The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

heroic in your efforts to bring her back to life. I will be forever grateful that someone showed mercy and kindness at the end of her life.”

Shelton leaned close and said, “I’ll be over there with the other officers.”

“I—I didn’t do enough,” I said. Mercy. Such a powerful word. I recalled feeling like a failure that night, and not much had changed over the last several days. I added, “I’m only sorry no one could save her.”

“I take comfort knowing that she’s in a better place,” Loretta said.

Ritaestelle seemed to be having trouble getting up, and I reached out to help her.

She smiled sadly once she was on her feet. “I am sure you want to say a few words to poor Evie.”

Not exactly. If having trouble breathing is part of a panic attack, I had newfound sympathy for those who’d experienced one. My chest was tight, and I felt lightheaded. But though I would have preferred to run out the door as I had done at the Longworth house the other day, I took my place on the kneeling bench. I did, however, avoid so much as a glance at Evie. When I bowed my head, I realized this panic had an origin. This was my first funeral visitation since John’s death.

The hushed conversations, the flowers and that hovering unpleasant scent were all painful reminders of what I’d gone through not so long ago—after John died. Tears filled my eyes, and I had to bite my lower lip to avoid releasing the sob caught in my throat.

Tom, perceptive as always, arrived at my side and rested a hand on my shoulder. He leaned over and whispered, “This must be hard. Come on.” He took my elbow and helped me up.

To get my mind off the past, I immediately looked for Ritaestelle. She was seated in a folding chair along the wall to my left with her relatives huddled around her. Justine was kneeling by her, holding her hand, but the cousins remained standing. I gave Ritaestelle a look that said, “You need any help?”

She shook her head almost imperceptibly.

Meanwhile, people I didn’t know were streaming in to pay their respects to Evie. Tom took my hand, and we walked over to the police gathered in the corner. As I joined them, the two paramedics, Jake and Marcy, who’d worked on Evie the night of the murder, arrived, and the uniformed officers went to greet them. That left Tom, Nancy, Mike and me.

Keeping his voice low, Tom said, “I was telling Mike about our visit to the Longworth house today.”

Mike said, “I wish the family hadn’t said anything to you about the tranquilizers we discovered during the search.”

“Why?” I said.

“Because that means they probably told anyone who would listen. Problem was, we had to call them in to Miss Longworth’s room to identify items, and Candace was just bagging the pill bottle.”

“That news is all over town, so you’re right,” Shelton said. “Augusta called me up the minute you left. But what about these passwords you mentioned earlier, Stewart? What’s the significance? Seems like that was in Evie’s job description.”

“I’ll let Mike give you a complete report. One thing we did learn for certain is that Farley carried the poor cat out the back door. I don’t think he was taking her for her regular veterinary checkup.”

Shelton shook her head in disgust. “Farley Longworth is one sorry bastard—excuse my French. You notice he’s not here. We should sweat him. Bet he has a lot to tell.”

“Agreed,” Mike said. “The family’s phone records and financials we subpoenaed should come in tomorrow, and that’ll show the extent of his gambling problem. But as for those pills we confiscated? I’ve already spent the day working on that. Those tranquilizers were ordered over the Internet. They had Miss Longworth’s name on them, but we can’t be sure she did the ordering. The woman doesn’t even use a cell phone. Would she have the skills to order drugs online? I doubt it. Good news is, Candace got a decent latent off the pill bottle.”

I’d forgotten to ask Ritaestelle about the pills, and now I wished I had. She might have a clue as to who did order them. Could have been Evie for all we knew.

“Prints,” Tom said. “Good old Candace printed everyone, I hear.”

“Yeah, but Candace can’t remember where she put the print cards,” Mike said. “She can’t remember much of anything, and it’s driving her crazy.”

“They weren’t in her evidence kit?” I asked. The night of the murder I’d seen her put Ritaestelle’s card in there after she’d taken her fingerprints.

“No, we looked,” Mike said. “But I haven’t had a chance to check her vehicle. She might have stuck them in the glove compartment. You didn’t happen to see an envelope when you got her notes?”

I should have known he was aware we took the notes. It’s not like Mercy officers don’t share information. But I still felt like I’d done something wrong. “Candace told us to get them once I reminded her—and I did have to remind her—that Tom was hired to help with the investigation.”

Mike said, “I’ve got no problem with you working for Miss Longworth. Any other PI? Maybe. Not you.” He slapped Tom on the back and smiled. Mike and Tom went back a long way, and I was relieved Mike wasn’t angry about our involvement.

As they continued to talk, I thought about those fingerprints. When there was a break in the conversation, I said, “Could one of the family members have been worried about those prints and knocked Candace out to steal those cards?”

Mike rubbed his chin with tented fingers. “You may be on to something, but if one of them took the cards, he or she had to know we could print them again.” He nodded in the direction of the Longworths. “And we can’t rule out that one of them, or maybe Farley, told Candy something incriminating and that someone decided she had to go down. But whatever that information was, it’s now erased forever by that blow to her skull. I talked to the doc, and he says she probably won’t ever remember much detail from that day.”

“At least she’s okay,” I said softly. I was uncomfortable talking about the case with Ritaestelle’s family only six feet away. Was the killer in the room, or was Farley, or even Desmond, the culprit? Desmond. The ladies’ man. What if he’d made a move on Evie and she threatened to tell Ritaestelle?

Tom pulled me from my thoughts, saying, “Jillian, did you hear me?”

“Sorry. Lost in thought,” I said.

“Mike and I want to check Candace’s car one more time for those print cards,” he said. “Will you be okay here?”

I could read the worry on his face. I’d had a little meltdown on that kneeling bench, and he knew it. “Sure,” I said. “Kara was supposed to be here—gosh, where is she?—and she’ll probably follow us home.”

“I’m glad to play security detail again,” Shelton said.

“Thanks, but—Oh, there she is,” I said.

And Liam Brennan was with her.

“What’s he doing here?” Shelton said.

“Could be he is gathering information about the family—and Evie’s family, too. Were they . . . you know . . . eliminated as suspects?” I asked.

“Rock-solid alibis.” Shelton watched Tom and Mike, who had paused to say hello to Kara before they left. “I checked up on Evie’s family and told Mike, but he hasn’t been sharing everything he knew.”

“What do you mean?” I said as Brennan went toward the family and Kara walked over to join Shelton and me. She’d caught admiring looks from several police officers. Her short-sleeved brown linen dress showed off her figure, and with her dark hair clipped back and tumbling down her back, I swore she could have done a photo shoot for Vanity Fair right at that moment.

Shelton cleared her throat. “We don’t need to get into that right now.” She smiled at Kara. “Good evening, Miss Hart.”

Kara nodded at her and rubbed circles on my back, saying, “You okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. Funerals are—well, you know,” I said.

She nodded solemnly. “Oh, I know all right.” She looked at Shelton. “I haven’t met Evie Preston’s family, but I’d like to do a human interest story for the paper. What can you tell me about them?”

Shelton, who’d been uncharacteristically pleasant until now, reverted to her normal cranky self in a flash. “Those people are from my town, and I don’t want you bothering them. They’re grieving.”

“But—” Kara started.