The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

room. The cats went to finish off any food they’d left earlier.

Tom carried two boxes of donuts from Wanda’s Bakery, and the smell of icing and yeast made my mouth water. When was the last time I’d eaten a donut?

“Why didn’t you call me last night, Jillian?” Kara said.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to, but it was late. You might have already been asleep, and—”

“You could have used the support,” Kara said. “I mean, you found a dead woman in your lake. This place is your sanctuary, and now it’s been tainted by a vicious death.”

“Nothing will ever taint this place for me, Kara. And I planned to call you first thing this morning—at a decent hour, of course, and—”

“I still could have come over. I do want to be here for you,” she said.

“I suppose it’s all over the newspaper,” I said.

I caught Tom’s glance—he was shaking his head slightly—and I instantly knew that this was a sore subject.

“You would think a story this big would be above the fold, wouldn’t you? But no. It’s not.” Kara’s jaw tightened.

“That’s not good, is it?” I said.

“A story like this? No. It’s plain embarrassing, if you ask me,” she said.

“You’ll own the paper soon enough, and then you’ll make sure something like this makes the front page right away.” Secretly I was glad the story wasn’t running already. People in Mercy loved to talk, and they’d probably be calling me or stopping me in the grocery store once the news spread.

Kara said, “The Mercy Messenger needs this kind of story to boost sales. But that idiot Buddy who works the night desk didn’t even get off his butt and come here, even though he heard the 911 call on the scanner. He sat in the office eating those five tuna sandwiches he always brings with him. The entire office always smells like tuna. Guess he figured the current owner, editor, do-everything-by-himself, Mr. Mortenson, would handle this today. Do you know how dumb that is?”

“I do now,” I said quietly.

Kara’s expression softened. “Damn. I am so sorry.” She came over and hugged me. When she released me, she said, “I sound like I used to. I sound like the person I was running away from in Houston. Tell me how I can help.”

“You’re here. You’ve already helped.” I looked at Tom. “Do not let Morris see those donuts, or Candace will not be happy. They’ll distract him. I suggest you set them on the counter in an inconspicuous place until the evidence gathering is complete.”

“Rain might end that endeavor,” Tom said. “By the way, Kara tells me Scott Mortenson is happy to let her do the story and all the follow-ups.”

“Oh. That’s great,” I said, trying to sound like this was a wonderful development. But I had mixed emotions. From Kara’s smile, I knew she was thrilled. Despite settling in a small town, she had journalism in her blood. Her first Mercy bylines would be big ones. But would I be her first interview? That might be awkward. I hoped I got a chance to talk to Candace about being in the middle—between Kara and the investigation.

Kara said, “I saw the cop cars out front, and I was hoping—”

The doorbell rang. This time it was Nancy Shelton, but she wasn’t alone. A tall man with a shaved head, maybe midthirties, was with her. She wore her navy blue suit—but this one was different. She wore slacks, and the trim along the edges of her jacket was metallic blue. These suits she wore, with the gold buttons to match her badge, had to be custom-made. I knew plenty about fabrics and sewing. A skilled seamstress had been at work— and had done a marvelous job.

The man with her wore a summer-weight suit with a silk brown-and-pink-striped tie. I instantly envied his thick, dark eyelashes. He probably had a wonderful smile, but right now he looked as serious as a politician giving a concession speech.

When I ushered them into the living room, Nancy Shelton introduced him as Liam Brennan, the county assistant district attorney. “Mr. Brennan will be coordinating the joint efforts of both our towns’ law enforcement to solve this murder as soon as possible.”

She sounded like she was giving a press conference—especially since she was staring straight at Kara the whole time. Did she know Kara was journalist?

I made my introductions then. “This is Kara Hart and Tom Stewart.”

Brennan’s brown eyes were on Kara, too. “Aren’t you buying the newspaper?”

Yup, they know, I thought.

But I caught a flicker of surprise in Kara’s eyes. “Yes,” she said. “And though I’m Jillian’s stepdaughter, I need to be clear that I’m also here because of my connection to the Mercy Messenger.”

“I didn’t see any story in this morning’s paper,” Brennan said in an almost taunting way.

I glanced at Kara, feeling the need to protect her. “You will see a story. Isn’t that right, Kara?”

She was staring Brennan down, not appearing the least bit intimidated. I should have known she didn’t need any protection from me.

Kara said, “Since I’m already taking over many aspects of the newspaper’s day-to-day operations, you’ll be seeing my byline. A lot.”

Brennan smiled, and that smile was as charming as I’d imagined it would be. “Look forward to it.” He turned to Tom. “And you own a private security business. But weren’t you a police officer at one time, and then you —”

“Good for you. You’ve done your homework,” Tom said tersely.

The escalating tension in the room had my stomach churning. Those donuts smelled sickly sweet and unappealing now. I said, “Let me get Mike. He was trying to round up some underwater equipment.”

But Mike must have heard their arrival because he came in through the back door.

Suddenly I felt the need to sit before my legs gave out. For the first time, the enormity of what had happened overwhelmed me. I found the closest easy chair. All of this bantering and the apparent need for one-upmanship seemed ludicrous. A young woman was dead. And yet politics, news scoops and evidence collection were all anyone seemed to care about.

Kara addressed Mike as soon as he came into the living room. “Do you mind if I see the crime scene for myself?” She pulled a camera from the hobo-style bag slung over her shoulder.

“From a distance.”

Brennan held out a hand to Mike. “Good to see you again, Mike.”

The two shook hands, and Mike said, “Nancy told me you’d be involved—help us share information. Thanks for that.”

Brennan glanced back and forth between Tom and me. “You two please stay inside.” He turned to Mike. “Lead the way.”

When they were gone, Tom came over and took my hands. “You’re cold, not to mention pale as a polar bear. This isn’t what you signed up for when you told Shawn you’d help with Isis. Where are the cats, by the way?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find them,” I said. “I could use a cat in my lap right now.”

And find them we did. In my quilting room. And guess who was stuck in my sewing cabinet drawer while my three sat in a half circle staring at her latest dilemma.

Fifteen

I carefully extracted Isis from the cabinet drawer while Tom crouched beside me and petted my cats.

I said, “Isis apparently thinks she’s thinner than she actually is. Maybe her whiskers are too short. Whiskers should warn a cat about whether they’ll fit into a space.”

“I get the feeling that Isis does what Isis wants, regardless of the consequences,” he said. “Sounds like a little criminal, if you ask me.”