Kitty Litter Killer (11 page)

She knew what I was going to say and didn’t want to hear it. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I felt bad about the issues between the two women.

Linda had finished talking and wiping tables and was back behind the counter, where she put her rag on the edge of the sink. Then she joined April May, whose mouth was clamped tightly shut. The atmosphere in Doris’s Doughnuts was tense today. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was Linda.

“You need any help?” Linda asked April with a bright smile on her face—the same one she always used in the hospital emergency room. Was she even aware of how April felt? I remembered what April had said about Linda living in a different dimension.

April gave Linda a sidelong glance then handed her an order form. “Finish this. It’s for table three.” Then she laid down her knife, wiped her hands, snatched the rag from the sink, and went to bus tables.

Linda stared wide-eyed at April’s back, then she began to make the sandwiches. She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked up. “Doris says your friend is a suspect in Philip Grenville’s murder.”

“‘Person of interest’ would be a better term. But then, so am I, and so is my mother. And probably any number of other people.”

“I watch those shows on television, and you know what they say. Usually the spouse is the one who’s guilty.”

April May glanced at me from a table she was cleaning and rolled her eyes. I could pretty safely say she’d joined Gail’s “I Don’t Like Linda” club.

“Abbie and Philip were divorced a long time ago,” I said. “She wasn’t his spouse.”

Linda leaned toward me. “I saw her signing books at the fall festival. I bought one from her. I’ve heard some things. I was talking to your mother about it this morning.”

“Like what?” I asked.

Her gaze shifted. “I don’t want to spread gossip.”

Like I believed that. I remembered her big mouth when she worked at the hospital. I’d let her play hard to get. I knew from experience that the best way to get someone to give up a piece of information is to feign disinterest.

“I understand how you feel,” I said. “I don’t blame you at all for not talking about it.” I turned my attention to the bulletin board, where I saw a business card advertising Hayley’s purebred Siamese cats.

“People say that Philip was holding something over Abbie,” Linda said.

My ruse worked. I barely avoided smiling when I turned back to her. “Like what?”

“I saw them at the festival. They argued. I think he knew some secret about her or something. And because she was making it big with her latest book, he came back to bribe her with something that would ruin her career. Or maybe destroy her new relationship with that detective.”

“Like what kind of secret?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe something about why they broke up.”

“Oh.”

She nodded sagely as though she knew all, then she went back to making sandwiches.

“Does Hayley Whitmore come in here for coffee?” I asked whoever was listening. For some reason, thoughts of her haunted me. I suspected, but didn’t want to admit to myself, that my curiosity stemmed from the fact that Hayley was near my age and very close to my mother-in-law.

“Yeah,” April said. “Like twice a week. She says we make her laugh.”

Along with me, my mother and her cohorts were amusing to Hayley. I wondered if she and Angelica made fun of all of us while they sipped iced tea at the country club.

Ma returned with a key dangling between her fingers. “Here you go. The key to the church hall. I’ll need it back, but I’m glad you’re doing this. Visiting the murder scene. What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced around the full shop. Coming here had been stupid. At this point, anyone could have murdered Philip. I didn’t need my plans advertised. Of course, Ma would advertise them anyway. I needed to be careful what I told her.

“Well now, that’s not smart. You need a plan.” Ma frowned. “You need to look for evidence. Like in the corners of things. Somebody was out there before we got there. Somebody killed Philip, and it wasn’t Abbie, even though, heaven knows, she had every reason to. Especially if he was threatening her.”

“Ma, you don’t know that. And I’m sure the police have gathered all the evidence there is to gather.”

“Police.” She made a rude sound. “Well, why else was Philip there if he wasn’t threatening her? What in the world was he doing back in Four Oaks?”

That was the question I intended to answer. And I hoped I could do it before my mother inadvertently convinced the whole town that Abbie had offed Philip.

Chapter Eight

My next stop was to see Eric. When I walked through the doors at the sheriff ’s office, I felt a tremor of apprehension as I recalled my interview the night before with Detective Reid. The fact that I was here again on my own accord was a testimony to my love for my best friend.

The girl behind a wall of bulletproof glass at the front desk called Eric and then told me to have a seat. Shortly after that, a deputy came to escort me and buzzed me through a locked door. When we reached Eric’s office, he was sitting at his desk. Pain so twisted his face, I felt like a voyeur looking at him.

“Sir?” the deputy said.

Eric glanced up and grimaced with what was probably supposed to be a smile. “Trish. Please come in.”

“Hey,” I said as I dropped into a chair in front of his desk. The deputy shut the door.

I noticed some new pictures displayed on his credenza. His and Abbie’s engagement pictures. He, Abbie, and his daughter, Sherry, were all grinning broadly. My heart ached.

“Have you talked to Sherry?” I asked.

He drew a deep breath. “I’d planned to call her as soon as I talked to you. I don’t want her to hear about this before I tell her. This is the end of her first college term. I hate that it might affect her exams.”

“It’s going to be hard on her,” I said. “She’ll be frantic with worry.”

“I know,” he said softly. “She’s so excited I’m marrying Abbie.”

I leaned forward and put my elbows on his desk. “You wanted to talk to me?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Before we start, can you tell me if Philip’s death is a murder?” I asked.

“Suspicious,” he said.

“But that’s always the way it is, right?” I asked. “With an unexpected violent death like this?”

“Yes.” He brushed his fingers through his hair.

“Detective Reid is not on my top-ten list of people to invite to Christmas dinner.”

One side of his mouth quirked. “A number of people feel that way.”

“So Corporal Fletcher said the state police are involved to avoid conflict of interest. I’m not sure that makes sense to me, but I understand what it means.”

He sighed. “It’s just to keep things from being muddled. If we investigate, Abbie might be given some sort of preferential treatment, and important evidence could be overlooked.”

“Why is preferential treatment a big deal? Especially when we both know she didn’t do it?”

“A suspect could get off in court if a lawyer can prove we didn’t handle an investigation correctly.”

“Are all the state police people as friendly as Detective Reid? Do you know any of them?”

“I know some of them,” he said. “And friendly? Define friendly.”

“That’s a good point,” I said. “They are, after all, cops.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Surface friendly, but underneath you’re suspicious of everyone. Always looking for bad guys. You’re out to nail our hides to the wall.”

That made him smile. “Yes and no. We’re trained to observe. We can’t afford blanket trust in people. And in suspicious circumstances, we have to look at everyone involved as a person of interest. Our jobs make us that way. If you were lied to as much as we are, you’d be the same.” He paused. “Besides, we’re not all just surface friendly. Look at me. Look at Fletcher.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, Eric. I remember when I first met you.”

“Well, at first, you were a person of interest in a murder case. You wouldn’t expect me to be friendly.” He eyed me with a slight smile. “And you—”

“Didn’t tell you the whole truth. I know.” My face grew warm. “But I didn’t lie, either. I just avoided the truth.”

“See?”

“Yeah, well, whatever.” I didn’t like to remember that I had tried to deceive Eric during Jim Bob’s murder investigation. “Anyway, I don’t like the way this is going at all.” I tap-danced my fingers on the chair arms. “The state police people aren’t going to care about Abbie.”

He smiled grimly. “That’s the whole point of having them investigate.”

“Will they question all of us again?”

“No doubt,” he said.

“So what’s the procedure for something like this?” I asked. “How long do they investigate at the scene?”

He eyed me. “In this case, I assume they were back there first thing this morning, but I. . . They aren’t talking to me about it. It’s a tough scene, though. The shooter was way off in the woods. They had to comb the whole area.”

“Do you think they’re done now?”

He glanced at his watch. “I imagine. They were getting a lot of pressure from the church people because there’s some big event coming up, and they need the building.”

“Yeah. It’s a ladies’ holiday tea.”

He nodded. “That’s right.” Then he suddenly squinted at me. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “Just curious. So what did you want to talk about?”

“Abbie,” he said.

“I sort of figured.” I settled back in the chair and crossed my legs. “What do you want to discuss about her?”

He met my gaze with tired eyes. “She’s withdrawn. She’s talking about canceling the wedding. I don’t know what to do because she won’t talk to me. Is she talking to you?”

“In dibs and dabs, but probably a little more than she’s talking to you.”

“That wouldn’t be hard,” he said dryly.

“Her reaction doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “She’s always been that way. When she’s in pain, she withdraws.”

“It’s killing me. I need her to talk to me.” I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. “Does she think she’s the only one this is impacting?”

I shook my head. “No. Not at all. And that’s why she’s withdrawn. She’s worried she’s going to affect your career. And I think underneath, she’s worried that you’re mad.”

“Well, truthfully, I am.” He stood and paced the length of his desk. “Why couldn’t she have told me that Philip had contacted her? I look like an idiot.” He stopped and inhaled then met my gaze. “I’m not allowed to have any part in this investigation. I don’t know much of what’s going on, and she won’t even confide in me. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“Yes, I can imagine.” I thought of all the times he hadn’t answered my questions. I could be childish and point that out, but instead, I felt compassion for him.

Eric dropped into his chair, grabbed a pen, and started tapping it on the desktop. A vein in his temple pulsed. He was much more worried than he was letting on.

“So you don’t know why Philip was in town, then?” I asked.

His gaze slid over me, then to his desk, then back to me. “I don’t know why he was in town, but. . .I did know he was here.”

I grasped the arms of my chair. “You did? And you didn’t tell Abbie? Eric, what’s the difference between you not telling her and her not telling you?”

“Plenty,” he said. “For one thing, he wasn’t hounding me.”

I had to give him that. “Do you know what he was doing?”

“Well, I knew he had been visiting his mother. He did that periodically. And I always kept track of him because I didn’t want him bugging Abbie. We usually talked about our investigations. Like I told him, I’d recently been assigned to work with Narcotics on a special case.” Eric stopped and drew in a deep breath. “Trish, you have to understand that I was concerned about him. I wanted to protect Abbie, but I was still concerned about Philip. That’s why I kept in contact with him. I wanted more than anything for him to get his life straightened out.”

“I understand,” I said softly.

“The strange thing is, he called me and left a message the day he was shot. Just said he wanted to talk to me—had something to tell me.” Eric tapped his pen harder. “I was in a class, but I wish I’d answered. Maybe he wouldn’t have died.”

“When did he call you?” I asked.

“Based on everything I know now, about an hour before he was shot.”

I made a mental note about that because the timing was curious. “I know he moved to New York City. Has he been there all this time?”

Eric nodded. “Yes. He was working for the NYPD. He did pretty well. Moved up the ladder. Worked as a detective and in Narcotics. Made lieutenant. Never married again, just had a string of girlfriends.”

Eric sighed. “You know he was a good friend when we were in the academy together, right?”

I nodded.

“He was a fellow officer. There’s something about that. A camaraderie that I can’t explain.” Eric’s eyes boring into mine seemed to beg me to understand, then he looked away. “When he was first married to Abbie, things were fine. But after a while, I began to realize things weren’t right. Eventually I saw what he was doing with other women.” He rubbed the skin between his eyebrows. “She came to me and tried to talk to me about some things. I blew her off. He was my friend. A fellow cop. A brother of sorts. That hurt her bad.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m just glad she got over it and is giving you a chance now. Neither one of you is the same person you were back then.”

“Yes.” For a moment, his face brightened, and then the light died.

I decided a change of subject would be good. “Philip’s timing in being here is interesting, don’t you think?”

Eric’s eyes focused on me again. “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘interesting’ is the best choice of words, given how things have turned out. More like disturbing.”

“There has to be a reason he was here,” I said. “I just wish Abbie had me or Daddy with her when Philip first approached her. We could have helped.”

“I wish she had, too. Things might have been different.” He glanced at the desk then up at me. “Do you know something I don’t know about Abbie? A secret reason she could have had to murder Philip? Or have him murdered?”

“What?” I shot forward in my chair. “Do you mean you think she did it?”

“No!” He stretched out his right hand as if he were directing traffic and telling me to stop. “Please, Trish. I know her better than that. But she is very deep. I know there are layers in her that I haven’t begun to see. I just don’t want something coming to light that will hurt her.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want someone else discovering something.”

“Like the bulldog, you mean?” I took a deep breath. “You want me to look into things?”

He met my gaze with wide eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

A brief surge of irritation washed over me. “Do I look like I’m kidding? This is a serious conversation, is it not?”

“Yes, it is a serious conversation, and no, you don’t look like you’re kidding. I was being facetious. I know perfectly well how you are. In fact, you’re probably already looking into things. That’s why you wanted to know about the crime scene.”

I felt warmth on my cheeks.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked. “And you have one of those notebooks in your purse, don’t you?”

Body language plays a big part in police interrogation and interviewing. Mine gave me up.

“You do,” he said. “Admit it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Trish, you need to stay out of this.” He shifted in his chair and it creaked. “For a number of reasons.”

I shook my head. “My best friend is a suspect. I can’t let this go.”

“I’m asking you to. She’ll be fine.” Even as he said it, I could tell he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

I felt angry all over again when I thought of Abbie huddled on her couch, crying. “You weren’t there after she was interviewed. You didn’t see the shape she was in.” I described how I found her the night before.

Eric blinked. “She never told me that.”

“Well, of course she didn’t. She doesn’t want to worry you.” I placed my hands on his desk. “I know I can do this.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I know you can, too, but there’s so much at stake. Your getting involved could make a messy situation messier—not to mention being dangerous for you.”

I wasn’t going to press the point. I already knew what I was going to do. And I wondered before all this ended if Eric might welcome my help.

His phone rang.

“Excuse me,” he said. After a few uh-huhs and glances at me, he put the phone down. “Detective Reid would like to see you. She’s here in the building, and she’s sending someone to get you.”

“How did she know I was here?”

“The walls have eyes.” A grim smile passed over his face. “I think I’m going to need to watch my step.”