Fat Cat Takes The Cake

That was interesting. “What sort of rant?”

“She called him some bad names and said she wasn’t buying anything for him ever again.”

That was certainly puzzling. Mrs. Cray thought the marriage was in trouble, but Mrs. Snelson had gone to great, if contradictory, lengths to shield her husband from suspicion. Now, however, it seemed Mrs. Cray was right. Maybe the relationship was volatile. Would she quit protecting him now?

Chase went to the office to call Detective Niles Olson.

TWENTY

“Why doesn’t that man ever answer his phone?” Chase slammed the office phone onto the charger.

When she stormed out of the office Anna asked her what was the matter.

“I wanted to tell Detective Olson something about Mr. Snelson’s alibi. It’s coming unpeeled like phyllo dough.”

“Hm,” Anna mused. “What would a baklava dessert bar taste like? How hard would that be?”

“Not now! You have to concentrate on the Minny Batter Battle.”

“I know, I know. It’s good to be thinking ahead, don’t you think?” Anna stopped stirring for a moment. “What about Mr. Snelson?”

“His wife gave him two conflicting alibis, but she was in just now and Mallory says she bad-mouthed him. She made it clear that she’s not buying dessert bars for him ever again. That woman likes to tell her business to everyone, I guess, even almost complete strangers.”

“I saw his wife this morning,” Anna said.

“Mrs. Snelson? Here?”

“No, on my way to work, she was stopped at the light beside me. I recognized her from coming into the shop, but she didn’t seem to remember seeing me.”

“Did she look guilty of murder?”

“Something is up with that couple. Her backseat was stacked to the roof with piles of stuff.”

“Papers?”

Anna cocked her head. “I’d say more like clothing. It looked like men’s clothing, dumped into the backseat.”

“Wow. I wonder if she kicked Mr. Snelson out. Mallory said she sounded steamed at him.”

“I was thinking that might be it.”

“Now I really need to get hold of Niles Olson.”

“Maybe he doesn’t work on Sundays.”

Anna was probably right. The man needed a day off once in a while. Even if that was inconvenient for her.

Monday morning, Julie called to set up a time to see Dillon Yardley in the hospital. “I just found out I can get away for an hour at lunchtime,” she said. “Meet you there instead of later?”

Chase had slept in that morning. The stress was tiring her out. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after two, tossing and turning and worrying. Then, when her alarm rang, she’d hit snooze for an hour.

But she was waiting in the lobby of the hospital at a quarter to twelve, which was good because Julie showed up a bit early. Chase carried a bouquet of carnations and a card, which Julie signed. “You have the room number?” Julie asked.

“I called up there as soon as I got here. Bart answered the phone. I was so surprised I hung up.”

“Oh great, he’s here.” Julie twisted the corner of her mouth. “Oh well. This is the only time I have until late today.”

“He’s not my favorite person either, but I think his heart’s in the right place. He’s very faithful to Dillon. By the way, he said something about you hearing him when I told him we would visit Dillon.”

Julie shook her head. “That’s what he wanted legal advice about in the parking lot.”

“About Dillon?”

“Yes. It’s complicated.”

The elevator dinged when they reached Dillon’s floor and they wound through the hallways to get to the room. They peeked in.

“Is this the right number?” Julie whispered. “It’s full of people.”

“There’s Bart, over by the window.”

The room was small and held three large visitors. Bart Fender was one of them. His thick body blocked half the light from the window. The other two, an older couple, sat in chairs on the other side of the bed. The man held the hand of the frail, pale woman in the bed. Her skin was nearly as white as the sheets. Faint blue veins crisscrossed her temples. Dillon had always been fair, but now it looked as though her skin was transparent, stretched tight across the bones of her face and hands.

“We have to, young man,” the older man said to Bart. “And we’re going to. It needs to be done and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I can go to a judge. I’ll bring an injunction. You can’t kill her.” Bart spoke through clenched teeth, his hands tightly fisted at his sides. Intense pain showed in his narrowed eyes.

The older man released Dillon’s inert hand and rose from his chair. “You have no legal standing here, Fender. She’s our daughter. And she’s not going to get better.”

“You don’t know that! She could! She only needs to wake up.” Bart’s eyes squeezed together and his tears streamed down his cheeks to his thick neck. “You don’t talk to her enough.”

Chase realized he had been crying all along.

Bart noticed them at that moment. “What are you doing here?” He sounded belligerent.

“Don’t you remember I said I would come and visit Dillon?” Chase asked.

He gave a slight nod. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Maybe now isn’t a good time,” Julie said.

“I’m sorry.” The woman stood and extended a hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Dillon’s mother.”