The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery) (15 page)

“What is going on? Make it good.”

“She was going to kill them. I told you.” Kev staggered to his feet. I closeted the dogs in the antique shop and returned with a roll of paper towels. I handed Kev a sheet of paper towel to staunch the bleeding. From behind the shop door the dogs set up a chorus of complaints.

“Who was—Oh. Muriel? She was going to kill the cats? Really?” Now why was that so hard to believe? I had no trouble suspecting her of doing Vera out of her property and perhaps her life. I was certain that Muriel was behind her stepfather’s killing and the hit-and-run attack on me. But who would hurt a cat? Would Muriel do that?

“Really. She was. She is. She was about to feed the kitties poison. I spotted her putting rat poison on their food when the signora wasn’t watching and Vera wasn’t around.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“That would be a terrible way to go. Poor cats,” I said. As my feet and ankles were safely off the floor and tucked up with the rest of me on the sofa, I could afford to attract their attention.

“No kidding.”

“But they didn’t eat it?”

“No. I phoned her cell phone number and she went to see who it was. I grabbed the cats and put them in the Caddy.”

I should actually have figured that out by the scratches on Kev’s hands.

“And how did you explain their disappearance?”

“I pretended that they had dashed by me and run away.”

“As if they would do that!”

“They would if they were chasing those wild turkeys.”

“Good Cat and Bad Cat are spoiled indoor pets. Those turkeys would eat them for breakfast.”

“I don’t think Muriel knows anything about cats. She believed me.”

“She doesn’t know much about turkeys either, I guess.”

“What did you do with the poisoned food?”

“I dumped it in a bag and got rid of it.”

“Where did you put it, Kev?” This would be one of those Kev loose ends that could cause grief down the road. “The dogs could eat it, if they come across it.”

“It’s not here, of course. What do you think I am?”

I didn’t answer. No point in hurting his feelings. But I made a note to find out.

“And she didn’t figure it out?”

He shook his head. “She thinks they ate it all.”

“They never eat all their food.”

“You know that. I know that. Vera knows that. But Muriel didn’t. She hates the cats and she never goes near them.”

“I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Won’t she wonder why they didn’t come back?”

“I offered to ‘look for them’ and she said not to worry about it. They’d return when they felt like it. She said that we shouldn’t pamper them.”

“Bit late for that,” I muttered.

There was a yowl from under the sofa.

I added, “So she thinks they’re out there, dying from the poison in the woods or something?”

Kev nodded. “Yeah.”

“Vera is going to be devastated. Oh. Do you think that’s why Muriel did it?”

“Poisoned the cats?”

“Yes, Kev. Poisoned the cats. That
is
the topic of our conversation.”

“She might have done it for that reason. Vera loves them and it would hurt and distress her.”

“Exactly, and Muriel would enjoy that or use it to her advantage. It would lower Vera’s resistance even more.”

“Or she might have done it because she got a scratch or two.”

“I know how that feels.”

Kev said, “Quite a few actually. From Bad Cat. Ankles.”

“Well, Muriel brought it on herself. She moved into their home and upset their lives. Who can blame Bad Cat for scratching her?”

“Sure, but it could have gotten them killed. Maybe it still could.” Kevin was still white-faced and almost trembling.

“She won’t find them here tonight, Kev. I doubt if even Muriel would storm this place seeking revenge because you saved the cats’ lives.”

“Did you think she’d have you run down by a truck?”

Sometimes Kev hits the nail on the head. I said, “You’re right. We have to make sure that she doesn’t know they’re here. Or alive at all. We’ll find a better place for them in the morning. You should make sure that she doesn’t catch sight of your sweater. It’s covered with cat hair.”

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t avoid it. Even though I was saving their lives, they put up a lot of resistance.”

“No need to tell me about it. I know what they’re like. And as for the scratches on your hands and arms, how will you explain those?”

“I’ll think of something. Maybe I can say I was stung by bees.”

“It is getting close to the end of November, Kev.”

His face brightened. “I know. I’ll say I was checking for the kitties in the yew hedge at the back of the property and I got scratched by the needles.”

“That could work. If you don’t complicate the story too much. Remember the rules for lying.”

Kev went back to his hurt expression again. “I’ll put some bandages on and tell them that story before anyone asks about the scratches and I’ll ask Fiammetta for some ointment or something. She’ll have a cure.”

“Right. Probably something involving food and possibly alcohol. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Better idea!” Kev jumped to his feet.

I waited, and finally said, “What is it then, Kev, this better idea?”

“Turkeys! They’re vicious. Muriel is afraid of them. She’ll fall for it hook, line and sinker.”

People falling for things hook, line and sinker is a favorite thing in our family.

“Why not,” I said. “No worse than any of the other ideas. I’ll get you some bandages. Because anyone with a brain in their head would not think these were turkey scratches.”

When I returned with five bandages for Kev’s hands and arms, he slipped into a morose mood. “The signora is really upset about the kitties. Maybe I should tell her the truth.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t want the signora to be unhappy, but if she thought the cats were alive she would never be able to contain her jubilation. I imagined her round little body spinning with joy. Muriel might catch on and Vera certainly would.

“That’s kind, but a bad idea, Kev. You really should wait. It’s awful, I know. But the signora’s not the best one to keep her feelings hidden. Then Vera would figure it out. Of course, that could be a good thing. If Vera knew this, maybe she’d turf Muriel out of the house and we could all go back to normal.” I thought about it. “On the other hand, we don’t really know what hold Muriel has over Vera. Shouldn’t take a chance.”

“This is a nightmare,” Kev said. “But at least you can keep them safe here until this is over.”

“What? The cats can’t stay here after tonight. Are you serious?”

“Where else could they stay?”

“Well, it can’t be here. You saw how the dogs reacted.”

“Lots of dogs are friends with cats. These guys have visited Van Alst House. They should be used to the idea of the kitties.”

I was tired of biting my lip. I rubbed my temple. “That isn’t likely to happen in this case. Either a cat will be hurt or a dog will be hurt.”

“But,” Kev said, “they can’t go back home. Muriel’s going to kill them.” Or an uncle will be hurt.

“If she knows you know, then—”

“No, Jordan. If she knows I know, then she’ll know I saved them and then I’ll be gone and who will be there to keep an eye on Vera and the signora? They have to stay here.”

“There must be more than two places for cats in this world,” I said reasonably.

“Name them.”

I thought fast. Normally, I’d rely on Lance and Tiff. But they were incommunicado. I briefly pictured them riding a unicorn together on a rainbow. Okay, maybe I’d spent a bit too much time in the pink pony room. Back to the cats. Even if Mick and Lucky were around, the dogs were already in their homes, so that wouldn’t work. Karen no longer had her own place.

It was obvious that I needed some new friends. Or some old friends to step up.

Kev said, nervously, “Whatever you decide, they can’t go to the pound.”

“Never in a million years,” I said. “There has to be a better way. Hey, what about Cherie? I’m seeing her later tomorrow, although I guess that means today. She’s always up for a challenge and—”

“Um. She has met them and it did not go well.”

“Right.” Of course, it didn’t. What was I thinking?

In the end, we agreed to confine the dogs to Uncle Mick’s side of the building, where coincidentally, my room was. The cats had been enticed into Uncle Lucky’s living room downstairs as well as his bedroom and bathroom upstairs. After five minutes, they were the newly established rulers of Lucky’s kingdom.

I was back in the kitchen, having given over Lucky and Karen’s comfy living room to the cats. I would have been happy to take Good Cat with me, but the dogs remembered Bad Cat and I didn’t think that would lead to a happy ending. So I kept the door closed to the new cat area. Walter and Cobain were parked next to it, sniffing. Walter did an excited little dance, snuffling. I took that to mean:
Just let me at those cats! They’ll make a good snack.
Cobain began to whine. I took that to mean:
It’s the end of the world as we know it. The cats are massing and we are doomed.

They had my sympathy. I felt like whining too.

Of course, it seemed almost cartoonish, this situation, but it wasn’t. Muriel was evil enough to try to poison the cats for whatever reason. Maybe there was no reason at all, a cruel woman who enjoyed spreading misery. Born bad.

My fears for Vera grew.

*   *   *

I HUSTLED ABOUT
getting food for a pair of pooches who had apparently not been fed for years, if their early-morning performance was anything to go by. If I hadn’t given them a regular supply of food and treats, I might have fallen for it.

Meanwhile over in Cat City, the Siamese were getting restless. I wasn’t sure if they were actually hungry, as they would consider it beneath them to reveal that. I did get the sense that they’d like to get over to the dog side of the dwelling and give Walter and Cobain a few things to think about. I needed to make sure that didn’t happen. Once the dogs were falling into their dishes, I took the small container of special cat food that Kevin had left with me, found two small bowls and made my way to Uncle Lucky and Karen’s quarters. I put my high boots on first and my leather gloves. If I’d owned a goalie’s mask, I might have worn that too.

The dogs and I escaped the feeding of the felines without incident, except for a minor scratch on my forearm. I was sure it would heal in time. I got the heck out of there. Somehow my investigation into the shadowy drivers of the red (formerly green) truck seemed a lot less dangerous than hanging around my uncles’ house while the cats prepared for war. You could almost hear the distant drums.

After the care and feeding of cute but needy animals, it was time to make some progress. I decided to head over to Maple Street to talk to Audra and the Snows. I chose not to let them know ahead of time, not wanting anything to impede that progress.

Mindy and Tom were home and seemed happy to see me, although Tom said he didn’t think I should be out and about so soon.

Mindy said, “Shhh. The poor thing must be stir-crazy.”

Tom redeemed himself by saying that Mindy had just finished baking a couple of apple pies. Of course, I’d been well aware of that from the moment I approached the front door. As breakfast had been fast and furious and not that great, pies sounded perfect.

“I like to have a few in the freezer for emergencies,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’ll make the pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving.”

I beamed at her.

Tom said, “Mindy always likes to test the first pie to see if it’s all right.”

That sounded good to me. “Happy to help.”

We resumed our places around the small pine table. As Mindy served up the pie (which smelled out of this world), she asked if I wanted ice cream with it.

You bet I did.
Try and match that, Archie Goodwin
, I thought.

Once all the pleasantries, concerns for my well-being and serving were taken care of, I said, “I’d like to talk to you about the truck that hit me.”

They both nodded earnestly.

“Did you both see it?”

Mindy said, “Tom did. I was behind him but not quite out the door when it happened.”

Tom said. “It was a blur but I saw it all right.”

“Great. What color was it?”

Mindy rolled her eyes, for the first time on this visit.

Tom looked sheepish.

Mindy said, “You’re asking the wrong person.”

“But I thought you said you were still in the house?”

“I was. The color-blind person was outside.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” Tom said. “I only see shades.”

I said, “But red and green, would they be quite different, um, shades?”

“Not really.”

Mindy said, “It’s quite common in men. Of course, they don’t like to let on.”

“All right, then, that’s not too serious. Did you notice any writing on the side of the vehicle?”

“Everything happened so fast. I wasn’t really paying attention to the truck. I was waving good-bye to you when all of a sudden it shot down the street, hit you and you went flying.”

“Right into the leaves,” Mindy said. “That’s when I walked out the door.”

“Okay.”

Tom said, “I’m not much of a witness. I don’t notice details.”

“Would you recognize the driver?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t even see anyone. The police asked the same thing. I feel really bad, like I’m letting you down.”

“You are not letting me down. I really appreciate that you were there for me. You made sure I got help. And you raked your leaves like a good citizen and that saved my life. This apple pie’s a lifesaver too, Mindy.”

I figured Archie would have been proud of my schtick, although I have to admit, it was sincere.

I was sent off to talk to Audra with a pie for her family and one for me to take home. Tom came with me to Audra’s and he waited while I tucked my apple pie in the Saab first. I figured he was making sure I didn’t get zapped by any red or green trucks this time.

T
HINGS
WEREN
’
T
QUITE
as serene in Audra’s home. Even though it was only midmorning, Audra’s hair had escaped her ponytail and she had a collection of mismatched stains on her shirt. The children were peevish. Nap time perhaps.

“I won’t take long,” I said. “I can see that you’re busy.”

She smiled. “It’s always busy.”

“First, I wanted to apologize for misleading you.”

She nodded. “I understand from Tom and Mindy that you were avoiding some dangerous people.”

“Not well enough apparently,” I said with a sheepish grin. “But I’d also like to ask a quick question: Do you remember the truck that hit me?”

She stared. “Yes.”

I nodded encouragingly. “I’m looking for details. There was lettering, I believe. What did it say?”

She said, “Shouldn’t you be, um, I don’t know, letting it go?”

“I am trying to identify that truck because I think it’s linked to two other incidents.” Of course, I meant Muriel’s arrival and her stepfather’s death. That reminded me: I had forgotten to ask Mindy and Tom about Pete. I’d have to go back and have another slice of pie and information.

I smiled at Audra.

She didn’t smile back. “I told the police everything.”

“I appreciate that, and thank you for calling 911 and for calling my uncle for me.”

“Anyone would do that.”

“Maybe, but I’m still grateful.”

She gazed at me with exasperation. “The police should take care of this. My husband has told me not to talk about it, in case we are vulnerable.”

I was a little taken aback by her attitude. People are not usually exasperated with me. It gave me a sense of what it was like to be Uncle Kev.

She said, “I have children to think about.”

“Oh. Sorry. Of course, you have to be careful. But as you’ve already told the police what you saw, it shouldn’t endanger your adorable children if you describe the truck. I’m not going after those guys, you know.”

Cross your fingers
, Archie whispered.

I said, “I don’t have much faith in the cops and I can’t remember anything, so I also am pretty vulnerable. They know what I look like but I don’t even know what color truck to avoid.”

Heavy-handed, but it worked.

She nodded slowly. “It was red. I don’t remember what was written on it. And if you’re going to ask me if I would recognize them, the answer’s no.”

“Them? There was more than one?”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No need, then. I’ll take that as two men in a red truck.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She clutched her green-eyed, curly-haired toddler in her arms.

Wow. She was really rattled. But I knew more now than when I came in. I gave her a break. “So you wouldn’t recognize them because it all happened so fast.”

She sagged in relief and nodded. I knew that was not true. But the time wasn’t right to push it. I really didn’t want this kind, lovely woman to be distressed. I had enough to go on at this point.

I headed back to the Snows’. I did check over my shoulder in case a truck was hurtling toward me, but the coast was clear. I picked up the pace anyway. I had a lot to do before we got to the bottom of this Muriel Delgado business. But I also had an idea to explore and I figured the Snows would be able to help.

“Sorry, Tom,” I said when he opened the door, a quizzical half smile on his face. “I don’t need to come in. I apologize, but I have another question. I forgot to ask you earlier.”

He waved away my apology. “Perfectly understandable under the circumstances.”

Right. Whatever Kev had said those were. I added, “And I forgot to ask you something.” I pointed to my head, still covered with Mick’s fedora. “A bit woozy from that truck incident.”

“Of course.”

“Did Pete Delaney have a life insurance policy?”

He stared at me, shaking his head in bewilderment. Mindy appeared behind him. I repeated my question.

Mindy didn’t hesitate. “Of course, he did. It was a hefty one too. A million dollars. That was a lot of money in the midseventies. More than enough to take care of Carmen as long as she lived, even if she needed private nursing and expensive therapy.”

“Of course, she didn’t live long.”

“No. She lasted just six months after Pete died. To tell the truth, I didn’t expect her to survive as long as she did.”

“She must have been devastated by his death.”

Mindy said, “Devastated? No. Sad, yes. She missed him, of course. But she wasn’t devastated over
his
death. Not like—”

Tom turned to glower at his wife. She lifted her shoulders. What else could she do?

“So she had been devastated over Leonard Van Alst’s death.”

I thought Tom’s eyes were going to bug out of his head.

Mindy said, “Much more so. Come on, Tom. You know it was true. But she got over it in time, more or less, and married Pete.”

“She really cared about Pete,” Tom said with dignity.

“Yes. I think she did, but she was devastated by—”

I said, “I’m sorry to have asked these questions. I don’t really want to cause trouble, but I need to get to the bottom of this. So, after Carmen died, did Muriel also inherit the house?”

“Yes. Muriel got everything, well, what there was. The house and whatever Pete left to Carmie and the insurance of course, all went to her. She sold up and left. She didn’t even say good-bye to anyone. Mindy was good to Carmie. But Muriel didn’t even take time to acknowledge that.”

“You were good to her too.” Mindy put her hand on Tom’s arm.

“Poor girl,” he said, and I knew he didn’t mean Carmen. “But don’t go getting ideas that Muriel did her mother any harm. She didn’t. She adored her mother and she was pretty cut up about Carmen’s death. That was sincere, at least.”

I couldn’t really imagine Muriel being cut up about anyone’s death, but I was willing to accept that she cared for her mother. “And they never found out who hit Pete?”

“No, they didn’t. But it wasn’t Muriel, was it, Mindy?”

“It wasn’t. Some people thought it might have been Muriel, but it turned out she had an airtight alibi.” I could have sworn that Mindy was more than a bit disappointed in that airtight alibi.

“Oh. Interesting. And what was that alibi?”

“We never found out. There was never anything in the papers. We heard that she was with a credible witness. Tom knew someone on the Grandville police force and that’s all he would tell us about the crime. But the investigators believed Muriel and the witness.”

*   *   *

IT WAS AFTERNOON
before Kev called, worrying about “the kitties.” I had to reassure him before I could get the information I needed.

“Kev. The guys with the truck. You said there were a couple of guys.” I whipped out my notebook on the off chance that Kev might come up with something useful.

“Just a couple of guys, Jordie.”

“Close your eyes and think. Were they young?”

I imagined Kev closing his eyes and scrunching up his handsome face. “The young one was.”

Of course, this wasn’t going to be easy. “One was young?”

“Yes, Jordan. The young one.”

I put down the notebook to massage my temple. “How young?”

Kev would be adding a shrug to the scrunching. “Twenties maybe.”

“What was he wearing?”

“The usual.”

I kept calm. “And that was?”

“Jeans, work boots, gray hoodie, over a T-shirt.”

“Okay. Anything special about them?”

“No, just what you’d expect.”

Be cool
, I told myself. “And what would you expect?”

“Bit of mud on the boots, same with the jeans.”

“Any logos?”

“Oh yeah. Metallica on the T-shirt. The hoodie was open. And he had a plaid jacket over it.”

“Was the hood of the hoodie up?”

“No.”

“Wonderful. And what color was his hair?”

“You know, that nothing color of brown.” Kev’s hands would be heading up to stroke his own splendid Kelly ginger hair.

“Light brown?”

“Yeah.”

“Long? Short?”

“Almost not there.”

“You mean bald?”

“The ways some of the young guys buzz their heads. His was due for a fresh buzz, but what was there was kind of brown.”

I wrote down
kind of brown buzz
.

“Tall or short?”

“Depends on what you mean by tall or short.”

Not to be hindered, I said, “Was he taller than you? Close your eyes and think about it.”

“He was. I’m five ten, so maybe six feet.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Now, about the other guy.”

“The other guy?”

I imagined Kev thinking hard with his eyes closed and his mouth open, looking quite deranged.

“Uh-huh. The older one. Listen to me,” I said, to stop the next foolish question. “Let’s talk about him.”

“Okay, you don’t have to be mean, Jordie.”

“What was he wearing? Try to picture him.”

“Let’s see, he was wearing, jeans.”

“And?”

“Work boots.”

“Muddy?”

“Yeah they were, now that you mention it. The signora made them take off their boots when they got to the door. Vera didn’t say anything, but they did what the signora asked. Muriel was really cheesed off about it.”

“Good to know.”

“The kid had on gray work socks and the older guy had red ones.”

I was pretty sure the socks wouldn’t help us much to identify the driver of the red truck and his helper, but I didn’t want to make Kev nervous. He was bad enough when he wasn’t. “Okay, and what else was the older guy wearing?”

“Plaid work jacket over a hoodie. T-shirt underneath.”

“Same rock group?”

“Nah, this was an old band, Steve Miller.”

“All right then. And how old do you think the older guy was?”

“Maybe fifties. I thought he might have been the dad.”

“Hair?”

“Yes.”

“Color? Style?”

“Hard to tell. He was wearing a baseball cap. Wait. It had a logo.”

“Great. What logo?”

“Didn’t mean anything to me. Some letters.
L-S-W
maybe. Or
S-W-L
. Or . . .”

“Keep imagining that and maybe the image will come back to you. So you couldn’t see any hair?”

“A bit curling around his ears. He had curly hair. Gray. Look at that. I’m pretty good at identifying suspects.”

“Amazing, Kev. Now was he tall?”

“No. He was shorter and stocky. Maybe five seven or eight. Muriel towered over him. He was built like a fire plug.”

“Who was driving the truck?

He’d be back to face scrunching. “You know what?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what, Kev.”

“It was the young guy. He was driving.”

“Very good. Now think about the truck.”

“The green truck?”

I had a pretty good idea why Kev had had so much trouble in school. “Yes, the green truck.”

“What about it?”

“What size was it?”

“It was a big pickup.”

“Big how?”

“Big cab, would seat four, I guess.”

“So it wasn’t a cube truck?”

“No. It had a cab on it and a cover.”

“Is that where the trunks and boxes were?”

“Yes.”

“And was there lettering on it?”

“I think there was.”

“We’re getting somewhere. What did the lettering say?”

“Same as the hats.”

I had already written down
L-S-W
and
S-W-L
in the hat description. I drew an arrow from that to the truck info.

“In my limited experience, I’ve found that movers usually have cube trucks or vans, not pickup trucks. Did they look like movers to you, Kev?”

“No.”

“And try to remember the company name of the moving truck.”

“I don’t think it had one.”

I didn’t want to insist that it had, as it would just make Kev worse. “The initials, Kev. Try to remember what they were.”

“Just a jumble, Jordie. Sorry. Can I open my eyes now?”

“Okay, Kev. Open your eyes and tell me one more thing.”

“Sure, Jordie.”

“Do you have any trouble telling red from green?”

“Well, I think everybody does.”

I sighed. “No. Everybody doesn’t. So is there a chance that the truck that delivered Muriel was actually red?”

I waited through the long pause before Kev said, “There might be a chance.”

Better late than never. I said, “Okay, Kev. I’m looking for a red truck. And if you get a flash of any kind of memory about the letters on it, you have to let me know.”

“I will. Absolutely. You know me, Jordie. You can always count on yer Uncle Kev.”

Right.

*   *   *

IT WAS PAST
five o’clock and Sullivan’s was dark and gloomy. Although no one had been smoking there for years, the miasma of old cigarettes still clung to the walls and the worn seating. The tired-looking man behind the bar was polishing glasses. I didn’t hold out much hope for the results from that particular cloth. He seemed to be keeping a sharp eye out on the place.

The clientele was mixed. I spotted hardly any women. A couple of guys in suits sat at one of the wooden tables, heads bent almost together in intense, whispered conversation, but mostly there were working men. Farmers, construction guys, factory workers. I listened to the occasional bellow of laughter and slap on the back. With the exception of mine, most eyes focused on the massive flat screens mounted at each end of the bar. A faraway game of football was somehow fascinating.