by Cate Conte
He shook his head. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.”
I hugged him. “Thanks. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I scooted out the door before he could see the tears in my eyes and ask if they were happy or sad tears. I honestly wasn’t sure.
Chapter 13
Grandpa was still nowhere in sight. I presumed I’d been right and he’d left for his morning walk. I grabbed his keys and headed outside, slowing at the sight of the newspaper on the porch. I’d purposely avoided turning on the TV or even looking at the news updates that go straight to my phone. But I couldn’t avoid it all day.
I bent to pick up the paper and blinked when a camera flashed in my face. “Hey,” I said, straightening up and glaring at the guy with the camera. “Who are you?”
“I’m with the cable news station. You’re the owner, right?”
“Of what?”
The guy sighed, as if I’d proven I was too stupid to interview. “The cat café.”
“Oh. Yes, I’m one of the owners. Are you doing a story on the café?” I self-consciously reached up and tried to straighten my ponytail. “If so, I’d rather schedule it than be surprised.”
He grinned. “Kind of. It’s more of a story about the murder.”
It took a second for that to register, and I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open. I snapped it shut and shook my head. “No comment. Please leave.”
“Whatever,” he said. “We’ll just broadcast from the sidewalk.” He whistled to someone. “Set up out there,” I heard him yell.
I bolted across the grass and into the driveway. My hands were shaking as I unlocked Grandpa’s truck and slid in. I drove away and turned the corner before I pulled over to slow my pounding heart. Why were they filming my café? It wasn’t like she’d been killed there or anything. Why weren’t they over in front of Holly’s house?
Once I could breathe again, I grabbed the paper and unfolded it. Of course, the murder was page one news. Island Socialite Murdered, the headline shouted, while the subtext added, Body found on private beach, police interviewing persons of interest. According to the byline, it was written by the regular cops reporter. Becky was listed as a contributor to the story. I tossed it aside without reading it. I didn’t have the stomach for it right now. I put the truck back in drive and took off.
I’d Googled Adele’s address. She lived on the east side of Daybreak Harbor on a small residential street filled with tiny cabin-style homes. I drove slowly, looking for house numbers. Adele’s was at the end of the street on the left. Her number, 414, was missing the last 4. Her beat-up van was in the driveway. I parked Grandpa’s truck behind it and climbed out, making my way to the front porch. The house looked like it had once been a fresh green color, but it had faded to almost gray over time. The porch sagged. I saw a cat dart into the space underneath it. I wondered if she had her own feral cats on the property, or if it had been one of her house cats.
I rang the bell and waited. Nothing. I knocked in case the doorbell didn’t work. Still nothing. Now I was getting concerned. What if she’d fallen and hurt herself? Or what if the cops had come and hauled her away overnight? I pulled out my cell phone and called her mobile, the only number I had for her.
And I heard the phone ringing.
I followed the sound off the porch and around the side of the house, where I found a gate leading to a small backyard. I pushed the gate open. Adele sat at an old-school picnic table, like the kind with the built-in benches my grandparents had when I was little. At Grandpa’s, that picnic table had long since been replaced by new, more modern patio furniture made from weather-resistant wood or some kind of plastic or whatever. I kind of liked the old style myself.
Adele didn’t turn when I opened the gate. I saw her cell phone on the table, still vibrating and ringing at the same time, next to a giant box of wine and a half-empty glass. My mouth dropped open. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning.
“Adele?” I made my way over to the table. She glanced up, but didn’t seem surprised to see me. She didn’t seem … anything. Her face had no affect at all. She held a half-smoked cigarette between her index and middle fingers but it appeared she’d forgotten to smoke it. Ash dropped off the end and drifted away on the morning breeze. The harsh smell of the cigarette warred with the comforting scent of salt air that permeated the island.
“Maddie,” she said, picking up the glass again, but had to put it down as she dissolved into a coughing fit. This woman did not appear to take very good care of herself. “What are you doing here? How’d you know where I lived?”
“I Googled your address,” I said. “I was worried because I thought you were coming to the café this morning.”
Adele took a puff from her cigarette and ground the rest out. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to embarrass you when the cops show up to arrest me.” Her voice sounded extra hoarse today. I cringed thinking of her poor lungs.
“Adele.” I sat down, even though she hadn’t invited me yet. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, please.” She shot me a look of pure skepticism. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard. Your grandpa’s still got an in with the cops.”
I didn’t tell her Katrina had come over with the news last night. “Why do you think the cops are coming for you? They already talked to you. They’ve been talking to everyone who had an issue with Holly. It’s entirely normal.”
Adele took a generous swig of wine. Another cat peered out from behind a toppled-over wheelbarrow a few feet away. Adele made smoochy noises. “Come here, Tux,” she cooed, her entire voice changing. The cat crept cautiously toward her and sniffed the fingers she held out. “My babies,” she told me, stroking the cat. “Everything I do, I do for these cats.”
“I know. They’re very lucky to have you.”
“Yeah. And what’ll happen to them when I can’t take care of them anymore?” She looked away, furiously blinking back tears.
“Adele.” I almost reached over and squeezed her hand, but I was not the touchy-feely type and clearly neither was she. It didn’t seem like a good idea for either of us, so I refrained. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Why do you care?” she snapped. “You barely know me.”
It was true. But she’d come highly recommended by Katrina, and in the couple months I’d known her, she’d impressed me. Not so much with her winning personality—she was perpetually abrasive, even when people didn’t annoy her as much as Holly Hawthorne—but with how big her heart was. Plus her deep knowledge of cats in general, and also how much she knew about the island and where to find all the strays and ferals. She’d told me in which neighborhoods the colonies lived, which people helped her feed the cats and which ones threatened to call the police on her when she showed up in the middle of the night to leave them food. And there was nothing she wouldn’t do for a cat, day or night. I’d heard she got up at two A.M. at times to go out and feed the cats.
So I’d opened up our house and the café to her. And while it had only been a short time, I depended on her.
I sighed. “Listen. I want to help you if I can. That’s what I do. You’re part of the café family. Talk to me.”
She was silent for so long I didn’t think she was going to speak at all, but finally she looked at me. “They think I killed that witch.”
“You mean Holly,” I said, stalling for time while I figured out how to answer that.
“Of course Holly, unless you know someone else who got dead lately.”
Thank goodness, no. “Why would they think that, Adele? Just because you guys had a … disagreement yesterday? Did something else happen between the two of you?” Maybe she’d let down her guard enough to tell me what else was up between her and Holly.
But she didn’t bite. Instead, she jerked her shoulder in a defensive shrug. “How would I know why? Ask your grandfather. They didn’t say it outright, but they asked about the cat toys I make, and when was the last time I’d seen Holly, and where I was yesterd
ay evening.” I could see her eyes fill, and she blinked furiously to hold the tears back. I felt like she’d rather die than cry in front of me.
“Adele. That’s common in these kinds of investigations. My grandpa even said so. They came over to talk to us at the café, too. Don’t make more of it than it is.”
She didn’t seem to hear me, or if she did, she chose to ignore it. “I’m not sure how wanting to do what’s best for the cats automatically makes me a murderess, but I guess that’s how it is around here,” she said. “Or maybe it’s your social standing that determines that. Anyways.” She stood abruptly, almost upending the wineglass. “I think it’d be bad for your place if I came back right now. So if this ever sorts itself out, we can talk. Meantime, Gigi’s your gal. I’ll make sure she knows to show up. You’ll have to help her along. She’s a bit … fragile. Needs some direction. But she’s not a bad kid. Just troubled these days.”
I stood too, a slight panic setting in. It was admirable of Adele to think of me. My place was brand-new and even though I was a known commodity on this island, I was still new to the business community here, and people needed to trust me. If I was affiliated with a murderer, that would not be good for business. But I still needed her, and I didn’t believe she’d done it. “But, Adele. I need you. And I believe you didn’t do anything.” I waited for her to agree with me.
She said nothing.
I went on anyway. “If you stop your entire life, people are going to think they’ve won. Or that they were right.”
Adele pulled her pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, tapped the box twice, then took one out and lit it. “Oh, honey,” she said, shaking her head at me. “You don’t get it. They’ve already won.”
Chapter 14
Despite my best efforts, Adele wouldn’t be convinced. I finally left with a feeling of unease sitting in the pit of my stomach. I’d just turned off her street when my cell phone rang. Becky.
“Hey,” I said.
“I need a quote,” she said, forgoing even a hello.
“About what?”
“What do you think? Holly, of course. I assume you know more than I do at this point, but I’ll settle for a quote about what happened at the café yesterday.”
“Why? She didn’t get killed at my café. There seems to be a lot of confusion about that,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“The local cable guys were out front taking pictures and getting ready to film this morning when I left.”
She muttered a curse. “Did you talk to them?”
“Yeah. I told them to go away.”
I heard her stifle a laugh. When she spoke again her tone was less manic. “Listen. We’re covering the Hawthorne house and what we know about who was there, but we can’t ignore what happened at your place. Especially since they’re talking to Adele.”
“What do you mean, who was there?”
“We know she and Heather were having a party.”
“Well, I’m sure they didn’t invite Adele, so that should kill that line of inquiry,” I said. “But I guess it’s out, then? That the police are talking to her?”
“It’s out, but the police won’t confirm people of interest.”
I chose my words carefully. Becky hadn’t mentioned Cole. If his part in this drama wasn’t clear yet, I didn’t want to tip her off and cause more problems for my sister. “The cops came to the house last night. I guess they’re retracing Holly’s steps from yesterday. But wouldn’t there have been someone else they’d go to first? They’re really working off the motive being a cat?”
“Hey, you never know,” Becky said. “People have killed over less, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. Seems flimsy to me though. Unless there’s something else between Adele and Holly?”
“Huh. I don’t know,” Becky said thoughtfully. “I’m actually surprised they aren’t looking at her sister.”
“Heather? You’re kidding.”
“Why? They’re both nuts,” Becky said. “And they’ve never been those twins who are joined at the hip. I don’t think they’ve ever gotten along.”
That was encouraging—at least for Adele. Although the potential level of family dysfunction was kind of horrifying.
“Talk about juicy, though, right?” Becky went on. “I mean, it’s crazy and disturbing, of course. But I’m hearing all kinds of stories about what killed her. The cops haven’t confirmed cause of death yet. Morris! Why aren’t you out getting reactions from the neighborhood?” she yelled to one of the reporters.
I heard a muffled male voice trying to defend himself, but she cut him right off.
“Go. I need reactions online by noon the latest. God. They need written invitations to do their jobs. So. A quote?” she asked me.
I sighed. “I’m shocked and saddened by the news,” I said.
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say?” I asked, exasperated.
“Fine. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
I disconnected and tossed my phone into the center console. The fact that the cat toy down Holly’s throat hadn’t hit the news yet made me feel a bit better, though I wasn’t sure why. If the cops weren’t officially releasing the information about that bizarre fact yet, maybe they weren’t completely convinced it was Adele. And maybe Becky was right and they were looking into her sister.
But why would Heather choose that method of death? She saw a cat toy lying around on the floor and suddenly decided it made sense to choke her sister with it? Doubtful. Plus there was the whole complication of having a cat toy with no cat to play with it. That alone would suggest the killer brought it with him or her, and would have a reason to have it.
I drove back home, thoughts churning through my brain. Something about that whole conversation with Adele bothered me. Maybe it was her fatalistic attitude. She definitely acted like her life was over, like they’d already proved her guilty and she was on her way to death row or something. Had she done it? My gut said no. Sure, she had a temper and would go to bat for anything she believed in, but that didn’t make her a killer.
No, I think what bothered me was that she sounded like she’d given up. Like just because she didn’t have the same social status or bank account as Holly Hawthorne, she wouldn’t be given a fair shake.
I wondered about Holly’s personal life. Was she seeing someone? Was she having an affair with Cole? If not, why had he been there? I didn’t buy Grandpa’s vague answer about the Tanners and Hawthornes being such good buddies. So many questions, and the answers seemed few and far between.
I pulled into our driveway. Luckily there was no TV crew in sight. Grandpa was out front talking to Leopard Man. It was hot today, so he had an abbreviated leopard outfit on: black Bermuda shorts and a leopard-print tank top, with leopard flip-flops. He had to have this stuff custom made.
I got out of the car, waved at them and headed for the house.
“Maddie!” Grandpa called.
Reluctantly, I turned. “Yeah?”
He motioned me over.
“I have to get ready to open,” I said, but went anyway because that’s what you did when Grandpa Leo beckoned.
Leopard Man smiled at me. “Good morning. And where is your sidekick?”
“JJ slept in today,” I said. “You know how spoiled cats are. Although I’m sure he’s now annoyed that he hasn’t had breakfast yet. Unless Ethan fed him one of his tropical fruit muffins, which are out of this world, by the way.”
Grandpa perked up. “Do we get to try them before you open? You know, to make sure they’re good enough for the customers?”
“I’m sure Ethan will give you a taste,” I said. “I’ve already had two of them. Quality control.”
“Where were you?” Grandpa asked.
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him I’d been to see Adele. I wasn’t supposed to be talking about any of this. Although theoretically, I hadn’t broken Grandpa’s confidence. I hadn’t said a wo
rd about Cole.
“I went to see Adele. She was supposed to be here this morning and never showed up, and I was worried.”
That look passed through Grandpa’s eyes. The one he’d gotten when he was a cop and his investigation had taken a turn he didn’t necessarily like. “I see,” he said. “And how is she?”
I shrugged. “Not too great, honestly. But that’s to be expected, I guess. I’ll see you inside.” I made a beeline for the front door, feeling them both watching me as I went.
Chapter 15
Once inside, I did a quick walk-through of the main room to be sure no one had coughed up a hairball or anything. The cats had all been perfect angels while I was gone. Most of them were lounging in their trees or beds. Georgia sat in the window, oblivious to the chain of events she’d set off, tail swishing as she eyed a bird that had stopped at the feeder in the yard. Grandma had loved birds and had feeders everywhere, including a couple of hummingbird feeders. Grandpa and I took turns filling them every morning. I loved when the birds came. Especially the cardinals. I knew cardinals meant a deceased loved one was visiting, so now every time I saw one I imagined Grandma was sending us a message.
Ethan and I had pretty much opened the café on a wing and a prayer, wanting to take advantage of the last month of tourist season and a jam-packed island. Because of this, we’d set our hours as “introductory” and reserved the right to change them. Like today, we’d committed to opening for the afternoon, from noon to four. If people expressed a desire to have morning hours, we’d revisit that. Our hours over the winter months would be different anyway, and we’d have the whole season to do our work on the house/café and really get things in order. Right now, we had to take advantage of the end-of-summer crowds.
I could smell more lovely aromas from the kitchen. Ethan was falling into this role nicely. But he was right. We needed a real place to cook and bake. It was so frustrating. We had money to fix the place, thanks to the anonymous benefactor who had swooped in and saved Grandpa from having to sell the house. There were two stipulations, however. The first was that he did something to help the island cats here, which was where we came in. We’d satisfied that requirement. Now it was like the old adage about going shopping with no money and finding a million things you want to buy, but when you have money, you can’t find anything. We had money to spend, yet there was no contractor to do the work. And I was impatient. Hopefully Adele’s nephew would fit the bill. And have the time. I wish I’d asked her this morning if she’d called Gabe, but it hardly seemed the right time. I had his number still in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans. I made a mental note to call him myself when I had a minute today.