The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (24 page)

It was Candace.

I let her in, hugged her tightly and said, “I am so glad you came.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be in bed,” she said. “I take it you haven’t heard from Finn?”

“No. But I nodded off. How can I sleep with Finn missing?” As we went into the kitchen I checked the microwave for the time. One a.m. I’d been out for several hours.

“You needed the sleep. And I need tea.” She opened the fridge and took out the pitcher.

“I have wine, if you’d rather—”

“Nothing stronger than tea or coffee until I solve this double homicide,” she said. “But I’d love a big bag of chips about now.”

“Since I had a teenager in the house, I can fulfill your wish,” I said.

“By the way, did you check your security footage? I wonder if something important was caught on video. Maybe Hilary lied and Finn did talk to her,” she said, taking the bag of chips I offered.

“Can’t hurt to check,” I said. “We can also get the exact time the security system was disarmed, though I’m not sure how the information will help.”

“Any information might be useful,” Candace said. “Let’s go look.”

In my office I booted up the computer and we watched the various feeds from the past evening. Most of the time, Finn seemed to be watching television in the living room. Then we saw him stab the remote and stand up, as if listening to something. Could this be when his mother showed up? He disappeared and must have gone to his room, but without a camera in that part of the house, we could only assume. Then we watched Finn and Yoshi walk through the living room and kitchen, Finn carrying his backpack slung over one shoulder. The time stamp showed Finn disarmed the system around ten p.m. On his way out, he stopped to write the note he’d left me and I noticed he kept glancing back toward the foyer.

I murmured, “He heard Hilary. He left because she was at the front door.”

Candace had been leaning over, looking at the screen. “You’re right. She was the trigger. He didn’t want to see her.”

I powered off the computer and we returned to the living room. Candace sat down with her tea and the extra-large bag of Wavy Lays. I felt sad Finn never even had a chance to open them.

“I take it you haven’t heard from Tom?” I asked.

“Not a word. He didn’t go home. See, Bob didn’t have a ride since Rodriguez drove him to the station. But Morris wasn’t about to drop Bob off at Tom’s house until we can search the yard in the morning light. There could be evidence we missed. He did drive by the place, though. Rodriguez was on watch, parked out front. He said he hadn’t seen Tom.”

“Where did Morris take Bob?” I asked. “He said he didn’t have any money.”

Candace finished her mouthful of chips before answering. “Morris dropped him at his mother’s house. We made sure not to tell Bob that Finn is missing. We figured he can’t tell Karen anything he doesn’t know.”

“Karen said it was okay for Bob to come to her house to stay?” I said. “You’re aware those two have issues.”

“I know. But Bob called her from the station, and she apparently didn’t put up too much of a stink. You know something? She’s been living in Mercy for ten years—since I was a teenager—and I never saw her as hysterical as she was tonight. For that matter, I’ve never seen Tom as screwed up as he is right now, either.”

“I’m worried about him. You think he’s still driving all over the place looking for Finn?” I said.

“Not a doubt in my mind. You don’t think Tom changed his mind about Finn, do you? Maybe he thinks Finn found Gannon spying through Tom’s window and ended up harming his father. Because if that’s the case, I wouldn’t put it past Tom to help Finn get as far away from Mercy as possible.”

“No way, Candace. He knows Finn could never kill anyone,” I said. “If he finds him, he’ll convince him to come back. I had a thought earlier that perhaps Finn didn’t leave here on his own. Maybe someone compelled him to leave. Now we know it was probably Hilary’s arrival that made him run.”

She used a paper towel she’d grabbed earlier and wiped salt and grease off her hands. After taking a long drink of tea, she said, “Could be, or maybe he
compelled
himself to leave, Jillian. From talking to him, I get the sense he’d blame himself, think he’d caused everyone too much trouble. Distress like that can make people turn to what they know best to solve a problem. In his case, it’s running away.”

“He’ll come back. He has to. Now that he’s seen how much Tom cares about him, he won’t be able to stay away.” I welcomed Chablis onto my lap. Syrah was already asleep above my head on the recliner’s back. Merlot, who likes salty fingers, was parked close to Candace.

“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I want to tell Finn myself how we found a couple important pieces of evidence on Gannon’s body.”

“What evidence?” I asked.

“Finn’s wallet. We also found a prepaid cell in Gannon’s pocket. It belonged to Finn, too.”

“His wallet? And a phone?” I said. “How did Gannon get these things? Because Finn never mentioned meeting up with his father. Unless… Oh my goodness. Could Gannon have been at the scene of the accident?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she said.

I nodded slowly, deciding it all made sense. “He took those things from Finn’s pocket or backpack while he was unconscious.”

“I can’t think of any other explanation,” Candace said.

“That’s huge,” I said. “But it makes me wonder—and not for the first time—how Rory Gannon ended up in Mercy. And now, how he ended up at the accident scene—or should I say Roth’s murder scene?”

“Don’t know for sure yet,” she said. “But here’s another little gem of a connection. The crime lab sent over the phone logs from Tom’s cell and we now know a call was placed from Tom’s phone to Gannon’s halfway house. Once Finn’s phone is thoroughly examined by our techies at the county crime lab, maybe we’ll learn more about who was talking to whom.”

“You didn’t look at Finn’s call and text record on his phone already?” I said.

“Not completely,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “On TV they fiddle around with cell phones, scrolling through the call log and sent messages of phones at crime scenes, but I don’t do that. We have techies who know how to access information, relay it to us and preserve the evidence—not to mention preserve the chain of custody for court.”

“I can tell you saw something, though. What?” I said.

She stared at me for a long moment. “Oh all right—but I’m telling you only because I trust you more than my own mother. I saw a text that came from Tom’s phone to Finn the day Nolan Roth was murdered. The message said something like, ‘Hey, I’m driving around looking for you, Finn. Where are you?’”

“But Nolan Roth had Tom’s phone,” I said. “
He
sent the message and lured Finn to him. How in the world did he make him get into the car?”

“Good question,” she said. “I’m hoping when we find Finn—and I’m sure we will—some of his memory will return and he can help fill in the blanks.”

“Remember that the doctor who treated him for the concussion said he doubted what was lost would ever be recovered,” I said.

“Call me an optimist. First we have to find him, though. Meanwhile, I’m seriously considering Gannon for Roth’s murder.”

“What motive did he have?” I said.

“He wanted his son back?” Candace sounded less than sure.

“Then why smash Finn’s head into the dashboard? No, wait. Maybe Roth was the one who did that after the crash.”

“We just don’t know,” she said. “Not yet anyway. But we have Finn’s and Tom’s phones, so we can see how they match up as far as dates and times with those texts and calls. One other thing’s been bugging me and I was hoping Hilary Roth had the answer. She claims she doesn’t, though.” Candace closed the top of the potato chip package.

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“We figured Roth was trying to find Finn—but Rory Gannon seemed to be in town for the same reason.”

“Did you ask Hilary about Gannon? Had she contacted him recently?” I asked.

“She says no,” Candace said. “She has no idea why he had any interest in Finn.”

I blinked several times, considering this. “So we’ve got an unstable man who hasn’t seen his kid in who knows how long. But when Finn runs away from home, Gannon heads here and practically stalks everyone who’s had a conversation with Finn. Weird. I hope these phone logs help answer how Gannon knew Finn was here.”

Twenty-four

The following morning, I walked into Belle’s Beans hoping for more than a cup of coffee—though coffee was something I desperately needed after staying awake most of the night worrying about Finn and Tom. Even though Candace asked for the BOLO from her cell phone, it had since been picked up by many police officers all over the county and subsequently did get on the police scanner. I was sure people in town were talking about more than the newest murder and a missing adolescent. Maybe someone had seen Finn last night—or better yet, this morning. I sure hadn’t heard a word from him—nor had I heard from Tom or Candace yet today.

I forced a smile when the Belle of the Day greeted me. I ordered a large coffee with an extra shot of espresso and doctored it with half-and-half and plenty of sugar. I felt as if my brain was about as functional as a plate of scrambled eggs. Nothing made sense; nothing seemed logical. I couldn’t even remember everything Candace and I had talked about last night, but I did recall we both still couldn’t figure out how Rory Gannon found his way to Mercy in the first place.

The crowd in the coffee shop all seemed to be staring at me as I wound between tables and took a spot right in the middle of the room. A few people smiled and nodded. If anyone knew anything about Finn or about Gannon’s death, I might be able to overhear their whispers.

Belle Lowry, the kind and savvy owner of Belle’s Beans, swooped to my table from out of nowhere and sat down across from me. She said, “Whatever have you gotten yourself into this time, sweetie?”

As usual, her snowy hair was perfectly coiffed and her coral lipstick had been applied in a straight line on both lips. At least she hadn’t missed below her lips like I’d seen her do at times. Her familiar and kind presence had a settling effect.

“Nothing good, Belle, that’s for sure,” I answered.

“Did you really find a stranger dead in Tom Stewart’s backyard?” she said.

“I did. I was searching for poor Dashiell and got more than I bargained for,” I said.

“Is the young man involved? Tom’s stepson?” she asked.

She was fishing for information, but I was the one who needed to do the fishing. I tried to change it up by saying, “What have you heard? And don’t be shy. I’m sure it’s plenty.”

She laughed. “Me? Shy? No one’s ever accused Belle of such a thing.” She leaned toward me. “Everyone’s talking about Tom and Karen, two of the most private people I’ve ever known. Not to mention Tom’s brother. What’re the odds of Bob Cochran showing up the same time as Tom’s stepson? I can’t hardly figure out what’s going on with that family.”

There it was. Out of Belle’s mouth often came the most obvious observations. I’d never even considered the timing of Bob’s arrival, but Belle was right to wonder whether it was coincidence. Hoping to mine more gold, I said, “You know Bob’s name. What have you heard?”

“Oh, I know Bob. He lived with Karen for a short spell before Ed came into her life. Never had two pennies of his own to rub together, so Karen let him stay with her. Something happened about five years ago and he up and left. An argument is all the grapevine could glean.” She smiled. “
Glean
was one of my crossword puzzle words this morning. They say use a word three times and it’s yours. Got two more times to go.”

“I see. No one ever mentioned him, so I was surprised when I met him,” I said.

“You mean Tom never mentioned him,” she said. “He was none too happy about Bob leeching off their mother. When Bob left, Tom was singing a happy tune, I tell you. Fresh off his divorce, he’d been pretty mopey beforehand. She’s here, too. Hilary. Been in here drinking coffee several times. She’s a lovely-looking woman but there’s something about her. You are a much better match for our Tom.”

I felt the heat of a blush. Tom and I hadn’t exactly made our budding relationship public. Before I could reply, Belle’s face lit up.

She said, “Speak of the devil, look what the cat dragged in. A man who needs a serious coffee fix.”

It was Tom, looking completely exhausted and defeated.

Belle rose and worked her way between tables to the counter. She patted Tom’s arm and then pointed my way. Tom looked at me, but couldn’t seem to muster even a small smile.

He bought his coffee and came to my table. “You haven’t heard anything or you wouldn’t be sitting here alone,” he said. “I had no luck either. He’s simply vanished, Jillian.”

I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “He’ll turn up once he thinks things through. But where have you been?”

“At every convenience store, gas station and truck stop within a fifty-mile radius.” He withdrew his hand and sipped his coffee, set the cup down and stared into the black liquid. “I plan to make flyers with his picture when I can get back into my house. Finn didn’t feel safe here, and that’s my fault. I have to make him understand how much he means to me.”

“He knows how much he means to you. He’s scared, that’s all. Wouldn’t you be? He didn’t want to talk to Hilary when she showed up and maybe he couldn’t even stand to hear her voice,” I said.

Tom’s eyes met mine. “Why did Hilary have to tell him about his father by shouting about his murder through a locked door? I know she’s cold, but come on. No wonder he ran.”

“She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who thinks things through,” I said. “She wanted to talk to Finn and thought she could get him to open the door with some shocking news. It was a little selfish.”

“A
little
?” He laughed contemptuously. “As for not thinking things through, I’m afraid you’re wrong. She thinks everything through. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted him to feel guilty and she succeeded. I know how Finn thinks. He’s out there somewhere beating himself up for refusing to talk to his father before the man died.”