“I was in my room.” She pointed at the ceiling with her knife. “Way up on the top. I hear nothing.”
“Did it surprise you that Ritaestelle left like that, so late?” Tom said. “And not exactly dressed to go visiting?”
Hildie smiled at him again. “You’re a funny man. Not exactly dressed. I like that. Was I surprised? I think yes. But she was worried. She was sick. I would run away myself if someone was hurting me that way.”
“Do you have any clue who might have been hurting your lady?” I said.
“I don’t know much. I stay here most of the time. But I know why she came to you.” She scooped up her cubed mangoes and tossed them into a stainless bowl. Then she went to the sink and returned with a colander filled with strawberries and blueberries. She added them to the bowl.
“Why did she come to me?” I said.
Hildie walked over to the rack and returned with two limes and a squeeze bottle of honey. She rolled a lime on the counter. “What I see about you now? Or what I knew then?” she said.
“What you knew then,” I said, watching her quickly cut the lime in half and squeeze the juice on top of the other fruit.
“She knew you could help her find the black cat.” Hildie shook her head disapprovingly as she drizzled honey over the fruit. “Black cats are supposed to be good luck in some countries. Here, I think they are bad luck.”
It all came back to Isis.
Tom, his eyes intent on that luscious-looking bowl of fruit, said, “What do you see about Jillian now?”
Hildie looked into my eyes for the first time. “That you have much kindness in you. That my lady did the right thing.”
I felt embarrassment heat my cheeks. “Back to Isis. Do you know how she got out?”
“Of course I know.” Hildie took a spatula from the drawer in front of her and gently mixed the fruit.
“You know and you never told anyone?” Tom said.
She kept working. “No one ever ask.”
I almost laughed. This was a woman who only wanted to work, not be bothered by questions. “How did the cat get out?”
“I saw Mr. Farley take her away, wrapped in a towel so she wouldn’t scratch him with her back claws. That Isis, she is good with what she has left. That black cat has what you Americans call an
I could see Farley doing that. Yes, indeed.
Thirty
We arrived home thirty minutes later after I made a convincing speech to Tom that he should not beat Farley Longworth senseless after the revelations about how that spoiled man had hurt me and tried to kill a cat. Knowledge is power, and we had plenty of that after our visit. Giving Farley some of that knowledge would not be a good idea, and Tom was well aware of that—after he’d calmed down.
When we came in through the back door, I saw Ritaestelle and Kara sitting in the living room. They were listening to a classical music station on a digital TV cable station. My cats hurried into the kitchen to greet us— probably hoping for a treat as well as some petting. I usually gave them treats when I came home after being away for hours. My guilt issues definitely extended to my fur friends.
“There’s a visitation for Evie tonight,” I called out over the music.
Kara picked up the remote and muted the TV. She stood, and soon Ritaestelle rose as well. Just took her a little longer.
“Oh my,” Ritaestelle said. “How will I—”
I held up the dress. “Justine sent clothes, and Mr. Robertson gave me all the information.”
“Thank goodness.” Ritaestelle’s hand went to her heart. “I could not stop thinking about that poor girl today.”
Kara took the dress and the shoebox. “Pay attention to your babies. They have been vocalizing their unhappiness about your absence every chance they got—well, Syrah and Merlot have. Chablis just clung to me like a toddler missing her mommy.”
I smiled.
Tom set the sack with the strudel on the counter. “I’ve got to get home, check my messages and change. Meet you at the funeral home?”
I nodded, and he brushed my lips with his before leaving.
“I’ll take these to the guest room,” Kara said, draping the dress over her arm. She hurried out of the kitchen, her bare feet slapping on the floor.
After I doled out a pile of crunchy tuna treats to my cats, I grabbed a paper napkin and the strudel. Ritaestelle was still standing, Isis in her arms.
“I have something especially for you.” I held up the bag. “From Hildie.”
Ritaestelle put her cat down, and Isis raced into the kitchen. She’d bully Chablis out of her share of the treats, but I’d given Chablis a few extra anticipating this.
Kara returned and soon the three of us sat down in the breakfast nook to enjoy the strudel. The lake sparkled beneath the low-slung sun, but we’d heard on the radio that storms were moving in from the east. I would need an extra umbrella for Ritaestelle tonight.
I summarized our visit to the Longworth Estate, leaving out many details even though Kara tried to squeeze them from me. Tom and I had to talk to Mike Baca before Kara could print any of what we learned, anything that might prove newsworthy, that is. Plus, Ritaestelle didn’t need to know just how nasty her nephew was—though she probably knew more than I gave her credit for.
“That is the best apple anything I have ever tasted,” Kara said. “Maybe the paper can do some of Hildie’s recipes in a Wednesday edition.”
“She would be honored, I am sure,” Ritaestelle said.
Kara stood. “I want to make this visitation, too, so I have to get back to my apartment. My kittens have probably shredded an entire roll of toilet paper in my absence. And I have to figure out what to wear. By the way, Candace was released from the hospital. She’s at her mother’s. She called here when she couldn’t reach you.”
“Oops. I had my phone on silent while we were at Ritaestelle’s house.” I pulled it from my pocket. Sure enough, the message icon showed the missed call. I would have seen it if Tom hadn’t covered up my phone so quickly when I took it out at the Longworth house.
“Do you mind if I call her now?” I said to Ritaestelle.
“You go right ahead. I need to bathe and dress, perhaps pray on what to say to poor Evie’s mother before we meet with the family,” Ritaestelle said.
I watched Ritaestelle head for her room, Isis beside her. The limp was almost nonexistent now. Maybe on the ride to the funeral home I would ask her about those tranquilizers. Perhaps she didn’t even know what they were. Some of what we’d learned today was certainly puzzling, and those pills were part of it.
I speed-dialed Candace, and she answered after a half ring. “Kara said you went to the big house today. Why? What’s going on?”
“Remember how Ritaestelle hired Tom to investigate the case and that she asked me to help him? We went over your notes together this morning,” I said.
“Right,” she said, sounding like she didn’t recall this at all. “This morning seems like a hundred years ago. What did you find out?”
“You should be resting, not thinking about the case. Your brain needs a time-out. Your notes matched up with what we learned.”
“Nothing new?” she said.
“Nothing that can’t wait until you’re feeling better,” I said.
“Come on, Jillian. Don’t freeze me out.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I am already going insane here
