Fat Cat Takes The Cake

When Chase went out front so Inger could have lunch, she saw a few lazy flakes circling toward the pavement outside. She hadn’t checked a weather report for days, but Mallory assured her that several inches were expected. Chase had filled a watering can in the kitchen and bent to water the poinsettias. Their leaves had started to curl slightly, so they should welcome a drink. She hoped they would stay pretty until Christmas.

“If it starts accumulating, we’ll send you home,” Chase said, looking out the windows again. “You and Inger. There’s no reason for you to have to battle the roads before they’re plowed.”

Mallory gave her a grateful smile. She had been smiling at the customers more, but Chase thought she forgot about it sometimes, especially when she was rushed and got harried.

A woman in a bright red cloth coat came in and stomped the flakes off her shiny black boots. Her nose and cheeks were almost as red as her coat. Black curly hair framed her round face. After she’d perused the goods in the case and picked out a mix of Lemon and Peanut Butter Fudge Bars, she struck up a conversation with Mallory, who had greeted the woman with a friendly smile that had been returned. Chase nodded to herself when she saw that.

“I’m so glad I found this place. We’re entertaining tonight and Van wanted a nice dessert.”

“How did you hear about us?” Mallory asked.

Chase was listening in, curious about the mention of “Van.” Was she the principal’s wife? This woman was the only customer in the store at the moment, so Chase helped bag her choices.

“I found you online,” she said. “I searched for desserts and your webpage popped up. It’s so attractive and the pictures look delicious.”

“I’ll have to let our web designer know,” Chase said. She would also let Anna know that the efforts she’d been against were paying off.

Anna hurried into the salesroom with some filled boxes to restock the dwindling supplies on the round tables.

“My husband wants to make a good impression tonight. It’s for a job.”

Chase snuck a peek at her credit card when she handed it over the counter to Mallory. Sure enough, her last name was Snelson. “Are you related to Van Snelson?” Chase asked.

She nodded, beaming with a proud smile.

“He was my principal at Hammond High,” Chase said. “I saw him at the reunion last weekend. Were you there?”

“No, no, I didn’t go. He said he would be busy talking to important people.” She frowned to emphasize how important those people were.

“He spent a lot of time with Mr. Hail, the real estate developer.”

“Yes, yes.” She brightened. “Van is going into real estate. Langton Hail has been advising him. Langton knows a lot about it. In fact, they spent the rest of the night together and Van didn’t come home until the next morning.”

Hm, that wasn’t exactly the story she had told the detective. “Is he going to resign as principal?” Chase asked.

“Oh my.” The woman’s hand flew to her cherry-red cheek. “That’s not . . . I’m not . . . He hasn’t announced anything yet.”

Anna gave Mrs. Snelson a curious glance, then retreated to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” Chase said. “I won’t tell anyone.” Except Detective Olson.

Mrs. Snelson signed the bill and took the bag Mallory handed to her. “These will be perfect. They’ll love them. I’ll be buying more soon.” She left with a cheery wave, her faux pas forgotten.

The snow was coming down thicker and the wind was picking up, swirling the flakes in mad, intricate, dizzying patterns.

Chase wished she could see a pattern that led to the real killer of Ron North.

SIXTEEN

In the next hour, so much snow fell that the street blended with the sidewalk, the curbs lost beneath the fluff. Chase and Anna sent Mallory and Inger home while the roads were still passable.

Chase flipped the sign on the front door to “Closed” and went into the kitchen. Inger was in the act of closing the outside door and Chase shivered from the gust that had come into the warm kitchen. “Anna,” she said, “you’d better go home, too.”

“Let me finish getting this—”

“No, let me finish. You need to get. Come here.”

Chase motioned her to the back door. Anna put down the flour bin she’d been about to shelve. Chase shoved the door open, moving a drift about five inches high. The wind was picking up, the snow was falling faster, and the parking lot, as well as the cars, held two to four inches.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anna said. “You’re right. This is going to amount to something.” She abandoned the cleaning-up, wrapped herself in her winter clothes, and scooted out the door.

“Call me when you get home,” Chase shouted to her departing back. Anna was a careful driver, but you never knew when someone else was going to careen into you and send your car spinning.

“I will!” Anna waved as she swiped the snow off her windshield with her gloved hand. She slipped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and the heater, and got out again. Chase watched her clear the back and side windows, then get inside again and drive away.