Free The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery by Leann Sweeney Page B

you’d tell me what I need to know,” she said with fire in her eyes, “I could relay information to Candace and he could go home in a New York minute. But if you don’t come through with anything helpful, they might make him sleep in the jail tonight.”
    Now she was trying to make me feel guilty. I wanted to scream with frustration. Instead I repeated, “I don’t know anything more.” To myself I added, Because you, Lydia, aren’t the one who holds the key to him leaving the police station. It’s Candace.
    “Back to my earlier question. How did Tom get so banged up? Was he in the Prius when it crashed?” she said.
    I wanted to thunk myself on the forehead with my palm. Of course. Candace and Lydia could be assuming his injuries came from being in the car with Nolan when it crashed. “You’re an expert at seeing folks who’ve suffered injuries. Did his face look like he’d been in a wreck, Lydia?”
    She sat straight up and leaned toward me, realization brightening her face. “No. Absolutely not. For once we’re on the same page. Now that I think about it, his face looked like he’d been in a fight, not in any car accident.”
    “But Candace wants to hear what happened directly from him. Makes sense to me,” I said. “Could be he’s helping her piece evidence together and it’s taking longer than you expected.”
    She pointed at me again. “You know something. Why won’t you help me help Tom?”
    For once her instincts were right. I knew about a troubled, sleeping eighteen-year-old in my guest room. What I didn’t know was if he was somehow connected to Roth’s death. And I wasn’t about to speculate on that with Lydia Monk. Fortunately, Merlot ambled in from the hallway, probably having grown tired of waiting outside the guest room door for the dog to reappear.
    Lydia threw up her hands in disgust. “Oh, for crying out loud, here’s the other cat. I have got to get out of this… this cattery.” She stood. “I hope you can sleep tonight knowing you refused to help a good and decent man who is supposed to be your friend.”
    She stood and took a wide path around Merlot since he had stopped and was staring up at her, his big tail twitching at the tip.
    “Bye, Lydia,” I called after her.
    She responded by slamming my front door after she went out.
    I’d left my phone in the bedroom when I’d undressed earlier. I picked up Chablis and went to my room, the other two cats beating a path ahead of me. They were ready to settle down for the night.
    I sat cross-legged on my bed and dialed Candace. Her phone went straight to voice mail. Since I knew Tom didn’t have a phone, I decided to call the Mercy Police Station.
    B. J. Harrington, a part-time dispatcher, answered.
    “Hi, B.J., it’s Jillian,” I said.
    “Hey, Mrs. Hart. You got a problem over at the lake?” He sounded concerned.
    Such a sweet kid, I thought. “No problems,” I replied. “I’d like to talk to Candace, if she’s still there.”
    “Oh, she’s here. Everyone the city council hasn’t laid off is here.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “There’s been a murder.”
    “I heard, which is kind of why I wanted to talk to her,” I said.
    “You know something about this case?” he said.
    “I don’t know anything directly. I just need to talk to Candace as soon as possible.”
    “Sounds like you do know something,” he said.
    “You practicing what you’re learning in those criminology classes on me now?” I said with a laugh—though I’d never felt less like laughing in my life.
    “Guess I am. Sorry, Mrs. Hart, but I can’t interrupt Deputy Carson’s interview. She’s been collecting evidence, trying to find witnesses and has been talking to Tom. She’d have me for lunch if I stuck my head in the interview room.”
    “You’re right. Candace might get upset,” I said. “Is Chief Baca there, too?” I asked. “Maybe he could—”
    “He’s in the room with Tom, too. I can have one of them phone you