Pawsibly Murdered Page 9

  “I’ll walk you home,” he insisted.

  “I’m just across the street.”

  “Good, then it won’t take long.” He waved good-bye to Bea and Jake, and before I knew what was happening, he had one hand gently holding my arm, as if I were a perpetrator that he was escorting to the station.

  “People are going to think I’m being escorted out of Bea’s house. You look like a bouncer removing an unsavory.”

  “Really? Why don’t you stagger a little like you’re drunk? Shout out a few curse words. Give the neighbors a show.”

  I chuckled. Once again, Treacle came from around the corner of the house.

  “What are you doing, kitty cat?”

  “Waiting for you. Had I known you had a police escort…”

  “Very funny.”

  After I pulled out my keys and opened my door, Treacle stood there, supervising, as a parent might two hormonal teenagers.

  “Well, thanks for making sure I got home,” I said to Blake.

  “I’m sorry to hear things with Tom are a little rocky.” Blake blurted the words out as if they were watermelon seeds to spit.

  “Thanks.” I shrugged.

  “Do you really think he’s the one?”

  “I never said that,” I replied rather quickly. “I don’t date very often, so I think my family thought if I liked someone, he must be super-special. I’ll try to remember what Jake said about his mom. But.” I stepped closer to Blake. “Between you and me, she doesn’t like me because I’m just a waitress.”

  “Some of the most interesting characters in real life wait tables.”

  “What?” I screwed up my face. “Like who?”

  “Frank Capra.” Blake put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “You have seen It’s a Wonderful Life, haven’t you?”

  “Of course I have.”

  He looked at his watch and sighed.

  “I’ve got to get going. This case with Niles Freudenfur is becoming a bigger ball of wax than we expected. Especially since that gunk destroyed our evidence.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We hadn’t had a chance to look into the list of names in the date book. It’s like the stuff had a timed disintegration mechanism. Just as we were about to take a closer look… poof.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if that was planned or chance. I didn’t say anything. Just shrugged.

  “Well, have a good night, Cath. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Blake.”

  15

  Free Ride

  “Patrick Fouts showing up at the police station is very odd indeed,” my aunt said after we told her what Jake had said. “They said he had a prowler, and he was sure someone was lurking around Niles’s property? He didn’t see us the other night?”

  “No,” Bea answered. “He said some slimy-looking thing was lurking around.”

  “He wasn’t at his house when Bea and I tried to call on him,” Aunt Astrid said. “I wonder if he’s around now.”

  “It’s just a little after eight in the morning.” I scratched my head and yawned.

  “Maybe he is just getting home at this hour,” Bea added. “What do you say we go give it a try?”

  “Field trip!” I shouted, clapping and hopping up and down. “I’m driving.”

  After fifteen minutes, we arrived, and Bea was a little upset.

  “What’s the rush?” She patted her bright-red curls in place. “You went through so many red lights that I’d be ashamed to tell Jake about it.”

  “Then don’t tell him. And for your information, they were yellow.”

  “My gosh, you are blind, and you are driving.” She shook her head and smoothed her skirt as we walked up to a quaint brownstone.

  “He lives here, eh?”

  It was a beautiful dark-brown brick building with three floors, the perfect stoop for sitting on, and a garden in the basement, which had an open sliding glass door.

  “Let’s try there.” I pointed.

  “We can’t just walk in.”

  “No, but we can yell. He might be in trouble. Yikes, you’d think he’d clean up some of this mud from the plants and stuff.” I gingerly went down the cement steps to the door and peeked in. “Hello? Hello? Patrick?”

  “Who the hell is it!” The man’s voice sounded anything but threatening, and there was a singsongy accent to his voice.

  “Patrick Fouts?” I called again. “You left your door open. Are you all right?”

  We heard the pounding of feet on hardwood, but before we saw anyone, the front door on the second floor opened up.

  “Oh, hello.” A lovely older woman wearing a stylish hat and carrying a briefcase stepped out. “Are you looking for Patrick?” She said it as if young women were always looking for Patrick. Bea and I weren’t sure that was accurate, but who were we to say otherwise?

  “Um, yes. So sorry to disturb you.” Bea spoke kindly and reached out her hand, making quick introductions.

  “I’m Laura Fouts, Patrick’s mother. I’m sure he’ll be out in just a spell. I’m off to work. Have a lovely day, ladies.”

  And with that, Laura was off down the street to hail a cab.

  “Patrick. Can we talk to you for a second?” I stepped closer to the door and caught a glimpse of a tall, thin man putting on a robe. Finally, with as much attitude as we both expected, Patrick came to the sliding door.

  The dark circles around his eyes were a stark contrast to his pale complexion and strawberry-blond hair. He reeked of cigarettes and booze. It must have been a late night.

  “What?” he barked nervously. “Who are you with? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys I don’t have it.”

  “Um, no,” I blurted out.

  Bea was much more diplomatic than me and within seconds managed to get us inside the apartment.

  “We wanted to ask you about Niles Freudenfur.”

  His face became even more pained than the hangover he was suffering from made it.

  “Are you the police? I’ve already told you what I know. I wasn’t anywhere around when Niles died.”

  “We aren’t with the police,” I said. “We just have a few questions.”

  Bea placed her hand on Patrick’s forearm. I was sure in his agitated state, he’d yank it away, but he didn’t. Instead, he sank down on the white leather sofa and sighed.

  Bea took a seat next to him. I remained standing.

  “We heard you were friends with Niles. We just wanted to know if Niles mentioned anything strange that he was working on or maybe experiencing.” Bea’s voice was firm but motherly. It was easy to see why people opened up to her. I, on the other hand, got people like Dolores Eversol spilling their guts to me. Loonies.

  “Niles mention something strange? If he was talking, you can bet it was something strange. That was how he made his living.” Patrick ran his hand through his cropped hair.

  “How long did you work for Niles?” Bea continued.

  “I didn’t work for him. Well, not in the traditional sense.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Niles liked to have me around as sort of a prop. Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t mind. He bought me clothes and paid off half my student loan. He was going to pay for my headshots to get my modeling career going, but then… this happened.”

  “Were you a couple?” I had to ask.

  Patrick snickered as if I’d just asked if he’d like to put his hand into a bowl of peeled grapes.

  “He wanted to be.” Patrick blinked his blue eyes.

  “You didn’t?” Bea asked gently. Through the course of the exchange, Bea had taken Patrick’s hand. She was obviously reading something and trying to coax a little more out of Patrick with a few delicately asked questions.

  “You know what Niles looked like. Put him in a dress, and at best, he was Norman Bates’s mother… at the end of the movie.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” I said, more to myself than really out loud.

  “
He had a way with some of the women in town. You know, the ones who live in Sarkis Estates and the like. There were some ladies who dropped five K just to sit with Niles for twenty minutes. There were other women who didn’t go on a date, accept a job, make a renovation to their home, or send their kid to a certain college if Niles didn’t give them the green light.”

  I rolled my eyes. Aunt Astrid would give them the straight dope for twenty bucks and even throw in an oatmeal raisin cookie for free if your news was a little disappointing.

  “This bothered you?” Bea asked.

  “No. A fool and his money… you know the rest.” Patrick chuckled again. “Besides, a good bit of that money went to me.”

  “Didn’t you feel guilty taking it?” I asked. “Knowing that Niles was a fraud?”

  “He wasn’t a fraud.” Patrick crossed his legs like a woman and tugged his robe shut. “He may not have had an actual gift of sight. But sometimes you just have to fake it till you make it.”

  “Is that what you did? Fake it?” I asked. I was getting tired of hearing this spoiled brat talk. He lived in the basement of his mother’s brownstone in a posh part of the city. He wanted to be a model because… I doubted there was much more he could do.

  “Niles let me in on a lot of his business. I didn’t ask for him to bring me into the inner sanctum. But he did.” Patrick began to nervously tug at the belt of his robe. “He said he knew of a way we could be together. Forever. He said he just needed to wait until a certain date, and it would all be set. I had no idea what he was talking about. But then…”

  “What?” I was not nearly as couth as Bea. I just wanted to know the answers. Forget all this melodrama and spill the beans.

  “Niles told me that he’d perform this spell that would unite us forever. He had this crazy look in his eyes like I was a piece of meat or property. I’d never seen it before.” Patrick swallowed hard and rubbed his head. “I got scared and told him I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. You know, the guy was seventy-five. You’d think he’d understand. But it made him mad. He told me I owed him for all the money he spent on me. What did I think—that it was just a free ride?” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Quite frankly, that is what I thought it was. I thought I’d be out of there with some cash long before he ever demanded anything physical from me.”

  “So, you were after his money?” Bea had a way of making that sick accusation sound almost cute.

  “You would be, too, if he bought you everything you wanted.” There wasn’t a shred of remorse in Patrick’s face as he continued. “But when I saw that he wasn’t going to play nice anymore, I threatened to tell his high-rolling clients that he was a fraud. I told him I’d ruin his reputation. Some of those people made life-or-death decisions based on his seeing the future. I mean real heavy decisions. Like to get chemotherapy or not, or to get a divorce or not. I couldn’t say how many lives he ruined. But let’s face it, if you are seeking a psychic to ask whether or not you should get chemo, you are pretty far gone already.”

  “Niles didn’t like that, I’ll bet,” I said once I pulled my jaw off the floor.

  “I told the police I saw him about two weeks before they found his body. He told me that was when the ritual was to start. That was when we had our fight.”

  “Did you witness any of the ritual?” Bea asked carefully.

  “When Niles came at me with one of those squiggly knives you see in all those old sorcerer movies, I left. I haven’t been back in the house since.”

  “Not even once?” I prodded.

  How would he be able to tell Jake and Blake there was a person prowling around the grounds if he hadn’t come back to the house? He looked up at me and bit his lip.

  “I went back once. There has been a prowler around my house. He wears a scary mask that looks like mud or slime or something. I thought…” Patrick’s eyes began to water. “I thought that maybe Niles had come back from the dead and was looking to make good on his promise that we’d be together. Forever, like he said.”

  Bea took both of Patrick’s hands in hers.

  “You’ll be all right, Patrick.”

  When Bea stood up, she wobbled a little. I slipped my arm through hers and pulled her toward the sliding door, which was still open.

  “You might want to remember to close your sliding door,” I called over my shoulder.

  “I was a little drunk when I got home.” He chuckled as we left. I wasn’t surprised that was his reply.

  “So? What did you get from that?” I asked, helping Bea into the car.

  “That man is not going to live much longer if he doesn’t change,” Bea said as she let out a deep breath.

  I handed her a bottle of water that was underneath the front seat. Bea took a long drink and shook her head.

  “He’s a whirlpool of blackmail and lies and guilt. Not to mention a good deal of vodka and maybe a hint of some kind of narcotic. What a waste.”

  I got in the car, and we sped back to the café. When we got there, I was shocked to see another scary thing had shown up. Tom and his mother.

  16

  Psychic Powers

  “This is a nice surprise,” I lied as I walked in behind Bea. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We were hoping to have some coffee and a sweet roll or something with you before I had to go off to work, but you weren’t here.” Tom’s voice was aggravated.

  “I had something I had to do with Bea this morning. I thought you were bogged down with work and that’s why you didn’t call.” I shot back with a smile. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have adjusted my schedule.”

  Now, some people said I looked for trouble. I wouldn’t say I actively looked for it. I just had the tendency to spot it before it got close. When I looked over at Tom’s mother, I could have sworn she was smiling.

  Sure, maybe it was an uncomfortable grin for an uncomfortable situation between her son and his girlfriend. But I couldn’t help but get the feeling that Patience was enjoying this.

  I tried to remember what Jake said. Reaching out an olive branch right now was nearly impossible, but I choked out the words.

  “Patience, if you aren’t in a hurry, maybe you’d like to stay and have coffee with me.” Surprisingly, I sounded convincing. I looked at Tom. “Would that be okay?”

  “I think that would be fine,” Patience replied, but she came across as though she were making a chess move instead of really accepting my invitation to get to know me.

  Tom’s feathers smoothed a little.

  “Well, I wish I could stay, but I’m already going to be late. I’ll call you tonight.” He kissed me quickly on the cheek and hurried out of the café.

  “Patience, what can I get you?” I smiled as if all I ever wanted was to wait on Patience Warner sometime in my life.

  “Just a bottled water,” she said.

  “Would you like an almond croissant or one of Bea’s peanut-butter bars? Kevin, our baker, also made some oatmeal coo—”

  “Just the water.”

  I nodded and smiled. When I turned around, I caught a glimpse of Aunt Astrid. She’d looked as though she’d just licked a lemon as she studied Patience.

  “So what are you going to do today while Tom is at work?” I asked, handing Patience the bottle and taking a seat at one of the tables for two by the window.

  “Why don’t we not pretend we really want to get to know each other?” She smiled a horrible, condescending grin at me.

  “What?” I felt as if I’d been slapped.

  “I know all about you. You are all that Tom has talked about for the past couple of months. The waitress at the coffee shop.”

  She said those words as though they were a disease.

  “I’m sure you are very nice. But you and Tom, you’re a temporary thing.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “No. You did.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “I never said any such thing. Even though I’m not reserving a hall in June, I ca
re very much about Tom.” I leaned across the table just so I wouldn’t have to talk too loudly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know more than you think.” Her right eyebrow arched. “There is someone else who is more complementary to your… lifestyle. Tom won’t be on the police force for much longer. When he leaves it, you’ll be feeling betrayed and disappointed like he promised you something. You’ll resent him. That will be the end.”

  “Do you really think it’s the uniform that does it for me? What do I look like? A teenager? I’m a grown woman, and I know why I feel for Tom the way I do.”

  As much as I wanted to tell Patience she was wrong, my gut twisted as if it had been suddenly poked. I was afraid she’d hit a nerve.

  “Why is that?” Patience smirked. This was her sport.

  My eyes began to water. Had I thought I could get away with it, I would have reached across the short span of the table and slapped that look to the floor. But instead I squared my shoulders.

  “Because he accepts me for what I am,” I nearly whispered.

  “And what is that?” It was as if she were feeding off my sadness. Under her gaze, I wanted to just shrink under the table. Why was this person doing this to me? She was like a middle-aged Darla Castellano, my high school nemesis.

  “You know, Cath, I heard that your mother and father left because of you. Is that true?”

  With Darla, the deaths of my parents were fair game. If I were to ask her about it now, she probably wouldn’t even remember having said that to me. But as a sophomore, she might as well have punched me in the face.

  I had the feeling she and Patience would probably get along famously.

  “I’m different,” I said to Patience. It was the truth. I wasn’t going to give her any more ammunition to shoot at me with. “And this is my family’s café. The water is on me.” I got up and started toward the kitchen.

  “Cath, just wait one minute.”

  She actually said that. As if I was going to continue to sit and listen to her make fun of me. There was no way I was going to say another word to her. Not now, probably not ever.