Gluten-Free Murder

by P. D. Workman

  Deciding that maybe he needed something comforting, Erin went to the sewing room and started looking through the fabric and craft supplies for inspiration. She cut a couple of yards of penguin-patterned fleece from a bolt and grabbed a couple of scraps of leopard-spotted faux fur. She put them into a wicker basket that was much too big for the kitten, but would be cozy when he was full-grown.

  She returned to the bathroom, still opening the door with great care in case the little cat was getting more bold with all of the coming and going. He was still hiding behind the commode. With the litterbox and the food dishes, the small room was already crowded. The basket was going to make it unnavigable if she had to get up in the middle of the night. But she couldn’t think of another solution.

  Hoping to reduce the likelihood of a nocturnal adventure—she certainly didn’t want to be chasing a kitten through the house in the middle of the night—Erin used the facility.

  “Sorry,” she murmured to the kitten before flushing. She was afraid he would go rocketing around the room when his hiding place was suddenly filled with the sounds of rushing water, maybe even climb her like he had when K9 put on an appearance, but he stayed put. Erin washed and dried her hands.

  She crouched down and reached around the toilet. Not to get the kitten out, just to stroke him for a moment. To try to connect with the little furball and reassure him. He didn’t slash at her, bite her, or back away, all of which she considered good signs.

  “There, see? Everything is okay. You’re safe here. No need to cry. Okay?”

  She settled the basket as close to his hiding place as possible to encourage him to investigate it, left the light on for him, and headed back to bed.

  All chance of sleep seemed to have fled. Her brain was in high gear. Her thoughts went again to the upcoming police interview. Surely Piper wouldn’t arrest her. If they’d had anything they considered proof of her guilt, he would have arrested her that evening, not helped her to rescue the kitten. After all, she couldn’t take care of a kitten while in jail.

  The crying started up again. Erin looked at her clock. She would give him fifteen minutes to settle down. The neighbors couldn’t report her for fifteen minutes of noise. If he continued after that, she would… check on him again and try to calm him down. It was worse than having a baby. She really didn’t have any idea what to do to calm down a lonely kitten.

  She lasted five minutes. Five minutes of torture. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she threw herself out of bed and stalked to the bathroom. She opened the door.

  “Stop crying!”

  The kitten froze in the middle of the floor, staring at her with big, liquid eyes, then all four feet were scrabbling for purchase on the slick tile floor before he managed to get moving and again dashed behind the commode. After making sure the door was shut securely behind her, Erin followed the kitten. She reached behind the toilet and got her hand around his belly. He scratched and bit, which hurt, but Erin wasn’t letting him go. She carried him to the basket and put him down, holding him there firmly.

  “This is where you go to sleep. You can’t be up crying all night. See how nice and comfy cozy it is? Feel the fur.” She stroked it with the other hand. “Just like your mama. I know it’s scary, but you can be warm and safe here. You’re okay. Just snuggle into this little nest and you can curl up and go to sleep.”

  She gradually released the pressure on the kitten’s body. Once he was free, he squirmed away from her, around the side of the basket, burrowing down under the fleece. Then he hid there, turning his body in a circle so he could look up out of his burrow at her.

  “That’s right,” Erin whispered. “Isn’t that so much more comfy than hiding behind the commode? Silly kitty. Now go to sleep.”

  She crept out of the bathroom, watching to make sure the little kitten didn’t make a break for the door. She tiptoed down the hall. Maybe if he didn’t hear her walk away, he’d think she was still outside the door and wouldn’t be so lonely. Sleep, kitten. Erin needed her sleep or it was going to be impossible to get up in the early hours to bake. She really did need to find an assistant. It wouldn’t pay much, but if she could get a student to work a few hours before and after school…

  She slid into bed as quiet as a mouse. But the kitten seemed to know exactly when she got herself situated. She closed her eyes and he immediately started howling again. Erin muttered a few choice words under her breath about kittens who keep people awake at night and went back down the hall.

  This time she didn’t open the door and go in. She just stood outside, making calming, soothing noises. The kitten quieted. Erin waited. Just as she was about to head back to her bedroom, the noise started again.

  “Shh, kitty. Go to sleep. Curl up in a little furball and go to sleep in your basket…”

  The noise stopped. Erin waited. She looked at her wrist, even though she wasn’t wearing a watch.

  She was starting to feel weepy.

  She was a murder suspect.

  She had to get up early in the morning. And that blasted little kitten wasn’t going to let her get a wink of sleep.

  She opened the door. The kitten was in the middle of the floor. He completed his skittering run behind the commode. Erin scooped him up and put him in the basket. He burrowed down under the blanket.

  Erin picked up the basket and took it out of the bathroom. She considered putting it in the garage, but that would be cruel. The concrete floor was cold and there were all kinds of tools and maybe pesticides or other poisons that could kill a curious kitten. She wouldn’t be able to catch him again and she was afraid she would still be able to hear him crying even all the way back in the house. She went instead back to her bedroom. She shut the door and put down the basket. Then she climbed into bed.

  It was a few minutes before she could hear the kitten moving around, climbing back out of the basket. He started to cry.

  “Shh, go to sleep.”

  He stopped. There was silence for a few more minutes. He started to cry again.

  “Shh, kitty. Enough crying. You’re not alone. Now go to sleep.”

  He quieted again. Erin listened for him. He was quiet, kitten soft paws on plush carpet. But she could still hear him every now and then as he sniffed and sneezed at various items around the room or pushed against things with his face or body. Listening to his explorations, Erin started to drift. She wasn’t thinking about her police interview because she was listening too closely to the tiny noises of the kitten. She was almost asleep when he climbed up the sheets onto the bed. He crept around the bed, exploring. Erin kept absolutely still, not wanting to scare him away or to have him start chasing her wiggling toes under the bedding. If she just stayed still, he would settle in and let her sleep.

  Eventually, she felt the kitten squeeze up against her back, kneading the bed with his little paws. He started to purr, a tiny, old-man grumble. His purrs and the warmth of his body lulled her to sleep.

  #

  When Erin’s alarm went off in the morning, she reached over to slap it off, then lay there in the bed trying to rouse herself enough to get up and go to work. As she lay there, her mind started to work, reminding her with a sick feeling of dread of her upcoming interview with Officer Piper after work. Maybe she would stay home sick. He couldn’t complain if she were too sick to make the appointment.

  But she couldn’t stay sick forever and, sooner or later, she would have to talk to him. It might as well be sooner. She had learned, over the years, that if she were in trouble, it was best to get it over with. Half the suffering was in avoiding punishment.

  Then she remembered the kitten. She didn’t move, trying to locate the critter before moving. He was so small, she didn’t want to crush him rolling over.

  “Kitty, kitty, kitty?” she called softly.

  The pillow she was lying on shifted. Erin moved her hand up and found the kitten, his body soft and warm, lying on her pillow curled around her head.

  “You silly cat!”

&nbs
p; Erin sat up. She turned on the lamp next to the bed and looked at him. He sat up and yawned, a wide pink-tongued yawn with his eyes closed and his ears quivering back.

  “You’re just the cutest thing.”

  He didn’t run away at the sound of her voice. He just sat there, looking at her. Erin reached a tentative hand out toward him, expecting him to rocket away. But he just sniffed. Not getting any closer, not backing away, just getting her scent.

  “Are you actually going to let me pat you?”

  She inched closer. He touched his little pink nose to her fingers and didn’t pull away. Erin stroked him gently. He started to purr, pushing his head into her hand. She rubbed his head and ears and ran her fingers along his back. He stretched out on the bed and turned over, showing his belly. Erin scratched his belly and he was suddenly all claws, grabbing her hand.

  “Ouch!” Erin jerked her hand back and this time he did jump away from her, scampering off the bed and hiding in the open closet. Erin sucked on one of her knuckles, bleeding from his needle-sharp kitten claws. “Ow, what did you do that for? I thought you wanted me to scratch your belly!”

  He peered at her from the depths of the closet.

  Erin caught sight of her clock and realized she’d better get moving. She was normally much more efficient about getting ready in the morning. Kittens slowed things down significantly.

  “You can hide there all you like,” she told the kitten. “As long as you find your litter box when you need it!” She headed off for the bathroom herself. Time to shower and get ready to go.

  #

  When she stepped out of the shower, the kitten was there, in the middle of the bathroom floor. He sat there staring up at her, unafraid. She was glad he hadn’t held her outburst against her. As she toweled off, he rubbed against her legs, getting his fur damp. He sat and tongue-washed while she quickly combed out her hair and put on a touch of makeup. The ladies in Bald Eagle Falls did not go out in public without makeup on. But she would probably need to reapply it after working over the stove for a couple of hours.

  “You’re going to need a name.”

  He stopped licking for a moment and looked at her. Then he went back to work. She wondered whether she was going to have to give him a real bath to get all the dust and dirt out of his fur. Or whether he had fleas or mites or some other parasite. She hadn’t even thought of that before letting him sleep on the bed with her. She’d been so tired she hadn’t thought any of it through.

  “Well, time to eat. You’re going to need some breakfast too, aren’t you?”

  She picked up his dishes and carried them with her to the kitchen. The cat followed close behind her.

  He sat in the middle of the floor and continued his grooming regimen. Any time she made an unexpected movement, whether across the kitchen to the fridge, or getting a mug out of the cupboard, or closing the door on the toaster oven to warm her bagel, he stopped what he was doing and looked at her. But he didn’t run away.

  Erin tended to the kitty, giving him a fresh bowl of water and putting kibble into the dish. As soon as she put the dishes on the floor, he sauntered over to have a look, as if he’d been a house pet his whole life. Erin smiled and watched him for a moment before grabbing her coffee and bagel and sitting down at the table for a quick repast before heading over to the bakery.

  Chapter Eight

  SHE WAS A LITTLE worried about leaving the kitten all alone in the house. She hoped that he wouldn’t yowl while she was gone. Since it was daytime, he should be more interested in sleeping and, hopefully, wouldn’t be looking for company. And she didn’t yet know whether he would use the litter box, but didn’t dare shut him in the bathroom. His cries would have the neighbors on the warpath, at the very least, if not the police called, thinking there was a baby left in the house alone. But the cat had eaten and found a patch of sunshine to lie down in. He didn’t appear to be worried about her leaving. Hopefully the house would be intact when she returned at the end of the day.

  Her mind was still on the kitten when she pulled into the parking lot behind the store. And on the baking she was going to need to get done before opening in a few hours. And, niggling at the back of her mind, the interview with Officer Terry Piper when she closed the shop for the day. She wondered what had really happened to Angela. How she had really ended up dead in Erin’s basement.

  She was not thinking about the ghost. That mystery had already been solved.

  She immediately got to work on the batters she had left in the fridge. The muffins could bake while she got the ingredients for the next treat assembled. But as she started the big mixer, which ground and grumbled like the bearings were going to pop out, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

  She turned her head to see what it was, even though she knew it was just a shadow or a trick of a light and there was nothing to see.

  But there was.

  The girl froze, her eyes wild.

  “Who are you? What are you doing in my store? Where did you come from?” The words tumbled out of Erin’s mouth without a thought and she moved toward the girl to prevent her from leaving. Who was this, appearing in the middle of her store with both of the doors locked?

  The girl was worn and rumpled. She had stringy blond hair that reached her shoulders. Erin put her at seventeen or eighteen. She looked frightened. Lost and homeless.

  “I—I’m sorry.” The girl attempted to navigate around Erin, heading for the door. Erin put out her arms, making herself big and preventing the girl from going around her.

  “Stop. You stay there and answer my questions, or I’ll call the police.”

  The girl stopped. Her jaw jutted and she put on a tough front. “The police in this hole? I’d be miles away before they showed up.” Her voice was a little hoarse, like she had a cold. But despite the words, she didn’t try to get by Erin again. Erin was sure that she could run if she really wanted to. She could shove Erin down and make a run for it. She was right, Erin probably wouldn’t be able to get Piper in there until the girl was long gone. It seemed like he was always right outside her door, though, so the girl might just as easily be wrong. And it didn’t look like she wanted to take the chance to find out. Better to answer questions and get out than to take a chance and not be able to escape.

  “I’m… I’m Vic. Vicky. Victoria. I just… I stayed here when you were gone, to stay safe at night. It used to be empty.” She looked around, giving a shrug. “Usually, you come in the front door. The bell rings. Why didn’t you come in the front door this time?”

  “I parked in the back. Decided to use the employee parking space. How long have you been staying here? Since before I got to town?”

  Vic nodded, watching Erin carefully for her reaction. “Yeah, sorry…”

  “You broke my mug, not the cat.”

  “The cat?” Vic shook her head. “I knocked it off in the dark getting a drink of water. I didn’t mean to. I’ve tried to keep everything tidy, but sometimes… you notice.”

  “Yes. Sometimes I do. You had Melissa convinced that the bakery was haunted by my Aunt Clementine’s ghost.”

  The girl smiled slightly at this. “I wish I was a ghost and could go through walls.”

  “But you can’t,” Erin said. “So, how did you get in here?”

  She hesitated, weighing her answer. “I might have… had a key.”

  “A key? How did you get a key to my shop? No one else has a key.”

  “My aunt was friends with yours, I guess. She had a spare key.”

  “And you made yourself at home, camping out in my store.”

  “Yes.”

  Erin pointed at a step-stool. “Sit down.”

  Vic looked like she would rather run, but after a delay of a few seconds, she obeyed and sat down. She was a tall girl, slim. She perched on the chair, looking at Erin and waiting for her to say what she was going to do about Vic’s breaking and entering. Or entering, anyway. Trespassing.

  “You’ve been staying he
re every night. Running out the back door when you hear me come in the front.”

  “Yes. You get here really early.”

  “A baker has to be up early.”

  Erin attended to her ingredients. First a stray cat and now a stray girl. The world was determined to make her open late. She wouldn’t have time to replace all the day-old baking. It would still be fresh enough; she’d just mark it down. People would be happy to get specialty foods at a discount. Maybe she would start a kids’ cookie club. Children could have a free cookie once a day? Once a week? How often would she need to clear out old stock? She hated to have to throw anything out. Maybe a seniors’ muffin club too.

  “Where are you from?” she asked Vic.

  “Mmm… north…” Vic temporized. She didn’t offer any more details. Didn’t want to be tracked down for some reason. Had she been in trouble? Were there warrants out for her arrest? She was homeless, a burglar, was it possible she was a murderer? Had she been in the bakery when Angela had died? Without meaning to, had she contaminated something in the kitchen? Batters sitting in the fridge? Flour containers sitting open? Or had she been in the basement when Angela had died? If she had her own key, she could have let herself in and hidden in the basement, thinking she was perfectly safe, since Erin was upstairs serving customers. Until Angela discovered her.

  “You’re not being very helpful.”

  “I’m sorry… I just don’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t… things weren’t good before I got here.”

  “Victoria what? What is your last name?”

  “Uh, Webster. Victoria Webster.”

  Erin went to her office and pulled out a notepad. She wrote down the name. “Is that your real name?”

  Vic didn’t offer a response.

  “Why did you come to Bald Eagle Falls?”

  “To see my aunt.”

  “Who is your aunt?”

  But Erin already knew before Vic could answer.

  “Angela Plaint.” Vic’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

  “Angela Plaint is your aunt?” Erin repeated, flabbergasted.