by Linda Reilly
Lara felt her legs wobble. She recognized the woman as the one who’d entered the gym shortly after Miss Plouffe had. Lara hesitated only for a moment, then squeezed through the crowd over to the panic-stricken woman. “Where?”
“The gym,” the woman said in a shaky voice. “Hurry.”
Gideon had already pulled out his cell phone and was calling 9-1-1. He followed behind Lara and the woman, all while giving instructions to the emergency operator.
The closer they got to the gym, the more light-headed Lara felt. She reminded herself to take deep, calming breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in—
By the time they reached the gym, her head felt a bit clearer. Until she saw Gladys Plouffe, lying faceup on the gymnasium floor. A man huddled over her, one hand flattened over his fist as he pumped her chest. “Come on, Gladys, breathe!” he screamed.
Lara froze. Gladys’s face was purple, her eyes wide open. In one outstretched hand she clutched the remains of a Christmas cookie. Lara recognized the cookie.
It was a Santa carrying a burlap sack stuffed with candy crunch gifts.
Chapter 4
By the time the paramedics wheeled Miss Plouffe into the ambulance, the snow had begun to accumulate. The sky had darkened to a dull ash-gray. Fortunately, Lara had been detained only for a short time. No one knew what had caused the deadly reaction in Gladys—only that it had been a fatal one.
All of the cookie sellers had been instructed to leave the building. Each was asked to give their contact info to the officer stationed at the exit. A few of the cookie sellers grumbled, but they packed up their belongings and shuffled out.
Two police cars were parked in front of the school. Lara suspected that by the time the police wrapped up things inside the school, they’d have a few inches of snow to brush off the cars.
Lara insisted that her aunt stay inside the Saturn while the car warmed up. Lara retrieved her windshield brush from the trunk and swiped the wet mixture off the windows. Hot tears stung her cheeks, blending into the cold flakes. When she was through, she flung the brush onto the back seat and slipped into the driver’s seat.
They drove home in silence. Beneath her warm jacket, Lara shivered. She knew she and her aunt were thinking the same thing: Was it Daisy’s cookie that made Gladys violently ill?
If Aunt Fran had any words of comfort to offer, she didn’t voice them. The horror of the situation seemed to numb them both. Lara wondered if Daisy had been informed yet. Had the police contacted her? Or was she sitting at home biting her nails, waiting to receive the email announcing the winner of the cookie challenge?
Gideon, bless him, had gone ahead, following one of the police cars to the station. In case they decided to bring Daisy in for questioning, he wanted to be there for her.
Sherry was going to be devastated. Lara hated even thinking about it.
Lara pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. She held her aunt’s arm with an iron grip as they mounted the snow-coated porch steps. Once inside, Lara took her aunt’s coat and scarf and hung them to dry in the utility room. She threw her own jacket over the back of a kitchen chair. “I’ll do a little shoveling later,” Lara said. “We’re only supposed to get a few inches.”
Her aunt nodded but said nothing.
At the sound of human activity, a posse of felines trailed into the kitchen. Snowball rubbed against Lara’s leg, and Lara swept the cat into her arms. She plopped Snowball onto her shoulder, the cat’s favorite perch, and held her gently in place.
“Some tea?” Lara asked her aunt and reached for the kettle.
“I think we could both use some, yes.” Aunt Fran’s face was white, and her eyes looked damp. She went over to the counter for a tissue and blew her nose.
Lara filled the kettle with water and set it down on the burner. She couldn’t help smiling when Valenteena trotted into the kitchen. The assertive little feline with the valentine chin would not be ignored. She issued a loud mewl and grabbed at Lara’s leg.
“Ow. Your claw is stuck again, Teena.” Still clutching Snowball, she gently unhitched the claw and rubbed Valenteena’s head. While the water heated, she removed a package of Cat Nips from the fridge and fed some to the cats.
A few minutes later, Lara and Aunt Fran were settled at the kitchen table, two mugs of steaming tea before them. Dolce had already found his way into Aunt Fran’s lap, and Snowball had flipped into Lara’s. If it hadn’t been for Miss Plouffe’s horrible death, it would have felt like a cozy scene.
“I want to talk about it, but I don’t want to talk about it, you know?” Lara said.
Her aunt reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know. What started as a fun day turned into a nightmare.”
Lara felt tears slide down her cheeks. She wanted to cry, really break down in sobs, but she didn’t want to make Aunt Fran feel worse. “P-poor Miss Plouffe. I guess nobody liked her, but she didn’t deserve to go like that. Her face, it was...”
Purple, Lara thought. As if she’d fought for every last breath.
“I know,” Aunt Fran soothed. “But try not to think about that part of it. There’s nothing you can do to help her now.”
Lara squeezed her mug to warm her hands. “Okay, let’s think about this. Daisy wouldn’t have put anything bad in her cookies. That’s a given. All she cared about was winning the contest. Ergo, it couldn’t have been the cookie that killed Miss Plouffe, right? I mean, only a crazy person would poison someone openly!”
“I agree, Lara, but sometimes things aren’t as simple as they seem.”
Lara felt a sudden shard of guilt rip through her. She’d been thinking more about Daisy than about the victim.
“The sad part is,” Aunt Fran went on, “that the poor woman didn’t seem to have any friends. I wonder who they notified of her death.”
“Maybe...you know, you could ask someone?” Snowball purred in Lara’s lap as if to emphasize the point.
“Hint, hint?” Aunt Fran smiled weakly. “I’m sure I won’t even get a chance to talk to Jerry until tomorrow. And you know how tight-lipped he is about official police business.”
“Ohhh, yes. I’ve been lectured about it many times.” Lara sagged in her chair. “Maybe I’m overthinking this. Once they do an autopsy and figure out how she died, they’ll know Daisy had nothing to do with it, right?”
Lara’s cell suddenly pinged with a text. She felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m afraid to look.” Biting her lip, she dug the phone out of her pocket. “It’s from Sherry.” Lara read the text to herself:
Mom and me at police station. Cops think Miss Plouffe died from allergic reaction, something on the cookie. I’m sick.
Lara dropped the phone on the table and covered her face with her hands.
“What is it?” Aunt Fran said.
Lara pushed the phone over to her. “This is bad, Aunt Fran. Really bad. We have to figure out how to help Daisy.”
Chapter 5
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Lara skimmed the mystery letter for the umpteenth time. In all the uproar after seeing Miss Plouffe’s body, she’d forgotten all about it. Each time she reread it, she tried to glean something new, but the message only grew more baffling.
The part that bugged her most was the blue-eyed cat—the cat whose spirit supposedly “floated off to care for a new life.”
Had that cat been Blue? If not, it was sure one crazy coincidence.
But then, the entire letter might be bogus. Who’d write something like that and shove it between the pages of a library book? Chances were good it wouldn’t be found for years, if ever.
According to the letter, the murder was committed exactly one week before March 9, 1990. March 2, 1990 was the day Lara was born. Had Blue been her spirit cat from the beginning?
Valenteena leaped onto the bed and plopped herself between Lara’s crossed legs. Lar
a smiled and stroked the cat, tickling the heart-shaped marking on her chin. “You don’t like being ignored, do you, baby girl?”
Once more, she read the cryptic letter. Who wrote it? How did it end up in a recipe book for cat treats? Did someone snatch a random book from the shelf and tuck it in there? Or had the person who penned the note already had it in his or her possession?
Either way, it was almost thirty years old. No way would she dare show it to Chief Whitley now.
Tomorrow was Sunday, which was not an adoption day. Kayla, a vet tech student at a local college, was scheduled to begin work at eleven. Lara loved days when Kayla was there. The young woman adored cats, and in turn, the cats reveled in the attention she lavished on them. With Kayla at the shelter, Lara would have the opportunity to help Sherry and Daisy, assuming there was anything she could do.
Daisy must be a wreck. Lara had tried to reach Sherry earlier, but her call went to voice mail. Either she and her mom weren’t taking calls, or they were still at the police station.
From the braided rug next to Lara’s bed, Snowball stared up at her. Lara patted the bed. “Come on, sweetie, there’s room for you, too.”
The cat hesitated for a moment, then leaped up and rubbed her face against Lara’s arm. Teena made a growly sound, expressing her disapproval, then settled onto Lara’s folded legs to prevent any trespassers from invading her territory.
Lara smiled at their antics. She pulled Snowball close, letting the cat know she was welcome and loved. The cats gave her spirits such a lift, especially when things took a grim turn, as they’d done today.
On several occasions, Snowball had been passed over for adoption. Lara suspected her unusual eye color might have had something to do with it. A cat with different-colored eyes was too odd for some people. Ridiculous, Lara thought, but she felt sure the right person was out there for Snowball.
Lara folded the letter carefully and dropped it into the plastic bag she was storing it in. She couldn’t think anymore. She was terrified for Daisy.
The toxic substance. That was the wild card. What had killed Miss Plouffe?
Whatever it was, Lara wouldn’t get any answers this evening.
Christmas was nipping at their heels. So far, Lara had done zero shopping. Aunt Fran was easy to please, but this would be Lara’s first Christmas having a man she loved in her life, and she had no clue what to buy him.
She couldn’t think about that now. Daisy might be in some serious trouble. If she was, Sherry would be inconsolable. The mom and daughter had been on their own since Sherry was a kid, and for a while they’d really struggled. Opening the coffee shop had been the best thing they’d ever done. Sherry was a natural with customers, and Daisy made the best comfort food in town.
Lara turned down her quilted bedspread and scooted under the covers. She checked to be sure her sealed bag of cat treats was within easy reach. Teena would be pouncing on her around three in the morning to demand a tasty snack. Lara laughed at how easily she’d fallen under Teena’s demanding spell.
From his perch on the cat tree in the corner of her room, Ballou watched her. Not once had the feral cat come close enough for Lara to touch. He’d allowed Kayla to stroke his head a few times, but only when he was curious enough to check out the treats hidden in her hand.
Lara switched off her bedside lamp. Something else was tapping at the door of her memory. Something she should have remembered.
What was it?
Chapter 6
Early Sunday morning, Lara was awakened by someone attempting to strangle her. She groaned and tried to twist away, but the culprit was unrelenting.
Lara’s eyes flew open. Valenteena stood balancing on her neck, one paw batting at her hair.
With a groan, Lara moved the little cat to one side and kissed her chin. “You could at least let me breathe,” she mumbled. “And you ate at three fifteen. How can you want breakfast already?”
Squashing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, Lara shuffled out of bed in her stocking feet and peeked through the slats of her blind. About two inches of snow had fallen, coating the yard and the trees. Sunrise was at least a half hour away. Lara imagined she was peering into a magical world, the snow a layer of marshmallow fluff and the maple tree a chocolate decoration.
Then reality struck. The events of the day before slammed her like a blow to the stomach.
With a sinking feeling, Lara went downstairs and fed the cats. After that she shrugged on her winter jacket, wrapped her scarf around her neck, and headed outside. Relieved that she’d remembered to leave the snow shovel on the front porch, she cleared the porch and walkway. The snow was a light, powdery fluff, which made the task a quick one. After that she shoveled the driveway and brushed the snow off the Saturn.
By the time she was through, it was only 7:20. Her aunt hadn’t stirred. No doubt she’d had a restless night. Aunt Fran and Daisy had been friends since the cooling of the Earth. Daisy’s predicament had to be weighing heavily on her.
A feeling of dread in her stomach, Lara left a quick note for her aunt and then walked the short distance to the coffee shop. Although the roads had been plowed, there were few cars out this early. The sidewalk was slick in spots, and she nearly fell twice.
The enticing warmth of the coffee shop normally cheered Lara, but today it failed miserably. Jill, the new employee, was bustling around behind the counter. She looked frazzled, trying to keep up with everyone’s demands.
“Oh, thank God for a friendly face,” Jill said. In her midthirties with short dark hair, she wore a jeweled eyebrow ring with matching red earrings. The cheery smile Lara had grown accustomed to seeing was missing.
Jill plunked down a mug of coffee in front of Lara, grimacing when some of it sloshed over the side. “Sorry about that. I’m, like, a mess today.” Jill reached for a cloth, but Lara stopped her with an outstretched hand.
“I’ll get it, Jill. It’s only a few drops.” She snagged a few napkins from the stainless holder on the counter and sopped up the spill.
Jill leaned forward. “I don’t know how Daisy and Sherry did this alone for so long. What were they thinking? Plus, everyone’s grumbling like crazy about the slow service today. You’d think people could give us a break, you know?”
“I hear you. Where are they, by the way?” Lara asked quietly.
“They were both in the kitchen, but I think Daisy took a powder. Sherry’s been doing most of the cooking. You can imagine how that’s going. And Daisy...oh, Lara, she swore she’d never bake another cookie again as long as she lived!”
A man in the dining area shoved his coffee mug in the air and yelled, “Hey, Jill, you ever gonna get me that refill, or do I have to wait for Santa Claus to bring it?”
“Coming,” Jill trilled and rolled her eyes.
“I wish I could help,” Lara said.
“Can you pour coffee?”
“It’s one of my primary talents.”
“Good. I just made a fresh pot. Can you go around the dining room and give out refills?”
“You got it. Let me just peel off my jacket.”
Lara removed her jacket and draped it over her stool. Jill set the steaming pot on the counter. “Be careful, okay? It’s easier than you think to scald a customer.”
Great, Lara thought. She pasted on a grin and went into the dining area. She started at the table where the man who’d yelled loudest sat. “Refill, sir?”
“Yeah, thanks. Finally.”
Lara poured carefully, shot him a forced smile, then refilled the mugs of at least five other customers. Her pot was nearly empty when she reached the last table. A man sat alone, his elbow propped on the table. His dull brown hair was mussed, and his pale gray eyes red-rimmed. “Coffee?” Lara asked him.
The man nodded. “Might as well. Can’t get food in my stomach.”
In that moment, Lara reco
gnized him. He was the man who’d tried to save Miss Plouffe in the gymnasium the day before. If Lara had to guess, she’d say he was in his thirties, but he could have been as young as twenty. The remnants of acne made him appear more youthful.
“I saw you yesterday,” Lara said. She refilled his mug, emptying her pot. “You tried to revive Miss Plouffe, didn’t you?”
The man stared up at her. “Uh...yeah, I did. Was that you who came in with Rose?”
“I’m not sure who the woman was, but yes, that was me.”
“Rose Stevens. She was judging the bar cookies. Supposed to, anyway. Everything went to the devil in a handbasket after Gladys bought it.” He shook his head. “Sorry. That was crude of me.”
“No problem,” Lara said. “What were you doing at the school?”
The man sighed. “I work there, in the cafeteria. The principal asked if I’d help out with the cookie contest, so I went in early yesterday morning and set up all the displays.” He shrugged. “It took me a while, but I liked getting the overtime. These days, every penny counts.”
“It was a nice presentation,” Lara said. “You did a great job.”
He nodded glumly. “Thanks.”
Lara felt bad for the man. He’d tried valiantly to pump life into Gladys Plouffe, with no luck. No doubt he felt distraught over his failure to save her. “May I ask your name?”
For the first time, he smiled feebly. “Jason Blakely,” he said. “Yours?”
“I’m Lara Caphart. I live with my aunt at the High Cliff Shelter for Cats.”
His smile brightened at the word cats. “Really? I love cats. Can’t have one though. The apartment where I live doesn’t allow them. Stupid, right?”
“Shortsighted,” Lara said carefully. “And misguided.” It was a known fact that having a pet was good for people’s emotional well-being. This wasn’t, however, an ideal time to hop onto her soapbox. Her own landlady from her Boston days hadn’t allowed cats either. She’d been convinced that cat hairs would work their way through the air vents and contaminate her first-floor bakery. “Does Rose work at the school, too?”