Fat Cat Takes The Cake

Chase consulted the weather on her phone. The app predicted six to eight inches. She had been right to send everyone home. She wandered into the front of the store to watch the snow fall. The lights were out inside her shop and, with the snow muffling the sounds from the street, she felt like she was in a cocoon. Quincy settled on top of the glass case, still warm from the lights beneath the glass that had been switched off a short time ago. It was rare for him to be permitted into this part of the shop and he was taking full advantage.

An elderly man passed by, wading through the deepening snow with difficulty. Chase ran to the storage closet and got out the shovel, then pulled on her coat and hat. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and patted her pockets. No gloves. Where were they? They’d been missing for a couple of days now. She dug her old gloves out of her desk drawer, but decided not to use them. They were so full of holes, they would be useless for keeping her hands warm.

When she came in from clearing the sidewalk, she felt virtuous—and cold. Her cheeks were stiff. She made a cup of steaming hot chocolate in the kitchen, as much to thaw her icy hands as to warm her insides.

Maybe everyone was being sent home early. She called Julie on the off chance that she wasn’t still at work. She wanted Julie to go with her on Monday to pay a visit to Dillon. If she wanted to go. Maybe Julie would think visiting Dillon in the hospital was a crazy idea. She didn’t answer. Probably still slaving away at her desk. Julie was too conscientious for her own good. Maybe, when she’d been at the firm longer, and when she didn’t have to worry about being a murder suspect, she would work normal hours.

Two hours later, Chase had made it upstairs and was snuggled with Quincy, watching the snow build up in the lower corners of the window panes in her balcony doors.

“This is exactly like a Christmas card, isn’t it, Quincy?”

He turned his amber eyes on her and blinked.

“You agree, don’t you?”

Traffic had slowed to an occasional vehicle passing by every five or ten minutes. Those without snow tires slid to a slow stop at the corner. All the drivers on the street seemed to have experience with winter conditions. No one slammed on brakes or fishtailed. The scene was as peaceful as a Christmas card, indeed.

Chase’s ringing phone brought her out of her reverie.

“Julie? Are you just getting out?”

Julie breathed heavily into her phone. “Yes. Finally. Jay called Gerrold and he got me out.”

Chase shot up from her chair. “What? Out of where?”

“Wait a sec. I have to help Jay scrape his windows.”

Chase heard sounds of cars and wind through the tiny speaker. Julie was outside. “Call me right back.”

When Julie called, half an hour later, she said she was at home. “I’ve never been happier to get home.”

“What happened? What’s been going on?” Chase had fretted the entire thirty minutes.

“I got a call at work as this snow was starting. Detective Olson told me to come to the station.”

“In this weather?”

“He doesn’t pay attention to weather, apparently.” Julie didn’t sound at all like herself. Her voice was tight and strangled.

“Go on.” Chase couldn’t imagine him being deterred by a simple snowstorm.

“He told me I’m being charged with homicide.” She sobbed on the last word.

Chase gasped. “Ron North?”

“Who else? I wouldn’t say anything to him. I called Jay right away. He had Gerrold Gustafson come by. He had some car trouble, but took a cab and got there in time for my bail hearing. Gerrold got my bail lowered and they released me.”

“Thank goodness! They really think you strangled him in the park?”

“No. He wasn’t killed there. They think he was killed in the high school parking lot, then dumped under the bush where you found him.”

“But why would they zero in on you? Just because it was your scarf?”

“And because I followed Bart out to the parking lot from the reunion.” There was a pause. “And because I told them I wasn’t out there at first.”

“Someone else saw you out there?”

“Only Ron North and Bart Fender. They were arguing about something when I got there.”

“So Bart can tell them you didn’t kill him!”

“Apparently not. The detective says Bart says he left while I was still out there.”

“Where does he say he went?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t notice when he left. I spoke five sentences to Bart, then Ron wouldn’t leave me alone. I was so spitting mad at him. I told them before that I hadn’t seen Ron there, either.”

Julie paused again. Was there even more evidence against her?

“And one more thing. I let slip something about the notebook.”

“How did you do that?” Chase’s heart plummeted. She knew they should have told the detective they had copies.