wear it.
Chester had not yet arrived when we pulled up to a mailbox that bore the number 911. Prophetic, I thought. We might need a special 911 emergency number for cats in a little while.
Candace said, “We’ll wait on Chester. He gets paid to deal with these situations.” She parked the cruiser on the side of the road next to a driveway similar to Ruth’s and left the engine running.
No cow grate, I thought. That’s why Harriett had been able to leave and wander on home. “You mean situations that might be considered animal neglect?” I said.
“Right. Kinda makes me sick even to think about,” she said.
“My stomach’s been churning since I saw what’s going on here. Dirty outdoor runs. Unhappy cats. And some that might be in bad shape like the gray.” I checked my watch. Almost seven p.m., with the sun hanging below the tree line and painting the sky blood orange.
We waited in silence, the tension in the car as steady as the loud purr of the engine.
When Chester hadn’t arrived by seven twenty and he wasn’t answering his phone or his page, Candace finally spoke. “For pity’s sake, I can’t sit here forever waiting on this man.”
I felt the same way-anxious and worried.
Before Candace got out of the car, she pointed a finger at me. “I know you. You want to see if those cats are okay. But stay put. If the animal control wagon arrives, tell Chester I’ve gone to check this place out.”
“I’ve got a bad vibe, Candace. Let me go with you. My gut told me from the minute I met him that he’s got serious issues, and-”
She patted the weapon on her hip. “I have help right here.” Then Candace slipped from behind the wheel.
I called, “Be careful,” before she slammed the door.
Once she was out of sight, I shut off the air-conditioning and rolled down the window. The evening’s muggy warmth and the smell of jasmine engulfed me. On another day and another occasion, that combination might have been soothing. Not today.
I poured what was left of my coffee into the dirt. The coffee seemed only to have made my stomach feel worse. Candace had been thoughtful to bring me the boost I needed, but I would have preferred a purring Chablis in my lap. A purring cat helps me through any tough time.
I told myself that with Candace on the job, the cats would be taken care of. I should just calm down.
A mere thirty seconds passed before I realized I couldn’t calm down and was too restless to remain in the car. I turned off the engine, took the keys and began to pace at the end of the driveway. I heard the rumbling sound of an engine and looked out on the road. A white panel van sputtered by, and the driver waved his hand out the window as he passed. I waved back-that’s what you did in Mercy. But I was distracted by the situation at hand. I began to gnaw on my index fingernail. I was listening for cat cries. But I heard nothing. Maybe they were happier than the last time I’d been here-which seemed like a hundred years ago.
Or perhaps the breeze was carrying their pleading voices in the other direction. I ventured several steps down the curving, hedge- lined gravel driveway, hoping I could hear something-anything. Soon the peaked house came into view. White clapboard-or used to be white. More like gray now.
Still hearing nothing, of either the cat or the human variety, I edged closer to get a full view of the house.
And that’s when Candace bolted out through the front door, pressing the walkie-talkie she usually wore on her shoulder close to her mouth.
Her already pale skin was sickly white, and suddenly she dropped the walkie-talkie and fell to her knees.
She began to retch.
Six
Iran to Candace and knelt beside her. “What’s wrong? Are there… d-dead cats?” I rubbed circles on her back, noting that sweat now dampened her brown and green uniform shirt.
She took a deep breath. “No. A dead professor. I’ve called for backup.”
My hand covered my mouth in shock, and I mumbled, “Oh no. Is it awful?”
“Yup. Pretty darn awful. But that’s not what made me sick. It’s all the raw meat. Looked like a hind quarter of beef on the counter.”
“Deep breath,” I said. “You’re hyperventilating.”
She closed her eyes and took in a huge breath, let it out slowly. “This is so stupid. But when I was a kid, my daddy used to make me lend a hand dressing the deer he shot. The last time he forced me into helping, I threw up on his shoes. That was the end of that.”
“I have some Pepto chewables in my purse,” I said.
She swiped at her mouth. “Nope. I’m fine. Got to get myself together before all the boys show up. Don’t want to hear them say I’m acting like a little girl.”
“Are you sure the professor’s dead?” I said.
“Oh yeah. He was all twisted up, and his eyes were bugging out. I couldn’t find a pulse.” She took another deep breath before she stood.
I stood as well. “He was alive a little more than an hour ago,” I said. “You think he had a seizure or something?”
“Maybe, but that was one hell of a seizure, if you ask me.” She stared down at the pool of coffee she’d vomited up. “Damn, I wish I hadn’t done that.”
“You’re human,” I said.
She started walking away from the house, her eyes trained on the ground. “If a crime’s been committed, we have to preserve any evidence we can, so we’ll walk back to my patrol car exactly the way we came and wait for backup.”
Follow exactly the way we came? Seemed impossible, considering I had no idea where I’d walked, but Candace needed the comfort of trying to preserve evidence, so I kept my mouth shut.
Unfortunately, the backup came in the form of one Morris Ebeling, who arrived in his own SUV wearing street clothes-cargo-style khaki shorts and an orange Hooters T-shirt stretched over his generous paunch.
“What’s going on, Candy? You’re as white as my new Reeboks,” he said.
“What are you doing here, Morris? You’re off duty,” Candace said.
She had to be rattled, because she didn’t bother to correct him when he called her “Candy.”
“Who’s the acting chief?” he said.
“You are,” she mumbled.
“Then you got your answer. We got a suspicious death here? Or natural causes?” He started to walk past Candace, and she grabbed his arm.
“I’m not sure, so wait until I get my evidence kit and some crime-scene tape before you go traipsing down to the house. Is anyone else responding?” Her color was returning, thanks to Morris. He usually did bother the heck out of Candace.
“Fire truck and paramedics should be here any minute.” Morris turned to me. “Why are you here, Citizen Hart? Another ride-along?”
He sounded so sarcastic, I nearly bit my tongue holding back some sarcasm of my own. He wouldn’t get to me. Not today. “There’s a situation here concerning the possible neglect of cats. We came because I brought this to Candace’s attention. She agreed to check it out, and I… well… I had to show her where the cats were.”
“Really? She couldn’t find her way over here alone?” he said.
“You know me. Couldn’t get that map thingie on the computer to work,” Candace said quickly. “But Jillian had a good idea where the house was.”
“And then Candy happens to find another dead person right after you’ve been here?” He shook his head. “This is sounding way too familiar. After all, you are the one who discovered the last dead body we had here last year.”
“She never went inside the house today, Morris,” Candace said. “And you know she didn’t kill anyone last year.”
“All I can say is that some folks in Mercy might be wishing you’d take yourself back to Houston once they hear
