The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

by Leann Sweeney

  “Vital signs, Miss Longworth,” the woman said. She was pushing a small contraption with a blood pressure cuff and an electronic thermometer. “And it’s been four hours since they gave you that pain shot. Do you want me to ask the nurse for more? I’m seeing pain written all over your face.”

  “Elsa, you are so very observant,” Ritaestelle said.

  We all moved aside so the woman could do her job. When she was finished, she said, “Now, what about that pain medicine?”

  “My muscles are simply sore from thinking I am twenty years younger than I actually am. I believe I will be fine with a new ice pack.” She handed the disposable packaged blue gel to Elsa and then looked at me. “Your yard is quite expansive, Jillian. I do not know what on earth I was thinking last night walking out in the dark.”

  Elsa said, “I’ll get you a new one, but ice won’t do the trick. You need that shot. Give the nurse about fifteen minutes.” Elsa nodded at us and left.

  Mike and Shelton pulled their chairs next to Ritaestelle’s bed.

  Mike said, “I’ve made some calls, and I want you to be aware that officers will be sent to search your house for any evidence that might be connected to Miss Preston’s death. I assume the victim didn’t live with you.”

  “Oh no. She had an apartment in town and—”

  “After you called me to make the notification last night, Chief Baca, I took it upon myself to search Evie’s apartment,” Shelton said.

  I saw Mike’s eyebrows come together. “You searched her apartment?” he said.

  “I, like you, know how to run an investigation. First I went to see Evie’s mother, though. Wise of your officer to ask me to make that notification. Since we had probable cause for a search and Evie’s mother didn’t have a problem, she gave me the key. She’s very distraught, as you can imagine.”

  Ritaestelle turned her head away so we couldn’t see her expression. But her voice was thick with emotion when she said, “I am hoping to speak with Mrs. Preston soon. A mother should not outlive her daughter.”

  Mike leveled narrowed eyes at Shelton. “Wouldn’t have been too hard to get a warrant.”

  The spirit of cooperation between them that had seemed too good to be true apparently was.

  “Wouldn’t have been hard to get a warrant for Ritaestelle’s car and her house, either.” Shelton picked a cat hair off her navy slacks. A long Chablis-colored hair.

  “Touché,” Mike said. He turned to Ritaestelle. “Do you want to change your mind and have us get warrants?”

  “I have nothing to hide—and that sounds exactly like a line from a movie. I know my brother is turning over in his grave about my decisions, but I did nothing to harm Evie. And if I could have managed to get down into that water like Jillian did, well—” She took a deep breath. “But I did not. I could not. Now, I imagine you have more questions. Please go on.”

  Mike cocked his head. He seemed to be trying to read Ritaestelle, see if her emotion was for real. After a few seconds he said, “The chronology of events is what’s most important right now.” Mike readied his pen to write down more information. “Tell me when you decided to leave your house and go to Jillian’s place. And be as specific as you can.”

  Ritaestelle explained about pouring out the tea she suspected was drugged around dinnertime, waiting for her watchdog cousin Augusta to fall asleep and sneaking out of the house down a back staircase. Seemed that her nephew never went to bed before four a.m., so she was worried he’d spot her if she went down the main stairs.

  “You’re talking about Farley Longworth?” Mike asked.

  “Yes,” Ritaestelle said. “I cannot tell you how distressed I am that he will be carrying on the family name. Too bad he will not have the family home or the family money to go with it—unless there’s a miraculous change in him before I die. Longworths should be ambitious and outgoing. He is neither. I have put instructions in my will that if he has not earned at least five hundred thousand dollars of his own by the time he turns sixty, then most of the money I have set aside for him will go to charity.”

  Mike said, “Interesting. Does he know about this?”

  “Not yet,” Ritaestelle said.

  “Did you drive straight to Jillian’s house?” Shelton asked.

  Ritaestelle offered a knowing smile. “You above all people know you cannot get straight to anywhere in these parts. But I traveled the most efficient route. The GPS directed me in an Australian accent. That is my most favorite voice. So entertaining.”

  “And you don’t have a cell phone?” Mike asked.

  “Not our Ritaestelle,” Shelton said. “Which is why I’m quite surprised to hear about her using GPS. A system like that is actually a computer, you know.”

  “Why, that surprises me. Perhaps I will have to learn to use one of those before I die,” Ritaestelle said. “As for the GPS, I do not often get out, as you know, Nancy, but when I do attend a function in an unfamiliar location, I find the computer, as you called it, simple to use. I found Jillian’s house easily.” She paused, her gaze unfocused. “Evie must have followed me . . . and look what happened to that unfortunate girl. I never thought anyone was watching me.”

  “Watching you? Following you?” Shelton said. “How would she know you’d be sneaking out in the first place? She doesn’t stay at your house past five or six in the afternoon, does she?”

  Ritaestelle cocked her head, looking puzzled. “Why, those are very good questions, Nancy. I had not thought about that.”

  “She came to work as usual yesterday and left on time?” Mike said.

  “As far as I know. But Farley has taken a liking to her, so perhaps they were together last evening in the library or more likely in the room set up with that giant, awful television. Not my idea to have a sixty-inch television. Anyway, they might have heard me leave the house—which was certainly not my intent.”

  Mike scribbled in his notebook while the look on Shelton’s face told me she wasn’t buying this explanation.

  “How old is Farley?” Though I wasn’t supposed to be asking questions, I was curious.

  “Forty,” Shelton and Ritaestelle said in unison.

  Then Ritaestelle added, “Too old for Evie, if you want my opinion. But a man who acts like an adolescent is likely to have an attraction to an accomplished and attractive woman like Evie, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I nodded. “I’d say most men would have found her attractive.”

  Mike stared at me, saying, “I’ll be asking plenty of questions of all the people who knew Miss Preston.”

  Message received, Mike, I thought.

  Another woman, this one in beige scrubs, entered the room. Her name tag said, JENKINS, RN. “The doctor has changed your medicine to pills.” She glanced at all of us. “Um, I need to talk to my patient in private.”

  “You may say whatever you need to, Nurse Jenkins,” Ritaestelle said. “I have no secrets.”

  The nurse said, “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” Ritaestelle replied.

  “All right. After more blood work and an MRI of that hip, you’re being released, Miss Longworth. We know your hip isn’t fractured, but we can get an extent of the inflammation with the MRI.” She pushed a small cart that had several drawers to the bedside after we all moved aside to allow her to get close to her patient. She checked Ritaestelle’s hospital bracelet, administered the medicine and left.

  Meanwhile, Ritaestelle never took her eyes off me. “I do not feel inclined to go home. After what’s happened I believe I am far less safe than I was yesterday.”

  That stare turned pleading and bore into me.

  I knew what she wanted. Yup, I was still in this up to my eyeballs.

  Seventeen

  Mike Baca dropped me off at the Main Street Diner when we returned to Mercy. I walked into the restaurant and was met with the smell of fries and grilled meat. This place always made me hungry—and I was grateful that my stomach had finally settled down. That didn’t mean I w
asn’t worried about my offer to have Ritaestelle stay with me for a few days. But deep down I knew it was best for her. She needed help, and after learning about her family, I feared they weren’t the right crew for the job.

  Mike hadn’t objected when I’d haltingly told Ritaestelle she could stay with me if she was afraid to go home. But Shelton sure hadn’t liked the idea. That was when I realized that having Ritaestelle in Mercy, rather than back in Woodcrest, was fine with Mike. Not so from Shelton’s point of view, though. Police are so territorial. But she’d forced a smile and said she wanted her friend to be comfortable.

  I leaned on the counter near the cash register. Besides their trademark Texas chili dogs, they made wonderful burgers with chipotle mayo and sweet onions served on toast. I was craving one of those, so I took out my phone and called Tom for a headcount at the house. After I got the number—everyone wanted burgers—I placed my order and then walked down the street to Belle’s Beans. During the walk I took time to check my cat cam. Tom was sitting in the living room with Morris. They were surrounded by sleeping cats. Except for Isis, that is. I wondered where she was. Still stuck somewhere? Probably.

  The owner of Belle’s Beans, whom I called the real Belle, was sitting reading the paper at one of the tall tables. Meanwhile, a young woman with a BELLE name tag stood behind the counter taking coffee orders.

  When the real Belle saw me, she practically jumped off her bar stool and came over to greet me. She is spry for a woman in her late sixties—maybe as spry as Ritaestelle was before her fall. Belle’s lipstick, an almost Concord grape color, did not serve her well. Seemed to me that white-haired ladies should go for pinks and corals. Plus, as usual, she’d spread the lipstick well below her lower lip.

  Belle gave me a bear hug, saying, “Oh, my goodness gracious, I heard what happened. I am so sorry.”

  When she released me, I said, “It’s a terrible thing. Evie Preston was so young.”

  “Have some coffee and tell me all about it.” Belle started for her table.

  “I ordered takeout from the diner, so I can’t stay. I came to pick up coffee beans, and I am dying for an iced vanilla latte.”

  Belle pouted, only emphasizing her awful makeup job. But then she called out to the Belle behind the counter. “Large iced vanilla latte to go and a bag of Kenyan beans for Miss Jillian.”

  I knew that the real name of the young woman behind the counter was Wendy, but it was Belle’s practice to have every employee wear a name tag with BELLE on it. She felt it added to the friendly atmosphere. I couldn’t argue. This cute little coffee shop with its wonderful drinks and delicious pastries and cakes was probably the friendliest spot in Mercy.

  “Listen, Belle, I promise to tell you everything when I can,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll tell you this: Ritaestelle couldn’t possibly have killed anyone. She has been a pillar in that town of hers. Yes, a pillar. Helped anyone in need. But did she really come to your house in her dressing gown?”

  I averted my eyes, thinking, Everyone knows. Heck, Belle probably knows more than I do. I met her eager stare. “It was a bathrobe. But are you saying you know Ritaestelle?”

  “Why, yes. We are of the same generation, after all. But her cousin Muriel is the real connection. She married my cousin, so we’re sort of related,” Belle said.

  “I believe Muriel was at the hospital this morning. Plump woman with red hair?”

  “That would be her,” Belle said. “Not long after my cousin and Muriel were married, he took off with a nineteen-year-old nanny who lived at the Longworth Estate. The girl was supposed to be taking care of Farley Longworth, but apparently she was busy doing other things.”

  “That was a while ago, then?” I said. “Because Farley is approaching middle age.”

  “Yes. You do the math.” Belle grinned. “I don’t measure anything by years anymore. Helps a girl stay young.”

  I grinned. “Is that why you chose grape lipstick today? For the youthful look?”

  Belle touched her lips. “Yes, but I nearly scared poor Java to death when I put it on this morning. I don’t think I’ll try it again.”

  Java was her cobby kitty, a lovely brown Persian.

  “Cats know best,” I said. “I pay attention to what they tell me in their own way. But back to Farley. You knew him, too?”

  “Not really. When my cousin was part of the Longworth family, my late husband and I were invited to a few gatherings, but aside from Ritaestelle, I didn’t care for that bunch. Maybe that’s why my cousin ran away from all that money. He couldn’t stand them either. He stayed away, too. Had his happily ever after life in Wisconsin until he passed away two years ago.”

  Wendy boomed, “Large iced vanilla latte.”

  Belle muttered, “I’m gonna have to talk to that particular Belle. Guess her mama never schooled her about using her inside voice. She’s not calling across a football field, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Gotta go,” I said, giving Belle a hug. I paid for my coffee and latte and walked back to the diner. Now that the morning clouds had cleared, the sun shined bright and hot. No rain today, which I’m sure made Candace happy. Indeed, it was such pretty weather that the tourists who frequented Mercy in the summer were out in droves visiting the specialty shops and antiques stores on Main Street.

  I was surprised to see Tom standing under the diner’s green awning when I arrived back there. I had been just about to call him to pick me up.

  He said, “Food should be ready, right?”

  It was, and ten minutes later we were at my house. As we took the back steps, I saw Candace traipsing up from the lake carrying a wad of used yellow crime scene tape.

  She called, “We’re done.”

  “Come on in for a burger,” I said. “I have a few things to tell you.”

  Tom headed straight to the table in my breakfast nook and set the bag of food down.

  I waited at the back door for Candace.

  “Did she confess?” she said as she climbed the porch steps. “ ’Cause outdoor crime scenes are trouble with a capital T. Didn’t find any fingerprints on the dock, and Martinez didn’t have any luck looking underwater either. We need a confession.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but she didn’t confess. And I really don’t think she did it, Candace,” I said.

  A muscle in Candace’s jaw tightened. “The lady was standing out on your dock while a dead woman floated in the water not three feet away. That’s evidence of something, I’d say. Mike’s pussyfooting around on this one, and I don’t get it.”

  “You think he has an agenda?” I asked.

  Candace and I came inside and she shoved the wad of crime scene tape in the trash can in the utility room. She glanced at Kara, who was walking toward us.

  “Can we shelve this discussion for now?” Candace whispered.

  I nodded, realizing she wasn’t about to talk about police business in front of someone following developments for the newspaper.

  Morris joined us, too. Kara was holding Chablis but set her down when she reached the table. The other three cats trailed behind her. Syrah was sniffing the air like a bloodhound. He does have a taste for people food on occasion.

  Tom found paper plates and napkins while I put the coffee beans in the airtight container where I keep them. Once we all had a burger and a stack of fries on our plates, I decided I’d better tell everyone the news.

  I took a fortifying sip of my latte before I said, “Ritaestelle is coming here to stay after she’s released from the hospital this afternoon.”

  Kara’s eyes grew wide, and Candace blinked about a dozen times.

  Candace finally broke the silence. “Are you kidding me?”

  “The woman’s afraid to go home. She’s convinced someone was drugging her tea and making her look like a thief,” I said. “And besides, she’s still hurting. All those stairs at her house would be a big problem.”

  Candace set her untouched burger
on her plate, her cheeks vivid with anger. “This is not good, Jillian.”

  “Mike doesn’t agree. Besides, you should have seen her hip. I have no clue how she got down to the lake last night in the shape she was in,” I said.

  “I did see her hip—last night,” Candace said. “She’s a little hobbled. So what? I agree with the chief that she needs watching, but you’re not the one to do it.”

  “You both saw her leg? You have proof she was truly injured?” Kara said.

  Candace stared at Kara. “The whole world doesn’t need to know. You get what I’m saying, right? We need to keep a few details out of the news.”

  These two had trouble getting along when they first met in the spring, and with Candace running hot right now, I hoped her temper wouldn’t cause them to take several steps backward in what had become a decent friendship.

  “Are you telling me what I can write and what I can’t?” Kara said.

  Before I could say something—anything—to smooth the waters, Tom spoke. “That’s not true, right, Candace?” he said. “You totally embrace freedom of the press.”

  Candace took a deep breath and turned back to me. “Of course I do. But still, why did you agree to take that woman in? You realize you could have a murderer sleeping down the hall.”

  “I have to trust my heart—just like you have to trust the evidence,” I said evenly.

  Candace took a deep breath, and the color on her cheeks faded. “I get that. I’m sorry, but I worry about you.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that,” I said. “Here’s something else that will interest you. Mike has the keys to Ritaestelle’s car and permission to search it.”

  Candace stood up so fast, she nearly knocked over her chair. “When is he coming? Maybe I should put crime scene tape around the Cadillac so no one will touch it before he gets here.”

  Morris stopped eating long enough to say, “Jeez, Candace, sit your butt down and eat. We’re the only ones here, and we’re not messing with that car.”

  Candace hesitated before sitting back down. “Sure. I know that. Do you think the chief will let me do the search?”