Fat Cat Spreads Out (4 page)

“E
lsa said she went to find her husband, Larry—” Anna began.

Julie interrupted. “Larry Oake, the famous butter sculptor?”

Anna turned to her granddaughter. “What do you know about butter sculptors?”

“I've been reading up on the featured exhibits.” She glanced at Jay.

Chase sensed a chemistry between the two that was a few degrees warmer and cozier than it would be between business associates. Jay and Julie had attended law school together. He was a criminal defense lawyer, while she worked for the district attorney, prosecuting criminals. Chase wondered how that was going to work out.

“Oake is well known in the world of butter sculpture,” Julie went on. “He was sent a special invitation to attend and participate in the Minnesota Symbol Contest.”

“Okay,” Chase said. “First of all, there is a ‘world of butter sculpture'? Second, what is the Minnesota Symbol Contest?”

“Bunyan County,” Jay said, “always holds a contest to see who can carve the best butter sculpture. We don't carve butter cows, though. Butter cows are a standard in the butter sculpting world, but we like to do it differently. This year we're asking the artists to re-create a state symbol in butter.”

“How big is this butter sculpting world?” Chase shook her head. “I can't believe it's a well-known . . . art? Craft? Hobby?”

“Right the first time,” said Jay. “It's an ancient art that began with Tibetan monks.”

“You're not serious.” Anna gave Jay a stern look. The look of a grandmother who does not like to be lied to.

“He's right, Grandma. Jay's told me all about it. Butter sculpture goes back to the times of Babylon and Rome. The Tibetan monks have done butter sculptures for Tibetan New Year for hundreds of years.”

“Well, I guess it's cold enough there for it to keep,” Anna said. “It's a shame this isn't in history books. It would make history a much more fun subject.”

“Anyway,” Julie continued, “we invited Larry Oake specially.”

“‘We'?” asked Chase.

“I've been helping with the fair. I hate to think of him being murdered just because he came here.”

“Where's he from?” Chase asked.

“Not far. Wisconsin.” Jay tipped his mug up and drained it.

“More cocoa?” Chase jumped up to take his cup.

“No, we'd better be going.” He and Julie exchanged an unmistakable look and stood up.

Yes, Chase thought, definitely warm and cozy. Maybe even smoke and fire.

“Wait a minute,” Chase said. “I want to know if Jay could get Mike out of jail, if that's where he is.”

Jay turned serious, all business. “What do you know?” he asked.

“Just that they took him away and Detective Olson was there and Mike's not answering his cell phone.”

“I'll make some calls. I can't promise anything, but I'll see if there's something I can do. I'm busy on another case with the firm, but I'm sure I can at least find out what his situation is.”

Chase felt her shoulders relax a notch. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thanks so much.”

After they left, Chase poured herself a second cup of cocoa, leaving the marshmallows off this time. Besides, there were some wisps clinging to her cup that would melt in nicely. “Did Larry's wife—Elsa?—give you any more details about what happened?”

“Yes, Elsa Oake. We got sidetracked by those two and their butter sculpture history, didn't we?” Anna gazed into her cup.

“Oh, you're empty. Do you want a refill?”

“No thanks, Charity.” Anna hesitated, setting her mug
aside and rubbing Quincy's right ear. “Elsa told me everything she saw, and it's not good. She was supposed to meet her husband at the food trailers for an early lunch. He'd been doing some preliminary work on his sculpture in the morning.”

“And he didn't show up, I'm guessing.”

“Right. So she went looking for him. She said she opened the door to the butter room and saw her husband on the floor. When she called her husband's name, Dr. Ramos blocked her way. That's when she screamed.”

“He probably didn't want her to see a dead body.” Mike was a considerate person. She could easily picture him shielding the poor woman from the grisly sight.

“I think that's probably the case. But she thinks he was keeping her from trying to revive him. So, naturally, she thinks Mike killed him.”

“What was Mike doing in there, anyway?” Could he have been looking for Quincy? Maybe he saw the cat sneak in with someone else?

Anna looked down at her lap and poked Quincy's substantial tummy with her forefinger. “Elsa said this guy was on the table, next to the sculpture.”

“Devouring it, I suppose. It looked like Quince had butter on his whiskers when that policewoman handed him to me.”

“Elsa was bothered by what she saw. She said her husband had a butter sculpture dowel poking out of his ear. She told me how horrible the trickle of red blood was against his brown skin. She can't get the image out of her mind.”

Chase winced. “How awful.”

“Maybe Jay Wright can find out about everything and can get Dr. Ramos home,” Anna said.

“I'll bet he can.” She remembered her tearful relief in Jay's car after he had gotten her out of that terrible interrogation room in September. She hoped Mike was in one of those, dismal as they were, instead of in a jail cell. “I have a feeling Mike is going to need a lawyer. I wonder what Jay will charge him.”

“He didn't charge you, did he?”

“No, but Mike might need more services than I did. And Mike isn't best friends with Jay's girlfriend.” Chase was sure Mike had gone into the building to get Quincy. But how had Quincy gotten inside? Someone must have opened the door for him. Would that have been Larry or someone else?

Chase sighed. This wasn't the first time Quincy had gone looking for food and found trouble. Why did her cat have a talent for discovering dead bodies?

After Anna left, Chase unpacked the satchel she'd carried to the fair. Along with the parking instructions for exhibitors, and the receipt for the booth, she found the pamphlet from the pet chip place. She leafed through it, deciding that Quincy needed a microchip. However, that would only help find his owner once someone located him. What he really needed was a GPS transmitter. She wondered if they made those for cats.

She picked up the phone and called the direct line to Detective Niles Olson's desk. She'd acquired his number earlier in the year when she'd been a suspect in a murder in the Dinkytown neighborhood. That was the first time
Quincy was found next to a dead body. He had been eating the dinner the man had been preparing.

“Chase?” He'd seen her caller ID. He didn't sound irritated. That was a good start.

“Hi. Could you tell me . . . I, uh, I need to know what's going on with Dr. Mike Ramos.”

“Why do you need to know that?”

“Okay, I
want
to know. He's a friend. I saw him being taken away in a police car at the fair. Is he arrested?”

“We're questioning him.”

“He's been there for a long time. Does someone think he killed that sculptor?”

“How do you know who the victim was? We haven't released a statement.”

“Anna talked to his wife—his widow. She said something was sticking out of his ear. Some kind of dowel?”

Niles Olson expelled his exasperation into the phone. “It was a butter sculpture dowel. It's a pointed metal tool, about the size of a nail file. I'm told it's for making small round holes in the butter. I shouldn't tell you that, but Elsa already told Anna all about the crime scene, didn't she?”

“Yes. Was there a reason she shouldn't? Oh, I know! You don't think Mike is really the killer and you want to withhold what you know from the murderer. Am I right? You think Mike didn't kill that poor man?”

“No comment.”

“He was in there to get Quincy, I'm sure.” She twirled a strand of her hair between two fingers.

“Your cat again. Why would you let him run around the fairgrounds?”

“I didn't
let
him!”

“Let me guess. He got loose.”

“We didn't even know he was there with us. We thought he was back at Bar None. He stowed away in our basket.”

“Don't bring him to the fair again.”

Chase hung up without telling the detective that Jay Wright was on the case. Or that she and Anna planned on bringing Quincy to the fair every day for the rest of the week.

*   *   *

The next morning,
Chase, still in her bathrobe, ran outside to the front sidewalk to get pictures of the Bar None's exterior. Then she whipped inside, turned all the lights on, and snapped some more. She didn't know if Tanner would want to show the kitchen, but she took some shots of it as well and e-mailed them to him.

Then she got ready to return to the fair. It was the opening day. After pulling on her best pair of jeans and donning a soft purple sweater that looked good with the suede jacket she would take to wear that evening, she slipped on the silver-and-turquoise ring Anna had given her for her last birthday. She didn't wear it often, since it was a teensy bit too large and tended to slip off. Today, she wanted to wear something comforting to keep her mind from dwelling on Mike every second. He still wasn't answering his phone. She couldn't get Julie either, and she didn't have Jay's number.

What she really wanted to do was talk to Mike and
see how he was holding up and if he had actually been charged. She still didn't even know, though, if he was in jail or at home. Or what she would do if he did want her to help him out. Or why a ring should make her think of him. She decided she had to try Julie again. She was going to worry herself crazy if she didn't get hold of her.

“Chase! Mike is in the news today. They're definitely saying he was held for questioning in the death of Larry Oake.”

“That's what I called about. Did Jay have any luck last night?” Chase twirled the ring around on her finger.

“He got him out early this morning, but Mike is on the radar for the murder. He was questioned for a long, long time, Jay said. Do you think there is any way he could have killed that man?”

“No! He was retrieving Quincy. Quincy had gotten into the exhibit and was after the butter.”

Julie groaned. “That doesn't necessarily mean that Mike didn't also kill the guy. But I can't imagine him doing that.”

“Why would he kill him? He didn't know the victim. Oake is from Wisconsin, you said.”

“He is. But his wife is from Minneapolis. He's probably been here a lot.”

“So, what does Jay say? Anything?” The turquoise ring slipped past her knuckle and she pushed it back on.

“Just that he stayed there until they let Mike go. And he drove him home. The only information he has is what Mike told him. Jay isn't sure he can take the case himself, but he will find him a good lawyer, don't worry.”

“Maybe he won't need a lawyer. We don't know that he's been formally accused, do we? What do you mean by saying Mike is on the radar?”

“That probably means they don't have any other suspects right now, Chase. The morning news reported his name as a person of interest, but Jay says he hasn't been charged.”

Yet, Chase thought glumly. Mike was not off the hook, and things weren't looking good.

T
anner texted Chase on her way to the fair, saying the pictures were “dope” and he could totally use them. When she got there, lugging Quincy along in his crate, Anna was already at their booth and it looked about ready to go. A short woman with frizzy bleached hair was leaving as Chase was approaching.

“Who's that?” Chase asked.

“You'll never guess. It's Jay Wright's aunt! He told her where our booth would be and she stopped in to say hi.”

“Oh, right. He said she's one of the organizers. I'll have to meet her the next time she stops by.”

“Right now you can arrange the basket and these fliers.”

The ginger-striped cat fidgeted in the confines of his hard-sided crate. Usually, he settled in and stayed still for journeys that took place in the car, but this time the memory of all that butter taunted him. He could smell that he was in the same place as yesterday, the place with the butter. After his crate was shoved under the table, leaving him in dusky darkness, he started working at the latch. He hadn't conquered this new one. Yet.

The kiddie rides were in full swing. Each one had its own music, creating a merry cacophony in the background for those on the midway.

The presence of armed police officers roaming the midway was a sober reminder that a serious crime had been committed. It took some of the shine off the fair, but seemingly hadn't hurt attendance.

“Did you see the news this morning?” Chase asked.

“No,” Anna said slowly. “Is there something bad in it? About Mike?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. Julie said he's not being accused of the murder. But the paper called him a person of interest.”

“Oh dear. But Jay did get him out?”

“Jay stayed until they let Mike go. I don't know if he's here yet or not. What's happening over there?” Chase noticed a commotion down the midway.

“It's the parade. The official opening of the fair. We'd better stay put while it passes.”

The fair opened with a procession down the midway. A team of horses led the way, pulling Miss Bunyan County in an ornate carriage. The local Shriners drove their silly little bikes, and a Boy Scout troop marched past, somewhat in precision. Next came the Girl Scouts, tossing hard candies and waving. In the distance a high school band could be heard getting louder as it got closer.

“That's going to scare Quincy,” Anna said. “All those trumpets and trombones.”

“And drums. Should I throw a blanket over his crate?” asked Chase.

“He's not a bird. Maybe we should get him out and hold him.”

“Definitely not. He'll bolt. It'll be okay. He'll live.”

Anna raised the skirt of the table to peek in on him. His amber eyes stared back, wide and frightened. Anna dropped the skirt, shaking her head.

“I'll take his cage out in back of the booths,” Chase said, relenting. He had probably never been this close to so much noise. It was bound to have a bad effect on him. “It'll be quieter there. Just until the parade passes.”

Chase pulled the crate out and hefted it up. This hard-sided cage was heavier than the soft cloth one she had used before. But Quincy had proven he was able to get out of that one without much trouble. It zipped shut, and the zipper was easy for him to open by hooking a claw in the pull if it was left even the teensiest bit agape. Or sometimes, Chase swore, even if it wasn't.

She lugged the carrier between the Bar None booth
and the next one, still empty this morning, and set Quincy down on the dirt. The organizers had left aisles between every other booth, using common walls for the booths that were joined together. The Bar None booth was connected to one rented by a travel agency.

A large maple with blazing red leaves shaded the area behind the booths. Chase leaned against the rough, solid trunk to wait for the boisterous parade to end.

Voices came from past the travel agents' booth, which was operated by two women, a short redhead and a tall blonde. The next booth down the line was the fortune-teller's.

A conversation from behind the fortune-telling booth floated to Chase, over the sounds of the parade and the band, which was still approaching.

“Yes, Grandpapa. I know I shouldn't have taken it.” Chase heard a low-pitched woman's voice. “But I wanted so much to try it on Princess Puffball before the Fancy Cat Contest. Just to see what it would look like if she wins.”

Chase's ears perked at the words “cat contest.”

A man's voice spoke too softly for Chase to hear.

“No, I told you. I don't know where it is. I haven't been able to find it yet. I'll put it back in the exhibit as soon as I find it, I promise.”

The band drew nigh and drowned out the conversation. When it had passed, Chase leaned out and looked around to see who the speakers were. Only one remained: the fortune-teller herself. That is, the person Chase assumed was the fortune-teller. At any rate, she was the young
woman who had been at that tent earlier with Mike and Mike's aunt Betsy. She must have a cat. Princess Puffball? And she had taken something and lost it.

Chase wanted to know more about the Fancy Cat Contest. Mike had mentioned it, and this woman seemed to have an entrant. Should Chase enter Quincy?

After the parade passed, she returned Quincy, in his crate, to his place under the table of their booth. A colorful pamphlet with pictures of sleek cats on it lay on their exhibit table.

“What's this?” Chase asked.

“Some woman in a business suit was tossing them out during the parade. She's with a pet food company. I think they're sponsoring something here.”

Quincy gave an irritated
mrow
from his crate. He clearly wanted out of it. Maybe the fortune-teller/cat owner would know where to exercise a cat here at the fair.

“Do you want anything from the food carts, Anna?”

“I'd like something cold to drink.”

The day was sunny and beautiful. Chase was warm in her sweater, and thirsty, too. “I'll get us some lemonade. I want to stop and talk to the fortune-teller on the way.”

Anna raised her eyebrows.

“She's entering a cat in a contest here. I want to know more about it.”

“You're thinking of entering Quincy in a contest?”

“Fancy Cat Contest.”

“Quincy is lovely and adorable, but I'm not sure he's fancy.”

“Anyway, I'll ask her about it. If she has a cat here,
maybe she knows where to exercise them, too. There must be several cats if a contest is being held.”

The entrance to the fortune-teller booth was hung in purple gauze that glittered with silver stars and half moons. One swath was pinned back, leaving a narrow entrance. Chase peeked inside, then stepped into the tent. The young woman sat behind her display table, which was draped in more of the same material. It was dark inside, lit only by several electric candles and a glowing globe that sat in front of her. Chase blinked to adjust her eyes to the dimness. She also sniffed. Something gave off a pleasant scent of lavender.

“Welcome. I am Madame Divine.” The woman spoke in a creepy low voice. “Step closer. Have a seat and give me your palm.” She stood to take Chase's hands and drew her into a seat. She wore a caftan made from more of the purple gauze, and her shoulder-length black curls were tucked into a gold turban. Her deep purple nail polish shone in the soft light from the globe, which was her crystal ball, Chase surmised.

“Oh, hi. Chase Oliver. Our booth is right over there. The Bar None.” She pointed her head in that direction, since Madame Divine had both her hands. “I don't really want my fortune told. I just heard you talking about a Fancy Cat Contest and wanted to ask you about that.”

Madame Divine frowned. “What did you hear? Where?” Her natural timbre was rather low, but the spooky voice was gone.

“I didn't mean to overhear. I took my cat behind our
booth to get him away from the noise of the parade. It was scaring him. Most of what you were saying was drowned out by the marching band, but I did hear you mention the contest.”

Her frown lessened. “Ah. Well, yes. I'm entering my cat, Puffy.” Princess Puffball, Chase remembered.

“How would I enter mine?” Chase put her hands on the round table between her and the fortune-teller.

“Have you read the brochure about the fair?”

“Not yet.” It was probably the pamphlet she had seen on their table.

“The entry form is in there.” Madame Divine reached for Chase's hands again.

Chase looked around for a cat. A shelf to one side held fortune-telling books, tarot cards, and Ouija boards for sale. “Is your cat here?” She extracted her hands and folded them in her lap, where Madame Divine couldn't reach them.

“Not today. The contest isn't until the end of the fair, on next Sunday.”

“Oh. I have to bring Quincy here every day, and I was wondering if there was a pen or a big cage where he could get some exercise.”

“There might be. You should talk to the contact person. Daisy something-or-other.”

Chase rose. “Thanks, Ms. Divine. I'll look her up.”

“Madame Divine is just my stage name. I'm really Patrice Youngren. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out for Chase to shake. Her hands were clad in lace
fingerless gloves and she wore rings on almost every finger. Chase gripped the gloved hand and wondered if she wore gloves because she wanted to prevent others from reading her palms. Patrice shook with one hand and put the other on top of Chase's. It was an oddly intimate gesture.

“I guess you know Mike Ramos?” Patrice asked. “I heard you talking to him yesterday.”

“Yes, he's our vet.”

Patrice nodded and Chase got the feeling she was being dismissed.

“Do you know him?”

Patrice nodded again without offering anything further.

Chase persisted anyway, curious now about the conversation she'd overheard. “I heard you say you've lost something. Is it anything I can help look for?”

A fleeting look of panic widened Patrice's brown eyes but was gone in a flash. “No, thank you.”

That cold tone was definitely a dismissal. Chase gave her a smile. “I'll see you around.”

For a moment, as she walked through the sawdust, she wondered why “Seventy-six Trombones” from
The Music Man
was running through her head. Then she remembered that the marching band had played it when they'd gone past.

As Chase reached the lemonade stand, she spotted Mike leaving with an extra-large cup.

“Why aren't you answering your phone? I've been so worried.”

“Chase, thanks for sending Jay Wright to help me out.
I was trying to figure out who to call.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “I've turned my phone off because I'm getting so many calls from reporters. And some from crackpots.”

“Well, I'm relieved to see you here,” she said. “I didn't know if you would make it or not.”

“Jay said there wasn't enough evidence to keep me, even though I'm their best suspect. They asked me a few questions then they locked me in a cell with some scary types. Then they brought me out and questioned me for hours more. I'm glad to be out of there.”

“They really think you could have killed Mr. Oake?”

“I wasn't charged with anything. That was a surprise to me after all the questioning. Detective Olson acted like he wanted me to confess, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking.”

“Yes, I've had experience with that. Well, I'm glad you're here.” He still held her hand and she squeezed his, then dropped it. “By the way, I just met Patrice Youngren. She knows you?”

“She sure does.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, Chase, I'll talk later. I need to be at the vet station now. I was late getting here.”

Mike hurried away. He hadn't really answered all of her questions. At least not the way Chase wanted them answered.

Julie showed up late in the morning. “Need some help?”