Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

 It was inevitable that the press
would latch on to the story once the claim had been filed with the court. Two
days later they received official notice of the lawsuit and the first of the
head-lines was splashed across the front page of the local paper:

MILLIONAIRE MOUSER MISSING. FOUL PLAY
FEARED.

The lawsuit named the Dunbars and
Chris as co-defendants, claiming the estate and court costs, and the papers
made the most of his inclusion in the suit, his as yet undefined relationship
with Alicia, the fact that he was the trustee for the estate, and then raised
the twin specters of breach of trust and disbarment.

Oh, Mrs. Dunbar, what have you
done?

Faces were grim at the council of
war, as Alicia had not so playfully dubbed it, the following Friday. Dave Jukes,
the senior partner had agreed to handle the case and it was in his office that
they were meeting.

If Chris had had any illusions as
to Dave’s motives in championing their cause, they had been quickly dispelled.
Chris was now on a ‘voluntary’ leave of absence, voluntary in that, while he
had no choice in the matter, they hadn’t asked for his resignation, and he was
too relieved to argue. And they were right about one thing, however
unintentionally, he had placed them in a position where a ruling in favor of
the plaintiff could seriously damage the firm’s reputation and credibility.
Dave had as much to lose or gain by the decision as any of them.

“I don’t need to tell you how bad
this looks for all of us,” Dave said, distractedly running his lean fingers
through crisp brown hair, liberally sprinkled with gray. Old Mrs. Dunbar’s
comments to the contrary, David Jukes was no nincompoop, and if he was this
worried ... The lump in Chris’ stomach could have been used as a basketball. “You
have to find that cat. Without him ... God, Chris, how could you let this
happen?” He was up and pacing.

“Now look, Dave ...” Chris began
hotly.

“No, you look, Chris. Without
that animal, who’s going to believe anything we might say in your defense? You
were the animal’s trustee. You were responsible for his welfare. The will is
more than explicit about the possibility of his needing a protector. And what
happens? You become involved with the family. You’re linked romantically with
the one person who would benefit directly from the cat’s death. The cat
disappears and to top it all off, a witness will swear you were overheard
abusing him immediately beforehand. And what is your response? The cat is
sulking. Good Lord, the only defense that comes to mind is that no-one with
half a brain would concoct such a ridiculous scheme and honestly expect to get
away with it.” A motley red color had risen gradually up his neck, washed over
his face and was edging slowly towards his slightly receding hairline.

Alicia had heard enough. She
surged to her feet, her eyes flashing blue-green fire. “I thought you were
supposed to be on our side. We aren’t guilty of anything. And the only thing
Chris is guilty of is kindness. If you don’t want to represent us, we’ll find
someone else who will, someone who believes we’re innocent.”

Dave looked from her to Chris and
returned to his chair, mopping his brow. “Ok, I get it.”

“The cat will turn up, Dave,”
Chris said quietly. “All we need is time. You’ve got to stall as long as
possible. They have no proof of anything because there’s nothing to prove.
Nothing has happened to the cat, I promise you. Nothing. We just need time to
find him. You’ve got to get us that time.”

Dave nodded wearily. There was no
other choice. “I’ll do what I can, Chris, but for all our sakes, find that
animal, and fast!”

Grateful for even the possibility
of a reprieve, no matter how short, Chris hurried the others out of the office.
They had no time to waste. The problems just kept on mounting.

Finances presented the greatest immediate
concern. With the suit in the courts, all assets of the Dunbar estate had been
frozen - no allowance or household expenses was being paid, and while James
still received his salary from the firm, it was, as Alice had said, a nominal
one. Matters were made worse by the fact that James had insisted on putting up
his 51% of the company as collateral for the loan the estate had given him. It
hadn’t seemed important at the time, and while Chris had thought it
unnecessary, and told him so, it seemed to be a gesture James needed to make,
and so Chris hadn’t argued. Now, should they lose the case, they would lose
everything.

Chris’ own position was little
better. The ‘extended vacation’ was without pay and most of his savings had
gone to buying the partnership in the firm. Alice had offered him a room at the
house, but under the circumstances, he felt that to be unwise. He had enough in
his accounts to meet expenses for a couple of months. It was the long term that
worried him. Disbarment. If it should come to that, and it could if he were
convicted of breach of trust, his career was over. What he would do then he
couldn’t imagine.

Alice summed up his feelings
exactly as they left the building following the meeting. “My God, what a mess.
I know that’s been said before, but it bears repeating.”

Chris nodded vigorously, and
added, “I don’t know about the rest of you but I could use a drink.”

“And some lunch,” Alicia put in
fervently.

“My poor starved darling. It’s
only three hours since you ate.”

She turned aggrieved eyes towards
him. “Can I help it if crises make me ravenous?”

“Well then we’d better get this
one solved soon.” Chris took her hand and started down the street. “Let’s go to
Di Angelo’s. Their food’s always good. One last hurrah before the
belt-tightening begins. And we’d better call Mrs. Stuart when we get there and
tell her not to expect us back for lunch.”

Alicia nodded happily. “But if
she’s already prepared something, we can always have it for an afternoon snack.”

James swore devoutly under his
breath. Alice ‘Tsk-tsked’ in appalled amusement. But Chris, besotted fool that
he was, found himself grinning broadly and nodding back.

Di Angelo’s was doing their usual
brisk lunch trade and there could be quite a wait, but remembering his last
meal there with James, Chris felt confident they wouldn’t have to. The crew and
passengers of the Titanic felt confident too as they boarded that ill-fated
vessel. Their confidence was no more misplaced than his.

They waited twenty minutes for a
table, and then it was in the back by the kitchen door. As they crossed the
room there were no friendly smiles or words of greeting, but rather hostile
stares and heads turned pointedly in another direction, conversations which
ceased abruptly and then resumed in sibilant whispers when they’d passed.

Alicia walked head held high and
proudly, but by the way her hand gripped his arm, Chris knew she was shocked
and hurt by their reaction. It was something they’d discussed as a possibility
but had never really credited until now. Not in ‘their’ town. Alice Dunbar
could face-down an army of spiteful tongue-waggers, though, and malicious eyes
fell at her scornful glance.

Lunch was painfully cheerful.
Alicia chattered animatedly and ate virtually nothing. The rest of them did
their best to follow her lead and keep up their ends of the conversation. The
one bright spot in an otherwise miserable meal occurred as they were preparing
to leave. There was a commotion at a table across the room, a man and a woman
arguing, then the man, ignoring his wife’s objections and restraining hand, got
up and crossed the floor towards them.

James and Chris rose to their
feet simultaneously, Chris to ward off a possibly unpleasant confrontation, but
James, surprisingly, smiled and held out his hand. It was grasped and shaken
vigorously.

“James, Alice,” the newcomer
began, still clutching James’ hand, “I had to come and tell you that whatever
these fools think, I don’t believe a word of it and I’m going to do all I can
to see you through this unpleasant affair.”

James smiled gratefully. “We
appreciate that, Bill. I can’t tell you how much. This whole thing has left us
in a state of shock.”

Willliam Ferguson, tall and
distinguished-looking with silver hair and a bristling mustache, was Chairman
of the Town Council and a member of one of the town’s oldest and most
distinguished families. He and James had gone to school together and were still
close friends. He was a valuable ally, and more importantly just now, his
support was a real morale booster. The stiff, artificial smile on Alice’s face
relaxed into one of genuine warmth, while the tension in Alicia’s body
gradually eased.

“Chris, have you met ... No?
Bill, this is Chris Mallory, our attorney. Chris, Bill Ferguson.”

“Pleased to meet you, young man.”

“And I’m more than pleased to
meet you.” Chris’ hand was also vigorously shaken. “It was a gallant gesture,
coming over. Obviously not a popular position, judging by the reaction of the
room.” Heads were shaking and angry looks sent their way. Mrs. Ferguson,
scarlet with mortification, was looking for a place to hide.

“Bloody fools!” was Bill’s
snorted comment. “Believe everything they read. Well, I have some influence in
this town and I’ll see to it that the real facts get round. Knock some sense
into their thick heads. Can’t muzzle that rag, the Bulletin, unfortunately. If
it were still old Simpson running it I could have had a few quiet words with
him, but he’s retired and moved to Florida. His son has it now and he’s out to
boost circulation. Yellow journalism, I call it.”

“You know we’d appreciate any
help you can give us, Mr. Ferguson ... O.K., Bill, but I don’t think that
attempting to muzzle the newspaper would be a good idea. Might just give people
the idea we’ve something to hide, which we don’t.”

“Just so, just so. I hadn’t
thought of that. You’re quite right.” He gave him an appraising look and turned
to James. “Hang onto this one, Jim. He’s got a head on his shoulders. Must be
off. Louise is chomping at the bit over there. Don’t you worry, you’ve still
got friends. Don’t be put off by this lot. Your family’s done a lot for this
town and I’ll see they don’t forget it.”

Another round of earnest
hand-wringing and he was gone, leaving a much more confident group in his wake.

Tension did lessen in the
following days. James’ and Alice’s true friends rallied round and they managed
to face down the spite and censure of the rest of the town. The anonymous cards
and notes continued but they’d become reasonably immune to their malice and
vicious accusations, and actually managed to find some of them amusing. The one
accusing them of ‘catricide’ was pinned on the fridge door to read when things
were getting them down.

And occasionally there was a
message that would remind them that all the world wasn’t against them. Chris
found Alicia crying over one such e-mail.

“Well I feel a right fool,” she
laughed and blew her nose. “After the ‘serial pet murderer’ letter, I was
feeling really down and then I received this.” She stopped to blow her nose
again. “It’s from Alex Craig.”

He took a deep breath before
asking, casually, “Alex?”

She looked up quickly. He really
wasn’t a very good actor and, in the midst of all that misery, she suddenly
felt ridiculously happy. “Short for Alexandra.” she said, and grinned. “We were
roommates in college and she’s the best friend I have. She was always Alex and
I was Ali. And sometimes, we were both just Al. Alicia and Alexandra. What were
our mothers thinking?”

“Well, I assume yours was naming
you after herself.”

“Yes, and Alex was named after
her father, Alexander. I suppose I was lucky not to be called Jamesina!” She
laughed.

“Or Jemima,” he added, happy to
see her smile.

“Actually, I always wanted to be
called Jamie, but whenever I tried it out, people always said I didn’t look
like a Jamie.”

“They were right. You don’t. You
look like an Alicia.”

She threw a cushion at him. “What
an awful thing to say.”

“Why? Alicia makes me think of
someone beautiful and elegant.”

The look she gave him turned his
bones to jelly. “I guess you’re forgiven.”

She turned back to the letter. A
cushion flew past her head. She jumped up and hid behind the chair.

“Come to think of it,” he said,
sending another pillow her way, “it would be ‘Jamie’ who hurled cushions and I’m
sure ‘Alicia’ wouldn’t have your right hook.”

“That would be ‘Al’,” she said,
laughing as she shot one back. “Anyway,” she continued, going back to the
computer, “Alex has been in Germany on and off for almost two years now. Her
mother phoned her when she read about us in the Toronto newspapers and she sent
me this from Germany. “Alex’s family has a farm in King Township, just north of
Toronto. Her passion is horses. She started riding almost before she could
walk. When she wanted to make them her career, her mother made her a deal: if
she took a university degree in something useful, something she could make a
living at if necessary, her mother would finance her horse career when she
graduated. They’re loaded, so money isn’t a problem. We used to spend weekends
on the farm. I loved it. She taught me to ride and I caught the bug too. She
has a fabulous horse that she bought in Germany. They’ve been over there with a
top dressage trainer, training and competing. Her dream is to make the Olympic
team next summer. Anyway, she writes that she’s appalled at what’s going on,
and if she can do anything at all, just ask. And any financial support they can
offer will be arranged whenever we need it. Isn’t she wonderful?”

“A good friend. Let’s just hope
it doesn’t come to that.”

It was only a couple of days
later that Alicia heard from another old friend. This time it was more of a
shock than a surprise.

The phone had rung shortly after
lunch and Alicia had run to answer it. Minutes later, she returned to the
dining room with a strange look on her face.

She avoided Chris’ eyes as she
said, “You’ll never guess who that was. Andrew!”

“You mean your boyfriend from
college, Andrew?” Her mother asked, shocked.

“One and the same.”

“What did he want?” There was a
definite chill in Alice’s voice.

“He’s in town and he wants to
meet me.” She still couldn’t look at Chris. “He read about us in the newspaper
and says he wants to help if he can.”

“I can’t imagine that there is
anything he could possibly do to help.” Alice’s tone was decidedly waspish but
she didn’t care. She didn’t want Alicia to see him again. He had hurt her
daughter in some way, hurt her so badly she had lost herself. Alicia never
would say what had happened that last year. Her mother didn’t want him to have
another chance. Besides, she liked Chris. She secretly hoped that one day he
would be her son-in-law.

She glanced his way to see how he
was reacting but his eyes were downcast and his face shuttered. Damn Andrew!

Damn Andrew
pretty much
summed up Chris’ feelings as well. It hadn’t escaped him that Alicia couldn’t
look at him. He remembered her telling him how she had imagined that man’s
showing up some day to tell her that he had been wrong, that he loved her and
couldn’t live without her. Was this that day? And if it was, what would her
answer be?

Damn Andrew! Damn him to Hell!