Free The Cat, the Lady and the Liar by Leann Sweeney Page B

put Isis in her place, but that didn’t mean they wanted her around permanently.
    I pulled on a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt with a picture of a rather mean-looking Persian cat. The quote beneath the picture said, IF YOU WANT A FRIEND, GET A DOG. Of course, Persians are sweet cats and my felines are the best friends I could ever have, but the picture and quote made me smile.
    Candace arrived thirty minutes later, but it wasn’t until we were done with our decadent chili dogs and fries that Isis made her appearance. She promptly spit at Candace, her coat burgeoning to twice its size. Taking the straw from my drink, I drew up some coffee and used the straw like a blow dart to splatter the cold liquid in Isis’s face. She blinked and sat down. But her glare didn’t last as long as her previous attempts to intimidate me. She washed her face and then came over and rubbed against Candace’s chair. What a little suck-up. But she made me laugh. Seems she was learning that this wasn’t the Longworth Estate.
    I’d been updating Candace on today’s visit to Woodcrest while we ate. Now I told her how Isis had definitely begun to learn a few lessons.
    After daring to pet Isis for a few seconds, Candace said, “Sounds to me like your work is done. Find this cat a home—and fast.”
    I sighed. “Not yet. Call it intuition, but something doesn’t feel right about all this.”
    “There is nothing right about people changing drastically when they get older. It’s difficult. Take my mother—please.”
    I laughed at the old Dangerfield joke.
    “No, really,” Candace went on. “Mom had certain traits when I was a kid that seemed a little controlling. But now? It’s so much worse, and it drives me nuts.”
    “I understand,” I said. “But as far as Ritaestelle Long-worth? Don’t you think it’s odd to go from having money out the wazoo to stealing cheap stuff from the drugstore? That seems like such a major turnaround. My brain tells me to leave this alone, but my heart is telling me this is a woman who could use a friend.”
    Candace shook her head vigorously. “Don’t, Jillian. Leave this alone. You’ve gone above and beyond. Just call it quits.”
    I sighed. “You’re right.”
    Candace pulled a Rear Window DVD from the canvas tote she’d brought inside. “This is the special edition with the trailer narrated by Jimmy Stewart. Let’s forget everything for a couple hours, okay?”
    And so we did. Candace and I share a love of old movies, especially Hitchcock, and we enjoyed every minute. Isis even cozied up to Candace for a while, but then she and Chablis started chasing each other. I was amazed. Talk about turnarounds.
    Once we both started yawning, Candace headed for home around ten p.m. I set the security alarm, poured myself a glass of water and went to my bedroom. The dress I probably wouldn’t wear again for another year still lay on the floor. I tossed it into the closet, again missing the hamper. I shut the door and made a beeline for my bed.
    But before I could climb beneath the covers, the doorbell rang.
    Huh?
    The only person besides Candace who would show up at my place this late without calling was Kara. My heart thumped against my chest. Was something wrong? And why didn’t Kara call me if there was a problem?
    I hurried to the kitchen, shut off the alarm and rushed to the foyer. But when I looked through the peephole, it wasn’t Kara after all. The woman I recognized on my doorstep made me gasp in surprise.
    Ritaestelle Longworth.

Nine
    T he surprise must have still been evident on my face when I opened the door, because Ritaestelle Longworth said, “You weren’t expecting me?” She smiled amiably.
    Then I realized she wore a white chenille bathrobe with her initials in scrolled gold embroidery on the left pocket. She also had a red Velcro hair roller in her silver bangs and a honey-colored Coach handbag over her arm.
    “I—I . . . Please come inside.” I opened the door wider and then