What the Cat Saw (29 page)

H
ollis Blair’s face crinkled in thought. He looked bemused, interested, finally eager. “Blythe’s got a good idea. And she’s smart to send you around to ask. You know, she’s a nice person but even people who have known her for years find her a little daunting. She’s been swell to me. And like she said to me, just because the necklace was in Abby’s office, it doesn’t mean Abby had anything to do with any of it. I know that Blythe had to call the police when she got that letter.”

He gave Nela an appealing smile and his eyes were warm and appreciative. His lopsided grin had aw-shucks charm. He was a big, handsome, rawboned guy. Consciously or unconsciously, he made any woman aware that she was a woman. Nela suspected he had been charming women since the day he went to kindergarten and he had probably discovered that intense looks and an air of total focus paid huge dividends.

“At least Blythe hasn’t blamed me for everything that’s happened.” His relief was obvious, then he looked discouraged. “Everything started so well here at Haklo, then things began to fall apart. But let me think about that last Friday.” His brows drew down. He shook his head. “I talked to Marian that morning. She was quite pleasant. I didn’t see her that afternoon. But I can tell you one thing.” He was forceful. “The idea that Abby would hurt anyone is crazy. Absolutely crazy. As for that damned necklace, somebody put it in her desk.”

“Why?”

Hollis stared at her. “How would I know? To get rid of it? Abby spends a lot of time up in the artifact room. Her office is often empty. Just like those letters. It was easy to use her computer.”

“You don’t think someone chose Abby’s desk for a particular reason?”

“I don’t know why anyone would be ugly to Abby.” But there was an uneasy look in his eyes.

L
ouise Spear’s eyes widened in surprise. “Blythe said you could ask questions?”

Nela stood a few feet from Louise’s desk. “When I explained my background, she agreed that I might be able to find out something useful about Marian’s last week. The police now know that Marian had possession of the necklace when she died. The police believe she threatened the thief and that’s why she was killed.” As she spoke, she sensed the same change in perception that she’d felt in Blythe’s office. To Louise, Nela was no longer simply a pleasant replacement for a flighty young assistant. It was a reminder of how easily people made assumptions about worth based on a level of employment. Nela hoped that she’d never simply relegate people to the guy who parks the car or the girl who does nails or the frail inhabitant of a nursing home. It didn’t matter what people did or where they came from or their accent. Either everyone was important or no one was important. Steve would agree. The quick thought surprised her, pleased her.

“That’s the week the necklace disappeared.” Louise looked sick. “And then Marian died. That awful necklace.”

“Do you have any idea when she might have discovered the thief?”

Louise slowly shook her head. “She was upset when the necklace was stolen. But Friday morning, she seemed more her usual self. She was busy making plans for the donor dinner. That was very
special to her. She was looking ahead…” Louise shivered. Her face drooped with sadness.

Nela knew every word was painful for Louise. She hated to make her remember, but Marian was dead and beyond help, Abby was alive and needed help, and she and Chloe were still on the cold-eyed detective’s list. “Did you see her Friday afternoon?”

Louise sighed. “The last time I saw Marian was Friday morning. She was cheerful, making lists, thinking of a speaker. She loved planning the dinner. Tables are set up in the rotunda. She always had the portrait of Webster that hangs in her office placed on an easel between the twin stairways. She never said so, but I think to her it was as if he were there. She always opened the evening with a recording from one of his last speeches. It’s a very big event. It won’t be the same without Marian.”

Louise’s description of Marian’s last week tallied with Rosalind’s. Nela felt convinced that she was on the right track. Marian had been upset by the theft of the necklace, but the next day she was her usual, competent, businesslike self until that afternoon. Nela knew without question that Marian had been in possession of the stolen necklace when she died. Had she found the necklace Friday afternoon?

Louise fingered the ruffled collar of her pink blouse. “What did Blythe say about Abby?”

“We didn’t talk about her. I think Blythe agreed that it was important to try and discover how Marian knew who took the necklace.”

“The necklace…I’ve tried and tried to understand.” Louise’s expression was drawn and weary. “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem and it’s easy”—her voice dragged—“to think you know something. But we can’t get around the fact that the necklace was found in Abby’s office. Abby either hid it there or someone put it there to get her in trouble.” She looked away from Nela, her face
tight. “She shouldn’t have been there. But I saw her…” She sat up straighter, looked at Nela with a suddenly focused gaze. “It’s good that Blythe asked you to help. That makes me feel much better. Maybe things will get sorted out after all.”

Nela looked at her sharply. “Who did you see? Who shouldn’t have been where?”

Louise looked uncomfortable. “That doesn’t matter. It’s easy to be wrong about things, isn’t it? Besides, having you talk to everyone makes everything better. I’m not as worried now.” She reached for the phone. “I must make some calls about the dinner.”

Nela had been dismissed. She stood in the hall for a moment, heard Louise’s voice. “Father Edmonds, I was wondering if you would do the invocation…”

As Nela walked away, she puzzled over Louise’s disjointed comments. They’d been talking about Abby. Had Louise seen Abby somewhere that surprised her? Why was Louise relieved that Nela was asking questions? That fact had lifted Louise’s spirits, which seemed odd and inexplicable.

A
bby’s office was empty. Nela took the back stairs to the second-floor west wing. As she’d expected, she found Abby in the long room with trestle tables where donations and artifacts were sorted and examined and exhibits prepared to be sent to schools around the state.

At the sound of Nela’s steps, Abby looked up from a back table that held an assortment of Indian war clubs. Abby held a club with an elongated stone head. Some of the clubs were topped with ball-shaped polished stones, others with sharp metal blades, one with sharp-tipped buffalo horns. Propped against the wall behind Abby
was a long board upon which she was mounting the clubs along with short printed annotations denoting the origin and tribe.

Abby watched, eyes wide, body stiff, as Nela crossed the room. As soon as Nela mentioned that Friday afternoon, Abby relaxed.

“I was working up here that day.” She sounded relieved. “I don’t think I ever saw Marian on Friday. Why does that matter?”

“She was upset Friday afternoon. I think she discovered the identity of the thief. She came to the west wing.”

Abby spoke sharply. “She didn’t come up here. I don’t know what she did.”

F
riday afternoon?” There was a curious tone in Grace Webster’s throaty voice. Even in a plaid wool shirt and jeans and boots, she reflected high gloss, Western casual at an exorbitant price. “You’re here at Blythe’s direction? That’s interesting.” She looked past Nela, seemed to focus her gaze on the jarring sculpture with its strange components. Grace’s face had the hooded look of a woman studying her cards and not liking the hand she held.

The silence between them seemed to stretch and expand.

Nela said quietly, “If you saw Marian—”

“I didn’t.” Her gaze moved from the sculpture to Nela. “I don’t think we will ever know what happened with the necklace. In any event, it’s now back. Sometimes”—and Nela wasn’t sure whether there was warning or threat in Grace’s eyes—“it’s safer not to know.”

P
ink stained Cole Hamilton’s cheeks. “Things have come to a sad state when Blythe sends an outsider to ask questions. I don’t believe any of this is true about Marian. Whoever took that
necklace was just trying to make trouble for the foundation. It’s been one thing after another ever since that girl’s car was set on fire. I know what’s behind that.” His tone was sage. “She was too pretty.” He was emphatic. “Too many pretty girls always causes trouble. I knew when Louise hired that girl that there would be trouble. Not that she didn’t behave herself. But every man here, except those of us who know how to be gentlemen, couldn’t take their eyes off of her. And before we turn around, there’s another pretty girl and this one’s obviously an old friend”—there was more than a hint of innuendo in his tone—“of Hollis’s. Erik knew better than to hire pretty girls. But nothing’s been the same, not since that bumptious young man took over. Why, he’s barely thirty. As for that necklace, no one took it to sell or it wouldn’t still be around. And that pretty young woman may have the brains of a feather but even she wouldn’t be foolish enough to keep the thing in her office. It was just more troublemaking. How would Marian know anything about that? The whole idea’s nonsense. Mark my words, someone took the necklace and put it in Abby’s office to stir up more trouble. And it has, hasn’t it?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Marian’s fall was an accident and that’s all there is to it.”

R
obbie’s young-old face congealed into a hard, tight mask. “If anyone’s asking questions, it should be me.”

“Miss Webster said she was sure everyone would cooperate.” Nela stared at him. “Do you object to telling me if you saw Marian that Friday afternoon?”

His green eyes shifted away, fastened on the penholder on his desk, a red ceramic frog with bulging eyes. “I caught a glimpse of her in the main rotunda that afternoon.” He frowned. “I’d been
down in the library. Erik was doing some research. He often comes in the afternoons. I was on my way to the stairs. Back upstairs. Marian came in from the courtyard. She didn’t look as though her thoughts were pleasant. So I walked faster. I didn’t want to talk to her when she was in that kind of mood.”

“Mood?”

“I’d seen Marian in her destroyer mode before when something threatened her precious Haklo. I didn’t know what had raised her hackles, but I knew it was a good time to keep my distance.”

Nela thought he was telling the truth. But was he describing Marian’s demeanor because he was well aware that Rosalind, too, would have seen Marian’s obvious displeasure? Maybe he was telling the truth because he felt he had no choice.

N
ela walked swiftly from Robbie’s office to the stairway. She still needed to speak with Francis Garth and Peter Owens, but she wanted to see the library first. In the library, Nela stopped in the doorway.

Erik Judd sat at one of the writing tables, papers spread out around him. He had the look of a man whose mind is deeply engaged.

She glanced from him to a French window opposite the doorway that opened into the courtyard. If he lifted his head, he would have a view of the central portion of the courtyard.

“Excuse me.”

He looked up at her, blinked, nodded in recognition. “Miss Farley. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but may I ask you a question?” Since he no longer worked for the foundation, he was under no compulsion to answer simply because Blythe had authorized Nela to speak
to staff. “I’m trying to find out more about Marian’s last afternoon here. I will report what I learn to Blythe Webster.”

He squinted from beneath his thick silver brows. “I see. Blythe is hoping someone might have information that will be useful to the police. Certainly, I will help if I can.”

Erik didn’t sound worried. But the mind behind the darkness at Haklo would always keep emotion in check.

“Mr. Judd, did you see Marian in the courtyard?”

There was a thoughtful pause. Finally, he spoke. “I had a brief glimpse. I’d been shelving books. When I turned to go back to the table, I saw her.”

Nela knew one question had been answered. The library door had been open and Erik had glanced outside.

“She was hurrying up the center path toward the main hall. That’s all I saw. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Hurrying?”

“Moving with a purpose, I’d say.” He frowned. “I thought something had happened to upset her.”

F
rancis Garth’s size made everything in his office seem smaller, the desk, the chairs, even the framed replica of the Seal of the Osage Nation on the wall to his right. Now he stared at Nela, elbows on the bare desktop, heavy chin resting on massive interlaced fingers. He was silent after she finished, his gaze thoughtful. He slowly eased back and the chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. “I don’t think it is wise”—his voice was as heavy as his body—“to draw too many conclusions from a single glimpse of Marian on that Friday.”

Nela persisted. “Marian Grant came inside the rotunda from the courtyard Friday afternoon and she was visibly upset.”

Francis stared from beneath thick black brows. “Why?”

Nela shook her head. “I don’t know. But everyone who saw her after that moment describes her as grim or upset.”

Francis bent his big head forward. Finally, he lifted his chin. “I don’t lie. But remember that truth can be misleading. I was checking on a matter with Louise, I think it was shortly after three o’clock. When I stepped out into the hall, Marian was coming out of Abby Andrews’s office. She was”—he chose his words carefully—“deeply in thought. She moved past me without speaking.” A pause. “I don’t think she saw me.”

P
eter pushed his horn-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. As Nela finished, he shook his head. “I didn’t see Marian Friday afternoon.” He spoke absently, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Nela had done enough interviews to know when some nugget of information was almost within reach. Peter might not know about Friday afternoon. He knew something and was debating whether to speak.

“If you know anything that could help, please tell me.”

He took off his glasses. He dangled the frames from one bony hand. “Ever since we found out that somebody killed Marian, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened. I don’t know anything about Marian that last Friday, but this fall she did something out of character.”