Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (21 page)

The cat breeder noticed Skye checking the time and said, “I suppose we’d better get back to the kitchen. Chief Boyd will be getting bored.”

Skye agreed, and with a final stroke for each of the felines that had allowed themselves to be petted, she left the cattery.

Once she and Fawn were in the hallway, Skye said loudly, “Thank you so much for allowing me to see your cats. They are really gorgeous.” She walked slowly, hoping Wally had heard her warning.

Apparently he had, because he was sitting where they had left him. Skye noticed that he was slightly out of breath, and as soon as Fawn turned her back to finish making the tea, Skye raised her eyebrows.

Wally nodded, then asked, “Did you enjoy seeing all the cats?”

“Definitely.” Skye smiled. “Bingo would be so jealous if he saw all their toys.”

Fawn placed a sugar bowl, a teaspoon, and a steaming mug in front of Skye, then fetched her own cup. She
joined Skye and Wally at the table, and the three sat in silence while the two women spooned sugar into their tea and stirred.

After a long moment, Fawn blew on her tea and took a sip. She swallowed; then, as if making up her mind about something, she said, “I didn’t kill Lee Harvey and I didn’t kill Alexis Hightower either, Chief.”

“Oh?”

Fawn looked Wally in the eye, her gaze unwavering. “Both of them were awful excuses for human beings. And it’s certainly better to have loved and lost than to put up with that horrible man for the rest of my life. But I decided a long time ago that who lives and who dies is up to the Lord, not me.”

Skye was surprised to hear Fawn admit that her husband hadn’t been a good man. According to the local gossip and the Laurel police, the woman had never acknowledged Lee Harvey was anything but wonderful.

“That’s a good way of thinking,” Wally said without inflection. “Unfortunately, at least in the case of Ms. Hightower, I need more than just your word that you aren’t the murderer.”

“I checked my e-mail when I got home from the disco bowler party and sent a reply around midnight,” Fawn said. “I forgot about that when Sergeant Quirk asked me about an alibi, but you can check that sort of thing, right?”

“Yes, I believe we can. I’ll have the county crime techs look into it.” Wally made a note. “Who did you e-mail that night?”

“A man who was interested in buying a kitten.” Fawn ran her finger along the rim of her mug. “I let him know that I only had one left, and asked him for some information if he was interested.”

“Information?” Wally asked.

“About his home, how many people lived there, and
why he wanted to buy a purebred instead of just adopting a shelter cat,” Fawn answered. “I always make sure that my babies are going to good homes before I agree to sell them.” Her smile was fierce. “That used to drive Lee Harvey crazy.” She rubbed her wrist again. “But I protected them.”

Wally asked a few more questions, then said, “Thank you for your time.” He got to his feet and waited for Skye to stand. Then as they walked toward the door, he said to Fawn, “Until we can verify your alibi, please don’t leave town without letting me know.”

“Don’t you worry, Chief.” Fawn crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere. This farm has been in my family for a hundred years, and if I didn’t let Lee Harvey run me off, nothing will make me leave.”

O
nce Skye and Wally had gotten into the squad car, she asked, “Did you find anything suspicious or useful when you were looking around the house?”

“Nothing obvious.” Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “In fact, the only thing that was the least bit out of the ordinary was that there are still men’s clothes in the closet and drawers in the master bedroom. So if he left voluntarily, he didn’t take his belongings.”

“On the other hand, if Fawn killed her husband, she’d know he wasn’t coming back and would have gotten rid of his stuff.” Skye bit her lip. “I think she’s afraid that if he does come back and his possessions are gone, he’ll be angry.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Wally stretched. “Or she’s putting on a good show in case his body turns up and the police search her house.”

“I guess that could be true.” Skye shrugged, then said, “Regarding Alexis’s murder, the ME puts the time of death between eleven thirty and twelve thirty, right?”

Wally nodded.

“So if Fawn really sent an e-mail at midnight there’s no way she could have killed Alexis.” Skye paused, calculating
distances and road conditions on Saturday night. “At the very least, it would take Fawn forty-five minutes to drive from Scumble River to her house, probably closer to an hour if she went the speed limit.”

“I agree.” Wally pulled his cell off his belt. “Fawn will be in the clear—at least for our case—if the county crime techs are able to confirm she sent the e-mail at the time she said and from her home computer.”

“I saw her PC. It’s about a hundred years old and money seems tight, so I doubt she has a laptop.”

“We’ll see.” Wally punched a series of numbers into his phone. “I’m going to call the techs right now and ask if they have the ability to determine when, and from where, an e-mail was sent.”

While Wally talked on the phone, Skye freshened up her lipstick. Vince had informed her at her last hair appointment that she was getting too old to go around with bare lips. At the time, she had resented his comment, but later, looking in the mirror, she had to agree that she looked better with some color on her mouth.

“Good news.” Wally closed his phone and turned to her. “The tech says their computer guy can confirm the e-mail info.”

“Great.” Skye smiled. She liked Fawn and wanted to clear her of suspicion—at least for Alexis’s murder. Having been married to a man like Lee Harvey, the poor woman must have suffered enough punishment for two lifetimes. “So that leaves Kyle O’Brien, Lola Martinez, and Ivan Quigley as suspects.”

“Don’t forget Jacobsen,” Wally cautioned as he headed the Caprice back to Scumble River. “Although I know you would like us to overlook him.”

“Did you interview Ivan yourself?” Skye asked, ignoring Wally’s comment about Elijah. “I know you said his housekeeper alibied him, but you also said she changed her statement, which seems pretty fishy to me.”

“He’s on my list, but not anywhere near the top of the page.” Wally concentrated on the road. It was a little after nine p.m. and since it was a moonless night, the countryside was completely dark. “Quigley’s motive is one of the weakest of the bunch. Interfering with his chance to have Fawn for his speed date is pretty minor when he can just pick up a phone and ask her out some other time.”

“True.” Skye nodded. “But it did happen within a couple of hours of Alexis being killed, and as far as we know, she didn’t have an altercation with anyone else between then and her death.”

“I see your point. We can talk to Quigley together tomorrow.” Wally’s agreement was good-natured. “But he’ll probably call his lawyer and clam up, so it might be a wasted trip. He has a lot of influence in this area and he didn’t get as rich as he is by being stupid.”

“Well.” Skye blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s worth a try.”

“Sure.” Wally braked for a deer crossing the road, then waited as two more followed. “Sometimes guys like that are so used to being deferred to, they’re arrogant enough to blurt out something incriminating.”

“Who else do we have to interview?” Skye watched the graceful animals disappear into the woods, hoping they wouldn’t become one of her cousins’ hunting trophies or fill one of their freezers.

“No one I can think of,” Wally admitted. “We’ve interviewed everyone from the cat show, a few of them twice. Alexis had no family to speak of and her only friend seems to be the neighbor who is taking care of her cats. The woman with the airtight alibi.”

“How about the servers, bartender, deejay, and bouncer?” Skye asked, remembering that Wally hadn’t mentioned the staff. “Do they have alibis?”

“We spoke to all of them on the phone and they claim
to have gone home after work.” Wally’s expression was discouraged. “A couple of them live alone, but no one reported seeing any interaction between the vic and the workers. Heck, the only one Alexis seems to have spoken to was a waitress who brought her a couple of drinks.”

“Darn. I suppose that makes the staff unlikely suspects.” Skye chewed on her thumbnail. “Unless—was she mean to that waitress?”

“Nope.” Wally glanced at Skye, who was frowning, and assured her, “Martinez and Zuchowski are checking around to see if there are any connections between the employees and Alexis. But Bunny’s recordkeeping leaves a lot to be desired. She hires a lot of employees off the books, and her only means of contacting them is their phone numbers, which are often pay-as-you-go cells. Which means it’s hard to tell if the staff has ever crossed paths with the vic before.”

“I figured you were on top of it.” Skye smiled and patted his knee. “I’m so thankful that you don’t get all defensive when I make suggestions. A lot of men would have a problem with that.”

“Why?” Wally drew his brows together. “I know I’m a good police officer, but no one can think of everything.” He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “My main concern has always been catching the bad guys. If I was worried about getting my ego bruised, I would never have hired you as the department’s psych consultant.”

“I know you don’t want to be called sweet, so how about awesome?” Skye teased. “Or maybe incredible and amazingly wonderful.”

“Awesome works for me.” Wally grinned. “And hot and sexy are always good.”

For the rest of the drive they discussed wedding plans. They agreed to have the reception at the Country Mansion
in Dwight—the restaurant that had been the site of their first real date. Skye was fairly certain that the Mansion’s banquet facility would be available on December thirtieth, since all the Christmas parties would be over and New Year’s Eve wasn’t until the next day. But if the restaurant was unavailable, there was always the country club, the American Legion, or even the Grand Union of the Mighty Bulls assembly hall.

Skye already knew which three people she would ask to be her attendants, but Wally wasn’t sure which friends he’d ask to stand up for him. She suggested his cousin. Although she had never met the man, she knew he worked for Wally’s dad in Texas. But Wally seemed less than enthusiastic about that idea, saying they weren’t all that close. They were discussing his other possible choices for groomsmen when they pulled into Skye’s driveway.

A second later, the police radio crackled into life, and the dispatcher’s voice said, “Ten-thirty-three at the First National Bank.”

“An alarm is going off.” Wally translated for Skye. “Martinez is on duty alone tonight. I’d better go back her up. Sorry.”

“No problem.” Skye understood Wally’s concern for the young rookie.

“It’s probably nothing.” Wally stopped the squad car in front of Skye’s porch. “Those alarms go off when a butterfly lands on them.”

“Sure.” Skye leaned over and kissed his cheek, then hopped out of the Caprice and said, “Go ahead.”

“Unless it’s too late, I’ll call you when I’m finished checking things out.” Wally waved, put the cruiser in reverse, and took off toward town with his siren blaring and his lights flashing.

Skye was almost relieved that Wally had had to leave. Although she missed him when they spent a night apart, she needed to deal with the Mrs. Griggs situation before
he stayed over again. She was fairly sure another instance of coitus interruptus would push him over the edge, making him hate her house, and she’d end up living in new construction when they got married.

It was already quarter to ten when Skye let herself into the house. But no matter how tired she was, tonight she was going to read the ghost-busting file and figure out what she would need to do to get rid of the former owner’s spirit once and for all. Mrs. Griggs’s shenanigans with the phones ringing and the doorbell buzzing the previous evening had sealed her fate. It was time for the apparition to go toward the light—or wherever ghosts went when they left this mortal plane.

With Bingo on her heels, Skye darted into the kitchen and grabbed the exorcism folder, paper, and a pen. The black cat protested loudly when she didn’t dish out a second dinner, then hunkered down by his bowl and glared at her as she sat at the table.

Skye chewed on the end of her Bic as she read the instructions for the “cleansing.” According to the clippings she had found on the Internet, the task required a willingness to open one’s mind to mystical pathways and a certain level of spirituality.

She could handle that. She definitely had an open mind and she certainly believed that there was more than just what was visible to the eye. As long as the ritual didn’t include killing chickens or making some sort of blood sacrifice with a pentagram, she was okay with it.

She was also reassured to read that an exorcism was intended to banish not just demons, but any spirit that was a source of negative energy and adversely affecting your life. The article claimed that the ceremony had its roots in Native American and druid cultures, and that an average person could safely perform the ritual without the help of a priest or minister.