Kitty Litter Killer (8 page)

Later, when we were all seated at the dining room table, the blessing said and the food passed, Ma glanced at me. “In all the. . .confusion today, I forgot. Jaylene came by the shop and told me you bought some things for a cat?” Sammie bounced in her chair. “I’m getting a kitten. Grandmother Cunningham is buying it for me.”

“What?” My mother stared at me. “I didn’t know about this. Trish? You aren’t that fond of cats—especially inside.”

“I know, but. . .”

“You let that woman—”

“I think it’s wonderful that Trish is doing this for Sammie,” Daddy said before Ma could finish her thought.

I met Max’s glance, and he winked at me. He knows how my mother feels about his mother, but she usually wasn’t so vocal in front of the children.

Ma realized what she’d almost done and had the grace to blush. “Well now, I suppose that’s a good thing. After all, Charlie’s got his snake.”

“After months of nagging,” I said.

Karen glared at her little brother. “He purposefully put the snake in my bed today.”

“I can’t help it that he fell off my shoulder,” Charlie said.

Karen glared at him. “Well, I hope Sammie’s cat eats your snake.”

Sammie’s eyes grew huge. “No! That’s not nice at all.”

“Karen,” Max said. “Don’t start, please.”

Karen and Charlie are always like water and oil. He knows just how to push her buttons to get her to react.

The normalcy of their bantering helped me to relax, although I was forcing myself to eat because I knew I needed to, despite my stomach’s protests. I felt Max’s gaze and looked up at him.

I love you, he mouthed.

We all ate in silence for a while, and then Ma put her fork down. “Well, did your daddy tell you that Buddy took sick last week? Vet says he’s not doing well. He mostly stays in the barn now. And we let him sleep in the house at night.”

That explained why Buddy hadn’t greeted me when I arrived.

“Gotta get another dog, I guess,” Daddy said. “I should do it before Buddy. . .” His voice trailed off.

“Does that mean he’s going to die?” Charlie never missed a thing.

“Yes,” Ma said. “And he’ll go to doggy heaven. Now would anyone like more mashed potatoes?”

I met Daddy’s gaze. He smiled at me, but his eyes were watering. He and Buddy were inseparable. I felt tears well up in my own eyes.

He saw them and reached across the table and patted my hand. “Buddy lived a good long life. It’s the cycle of things, Sugar Bug. You know that. For everything there is a season. A time to be born and a time to die.”

“I know.” I swallowed and thought about that. Buddy was old for a dog. And though it was sad, he’d lived out his full years. But what about Philip? His life had been cut short. Even though I hadn’t liked him for what he did to Abbie, I never would have wished him dead in a pool of blood on the ground.

After the kids left the table, the four adults sat and drank decaf coffee, pretending everything was normal. Max talked about Tommy at college. But my mind wasn’t on what anyone was saying. I kept thinking about Abbie.

“You know what’s weird?” I said during a lull in the conversation. “Jaylene said Henry knew that Philip was back in town. She was pretty nasty about Philip.”

“Doesn’t surprise me none,” Ma said. “The Adlers hated him.”

I glanced at her, surprised. “Why?”

Ma shrugged. “Not really sure, but you can start your investigation by talking to Jaylene.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Max’s head swivel toward me. I didn’t look at him, but I knew I’d hear about this later. Max didn’t want me to investigate any more than I wanted to.

“We can get this done fast,” Ma said. “That detective isn’t nearly as smart as she’d like to think. You wouldn’t believe the questions she asked me.”

Unfortunately, I thought the bulldog was a lot smarter than Ma gave her credit for. I just hoped she was smart enough to see that Abbie wasn’t guilty of murder.

Had I decided to investigate this? I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to pretend everything was okay and just let the police handle it. I thought about everything Ma had said. Abbie was my best friend. Closer than a sister. Did I have a choice?

Chapter Six

After a terse “We have to talk,” Max took the kids home so I could stop by Abbie’s apartment in town. She still wasn’t answering her phone. Ma sent several plates of food along with me, despite my arguments that Abbie wouldn’t be eating. When I pulled up, her car was there, parked along the street. She lived above a shop in downtown Four Oaks.

I sat in my SUV for a moment, gathering my emotions. Abbie and I were opposites. I was a fiery volcano. She was an icy mountain spring. She always held her counsel, maintaining rigid control of herself and everything in her life, even when she was falling apart inside. I tended to fly off all over the place. To act and speak before I thought.

But now I needed to temper myself. Be confident and strong for her and watch my tongue, even though I felt like coming apart.

Balancing my load of food, I walked up the stairs to her apartment and banged on her door.

“Abbie, I know you’re in there. I’ll use my key if you don’t answer.”

I heard her steps coming to the door, then the lock turning.

I expected her to look bad, but I tried not to gasp at her appearance. Abbie rarely let herself be seen without being perfectly made up. Mascara ran in dark trails from her bloodshot eyes down her white cheeks. The only other color on her face was her red nose and eyes. She motioned me in, turned, and walked to the couch, where she dropped into a corner and pulled a blanket around her shoulders. Only one lamp was on in the room. A small, decorative brass thing that only served to prove how dark the rest of the apartment was.

I held up the plates that my mother had sent. “Ma sent food. Do you want something?”

“I would throw up,” she said.

“That’s what I told Ma.” I turned on another light so I wouldn’t fall over anything. Abbie blinked but didn’t complain. She had a half-empty box of tissues next to her. The coffee table was littered with wadded, used tissues, but there was no sign of any kind of nourishment.

“I’ll put this away. And I’m making you some tea. Don’t argue.” I took the food to the kitchen and put it in the refrigerator. Then I put water in the teakettle and set it on the range.

While I waited, I straightened things up. The kitchen was as big a mess as Abbie. Another indication she was falling apart.

After the tea was made, I carried two cups to the living room, along with a trash bag. After putting the cups on the coffee table, I turned on another light. Then I gathered up all the used tissues. “This won’t do, you know,” I said. “You can’t sit here in the dark. You can’t let them get to you.”

I heard sniffling and turned to look at her. She was crying. “I—I just talked to June. Philip’s mother.”

“Oh, Abs. . .” I sat next to her and hugged her. “That’s brave of you.”

I felt her tears wet on my cheek and her body shaking. My tall, cool friend was trembling.

“The police think I did it,” she said. “That detective was so hostile. She questioned me for hours. So invasive. I feel violated. And I just wanted to tell June that I didn’t kill him.”

“Did she believe you?” I asked. I knew the two women had been in contact over the years.

“Yes.” Abbie sniffed. “I think so.”

“Good.” I held her more tightly, and for once, she let me. “I can’t even imagine how you feel. I’m so sorry. Have you talked to Eric?”

She hiccupped. “Yes, just for a minute. I told him I didn’t want to discuss things until he returns. This is a nightmare.”

I agreed, but I didn’t say that. I finally let her go and handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

She wanted to refuse, but I just glared at her. After a brief battle of wills, she took the cup.

“Max can find you a good lawyer,” I said.

Abbie’s lips trembled. “I don’t want to have to have a lawyer. When a suspect lawyers up, the cops see it as suspicious behavior.”

I shook my head. “They’re already looking at you with suspicion, remember?”

She swallowed. “It’s worse than you think,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes again, and her nose started running.

“Blow your nose and then tell me why.”

She obeyed and then took several deep, halting breaths. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Spit it out,” I said.

“Philip was there with me at the church. Maybe even right before he was killed.”

My vision went black, and I could only see Abbie through a tiny pinpoint. “With you?”

She nodded and started crying again. “That was the third time I’d seen him.”

My chest constricted.

“The first time was at my book signing at the festival. I was so mad he was there. I wouldn’t talk to him, and he finally left. In a big hurry. Today he ran into me at the Gas ’n’ Go. We argued. I—I was very angry. I left him there. After I arrived at the church, he showed up. That’s why I left and went to McDonald’s.”

“How did he know you were at the church? Did you tell him you were going there?”

She shook her head. “But the police know we were at the store together. They found a receipt in his pocket from the Gas ’n’ Go, so they went out there and looked at the security tapes. Our argument is there to see.” Her mouth twisted. “The thing is, I never saw him buy anything. But maybe he did after I left.”

I was having trouble breathing. She picked up her tea but was trembling too hard to drink any, so she put the cup back down.

“Remember how manipulative he used to be?” she asked. “How he always made me feel like he was right and I was wrong?”

“Yes. That used to make me feel so horrible for you.” I paused, wishing I could comfort her. “There’s no way they can say you did it, right? His shooting wasn’t close and personal.”

She clasped her hands so tightly, her knuckles were white. “Yes, they could say I did it. I was angry. I locked the door and left him standing in the front parking lot. He could have walked around back. There’s a road that skims around the church property. They could say I might have driven up there, stopped the car, and shot him.”

“With what?”

“My hunting rifle.”

I know my mouth fell open. “You have a hunting rifle?”

“Had,” she said. “I had one.”

“When?”

“When my grandmother died and left me everything, there were some guns in her stuff that had belonged to some of the men in her family.”

“Do you have them now?”

“No. I gave them to Philip when we were married. But they were listed in her will, and I was the sole beneficiary. And now he’s dead. With a shot from a rifle. What if it’s like one that I had?”

“How would the cops know that? Tell me you didn’t tell them?”

She closed her eyes and then opened them again. “Do you have any idea what that kind of interrogation is like? I didn’t. Even though I know cops. I’ve never been on that side of the table. By the time she was done with me, I was ready to admit anything just to be able to leave.” Fresh tears dripped down her face. “I’m so stupid.”

“I think you mean naive.” I leaned over and hugged her again then sat back. “So did Philip have his car with him?”

“Yeah,” she said. “A blue Honda.”

“Remember, there was no Honda in the parking lot when we were in the hall right before Ma found him.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I didn’t even think about that. Where was his car?”

“Down the road. Ma overheard the deputies talking about it.”

“That’s weird,” Abbie said.

I nodded. “Yes, it is. And did he have a copy of your book with him when you saw him?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s weird, too. I don’t know where that book came from.”

I thought it was strange, as well. “Hey, I talked to Eric tonight. He said he’s coming home tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She stared at me with glazed eyes. “I think we need to postpone the wedding. He disagrees.”

“I do, too,” I said. “We all finally convinced you to get married, and now you’re talking about postponing it?”

A tremulous grin crossed her lips, then it died, and she started crying again. “Trish, I can’t get married in a jail cell.”

“You aren’t going to jail.” I sat up straight. I knew without a doubt what I had to do. “I’m going to solve this mystery. I refuse to let them take you down.”

For a moment, I saw a glint of hope in her eyes. Then she blinked and shook her head violently. “No. I can’t let you. It’s too dangerous.”

“You can’t stop me.” I stood and went over to her desk and started rummaging for some paper and a pencil.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to take notes. And when I get home, I’m going to transfer them to a steno pad.” I whirled around to face her and waved the pen at her like a baton. “Start talking, Abbie. I want to know everything you can possibly remember.”

When I got home, Max met me in the kitchen. I dropped my purse on the table, feeling like I was a hundred years old. His expression was a mixture of concern and determination.

I wanted to avoid the discussion I knew we were gong to have. “How are the kids?”

“Karen is giving Chris a bath. Charlie is doing some homework. And Sammie is doing some kind of project in her room.”

“Good.”

“How is Abbie?” He began rubbing my shoulders. His way of softening me up before telling me he didn’t want me to investigate.

But his tender touch got to me, and the tough shell I’d portrayed to Abbie began to crack under his attention. I bit my lip to keep myself from blubbering.

“Honey?” He turned me around and stared into my eyes.

“Abbie’s not good. Not at all.” I disengaged myself from his grasp and went to the sink for a glass of water, just to have something to do so I wouldn’t fall apart. “I’m sorry you had to deal with the kids all evening. I know you have a lot going on. I’m just. . .”

“It’s fine. Really. I’m so sorry about Abbie. The timing is terrible.”

“Yes, it is.” I filled a glass, took a sip, and stared at the dark night through the window. “She’s talking about calling off the wedding.” Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn’t see. “The bad thing is, she might have to.”

“I can see why she’d say that,” he said. “The investigation might go on for a while.”

I whirled around. “Yes. I know that. But it’s worse than just that. Things don’t look good for her because she could have shot Philip.” The pitch of my voice kept rising. “He was there with her at the church. Alone.”

Shock rippled across his face. “Whew.”

“Yeah, whew,” I said.

“I’m serious about helping her find a good lawyer.” He leaned his hip against the counter. “I’m sorry to say this, but she might need one, given that fact. I’m sorry, baby.” He paused and studied me. “You’re not going to get involved. Right?”

I took a deep breath, stepped toward him, and met his gaze with my chin in the air. “Yes, I am. I’m going to at least try to solve this mystery.”

His nostrils flared. “I was hoping I’d misunderstood things at your mother’s. I thought you’d had it with solving mysteries.”

“I have—last time scared me so bad. But this is Abbie we’re talking about.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t like it. Let the police do their job.”

“You’re the one who just said it sounded like she might actually need that lawyer. I’ve got to find out what happened. That detective is. . .well, awful.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “It terrifies me.” After he took a couple of deep breaths, he shook his head. “No. I can’t agree to it. I just have a feeling about this.”

I did, too, and it scared me. I blinked back tears, turned away from him, and leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the refrigerator. “You didn’t see her, Max. You know how Abbie is. Tall. Cool. Always perfect. She was crumpled up in a ball in the corner of her couch.” I started to cry. “That detective ripped her to shreds.”

I heard his steps cross the kitchen floor, and he wrapped his arms around me. I leaned back against his chest.

“What if his murder had nothing to do with anyone around here?” Max asked. “What if it had to do with his job? Some kind of drug dealer or something. What then?”

“Then it will be obvious real soon, won’t it?” I pulled away from his grasp and turned around. “The killer would have to be a stranger. How many strangers come into town unnoticed? I could find that out easily enough.”