Claws for Celebration

by Linda Reilly

  “Rose, are you okay?” Lara called out.

  Alice stomped over to Rose and aimed the rifle at her. “You—you caused all this trouble,” she screamed. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone?”

  “Alice, don’t do this,” Rose pleaded. “I don’t want anything from you. I never did. I only want to go home to my family.”

  “Your family,” Alice taunted. “What about my family? My real family?”

  “I had nothing to do with that,” Rose said. “But you...I saw you hold the pillow. You kept it there, so she would stop breathing. And then that beautiful cat, she tried to stop you, but you didn’t care. You just kept pressing the pillow—” Rose broke into a sob.

  “That cat nearly scratched the skin off my hands. I had to tell Todd I’d gotten a violent rash and scratched it myself!” Alice sucked in a hard sob and swabbed at her cheek. “Then suddenly they both stopped moving—the old witch and the cat. They died together, like some freak show act. The vet told Todd afterward the cat died of a broken heart because she’d watched Eugenia pass.”

  Lara felt tears streaming down her cheeks. She died trying to stop you, trying to save the lady she loved.

  “Why, Alice? What did Eugenia ever do to you?”

  Alice’s lip curled. “She was going to tell Todd everything—about his uncle. Lovable, charming rogue Uncle Tate, who seduced a young woman during one of his rare trips back home. He was much older, of course. The poor woman—I heard she fell hard for him, head over heels. When she told him she was pregnant, he refused to marry her. She had the baby, and Eugenia secretly arranged for a private adoption. Right here in town.”

  Lara closed her eyes. Oh...my God.

  She remembered what Todd had said only a few hours earlier. Alice’s mom and dad were in their forties when they got her. That’s what he’d meant, that Alice was adopted. At the time, Lara had wondered, but then decided it would be rude to ask.

  “The baby. It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Eugenia knew Todd and I were in love, that we planned a future together. During every one of his school vacations, we were inseparable. She said if I didn’t break it off, she’d tell him everything—every last sordid detail about my parentage.”

  “When did you know,” Lara asked, her voice quivering, “that you and Todd were first cousins?”

  Alice lowered the rifle slightly, but her expression burned with fury. “I found out when I was still in high school. My adoptive mom was dying. She didn’t want to go to her grave without my knowing.”

  “That’s why you never wanted children, isn’t it?” Lara said.

  Alice’s eyes blazed at her. “Who told you that? Todd?”

  Lara nodded.

  “Todd should have kept his big mouth shut. We’re fine the way we are. Why did we need kids cluttering up our lives?”

  “Fine the way you are? Separate but equal?”

  Alice shifted her rifle to one side, then reached down and slapped Lara. This time Lara felt her teeth rattle. Fresh tears pricked her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

  She shivered violently. She was so cold, she couldn’t feel her fingers—or much of anything else. Rose must be frozen, too, and her family had to be worried sick.

  Was Aunt Fran wondering what had delayed Lara? Probably not. She’d figure Lara had stopped to see Gideon, and they’d decided to head out for dinner.

  Except Aunt Fran knew Lara always kept her in the loop, especially if she made last-minute plans. So why hadn’t her cell phone rung? And where was Gideon? Why hadn’t he called her to make plans for Friday night?

  On second thought, Lara was grateful the phone hadn’t rung. If Alice heard it, she’d snatch it away from her and shut it down—or destroy it. This way, at least she had a chance.

  Her cell was in her coat pocket, but with her hands and wrists bound so tightly, she couldn’t reach it. She leaned over and lay on one side, her cheek resting on the frigid snow, hoping she could stretch her hands far enough to slide her fingers into her pocket.

  A sudden flurry of movement caught Lara’s eye. Blue, right there beside her, her paw digging frantically at her coat pocket. Lara leaned her hands away as far as she could, hoping to give her guardian cat a better angle.

  Alice swung the rifle and aimed it directly at Lara. “What are you doing?”

  “I-I’m just so cold,” Lara said. “I’m trying to get warm. Please, Alice, it doesn’t have to end this way. You did a crazy, impulsive thing when you were practically a kid. Don’t make it worse by killing us, too. You won’t get away with it. Didn’t you ever watch those forensics shows on TV? The police always figure it out.”

  Alice hesitated, then she turned the rifle back toward Rose. “None of this, none of this would be necessary if this little gold digger over here hadn’t started it. Did you think I’d just keep paying, Rosalba? Did you think you could just keep draining me?”

  Rose sobbed openly now. “I never asked you for money. I only asked you to turn yourself in, to confess to the police what you did. But you just kept sending me cash—money I never asked you for!”

  Lara heard their voices fade into the background, as if they were moving away from her. Was her mind shutting down from the cold? Was this how it was going to end?

  She blinked, trying to stay awake. Then a rectangle of light beside her jolted her senses. A spark of hope flickered through her.

  Her cell phone—it rested next to her now. Alice, who was unleashing her wrath on Rose, was temporarily distracted. With her bound hands, Lara pulled the phone closer. She saw several missed calls and texts. Strange, why hadn’t she heard them? She found Gideon’s most recent text. Without reading it, and with a finger she could barely feel, she tapped out a response: Code Blu hi school.

  Then something soft and warm filled the curve of her chest, suffusing her body with unexpected heat.

  She pushed the phone beneath her coat and prayed.

  * * * *

  Voices. Somewhere in the distance.

  How long had she lain there?

  Lord, she was cold. She’d give anything to have that moldy blanket back.

  Moldy blanket...the pickup truck...she was starting to remember. Where was she?

  Lara lifted her head. Pain seared through it like a hot blade. She dropped it back to the frozen snow, then turned her body slowly, until she lay on her back.

  Stars, above her. Were they in the sky, or in her head? Was she in heaven or a hot place?

  No, definitely not a hot place. She still felt chilled straight down to the marrow of her bones.

  Once more, she tried lifting her head. This time, in her fuzzy line of vison, she saw Alice Gentry struggling with Rose. Trying to shove Rose into the back of the pickup, screaming at her to move faster or she’d shoot her.

  Racked by a harsh shiver, she dropped her head to the snow.

  “Lara!”

  The sound came from far, far away. Had she imagined it?

  Footsteps, pounding toward her like horses’ hooves. This time, she fought the pain and lifted her head higher. Dark-clothed figures raced toward her, their boots crunching through the snow as they closed the distance.

  “Lara!” someone yelled.

  “Drop the rifle!” someone else ordered.

  A man dropped down beside her in the snow and draped himself over her. She recognized the clean scent of the soap he always used. Over and over, he said her name. Then he sat up and rubbed her arms briskly with his gloved hands. “Give me that blanket, now,” Gideon said urgently to someone.

  Something warm was pulled over her and tucked around her. “You...got the text,” she whispered.

  “I called you a thousand times, but you didn’t answer,” Gideon cried.

  Lara couldn’t explain it. Somehow, the sound on her cell had gotten turned off. “Rose...sh-she okay?” she said, her te
eth chattering.

  “I think so. You’re both going to the hospital now. I just heard one of the cops call for ambulances.”

  “No.” Lara shook her head, which felt as if golf balls were being tossed around inside. “I’m okay. Wanna go home.”

  Somewhere off to her left, she heard Alice sob as her rights were being read to her. As two uniformed officers led her past Lara, Lara reached up a hand. “Wait! Please...I need to ask. Alice, why...did you kill Miss Plouffe?”

  Alice stopped dead in her tracks. Her face looked like something from a horror film, her once lovely features twisted from hatred and rage. “Are you stupid?” she spat out. “I didn’t kill Miss Plouffe. Why would I? She was my mother.”

  Chapter 31

  Lara lost the battle over going to the hospital.

  Minutes after Gideon and the police arrived, she was whisked away in an ambulance, the siren whining in her ears. In the emergency room, after a battery of tests, she was diagnosed with a mild concussion. The doctor insisted on keeping her overnight for observation. Her instructions for the next several days: rest, rest, and more rest.

  Rose Stevens, Lara later learned, had also been rushed to the hospital. After treatment for hypothermia, she was released later that evening. Her husband had been frantic when he’d found her car in the lot at the Shop-Along, groceries in the trunk but no sign of Rose. When he’d gotten the call from the police that his wife had been located, he’d sped to the hospital, nearly collapsing at her side by the time he reached her.

  Lara sat up in her bed, plump pillows propped behind her, Teena and Purrcy wrestling for position beside her. “If the doctor tells me to rest one more day I’m going to scream,” Lara said, tickling the heart under Teena’s chin. “I need to work, and I need to paint.”

  The watercolor she was anxious to get back to had languished in her studio for three days. The doctor had advised against performing any action that required straining her brain. “Mental rest is as important as physical rest,” he’d sternly lectured, then given a reluctant nod. “I know you’re an artist, and I know you’re anxious to paint, but I’d suggest you hold off for at least a few more days.”

  “He doesn’t get it, does he?” Lara complained to the cats. “Painting is as natural to me as breathing, so where does the mental strain come in?” She huffed out a frustrated sigh.

  “Talking to yourself?” Gideon said, tapping his knuckles on the slightly open door.

  “Gid! Oh, good glory, I’m glad to see you.”

  He went over to Lara and reached down to envelop her in a hug. The hug lasted a long time, but Lara didn’t mind. As far as she was concerned, it could last forever.

  When Gideon felt Teena’s claws sink into his Christmas sweater, he said, “Ow,” and gently unhooked himself. He rubbed her furry head, and she squeaked out a meow.

  He looked so handsome in his green knitted sweater, the one with a grinning reindeer embroidered on the front. Despite his cheery smile, his brown eyes held a deep well of concern, and his face was more drawn than usual. Lara knew that the incident with Alice Gentry had frightened him. Badly.

  Lara patted the bed. “Sit. Talk to me. I feel like a prisoner in here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and sat close to her. He took her hand in his. “I finally have some news I can share, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to rest.”

  Lara closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her mouth. She repeated the action and then said, “There, I’m relaxed, just like the doctor said. Now tell me everything you know.”

  Gideon snugged in closer to her. “Okay, I’ll start with Rose. The police impounded her car and got a warrant to search it. They found a FedEx box addressed to Rose from Alice Gentry. The box had been opened, and it was stuffed with cash—to the tune of eighty thousand dollars.”

  Lara gasped. “Eighty grand?”

  “Yup. Rose had apparently been receiving cash from Alice over the past three years. It started when Rose contacted her and begged her to confess what she’d done. First, she received an envelope with ten thousand, then twenty, and on and on until she had eighty grand. She tried telling Alice she didn’t want the money, but it kept coming. Rose was afraid to send it back—she didn’t know what to do.”

  Lara dragged her mind back three days earlier, to that awful scene behind the school. “I remember Rose saying she’d never wanted the money. She only wanted to go home to her family.”

  Gideon shifted to let Purrcy climb onto his lap. “As it stands now, the police are inclined to believe her. That night, she claims, she’d asked Alice to meet her around six at the vacant strip mall across the street from the Shop-Along. She was going to give the money back, all of it, and beg Alice one more time to confess to suffocating Eugenia Thryce.”

  “Poor Rose,” Lara said, shaking her head. “Imagine the torment she’s been going through all these years. Not to mention the danger she put herself in by meeting Alice alone.”

  Gideon looked troubled. “It never occurred to her that Alice might be dangerous. Rose is a wonderfully kind woman, but she’s also more than a little naïve.”

  “What I still don’t understand,” Lara said, frowning, “is why she didn’t go to the police when she first witnessed it.”

  A smile swept across Gideon’s handsome features. “Actually, Rose would like to explain that to you herself. She’s downstairs with Fran. You feel up to joining them?”

  Lara squealed and shoved her hand at Gideon’s thigh. “Get up. Let me get dressed.”

  Ten minutes later, wearing a pink fleece sweater, black sweats, and fuzzy slippers with cat faces on the toes, Lara shuffled into the kitchen. Rose had been sitting at the table, sipping from a mug emblazoned with polar bears. When she saw Lara, tears filled her eyes, and she got up and gave her a huge hug.

  “Please sit, Rose,” Lara said.

  Her aunt came over with a plate of pumpkin squares. “The recipe makes about four thousand of these things, so there’ll be plenty left for Jerry’s birthday dinner. Meanwhile, you can all taste test them for me.” She poured a mug of tea for Lara.

  “Thanks, Aunt Fran,” Lara said.

  Rose dabbed at her eyes with the holiday napkin Aunt Fran had given her. “I wanted to explain...about the letter,” she said. “That day, at the nursing home, the grandson had gotten permission to bring her beautiful cat there to see her. Her stomach”—Rose patted her own abdomen—“it hurt so much. That’s why she was so mean to everyone. The pain made her half-crazy.”

  “Why didn’t they take her to the hospital?” Lara asked.

  Rose shook her head. “She’d been, many times. They always brought her back. There wasn’t much more they could do, and she insisted she didn’t want to die in the hospital. She wanted to go home, but she was too sick.”

  “So Todd Thryce brought her cat in.”

  “Yes, he brought in the fluffy cat in a carrier. Oh, that woman was so happy! You should have seen her face. The nurse said the cat could stay for a few hours, but then it had to go home.”

  “Rose, before you go on, what part of the nursing home did you work in?” Lara asked.

  She took in a deep breath before answering. “The kitchen, helping with food preparation. I also delivered meals to patients. That’s how I got to know Mrs. Thryce. Her doctor had given orders to feed her special meals six times a day, because of her condition. It was a strain on the kitchen workers—there was never enough help—but I was happy to do it, even if I had to work a little extra for no pay. I was young then. I had more energy than I do now.” She laughed slightly.

  Lara easily imagined this compassionate woman putting in overtime for no pay. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Go ahead, Rose.”

  “I know you’re all busy, so I’ll try to be quick. In Italy, where I was born, some of the old people used to make drinks called amari
to help with digestion. In Italian, amaro means bitter. My great-grandfather was a big believer in them. And they are bitter, made from things like quinine and anise, sometimes with herbs. I thought maybe I could help Mrs. Thryce by giving her a little each day. You know, to help with the stomach troubles.”

  Oh boy. Lara saw where this was going.

  “We had some at home. The one my father used was mostly brandy, but with a few other things mixed in. Every day, when I knew no one was looking, I gave Mrs. Thryce a tiny bit. She hated the taste, but then for a while she’d feel better.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I only wanted to help.”

  Lara reached over and lightly squeezed her wrist. “I know you did, Rose.”

  “The grandson, he was so good to his grandma. That day, he left the cat with her. He told her he would be back for the cat but had errands to run first. I heard him say he was moving to New York the next day.” She blotted her eyes again. “After he was gone, his girlfriend came in. Mrs. Thryce had asked to see her alone. I know, because I heard her talking on the phone. She insisted on seeing Alice when her grandson wasn’t there.”

  Gideon caught Lara’s eye. He obviously knew the ending to the story.

  Rose took a fortifying sip of tea, then tasted a bite of her pumpkin square. “Mrs. Clarkson, these are delicious. But let me continue. That day, I had just given Mrs. Thryce a tiny sip of the amaro before her early afternoon meal. When I went back to get her tray, I saw them, Mrs. Thryce and the girlfriend. They were fighting, screaming at each other. I hid behind the door, afraid to let them see me. I prayed to the Lord, ‘Please make her go away, please make her leave Mrs. Thryce alone.’ I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You must have been terrified,” Lara said.

  Rose nodded. “Finally, everything got quiet, so I looked through the crack in the door. That woman, she was pressing the pillow to Mrs. Thryce’s face. Poor Mrs. Thryce—she wasn’t even moving. But that beautiful cat, she was clawing at the girlfriend’s hands, trying to make her stop.” Her face took on a strange expression, and her voice grew soft. “The cat, I saw her spirit leave. I know, you think I’m crazy, but to me it was as real as I am sitting here telling you.”