The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo Page 13

  Lara’s heart melted, and she hugged Felicia. “You’re such a great dog mom. And a lovely person, as well.”

  Felicia blushed. “Oh, thank you. I sure wish you lived closer. I could picture us becoming fast friends, couldn’t you?”

  Lara nodded. Bakewell seemed like a close-knit town, where everyone knew everyone else. In that respect it was a lot like Whisker Jog. Either that or Lara had been drawn to the people who’d had a connection to Chancer.

  Megan.

  Lara hadn’t heard from her since Monday. Was she still a suspect? After begging Lara to help her, why hadn’t she been in touch?

  Her cell pinged with a text. Lara pulled it out of her tote, read it, then smiled. Her aunt was already worrying about her, wondering if she was on her way home. She texted back that she was buying a few goodies and would be heading home in a few.

  Lara grabbed a wire basket. She tossed in some of Felicia’s tea packets and a bag of Tina’s fortune cookies, then paid for her purchases. Felicia hugged Lara this time. She begged her not to be a stranger, but Lara didn’t promise anything.

  If she were smart, she’d remove herself from any more involvement in Chancer’s murder.

  If she were smart.

  The thought had no sooner tripped through her head when she spotted him. Her nemesis, arms folded over his chest, leaning against her Saturn’s front fender with a gotcha grin smeared across his handsome face.

  State Police Lieutenant Conrad Cutler.

  * * * *

  “Fancy meeting you here, Lieutenant,” Lara said in the most innocent voice she could muster.

  “I’d tip my hat, but I’m not wearing one.” Cutler unfolded his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Lara, what are you doing here?”

  The nerve, questioning her like she was a teenager playing hooky from school!

  “I’m shopping for goodies.” She held up her bag from the Peach Crate. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I’m just wondering why you’ve been hanging around in a town where a murder took place five days ago. A town you had no prior connection to.”

  “How do you know I had no prior connection to this town?” Lara said, trying to keep the edge from her voice. Lord, but the man was infuriating.

  He stared at her without responding.

  “And I’m not hanging around, as you put it. I came here on Monday to look for shoes for my friend’s wedding, and this morning I’ve been shopping for gourmet treats. To use as wedding favors,” she added. A tiny fib, but she saw no need to mention the in-between stuff with Tina Tanaka and Karen’s dad. “By the way, I did not appreciate you squealing on me to Gideon the other day.”

  He shrugged and turned his gaze toward the street, as if keeping a sharp eye out for lawbreakers. “Call it squealing if you like, but I was just keeping him up-to-date on our progress. As you know, he’s a former…friend of Megan Haskell’s.”

  Lara felt like bopping him. Fortunately, she didn’t have a violent bone in her body. If she did, she’d already be in handcuffs. “I’m aware of their prior connection, Lieutenant. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to help—”

  Uh-oh. She’d put her foot in it that time.

  “You wanted to help find the real killer?” Cutler said in a steely voice.

  Lara felt a flush creep up her neck. The guy had an uncanny way of reading her thoughts. She looked away and opened her car’s passenger side door. She tossed her tote and the goodies bag onto the front seat, then slammed the door shut. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I need to leave now. Book club this afternoon, and lots of cats to care for. Plus, I’m freezing out here.”

  “You might be curious to know,” Cutler said, “that Gideon called me yesterday. He told me he no longer wants to be kept in the loop. He’s washed his hands of any involvement with Megan Haskell.”

  “A wise choice,” Lara said, smiling inwardly. “Eventually the police will find the killer anyway. At least I assume they will.”

  Cutler’s eye twitched at the jab. “You assume correctly, Lara. The cause of Chancer’s death—especially if it was murder—will not go unsolved.”

  If it was murder? Was he hedging?

  “Good.” Lara started toward the driver’s side door, then paused. “By the way, Lieutenant, is it true there was a note found near the deceased?”

  Cutler’s mouth opened. “What?”

  “Was there a note found near Chancer’s body?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Oh dear, I’m afraid I can’t reveal my sources,” she said, as if it pained her to withhold the name. “So, is it true?”

  Chancer moved closer to her. “I’m going to strongly advise you not to breathe a word about that, Miss Caphart. To anyone.”

  Suddenly, it was “Miss Caphart.” Great. Now she’d planted herself on his bad side. She wasn’t even sure he had a good side. Either way, she’d gotten to him.

  “Oh, don’t worry. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a squealer. Bye, Lieutenant. Catch you later!”

  Lara hurried inside her car, locked the doors, and started her engine. She shot a look at her rearview mirror before backing out of her parking space. The last thing she needed was to run over Cutler’s foot in her rush to escape.

  On the drive back to Whisker Jog, her heart refused to stop pounding. Something the lieutenant said about Gideon had stuck in her head. He told me he no longer wants to be kept in the loop. He’s washed his hands of any involvement with Megan Haskell.

  That meant Gideon expected her to do the same. One of the last things he’d said to her was that he wanted them to “reboot.” To go back to the way things were before Megan showed up in town.

  “I can’t, Gideon. I just can’t.” Lara realized she was talking aloud to herself, but it helped her think. “There’s something about this mess with Chancer that’s drawing me to that town. Something I’m supposed to figure out.”

  At least she had a valid excuse for going back to Bakewell. Once her shoes came in, she’d have to return to the bridal salon to pick them up.

  Chapter 19

  Brooke Weston snapped her fortune cookie in half and extracted the printed message. “Those who work hard shall reap rewards,” she read aloud. With a dramatic roll of her big brown eyes, she popped a broken half into her mouth, crunched it between her teeth, and swallowed. “Hey, at least the cookie tastes good. Most of these things taste like cardboard.”

  Lara grinned. “I knew we’d all like them.”

  “Can I take one home for Chris?” Mary Newman asked, referring to her husband. With her smattering of freckles and dark brown hair curled upward into a soft flip, Mary could almost pass for a college student, despite being well into her thirties.

  “Take a bunch,” Lara said. “We have a whole bagful.”

  Mary slid three of the cellophane-wrapped cookies into her book bag. “Thanks!”

  The rousing discussion of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 had ended with a thumbs-up from all four members, though at one point, Brooke’s right thumb had wavered. “The thought of burning books gives me the chills,” she said. “But the book was amazing, so…yes, I give it five stars.”

  Lara removed Munster from her lap, where he’d been purring up a storm, and set him on the floor. She rounded up everyone’s empty teacups and plates and brought them over to the sink.

  “Hey, I’d better run,” Mary said in her lilting voice. “I have a new part-timer in the store, and she panics if I’m gone for more than an hour.” Mary owned a gift shop in downtown Whisker Jog, adjacent to Bowker’s Coffee Stop. Lara had sold several of her watercolors there, and for an excellent price.

  Brooke shoved a strand of her burgundy-tinted hair behind one ear. She jammed the Bradbury book into her book bag, then shrugged on her ski jacket. “Mom’ll be here any minute, so I’
d better hustle, too. I have to finish writing the report I’m doing for Presidents’ Day.”

  “What are you writing about?” Aunt Fran asked her.

  “Everyone had to choose a president and describe a key incident in their life that helped shape their destiny. Either that or choose one of their famous quotes and analyze the meaning. I picked Lincoln. ’Course half the kids in my class picked Lincoln.”

  “That’s an interesting assignment,” Aunt Fran, ever the schoolteacher, said. “It makes you do a little research, and a lot of thinking. Knowing you, Brooke, I’m sure your report will be excellent.”

  Brooke blushed and flashed her a smile. “Thanks, Ms. C.”

  Lara returned to the table with a sponge and swiped it over the stray crumbs. For snacks, Mary had brought mini–chocolate eclairs. They’d all scarfed them down as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

  “So, which did you choose?” Lara asked Brooke. “Key incident or famous quote?”

  “I went with a famous quote. Lincoln had a zillion of them, but the one I picked is ‘You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.’”

  Lara’s hand stopped mid-swipe. She repeated the quote in her head.

  A horn tooted outside in the driveway.

  “See you next week!” Brooke hugged everyone and dashed outside. Mary followed behind her.

  Aunt Fran started to lift Dolce off her lap. “I’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher.”

  “No, you sit,” Lara said with mock sternness. “It’ll only take me a minute to do that.”

  Her aunt smiled and held up both hands. “Fine. No need to twist my arm.”

  Lara finished her cleanup duties and returned to the kitchen table. She knew her aunt was anxious to hear about her trip to Bakewell.

  Beginning with her meeting with Tina Tanaka, Lara told her pretty much everything. She omitted the part about Tina’s spirit cat, and the pinpoints of light on the photos. Tina had told her about Jade in confidence, and Lara respected that. She ended by describing her run-in with Lieutenant Cutler in the parking lot of the Peach Crate.

  “My heavens, you’ve had quite the day,” Aunt Fran said. “You seem to be getting closer to some of the players in Wayne Chancer’s life.” She said it noncommittally, but Lara knew it troubled her.

  “I know,” Lara admitted. “And I can’t say it was totally accidental. I’d be lying if I did.”

  Her aunt sighed. “I’m not trying to pry, but does Gideon know you went to Bakewell today?”

  Lara shook her head. In a way, the question irritated her. She was under no obligation to provide Gideon with her itinerary. “He texted me once, this morning, but that was it. Aunt Fran, I think he’s really mad at me. And with Sherry’s wedding coming up, the timing couldn’t be worse.”

  Aunt Fran pulled Dolce closer. “Lara, tell me honestly. What is it about this, well, matter that’s so important to you?”

  “I wish I could explain it, but I’m not sure myself. It’s not even about Megan anymore. Who, by the way, hasn’t been in touch with me since Monday. And now that I know she probably lied to me, I don’t want to see her ever again.”

  “I, for one, take that as a positive sign,” Aunt Fran said. “You said she has her own lawyer, so let them deal with her situation.”

  A headache was beginning to work its way across Lara’s forehead. She rubbed her fingers over it. “You know what was weird? It was the way Blue curled up against Felicia’s little dog, Lily. I didn’t know if she was trying to tell me something, or if she was only letting me know that Karen was ‘okay,’ so to speak.”

  Aunt Fran smiled. “Or maybe she just liked Lily.”

  “Maybe.” Lara gave her aunt a half-hearted smile. “I read too much into things, don’t I?”

  “Only sometimes,” her aunt said tactfully. “Lara, why don’t you try to get in touch with Gideon. I think you’ll both feel better if you talk things through.”

  But we already talked, and it only made things worse.

  Lara rose from her chair and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You’re probably right. I’ll go into my studio and give him a ring.”

  “What about supper? I’m in the mood for a nice veggie omelet.”

  “Omelets sound great, as long as we add cheese.”

  “Good. I’ll chop up some onions and a sweet red pepper. And I think there’s some corn bread in the freezer.”

  Lara smiled. “I love it when you plan supper.”

  * * * *

  Lara closed the door to her studio, then pulled her cell out of her pocket. She didn’t see any missed calls from Gideon, so she pressed his number.

  “Lara?” His voice sounded perky, and her spirits instantly lifted.

  “Hey, I’ve missed talking to you today.”

  “Yeah, me too. Crazy-busy, as usual. I’m still finishing up some closing documents for tomorrow. Thank God for Marina. Honestly, I don’t know how I ever functioned without her. How was your day?”

  “Busy. Active. I—I went back to Bakewell today. Tina Tanaka called me last night and asked if I’d meet her at the diner there.”

  His tone chilled noticeably. “Tina Tanaka. Isn’t she the woman who was so rude to you at the bridal shop?”

  “She was rude, initially. But she researched me online and decided I was a good guy, not a bad guy.” Lara laughed slightly, but Gideon remained silent. “Anyway, turns out Tina has her own side business making fortune cookies. Sherry’s already ordered some to give out as wedding favors.”

  Gideon’s voice was tight. “How did we go from Tina Tanaka practically throwing you out of the bridal salon to making fortune cookies for Sherry’s wedding? Something isn’t adding up here, Lara. What is it you’re not telling me?”

  This was not going well. Lara couldn’t reveal Tina’s private discussion about her spirit cat, even if he’d be inclined to believe it. She’d promised Tina she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, and she intended to keep that promise.

  “We chatted about a few other things,” Lara said, more quietly now. “She talked a little about Megan—who, she believes, did not kill Chancer. While we were having coffee, the broker who’s selling Tina’s folks’ restaurant came in. He turned out to be Karen Chancer’s dad.”

  Lara could almost hear Gideon slapping his head. For at least a full minute, there was dead silence. “Gid…are you still there?”

  After a long sigh, he said, “Lara, this conversation isn’t getting us anywhere. I’m meeting David for a beer this evening to go over all the ‘best man’ stuff. Maybe you and I should get together tomorrow and settle things once and for all.”

  Settle things once and for all. His words had a note of finality that made Lara’s heart squeeze in her chest. And she hadn’t even gotten to the part about meeting Karen Chancer at the Peach Crate.

  “Okay. Pick a time and place and I’ll be there,” she said, unable to stop the chill from creeping into her own voice.

  “Marina’s working till noon tomorrow,” Gideon said. “Why don’t you come to my office around one?”

  Lara swallowed. “Shall I bring sandwiches?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “Okay, see you then. Love you.”

  Gideon disconnected.

  Lara felt tears push at her eyes. How did things get this bad, this quickly? Only a week before, she’d had the feeling he was going to ask her to marry him.

  She had to hold it together for Sherry and David’s sake, but especially for Sherry’s.

  Barring any last-minute plans with Gideon, she’d planned to work on Amy’s watercolor this evening, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was grateful that her aunt had suggested omelets for dinner. It was an easy meal with minimal cleanup.

  The photo of Amy’s farmhouse rested on the corner of her worktable. She remembered Blue standing on the pictu
re, as if she’d been trying to tell Lara something.

  Lara picked up the picture and examined it. Again, nothing stood out. She turned it over. On the flipside, someone had written in blue ink, February 2011.

  The photo was almost ten years old. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

  Amy had told Lara that she bought the farmhouse in 2018. Why hadn’t she given Lara a more recent photo to work from—one that was taken after she’d moved there?

  Probably because nothing had changed, Lara told herself. And because this particular pic was a perfect depiction of the farmhouse in winter. The prior owner had probably taken the photo when they were putting the property on the market.

  I have to stop reading too much into everything. I have to stop overanalyzing everything I see.

  Lara booted up her tablet and drafted a quick email to Amy. “Hey, it’s only me. I’m just wondering if you want me to work with a more recent photo of your farmhouse. The one you gave me was taken in 2011. Let me know! I’ll have some preliminary sketches for you to look at soon.”

  She signed off and set aside her tablet. Aunt Fran knocked lightly on her door, then poked her head in. “Ready for dinner?”

  “Oh!” Lara glanced at her watch. It was five forty-five. “Yeah, but why didn’t you wait for me to help?”

  Her aunt smiled. “Nothing to help with. Took me ten minutes to throw it all together. Come on in the kitchen before your omelet gets cold.”

  Over fluffy omelets and buttered corn bread, they chatted about Sherry’s upcoming wedding. Aunt Fran had bought a dress—a knee-length forest-green chiffon to complement her eyes—and a pair of matching heels. Police Chief Jerry Whitley would accompany her to the wedding. Their relationship had grown closer than ever, despite the chief’s mild aversion to cats.

  Lara avoided any mention of Gideon. She didn’t want her aunt to know how abruptly he’d ended their phone call. When Aunt Fran finally asked about him, Lara told her only that she was meeting him at his office the next day, to talk.

  “Talking is good,” was all her aunt had to offer.