Twelve
Since Merlot seemed upset about the Persian invasion, I gave him a plum spot close to me when I went to bed. He was gone when I awoke the next morning—probably busy cornering my little invader and making sure she didn’t get her fair share of food or a chance at the litter box. While I showered, I thought about how Shawn and I had gone on that mission to find my cat just days ago. He’d helped me, and now I felt like I’d betrayed him. We had to talk.
An hour later, I drove to the Sanctuary, but it was Allison, not Shawn, who came outside to greet me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she gripped a coffee mug with both hands. She looked as tired as I felt.
“Long night?” I asked as we stood in the packed dirt driveway.
“Shawn didn’t sleep and neither did I,” she said. “He’s so upset, Jillian.”
“I had to tell the police what I knew, but that doesn’t mean I believe he had anything to do with that man’s death.”
“He doesn’t quite see it that way,” she said. “He thinks you pointed the finger at him to take the spotlight off yourself.”
“But that’s wrong. Can I talk to him?”
Allison glanced back at the Sanctuary. “He saw you drive up and he doesn’t want to talk to you. Did you know they took his fingerprints? And that the police have been all over the Sanctuary and our house? This whole thing is humiliating to both of us.”
“If it means anything, they searched my house, too.”
“Can’t say that helps. Give him time to get his head straight. As for me, I think you’re a sweet person and maybe one day we can be friends.”
Her words stung. “One day? But not now?”
“I have to support Shawn, and he’s not feeling friendly right now.”
“We’re on the same side, Allison. Please ask him to listen to me for a few minutes. Mr. Wilkerson stole cats and Shawn was certain he broke into your shelter. He could shed light on the thefts as a possible motive. The cat thefts are important, at least to me. I need to understand why Mr. Wilkerson was doing what he was doing.”
She smiled down into her coffee—which had to be as cold as the fall air. “Don’t you think coming up with motives and suspects is the police’s responsibility?” But then she looked past me. “Someone’s coming.”
I turned in time to see a Mercy Police squad car pull in and halt behind my van.
“Great,” Allison said under her breath.
Chief Baca and Morris Ebeling got out of the car.
“Well, if it isn’t the cat lady herself,” Morris said. “Fancy finding you here.”
Wearing a grave expression, Baca said, “Ms. Hart, Ms. Cuddahee.”
“Your husband here, Ms. Cuddahee?” Morris said.
Shawn emerged from the shelter. “I’m here. You forget something last time you messed up the place?”
Morris looked at Baca and the chief nodded a silent affirmation.
“You’re coming with us for a more formal interview.” Morris walked toward Shawn.
“Is that cop lingo for you’re arresting me?” Shawn’s fair skin reddened.
Baca said,“Not arresting you yet. We had to borrow video equipment from the county to record your statement—and discuss a few other matters.”
“What does all this mean, Mike?” Allison said. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We need his statement again, that’s all,” Baca said.
Morris tried to take Shawn by the elbow, but he pulled away. “I know how to walk without help.” He marched to the squad car with Morris on his heels.
I hoped I was wrong, but this sure looked like an arrest.
Baca turned to Allison. “We’ll get this straightened out and he’ll be home in no time.” He started toward the car, but then stopped and looked at me. “Hope you’re here simply as a friend, Ms. Hart.”
What the heck did that mean? But he was apparently delivering a warning, not looking for an answer, because he walked away.
Allison didn’t take her eyes off the car until it was out of sight. Then, tears in her eyes, she said, “See what you’ve done?” and hurried back toward the Sanctuary.I stared at her as she retreated. Nothing I could have said would have made a difference. Not now.
I wouldn’t find answers to what had just transpired by going home and hiding—which would have been the comfortable and cowardly thing to do. Instead, I drove into town and went straight to Belle’s Beans. One thing I’d learned about Mercy in the last few days was that people spread the word about anything and everything. Someone surely knew why Shawn had been taken in for questioning again, and the only way I could find answers was by planting myself in the center of town and hoping someone would share the latest gossip.
I walked inside, but even the wonderful smells—coffee and butter-rich pastries—couldn’t obliterate the guilt I felt about what had happened at the Sanctuary. How could someone like me, who at one time had every detail of her life carefully planned out, have a year like this? Everything seemed so . . . so out of control.
“You’re lookin’ a might ragged,” the Belle of the Day behind the counter said. Her cornrowed hair sections were tipped with vibrant colored beads that clicked together with every movement.
I ordered the biggest latte they offered, and as I handed over the money she added, “ Course you been through the wringer and back.” This stranger probably knew more than I did about the current events in my life.
“What’s your real name?” I said, managing a smile.
She grinned. “You’ve become a real Mercyite. You know the secret. My name is Shondra. Now let me fix your coffee. We’re usin’ Sumatra beans today. Sumatra is in Africa. Didn’t know until I started working here how good African beans are. These are nice and smoky.”
I waited for my coffee, wishing the original, very talkative Belle was here, but she wasn’t sitting and reading like she had been the other day. Maybe I’d have to head for the tea shop down the street and have chicken salad for lunch, or buy flowers at the little florist place in the other direction. I could maybe strike up a conversation in one of those places.
Shondra handed over my coffee and I thought about chatting
Boy, was I glad to see him. “Maybe. You want to join me?”
I took my drink to a corner table. Tom might know why Shawn had been taken in for another interview. While I waited for him, I checked my home video feed, and what I saw on my cell phone screen made me grin. Little Dove had wormed her way into Merlot’s heart, at least while he thought I wasn’t looking. They were curled up together on the couch. Gosh, she was a sweetheart, and Merlot was such a big softie.
“Everything working okay?” He took the stool across from me.
I closed my phone.
“Yes, the security cameras work great. And I guess the threat to my cats is gone now anyway—though not in a way I would ever have wished for.”
“Wilkerson died a pretty ugly death; that’s for sure. He pissed someone off royal,” Tom said.
I sipped my coffee. Shondra was right. Delicious stuff.
“Back in my law enforcement days—”
“You were a cop?” I said, surprised. But then, it made sense—and actually explained a lot of what I had considered odd behavior before. For instance, how he had reacted to me when he’d discovered me at Wilkerson’s house.
“Police officer. For ten years. And back then I would have honed in on you as a suspect. That cat means the world to you and Flake stole him. The knife holder was right by that apple he’d just cut up and—”
