermaid outfit, complete with wrapped back legs. That cat, a sassy Siamese, yowled over and over and looked miserable. The other Siamese seemed to be Neptune, in similar blue-green colors with a trident fastened to its back. The cat was trying hard to bite it off.

  There were five orange tabbies dressed as Puss in Boots. That made her smile. She was right not to have picked that for Quincy’s costume.

  “Next,” Daisy announced, “Shadow, owned by Ivan and Peter Aronoff.”

  What had Hardin muttered when she was clinging for all her life to his van? That foreigner has caused me enough trouble. How had she missed putting that together? The only person who sounded like he was clearly from someplace else was Ivan Aronoff. He was also cuckoo, as Hardin had pointed out. Chase frowned in thought. No, Hardin hadn’t killed Oake. But she knew who had.

  Chase stared at Shadow’s stand. Both Peter and Ivan were still there. Peter picked up his cat and took him to the judges.

  Shadow behaved admirably, and Peter returned to their stand and tucked Shadow into his carrier.

  “That’s it,” Anna said. “Quince and Shadow were the last two. Now it’s time to hold our breath.”

  Chase had been doing that a lot lately. She fidgeted, trying to decide what to do about what she had figured out.

  One of the police officers from the parking lot strode a few steps into the arena, looked around, and beckoned Daisy over to him. She hurried to the doorway. They bent their heads together, the large man leaning down to Daisy’s level. After a few seconds, she jerked her head up and stared at him. He nodded grimly. After he said a few more words, she nodded, too, then came back to the contest.

  The policeman looked behind him, into the corridor, then went to sit in the bleachers, on the first row, very close to the entrance. He should be able to catch Ivan if he made a run for it. But why would he run? No one here knew he was the killer except Chase. And what concrete evidence did she have? None. Just Hardin saying he saw someone who was probably Ivan leaving the building at the critical time. It didn’t seem that Hardin had told the police what he told her, or ever would.

  Daisy climbed the stand to the microphone and tapped it. Every single cat and half their owners flinched. “I need to make a special announcement. After the contest, no one is to leave the building. This is by order of the police. There has been . . . an incident and they want to question everyone here.”

  The huge space buzzed with startled exclamations and whispered words. It seemed that every single person stirred, either in their seats or where they were standing.

  Daisy continued. “We’ll finish the judging and award the prize, then, everyone, please stay here.” She stepped down and nodded at the judges to continue.

  The three judges put their heads together and conferred for the longest time. The crew cut man pulled a notebook from his inside jacket pocket and thumbed through a few pages. The woman consulted her phone. Chase assumed she had taken notes on it. The jolly man bobbed his head in agreement. Finally, the stern woman beckoned Daisy to the trio. She tripped across the floor, her frizzy hair bouncing, her eyebrows up expectantly. She was light on her feet, in spite of the heavy atmosphere. Daisy stood listening, gave two quick nods, then went back to the stand with the microphone. She refrained from tapping it this time.

  “May I have your attention, please? The judges have reached a decision in the Fancy Cat Contest. Here are the results. In third place, Princess Puffball the ballerina, owned by Patrice Youngren.”

  Patrice, with a huge smile on her face, held her pudgy ballerina up so everyone could admire the frilly pink costume. Ms. Sharp, the prickly Picky Puss rep, marched over and handed a ribbon to Patrice.

  When the clapping started, it was so loud that Chase looked around for the first time at all the spectators, perched on risers to one side of the competition area. They filled every row, up to the top. She was surprised by the number of faces she saw. There were too many people there, she thought, for the crowd to be made up of just the friends and relatives of the contestants. It was clearly a popular contest. It was the last contest of the fair, and the contract for appearing on the cat food containers, plus a possible television ad, with royalties, were such high stakes—but would have been higher if the collar hadn’t disappeared.

  After the applause died down, Daisy spoke again. “Ladies and gentlemen, in second place is Shadow, dressed as Batcat.” Shadow’s owner was announced. Peter grinned and displayed Shadow as Ms. Sharp went to their stand and gave a red ribbon to Ivan. Chase wasn’t sure how she felt about the show going on and a murderer winning a prize. If Peter was innocent of his father’s crimes, she felt happy for him. Ivan, however . . . She had no happiness for him. In fact, anger was building inside her.

  “And in first place, Quincy, as Babe the Blue Ox, owned by Charity Oliver.”

  The butterscotch cat’s owner gripped him so hard, she was in danger of crushing him. Nevertheless, he purred loudly. Maybe he’d caught her infectious joy at winning the contest. Maybe he could tell he’d won and was happy about it. Maybe he liked being squeezed by his owner. The loud applause made him a bit jumpy, but he felt safe in his owner’s arms. After all, she was the one who fed him those delicious treats. The other woman stroked him. He basked in the attention and purred even more loudly, closing his eyes tightly in contentment. The two women swelled with pride.

  Inger smiled at Peter then ran over from the Aronoff’s stand to join them. Chase grabbed Inger’s hand and raised their arms in the air together, signifying that Inger had a lot to do with the first-place win. Daisy handed the blue ribbon to Anna, since Chase’s hands were full.

  “Where should we put this?” Anna asked Chase.

  “Maybe in the shop?” Chase was distracted, watching Peter and Ivan. Shadow was still out of his carrier. Ivan held him and Peter admired their ribbon.

  “Yes,” said Inger. “In the front. I’ll explain it to people.”

  “Be sure,” Anna said, “that you mention who helped—”

  A ginger furball leapt down, streaked past Chase and Inger, and jumped upon the pedestal where the black cat’s carrier rested.

  “Quincy!” Anna wasn’t far behind, running to try to catch him.

  The ginger cat dove into the carrier and started pawing the bedding, looking like a dog digging a hole, or maybe a cat looking for a fresh place in the litter box.

  Chase thought of that last one and was afraid he would do his business in Shadow’s carrier. She reached in and pulled him out, knocking his ox horns off. It was a wonder they had stayed on while he’d streaked across the room. Now, though, they fell to the floor. Anna swooped them up before anyone could step on them, although they hardly needed them now.

  When Chase folded her cat in her arms, a dazzling sparkle caught her eye in the carrier. She reached in again and this time she withdrew what Quincy had been digging for.

  It was the missing diamond collar.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Silence fell on the arena as, one after another, people noticed what she held.

  Her hand, holding the precious object at arm’s length as if it were contaminated, began to tremble. Showers of fiery sparks from the diamonds caught the bright arena lights and shot around the room. A few dabs of butter were wedged between some of the jewels. It hadn’t been cleaned off since it had been taken from inside the sculpture, Chase thought. Quincy strained toward it, flicking his tongue out.

  Ivan, more wild-eyed than ever, lunged for the collar, but Chase was quick enough to snatch her hand back against her chest. She narrowed her eyes and looked from one man to the other.

  “You had this all the time?” she demanded, her throat tight with anger.

  “No, no! I didn’t know it was there,” Peter cried. “Papa, what have you don
e?”

  Ivan grabbed her arm, but she kept her grip on the collar. In a flash, Ivan threw Chase to the floor, banging her head and her right hand against the ground, trying to loosen her grip. Quincy jumped down. Chase flinched but didn’t let go.

  “Police!” Anna yelled, as loud as she could, which was pretty loud. She scrambled and caught Quincy, who had leapt away from the fray.

  Chase shook her head in an effort to clear the stars spinning inside her skull. Ivan straddled her, clutched her wrist, and pressed, trying to get her to release the collar. Quincy, maybe having a change of heart, jumped from Anna’s arms. He pounced and bit down, hard, on Ivan’s forearm. The man yowled and rolled off Chase.

  The policeman Chase had seen enter was there an instant later. He lifted Ivan off the ground and held him by both arms. Chase still had the collar. She slowly rose from the floor, rubbing the back of her sore head. Other officers stayed inside the door to the hallway, beckoning a dozen more uniformed police officers inside. She could barely see the tops of their heads, but she could easily tell which one was Detective Olson because he was a bit taller than the others.

  Ingrid stood behind Peter, her hands clutching her horrified face.

  “What’s going on?” the policeman asked. He was a large, stern-looking man of about forty with bristly dark brown hair, an acne-scarred face, and substantial jowls.

  “It should belong to us,” Ivan snarled. “The money spent on that thing should have gone to pay Peter. She should not have it.” He tossed his head toward Chase on the word she.

  The officer detached a pair of plastic strips from his belt and looped them around Ivan’s wrists behind his back, ignoring what Chase held. Chase could tell Ivan was rubbing the officer the wrong way.

  “How did it get in your carrier?” Anna asked.

  Peter shrank back. “I didn’t know it was there,” he protested.

  “How could you not?” asked Anna. “Didn’t you bring your cat here in that carrier?”

  Peter nodded. “Yes, but . . . I don’t know. I didn’t know it was there,” he repeated.

  “Did your cat notice it was there?” Chase stepped closer, putting her face in his.

  Peter frowned and looked down at the cat, who sat crouched at the foot of the stand all this time. Peter picked him up. “That’s strange. You’d think Shadow would have found it.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t like butter as much as Quincy does,” Chase said. Quincy, in her arms again, was now licking bits of it off the collar she still held.

  “I hope none of those diamonds are loose,” Anna said. “Maybe I’d better take it.”

  “Has anyone called Detective Olson over here?” Chase asked.

  The policeman finally took a close look at what was in Chase’s hand. “This is the missing artifact, isn’t it?” the man said. He held out his hand, one arm on Ivan’s upper arm, and Chase gave it to him. “I’ll get backup right now.” He slipped it into a paper bag and into a pocket one-handed. He waved toward where Olson stood, now surrounded by two dozen police. He took a whistle from his belt and blew it.

  Chase watched Ivan. His eyes never left the collar as the man tried to summon more police.

  “Why does your father have this?” Chase asked Peter. She wanted to hear someone else say it.

  “I have no idea. I don’t know how it got there.” Peter looked genuinely puzzled.

  Patrice came running over, carrying Princess Puffball. “That’s him!” She pointed at Ivan. “That’s the horrible man who threatened me!” Her eyes were wild. “He wanted me to give him the collar.”

  Ivan had wanted Patrice to give it to him, she said, after she stole it. He was the reason she’d put it inside the butter sculpture in the first place. “There’s only one way it could have ended up in the carrier if you didn’t put it there,” Chase said to Peter.

  Ingrid was giving Peter peculiar looks. He glanced back at her once, then quickly away.

  “Yes, you’re right.” He looked at his father with sorrow in his eyes. “Papa? You took this? From the butter sculpture?”

  Ivan had to have seen Patrice hide it there and gone to retrieve it.

  “So what if I did? You should have it.”

  Chase could see the top of Detective Olson’s head as he finally made his way through the throng toward them.

  “But what else did you do when you took it?” Peter’s voice shook and tears flowed down his face, scrunched in agony.

  “All right,” Ivan shouted. “I killed that man! He came in and saw me. I had to.”

  Gasps were heard from everyone crowding around the spectacle. Chase let one escape, too, at the unvarnished confession.

  “Stand back, everyone,” the policeman said. “You’re not going anywhere,” he told Ivan. “Everyone stay put until the detective gets here. No one is to move an inch.”

  They all watched as Detective Olson and six uniformed backup officers strode through the crowd toward Ivan. Ivan glared at everyone and hissed, showing his teeth. Chase thought he looked like an angry cat.

  “That’s him!” Patrice shouted again, stabbing her finger at Ivan, but staying a good distance away from him. Her mother, Mike’s aunt Betsy, had made her way over and folded Patrice, cat and all, to her bosom.

  Mike was right behind them. He went directly to Chase and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “What’s going on now?”

  “Now we know who killed Oake.” She leaned into him and watched Ivan.

  When Olson reached them and confronted Ivan, the fight went out of the cranky old man and he submitted to a pat-down without further resistance. He kept his mouth shut, although he threw daggers at both Chase and Dr. Ramos.

  Patrice repeated everything about Ivan’s threats when he’d seen her with the collar, as one of the officers took notes.

  Peter conferred with Inger briefly before following his father as he was taken out of the arena by two of the officers.

  People were slowly beginning to leave the arena, one at a time, after being questioned by the police at the door.

  Chase and Mike stepped aside, to the edge of the now-dwindling crowd.

  “What just happened? I could see what I thought was a struggle, but too many people were in the way.”

  “Quincy and I found the diamond collar!”

  “Where was it?”

  “In Shadow’s carrier. Ivan is the one who murdered Larry Oake.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Ivan tried to get it from me, but Quincy bit him on the arm. It was awesome. You should have seen it. I didn’t get hurt much.”

  “How about out there with the van? You got hurt there, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. My hands are sore and a little bruised from Hardin pounding on my knuckles, but nothing too bad.” They were a dozen yards away from where the guard held Ivan’s biceps in an iron grip. “And I hurt my knees a little bit.”

  “What exactly did you do?” Mike took her hands in his and inspected them, frowning at her bandages. His hands were warm. His own knuckles looked bruised. She rubbed a finger over them.

  “I hung on to the car while he tried to drive away.”

  “If you had fallen off, you’d have been badly hurt.”

  Chase grinned. “But I didn’t. How about you?”

  “My hands are sore, too, from pounding on the wall of the van,” he admitted. “Thank goodness you realized what was happening.”

  “We’re quite the pair, with our injuries. But why did Hardin kidnap you?”

  “I couldn’t figure that out at first. I startled him earlier, on the midway. He was coming out from the aisle next to the butter building. He looked panicked—I didn’t know why—but just ran away. After he took me to the van and threw me inside, he was raving about something he thought I’d seen. He thinks I saw him kill someone
back there behind the booths!”

  “It all started when Hardin saw Ivan run away after killing Oake.”

  “He saw him run from the building?”

  “Yes. He told Sally, one of the travel agents, but then refused to talk about it, especially with the police.”

  Mike’s jaw swung open. “Why? Why wouldn’t he tell anyone what he saw?”

  “He’s a murderer who escaped from prison and changed his name. If the police found out, he’d be going back to prison. I’m not sure why he told Sally. He was probably trying to impress her. She was good-looking and was about the only person here that talked to him. She said she would go to the police if he didn’t. I guess he thought it was worth harming both of us to stay out of prison.”

  “He thought it was worth killing for, Chase. He admitted to the police that he had strangled a woman behind the booths before they drove him away. Now I know it was the travel agent,” Mike said. “He was raving that I had seen him kill her and that he would get rid of me, too.”

  “How can someone not care a bit about others? How could Hardin strangle her when all she did was tell people what he had told her?”

  “He doesn’t care about anyone. Just about himself.”

  “So there actually were two murders here. And two murderers.” Chase shuddered violently and Mike squeezed her shoulders.

  They rejoined the few people left on this side of the arena, Anna and Inger among them.

  “Could we keep Shadow for a day or two?” Inger appealed to Chase and Anna as soon as she saw them.

  “Inger,” Anna said. “Do you know the Aronoffs?”

  “I know Peter, mostly.” She looked at her feet.

  “How on earth do you know him?” As soon as she said it, Chase remembered how Inger had searched the homeless shelter and that the cook had mentioned a young man. She also remembered Ivan saying he and his son were homeless after Peter had lost his job with Picky Puss. “The homeless shelter?” Chase asked.

  “Yes, I met him there, delivering our dessert bars. Peter is crazy about the Harvest Bars. I didn’t want to say anything. It’s too soon after Zack died. Isn’t it? But Peter was so nice to me.”