by Molly Dox
“That cat right there; it just spoke to you? It knows why we’re here?” Andrea shook her head, confused. “I thought you talked to them. It sounds like he’s the one doing the talking.”
“I don’t know how he read me that fast, or even how he knew to talk to me. And he says he’s not a stray, but he can’t go into his owner’s work because of health code standards, so he prowls around here until it’s time to go home.” Jocelyn couldn’t stop talking. The cat had a lot to say. “We better head inside.”
Andrea wrapped her hand around the door handle to pull, when she heard Jocelyn argue with the cat. “I did not think that…”
“Should I ask?” Andrea quizzed.
“No, just keep walking. He’s getting snippy with me.” Jocelyn hissed at the cat as if saying enough was enough.
That was just weird. Andrea hadn’t ever watched an interaction like that before. She knew of Jocelyn’s gift, or umm, talent, but she hadn’t seen it in action. The first time Jocelyn told her that she could speak to animals, she wasn’t sure what to say. It was different. Apparently the gift didn’t translate to people. She only talked to domesticated animals. Not chickens, not goats, not turkeys, but dogs and cats. Andrea wondered about horses, but didn’t bother asking. She opened the door and was greeted by loud music.
The women made their way to the bar and settled on two empty bar stools. They took in the scene and waited for the bartender to come over. This would be interesting. They’d never interrogated someone and interviewed them about a crime before. And this person wouldn’t have even been involved. It was a matter of casually asking about something that happened nights ago. Would they reveal any secrets, or look at the women like they had two heads and not a lot of brains going on.
The bartender made his way over. “What can I get you?”
Jocelyn smiled at the good looking man and smiled extra big. “Anything you’re offering and a Slow Gin Fizz.”
The bartender laughed. “I haven’t had an order for one of those in a long time.” He turned his attention toward Andrea and asked, “And for you?”
“The thing is…” she decided to wait. “I’ll take a diet soda please. Were you working this weekend?”
The bartender leaned in. “What?” The music was blaring loud enough to make some things easier to hear than others.
“Were you bartending this weekend? I wanted to ask you something,” she repeated.
“Oh, no, not me; she was.” He pointed to a woman carrying a tray to the bar. “We switch off schedules. Jenna was covering the bar over the weekend. I was working the floor.”
Andrea realized, she wasn’t sure if Monica was sitting at the bar drinking or in a booth. She might need to talk to both of them. She leaned in and spoke louder, to make sure he heard her. She had no idea the song was about to stop and a new one start. As she blurted out the words, ‘It’s about a dead woman,’ much of the crowd turned to look at her. She slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified everybody was staring. Thankfully, another song started and people went back to what they were doing.
“I don’t know anything about a dead woman,” the guy said, and went off to make their drinks.
“Way to go,” Jocelyn teased.
“I’m going to talk to blondie over there,” Andrea said pointing to Jenna. “You work the bartender over, and see if he knows more than he’s saying. Find out if he remembers seeing Monica here.”
“Will do,” she said with a mock salute to her friend.
Andrea slipped off of her chair and went beside the waitress that had filled in the slot of bartender over the weekend. “Excuse me,” she started.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, hon. Just let me know where you’re sitting, and I’ll come take your order,” she said, barely giving Andrea a glance.
“I need to talk to you,” Andrea started. “It’s not about food. A woman was killed, and I’m hoping you can help me with something.”
“I didn’t kill a woman, and I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, defensively. “And whatever Vinnie said, they’re all lies. I didn’t know the guy was married.”
Andrea closed her eyes. “I don’t know Vinnie, and I don’t care. Please, this has nothing to do with you. I’m hoping you might have seen my friend here. Can we talk?”
The woman eyed her up suspiciously. “Fine, but I don’t know anything about a dead woman.”
Andrea followed the waitress to a quieter area near the waitress station. “One of my friends and co-workers was here a couple days ago with her boyfriend. She has long black hair, real pretty girl, came in with her boyfriend. He shaves his head, is heavily tattooed, and speaks with an Irish accent.”
“Oh, sure, I know them. Monica and…” she tried to remember the guy’s name.
“Right, Nick. Anyway, it’s about Monica. When she was here, did you notice anything different going on?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah, I did. Weird, I didn’t think much of it once they left, but some lady seemed to be watching Monica more than usual. Some bohemian looking chick, bracelets up her arm… I only noticed because I commented on one of her bracelet’s to try to make her aware I was watching her. She wasn’t with anyone, and I hadn’t seen her before. Anyway, she left after Monica and Nick did. I haven’t seen her here since.”
“That’s exactly the kind of information I’m looking for,” Andrea said, thanking the woman. “There was a break in and well, someone died, and we’re trying to figure out who could have had access to the building other than the employees. Thank you so much, this is great. I’m sorry to have bothered you, but you may have given us a lead.”
“Great job, Scooby-Doo,” the woman winked. “Sorry that I was defensive earlier. I had a little run in of my own.”
“No worries,” she answered and followed the waitress back to the bar area.
Jocelyn was leaning into the bar, flirting with the bartender when Andrea returned.
“I think Cassie was here,” Andrea said.
Jocelyn snapped to attention. “Really? This is getting interesting.” She jotted her number on a napkin and told the bartender to call her sometime. The girls wrapped up and headed out.
The cat was waiting for her.
“Oh, thanks,” she said to the cat as they walked past.
“What did he say?” Andrea asked, wondering if she actually wanted to know.
Jocelyn grimaced. “He told me the bartender has a girlfriend and not to answer if he calls.”
“Wow, that cat is on the ball.”
“He’s a chatty cat, too.”
Chapter 7
After a solid night of sleep, Andrea called her boss. She wanted to know if there was any news and if he knew when he’d be re-opening the spa. She had bills to pay, and without a paycheck coming in, things would be tight. She hoped they opened sooner than later. He’d mentioned Tuesday when this first started, but she wasn’t sure if he was sticking to that day.
When Lonnie answered the phone, he was less than enthusiastic to hear from Andrea. “What is it?”
“Wow, and hello to you, too,” Andrea answered. “Do you know when the spa will be opening back up?”
Lonnie sighed dramatically. His voice was terse. “Until this mess is cleared up and solved, we won’t be open. I don’t need this over my head. It’s about to hit the papers soon, and once it does, there goes my business. I can’t have my name attached to this, my new spa is about to have its grand opening. I’ll be ruined.”
Andrea didn’t know what to say. “Okay, thanks.” They needed to solve this, and soon. Or she’d be looking for another job. Poor Mrs. Chadwick, what did she do to deserve this? It’s not like she was one of their favorite clients, she was short with the staff, a pain at times, and way too bossy, but did she deserve to die?
It seemed as though Mrs. Chadwick had more enemies than friends, even her own daughter… Cassie was more upset about being left out of the news than of hearing her mother had died. And now, they had her t
ied to the bar, seen near Monica, and probably somehow got a hold of her key. At least they knew how she got inside. They’d go over and question her again, now that they knew she’d lied about not having been to town. What else was she lying about?
Andrea made plans with Jocelyn to bike over to Cassie’s. Jocelyn was trying to stay active and needed the encouragement. She hadn’t done much the last couple of days with everything going on, and Andrea knew Jocelyn’s depression would kick back in if she didn’t exercise. While Jocelyn used exercise to deal with stress, Andrea was more of an ice cream spoon-to-mouth girl. Eating soothed her nerves. She wished carrots helped as much as chocolate-chip ice cream did, but everybody had their vices.
When Jocelyn texted she was on the way over, Andrea unlocked her front door and headed to the kitchen. She was about to make breakfast and knew Jocelyn liked her granola and yogurt parfaits, so she decided to make two.
Jocelyn bounded in all bouncy and upbeat. “Hey, I was thinking-”
“Uh oh, what now?” Andrea waited for her friend to finish.
“Oh hush, you, it’s not that bad. I was just thinking that after we bike over to see Cassie, we could check in on Carmen.”
“Oh, that actually is a good idea. I’m not sure exactly how to handle that end of things, but I’m thinking once we talk to Cassie, it might clear Carmen.”
“I hope so, Andrea. I really hate the idea that Carmen could have done something like that. If it was her, it makes me realize if she snapped that it could have been any one of us that was killed.” Jocelyn shoved her hands in her pockets. “Ooh, are you making parfaits! I love those.”
“Yep, here you go. I’m not perky yet. I need time to eat and shower, then we can go.”
“I’m anxious to talk to Cassie. I can’t wait to see her face when we tell her we know she was in town,” Jocelyn said. “Do you think she’ll just flat out confess, or spin a tale? I always wonder about that when I watch documentary detective shows. Like some people just confess because of something somebody said, while and others clam up. Like the detective will say, ‘we know what you did’ and next thing you know this hulking guy is crying like crazy and confessing his sins. Others play stupid, but you know, you can see it in their face.”
Andrea laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to give it up that easy, but I would like to hear how she tries to get out of this one.”
The girls ate breakfast, and Jocelyn sat and watched television while Andrea grabbed a shower. She called out to her, “You’re just going to get sweaty again. You should wait until after the ride.”
Andrea called back, “I’ll take one then, too.”
Once they were ready to go, the girls went to their outdoor storage lockers and got their bikes. Andrea’s was dusty from sitting unused for too long. She blew at the dust and cobwebs. She hoped her legs would keep up with her and didn’t wear down.
“This will be good for you,” Jocelyn encouraged.
Andrea groaned. That was the only response she was offering.
They headed out, riding single file on the side of the road, Jocelyn leading the way. Andrea pushed her thighs to keep moving. Oh, she’d feel this when she got off her bike later. Maybe it was time for her to take this exercise thing serious again. Flat sections of the road weren’t that bad, but when it came to hills she had to climb off and walk her bike up. When they finally arrived at the Chadwick’s estate, they parked their bikes and went to the large wooden door.
They didn’t expect Brad to be the one answering the door. Didn’t they have people who did that stuff for them? They used to. “Can I help you?” he asked, recognizing them from the country club. He was dressed in a collared golf shirt and looked as if he was about to go off and play a round.
“We’re here to see Cassie. Is she home?”
Brad told them to wait in the room to the right, a study, and went up to find her. The girls walked through the door of the study to be met with grand wooden bookshelves, pictures, and stacks of books filling the shelves.
Andrea whispered. “Do you think they read the books, or are they just for show?”
Jocelyn poked around. “I don’t know, but look at this.”
Andrea moved over to where Jocelyn stood. “Who is that?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” The picture showcased Brad standing next to a woman. She had a definite bohemian flair and wore bracelets up her arm, just like Cassie did.
When Brad returned, he told the girls that Cassie would be down shortly.
Andrea held up the picture they’d found. “Mr. Chadwick, can I ask who this is? She looks so familiar.”
“That’s my sister, Olive. She used to have this eccentric flair,” he said with a laugh. “Now, instead of being a groovy hippy as she used to call it, she’s much more business minded, but growing up will do that to you, no? She doesn’t look a thing like that anymore, thankfully, though Cassie has carried on the tradition. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”
“Get out, that’s Olive?” Andrea whispered to Jocelyn. “That’s why she looks familiar. It’s her face, but these days her hair is styled differently, she wears glasses, and even the color of her hair has changed.”
In the photo is was a shocking and bold red color, but the last time Andrea saw her at the spa, it was a docile golden-brown with highlights, longer and straight, not crazy and wild as in the photos. She had a hard time picturing Olive as she used to be.
Cassie slid into the room, pouty that she was being bothered. “What do you want?”
“This picture, I would have never guessed that your aunt used to look like that. She’s used to be a client,” Andrea said. “And why didn’t you tell us you were in town over the weekend?”
It was the ‘aha’ gotcha moment they were hoping for, only it fell flat.
“What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “You’re seriously confused. I haven’t been to town in ages. And yeah, I adore my Aunt Olive. She was the coolest person while I was growing up. She didn’t like my mom very much though, so I guess we had that in common too. She didn’t think she was good enough for my dad.”
“I noticed the bracelets. You wear them just like in the picture,” Jocelyn said.
“Yeah, she inspired me. She’s the one that had the biggest impact on me as a kid. My mother was too busy breaking glass ceilings to care that she had a kid. She wanted a name for herself, and apparently being a Chadwick wasn’t enough.” Cassie didn’t try to hide her lack of enthusiasm when it came to her mother.
Andrea turned back to the topic of the bar. “Somebody saw you in town. I have a witness.” She studied Cassie’s face as she spoke.
“Well, your witness is mistaken. I was at the commune. There were other people with me. It’s not like I was alone. Oh, wait a minute, you don’t think…”
Jocelyn shrugged.
“That’s cold. I didn’t kill my mother. Whatever nonsense you’re trying to pin on me, you can stop it right now. There’s no way I’m getting involved in this. I had nothing to do with it, and I have an alibi and witnesses. That’s just sick. You need to leave. How dare you try to entrap me into saying something that just isn’t true,” she seethed. “Get out of my house.”
The women knew they weren’t going to get anything else out of her. They turned and left before things got ugly. Cassie slammed the door behind them. They didn’t say anything until they were off the Chadwick property. Back on their bikes, they knew what was next. They’d need to talk with Olive Mackanack. Something fishy was going on, and pieces of the puzzle were starting to shape up. While they still hadn’t wiped Carmen off of their list, Olive had a few things showing up in her column. She wore clip-on earrings, she hated Jeanie, and she might have been the one at the bar. Wouldn’t have Monica recognized her? Maybe not, she wasn’t Monica’s client, and if she didn’t look like she usually did at the spa, totally changing her look…
Out of nowhere, a car came close enough to sideswiping them that the gir
ls were run off the road. They lost their balance and tumbled into the ravine.
“Idiot!” Jocelyn called out in anger.
Andrea’s heart raced, and her body was sore from falling. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little banged up, but I’ll be okay. What about you?”
“I’ll figure it out when I stand up. Yikes, my ankle hurts. Hopefully if I walk it out, it will get better. Not sure if it will be easier to ride or walk my bike.” She leaned onto the frame of her bike, now down in the ravine and slowly pushed it up the small slope.
“How did they not see us? Then entire road was open, they could have moved over.” Jocelyn was peeved.
“Maybe it was intentional,” Andrea said, hating that she said it out loud. “I mean, it’s not like they made an effort to avoid us.”
“Okay, that’s creepy.” Jocelyn wrapped her arms around herself. Finally, she bent over and picked up her bike. “Do you think they meant to hit us?”
“Or scare us,” Andrea said. “If they wanted to hit us, they could have. Who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stick around and see if they come back. Let’s get moving.” Thankfully, the rest of the trip home was without incident. Jocelyn hesitated before asking, “Can I stay with you tonight? I’m kind of freaked out.”
“Sure, of course you can. Do you think we should report what happened? Maybe our imaginations are just working overtime. It was an accident, almost a hit and run. They didn’t even stop to see if we were okay. I don’t know what I think anymore.” Andrea wasn’t sure what she’d report, a careless driver or someone coming after them for digging up details?
That evening, safely home, the girls went over what they knew so far. They knew they should go to the police. Things were bigger than the girls could handle. What started out as interesting puzzle to solve, turned into something more. They didn’t catch a license plate of the car, but they did see it was an older minivan that was a dark, sort of forest green color.