Shot in Cherry Hills

by Paige Sleuth

  Kat looked across the yard. Stacey was standing near the edge of Eric’s property. A dark-haired man had his arm around her as she leaned against his shoulder. He surveyed the police activity while he rubbed Stacey’s back with one hand.

  “Is that her husband?” Kat asked, nodding toward the man.

  “What?” Andrew’s eyes flitted across the yard. “You’re talking about Vern Whitfield?”

  “Yeah.” Kat turned to Andrew. “What did the Whitfields have to say about the shooting? Did they see anything?”

  Andrew pursed his lips. “You know I can’t answer that.”

  “She looks really upset,” Kat said, watching as Stacey pressed her face into the crook of Vern’s arm.

  Andrew poised his pen over his notepad, a clear sign he was taking back control of this conversation. “So, how did you end up with the cat?”

  Kat felt an ache in her chest. Although she knew Andrew had a job to do, part of her wished he could break for a moment to offer her the same type of comfort Vern was offering Stacey.

  “Champ chased Tux toward the woods,” she told Andrew. “I guess Tux heard the gunshot and it spooked him. Whoever killed Eric must have left the back door open.”

  Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Which you took as an invitation to let yourself inside.”

  Kat straightened. If any of the other authorities on site had been the one to question her motive for entering the house she would have admitted she hadn’t been thinking properly. But this was Andrew. Whenever he challenged her she automatically went on the defensive. She figured her reaction stemmed from them growing up in foster care together and how eager they’d always been to one-up each other as kids.

  Apparently even fifteen years of adulthood and a blossoming romance couldn’t change those old, ingrained reactions.

  Andrew stared at her for a moment longer before turning his attention to his notepad. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about the events of this morning?”

  Kat blew out a breath. “No.”

  “Okay then.” He slipped his pen and notepad in his breast pocket. “You’re free to go. I know where to find you if I have follow-up questions.”

  “All right.”

  She turned around to head to Noreen’s, but Andrew stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “What’s on your jeans?” he asked.

  Kat peered at her legs. Something pink was stuck to her right knee. “It looks like a feather.”

  Andrew crouched down. “I don’t know of any birds with that color plumage around here.”

  “Me neither.”

  “How long has it been there?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t notice it before now.”

  “It’s barely clinging to the fabric. I’m guessing you picked it up recently.” He looked up at her. “Did you see anybody wearing something with feathers today? A boa or a hat perhaps?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “You don’t think I’d remember seeing somebody dressed up in pink feathers?”

  Andrew stood up and waved over one of the other officials. “I’m going to treat it as potential evidence.”

  Someone who Kat guessed was a crime scene technician jogged up to them. “What’s up?”

  Andrew pointed to Kat’s knee. “I need you to bag that feather.”

  “All righty.”

  Kat stuck her leg out as the man bent over. He pinched one corner of the feather between gloved fingers, then transferred it to a plastic bag as delicately as if it were an actual bird.

  “Came right off,” he announced, sealing the bag with a flourish.

  Andrew glanced at Kat. “You can go now.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he stalked off before she could get any words out.

  She watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he would turn around. Given that they had a date later, she half expected him to toss a few words over his shoulder about seeing her tonight. Maybe he’d even tack on a flirty comment or two, something that would buoy her spirits.

  But he disappeared inside the house without a backward glance. She went to join Noreen and Imogene, her heart feeling a little heavier than it had two seconds ago.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Noreen’s living room had taken on a somber atmosphere. Noreen herself looked as if she might fall apart at any minute. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her nose was a mottled crimson, and her cheeks were wet from tears.

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said over and over again to no one in particular.

  Imogene and Kat had agreed to stay with her for a while. Although they hadn’t discussed it, Kat knew Imogene was worried about her friend. Somehow, their wellness check on Champ was turning into a wellness check on his foster mother.

  Even Champ seemed worried about Noreen. He sat next to her chair with his chin on the armrest. Whenever she sniffled, he would lift his head and lick her elbow as if to remind her she wasn’t alone.

  Tux, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be interested in anyone’s misery but his own. He had taken refuge on Kat’s shoulders as soon as she’d sat down on the couch, and now seemed to think that gave him license to meow his complaints directly into her ear. If she so much as dared to flinch, he punished her by burrowing his claws in deeper and whapping her mouth with his tail.

  Tux’s meows were almost always followed by a bark from Champ. Kat didn’t know whether the animals were commiserating with each other or informing everyone that this situation was not what they had voted on, but she couldn’t blame them for being upset. This situation wasn’t what any of the humans had voted on either.

  The doorbell rang, causing them all to sit up a little straighter. Even Tux perked up, his neck craning high enough for his whiskers to tickle Kat’s earlobe. Imogene and Kat glanced at Noreen, then at each other when Noreen didn’t move.

  Imogene shrugged and stood up. “I’ll get it,” she said.

  An elderly man who had to be at least seventy stepped inside when Imogene swung the door open. With his small stature, wild wisps of gray hair, thick eyebrows, and gnarled skin, Kat couldn’t help but think he looked like a troll doll.

  “Hello,” Imogene said.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Who’re you?”

  “Imogene Little.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m a friend of Noreen’s.”

  The man stared at her palm, making no move to shake it. “Where is she?”

  “In here, George,” Noreen called out, dabbing at her tear-streaked face with a tissue.

  George brushed past Imogene without a second glance. Imogene didn’t seem fazed by his behavior. She simply shut the door and reclaimed her seat next to Kat on the couch.

  George stopped in the middle of the living room, his thick hands on his hips. “What in tarnation is going on next door?”

  Noreen blew her nose. “Somebody killed Eric Halstead. He was shot right in his own home. Can you imagine?”

  George didn’t look surprised. Kat wasn’t sure if his lack of a reaction stemmed from his age and having seen it all or if he was already aware of Eric’s fate.

  Noreen motioned toward a wing-back chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Why don’t you sit down.”

  George obeyed. Champ dashed over to him, set one paw on his knee, and barked.

  George flattened himself against the side of the chair. “What’s his problem?”

  “Nothing.” Noreen wadded up her tissue and tossed it on the floor before plucking a fresh one out of the box beside her. “He’s just saying hi.”

  “Well, I don’t like his tone.”

  “Pet him,” Noreen suggested.

  Keeping his elbows close to his body, George reached just far enough to touch Champ’s paw with the tips of his fingers. Champ responded by resting his head on George’s thigh and thumping his tail against the floor.

  George relaxed and extended his fingers a little more. “The police got any idea
whodunit?”

  Noreen shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, they oughta get crackin’. Last thing we need is a shooter runnin’ through our neighborhood. I don’t wanna have to be lookin’ over my shoulder every time I go outdoors.”

  “I’m sure they’re working on it,” Noreen said, although her voice lacked much conviction.

  George scratched Champ between the ears. “You know who I bet did it?”

  Kat held her breath, eager to hear what he had to say. But Noreen didn’t ask, and George clearly wasn’t going to say anything more until he received the go-ahead.

  She decided to bite. “Who?”

  George turned toward her, his lip curling up. “Who’re you?”

  “Kat Harper.”

  “Kat’s dating the detective in charge,” Noreen added.

  “Ah,” George said with a knowing nod. “You’re here to fish out clues.”

  Kat flushed. “Not really.” She didn’t add that if Andrew knew she was sitting around speculating over his case he wouldn’t be amused.

  George smacked his hands against the sides of the chair, causing Kat to jump. “Well, Kat, if you’re lookin’ for the killer, write this name on your list: Vern Whitfield.”

  Noreen rolled her eyes. “Vern didn’t kill Eric.”

  George squared his shoulders. “How do you know? He’s always runnin’ those power tools of his, creatin’ enough of a racket to drive anybody in a hundred-mile radius batty. I’ll tell you, I know for a fact Eric’s gone over to complain about the noise violations more than once.”

  “Vern wouldn’t have shot him over that. Why, his own wife complains about how much noise he makes.”

  “Well, maybe the wife did it then,” George said, shifting gears with seemingly no effort. “Could be they started up a little somethin’ somethin’ on the side and things turned sour.”

  Noreen made a face. Miraculously, talking about suspects seemed to have put her in better spirits. “Stacey wasn’t sleeping with Eric.”

  George snapped his fingers. “Then it coulda been that Anna woman who pulled the trigger.”

  “Anna?” Noreen frowned. “You mean the Whitfields’ housekeeper?”

  “Yep.”

  “What would her motive be?”

  George shrugged. “That’s for the cops to figure out. Besides, everybody knows how you women can get worked up over the smallest things.”

  Noreen dismissed him with a wave. “You’re crazy. And Anna’s a sweetheart. She’s putting herself through school all on her own, you know.”

  “Don’t let that sugary exterior fool ya.” George started petting Champ again, this time with more vigor. “I’ve known women like her, and it’s always the sweet ones who’ll tear you apart the first chance they get.”

  Noreen folded her arms across her chest, a muscle in her cheek twitching. “George, I hope you’re not planning to relay any of your theories to the police. You could end up sending an innocent person to jail.”

  George held his palms up. “Hey, I just call ’em like I see ’em.”

  Noreen’s eyes hardened. “Yeah, well, unless you have real evidence against somebody, keep whatever it is you think you’re seeing to yourself.”

  George cradled Champ’s face in his hands and looked the dog in the eyes. “You get what I’m sayin’, dontcha boy?”

  Champ barked.

  Noreen bent closer to them. “I’m serious, George. Remember what happened the last time you wrongfully accused somebody of something?”

  “I wasn’t wrong.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  He scowled. “Shows what you know.” He turned toward Imogene. “Walter Lowry down the street was stealin’ his neighbors’ newspapers. I caught him red-handed.”

  “He wasn’t stealing anything,” Noreen said. “Those newspapers were already in the recycle bin. He just took them out so he had something to line his birdcages with.”

  “Believe what you want,” George said. “And anyway, the fact of the matter is somebody had to have killed Eric. Ain’t no way to explain away that one.”

  They all fell silent, the truth of George’s words sinking in and making the air in the room feel twenty pounds heavier.

  The quiet was shattered when Tux meowed.

  George stiffened. “What was that?”

  “Tuxedo, Eric’s cat.” Noreen aimed her index finger at Tux.

  George squinted in Kat’s direction. “That’s a cat? I thought it was a scarf.”

  Tux meowed again, as if he were insulted over being mistaken for an article of clothing.

  Champ barked in solidarity.

  George yanked his hands back, his bushy eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Did you see that? He tried to bite my fingers off.”

  “He’s talking to Tux,” Noreen said.

  George looked at her as if she’d sprouted two heads.

  “What?” Noreen lifted one shoulder. “The animals have a bond. I keep telling you they’re more sensitive than we are.”

  “Louder too,” George grumbled.

  “They’re just upset. I can’t imagine it’s sitting well with either of them knowing they’re homeless.”

  “Homeless?” George ran his hand down Champ’s back, his eyes losing some of their light.

  Noreen sat up. “You should adopt him.”

  George frowned. “I dunno about that. I don’t get around too well anymore now with my arthritis and all.”

  “But you have that big, fenced-in yard. You could let him run around there most days, and hire a dog walker to take him to the park a couple times a week.”

  George didn’t say anything, but from the way he was gazing at Champ he seemed to be thinking over Noreen’s words.

  Either that or he was trying hard to ignore her.

  Noreen turned red-rimmed eyes toward Imogene. “What’s going to happen to Tux now that Eric’s gone? I’d foster him myself, but my daughter’s over here all the time, and with her allergies—” She broke off with a sob.

  Imogene crossed her legs. “Don’t worry about Tux. If Eric’s family doesn’t want him, 4F will take care of him until he finds a new home.”

  “Eric doesn’t have family,” Noreen said, snatching another tissue from the box. “He’s not married. He didn’t even have a girlfriend. And his mother died just over a year ago. Cancer.”

  “Gretchen Halstead,” George piped up. “I remember her. Real foxy lady.”

  Noreen shot daggers at him with her eyes.

  George held his palms up. “What? She can’t be foxy now that she’s dead?” He looked at Champ. “You know what I’m talkin’ about, dontcha boy?”

  Champ barked.

  “Didn’t Eric set up some scholarship in her honor?” George went on. “Something for cancer survivors?”

  “The Gretchen Fund,” Noreen confirmed. “She had been working on it when she died, and Eric took over.” She looked at Tux still draped around Kat’s neck, and her face fell. “The poor thing,” she said, but Kat didn’t know whether she was referring to Eric, his mother, or Tux.

  Kat thought about her own two cats, Matty and Tom. Matty had been orphaned when she came to live with her, and Tom had been under the care of Furry Friends Foster Families before she’d adopted him permanently. Now, she didn’t know what she would do without them.

  She suddenly had the urge to race home and hug them both.

  She checked the clock, surprised to see how much time had passed. What was supposed to be a simple, half-hour errand had usurped the whole morning.

  She looked at Imogene. “I’m going to have to get going soon. I have to be at work in an hour.”

  Imogene rose from the couch, her eyes on Noreen. “I can come back after I drop Kat off, if you’d like.”

  Noreen blinked up at her. “Would you? I just hate the thought of being alone at a time like this.”

  “Hey.” George sat up straighter. “I’m here.”

  Nobody paid him any attention. K
at was busy trying to unwrap Tux from her shoulders, but he was holding firm.

  “Maybe I should just foster him myself,” she heard herself saying before she even knew she’d had the thought.

  Imogene clapped her hands together. “That’s a marvelous idea. I’ll get a carrier then help you pry him off.”

  As Imogene strode toward the front door, Kat wondered how many times Eric Halstead had found himself trapped by a clingy cat. Ignoring her stiff neck and the claw pricks dotting her shoulders, she had to admit there was something comforting about having another animal trust her so completely.

  She thought of Eric never experiencing this small pleasure ever again and prayed Andrew found his killer soon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After Imogene dropped her off, Kat spent half an hour getting Tux situated in her bedroom. The task would have taken her five minutes if not for her cats’ insistence on meeting the unfamiliar feline. Every time she managed to herd one back into the hallway the other would dash around her for another peek at their temporary houseguest.

  Trying to corral them had given her a much better understanding of the term ‘herding cats.’

  When she left for her waitressing shift, both Tom and Matty had still been sitting outside the bedroom door, trying to peer through the crack at the bottom. Every once in a while Tux would meow, and Matty and Tom would respond by twitching their tails and sticking their paws under the door.

  Fortunately, the lunch rush kept Kat too busy to worry over the cats. By the time the restaurant cleared out, she only had a couple hours left in her shift.

  She had just started refilling the napkin holders when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She set the napkin sleeve down and fished her phone out. Imogene’s name flashed on the caller ID.

  “Hi, Imogene.”

  “Kat, something fantastic has just happened.”

  Kat wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear to free her hands as she talked. “What’s that?”

  “The Whitfields offered to adopt Tux.”

  “They did?”

  “Stacey came over to Noreen’s after you left. She said she couldn’t erase the image of how scared Tux looked sitting on your shoulders.”

  Kat’s stomach tightened. “Poor thing. I think he saw what happened.”