Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) (21 page)

Back at the ‘Murder Board’ once
more, while Alex went upstairs for a hot shower, a discouraged Alicia added the
pittance they had learned to the list and wrapped herself in an Afghan and
flung herself down on the couch.

Marmalade padded into the room,
jumped on the sofa, settled down on her chest, his head on his paws, and stared
reproachfully into her eyes.

“Hi, Marmie. You’re feeling
neglected, aren’t you? I’m sorry. Once this murder is solved, we’ll all have
more time for you again. I know you don’t care who killed that nasty man, and I
wouldn’t either if my prints weren’t all over the murder weapon. Believe me
when I tell you, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Stroking his silky fur,
she looked at the board to consider the results of their labors.

A long day of tailing Jennifer
all over town had produced little in the way of new information. Either she was
innocent or she was a lot shrewder than they had given her credit for. Unless
Bill Abbot had had an enemy they knew nothing about, Jennifer Abbot was still
their most likely candidate for his killer but there was absolutely no evidence
that she had done it.

What had Sherlock Holmes said? ‘When
you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must
be the truth.’ That Jennifer Abbot was guilty of her husband’s murder was
definitely quite probable, but proving it seemed to be well-nigh impossible.
And without more proof, they still had nothing more than gossip and suspicions.

They needed hard evidence, and as
Alicia thawed out, an idea began bouncing around in her brain of how they might
just be able to get it. After a little more cogitation and a brief phone call,
she called Chris at his office. He had been away for a day on some mysterious
business trip to Toronto, and so hadn’t heard about any of their latest
exploits in detection.

“Hi, honey, what’s up?” he asked
when she’d reached him.

“Is this call being recorded?”
she asked, suspiciously.

“Recorded? Of course not. You’ve
been watching too many spy thrillers.”

“No, a lot of businesses
routinely record phone calls these days and I don’t want to say anything that
might be misinterpreted.”

“I think you’re becoming
paranoid.”

“Just because you’re paranoid
doesn’t mean they’re not recording your phone conversations,” she miss-quoted.

Alicia quickly filled him in
about tailing Jennifer and their ‘research’ at the shelter the day before,
expecting a verbal pat on the back. Instead, Chris was furious that they had
accosted Ray Price on their own and told her the new rule was, ‘No confronting
murder suspects without Chris.’ Alicia thought that was particularly funny,
considering what she had planned, but she agreed on principle.

“Anyway, there’s something we
need to discuss and I don’t want my folks to know about it ,so I want you to
take me to dinner tonight.”

“Is this just a sneaky way to get
me to take you out?”

“No!” Smirking, she thought she
didn’t need a murder investigation to do that. “I really have something we need
to talk about and I have the perfect excuse to tell Mom and Dad. Since Alex is
here for a visit, and I want you two to get to know each other, I thought we
could make reservations at the Driftwood Inn. They have great food and there
would be less chance of meeting someone we know than here in town.” She had it
all worked out. It really wasn’t so difficult being a detective.

“Is this Alex your horsey friend,
now your partner in crime?” he asked with a laugh.

“Funny you should put it that
way,” she replied, thinking he didn’t know how close to the truth he was. “Yes,
and I really do want you two to get to know each other. So what do you say?”

“My pleasure. I’ll call and make
a reservation.”

“No need. I’ve already made one
for seven o’clock. You can pick us up at six.” And she hung up.

‘Whatever else,’ Chris thought, ‘life
with Alicia would never be dull.’

Dutifully, he arrived at the
house promptly at six o’clock. The mysterious business in Toronto was quickly
explained when he produced an emerald and diamond engagement ring and slipped
it on Alicia’s finger. Needless to say, departure for the Inn was somewhat
delayed.

Chris and Alex hit it off
immediately. He could see why she and Alicia were such good friends. They had
the same impish look in their eyes, truly partners in crime. The three of them
bundled up and left for the Inn.

Alicia hadn’t included Shae in
her plans that night. Her Tony had showed up out of the blue the night before.
As soon as he’d heard about the murder, he’d dropped everything to come and
make sure she was all right. Shae had described him as ‘computer-nerdy’ but she’d
forgotten to add ‘sexy’, sort of like Jeff Goldblum in Independence Day. They
were having a romantic dinner for two because he had to go home the next
morning. Alicia thought this was just perfect. The fewer people who knew what
she had in mind the better.

Half an hour later they were
seated comfortably in the lounge at the Driftwood Inn, waiting for their table
to be ready. The inn was reminiscent of an English country house - lots of
padding and chintz. There was a welcome fire in an enormous hearth. Hunting
prints and horse brass on the walls completed the picture.

When their table was ready, they
were led to a quiet corner in a bay window with a view of the lake. The tables
were laid with crystal and silver, and adorned with vases of fresh flowers.
Once they’d ordered, Chris sat back to enjoy his drink and the elegant
ambiance, but Alicia got straight to the point.

“I want to have a look around
Jennifer Abbot’s house,” she announced.

Chris’ cocktail went down the
wrong way and it was necessary for Alicia to thump him on the back to clear his
windpipe. Wiping his streaming eyes, he darted a look around to see if anyone
else had heard. “Are you nuts?” he wheezed when he could talk. “That’s breaking
and entering. We could go to jail.”

She had obviously given it a lot
of thought. “Technically, it wouldn’t be’ breaking’ because we don’t intend to
steal anything and people in the  country still don’t lock their doors. Just
listen to my plan, please.” She gave him her most melting look. Alex covered
her mouth with her napkin so that Chris wouldn’t see her laughing. She’d seen
Alicia use that look with great success in the past.

Chris downed the rest of his
drink and motioned for the waitress to bring him another, then grunted, “Go
ahead, I’m listening.”

“O.K., tomorrow we drive out to
the Abbot house and park down the street. Then I call Alex on my cell and give
her the signal. She calls Jennifer, saying she’s from the police and asking her
to please go to the station as they have some things that need clarifying. Once
she drives away, we go to the house. Hopefully, there will be an unlocked door
we can get through and have a look around,” she finished, quite pleased with
her plan.

Chris looked from her to Alex who
merely shrugged and back to her. “And what exactly are we looking for?”

This was the weakest part of her
plan. “I don’t honestly know. Anything that would help us prove she killed her
husband.” The last was said in a whisper as the waitress brought Chris his
drink.

He took a long swallow. “And what
happens if we can’t find an unlocked door. Have you been taking lock-picking
lessons?” he asked sourly.

“Then we go home and try to find
another way to get in the house,” she said practically.

Chris took another long drink. “It’s
very risky. What if we’re seen?”

“I know it’s risky but do you
have a better idea? It was risky for us to search the APS office, but if we
hadn’t, we wouldn’t have found Marmalade and proven that Abbot was guilty.” He
couldn’t deny that. “And I just want this all to be over. I want us to be able
to get on with our lives without people thinking we’re murderers.” She couldn’t
decide whether to punch or kick something. Then she thought she really should
find an acceptable outlet for those aggressive impulses. Martial arts perhaps;
lots of kicking and punching there.

In the end, she did neither; she
just took a deep breath and waited for his decision.

He thought a moment and then,
surprisingly, turned to Alex. “I have the feeling that if I say no, she’ll go
ahead and do it without me. Am I right?” She nodded. “Then I guess I’ll have to
go along, if only to keep her out of trouble.” He looked at Alicia. “O.K., I’m
in.”

She reached across the table and
squeezed his hand.

“I’m in, too,” Alex said, “but
with one small change in the plan. I go with you. I can make the call from my
cell. You should have a look-out, just in case.”

Chris and Alicia both tried to
talk her out of it but in the end gave in. She could be just as stubborn as her
friend.

Chris picked the two girls up
mid-morning the next day in his black BMW, which was less conspicuous than the
scarlet Matrix. They had decided that would be the best time - those who were
going to work would be long gone, children would be in school, cleaners would
be busy cleaning and shoppers would be busy shopping.

Or so they hoped.

And it appeared they were right.
There was little traffic and no-one out on the street when they drove past the
Abbot house. They pulled up a few houses further on and parked facing away from
the house. Alex was in the back seat with her cell phone ready.

The relentless on-shore wind had
finally taken a breather and a gentle two inches of snow had fallen overnight.
Lawns, trees and roof-tops wore blankets, beards and toupees of glistening
white, filling even the most jaded of Dunbarton hearts with child-like wonder,
a feeling that would be replaced by something else entirely with the projected
fifteen inches that was promised over the next few days. Alicia was just
thankful that the snow was melting on the road and driveways. She didn’t want
them to leave any tell-tale footprints as a record of their little escapade in
house-breaking.

“Here, put these on.” She pulled
two pairs of latex gloves out of her pocket and handed one pair to Chris.

“What are these for?” he asked,
watching her put on the other pair.

“Fingerprints,” she replied. “I’m
never making that mistake again.”

Shaking his head, he said, “You
are into this way too much.”

She flashed him the cheeky grin
he loved. “Just put them on.”

The plan was simple. Alex would
call Jennifer Abbot, saying she was with the police. She would tell her that they
had a few loose ends to tie up in the statement she had given them and ask her
to go to the station. When they’d seen her drive off, Chris and Alicia would go
to the house and see if they could find a way in without actually breaking in.
Alex would keep watch, and if she saw anyone going to the house, would call
Alicia on her cell to warn them. It seemed simple and fool proof.

And it worked. Jennifer agreed to
go to the police station immediately and shortly thereafter the three watched
her get in her car.

“Gee, I feel just like Tommy and
Tuppence,” Alicia exclaimed excitedly, a little surprised at their success.

“Who are Tommy and Tuppence?”
Alex asked.

“They are a husband and wife
detective team. Well, they weren’t married when they started out, but later
they were, married I mean. Agatha Christie,” Alicia told her.

“I thought you wanted us to be
Nick and Nora,” Chris protested jokingly.

“Who are Nick and Nora?” Alex was
getting more and more confused by the turn the conversation had taken.

“Don’t you ever watch anything
that isn’t about horses? Nick and Nora Charles from the ‘Thin Man’ movies.
William Powell and Myrna Loy played a husband and wife who solved mysteries. He
was a police detective and she was an heiress. After they were married, he quit
the force to manage her business affairs but they were always getting involved
with murders. They drank lots of martinis and she wore beautiful clothes. But I
remembered that Nick never wanted Nora with him when he was detecting. He was
always locking her up in closets, but she’d get out and take Asta and follow
him.”

“Who’s Asta?” It wasn’t getting
any clearer.

“Tell her later,” Chris said. “Jennifer’s
almost out of sight.”

Once she was gone, Chris and
Alicia got out of the car and walked casually up the street to the house and up
the driveway, but instead of approaching the front door, they went quickly
around the side of the house, out of sight of the street. The patio doors at
the back of the house were locked but a side door that led to the mudroom wasn’t.

“I told you so!” Alicia gloated
triumphantly as they slipped inside.

“You were right,” Chris admitted.

“Wipe your feet well on the mat,”
she said following her own instructions. “We don’t want to leave puddles of
evidence.”

He complied and asked, “Now, what
are we looking for?”

“I don’t really know,” was her
unhelpful response. “Anything that would show a motive: papers that prove she
knew about her husband’s embezzlement and the kidnapping, signs that she might
be planning to skip town with the loot, blood-stained shoes. You know, stuff
like that,” she finished vaguely.

“Stuff like that,” he repeated. “That
gives me a really clear picture. No wonder Nick left Nora at home.”

“You look around down here and I’ll
check upstairs,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm.

“Be quick about it. It won’t take
her long to find out that no-one phoned her from the station.”

There wasn’t much to see
downstairs: no computer; no incriminating papers, like a convenient confession,
he thought. In fact, no papers of any kind, which was a bit odd. But perhaps
there was a study upstairs where the household documents were kept.

“Ali,” he called, using her
friend’s diminutive, “is there an office up there?”

She came running downstairs. “Yes,
with a paper shredder and a garbage bag full of shredded documents. And that’s
not all. She’s packing. Nice luggage. I think it’s Louis Vuitton.”

“Packing? Maybe she’s going on
vacation.”

“I don’t think so. It looks like
she’s taking everything. All that’s left in the closets is his stuff. I’ll bet she’s
skipping town with the rest of the money her husband stole. I think we should
warn the police.”

“I don’t think so,” a voice
behind them drawled.

Startled, they turned to see
Jennifer standing behind them and she was holding a large, wicked-looking ax.