Fat Cat Takes The Cake

“To think that only last Sunday I was working at Hammond. And there was Mr. Snelson, sound asleep on the couch in his office.” She chuckled.

“He . . . slept in his office after the reunion?”

“I’d say he did. He had on a suit—for sure he slept in it—wrinkled like all get out.” She leaned over the counter to whisper to Chase. “That office was a mess, too. I’d say he and the missus are having problems, wouldn’t you?”

Chase shrugged. There were more likely explanations, she thought. A missus who alibied her husband probably wasn’t kicking him out of the bedroom. Neither of her two versions matched this one. She’d told Chase and Anna that her husband hadn’t come home, but had spent the night with Langton Hail. But she’d told the detective that both men spent the night at her house. She was trying hard to give her husband an alibi, it seemed, but wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Mrs. Cray stood up straight to deliver the details. “He was all embarrassed and got up real quick. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning. His eyes were red and itchy-looking and he’d thrown tissues all over the floor. What a mess. Said he slept in his office all night so no one would break in. Just because they broke into the junior high school across town doesn’t mean he needs to sleep in his office.”

The woman leaned in close again for her next condemnation. “I’ll tell you what. He smelled like liquor, too. That man had been drinking.”

That was true. She’d seen him at the punch bowl getting lacings from Ron North. He’d been embellishing Snelson’s drink as well as Hail’s with the bourbon from his flask. “There was punch at the reunion.”

“There was also a half-empty whiskey bottle on his desk.”

“Mrs. Cray, you should tell Detective Olson about this. About where Mr. Snelson was. He needs this information.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you have to.” She had a thought. “Do you think anyone else spent the night there with him?” Like maybe Langton Hail.

“Oh no, there’s only room for one person to sleep there.”

Chase wrote Detective Olson’s phone number, which she had memorized a long time ago, on the back of Mrs. Cray’s receipt. “Here, please call him. He’s a good guy. Niles Olson. He needs to know this.”

If she didn’t tell him about Snelson’s odd sleeping habits, Chase would.

Bart Fender came in a couple of hours later, while Chase was again in the front room. This time she was giving Inger her lunch break.

“Raspberry Chiffon again?” Chase asked.

“How do you remember that?”

Chase didn’t say that it was stuck in her mind because it seems such a delicate, dainty choice for a high school coach and former wrestler. She shrugged. “I just do. I remember lots of our customers’ favorites.” That part, at least, was true.

“Julie and I are thinking of going to visit Dillon on Monday. Do you think that would be a good idea?” She was putting out a feeler for how conscious the poor woman was.

“So Julie heard what I said. That would be great! She would love it. Hardly anyone comes by. Her family is there a lot, and me, but that’s about it.”

“So she recognizes you?”

He looked away. “I’m not sure. But she reacts when she hears my voice. I think she knows it’s me.”

“She’s not really in a coma?”

He screwed his face up into an angry scowl. “No, she’s not. She’s not in any coma. She’s only asleep.”

Chase guessed that she and Julie would have to go find out for themselves.

As he left, Bart almost plowed over the next woman to enter the shop. It was none other than Mrs. Snelson. Chase wondered if the woman’s ears had been burning earlier when Mrs. Cray and she were talking about her.

“I can take over, Ms. Oliver,” Inger said, coming up behind her. Inger had taken a brief potty break.

“Call me Chase, Inger. I can stay out here a little longer.”

“It’s not that busy. Anna told me to send you to the kitchen. I think she needs some help.”

Chase left, frowning. She would much rather stay in the front and talk to Mrs. Snelson again. There was no graceful way to do it, so back to the kitchen she went.

The center island was stacked with boxes.

“The paper delivery came and I have to stir this caramel,” Anna said. “Could you clear off a space for me to set a couple of baking sheets so I can pour this?”

“I’ll do better than that,” Chase said. “I’ll put them all away.” She got busy stowing the boxes on the lower shelves and the task was done in a few minutes. She straightened from shoving the last box in place, pulled out the pans, and dusted off her hands. “Let me have a look out front for a minute,” she said, and dashed to the front.

She saw Mrs. Snelson going out the door. Oh well. If the woman was becoming a regular, there would be another time soon to talk to her and see if she had yet another story about the night of the reunion.

At Mallory’s next break, Chase sat with her while Anna took her place selling.

“Did Mrs. Snelson buy the same thing this time?” Chase asked.

Mallory frowned. “Just the Lemon Bars. I asked her if she would like Peanut Butter Fudge again, but she started on a rant about her husband.”