The Cat, the Quilt and the Corpse

“Would you quit with the cop crap? I’m Tom and you’re Mike. We’re friends, remember?”

“The cop crap? Is that what murder was to you when you were on the force?” Baca said.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” Tom said.

I stood, tired of all these complicated Mercy relationships coming into play. “You know what?” I said. “No matter what Flake Wilkerson did, I would never kill him. That’s not the kind of person I am. Now, I’m leaving.” I walked out of the office, my heart beating so fast I had trouble breathing. Could you actually walk away from the police without ending up in handcuffs?

Seemed I could, because no one called my name and told me to stop, and no one followed me. Candace might have, if she’d been in the waiting area—but a new person sat behind the desk, a young man who could have passed for twelve. Since he was wearing a Mercy Police uniform, he was probably closer to eighteen or nineteen.

I hurried down the hall and out of the building, making a beeline for my minivan. The sun was desperately attempting to break through the cloud cover. A warm change was imminent—the humidity told me as much. Yes, in many ways this was a different world than it had been a few days ago. But it would not be a world where I hid in my sewing room trying to pretend none of this had happened. I had to find out why Flake Wilkerson stole my cat and what, if anything, that had to do with his death.

On the drive home I considered how I could accomplish those two things. I wasn’t a police officer. I didn’t know anything about being a detective. Yet I was smack in the middle of a mystery where people were thinking the worst of me and keeping secrets. People like Mike Baca, who was only doing his job, but it still hurt my feelings. And people like Tom. Had he been protecting me when he offered his cell phone? Was he afraid there might be something incriminating on mine? I had no idea.

When I made the last turn for home, I saw a squad car in my driveway. Apparently I hadn’t made a clean escape after all. When I pulled in behind the car, Candace got out and walked toward me. Maybe they needed a female officer to put me in jail and that was why I hadn’t been stopped when I left.

Oh God, I’m going to jail.

“What happened in there with you and the chief?” Candace’s eyes were dancing with interest.

“You’re not here to arrest me?” I said.

“What?” came her confused reply. “Remember? I’m off this case. The only thing that makes the taste in my mouth a little less bitter is that Lydia’s been kicked off, too. She made sure I knew as much, and for some reason she thinks it’s all your fault.”

“But that’s crazy,” I said.

“And you expected . . . what, exactly?”

I shrugged. “I have so much to learn about this town.”

Candace glanced toward my house. “It’s my lunch break, so can we talk inside? I want to know every detail of what went on in that office.”

I smiled and waved for her to follow me. Once inside, I fixed us tall sweet teas, and then Candace and I settled in the living room. Dove, who I’d decided was the inspiration for the song “We Are the World” because she seemed to love everyone, jumped into Candace’s lap. Merlot sat close to me on the couch, and the other two sniffed and rubbed on Candace before they went off to find a dark, quiet spot to sleep. They’d been stressed in the last few days and needed to catch up on their z’s.

I related my rather perplexing visit with the chief and Tom and summed up by saying, “I think I’m still a suspect. But there’s an issue between Tom and Mike, one they sure didn’t share with me.”

“Interesting,” Candace said. “Tom stays pretty busy between the security setups and his PI work. Maybe he and Wilkerson had a history.”

“That might explain things,” I said. “I can’t help but feel that my calling Tom yesterday got him in trouble, too.”

“You were smart enough to know you needed help at the Pink House. You did the right thing. The only mistake you made was a lack of patience. You should have waited for Tom to get there.”

“I couldn’t wait. Not when I saw Syrah in the driveway,” I said.

“I understand, but I don’t think the chief does. He doesn’t trust you, Lydia’s pissed off, and he and Tom aren’t on good terms. I mean, what a mess. I have a mind to solve this case myself and show those boys how to get answers without antagonizing the entire town at the same time.”

“Lydia was like a different person from the minute she saw me with Tom,” I said.

Candace laughed. “She was bouncing mad when she stormed outta Baca’s office. And we both know what was bouncing the most.”

“I’d like to clear my name and Shawn’s, too. Can you and I work on that?” I said.

“As long as they don’t make me the paperwork princess, I would love to. But only as your friend—not while I’m on the clock. Got to do what I can to keep from getting fired—at least until I can save enough to go back to school and get a job in forensics. This small-town stuff is wearing me out.”

She had to leave then but told me her shift was over at three and she’d be back to brainstorm on how we should proceed. At the back door she gave me a big hug and said, “I do so like you, girlfriend. You and me are gonna get to the bottom of this.”

I busied myself with my quilt orders for the next several hours and then went to the computer to send e- mails to a few customers. Several of the Syrah flyers that hadn’t printed well were in the wastebasket near my desk, and I thought about how I’d put them around town before knowing they’d be gone within hours thanks to the sign ordinance.

That got me wondering who removed signs for the city. I recalled Belle mentioning that she’d wanted to put up signs when her cat had disappeared, too. How many other people had done the same when their pet went missing? Could this “sign remover” know about any missing cats? Like the three cats Shawn took from Wilkerson’s place after the murder? This might not lead anywhere, but I would run it by Candace when she came back later today. Maybe it would help us find other people who had reason to be upset with Wilkerson for stealing their cats.

My cell phone rang and I hurried to the kitchen, where I’d left it. Syrah found this entertaining and chased me. When I reached the phone, he leaped onto the counter and sat down, ready to listen.

“You okay?” Tom said when I answered.

“Fine. I take it this isn’t your one phone call from jail,” I said.

“Nope,” he said. “Looks like both of us lucked out today. I can’t tell you what Mike was referring to in that odd interview because I don’t know. Maybe he thinks you and I conspired to commit murder together.”

“Yeah, right. Having never been interviewed by even one police officer before all this, I couldn’t tell you if it was odd or not.”

“You want to get a bite tonight?” Tom blurted out.

The ensuing silence was deafening. I was completely taken aback. Was Tom asking me out? If he was, I had no idea what to say. He was attractive and smart, and I liked him, but the only man I could really think about, even now, was John.

After the silence had become awkwardly long, Tom said, “I get it. It’s okay.”

“I-I’m not sure,” I stammered. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I guess I am,” he said.

Before I could think through my response, I said, “I don’t know, Tom. The coffee was great this morning, but I don’t think I’m ready for dinner.”

“Sure. I didn’t mean to push you or anything. Take care.” He disconnected abruptly and I found myself holding the dead receiver.

And then, suddenly, my feelings surprised me, and I realized I was sorry I hadn’t taken him up on his offer.

Fourteen