1 A Paw-sible Theory

by Anna Kern

  “Thank you and I’d also like to speak to George.”

  “It so happens, I spoke to him a little while ago and he should be here any time.”

  The interview with Bernice was short, as she didn’t have a lot to tell him.

  Charvette, conservatively dressed in a navy blue skirt and a light blue sweater set, appeared to be in her late forties, not unattractive but she wouldn’t have stood out in a group of women her age. A quiet look of desperation hung over her, though nothing she said or did alluded to that. She was pleasant and eager to answer his questions but didn’t have any additional information to add to what we already knew. However, I did notice her hesitance when he asked a routine question about her former employer, Rupert Moresby, in order to establish her background.

  That got me thinking. Charvette had been at the hospital shortly after they admitted Alyx. How did she know Alyx was in the hospital? She said she had heard the 911 call go out on some sort of radio, but that wasn’t necessarily true. So what was she doing there? And why was she so interested in hearing what Dr. Casey was saying when she pretended to be looking for something in her purse as an excuse for lingering? Then there was the thing about the flowers. Maggie had caught that but had dismissed it as irrelevant. How did Charvette know who sent the flowers since there was no name on the card?

  Maggie told Hunter he was welcome to use the office if he wanted to speak to George and Hunter said he did. She left and, while he waited, he made a call to his assistant. Luckily, I overheard.

  “I need you to make a few appointments for me as soon as possible. First, call Maggie Broeck and set up a time when she can meet me at Ms. Hille’s house; try for tomorrow. Also, call Rupert Moresby of Moresby Realty, and Novie Moresby, Ocean Street Café, and tell both of them that I’ll be stopping by to talk to them in the next two days. Just get a general time frame from them.”

  “Also,” he continued, “call Dan Ramsey, and make an appointment for a specific time, and make it at his convenience. Since you’ll be taking a lunch late, take your time coming back.”

  “I gave an order to a cat, and the cat gave it to its tail.”

  ––Chinese Proverb

  CHAPTER TWENTY: A Crook or Whistle Blower

  Tired and hungry, I was profoundly grateful that Hunter was able to interview George Lucas at Antiques & Designs instead of his home. I had accompanied Alyx to Lucas’s house once or twice and I knew that George lived in a rural area outside the city limits. There were a few farms and some homes, mostly on large tracts of land––some large enough to have horses. His house was a modest two-story home with a detached garage and a large shed separate from the house. A long, dirt driveway led to the house, guarded by gigantic Florida pines. The large shed was full of broken furniture, pieces of furniture, lumber and a large inventory of architectural items. In contrast to the shed, the living room was clean, uncluttered, and tastefully decorated. He had told Alyx that very few pieces were authentic––the rest were reissues or reconstructed. Some parts were authentic, some parts not.

  Luckily, I did not have to travel so far out today. The two men were settled at one of the antique tables in the front showroom. I listened in from behind a potted palm.

  “I read an article in the Times,” said George, “that said the hot market for modernist furniture is calling into question the authenticity of the pieces as they are rebuilt, repainted, reproduced, or newly assembled. I read that a twentieth-century trestle table sold for over three million dollars. I’d hate to be the owner of that piece and then discover that it wasn’t authentic.”

  Hunter asked him if he used authentic parts to reconstruct the items he sold.

  “Yes, I do, but not just with modern pieces, I also do it with antiques and other pieces of furniture.”

  George quickly provided an explanation.

  “Antiques & Designs’ customers are fully aware of what they’re buying. I put a sticker on the back of each piece I work on, with my signature and an explanation of what was done to the piece.”

  “Do you have other clients besides Antiques & Designs?” asked the lawyer, checking his ever-present recorder.

  “I’ve had other clients in the past. Lately, I just work for myself––selling at flea markets and shows, and Antiques & Designs.”

  “Did your other clients disclose the origins of the pieces they sold?”

  “I prefer not to answer that, if you don’t mind. Buyer beware has always been understood with antiques and it’s the same now with modernist furniture.”

  “How long have you known Alyx?”

  “We’ve run into each other at antique fairs and estate sales for years, and she always made a purchase or two at antique shows and fairs for just as long.”

  “Do you tell all your customers about the authenticity of your pieces?”

  A terse, “Yes, I do,” was his answer.

  “Do you know anything that might help Ethan’s case? Anything you heard or saw that seemed unusual?”

  “I regret to say, no.”

  “What about Antiques & Designs’ other employees? Ever hear them discuss any grievances?”

  He shook his head. “I never heard them say one derogatory word about Alyx or Maggie. Customers here are treated well and seem to appreciate it, as far as I know.”

  “Just to make sure I have this right––you and Alyx never argued about making customers aware of the authenticity of the pieces you worked on?”

  George stood up. “No, there has never been a question about it, and if you don’t mind I have a lot of work to finish.”

  The interview was obviously over. Hunter turned off the recorder and handed Lucas his card. “It’s my job to ask unpleasant questions. Please call me if you have anything to add to our conversation, and thank you for your time.”

  Hunter received a call from his assistant as George left the room and I gathered from the one-way conversation that Dan Ramsey had agreed to see him on short notice.

  “Please would you tell me,” said Alice, a little timidly...“why your cat grins like that.”

  ––Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Important Appointment

  Chaos greeted my entrance. The name of the store was Ramsey’s Collectibles––what I saw when I slid through the partially-open back door was junk. The shelves along the walls of the narrow room were overflowing with assorted items that had nothing to do with each other. There were several tables and other pieces of furniture in the middle of the room piled with bulging boxes. Up against one wall, was a small, glass display case filled with small figurines, which I assumed were the collectibles the store name implied.

  Hunter entered from the front entrance and scanned the room for signs of life, positioning himself by a display case, which also served as a counter. He asked a clerk to see Dan Ramsey and the un-kept, surly teenager slouching in a chair behind the display case pointed to the ring for service bell at the end of the display case. Hunter hit it twice, and Dan Ramsey crawled out from behind a wall in the rear of the store, to my right. Another scruffy-looking youth, older than the one behind the counter, followed him out.

  Ramsey was about sixty-years old, heavyset with a full head of white hair, and dark, button eyes. He was dressed in jeans, a loud flowered-shirt, and flip-flops on his feet.

  “You must be the lawyer who wanted to see me. I don’t get too many people in here dressed in a suit. It makes it too hard to dig through the junk,” he chuckled, as he slid behind the counter.

  “I appreciate you seeing me so soon, Mr. Ramsey.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured that someone told you that Alyx Hille and I have our differences––and I don’t deny that––but she and that partner of hers have all these hoity-toity ideas about our downtown and they’ve managed to talk other owners into making unnecessary changes. They’ve tried to change the essence of Ocean Street, the flavor of the place, and I won’t stand for it if I can help it!”

  “Do you feel stron
gly enough about stopping her to want to kill her, maybe?”

  The hands in his pockets came out and slammed on the counter. “I agreed to see you, buddy, because I couldn’t wait to tell you that on the day in question, I was out of town at a flea market. At least a dozen regular dealers can testify that they saw me there from six in the morning to late afternoon.” His eyes narrowed. “And just for the record, I don’t know anything about what happened to Ms. Hille––and I can’t say I care!” He turned abruptly and went back to the hole behind the wall.

  Although, I was truly exhausted, not to mention hungry, I couldn’t go home yet.

  “In a cat’s eye all things belong to cats.”

  ––English Proverb

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A Business Deal

  Although the outside of the building looked like Antiques & Designs, the inside of Ocean Street Café was different. The restaurant took up half of the downstairs, the rest was divided into retail stores––a candle shop, a jewelry store, and a candy store. In square footage, it was roughly twice the size.

  Novie Moresby was behind the mahogany checkout counter––I was in the vicinity.

  “Mrs. Moresby, I represent Ethan Hille and I have a couple of questions to ask you. I can see you’re busy, I’ll try to be brief.”

  “I hope I can help you, but I don’t see how. Of course, I know Alyx and Ethan; they used to come in often when they first opened their store and Ethan still lived at home. I see Alyx all the time, but Ethan only occasionally.”

  “When was the last time you saw them in here?”

  “Let’s see now. I think they were in here for breakfast about a week ago.”

  “What kind of relationship did they appear to have?”

  “The kind every parent hopes for when they first think about having children. It was obvious they had love and respect for each other.”

  “Did you ever hear them argue?”

  “Not any of the times I saw them together.”

  “Would you be willing to testify to that?”

  “Yes, I certainly would.”

  “Earlier I spoke to your husband about the real estate proposition he presented to Maggie Broeck. What do you know about it?”

  “Just that the Dunne Development Company wants to buy our two buildings,” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “Did your husband mention any stipulation about the developer buying both buildings?”

  “No, he didn’t mention anything like that.”

  “Did he mention whose idea it was?”

  She looked puzzled for a second. “I don’t recall discussing it with him specifically, but I got the impression that Dunne Development approached him.”

  “I understand you own this building. How do you feel about selling it?”

  One of her employees walked in the door, interrupting before she could answer.

  “Excuse me, Novie, there seems to be a problem with the soda order. What’s being delivered isn’t what was ordered, and Mike wants you to talk to the delivery guy.” Novie shook her head in resignation, “They never get that order right; tell Mike I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter. What did you ask me?”

  “I asked how you felt about selling this building.”

  “I inherited this building from my parents and when my husband first mentioned it, I was against it. A few years ago, no one was interested in opening a business here. All the department stores moved to the Mall while others went out of business. In some cases, the owners died and family members weren’t interested in keeping the businesses going. There were just a few die-hard businesses that hung on: the lamp store down the street, the fruit-shipping store, and a few others. After my parents passed away, I decided this was my opportunity to fulfill my dream and theirs. It was a slow start but business has really boomed during the last three years. Anyway, my husband Rupert explained that I could still rent the space and keep the Ocean Street Café since the developer was not going to make any changes to the first floor; I told him I’d consider it. I know he wants me to sell, but I’m still thinking about it. Can you wait a few minutes while I take care of this soda problem?”

  He looked at his watch for confirmation. “Actually, I have what I need for the time being, and I do have another appointment.” He reached out to shake her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.” He gave her his business card and told her he’d be in touch.

  “As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the human kind.”

  ––Cleveland Amory

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The Opportune Time to Act

  I took a shortcut home and when I rounded the corner, I saw David Hunter’s car parked in the convenience store’s parking lot. The clerk inside the store barely glanced at the customers as she rang up their purchases, took their money, and made change. Naturally, I wanted to know why Hunter was sitting in his car, watching the clerk so intently. Hunter waited until the customers had all cleared out before he went in. I followed right behind him, unnoticed. I barely escaped having my tail clipped as the door shut automatically behind me.

  Hunter asked the clerk if she was Sally Wakowycz, introduced himself, and told her why he was there. Sally was willing to answer his questions but didn’t remember seeing Ethan that particular Saturday morning. She told him if it had been busy, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him because as she got older she had to concentrate harder on what she was doing. This last statement was said sotto voce as she looked around to make sure no one else was within hearing range.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help to you. I do remember Ethan––a handsome young man, and always polite. He may have been in the store on that particular day, and I just don’t remember seeing him.”

  Hunter thanked her for her time, gave her his card, picked up a pack of gum, and paid for it with a five-dollar bill. He pocketed the change, and glanced at the receipt before dropping it in the trash can by the door.

  She called out to him as he was halfway out the door, “How about the sales receipt? It has a date and time on it. Would that help?”

  “Only if we can find it.”

  I scooted out of the automatic door which was closing slowly––again behind Hunter––being careful not to let him see me. I took off at a gallop before he left the parking lot, and arrived home at the same time as Maggie, barely making it through the front door before she did. I don’t know how long it was before I heard the doorbell. Maggie let Hunter in, making the usual small talk as she led him to the kitchen.

  “Did you have any trouble finding the house?”

  “No, not at all. I was early and took a short drive around the residential area. I didn’t realize how much has undergone redevelopment. This is a very attractive neighborhood.”

  “The redevelopment only extends a couple of miles around downtown, but I’m sure as more people rediscover the charm of these old houses, it will spread out.”

  “I see why you were being offered more than double what you paid for your property. The area definitely has potential,” he remarked.

  “I agree, and I realize it seems foolish of me to even consider selling our building, but we could have bought or rented somewhere else and made a nice profit.”

  Maggie pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, inviting him to do the same. Uninvited, I jumped up and sat on the chair next to Hunter, watching every move the lawyer made.

  “I spoke with Ethan and he told me that he stopped at the convenience store around the corner to buy cat treats before you arrived.” Hunter interrupted himself, looked directly at me, and asked Maggie if I was an indoor or an outdoor cat.

  “Oh, they’re strictly indoor cats. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I saw him or another cat that looks just like him around town.” The lawyer scowled and gave me a puzzled look.

  “Well, Murfy is full of surprises and you
never know what he’s up to, but I don’t think it was him.”

  Hunter didn’t look convinced.

  “Getting back to what I was saying. The prosecutor, Everett Bixby has a witness who says he saw an SUV in your driveway ten minutes earlier than the time Ethan told the police he arrived. Ethan explained that he often brought cat treats and half-way up the driveway he realized he’d forgotten to buy any so he backed up and drove to the convenience store around the corner.”

  “That’s true,” said Maggie. “Whenever he forgets, Misty doesn’t leave him alone, pawing at his pockets looking for her treat.”

  “Ethan stated that he had the bag in his hands when he walked in the house and put it on the counter. In your statement, you said you were right behind him. Did you see him with a bag?”

  “I’m sorry; I don’t remember one way or the other. No, wait. I did see the cat treats there,” Maggie said, pointing to the counter next to the stove. “One day when I was here to feed the cats, I noticed one of the cats was missing, and I grabbed the treats from the bag to entice her back into the house.”

  “Did you see a receipt anywhere?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Is there anything left of the treats?”

  “No, the cats didn’t like them, so I threw them in the trash. Why?”

  “At the very least, it proves that Ethan didn’t lie about going to the convenience store.”

  Maggie’s face was crestfallen. “I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have tossed them.”

  “Not your fault,” said Hunter. “You had no way of knowing. Not much we can do about it now.”

  She gave him a weak smile.

  “Alyx said the pot she was hit with was right up here on the end,” Hunter stated as he stood up. “I always considered the space between cabinets and the ceiling wasted space, but I see Alyx made good use of it.”

  He was referring to the baskets of different sizes and shapes, some with silk plants spilling out; several copper items, and three pieces of pottery––all made by Ethan––that lined the highest reaches of the kitchen. He reached for the copper bowl next to where the pot had been. At six feet one, Hunter was one inch shorter than Ethan, and had no problem bringing it down.