Fat Cat Spreads Out (20 page)

“Who won?” asked Elsa. “We don't dare go in to find out.”

Chase would see if that was true. She fished the tissue out of her pocket and waved it near her nose, taking a tiny swipe at a nonexistent itch. A couple of straws of hay fell out of her pocket with the tissue.

The twins sneezed in unison.

Elsa started sniffling and Eleanor's eyes began to water. “Do you have another tissue?” Elsa asked, her voice choked.

“No, sorry. This one is used.” She stuck the tissue back into her pocket with the straw. Yes, the sisters were definitely allergic to it. “Astrid, the woman who carved the North Star, won.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said, choking. They both hurried away.

That answered Chase's question about the allergies once and for all. She didn't think Elsa could have entered the room long enough to kill her husband.

Chase hurried back to the Bar None booth. Anna was waiting on a few stragglers. Chase turned back to where Holly Molden, the redheaded travel agent, was standing
in the back of her booth, chewing her fingernails. Holly raised her eyebrows to ask Chase what she wanted. Chase opened her mouth but couldn't tell her about Sally. Someone official should do that.

She returned to the Bar None booth. Anna was the only one there now.

“Where is everybody?” Chase asked.

“I think they're all watching the judging of the contests today. We had a handful right after you left, but no one to speak of for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Anna,” she whispered, so the travel agent wouldn't hear her. “I just saw the most horrible thing. Our neighbor is dead.”

“The toymaker?”

“No, Sally, the tall travel agent. I saw her body behind the booths. Detective Olson and some other official people are there. He told me to leave, but I heard him say he thinks she was strangled.”

“Strangled?”

“Shh.” Chase tilted her head toward the next-door booth. “She doesn't know yet. Anna, if she was murdered, we'll have to be very careful. I have no idea what's going on around here.”

Anna glanced around at their empty booth. “Do you want to close up now and watch some of the contests, then? There will be more people there.”

“Have you noticed the time? I think we'd better do it and get Quincy ready for his big moment.”

Her cell beeped again. It was the same puzzling message from Mike except without any spacing between the letters this time: “Sos.”

Why wouldn't he just call? Or text something more intelligible? She was going there soon to pick up Quincy. She'd ask him when she got there.

“Anna, do you know what this means?” She held the screen out.

The older woman took the phone and frowned. “It doesn't mean anything.”

Holly came into the booth as Anna set down the cell phone and started scooping up the few dessert bars that remained unsold.

“Wait, I want to take some of those home,” Holly said, pointing her stubby fingernails at the Almond Cherry Bars. Her nails looked raw and ragged. Almond Cherry was the flavor Sally had bought.

“Do you know anything about your partner yet?” Chase asked. Somebody should tell this woman soon.

“No.” She pursed her lips and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I don't know what to do.”

Anna came around the table, gave her the goodies, and hugged her. “I'm so sorry you're going through this.”

Holly collapsed into her arms, sobbing, for a few minutes. The she raised her head, took a deep breath, and gave a tentative smile. “Thank you. I'm sure she's just stuck somewhere with a flat tire and a dead cell phone.”

Chase almost gasped at how wrong that was. It was upsetting she hadn't been told about her partner's death yet, but Chase didn't want to be the one to tell her. She barely knew the woman. Quick, she thought. Change the subject. “Have you heard anything new about the missing diamond collar?”

She gave a nonanswer. “Maybe.” After she paid for the bars, Holly started to leave. She got to the midway and then came back.

“You know the toymaker on the other side of you?” She spoke in a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

Chase nodded. She'd noticed that he was still packing up. His booth was nearly empty.

“He says he saw someone run out of the sculpture building right before the veterinarian went in.”

“Did he tell the detective that?”

“No. Sally heard him tell his smelly friend. His friend said he should tell the cops, but Harper said he doesn't like the police. Judging from some of his tattoos, I'd say he's had some bad run-ins with the legal system.”

That had been mentioned earlier, but Chase had failed to see the significance. Now she did. Sally knew Harper had been in prison and Harper might know who murdered Oake. Harper was a link, a connection between Oake and the dead agent. And a killer? Now there was another suspect!

“Did he say who he saw?”

“Sally didn't hear that part, she said. From what she overheard, she thinks that he does know who it was. But she told me she was going to try to convince Harper to go to the police.” Holly sniffed, another tear dropping down her cheek. “And she would if he didn't.”

“You don't think he would do anything to Sally, do you?”

“He looks like a rough man. I don't know what he'd be capable of.”

Could Harper have killed Sally? It was more likely someone would want to kill Harper for what he was saying he'd seen.

Holly went back to her booth holding her head high, trying not to cry.

Chase had to find out who Harper saw. She would be very careful. But she had to know.

“E
xcuse me, Mr. Harper.” She smiled to set the toymaker at ease. It didn't work.

“Whaddya want now? Did you sic the cops on me?” He taped up a box. There were only two left in his booth. He must have started carting his toys to the parking lot much earlier.

“What? No. They're questioning everyone. Please, I need some information you have. But first, you have to understand how important it is. Dr. Michael Ramos has been accused of murdering Larry Oake. He definitely didn't do that.”

The man stopped working and scowled at her. “How do you know? Did you kill him?” Venom shot from Harper's narrow eyes. Chase felt a chill inside.

“No, of course not.” She forced another smile, kept her voice light. “But I know Dr. Ramos very well. He devotes his life to helping animals. He couldn't hurt anyone.”

The horrid man smirked, letting Chase know he thought she was extremely naïve.

“He couldn't,” she repeated, more loudly, stepping closer. The man reeked of sweat and cigarettes. She tried to remember if he had worn the same thin flannel shirt every day. Didn't the man have a coat? “But if you know something and don't tell the police, he may go to prison for something he didn't do.” She now took a judicious step backward.

“Worse things have happened. And I don't know nothin'.” He shrugged and turned his back on her, lifting the two remaining boxes off his table with a grunt. They looked terribly heavy.

Chase shuddered and returned to the Bar None booth. It was so pleasant and cheerful compared to Harper's. Mainly because Anna Larson was there and not that awful Harper. She had to let Detective Olson know that the man had important information. She started out of the booth.

“Chase, where are you going?” Anna was finishing up a transaction with a customer who was buying three boxes of Peanut Butter Fudge Bars. “We have to get Quincy ready.”

“Did you hear our conversation just now?”

“What conversation? Come on and help me. We have to get packed up.”

“With the toymaker.”

“No, but we'd better hurry or we're going to be late.”

Chase didn't want to take the time to explain. She snagged a Lemon Bar as Anna was beginning to seal the last box.

“You go get Quincy started,” Anna urged. “I'll take this stuff to the car, then come back and help you.”

“Okay. Be careful.” She gave Anna a quick smooch on her weathered cheek and dashed to the big building. Maybe she'd meet up with Detective Olson somewhere. Maybe he was still with the body. She knew she couldn't go back there without getting scolded. How long would he be there? Would he come to the contest arena when he finished? Surely, if the woman had been murdered, his best suspects would be there. They would need to detain people, question everyone. She had to find him soon.

Hurrying past the open doors to the large exhibition room, she saw that workers were getting ready for the Fancy Cat Contest in one half of the room. The dog agility trials were still going on in the other half. A ring made of metal supports and sturdy canvas was being set up for the cat show, with three-tier risers flanking it on one side for the judges and spectators. The canvas was printed with cats' paws in pastel colors. This was supposed to prevent the cats from escaping, but they hadn't met Quincy yet.

So many people milled about that she couldn't tell if Olson was there or not. Two policemen stood guard near the door, but neither was Olson. She looked for Inger, too, but didn't spot her. She didn't know where else to look for the detective. Surely she'd run into him soon.

Going on, she opened the door to the vet's office. Betsy, the receptionist, was alone in the outer room.

“I came to get my cat for the show.”

“Everyone else has already gotten theirs. Go ahead.” She waved Chase into the inner room.

Mike wasn't there. Chase stuck her head out and asked where he was.

The woman shrugged. “He went off with some man. Something about a pet collar. Didn't say when he'd be back. I might leave in a couple of minutes.”

Chase wondered why he had left. Maybe someone needed help with a pet in the show ring. The dog agility test was finishing up. There may have been some other shows in other corners of the cavernous room, too. Quincy's Babe the Blue Ox costume was in a bag beneath the cage. The black cat, Shadow, was gone, probably being prepared for the show. Maybe even already dressed. It was still early, though. There was over an hour before the contest was due to start. She hoped Quincy would cooperate and make this relatively easy. She could envision taking an hour to get him costumed.

However, he cooperated fully when she did a test run. He seemed to enjoy the blue jacket she slipped onto him. He wouldn't tolerate the horns that strapped around his head, though. She tucked them back into the bag. It would be easy enough to put them on at the last minute.

She lifted him into his carrier and picked up the costume bag. Incredibly, his little jacket stayed on.

Anna burst into the room. “Oh, good. You're ready. Some of the other cats are already beginning to line up.” She grabbed the carryall and headed out the door.

“Really?” Chase followed her into the reception room, then stopped.

“A pet collar,” she said, slowly. “Mike left with someone who was talking about a pet collar.” Betsy had left already. Was there nothing that needed to be locked up here? Surely there were some animal medications. Maybe people didn't steal those. Or maybe Betsy was as flaky as her daughter.

“I'm sure we'll see him there,” Anna said. “Come on.”

Chase couldn't help but think about the missing cat collar. Maybe Mike was finally finding out what had happened and where it was.

C
hase was lost in thought on the way to the contest. Entirely too much was going on and she hardly understood any of it. She was sure that the Bunyan County Fair had never seen two murders back-to-back like this. More police personnel gathered in the midway.

When she and Anna got there, Mike wasn't in the exhibition room. Chase was starting to get anxious about him. She knew he wanted to see the Fancy Cats.

Anna found the stand with Quincy's name on it and set the bag containing the rest of his costume on the ground next to it while Chase put Quincy, in his carrier, on the top.

Ivan Aronoff, Chase knew, felt that his son had been done a grave injustice and was angry at the Picky Puss company. He had fixated on the diamond collar as a
symbol of that injustice, it seemed. The company hadn't done right by his son. He had made that abundantly clear. He also seemed a bit unhinged, in Chase's opinion. Dangerous? She didn't know. But if the man thought Mike had his treasure, and if Mike had left with the man, Mike could be in danger. Where were they?

She saw Peter, Ivan's good-looking son, right away, but there was no sign of his father. Where was he?

Ingrid stood not far from Peter on the other side of the room. Chase waved, and Ingrid waved back. Chase wondered where she'd been all day. Ingrid turned and climbed into the bleachers.

“Earth to Chase.” Anna waved her hand up and down in front of Chase's face. She had gotten Quincy out and held him, still wearing his little blue jacket. “Isn't he cute? Take his picture.”

“Wait a sec.” Chase patted her jeans pocket, feeling for her phone. She wanted a picture of Quincy as well as some of the other cats with their costumes. Her cell was gone. “Where's my phone?”

“Ah. I believe it's in the booth,” Anna said. “I laid it down to wait on the travel agent. You were showing me a text, remember?”

Chase ran to the booth, now full of their boxes. Her cell phone sat on the table, the lone item there. At least no one had taken it. She thumbed it to see if she'd gotten any more cryptic messages from Mike. Two more from Tanner. They were dropping off in frequency. But none from Mike. She ran back and looked around the exhibit space.

“Mike still isn't here.” She was getting a bad feeling
in her stomach. She twisted a few strands of her hair frantically. She flipped through the pictures she had taken in the butter building.

“Oh dear.” Anna's mouth dropped open. “I just realized. That text? He's in trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was sending you an SOS.”

Of course! That's what it meant. Chase's mouth dropped open, too. “You're right. Mike is in trouble. But I don't know where he is.”

Detective Olson entered the exhibition room and headed toward the bleachers. She wondered if he was there to see the contest. Or to take another look at some suspects? She knew she needed to tell him to talk to the toymaker and to do something about Mike. There seemed to be time right now. Cat owners were still trickling in.

Something clicked. Those pictures on her phone. She glanced through them.

“I have to show a picture to Niles,” Chase said. She caught him before he reached a seat.

“Detective,” she said. “Niles?”

“What?” It sounded like he meant,
Not now
.

“I think Michael Ramos is in trouble.”

The detective stopped and listened.

“He texted me ‘SOS' a couple of times and he's supposed to be here. I have no idea where he is, but . . .”

“He's not hiding out?”

“Why would he hide out? He didn't kill Oake, you know that.” What an exasperating man Detective Olson was.

“I'm beginning to think you're right.” He seemed to
be watching Ivan and Peter as they readied their cat, Shadow. Chase hadn't seen Ivan arrive, but there he was. “We got a nine-one-one hang-up call from the doctor's phone, but when we located it, outside the exhibit building, he wasn't with it. Where do you think he might be?”

“He dropped his phone? Take a look at this picture.” She showed him the image on her phone.

“It's a butter sculpture.”

“Look at the doorway.”

He drew the phone close to his face. She reached over and pressed a button to enlarge the photo.

“There are people going past. I didn't realize these shots were in my pictures. I think I took one with Mike in it. This might be a stretch,” Chase said, ignoring Olson's disparaging look, “but Mike's aunt Betsy, his receptionist, said he left with someone who mentioned a collar. If this concerns the missing diamond collar, maybe this person has it. I thought Mike might be going with him to learn more, but what if he left with the killer?”

“Or, more likely, the thief.”

“But what if he's the same person?”

“There's a good chance of that, but who is he? Or she?”

She tried a different tack. She pointed to the picture. “That looks like Harper the toymaker to me. See the tattoos? The travel agent—Holly Molden, the redheaded one—told me that her partner, Sally Ritten, heard the toymaker say he saw someone run out of the building at about the time of the murder.” She didn't mention that she had recognized Sally behind the booths. “Maybe Mike is trying to get that information. The other person
here is tall. It looks like Mike to me. Maybe he left with the toymaker. Maybe both murders are tied together.”

“
Both
murders?”

“I couldn't help but see . . .”

Olson took another look at the phone picture. “The toymaker.” He scratched his chin. “Harper?”

“That's what the sign says on this booth, but a guy visiting him called him Hardin.”

“Hardin?” He squinted at her. “I think I'm connecting some dots,” Olson said, nodding slowly. “I bet I know why he wouldn't want to talk to us. I should have taken him in when I first got a funny feeling about him. I should have known who he was. He's let his hair grow long in the back and he's gotten bald on the top. He's a little more wrinkled, but I should have recognized him.”

“Who is he?”

“Frank Hardin, if I'm right. He's a wanted felon. He murdered two women in Iowa ten years ago. Threw them in the back of a van and drove them to a wooded park to strangle them and bury the bodies in a shallow grave. He was convicted and sentenced to life, but he escaped from prison three years ago.”

“He's an escaped murderer? And he has Mike?”