When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  “If she’s not eating them,” the vet said, “she’s a smart cookie. She must know they aren’t safe. Hopefully she’s getting enough food she’s only hunting.”

  My anger finally surfaced. “I thought this kind of poison was banned in Wallace.” Didn’t a little girl die last year? I couldn’t remember the details.

  Shauna nodded, glancing at Helen who stared into nothing, rocking herself a little. I really needed to check on the woman because if she’d settled into shock she would need to have someone sit with her.

  “Council passed a law eight months ago,” the vet said. “Some local farmers are still using it. Our warm winter last year meant a boom in rodent population. It could be Helen’s having an outbreak and decided to take matters into her own hands.”

  I’d be having a chat with the woman about that, make no mistake. But first, I had a sheriff to talk to.

  Chapter Nine

  With the evidence preserved as best as I was able, I made one more stop before attempting to call Cherise. Helen instantly gave me access to Natasha’s room, the pill bottles in her bathroom revealing she was taking something called warfarin. The vet took the bottle from me, nodded.

  “Blood thinner,” she said. So Shauna had been right. The poison acted fast thanks to the woman’s pre-existing heart condition.

  Next, I sent the vet back to the others with my thanks while Helen led me to the radio, tucked into her small office in the back of the building. The small radio with its plastic hand crank fired up easily enough, though I wasn’t sure how effective it would be in reaching the mainland, especially under the circumstances. But, within moments of me attempting contact, a nervous, “This is Bright Point Island, come in?” I heard a squawk of response.

  “This is Sheriff Cherise King from the Wallace Sheriff’s Department,” my friend said, a wash of relief at the sound of her voice making me sag. “Is that you Persephone? Over.”

  “It is,” I said. “Power’s out on the island, generator non-functional and.” I paused, not sure what to say. CB radios weren’t exactly protected from outside listening, after all. Anyone on this channel could hear what I had to say.

  “You have to say over when you’re done, Seph,” Cherise said. “Over.”

  “Sorry, I have a delicate situation and trying to be cautious. I need assistance as soon as possible. Over.” She wasn’t going to let me leave it at that, though, was she? And if Cherise decided it was fine to discuss over an open channel…

  “Understood,” she said. “We’ll do our best, but the storm snuck up on all of us. Is there need of ambulatory or medical service? Over.”

  “Not anymore,” I muttered before keying the handset. “Just get here as fast as you can,” I said. “Over.”

  Cherise’s intuition had to be tingling. “You okay, Seph? Over.”

  “I will be when you get here,” I said. “Over.”

  “I’ll be in touch ASAP,” she said. “Be safe.” Paused. “Over.”

  “Bright Point Island out,” I said, setting aside the handset with a sigh. Looked up at Helen. “We need to have a conversation about the rat poison you have hidden somewhere on the premises and don’t try to deny it.”

  Helen burst into tears, sitting next to me in the spare office chair. “I’m so sorry,” she wailed. “There were so many mice and the exterminators couldn’t come for a week and you were all booked in. I had to do something.” She calmed a little, face wracked with anguish. “My brother, Jake, has a farm on the mainland. He showed me how to use the stuff. I’m really careful, I swear! I keep it in the shed, away from the main building. No one should even have known it was there.”

  The shed. I’d seen any number of participants out there earlier. Wait, yesterday morning, I guess, since we were well into the wee hours of Sunday by now.

  “Please, I had nothing to do with that woman’s death, I swear it.” Helen now wrung her hands in her lap, distress making her knees bounce as her lower lip trembled. “I just needed to protect my business.”

  While I could understand the sentiment, the practice not so much. “Do you keep the shed locked, Helen?”

  Her mute expression told me the answer before she shook her head, still crying. Which meant anyone could have wandered in there and taken some of the poison. The killer must have realized the dead mice on the property meant someone was killing them. Or had brought their own poison with them and Helen’s rodent problem was just a coincidence. I had to admit, however, Daphne’s comment about Natasha eating late-night cupcakes just felt too coincidental to be ignored. Either the pregnant woman had killed her or she’d given the murderer the perfect suggestion to follow through with a plan perhaps they hadn’t even considered until she handed them the means and opportunity.

  I just had to figure out motive. Though, since it seemed everyone here couldn’t care less the woman was dead, uncovering her killer might prove impossible.

  Wait, what was I doing? I wasn’t Cherise or my ex-husband. No sheriff or FBI special agent. I was a wholistic therapist for goodness sakes. It was not my job to figure out who killed Natasha Lange, just to preserve what evidence I could and keep everyone happy until help could arrive.

  Unless. If this was just the opening salvo of some insane serial killer? Could I sit by and wait to see if someone else was going to die? Maybe the murderer took out Natasha first on purpose, knowing no one would cry over her loss?

  No. I had to get a grip. The storm, the poison, the means of her death… all amounted to the sort of synchronistic opportunism that a vengeful person without a real plan might impulsively act on. The likelihood anyone else was at risk plummeted to about zero.

  Why then was I still intent on finding out who did it?

  Just nosy, I guess.

  When I finally headed back to the main room, Helen in tow, it was to a fight just breaking out, shouting rising in volume as I hurried to the door, finding Daphne holding a tablet up, pointing at Fern, everyone yelling over everyone else while Lou Ellen tried to calm them down by adding her own voice to the mix.

  I’d learned early in life how to whistle through my fingers, one of those silly skills that came up as useful on occasion, case in point. The shrill sound had them all falling silent in a flash, everyone turning toward me, Daphne speaking up first before my friend could tell me what was going on.

  “No wonder she accused me,” the pregnant woman said. “She’s trying to hide her own involvement.” I crossed to Daphne, looked down at the image on her tablet she pressed into my hands, then up at Fern who huddled, in visible misery, in the place I’d left her, now shaking violently, starting as though terrified someone might attack her. “This is proof,” Daphne said, “that Fern Baker was one of Natasha’s targets.” Indeed it was, the blog post from what looked like the dead woman’s website featuring none other than the shaking Fern. “She ruined your diner,” Daphne finished, with enough spite and vitriol I wondered about her own state of mental health, “and you killed her for revenge.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Daphne,” I interrupted her triumphant moment, everyone staring in shock at the accusation, “there’s no internet. How do you have access to Natasha’s website?”

  She had the good grace to blush, look down. “I’m not online,” she said. “I make copies of all of Natasha’s victim posts.” Her chin went up, challenging the others to say a word. “Not because I wanted to hurt her. Someone needs to do something about her, that’s all.” She stopped, eyes widening. “Not murder,” she said. “Just… it’s not fair, what she does to people.” Now completely flustered, the pregnant woman took the tablet back with a rather abrupt tug, pressing it to her chest like she was protecting it just as she had her baby. “She was a terrible person who did terrible things to nice people.”

  “It’s true.” Fern’s teeth chattered as she rocked in place, her hands clutching an afghan around her. She started as thunder rolled, the lightning lighting the room so brightly for a moment I blinked stars after. “I wasn’t
just a line cook. I owned my own place. And Natasha ruined me, demanded free food all the time. I finally said no and she wrote that post. Said my kitchen had cockroaches, that I had a issues with the health department.” Fern wept, shuddering when more thunder rattled the windows. “I had the inspector visit one day she was there, that was all. Didn’t matter. Natasha’s hate won and her followers ruined everything.”

  I’d heard of such things happening, the anonymity of online communities turning into mobs that smothered businesses and individuals so quickly and thoroughly there was no way to recover. If Natasha did so to Fern, I had nothing but sympathy for her.

  But Helen’s inhaled, “ah-ha!” and quick exodus had us all waiting a long moment for her return, clutching what looked like her guest book. She handed it to me while Lou Ellen came to join me, the innkeeper pointing at the registry with a shaking finger.

  “Ms. Lange didn’t pay for her own ticket,” she said. “She made a huge deal out of telling me so when she arrived, that someone sent her one. I assumed it was Lou Ellen or you, Persephone. But, if that’s true, why did Fern buy two tickets and come alone?”

  I was with the entire room when we turned to the trembling woman. This time, when the sound that followed the flash shook the building, Fern leaped to her feet and ran past me, dropping the afghan as she fled the room.

  Of course I spun and pursued her. Though where her guilty conscience thought it could take her I wasn’t sure.

  This time, when lightning hit, the bolt struck so close I feared it might have hit the lighthouse, the entire island seeming to tremble as the loudest clap of thunder I’d ever heard had me crying out in surprise and fear.

  I wasn’t the only one, Fern collapsing on the floor just inside the main door, screaming. By the time I reached her, she’d fallen silent and it wasn’t hard to realize why. With her eyes rolled back in her head and body falling limp, it was clear Fern Baker’s ability to handle stress had ended in unconsciousness.

  “Here, let me.” Shauna knelt next to me, lifting the small woman effortlessly into her arms, carrying her next door to the sitting room where I’d held my sessions. She gently laid Fern out on one of the window seats, Lou Ellen appearing with the afghan Fern shed in her flight. I tucked the woman in with a pillow under her head, just as her eyes fluttered and she came back to us.

  The moment more thunder rolled.

  Fern sat up abruptly, hugging me, sobbing while I rubbed her back and realized it wasn’t guilt that had her so worked up.

  “How long have you had a phobia of thunder and lightning, Fern?” I didn’t push her away, but she yielded anyway, lying back, panting, hands clutching at her chest in a way I feared for her heart, though her panic subsided a little as I softly held her wrists.

  “My brother was hit with lightning when we were kids,” she whispered. “He died. I’ve been scared ever since. I can usually shut it out, but it’s so loud and close.” She sobbed then, tugging free of my grip to cover her face in her hands. “Are we going to die?”

  “No, Fern,” I said as gently as I could. “It’s going to be all right.” I nodded to Lou Ellen. “In fact, we’re going to do everything we can to make sure you never have to be afraid again.”

  She nodded beneath her hands before letting them drop, eyes meeting mine. “I sent her the ticket,” she said, voice trembling. “I didn’t kill her, though. I just wanted to watch her.” I’d been witness to that behavior, so I nodded. “To find out her secrets.”

  “To do to her what she did to you.” I understood, even if I couldn’t condone.

  Fern wept again, Lou Ellen taking my place. I turned to find Shauna had already left, headed back to the main room and the others.

  “I thought I asked you to refrain from accusing one another?” No laughter this time, just guilty stares. “I know you’re scared. But I spoke to the sheriff. She knows we need her and she’ll be here just as soon as the storm clears.” She hadn’t said as much, but they seemed to take the news to heart so I hoped Cherise wouldn’t keep us waiting long.

  I debated having everyone go back to their rooms, noted they seemed content to stay together, joined Daphne on the divan she’d claimed, her weary face finally showing she’d changed her mind about the state of affairs.

  “How’s the baby?” She might have overreacted to Fern’s accusation and turned it on the other woman, but I could understand that need to defend her unborn child and herself.

  “Active.” Daphne wrinkled her nose at me. “I’m sorry,” she gushed then. “I shouldn’t have accused Fern like that. We’re all worked up.”

  “Understandable,” I said, pointing at the tablet. “Do you mind if I take a look at the posts?”

  She handed it to me, tucking herself under the throw she pulled from the back of the daybed. “She was truly a despicable person,” Daphne said. “And so are her followers. They took pleasure in ruining businesses and lives. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even safe to bring a life into the world. Why are people so cruel?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said, skimming the posts she’d saved on her tablet, shaking my head. “We have this need to belong, to be part of something bigger than we are. And there’s so much fear, all based on fighting against things. As individuals, I’m sure the majority of Natasha’s followers are good people. But we can get swept up in a wave of emotion and momentum sometimes without realizing we’re hurting others. The first time we see what we’ve done, we can think we did the right thing. But it gets out of hand so fast until it’s cruelty for the sake of belonging.” I paused at one of the entries, frowned.

  Realized in that moment the killer had been under my nose all along.

  Looked up. Caught her eyes. Knew she knew.

  As Shauna Raine rose to her feet and, without appearing to hurry, strode out the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was just fast enough to spot her heading for the kitchen, disappearing through the door, had to run to catch up. I was so intent on catching her, I skidded to a stop and ran through into the dark room without considering the fact she was pretty jacked, not to mention taller than me and about fifteen years younger.

  Except she didn’t pause to fight, was fleeing out the back door into the storm, when I finally realized how stupid I was being.

  She couldn’t go anywhere, after all. There was no way off the—

  I started running again, didn’t call out for help, didn’t think to let anyone know where I was going. All I could think about was what Helen told us while Shauna examined Natasha’s body. About the cliff and the stairs and the rowboat at the bottom. And while the innkeeper may not have thought the small craft ocean worthy in such a storm, it was clear to me Shauna Raine didn’t agree with her.

  At least I knew exactly where she was going.

  I almost tripped over the silly cat who lunged for the door when I opened it, ducking out into the rain for her own reasons. Not my problem since I had a killer to catch and she was obviously capable of taking care of herself.

  It was easier to see outside, ambient light from the storm above as sheet lightning carried across the clouds much more frequent than the long bolts that dove for the water. The rain had tapered off, at least, even the wind seeming to retreat somewhat, though it still felt like a bit of a battle slipping and sliding over the grass toward the edge and the lighthouse as I circled the tall, white structure as fast as I dared.

  Stopping when I reached the far side at the sight of Shauna, hovering at the lip of the steep staircase, hesitating. Her own vertigo issues like the ones I’d felt earlier? The participants all came with their own habits, phobias and vices they wanted tackled. And didn’t Shauna say prior to attending my tapping class she struggled with heights? She hadn’t brought it up in the session, but I was sure she mentioned it.

  “It’s a long way down.” I had to shout to be heard as thunder followed right on the heels of a fresh flash of lightning, wiping water from my eyes, wind stronger on this side of the lighthouse, rain slappin
g my cheeks. Shauna turned toward me, more of nature’s brilliance illuminating the terror on her face.

  “Don’t come any closer!” She held out both hands toward me, panic and desperation at war. “Just stay back!”

  “You won’t make it, Shauna,” I said. “Even if you manage to get to the beach in this wind and rain, the boat will sink out there.” I pointed to the giant whitecaps heading for Wallace. “You’ll capsize, drown. Come back inside. Let’s talk about it.”

  “I didn’t come here to kill her, you know.” Shauna’s voice ached with hurt despite the volume, none of her angst getting lost. “I had no idea she was going to be here. I came to clear the things holding me back.”

  “She was one of them,” I said. “Because of your father.”

  She flinched, hands falling to her sides slowly as if she’d forgotten why she had them raised. “I worried Daphne might make the connection, might have that blog post on her tablet. When I saw you talking with her, scanning them, I knew you’d figure it out.”

  “Your father’s mechanic shop was shut down,” I said. “The photo she used, you’re in it.” She nodded. “Natasha accused him of overcharging and ripping off clients.”

  “My father,” Shauna shouted suddenly, fury in her tall, wide-shouldered body, rain plastering some of her dark blonde hair to her cheek as she practically spit into the wind, “was the most honest, good and kind man I ever knew.”

  “He’s still alive, Shauna,” I said.

  “After her relentless attack drove him to a stroke,” she shot back. “Dad was the only person who ever believed in me, helped me get into vet school, supported me while I studied. He was a good person, and she ruined him. Ruined everything.” Shauna wiped rain from her face, turned to look down the stairs, her terror gone. “I had to put him in a care home. He’s barely sixty-five and he doesn’t even know who I am.” She took a sliding step toward the edge. While confronting phobias under duress wasn’t my suggested method of eliminating fear, sometimes all it took was a deeper one to shift the first out of the way.