Cat Me If You Can

by Miranda James

  Zac laughed. “That’s one smart cat. He really seems to understand what you say to him.” He sat down beside me and leaned forward, elbows on his legs.

  “Over time they get to understand what certain words mean,” I said. “Maybe twenty-five or thirty. They go more by inflection and cadence, however, according to research I’ve read.”

  Zac held out his right hand for Diesel to sniff. The cat sniffed delicately, then meowed. Zac touched his head, and Diesel allowed himself to be stroked.

  “I’ve never been around cats all that much,” Zac said. “My mom was allergic, but I’ve actually been thinking about getting one to keep me company at home.”

  “They’re excellent companions, although they aren’t like dogs,” I said. “Each one has its own personality, and a lot of them like their own space. It depends on the breed, too. Maine Coons are affectionate and loyal. I’d recommend a Maine Coon, if you want those qualities in a pet.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Zac said. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, about why I wanted to talk to you. These murders. First thing, I want you to know that I didn’t kill either Denis or that poor maid, Cora.”

  “All right,” I said. “Do you have any idea who did?”

  “My chief suspect is Ellie,” Zac said.

  “Why Ellie?” I decided to be as noncommittal as I could so that Zac might tell me more than he intended.

  “Because, well . . .” He paused and looked off into the distance. “Okay, here’s the thing.” He turned to face me. “I had a brief fling with Denis. Didn’t last long, didn’t mean anything to either of us.” He stopped.

  “You don’t seem surprised,” he continued. “Why is that?”

  “Word gets around,” I said.

  “God save me from small towns,” Zac said. “I should have figured something like that. Anyway, that’s what it was. Ellie came by Denis’s office after work one day and walked in on us.”

  “I don’t imagine she took it well,” I said.

  Zac laughed harshly. “Like hell she didn’t. She started screaming at Denis. I got my clothes on as fast as I could and got out of there. I wasn’t even sure until later that she knew who I was or even paid any attention to me.”

  “That was before you joined our mystery group,” I said.

  “Yes,” Zac said. “The moment I walked into the room at the library for that first meeting and spotted her, I almost turned around and walked right out. But I was really looking forward to the group and decided I wasn’t going to walk out because of her.” He paused. “At first, I didn’t think she recognized me. I mean, it all happened so fast, and she seemed so focused on Denis.”

  “At some point, she realized who you were,” I said when he fell silent.

  “I think she recognized me right away,” Zac said, “although she pretended not to. I kept wondering whether she would say something in front of the group, but then I realized she probably wouldn’t. It would be too embarrassing for her. Me, too, I guess. She cornered me after the second meeting and told me she knew who I was and what she thought of me. How disgusting I was, all that kind of crap.

  “I had no idea Denis was involved with her,” Zac said, sounding slightly indignant. “For all I knew, he was strictly gay. That’s when I found out the truth myself. I left him alone after that, told him to bug off when he texted me.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “A bar in Memphis,” Zac said. “He was obviously on the prowl, and I was in the mood. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he wasn’t, either. We met a few more times because it was easy, nothing more than that. I had other things going, if you get my meaning.” He cut a sideways glance at me.

  “Yes, I do,” I said.

  “I’ll be thirty in a couple months,” Zac said. “I always said I wouldn’t settle down until I turned thirty. After what’s happened here, I’m beginning to see that would have some advantages. But who knows?”

  “You’re telling me that you had no motive for murdering Denis Kilbride,” I said.

  “Yes, absolutely,” Zac replied. “He was a casual fling, nothing more. Nothing emotional invested in it. Everyone at the college knows I’m gay, so he couldn’t have blackmailed me by threatening to out me.”

  “What you’ve told me sounds reasonable,” I said. “I’m not the one who’s in charge of the investigation, though.”

  “I know that,” Zac said, a touch of impatience in his tone. “I’ve already told all this to Wesner.”

  A thought struck me. “Why did you react the way you did when Kilbride barged into our meeting and threatened you?”

  Zac looked pained. “Dude, do you like having your dirty laundry thrown in your face in public? I sure as hell don’t.” He grinned. “Especially not in front of Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. Miss An’gel scares me to death, and Miss Dickce’s almost as bad. They remind me too much of my grandma Ryan, and she’s a holy terror.”

  I laughed. “I see your point.”

  “I think you know I’m a big fan of Jessica Fletcher and Murder, She Wrote,” Zac said. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be an amateur detective, and here’s the perfect opportunity. A lot of amateurs are suspects in their first cases, aren’t they? Weren’t you?”

  Startled by the last question, I answered without thinking, “Yes.”

  Zac nodded. “Thought so. Anyway, what do you say? Want to work on this together?”

  I hadn’t suspected that he would ask me this. How was I going to answer him? Despite what he told me, I had to consider him a suspect because he easily could have lied about his relationship with Denis Kilbride. What if he had fallen in love with Kilbride and felt every bit as betrayed by him when he found out about Ellie?

  “I don’t usually work, as you call it, with a partner,” I said. “Other than the authorities in Athena, that is. I’m not some hard-boiled private eye who gets beat up by the police.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” Zac said with a hearty laugh. “You’re not the Phil Marlowe or Spenser type.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said. “Though I can’t remember whether either Marlowe or Spenser ever got beaten by the cops. But that’s beside the point.”

  “What is the point?” Zac said. “You still haven’t answered my question about working with me.”

  That quote from one of the Godfather movies flitted into my brain. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I had no clue yet which category Zac fell into, but I figured it was good advice.

  “Yes, I’ll work with you,” I said.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “That’s awesome,” Zac said to my acceptance of his offer to work with him. “What should we do first?”

  “First, keep in mind that Lieutenant Wesner and Sergeant Bloesch won’t be happy with either of us if they get wind of this,” I said.

  Zac nodded briskly. “Yeah, I know that. Come on, Charlie. I’m not a complete beginner here.”

  “No, you’re not.” During the group meetings thus far we had all discovered that Zac was well read in mystery fiction for his age. He told us that, during his summers off from school, he might read two or three books a day, sometimes even four. He zipped through a lot of authors’ complete works that way.

  “One thing I don’t know but that I think is important is everyone’s movements,” I said, thinking if I could get him onto this task it might keep him busy for a while and out of my hair.

  “A timetable, you mean,” Zac said, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, I can work on that, starting with myself. You can fill in for you and Helen Louise, and we can go from there. I have my laptop in my room. I think I’ll create a spreadsheet.” He jumped up from the bench, startling both me and Diesel. The cat meowed in protest, but Zac didn’t appear to notice.

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll make notes about our movements, and add in what I know of
the other members of the group outside of our meetings.”

  “Great,” Zac said, obviously eager to be off. “Anything else?”

  “No, go to it,” I said.

  Zac sprinted away from us and soon disappeared from sight. I envied his energy, but I might find myself worn out trying to keep up with him. “Come on, Diesel. Let’s go back to Helen Louise.” The cat chirped happily, and we headed back into the hotel.

  We found Helen Louise asleep, lying on her side, in the bedroom. I touched her gently on the shoulder, and Diesel, who had jumped on the bed before I could stop him, sniffed at her exposed ear. Helen Louise put a hand up to her ear and encountered feline. Her eyes opened, and she smiled up at me.

  “Good nap?” I asked.

  Helen Louise rolled on her back and yawned. “Yes, it was,” she said. “But I’m glad you woke me. I didn’t want to sleep too long.” She rubbed Diesel’s head as he pushed it against her hand. “Did you have a good time out in the garden, sweet boy?”

  Diesel purred loudly in response.

  “We certainly had an interesting time,” I said, perching on the bed beside her. “Zac sought me out to discuss an idea he had.”

  “What was it?” Helen Louise said.

  “He wants to work with me, as one amateur sleuth to another, to solve these murders,” I said.

  “What?” Helen Louise pushed herself up into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. “He actually came to you and said that?”

  “He did,” I replied. “I was pretty taken aback, but we did discuss his relationship—if you could call it that—with Denis Kilbride. According to him, it was nothing special, certainly not on his part.”

  “Scratching an itch, basically,” Helen Louise said sardonically.

  I grinned. “Basically. I have to say he came across as sincere. He’s young, not ready to settle down, and so on. He’s turning thirty soon, he said, and that’s the age he thought he would start settling down.”

  “If he truly had no motive to kill Denis Kilbride,” Helen Louise said, “then he would have had no reason to kill Cora Apfel, either. So, if he’s being completely honest, that leaves us with Ellie as the most likely suspect, since she’s the only other one who had a personal relationship with Denis.” She sounded disheartened by her own conclusion.

  “Yes,” I said. “I know it’s rough, because you know Ellie, though you’re not close. Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one.”

  “Why haven’t the police arrested her by now?” Helen Louise said. “I thought they’d have jumped on her at the get-go, but they don’t seem to have. Are they being overly cautious, or do they simply not have any evidence?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s puzzling me, too, but I’d guess that they don’t have evidence that will stand up in court. They have to have more than hunches to make an arrest.”

  “What was your answer to Zac?” Helen Louise said. Diesel nudged her hand because she had stopped paying him attention. She smiled and resumed scratching his head.

  “I told him I would work with him.” I held up a hand to forestall a protest. “I know it’s a crazy idea, but you know that quote about keeping your enemies closer than your friends. If Zac lied about the nature of his relationship with Denis Kilbride and felt as betrayed by him as Ellie did, then he might let something slip.”

  “I can only imagine what Sean would be saying to you right now,” Helen Louise said, her expression grim. “If Zac killed two people, he’s set it up so that he can keep an eye on you, and if you figure out he did it, he’ll kill you before you can do anything about it.”

  That idea had been resting uncomfortably in the back of my mind this whole time, and hearing Helen Louise say it aloud made my skin crawl.

  “I know,” I said weakly, “but what should I have done? Said no?”

  Helen Louise thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know. If you’d refused him, he might have thought that meant you suspected him. That could have been worse. This is crazy.”

  “I sent Zac off to make a timetable of everyone’s movements,” I said. “That ought to keep him occupied and out of the way for a while. And who knows? It might turn up some bit of information that could lead us to the answer.”

  “I suppose so.” Helen Louise laughed suddenly. “I feel like I woke up in a Golden Age mystery. We’re staying in an old house, cut off from civilization, and there’s a killer among us. How many books have you read just like this?”

  “Many,” I said. “I know how you feel. I wonder if any other members of the group fancy themselves as amateur sleuths? Wouldn’t that be wild?”

  “Please, don’t even think that,” Helen Louise said with a grimace.

  I had a sudden vision of Burdine Gregory, on her knees, magnifying glass in hand, examining ashes on the carpet, trying to determine exactly what kind of cigar the killer had smoked before he struck. I snorted with laughter, and I caught Helen Louise eyeing me with concern.

  I told her what I had been thinking, and she laughed. “That would be quite a sight,” she said.

  “She seems convinced that Zac is the killer.” I frowned. “Now that I think about it, she seemed pretty spiteful when she said it.”

  “How does she treat him in the group get-togethers?” Helen Louise asked. “Is she rude to him? Does she ignore him?”

  I thought about that for a moment. “I don’t remember her being out-and-out rude to him, but I also don’t remember her having any extended interactions with him. A few times she’s disagreed with points he’s made about the book or the author we were discussing, and she got testy when he challenged her to back up her points with examples.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t like people telling her she’s wrong about anything. It might be interesting to find out what she’s got against him,” Helen Louise said. “And whether she has told Lieutenant Wesner.”

  “She doesn’t like being told she’s wrong,” I said. “But then I don’t think any of us cares for that. It depends on how it’s done, and in Zac’s case, he’s not particularly tactful.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Helen Louise said. “That’s not enough to claim he’s a murderer, though. Surely there must be something more behind Burdine’s accusation than lack of tact.”

  “I wonder if we can get her to tell us what it is,” I said.

  “You can certainly try,” Helen Louise said, “but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She can be awfully stubborn when she wants to be.”

  “She can,” I said. “If I ask her, all she can do is tell me it’s none of my business.” I paused, thinking about it. “Elmore, however, might be easier to talk to. If I can get him alone, that is. He might let something slip.”

  “That could work,” Helen Louise said.

  I glanced at my watch. Nearly five o’clock. A little early for dinner, but it wouldn’t hurt to go downstairs and see whether anyone was hanging about. I was surprised Lieutenant Wesner hadn’t sent for either Helen Louise or me for more questioning this afternoon, but he was probably concentrating his efforts on other suspects. I wasn’t sure how seriously he considered me and Helen Louise as suspects, or Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce, or Benjy. Perhaps the testimonials to our sterling characters he received from the authorities in Athena had allayed his suspicions of us.

  I heard a knock at the door and went to answer it. Diesel came with me, always curious to find out who had knocked.

  I told him to stay back before I opened the door. He usually wouldn’t go out unless he knew the person on the other side. I swung the door open to find a woman around my age in a maid’s uniform, towels in hand. She had bleached blond hair, dark roots showing, and work-roughened hands. Her name tag identified her as Doris.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” she said, her voice husky. “Do y’all need any fresh towels?”

  I started to answer th
at I didn’t think we did, but an idea occurred to me. Instead, I said, “Please come in. I don’t want my cat to get out. I’ll go check.”

  Startled, Doris glanced down at Diesel, but then her face broke into a wide smile. “Hello there, beautiful. Boy or girl?”

  “Boy. His name is Diesel.” I shut the door behind her. “I’ll be right back.”

  Helen Louise was in the bathroom. I knocked on the door, and it opened a crack. “Do we need any fresh towels?” I asked.

  “Yes, we do. Is that the maid?” she said, opening the door wider.

  “Yes, I’m going to try to get her to talk to me about Cora. I’ll tell her you’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

  “Fine.” The door closed.

  Back in the sitting room I found Doris, now free of towels, bent over Diesel, rubbing and scratching him. I could see that the cat had no objections to this treatment. In fact, he was purring loudly. Doris was his kind of human.

  “My partner is using the bathroom at the moment,” I said. “I hope you won’t mind waiting a minute or so.”

  Doris straightened, much to Diesel’s disappointment. He warbled loudly, no doubt adjuring her to continue. She left off petting Diesel and picked up the towels. “I’ll come back in a bit then, sir, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “No, please don’t go,” I said. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute.” I reached into my pocket for my wallet, thinking I might offer her a tip, but she saw what I was doing.

  “Now, sir, that ain’t necessary,” she said. “I got a few minutes if you want to talk.”

  “Then, please, sit down.” I indicated a chair across from where I stood.

  Doris set the towels down on the coffee table and took her seat. She looked at me expectantly.

  “I guess the staff here is upset about what’s happened,” I said.

  Doris nodded vigorously. “Sure are. First time as I know of that we had a guest murdered in his bed. And then that Cora.” She sniffed. “Well, all I can say about her is that I’m only surprised she didn’t get herself murdered sooner.”