Cat in the Flock (Dreamslippers Book 1)

by Lisa Brunette

  Cat looked over at Jim to see him holding onto Ruthie a little too hard and desperately, his tears falling onto her face. Sherrie pulled her delicately from his arms and gave her to Granny Grace, who walked her into the kitchen. Sherrie bent down in front of Jim and took his hands in hers.

  "It's time to really come clean, Jim," she said. "Talk to us."

  "Sherrie, I—"

  Cat stepped in. "It's all over anyway, Jim. The sheriff has reopened Larry's case. They're going to find this e-mail. Everything’s coming out."

  "It was Anita, wasn't it?" Sherrie said. "She killed Larry. Goddamn Anita. She and Reynolds are the ones who really run that church. You just think you're in charge." She was quiet for a moment, and then it all dawned on her. "Oh, God, Jim. Did you help her cover it up that night? You were gone so long..."

  Jim looked painfully at the e-mail message in Cat's hand, and then at Sherrie.

  "Yes," he conceded. "I helped her clean it up." It was as if everything in the man broke in that admission. He crumpled into himself. "Larry's suicide. Oh, God, Larry. I'm so sorry. I helped her fake it. It was the only way. It was the only way to save the church. She'd overheard him on the phone with me. She knew and she—"

  Cat thought of something then. “Where was Ruthie that night? Was she spending the night at the church? Was she with the Baby Bible Brigade?”

  Both Sherrie and Jim looked at her and nodded.

  “Ruthie heard you and Anita,” Cat said to Jim. “She knows Anita used your gun on Larry.”

  “She was there?” asked Sherrie, as if pieces of evidence were coming into place together in her mind’s eye. “You always took her to Larry’s office,” she said to Jim. “She would have looked for you… She liked to wander around the church...” She looked at Jim angrily. “How dare you drag her into this… nightmare.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sherrie,” Jim pleaded. “I failed you. I failed the Lord.”

  After observing him cry a few rounds, Sherrie touched the side of Jim's face. "Honey, it's over. You have to let us go now. Do you understand that? It's over, Jim."

  Jim kept nodding as Sherrie spoke. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you or Sherrie. You’re my angels. I'm sorry."

  "Let us go, Jim. You have to let us go."

  He nodded again and cupped his hands around Sherrie's face. "I know," he said. "You have to leave me now. God will take care of you, Sherrie."

  Sherrie embraced him and then walked over to her brother Greg, who hugged her tightly. Then they both joined Granny Grace and Ruthie in the kitchen.

  Jim collapsed onto the fainting couch, defeated. He looked up at Cat, suddenly aware of her presence.

  "Security girl. You went out to St. Louis? You were undercover in my church?"

  "Yes, I was, Jim."

  He laughed bitterly and swept his hand through his thinning hair. "You really gave ol' Anita a scare. She thought you were going to blow the whole thing wide open. And I guess she was right."

  "You've been in contact with Anita? She told you I was there?"

  "Yes," Jim said.

  Cat walked out of the room, whipped her cell phone out of her pocket, and found Tim Schlein's number in her recent list. "Anita Briggs knows we're onto her," she told him.

  "That explains it then," Tim said. "We haven't been able to find her."

  Cat thanked him, told him to keep her posted, and hung up. She regarded Jim again, sitting on the fainting couch, his face buried in one hand. "Larry loved you, Jim," Cat said. "How could you do it?"

  "I loved Larry," Jim said. "Despite years of trying not to love that man, I loved him. But in the end, it was the church I loved more." He began to sob again.

  Cat let him be, joining the others in the kitchen. Something told her he was too beaten down to present a flight risk. He was finally allowing himself the room to grieve Larry's death.

  Granny Grace had phoned the police to let them know that Jim was there and that they could call off the search for Sherrie. She also rang Dave and Simon to tell them about the developments in their case. Only five minutes away, they arrived before the police did, and Dave, appalled that it was closing in on dinnertime and no one in the house had eaten yet that day, began making everyone an impromptu meal in the Terra Cotta Cocina.

  So everyone except Jim was in the kitchen, like a reunion of misfits. Sherrie sidled over to Cat, offering her a piece of bread. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth when you first found us," she apologized. She had a pretty, rounded face, but these months on the run had obviously been hard on her, with dark circles smudging the skin under her eyes and tired lines etched into her cheeks.

  "I can't say I blame you," Cat said, taking the bread. "You thought Jim killed someone."

  "We all thought he was a killer," commented Dave, who was standing at the stove. "I was sure it was a case of gay self-hatred."

  Greg was standing at the counter, brushing Ruthie's hair. "I was sure it was all about the church's self-preservation instinct," he said.

  "How did you end up with Jim in the first place?" Cat asked Sherrie. "I know about your work for Diamond Dick's."

  "I did the rehab program at a church in St. Louis," she explained. "It worked for me, and you know, I really do believe in God. I know this sounds crazy, but I got a sign from Him to go there in the first place. I was walking down the street, looking for the guy I usually bought stuff from. I was like a zombie, numb because I'd lost Ruthie. The courts had taken her away from me, put her in foster care. I needed something, and this woman stepped out in front of me, blocking my path. She had a flyer in her hand.

  "It was for this church—not Jim's church, but one in the inner city. Salvation Evangelical. 'God will listen,' was printed across the top. Well, it seemed like I hadn't had anybody to talk to in forever, and I realized that if I got my fix, I'd just need another one after that, and another, and no amount of fixes in the world would stop the pain of losing Ruthie. So I turned around and went to the church instead. Just went in and sat there. I'd been there for hours when someone came and sat down next to me."

  "The church took me in, and I did their rehab program. I met Jim when he came for a weeklong workshop, and I guess... I knew he wanted to save me, and I let him. He helped me get Ruthie back. I tried to love him, but it wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I couldn't live that way in his house any longer. I tried. I really did. But it's stifling to be Jim's wife. It was too far to come from where I'd been: a drug addict, a stripper. Jim wouldn't even let me wear makeup."

  At that, Cat led Sherrie down the hall to Cat's bedroom where the Raggedy Ann doll was perched on her mantel.

  "I have to ask you this," Cat said, picking up the doll. She raised the doll's skirt to show her the scribbles and deep gouges from the pen. "Did Ruthie mark this doll like this?"

  When she saw the doll, Sherrie broke down crying, putting her hand over her mouth. She nodded, took the doll from Cat and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the doll in her embrace as if it were childhood itself.

  Cat waited for her to calm down, and then Sherrie explained. "Jim reprimanded Ruthie for every little thing that looked like she was headed down the path of 'whoredom,' like her mother, no doubt. He screamed at her all the time for touching herself. I asked my doctor, and it's totally normal for kids her age to explore their bodies."

  "So Ruthie scratched up her doll herself out of shame," Cat said.

  Her words set Sherrie off crying again, and all she could do was nod.

  "It's not your fault," Cat comforted her. "You tried to give her what you thought was a good home."

  Cat reached into her own pocket and touched the pink barrette that she'd found in the empty condo the night Sherrie and Ruthie had disappeared on her. She'd been carrying it with her all this time. She showed it to Sherrie. "Let's give this back to Ruthie," she suggested, and the two of them walked back into the kitchen.

  Cat went over to Ruthie, who was still at the counter, with a tray of olives that Dave had set
in front of her.

  "Do you remember me from a long time ago?" she asked the girl.

  Ruthie was playing with the olives and had several stuck to the ends of her fingers. She looked up into Cat's face.

  "You're the lady who scared Mommy," she said. "Before Uncle Greg took us away to Boyd's."

  "I'm sorry I scared your Mommy. And you," Cat said. "I didn't expect to see you two there in that icky old building."

  "It's okay," Ruthie said.

  Cat held out her hand with the pink barrette in it. "I think you left this there."

  Ruthie snatched it up right away. "My hair glitter!" She ran over to her mother, showing her the barrette. "Mommy, look! My hair glitter. That lady found it."

  Ruthie burrowed into her mother's lap.

  Jim appeared in the doorway then, to everyone's surprise. He stood in the doorway tentatively, as if unsure he'd be welcome. Granny Grace leapt up and motioned for him to take her seat.

  Dave turned from the pot he'd been stirring and looked at Jim quizzically, assessing him. He waited for him to settle in his seat. "I just have one question for you, Mr. Plantation," he said.

  Jim startled, as if coming out of a fog. "What's that? A question?"

  "Yes. If you didn't go over there to kill Larry that night, why did you go over there?"

  Jim stared at Dave for a long time. Simon, who'd been chopping vegetables for a salad, paused mid-chop. Greg and Sherrie watched intently.

  "I want to know what you were feeling that night, Jim," continued Dave. "You've got nothing to lose." He waved his hand at the gathering there in the kitchen. "Right now, this is the closest thing to family you've got. And you're staring at a man who's as gay as they come. But I was married to a woman once, too. So here's your chance to really come clean."

  Jim paused, looking at every face in the room. All were staring back at him expectantly.

  "Larry was in pain," Jim finally said. "He was in pain, and I wanted to... comfort him. He had failed to cleanse himself of sin, and I wanted to... tell him it was okay, that I would take care of him, no matter what."

  "And if the truth had come out?"

  Jim paused. "Honestly... I would have been... relieved."

  "So when Anita killed Larry, she wasn't just killing him to keep it quiet," Dave observed. "She was killing him to end the love between you, once and for all."

  Jim hung his head, recognizing the truth in Dave's words. "Yes."

  The room was quiet for a long minute. And then, Simon spoke to Jim: "You haven't had much to eat yourself lately, have you?"

  Jim raised his head, surprised. "Oh, no. I guess not. I haven't been hungry."

  "Here," he said, placing a bowl of olive oil and vinegar and some bread on the table in front of him.

  "God bless you," Jim said. And then Jim looked at Sherrie, offering his hand. "Will you say grace with me, one last time?"

  Granny Grace grabbed Jim's other hand. "We'll all say grace with you, Jim," she offered, and one by one, everyone around the table joined hands.

  Jim led them in grace, saying the lines first alone and then a second time with every voice in the room joining him. "Bless this food, oh Lord," he said. "Let it nourish our bodies that we might be cleansed of our sins. We are not worthy of such gifts, but we give thanks in Jesus’ name, all the same."

  They ate in silence at first, as if the intake of sustenance had become a hallowed event. But then Greg broke the spell by making a silly face at Ruthie, who laughed. Cat thought the sound of her giggle was like church bells.

  As they were cleaning up the kitchen afterward, the police arrived, and Granny Grace startled them by waltzing back to the kitchen, where the suspect they were apprehending was drying wet dishes with a towel. Bewildered, they somewhat reluctantly waited for him to finish his chore before reading him his rights and placing him in handcuffs. Greg distracted Ruthie with a book in the parlor so she wouldn't have to witness her stepfather being arrested.

  When the police began to read Jim his rights, instead of remaining silent, he began confessing at once, in an even, measured, resigned tone. "So help me God," he said. "Larry Price was murdered. Anita Briggs killed him. I not only kept her secret, but I helped her cover it up." He said this once, and then he repeated it two more times. As the police led him out to the squad car, he looked up into the sky, now covered in thick, velvety grey clouds, and said, "Lord, have mercy on me."

  Dave and Simon left Granny Grace's after congratulating Cat on solving her first case. Granny Grace installed Sherrie and Ruthie in the Perfectly Pink Parlor, where they both fell asleep at once.

  Cat walked Greg to the front door, and he lingered there a moment, seeming a bit awkward with her after all they'd been through over the past twenty-four hours.

  "I don't know how to thank you," he said. "You saved my sister's life. Twice."

  "Oh, I think you get the credit for that," she countered.

  "No, Cat. Really. I'll never forget your courage, and your care." He leaned toward her and then wrapped her in a bear hug. His touch made her feel zingy, which again caught her off guard.

  When they separated, he stood there for a few seconds, as if mulling something over. "You know," he said. "I'm aware that this could be gratitude, or exhaustion, or any number of other things, but it could also be just what it feels like. So I'm going to assume it is... and ask you out on a date."

  "Oh!" Cat exclaimed, surprised, but not completely. She paused. "That could be good," she said, stammering a bit. "I think."

  Greg chuckled. "You think, huh? Well, take some time with it, Nancy Drew. There's no hurry. We both need some sleep, and at least one of us needs a shower, and it's not you."

  "I'm sort of dating someone," she blurted. Greg looked immediately crestfallen, but then he recovered.

  "Well, 'sort of' implies there's some doubt," he said. "So, think it over anyway."

  Cat nodded, too tired for further clarification, even to herself. They said good-bye, Greg smiling wistfully as he turned to go.

  Then at last, it was just Cat and Granny Grace left awake in the house. They found themselves standing in the den, finally alone.

  "Well done, my dear," her grandmother said, turning to her. "Really. I'm quite impressed. So impressed that I'm thinking you should name your agency after yourself instead of me."

  "Really, Gran? But I wanted to keep Grace, to honor you by."

  "That's very sweet of you, but you'll soon have more name recognition than I do at this point, Miss McCormick. This case will put you on the map. You're going to be very busy from now on. Trust me."

  "Thank you," Cat said. "To tell the truth, the whole time I was working this case, I doubted I could pull it off."

  "Well, don't ever doubt yourself again."

  Granny went over to a side table and poured Cat a brandy. They both collapsed into chairs, their feet up on footstools.

  "So whatever happened with the mayor?" Cat asked, her mind filtering down to a question she'd been meaning to ask her grandmother for a week or so. At least it seemed like it had been that long. Time was feeling a bit mushy these days.

  "I wrapped that up before you flew home. It was a simple case, really, but he paid me handsomely for it. Enough to wipe out my little debt problems."

  Cat sat up. "Granny Grace! Are you serious?"

  "I told you the Buddha was right," she said, winking.

  "Can you tell me how you solved it?"

  "Sure," she said, putting her drink down and sitting up so she could tell the story properly, with hand gestures and all.

  "Remember I told you about the two tests, the differing results, and the mayor's son having undergone tutoring?"

  "Yes."

  "I went and found the proctor for that test and interviewed him. It turns out there'd been a fire drill that day. He assured me that no one could have cheated during the fire drill. Both students had been present and accounted for during the drill."

  "So how did the cheater get away with copying the
test?"

  "Well, I asked the ACT people to do a full comparison, question by question, of each student's first and second tests. They found that the other student got the same types of answers wrong on the second test that he'd answered correctly on the first, and vice versa."

  "Good," said Cat. "Was that enough?"

  "Almost," said Granny Grace. "But you know how these things are. You need three good pieces of evidence to clear a name. So I had them send me copies of the actual tests myself. I noticed that the other kid's second test was hastily filled in, as if he'd done it in a hurry. Furthermore, it hadn't been filled in by the same hand. His first test was filled in entirely in a left-handed manner. His second test was mostly filled in by someone who is right-handed, which he is not. So he must have had a right-handed accomplice, someone who got both tests during the commotion of the fire drill—maybe the cheater slipped them to his buddy, or maybe his buddy got into the room during the drill. He filled in the tests while our cheater was busy being recorded as present in the parking lot during the drill."

  "What do you mean, a 'left-handed manner'?"

  "Right-handed people fill in the dots in a clockwise motion," explained Granny Grace. "Left-handers go counterclockwise."

  "Crazy," mused Cat. "And you solved the case without any dreamslipping."

  "Well, you can't always count on that," said Granny Grace.

  "So how much did the mayor pay you, if you don't mind my asking?"

  "Half the price of tuition at Yale for a year," smiled Granny Grace, picking up her drink again.

  Cat clinked her glass against hers. "Well done, Grandmother Amazeballs."

  They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. Then Cat noticed them: a dozen roses, sitting there on the mantel.

  "From one of your admirers?" she asked, gesturing toward them.

  "Nope," Granny Grace replied. "One of yours. In the commotion, I forgot to tell you about them. They came while you were away."