“Ulla had some sort of, uh, attack,” I said. “They took her to the hospital. We’re waiting to hear how she is. It ended the signing rather abruptly.”
“Oh, dear. Thank God I got my book signed before she took ill,” said Susan. She clutched the volume to her chest as if it were made of gold. “I do hope she’ll be all right. I just can’t imagine shopping for my favorite sweater or shampoo without seeing Ulla.”
“Now, now dear, I’m sure she’ll be fine. The woman has the constitution of an elephant.” Jay Johnston patted his wife’s hand. I had the impression that he was fighting very hard to keep from rolling his eyes. He glanced up at me and said, “I’m a freelance motion graphics designer. I had gig a few months ago down at CNC where Ulla’s show is filmed. That woman is an experience.”
Susan turned to me. “He loves to exaggerate, especially if you get him talking about his job. He thinks every television personality is difficult.”
“Well, a lot of them are,” he said peevishly. “Ulla wasn’t very well liked, I can tell you that. I remember one woman in particular—”
“Oh, Jay.” His wife cut him off with a shrug and an eye roll. She sighed. “Ms. McCall isn’t interested in any of that gossip. I swear, sometimes you’re worse than an old woman.”
I saw Jay’s chin jut out, and I decided a change of subject was in order. I gestured toward Sylvie’s cage. “I see you found a new kitty.”
“Yes. She’s very sweet. In many ways, she reminds me of my beloved Trixie,” said Susan. “I liked the Ragdoll too, but—there was just something about the tabby that called out to me.”
Jay Johnston pulled a face. “Besides, pedigrees always seem to need so much attention, you know.” He pointed a finger at Annie Reilly, who lay quietly in the far corner. “That one seems like she’d be a handful.”
I decided not to tell Mr. Johnston just how right he was. Instead, I smiled and said, “Well, I’m sure you made a good choice. Sylvie is a very sweet cat.” I gestured toward Kat. “Our director will review your application and contact you to let you know when you can pick up Sylvie.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Susan. “Now that we’ve filled out the application, I can’t wait to bring her home.”
I walked out to the main part of the store with the Johnstons. I noticed as we walked through the store that all the recording equipment had been taken out and that the remaining books had been packed up and put in two large cartons by the side entrance. Susan Johnston asked a few questions as we walked, most of which dealt with basic cat care and were easy enough to answer. I assured her that Sylvie had been pronounced healthy, but I did recommend that they take her to Donna’s clinic should they have any major concerns. As we approached their SUV, I spotted Lois Galveston and Diane Ryan standing across the street, sipping some sort of beverage from Styrofoam cups. Lois glanced up, saw us, and murmured something to Diane. The two of them quickly ditched their cups and went back inside the store. No sooner had the Johnstons pulled away from the curb than Sissy came flying out the front door. She saw me and hurried over. “There you are. Do you think Ulla’s going to be okay?”
“I hope so,” I answered. I decided not to say anything about Cherry’s diagnosis until it was confirmed. “She didn’t look good; I can tell you that.”
“People are saying she’s not gonna make it.” Sissy dug into her pants pocket and whipped out her phone. “It’s all over social media.”
I stared at her. “Already?”
“Yep. My friend Carlene texted me about this.” She opened up Facebook on her phone and showed me a photograph that someone must have taken as Ulla was being wheeled out. It showed her on the stretcher, her face covered by the oxygen mask. The caption below the photo read “Shopping Queen Suffers Attack at Local Café Signing.”
“Swell,” I muttered.
“And that’s not all. It’s on YouTube too,” Sissy announced. “Someone else took a video with their phone and uploaded it. See?” She pulled up the video on her phone and handed it to me. Sure enough, someone had taken a clip as the stretcher was wheeled out of the café, onto the street, and into the ambulance. Suddenly, I let out a sharp gasp as the video ended.
“Play it again,” I directed Sissy. “Is there any way to freeze it at a certain point?”
“Don’t use YouTube much, do you, Syd?” chuckled Sissy. “Sure, I can halt it. Just tell me when.”
The video rolled again. When it got to the point where the EMTs lifted the gurney up to put it in the ambulance, I yelled out, “Stop!” Sissy obligingly froze that frame. I took her phone and stared at the screen. The image was a bit grainy, but I could swear the woman huddled at the fringe of the crowd, looking very furtive, was none other than Maggie! She’d come down here after all—but why? She’d been so adamant about not wanting to see Ulla.… What had changed her mind?
My cell chirped just then, and I pulled my phone out. The number was one I didn’t recognize, but I heard sirens in the background.
“Ms. McCall,” said a wobbly voice. “It’s Wendy Sweeting. Ulla didn’t make it. I don’t even think she had a pulse when she was admitted. The doctors pronounced her DOA.”
Chapter Eight
Even though Wendy’s announcement wasn’t entirely unexpected on the heels of Cherry’s prognosis, I still felt a chill pass through me. I always found sudden death to be disturbing, especially when its victim was relatively young and healthy, as in Ulla’s case. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured. “Did the doctors say what they thought might have caused it?”
“It’s too early to tell,” Wendy responded. “I understand the coroner is on his way here now.” She made a little sound that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a strangled sob. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get a statement ready. Those reporters at the event followed us here, and more are on the way.” She paused before saying, “I just thought you should know what happened.”
Wendy hung up and I just stood there for a minute, staring at my phone. I glanced up and saw that Kat had joined Sissy, and the two of them were looking at me expectantly. I just shook my head, and both gasped. Sissy put her hand to her mouth. We all stood in silence for a few moments, and then Kat asked, “Did Wendy know the official cause of death?”
“She said it was too early to tell. The coroner was supposed to be coming right down.” I imagined that Angus McKay, the county coroner, was probably going to bask in this for a while. Celebrity deaths weren’t exactly a commonplace occurrence in our neck of the woods.
Sissy looked at me curiously. “Official cause of death? I thought she had a heart attack.”
“According to Wendy, they’re not certain.”
Sissy’s eyes widened. “Do you think it could have been foul play?”
“Sissy! What a thing to say!” Kat admonished.
The teen didn’t look at all repentant. “It’s a natural assumption,” she defended herself. “Ulla wasn’t too well liked, and she had more enemies than friends. She talks about it in her book.”
I looked at her, surprised. “You read her book?”
Sissy’s grin was mischievous. “Some of it. Somebody left a copy on one of the café tables, and I skimmed through it. She made a lot of enemies back when she lived here. There’s a whole chapter on it. Who knows? Maybe someone she wronged saw an opportunity for revenge.”
Kat shook her head. “Sissy, you are so dramatic. That sounds a bit farfetched to me.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “You don’t watch enough crime shows, Kat. Actually, Sissy’s theory sounds very ‘fetched’ to me.” I pushed the grainy image of Maggie on that video clip out of my mind.
Sissy beamed at me. “Thank you, Syd.”
“Well, all this is speculation until we have more details,” Kat huffed. “And since Leila was probably one of the first reporters over there, I’m sure we’ll get the scoop later. In the meantime, we should start getting the cats ready to go.”
“Good idea, but first I want you to see so
mething. Sissy, show Kat what you just showed me.” I turned toward my sister as Sissy pulled out her phone. “Ulla’s exit in the ambulance went viral. Someone put it on YouTube.”
Kat wrinkled her nose. “Ew! And you think I’d be interested in seeing that?”
“Just look at the video carefully, particularly the last few seconds, and tell me if you recognize anyone in it.” I motioned to Sissy. The teen stepped forward and replayed the video, with both Kat and me hanging over her shoulder. When Sissy got to the part where they showed the crowd, I asked her to slow the video down as she had before.
Both Sissy and Kat squinted at the screen. After what seemed like an eternity, Kat said reluctantly, “The image isn’t all that clear, but … that woman kinda looks like Maggie.”
“I think it is Maggie,” said Sissy. “Or at least, it’s Maggie’s red jacket.” She frowned. “I thought she said she wouldn’t touch this place with a ten-foot pole.”
“She did say that,” Kat agreed. “So, either we’re mistaken, or … I don’t know. Maybe curiosity won out in the end after all.”
“I hope that’s all it was,” I muttered. Kat heard me and gave me a sharp look.
“It’s an easy mystery to solve,” she said. “We’ll just ask her. Right now, though, we need to take care of the cats.”
Sissy slid her phone back into her pocket, and the three of us went back to the pop-up area. Dayna and Donna were starting to box up what was left of the goodies. Suddenly Tara raced over to us, her face pale, her jaw set. “Ulla’s dead,” she said flatly.
“I know,” I said. “Wendy called me from the hospital. It’s a terrible thing.”
“Yes, in more ways than one. The police just called. A detective is on the way over here now. Her death is being classified as suspicious.”
That didn’t surprise me. I knew police generally considered a death suspicious if it was unexpected and its circumstances or causes were either medically or legally inexplicable. That might mean Cherry’s initial assessment about Ulla’s having a severe allergic reaction was correct.
“They didn’t come right out and say it, but I think they suspect foul play,” Tara added.
Sissy let out a triumphant cry. “Told ya,” she muttered.
Tara frowned at the teen, then turned back to us. “This type of publicity is so not what I need right now.”
“Oh, Tara, don’t worry.” Donna Blondell stepped out from behind the café counter to slip an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “No one blames you for what happened.”
Tara sighed. “Maybe so. Anyway, the detective who called asked that we detain as many people as we could. I guess they want to question everyone about what they might have seen or didn’t see.” She glanced over at the counter and its neat row of boxes. “I wouldn’t box up the food just yet,” she said. “The police said that we should leave everything as is and not touch a thing. They were especially emphatic about not touching any food.”
My first reaction was that Lois Galveston’s assessment had been correct. I had to admit it made sense. If Ulla had died from an allergic reaction, the first logical assumption would be that it probably came from something she’d ingested. I moved off to the side, took out my cell, and punched in Will’s number. It went straight to voicemail. So much for finding out anything in advance, not that Will would tell me anyway. He’s a stickler for doing things by the book.
Unbidden, the mental picture of Maggie lurking furtively on the edge of the crowd in that video popped into my head. As quickly as the thought came, I pushed it out of my mind. What possible motive would Maggie have for harming Ulla, unless … I gave my head a brisk shake. I could hear Grace Topping’s voice in my mind: “The two of them hated each other.” There had to be a reason for that, but what? Aloud I said, “Well, we can get the cats ready to go at least. Maybe the detective will take our statements first so we can get the cats back to the shelter.”
“Good idea,” said Donna. “If you need more help, let me know.”
Kat, Sissy, and I headed back to the storage area, where we found a harried-looking Viola on her hands and knees, looking underneath a small table in the far corner. She glanced up as we entered. “Oh, so this time it’s you. I heard someone at the door before, but when I called out, they scurried off.”
“Probably one of the staff or another fan looking for an opportunity to go through Ulla’s stuff—or a mouse.” I grinned at Vi. “Lose something?”
“Yeah, one stubborn cat.” Viola got to her feet and smoothed down her tunic top. “I had her in her carrier, but the lock is loose, and that little stinker is getting too good at unlatching the door.” Her lips curved upward. “As a matter of fact, Annie reminds me a lot of Toby. She’s enterprising and resourceful. Maybe the two of them should get together.”
I chuckled. “I think one cat is about all we can handle right now. I’m lucky Leila agreed to let me adopt Toby.” I glanced around the room. “Annie shouldn’t be too difficult to find. There aren’t that many places she can hide.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself. Cats are masters at hiding, and Annie wrote the book. She didn’t get that name for nothing, you know. I thought it was an odd name for a cat, so I looked it up on the Internet. Do you know—”
Vi stopped speaking abruptly as we heard a plaintive meow behind us. We all turned and saw the cat in question sitting in her carrier. “Merow,” she said again, and then raised her paw and started to wash her face.
Sissy started to giggle. “See, Vi? Annie knows where her place is. She was probably just having a little fun with you.”
“Fun my—never mind,” Vi said with a sigh. “We’re either going to have to get that carrier fixed or find her another one.”
“I hate to do that. The cat is used to Irene’s carrier,” Kat said. “I’ll just make a note to have Ed McGee look at it next time he’s at the shelter.” Ed McGee, the owner of McGee’s Hardware, often fixed things around the shelter for free.
“Well, maybe someone will adopt Annie before it becomes an issue again,” I said, and turned to Vi. “That reminds me, you didn’t finish telling your story. You said you looked up Annie Reilly online?”
“I did.” Viola cleared her throat and puffed out her chest, a mannerism she employed when she had what she felt was something of importance to impart to the rest of us, which was usually quite often. Don’t get me wrong; I love Viola, but the woman does tend to be right a good deal of the time, and she knows it. “The real Annie Reilly was actually rather … notorious.” Viola reached into her smock pocket, pulled out her smartphone, entered something in her browser, and then passed it over to me. “See for yourself.”
I took the phone and, with Kat looking over my shoulder, read the brief article on the screen. When I’d finished, I shook my head and handed the phone back to Viola. “The cleverest woman in her line of work in America, huh?” I said.
“Yep,” Viola said brightly, pocketing her phone. “Annie Reilly was one of the best thieves and con artists in America in the late eighteen hundreds. And this little stinker is the feline version. If you haven’t noticed, she’s a real packrat. She’ll snag anything that’s lying around, although her preference is for shiny things, and the shinier the better. You saw the way she went after Ulla’s necklace.” Vi pursed her lips. “Speaking of Ulla, any news?”
“She didn’t make it,” I said quietly.
Vi was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “She didn’t seem to be a nice person, but still, it’s such a tragic end to this event.” She paused and then said, “Maggie would have been pleased at what a nice turnout we had today. I wonder why she didn’t come in.”
My ears perked up. “What do you mean? Maggie was here?”
“Yep. Or at least I thought she was here. I only caught a quick glimpse. She was standing over by the back entrance, and I’m certain that was her red coat, but—I could be wrong.”
“You didn’t see her face?”
Vi shook her head. “Nope. Like
I said, I only had a quick glimpse.” She waved her hand. “But I’m probably mistaken. After all, if it had been Maggie, she wouldn’t have been lurking around; she’d have come inside to help.”
“Absolutely,” Kat agreed briskly. “Maggie’s first priority would always be the animals.”
The two of them moved off to help Sissy with the cat toys. I hung back, unable to shake the vision of Ulla arguing with someone who stood in the shadows. Had it been Maggie? I pulled out my cell and hit the button for Maggie’s number; once again, it went to voicemail. I left a message, short and sweet: “Maggie, it’s Syd. I need to talk to you. Call me ASAP.”
“You sound serious,” said a familiar voice. I nearly dropped my phone as I whirled around and found myself staring right into Will Worthington’s eyes.
Chapter Nine
At first glance, my boyfriend looks more like a movie star than a homicide detective. He has a high forehead, black curly hair that begs to have fingers run through it, sparkling blue eyes, and a wide, generous, very kissable mouth. Make no mistake, though—behind that handsome face is a mind like a steel trap, a mind that’s well honed when it comes to things like murder and detection. I looked up at him with a sweet smile as I slid my phone casually back into my pocket.
“Why, Will Worthington,” I purred, in my best Southern maiden impersonation, “we’ve just got to stop meeting like this. People will talk.”
He gave my arm a quick squeeze. “I’m happy to see you, although I wish it were under different circumstances. Like my picking you up for a Friday night dinner.”
“Me too.” I gave a quick look around. “Are you working this alone?”
“I wish.” His nose wrinkled, almost as if he’d smelled something foul. “Charlie should be here somewhere. Connolly wants us to work this together.”
Death by a Whisker Page 8