Fat Cat Takes The Cake

“Yes. He was at the . . . Yes, he’s been there forever.” She stopped talking, not wanting to mention the sore subject of the reunion.

“She mentioned that. She said he’s having trouble adjusting to the dog.”

Mike warmed her heart with his smile and topped off her wineglass with the Chianti Reserva he had selected. Its full-bodied taste was perfect with the robust Italian flavors. The candle on the table flickered and danced, helping create an intimate space where only the two of them and the table of delicious food existed.

“What does that mean? Have they never had a dog before? I don’t think they ever had children.” She forked another piece of lasagna. Yum.

Mike swirled some of his spaghetti carbonara, but didn’t take a bite. “Sounded like he might be allergic. She hasn’t had him long. He’s a tiny lap dog, teacup Chihuahua.”

“Is he cute?”

Mike shrugged and took his bite. After a bit he said, “I prefer more natural breeds. This one is neurotic.”

Chase thought a lot of Chihuahuas were neurotic. “Can you be allergic to such a tiny dog?”

“Sure. Size doesn’t matter. What got me, though, was what she was saying to me, as a perfect stranger. She brought up your reunion and how awful the murder was. Then she repeated, several times, that her husband and a business colleague were together at her house all night, so they couldn’t possibly have known anything about the killing.”

“Why would she talk about that with you?”

“The more she went on, the more I thought she was trying to convince me. And, I should add, the more I thought she was lying. Why she would need to tell me this, I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” Chase said, “she was rehearsing her story for the police.”

FIFTEEN

“Detective Olson, please.” Chase had called the station Saturday morning after the homicide detective didn’t answer his cell phone. She heard her back door opening. A minute later Anna called up the stairs that she was here. Chase ran to the top of the stairs and motioned to her that she was on the phone. Anna nodded and proceeded into the kitchen. Quincy slipped down the stairs. She would have to make sure he got into the office before they opened for business.

“Yes?”

She tried to detect his mood from that single word. He didn’t seem angry or abrupt this time. The receptionist probably told him who was calling, so that must have meant she wasn’t on his bad side at the moment.

“I talked with my friend Dr. Ramos last night. He told me that Mrs. Snelson, who owns a little tiny dog, was talking to him about her husband being with Langton Hail all night after the reunion.”

“Yes, that’s also what she told us.”

“Well, don’t you think that’s odd?”

“It’s odd that a married couple has a friend over? No, I don’t think so. Why would you?”

“But all night? It’s not something people go around saying. She’s, well, she’s protesting too much. Know what I mean?”

“Yes, I’ve read Shakespeare.” He was silent for a moment. She heard Anna humming the chorus of “Dancing Through Life” from Wicked in the kitchen as she waltzed, Chase was sure, from counter to stove to refrigerator.

“Okay, Chase,” Niles Olson said. “I agree it’s a strange thing to talk about. How well does she know Dr. Ramos?”

“Not at all. She’s a brand-new customer at his clinic.”

“I’ll make a note. Thanks for calling.”

That was a tiny bit of progress, Chase thought. There must be a guilty secret there, some fire under the smoke. It made some sense that, if Hail were too drunk to drive, he might go home with Snelson, since he lived close to the school. She needed to think this through. Later.

Right now, she needed to get to work. It was Saturday, with only a week and a half to go before Christmas. The closer the holidays got, the more people craved sweets.