The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret Page 3

  “Your back door’s not locked—again.” She set the pitcher on the counter and reached for a glass above the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living area. “Tea?”

  “Absolutely. Just finished the hem on my dress and couldn’t have so much as a glass of water near it for fear of spilling anything.”

  “It’s finished?”

  “Almost,” I answered. “A few alterations are still needed.”

  “Did you hear what I said to you, Jillian? It’s not safe to leave your door unlocked.” She added ice to our glasses and poured the tea.

  “But I had to hurry in here and get Magpie downstairs for a bath without a clowder of cats on my heels.”

  “I get that.” She sounded like a mother scolding a child. “But Tom added that app to your phone where you can remotely lock up the house. Why not use it?” She handed me my glass.

  “You’re right.” I smiled. “But wait until you’re my age in twenty or so years and see how well you remember what apps are on your phone.”

  Candace laughed. “You’re only forty-something, so don’t think I buy that excuse. I only want you to be careful.”

  “Let’s sit. You look tired and it’s not even the end of your shift.”

  “I can talk for a bit, but first, you have something I need.” She pulled a small plastic evidence bag from her pocket.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ed told me about a locket. I sure hope you still have it.”

  “Oh my gosh. I forgot all about it.” I pulled it from my pocket and held it up. “You want me to drop it in the evidence bag?”

  I suddenly had Syrah’s complete attention. He stood up on his back legs for a second to get a better look. In his world, dangling objects must be focused on—and attacked whenever possible.

  “Hang on a sec.” She set the evidence bag on the counter and then I noticed she had her camera strapped across her chest. She gave a quick pet to both Syrah and Chablis. Merlot and Magpie remained where I’d last seen them, sniffing each other as they sat about an inch apart on the window seat.

  Candace took several pictures of the locket and then backed up her photos by taking shots with her phone.

  “Did you open that thing up?” she asked.

  “No. I haven’t touched it since we unwound it from Magpie’s leg—because I forgot all about it. There is a major life event in my near future, if you remember.”

  Her blue eyes brightened. “An exciting one, for sure.” She took latex gloves from her pocket and pulled them on. “Okay, I’ll carefully open the locket so I can catch a few pics and then close it up again. Just keep holding on the way you’re doing now.”

  Syrah jumped on the kitchen counter. He definitely wanted a closer look.

  “You better hurry up, Candace, or another cat will take off with this tempting piece of jewelry.”

  But Syrah, to my surprise, didn’t paw at the locket as I expected, though it certainly held his attention. Once Candace finished taking photos of the etched gold locket while it was open, she took the chain, carefully grasping it in the same place I had done. She asked me to open the evidence bag so she could place the necklace inside.

  “I couldn’t see what was in there, Candace—and I sure want to know.”

  “A picture of a baby. Don’t know how old, but an infant for sure. Maybe the crime lab can give us an approximate date of the photo.” She showed me the baby’s picture on the camera.

  “Just this one picture?” I asked.

  “Yup. Bald baby, so whether it’s a boy or a girl is anyone’s guess.”

  “Maybe there’ll be a clue when the crime lab people take it apart—like writing on the back. By the way, I am so sorry I’ve been walking around all day with the necklace.”

  Candace was dating the evidence bag with a Sharpie she’d pulled from her breast pocket. “I have it now, so no problem. I did find more possible evidence of a crime when Ed took me over to that donation box. Unfortunately, when he picked up the sofa, his truck ran over any previous tire impressions in the ground.”

  “So you did find something.” I was almost afraid to hear what it was.

  “More blood in the dirt where the sofa had been sitting. I’m surprised Ed didn’t see it, but then he was dragging that sofa all by himself and probably overlooked it. Man’s gonna have a heart attack one day if he keeps trying to do everything by himself.”

  “You’ll never get him to understand that. Karen has tried and failed to convince him many times. So, what’s next? Because somebody could be hurt somewhere, right?” I gestured for Candace to take a seat at the small mosaic-topped table in my breakfast nook that overlooked the lake. “Why not get off your feet for a bit and we can enjoy our tea while you tell me what’s happening?”

  Candace nodded and once seated across from me, she sighed before taking a long drink. “I phoned the hospital, not to mention every doctor in town about a possible GSW victim. Came up with nothing. It’s frustrating. We don’t have the ability to search such a large grassy area without help. The county sheriff’s K-9 unit is backed up with cases, so I’m stuck. If I put crime scene tape up, it will draw attention and folks will march all over the place. Besides, I’m not sure it is a crime scene.”

  “My gut tells me it is. And I’m guessing you think so, too.”

  “Oh, something happened all right, but it could be a secondary scene.” She closed her eyes. “It makes me antsy because more evidence might be destroyed before we can thoroughly investigate the area.”

  “I’ll bet a few people already saw you by that box and are talking about it,” I said.

  “Oh, no doubt. Nothing gets by people in Mercy. I’m meeting a woman over there later today and she’ll open the donation box. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a clue to this mystery in there.”

  “Who’s the woman? Because I know some of the ladies who volunteer at the charity that services that box. Those people can be pretty . . . um, let’s call them talkative.”

  “Her name is Rebecca Marner. You know her?”

  “Oh, for sure. She’s the head of about three volunteer committees. I can see why she’d have the key to that box.”

  Candace raised her eyebrows. “Busybody or know-it-all?”

  “How did you—”

  “Your tone, Jillian. You don’t want to say anything unkind about anyone, but don’t forget how well I understand you. So give me the skinny on this woman.”

  “I’d put her in the ‘know-it-all’ category.” I whispered “know-it-all” as if Rebecca Marner might overhear me.

  Candace’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “Great. I have problems relating to know-it-alls. And Chief Baca has even told me I need to work on my people skills as he calls them. Ms. Marner’s name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure I’ve ever met her.”

  “You’ll probably recognize her when you see her. I’ve run into her quite a few times when I took quilts I’ve made for soldiers’ children over to the community center. Do you know Zoe? She’s over there all the time volunteering.”

  Candace nodded. “Nice woman.”

  “She is,” I replied. “Anyway, she introduced me to Rebecca, who within minutes was telling me everything she does to help out in Mercy—which is nice, of course, but most folks around here don’t start conversations that way. Anyhow, her husband owns a construction company. And get this. Zoe is married to Rebecca’s first husband, yet she’s saying all this sweet stuff about her. That’s a rare thing.”

  Candace’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait a minute. Are you talking about Rhett Marner? Those women have both been married to him?”

  “Zoe still is. You’d think it would make for a few awkward moments in the charity volunteer circles, but they’re quite friendly. So you know Rhett Marner?”

  “Oh, yes. He builds mostly commercial stuff.
Mercy is growing and he’s been pretty busy on various projects—like the new office building. We’ve had to break up a few fistfights there as well as at other sites he supervises. Some of the workers he hires must have cut their teeth on their daddies’ rifle barrels.”

  “Gosh, we never had any problems like that when John and I built this house. But then, John was very hands-on and such a kind man. The atmosphere set by the people in charge can really make a difference.”

  “Speaking of your late husband, is the wedding bringing up lots of . . . memories?”

  “It is. But even though it sounds like a cliché, I know John would want me to be happy. Tom makes me happy.” I smiled.

  She answered with a grin, “He’s a good man. If I didn’t think he was great, I wouldn’t be putting on a dress to stand by your side in church.”

  “I can’t wait to see you in that dress. It looked so pretty on the hanger.”

  Candace picked up the evidence bag with the locket, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I need to book this as evidence—of what I’m not sure yet.” Then she just stared at her shoes for several seconds.

  “What’s bothering you, Candace?”

  She met my gaze. “I know you’re crazy busy with your wedding preparations, so—”

  “If you need my help, just ask.”

  “You know this Rebecca person and I tend to suffer from foot-in-mouth disease when it comes to know-it-alls. Would you mind coming with me to meet her—not only to introduce me but to keep me in line? Maybe you can clear your throat or something when I say something I shouldn’t?”

  I laughed. “Since when has anyone been able to keep you in line? But of course I’ll go with you.”

  Four

  Once Candace booked the locket into the evidence room, we had thirty minutes to spare before meeting Rebecca at the donation box, so we decided to stop at Belle’s Beans and pick up coffee. The afternoon was growing chilly, bringing enough wind to knock plenty of leaves off the many trees that lined the street. Candace mumbled about her fear of any impending rain destroying potential evidence near that donation box.

  Luckily for us, she found a parking spot in front of Belle’s Beans just as someone was pulling out. Main Street seemed pretty crowded for late afternoon. We both ordered coffee to go from the Belle of the Day—whose real name was Tina. Owner and good friend Belle Lowry always had her baristas wear a name tag that said “Belle.”

  I suggested we also buy a coffee for Rebecca, and Candace agreed it was a good idea. We added that to the order. I’d carry sugar and creamer with me so she could doctor her own drink.

  As we waited for our order to come up, I noted that Belle’s Beans buzzed with conversation. Each lacquered table was occupied and every barstool along the wall was taken. Either Mercy’s population was booming or teenagers were growing into adults way too fast. I had a feeling the cooler October weather might also have something to do with the influx of customers.

  Candace’s double-shot flavor of the day was up, as well as the plain coffee for Rebecca. We were still waiting on my decaf vanilla latte when Belle walked toward us. She’d been in the back room and carried a tray of pastries to refill the display case on top of the counter. The sight of cupcakes with thick, rich-looking frosting, raspberry bars and brownies made my mouth water. She baked all these goodies herself and I wondered how the woman ever had time to sleep.

  “Hey there. My girls are here.” Her smile was lopsided because of her misapplied lipstick. She wasn’t wearing her new glasses, which explained the makeup malfunction.

  After shoving the tray on top of the display case, she came around the counter and hugged us both.

  “At my age, you can call me one of your girls all day long,” I said.

  “You’re a bride-to-be and that makes you ageless. Besides, you’re twenty years younger than me, so that makes you a girl, at least to my way of thinking.” Belle’s snow-white hair and laugh lines made her as beautiful as any twenty-year-old to me. “What kind of trouble are you two up to now?” she asked.

  “Trouble? Us?” Candace’s tone sounded mischievous.

  “I do see a problem lurking in those pretty blue eyes, Deputy Candace Carson—even though you’re smiling.” Belle glanced at Tina. “Sweet pea, would you replenish the bakery case, please?”

  Tina nodded.

  Candace said, “You are correct as usual, Belle. I am a little . . . puzzled.” I saw a spark light her eyes. “Maybe you can help.” She unclipped her phone from her utility belt.

  While Candace unlocked her phone, I said, “It’s so busy in here. Tell me you will make it to my wedding and not be tied up working.”

  “Does a fifty-pound sack of flour make a giant biscuit? Of course I’ll be there.”

  I smiled. “Whew. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Candace swiped her phone screen looking for a picture and then held it out to Belle. “Have you ever seen this piece of jewelry on any of your customers?”

  Belle squinted at the screen and I almost asked her where those new glasses were. But I kept my mouth shut, not wanting her to think I was a meddler. She was quite capable of taking care of herself.

  “It does look familiar.” Belle cocked her head. “Why do you need to know?”

  “I don’t want to contaminate your memory with any knowledge I have concerning this locket—which is precious little, by the way.”

  Belle nodded. “Shoulda known I’d get nothing out of you. Can I think on it? Sometimes I need to wade through the maze I call my mind before something comes to me. After sixty-eight years there’s a lotta junk in my personal attic.”

  Candace and I laughed.

  “I’m counting on you, Belle, so yes, think on it.” Candace put her phone back on her belt. “You know how to reach me.” She looked my way. “We gotta get moving, Jillian.”

  I hugged Belle. “Glad you’ll be there next Saturday,” I whispered.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now get after Miss Speed Demon or she’ll be halfway to wherever before you can blink.”

  Belle was right. Candace drove as though she wanted to join Danica Patrick on the NASCAR circuit. I grabbed my latte as well as the sugar and cream, then hurried out of the shop. Candace was already climbing into her squad car.

  Worried I might trip and spill my coffee, I went as fast as possible without running. Wasting Belle’s coffee would be a sin. By the time I set Rebecca’s drink down in the cup holder and was hitching up my seat belt, Candace had already lurched into drive and we were on our way.

  The charity drop box was about a tenth of a mile from the turnoff to Mercy Animal Sanctuary. The large wooden donation box was painted green and on the side that faced the rural road was a sign that read CHARITY THRIFT STORE. PLEASE DONATE SHOES, CLOTHING, COATS AND SMALL HOUSEHOLD ITEMS. Though in a rather remote spot, it was so close to the busy animal adoption site that many people with good intentions visited. I remembered one of the volunteers at the charity store saying how surprised she was at the amount of nice stuff they received from this particular box. It had to be checked for overflow at least once a week.

  Candace and I stood by the sign to wait for Rebecca. The already brisk wind was picking up, making me glad I’d worn a sweatshirt with a front pouch where I could tuck my hands. The brown, shriveled leaves that had been on the ground now danced around us everywhere.

  Candace said, “When Ms. Marner shows up, I won’t say much about what I’m looking for, so if you could keep her occupied, I’d sure appreciate it.”

  “I’ll try. But you can bet she’ll be asking questions. What should I say?”

  Candace thought for a second. “Say someone isn’t sure if they threw something in here by accident or if the item was stolen from their house. Tell her you don’t know much more than that. It might be a white lie—but I’m not really sure what I’m looking for
.”

  “Maybe she’ll take the lead and mention something about thefts in Mercy. She does like to talk—though mostly about herself.”

  “I’ll bet you can make that happen without much prompting, Jillian. I don’t want her looking over my shoulder, is all. We could find bloody clothes or even a weapon in this box and she’d be sure to spread the word all over town about a find like that.”

  I glanced toward the road. “Nothing like a little pressure—and I believe that’s her pulling over behind your squad car right now in her pretty Lexus SUV. She always dresses as if she has money. Guess she does.”

  Rebecca Marner did not come dressed to collect anything from a donation box. She wore a fuchsia suit—looked expensive—and shoes that would probably pay someone’s mortgage for the month. Certainly not walking-around-in-the-country shoes, that’s for sure. The wind couldn’t budge even one highlighted blond hair as she approached us. She’d probably put on enough spray and gel to protect against a hurricane.

  In the past, I always thought she seemed younger than me—maybe late thirties. But as she approached us today, she seemed older than that, maybe even late forties. Could be the tightness I detected in her jaw. But then she produced a smile that belonged on a campaign poster as she greeted me with double fake kisses on my cheeks—fake being the key word. Her smile made all the difference and I decided I had no idea how old she was.

  She thanked me for the coffee I offered, but refused, saying she didn’t want to ruin her lipstick or spill it on her suit. I took a deep breath as she shook Candace’s hand, knowing it would help me remain calm in the face of such a phony. I liked most people, could look past their flaws and find something good. But people who pretended to be more than they were always bothered me the most. This week I felt on edge with so much going on and I only hoped I could find the good in Rebecca Marner to help me through this little meeting while Candace did her job.

  Rebecca pulled a key ring from the dark pink-and-black leather tote hung in the crook of her elbow. “Let me see. I empty all the boxes and each one has a unique key. Not that the locks keep vandals away. Our philosophy is, however, if they need clothes and shoes that badly, they are welcome to break into our boxes.” She offered a constrained tittering laugh that, to me, meant “I don’t believe what I just said for a minute.”