The Cat, the Lady and the Liar acitm-3

by Leann Sweeney

  I stopped my spoon before it reached my mouth. “What does that mean?”

  “These cousins aren’t likely to open up to me. From what Miss Longworth tells me, Muriel, in particular, isn’t exactly fond of men after what Belle’s cousin did to her. I was hoping you could help with them.” Tom bit into his Danish.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I was about to put myself in the middle of Ritaestelle and her cousins. I felt like I was becoming the town go-between.

  Tom finished chewing and then said, “Engage them. Get them to talk. You’re excellent at winning friends. In the meantime, I’ll deal with Farley and his mother, as well as Desmond Holloway.”

  “Desmond?” Ritaestelle said. “What could he possibly have to do with this? The man is harmless.”

  “Miss Longworth, with all due respect, you’ll have to let go of the reins if you expect me to do my job,” Tom said. “Desmond’s part of your life and needs investigating. I might also be able to wrangle information out of Nancy Shelton. I’ve been a cop. I know what buttons to push with her.”

  “You may know, but I sure don’t, Tom.” I set the spoon down. I’d lost my appetite. “I’m no private investigator. Can’t Kara help you?”

  “Kara? Think about that for a second,” Tom said.

  “Oh. The Messenger. I get it,” I said. “But—”

  “Listen, Jilly. Doing private eye work is about being charming, nice, and a little manipulative,” he said. “That’s the part you don’t like, and I know that. There’s also times when you have to be confrontational, but since that is way outside your comfort zone—like on another planet and in another lifetime—we’ll leave that to me.”

  Ritaestelle was paying close attention to her yogurt and coffee. She probably felt as if she couldn’t ask me to do anything else for her. But as strange as that may seem, that was what sold me. Being needed was important to me. And she needed my help.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “But you’ll have to be very specific about what I’m supposed to do.”

  Ritaestelle reached over and put a hand over mine. “Thank you, dear. You have no idea what this means to me.” Her eyes filled. “If only I had a family that included the likes of you two.”

  I smiled at her. “It’s okay, Ritaestelle. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “The bottom of your cups, I hope,” came a familiar voice behind me. Belle had arrived. She smiled and nodded at all of us, and I was happy that she’d chosen pink lipstick. But the applying of said lipstick? That hadn’t changed except that today she’d spread a straight line across her upper lip.

  “Why, Belle Lowry, you look amazing,” Ritaestelle said. “I must apologize to you for so many things, but why not start with how sorry I am that I did not keep in touch.”

  Belle sidled over to Ritaestelle’s chair, put an arm around her and squeezed her close. “You do not have to apologize to me. I am so thrilled to see you enjoying a cup of my coffee.”

  “I must say, this is the best cappuccino I have ever had—and this is from a woman who has enjoyed the same in Italy.” Ritaestelle held up her chocolate spoon. “But this cute little utensil? I don’t want to spoil it by stirring my coffee.”

  Belle grabbed a chair from the table next to ours and sat. “I understand from Tom there’s trouble and that we need to clear things up. How can I help?”

  Tom explained that we needed more information about the family from someone who might have a fresh perspective. “You pick up on the unspoken, Belle. You can read people. Tell us what you know from the days when your cousin was part of the family.”

  Belle cast a glance at Ritaestelle. “This is a tad awkward.”

  “Do not feel that way,” Ritaestelle said. “I have come to understand that something went quite wrong with my family a long time ago. I chose to pretend. I chose to look the other way. I can no longer do that.”

  Belle cleared her throat. “You want to know what I saw? Or what my cousin told me?”

  “Both,” Tom said.

  “Guess we should start with my cousin Ronnie.” Belle looked at Tom. “He’s the one who married Muriel. Loved her, too. He never cared about the family money, but apparently Ritaestelle’s sister-in-law Justine accused him of just that. Said who else would marry Muriel if it wasn’t for her money?”

  Oh boy. Why not get right to the heart of the matter, Belle? I thought. But if this bothered Ritaestelle, she didn’t let it show.

  “Anyone else have issues with your cousin?” Tom asked.

  Belle didn’t look at Ritaestelle when she said, “Ronnie was the one with the issues. He felt like Ritaestelle wouldn’t give him the time of day. Same thing with her brother, rest his soul.” She looked Ritaestelle straight in the eye. “He never felt part of the family. You were just too busy.”

  Ritaestelle closed her eyes and nodded slowly. “I have come to contemplate that very issue. I reached out to the needy in the community when the neediest of all were right next to me every day.”

  Belle’s already rosy cheeks turned a deeper shade. “Please don’t take what I’ve said the wrong way. You have done some fine things. Ronnie could have chosen another path. Sought guidance from our pastor. Seen a marriage counselor. Cheating on his wife? There’s no excuse for that. I told him as much, too.”

  “What else did you observe about the family?” Tom asked.

  Belle pondered the question for a few seconds. “I must say Augusta was always ready to tell it like it was. I appreciated that about her. But I also sensed some jealousy on her part. She was bothered that Muriel landed a husband and she hadn’t.”

  “Did the cousins seem jealous of Ritaestelle?” I asked.

  “You want my take, they were scared and jealous,” Belle said.

  “Scared?” Ritaestelle sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Scared you’d cut them off. You and your brother held the purse strings, plus those two did like to be in your company. Lord knows they weren’t the prettiest or most popular girls in school, were they?” Belle laughed, her gaze far off. “When you’re not pretty or popular, you tend to want to hang around those that are. And you and your brother were certainly the most popular pair in Woodcrest.”

  “Probably because of the family name, not because of our personalities,” Ritaestelle said.

  “Why, I never thought I’d hear you sell yourself short. You must feel very troubled,” Belle said.

  “These past few months have worn me down, Belle,” Ritaestelle said. “My reputation as an honest woman has been tarnished. All I can say is, some person knew exactly how to get to me.”

  “And had the access to do it,” Tom said. “That limits the possibilities. I know that you don’t want to go home, but can you call one of your cousins and ask that the people who live in the house be available for interviews?”

  “I’ll telephone George. He will make sure you have access to anything you need,” Ritaestelle said.

  “I forgot about the butler and the housekeeper. We’ll need to talk to them.” Tom looked at Belle. “Let’s get down to some real dirt, now. What have you heard?”

  Belle’s lips twisted into a pucker as she bit the side her mouth. She glanced at Ritaestelle.

  “Come on. This woman is tough. She can take it.” Tom lifted his cup and drained what was left of his coffee.

  “People think you did it, Ritaestelle,” Belle said softly. “They say you killed Evie Preston because she wouldn’t cover up for your shoplifting anymore.”

  “Do you believe that?” Ritaestelle said.

  “No. And here’s why. If you put up with that bunch of freeloaders living with you, and you never murdered one of them, why in the heck would you kill a girl you’d only known for what? A year, tops? Doesn’t make sense.” Belle nodded. “And that’s the truth.”

  Ritaestelle smiled. “I always did like you, Belle Lowry. Thank you for your honesty.”

  “We’ve got to get answers,” I said. The thought of helping Tom no longer seemed qu
ite so daunting. I could always count on Belle to say things that just plain made sense.

  Twenty-Two

  We finished our breakfast and coffee and walked outside, with Tom supporting Ritaestelle. This day promised to be a scorcher. The sign above the bank across the street told us that even though it was a little after ten in the morning, the temperature was already eighty-five degrees.

  Just as Tom was helping Ritaestelle into the front passenger seat of his Prius, Candace and Chief Shelton hurried toward us.

  “Glad we caught y’all.” Candace eyed me and mouthed the words, “We’re okay.” She certainly looked less stressed than she had when she left my house last night.

  “Caught? That could be taken more than one way,” Tom said.

  “Don’t be funny, Tom. We’d like to talk to Miss Longworth for a few minutes,” Candace said.

  “Is something wrong?” Ritaestelle said.

  “Not any more wrong than it already is,” Shelton said. “But I don’t think you want to discuss matters outside in this heat.”

  I wouldn’t want to either if I were wearing a blue suit like you are, I thought. Bet she wore those slacks to avoid the whole pantyhose thing.

  “I believe I have told you everything I know,” Ritaestelle said.

  “She’s done talking.” Tom looked down at Ritaestelle in the passenger seat of his car. “Buckle up, Miss Longworth. Wouldn’t want to give these officers any excuse to haul you down the street to the police station.” He shut the car door.

  Candace, hands on hips, looked steaming mad. “What is this about, Tom?”

  But Tom matched her with some anger of his own. “This is about the two of you bullying this woman. Do you honestly believe she had the strength to hit a vital young woman so hard that she knocked her out? Where’s the common sense in your investigation, huh, Candace?”

  Candace’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Shelton blurted, “Okay, so you’ve got a point. Plus we know she was drugged. Her urine test proved it.”

  “How did you get access to her medical test results?” Tom said.

  I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Maybe now they’d start listening to Ritaestelle.

  “We had a warrant.” Candace’s tone was flat. “Remember that little thing called probable cause from your police days, Tom? Miss Longworth found a body. Regardless of what you think or what Miss Longworth thinks, I’m doing this the right way. I’m collecting and following the evidence.”

  “I know you are, Candace.” I looked up at Tom. “And you know that, too, right?”

  Tom smiled. “Yeah, I do know. Not easy, is it, Candace?”

  She squinted at him for a second, and then cracked a smile herself. “Tom Stewart, you are gonna pay for this one day.”

  “You’re doing a damn fine job, Deputy Carson. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have this little PI assignment.” Tom turned to me. “Come on. We’ve got another stop to make.”

  I opened the back passenger door, and Tom started for the driver’s side.

  Shelton said, “Wait. When will Ritaestelle be coming home? Her family has been asking after her.”

  As Tom opened the car door, he said, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Chief? But she’s staying away from Woodcrest for now.”

  As we drove away, Ritaestelle said, “I am unclear about that particular interaction, but I do appreciate you speaking up for me, Mr. Stewart.”

  “That’s what you’re paying me for. Your friend Chief Shelton, I’m guessing, would love to have you back in Woodcrest so she could take over this investigation. Cops are territorial like that.”

  “Ah. Are you saying I should not trust Nancy?” Ritaestelle said.

  “For now, trust us,” Tom said. “But in the end, my money’s on Candace to figure this out—with our help.”

  I saw Ritaestelle nod her head in agreement. “Can I ask where we are driving to now in your precious little car?”

  “You are about to be reunited with another old friend,” Tom said.

  Five minutes later we pulled into the driveway of Karen Stewart’s cottage.

  “Why are we visiting your mother, Tom?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” He slid from behind the wheel, came around and helped Ritaestelle get out.

  But as we walked up the steps of her latticed porch, it dawned on me. Karen was in a relationship with Ed Duffy. And Ed had told us he’d once cared very much about Ritaestelle.

  Sure enough, both Karen and Ed met us at the front screen door. Karen wore a vintage-looking cotton print dress, belted at the waist and buttoned up to her neck. Ed’s shirt was clean and pressed—as Karen always made sure of when he was at home.

  “We’ve been expecting you,” Karen said as she opened the door for us to enter.

  The ceiling fan in Karen’s small, darkened living room was churning at high speed. She never ran the air conditioner, and I assumed all the heavy drapes were closed to keep the heat out as much as possible.

  Tom helped Ritaestelle to a mustard-colored velour rocker in the corner while saying, “Mom, this is Ritaestelle Longworth. Ed, you already know her, of course.”

  Ritaestelle’s eyes grew wide and her fingers covered her mouth for a few seconds. “Sweet Lord. Edwin Duffy? Is that really you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nice to see you again.” Ed stared at the floor, not at the woman he told us he had once loved.

  “I am never ma’am to you, Edwin. I will always be Ritaestelle.” She blinked rapidly, and I could see this was a poignant moment for her.

  “I’ve made fresh lemonade, so I’ll be right back,” Karen said.

  “Let me help you.” I followed her into the kitchen, wondering what in the heck Tom thought he was doing. Why did he want his poor mother to endure this reunion? I’d have to get some answers about this move.

  Unlike the cluttered shop where Ed spent most of his time, Karen’s small house was tidy and spotless. Just like the clothes she always wore, her kitchen was vintage—a stainless toaster still as shiny as the day she had bought it, a gleaming glass whistling teapot on the old gas range. The refrigerator was turquoise, rounded on the edges and small. She opened the door and took out a Fiestaware pitcher. Another pitcher holding ice water and sliced cucumbers sat near the sink.

  She placed the lemonade on a wooden tray she’d already set up with six glasses. Why six? Maybe she liked even numbers. That was something I would expect of Karen. Tom’s mother was an odd lady, with her dark, slick hair, deep blue eyes and commanding presence. Seemed like Ed preferred women who took charge.

  Karen said, “I never would have thought I would be entertaining one of Ed’s old girlfriends. Old in more ways than one. Forced him to tell me all about her, though. The man could have married into money. Instead he ended up with me.”

  “I’d say he got lucky,” I said with a smile. Karen might be peculiar, but she was good for Ed and he adored her. That gave me a hint about this visit. Karen, a recovering alcoholic, didn’t need secrets between herself and Ed. She’d found happiness, and my guess was that Tom wanted to keep it that way.

  “Would you mind carrying the ice water, Jillian?” Karen said.

  We both walked back into the living room, and soon everyone held his or her beverage of choice.

  Karen sat next to Ed, who’d trimmed his beard in the last few days. I had to say, at times his clothes and limited grooming reminded me of a cult leader, but not today. He sat as stiff as a soldier on the plaid couch with its wooden arms. But perhaps because of his confession to Karen about his old love Ritaestelle, he didn’t seem as anxious today as when we’d talked to him about her the other day.

  “Ritaestelle and Ed were just catching up,” Tom said. “But the reason we came today is that we hoped that you, Ed, could offer insight into why someone might want to set up Ritaestelle—make her look bad.” Tom went on to explain the details about the shoplifting accusations, the drugging, and a beloved cat that mysteriously found herself wandering by a
busy highway.

  While Tom talked, I kept glancing at Ritaestelle, but she kept her eyes focused on the cold glass she clung to with both hands.

  “I ain’t sure why you’re goin’ back fifty years, Tommy,” Ed said in his slow, measured tone. “Sure, everyone, ’specially the girls in school, suffered from envy when it came to Ritaestelle. Class president, valedictorian, and a pretty thing to boot. Seemed natural they’d be wantin’ some of that. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

  I noticed Ed was careful not to say he had also “wanted some of that.” Karen stared at him intently when he spoke of Ritaestelle. But not in a jealous way. Seemed to me she’d had a long talk with Ed about this woman.

  “Maybe history has nothing to do with the murder, though I doubt that,” Tom said. “Here’s the deal. Before I start talking to Ritaestelle’s family, I want to be armed with as much information as possible. Mom’s insistence that I become a Boy Scout taught me one thing—be prepared. This is personal to someone. Close and personal. A serial killer didn’t chase Evie into Jillian’s backyard.”

  “I sure as hell hope not,” Ed said.

  “What about her cousins Muriel and Augusta? Did you know them?” Tom said.

  “Sure. Everyone knew everyone in Woodcrest. Augusta was a year ahead of us and Muriel a year behind. Needy girls, but their daddy died young and I could see they were troubled and missin’ him.”

  “That’s very true, Edwin,” Ritaestelle said. “Especially because my aunt—their mother, Estelle—was ill. Part of my name came from her. Unfortunately she became quite neglectful due to her sickness and died of cancer when we were all in our twenties. But her funeral brought Edwin and me together. We were close for a time. What did happen to us, Edwin?”

  Oh boy. What happened to their relationship? Did Ritaestelle realize what she was saying? I felt the need to protect Karen and get this conversation back on track.

  “This crime was personal, not random,” I said. I’d known this and guessed Candace and Mike knew this as well. But Tom’s approach wasn’t about finding evidence he could hand to that prosecutor we’d met, or to a judge. Maybe that was why he quit the force—so he could do things his way.