The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

Mike scribbled in his notebook while the look on Shelton’s face told me she wasn’t buying this explanation.

“How old is Farley?” Though I wasn’t supposed to be asking questions, I was curious.

“Forty,” Shelton and Ritaestelle said in unison.

Then Ritaestelle added, “Too old for Evie, if you want my opinion. But a man who acts like an adolescent is likely to have an attraction to an accomplished and attractive woman like Evie, wouldn’t you agree?”

I nodded. “I’d say most men would have found her attractive.”

Mike stared at me, saying, “I’ll be asking plenty of questions of all the people who knew Miss Preston.”

Message received, Mike, I thought.

Another woman, this one in beige scrubs, entered the room. Her name tag said, JENKINS, RN. “The doctor has changed your medicine to pills.” She glanced at all of us. “Um, I need to talk to my patient in private.”

“You may say whatever you need to, Nurse Jenkins,” Ritaestelle said. “I have no secrets.”

The nurse said, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Ritaestelle replied.

“All right. After more blood work and an MRI of that hip, you’re being released, Miss Longworth. We know your hip isn’t fractured, but we can get an extent of the inflammation with the MRI.” She pushed a small cart that had several drawers to the bedside after we all moved aside to allow her to get close to her patient. She checked Ritaestelle’s hospital bracelet, administered the medicine and left.

Meanwhile, Ritaestelle never took her eyes off me. “I do not feel inclined to go home. After what’s happened I believe I am far less safe than I was yesterday.”

That stare turned pleading and bore into me.

I knew what she wanted. Yup, I was still in this up to my eyeballs.

Seventeen

Mike Baca dropped me off at the Main Street Diner when we returned to Mercy. I walked into the restaurant and was met with the smell of fries and grilled meat. This place always made me hungry—and I was grateful that my stomach had finally settled down. That didn’t mean I wasn’t worried about my offer to have Ritaestelle stay with me for a few days. But deep down I knew it was best for her. She needed help, and after learning about her family, I feared they weren’t the right crew for the job.

Mike hadn’t objected when I’d haltingly told Ritaestelle she could stay with me if she was afraid to go home. But Shelton sure hadn’t liked the idea. That was when I realized that having Ritaestelle in Mercy, rather than back in Woodcrest, was fine with Mike. Not so from Shelton’s point of view, though. Police are so territorial. But she’d forced a smile and said she wanted her friend to be comfortable.

I leaned on the counter near the cash register. Besides their trademark Texas chili dogs, they made wonderful burgers with chipotle mayo and sweet onions served on toast. I was craving one of those, so I took out my phone and called Tom for a headcount at the house. After I got the number—everyone wanted burgers—I placed my order and then walked down the street to Belle’s Beans. During the walk I took time to check my cat cam. Tom was sitting in the living room with Morris. They were surrounded by sleeping cats. Except for Isis, that is. I wondered where she was. Still stuck somewhere? Probably.

The owner of Belle’s Beans, whom I called the real Belle, was sitting reading the paper at one of the tall tables. Meanwhile, a young woman with a BELLE name tag stood behind the counter taking coffee orders.

When the real Belle saw me, she practically jumped off her bar stool and came over to greet me. She is spry for a woman in her late sixties—maybe as spry as Ritaestelle was before her fall. Belle’s lipstick, an almost Concord grape color, did not serve her well. Seemed to me that white-haired ladies should go for pinks and corals. Plus, as usual, she’d spread the lipstick well below her lower lip.

Belle gave me a bear hug, saying, “Oh, my goodness gracious, I heard what happened. I am so sorry.”

When she released me, I said, “It’s a terrible thing. Evie Preston was so young.”

“Have some coffee and tell me all about it.” Belle started for her table.

“I ordered takeout from the diner, so I can’t stay. I came to pick up coffee beans, and I am dying for an iced vanilla latte.”

Belle pouted, only emphasizing her awful makeup job. But then she called out to the Belle behind the counter. “Large iced vanilla latte to go and a bag of Kenyan beans for Miss Jillian.”

I knew that the real name of the young woman behind the counter was Wendy, but it was Belle’s practice to have every employee wear a name tag with BELLE on it. She felt it added to the friendly atmosphere. I couldn’t argue. This cute little coffee shop with its wonderful drinks and delicious pastries and cakes was probably the friendliest spot in Mercy.

“Listen, Belle, I promise to tell you everything when I can,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll tell you this: Ritaestelle couldn’t possibly have killed anyone. She has been a pillar in that town of hers. Yes, a pillar. Helped anyone in need. But did she really come to your house in her dressing gown?”

I averted my eyes, thinking, Everyone knows. Heck, Belle probably knows more than I do. I met her eager stare. “It was a bathrobe. But are you saying you know Ritaestelle?”

“Why, yes. We are of the same generation, after all. But her cousin Muriel is the real connection. She married my cousin, so we’re sort of related,” Belle said.

“I believe Muriel was at the hospital this morning. Plump woman with red hair?”

“That would be her,” Belle said. “Not long after my cousin and Muriel were married, he took off with a nineteen-year-old nanny who lived at the Longworth Estate. The girl was supposed to be taking care of Farley Longworth, but apparently she was busy doing other things.”

“That was a while ago, then?” I said. “Because Farley is approaching middle age.”

“Yes. You do the math.” Belle grinned. “I don’t measure anything by years anymore. Helps a girl stay young.”

I grinned. “Is that why you chose grape lipstick today? For the youthful look?”

Belle touched her lips. “Yes, but I nearly scared poor Java to death when I put it on this morning. I don’t think I’ll try it again.”

Java was her cobby kitty, a lovely brown Persian.

“Cats know best,” I said. “I pay attention to what they tell me in their own way. But back to Farley. You knew him, too?”

“Not really. When my cousin was part of the Longworth family, my late husband and I were invited to a few gatherings, but aside from Ritaestelle, I didn’t care for that bunch. Maybe that’s why my cousin ran away from all that money. He couldn’t stand them either. He stayed away, too. Had his happily ever after life in Wisconsin until he passed away two years ago.”

Wendy boomed, “Large iced vanilla latte.”

Belle muttered, “I’m gonna have to talk to that particular Belle. Guess her mama never schooled her about using her inside voice. She’s not calling across a football field, for heaven’s sake.”

“Gotta go,” I said, giving Belle a hug. I paid for my coffee and latte and walked back to the diner. Now that the morning clouds had cleared, the sun shined bright and hot. No rain today, which I’m sure made Candace happy. Indeed, it was such pretty weather that the tourists who frequented Mercy in the summer were out in droves visiting the specialty shops and antiques stores on Main Street.

I was surprised to see Tom standing under the diner’s green awning when I arrived back there. I had been just about to call him to pick me up.

He said, “Food should be ready, right?”

It was, and ten minutes later we were at my house. As we took the back steps, I saw Candace traipsing up from the lake carrying a wad of used yellow crime scene tape.

She called, “We’re done.”

“Come on in for a burger,” I said. “I have a few things to tell you.”