I changed the subject. “Cindy owning that land changes everything. Why didn’t you tell Detective Bruno?”
“I honestly didn’t think about it. I don’t think she’s serious about moving the shelter to that side of town anyway.”
“She sounded serious at the fundraiser.” I crouched down to pet one of the dogs. “And if that’s the case, she must have been pretty upset to hear George promise to fund the entire expansion. If that happened, if council voted for it, then she’d be out two opportunities to sell her land.” I stood back up. “She could make a lot of money selling that land, but she’d already lost the chance with the mixed-use development. Maybe she didn’t want to lose the shelter?”
“The development idea isn’t off the table.”
“It isn’t going anywhere either.”
I’d spent a good portion of the day working with the rescues. With a reward based system, I’d been successful at teaching eleven of them to sit, give me their paw, and stay. They would need consistent practice, which each of the volunteers would do, but their chance at adoption improved because of those simple tasks. With every adoption we offered an hour of free training, and only a few declined. I worried about those dogs but knew people liked to do things their own way, and as long as they gave the dogs a decent home with food, water, shelter, and love, I needed to be satisfied.
Two dogs went to their new homes that day. Beau, a sweet black lab we thought was about nine, met and went home with his new family first. We were thrilled to see him go, but sad for us because he was the biggest sweetie in the shelter. Beau had been with us for a few months, so he’d gone through our rigorous training of stay, get a treat, come, get a treat, sit, get a treat, and the rest of the standard commands followed by get a treat. We hadn’t collar trained him because he was calm and ready to please. All the treats though caused the already big guy to gain a little weight, so he’d spent the last few weeks walking shelter volunteers to get back in shape.
“I’m going to miss that big guy,” Mary said.
“Me too, but I miss them all.”
“You and me both.”
The shelter door opened, and Stacy Halstead walked in. “Oh, hello, Missy. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I could have said the same thing. “It’s where I spend most of my time.”
“Yes, right. I should have known that.” She shimmied out of her winter coat. “I’m here to adopt a cat. I’d adopt a dog, but I just don’t have the time to care for one. Cindy keeps me busy, and I have a feeling that’s going to get worse, not better.”
“Cats are great pets for busy professionals,” Mary said. She stretched out her arms. “Here, let me take that and I’ll put it in the back.” She flipped around and tapped on the glass window of the office. “Can you come take this?” she asked the front desk volunteer.
Stacy stood in front of the cat lounge window. “There are so many.”
I stood next to her. “I know. Cats are a bigger responsibility than people think. And with all the land development we’ve had, the barn cats have been displaced. Since most of them weren’t neutered or spayed, they’ve multiplied like rabbits. Most of the cats are feral, but they’ve come along nicely.”
“So you’re saying I’ll have to adopt a wild cat?”
I shrugged. “All animals were wild at some point, right?”
“But these were wild recently. There’s a difference.”
“Not really. Instinct is instinct, but aside from that, we get most of the cats when they’re kittens, so that really makes a difference.”
“What about the adults?”
“Some of them adjust, but some don’t. We always take them and at least neuter and spay them before releasing them. That way they don’t keep producing litters.”
“You put them back out?”
“Many of them don’t know life inside. They wouldn’t adjust well. Fixing them helps reduce the number of feral cats, and ultimately is better for the older ones.”
“That makes sense. It’s sad though, all those cats without homes.”
“I just try to remember they feel like their home is outside.”
She smiled. “You really do love animals, don’t you?”
“Love speaks many languages, and I’m lucky enough to understand some of them.”
We watched the cats some more. “You just missed Max Hoover. He’s our local cat whisperer.”
“Councilman Hoover? Really?”
I grinned. “Trust me, it surprised all of us, including him. Most of the time he sits and naps, and the cats just snuggle up next to him, but sometimes he’ll play with them, too.” I opened the door to the lounge. “If you ask me, I think he comes here to sleep. He just calls it volunteering.”
She glanced around the room, paying close attention to behind her. “The cats don’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? They love it. They sleep, too.”
“That’s fantastic.” She stared down at the cats near her legs. When two of them rubbed up against her, she backed away.
“You can pet them.”
She cringed as she shrugged. “Will they bite?”
“I don’t think so, but you can never be sure.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“It’s highly unlikely.” I smiled and picked up Tubby, whose name matched his big belly. “This is Tubby. He’s an owner surrender. He’s used to being around people.”
She patted the top of his head with two fingers. “Nice kitty.”
I shook my head slightly. “Are you sure you’re ready for a cat?”
She dropped her hand to her side. “I thought I was, but they’re a little intimidating.”
I set Tubby on the couch. “Come on, let’s go into the lobby.”
Stacy’s stature changed when we left the lounge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that kind of reaction.”
“It’s okay. Maybe it’s just not the right time.”
“I guess.” She removed her purse from her shoulder and clutched it against her stomach.
“Are you okay? You’re not really here for a cat, are you?”
She blushed. “Was it that obvious?”
“Just a bit.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been up front with you. I came to talk to you about something.”
She had my attention. “Okay.”
“It’s about the fundraiser, and what…what happened.”
I kept quiet hoping she’d continue.
“I saw—no, I heard an argument between George Watson and someone else shortly before I found him, and I’m not sure what to do.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes, that night.”
“What did they say?”
“That they’d look into it, but I don’t know if they have, and I can’t really ask too many questions.” She stared at the floor and then looked me straight in the eyes. “Cindy’s done a lot for me. I’ve learned a lot from her, and I don’t want her to think I suspect her of murder, but she was really upset that night.”
“Wait.” I shifted my head from side to side. “Was the argument with Cindy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she killed him?”
“No. Yes, I mean, I’m not sure, but I’m worried she might have. I’m trying to find out what the police know, but I can’t just outright ask them. I don’t want it getting back to Cindy that I had something to do with it if she’s arrested.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“The land for the shelter. She tried to convince George the expansion wasn’t worth the effort and to support building a new shelter all together.”
“And he didn’t want to?”
“George Watson wouldn’t lift a finger to help Cindy, not with anything. The two were like oil and water.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because everything Cindy wants to do, he shoots down. As long as he had the mayor under his thumb none of her ideas will
make it through council.”
“The mayor isn’t the only one that votes. She knows that.”
“Sure, but the most influential one is who matters most, and with him basically a pawn for George, she never had a chance.”
“Rumor has it she wants to run for mayor.”
“It’s not a rumor. She’s going to run. She’s working with a political consultant on a campaign strategy right now in fact.” She dipped her chin to her chest and looked up at me. “Please don’t make that public. She’d kill me if she found out I told someone.”
“I won’t.”
I think I understood. “You want me to talk to Lieutenant Johns, don’t you?”
“Would you mind? I just need to know if they think she’s a suspect. I mean, I could be working for a murderer.”
“I’d like to know exactly what you heard first.” When she hesitated, I explained why. “He’s not going to tell me anything if I just casually ask about the investigation. Maybe knowing something in more detail will help me get him to talk.” That might have been a bit of a fib. Just a bit.
“It wasn’t much, the conversation, I mean. George shut her down pretty fast. She said she thought he was making a mistake, that building a big modern building for the women would be much better than just adding more rooms. She wanted to take it to the next level, make it more like an apartment style facility where they would eventually charge women to stay or something.” She paused for a moment and bit her lip as she thought. “She thought of it as more of a long-term opportunity for the women than a temporary solution.”
“She wanted to charge rent? To abused women?”
“Well, only the ones that got jobs and could keep them. She wanted to help them gain independence, to take care of themselves, and what’s a better way to do that than being financially stable?”
“I’m not sure council would approve something like that.”
“Exactly, and George felt the same. He didn’t want the women to stay in town. He wanted them to move on and move out. At least that’s what he alluded to. Cindy thinks giving them a long-term home will help them, and it’ll help the community because they’ll get jobs and pay taxes. You know, that kind of thing.”
If I understood her correctly, Cindy saw a new shelter as a money maker, in part at least. That sat in the pit of my stomach like a sausage roll, and those things never agreed with me. “You said George shut her down quickly? What did he say?”
“He said he wouldn’t help her make money off women in need, and that the goal of the shelter was to help them get on with their lives, not stay associated with a place that might just create more codependency issues for them.”
He had a point.
“And that was that?”
She blinked. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s when Cindy told him she’d see him dead before he got in the way of another project of hers.”
“Oh.”
She nodded.
“Does Cindy know that you heard her?”
She shook her head.
“Stacy, with all due respect, everyone knows you’re at Cindy’s heels all the time, so obviously she knows it, too.”
“She told me she wanted to talk to him privately. She didn’t want me with her.”
“But you went anyway?”
She cringed. “I was curious, so I might have stood nearby and listened.”
“Were you away from her any other time? Could she have had time to kill George?”
“It’s possible. She disappeared after they argued. I figured she went to the bathroom, because she headed that direction, and then I saw her again, and I left to go to the bathroom, and well, you know the rest.”
“Did you see where George went after their argument?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t want her to see me listening, so I hid around the corner.”
“I’ll talk to Justin, see what I can find out.”
Her face relaxed. “Oh, thank you so much, and…and you’ll get back to me?”
“Of course.”
She smiled and glanced back into the cat lounge. “Maybe I’ll try again in a few weeks.”
“Sure, that would be great,” I lied. Stacy wasn’t a cat person. That much I knew.
I drove home, fed the dogs, and called Justin as I tossed some vegetables into our wok for dinner. His phone went straight to voicemail, so I asked him to call me when he could. As I stirred the okra, cauliflower, carrots and broccoli, I thought about my conversation with Stacy. Her concern seemed genuine, but I didn’t know Stacy that well, so it could have been an act.
I microwaved a bag of steamed rice. Sam always considered that cheating, but rice and I had a temperamental relationship. It demanded a very disciplined, talented chef—which I was not—to ensure it cooked right and didn’t end up sticking to the bottom of the pan. I never got it right, so Sam always made the rice, and I cooked the veggies.
I added butter to the rice and scooped some of the veggies on top. I flipped on the news and sat at the bar. I’d barely had my first bite when Hayden barged in the front door.
“Mom?”
“In the kitchen.”
She pounded her boots on the rug and took them off. “Oh, that smells good.”
“There’s plenty, grab a plate and eat.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She fixed herself a plateful of food.
“So.”
“So?”
“You have plans with Justin tonight? Is that why you came by?”
“Can’t I just come by to check on my mother?”
“You really need to stop being so overprotective.”
She smiled as she stuffed a fork full of rice into her mouth. “Never gonna happen woman, so you might as well get used to it.”
I shook my head.
“And yes, I am seeing Justin tonight. He’s on his way here now.”
“Oh, good. I wanted to ask him about the investigation.”
She put her fork on her plate. “You’re not getting involved in this murder case, are you?”
I did my best to act surprised. “Of course not. I’m just curious, that’s all.” Good. Justin obviously hadn’t told her anything about my involvement. I’d have to thank him for that, but that wouldn’t make discussing it with him easy. Not with Hayden there.
“Good because I’ve got enough on my plate right now to worry about without you putting yourself in danger.”
“Are you going to therapy?”
“What? No. Why would you ask me that?”
“Because honey, this constant concern for me, it’s not healthy. You need to let it go.”
“Mom, every kid worries about their parents when they get older. It’s totally natural, so you might as well get used to it.”
“Hayden, I’m not old. I’m not even fifty-five, which, by the way, isn’t old either. Old is ninety, so back off with the hyper-protectivity already.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Ouch.”
I placed my hand on her leg and squeezed. “I’m not trying to be harsh, but I am serious. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, not for a while anyway.”
She sighed. “I know that. I just worry sometimes.”
“And I appreciate it, but knock it off.”
She smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
My electronic doorbell dinged on my phone. Allie charged toward the door. As Hayden got up to answer it, she said, “Wow. She didn’t even flinch when I came in.”
“She knows your sounds. You don’t worry her, or else you’re just not that interesting.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Justin walked into the kitchen with a big grin plastered across his face.
Hayden kissed him on the cheek. “What’s got you all excited?”
He rubbed his hands together and peeked into the pot on the stove. “The smell of food. I’m starving and that smells good. Got any more?”
Hayden winked at him, but I pretended not to notice.
“I do have some good news.” He set his bowl on the bar next to ours and took a seat. “It looks like we’ve got our killer.”
My eyes widened. “Cindy Truelson?”
He raised his eyebrow. “What? No. We cleared her.”
I’d poured myself a cup of coffee and had just finished a sip of it when he said that. I slammed the cup down, and coffee splashed everywhere. “That’s impossible!” I grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped up the mess.
Hayden flinched. “Woah, Mom. That’s a little harsh.”
I unintentionally ignored her and kept my eyes on Justin. “But Cindy owns the property. She’s been trying to make money on it through contracts and leases for a while now. I’ve checked into it since we talked before. And I just had a conversation with someone who said she heard Cindy threaten George at the fundraiser. She wanted me to talk to you about it. How can you arrest someone with all of that?” I drummed my fingers on the counter waiting impatiently for him to respond.
Hayden leaned back on the barstool and crossed her arms. “Mom, how would you know all that?”
“People tell me things, Hayden. Don’t you worry about it.” I waved my hand in the air like it was no big deal. “Who, Justin? Who did you arrest?”
“Bruno made the arrest, actually.” He slurped a spoonful of veggies and rice, and when he saw Hayden and I glaring at him, he set down his fork. “Fine. Jonathan Beemer.”
“Jonathan Beemer? Are you serious? His name hasn’t even come up once. How is he even a suspect?”
Jonathan Beemer owned a used car lot on the south side of town. It wasn’t one of those small town, corner lots with fifteen-year-old cars, but a fancier lot with newer luxury vehicles. He catered to the wealthy parents who wanted nice cars for their kids, but not brand-new ones.
Hounds, Harvest, and Homicide Page 9