Of murder and men, p.8
Of Murder and Men, page 8
She walked into the study and almost dropped her coffee.
“I really don’t mean to scare you. I was waiting for you to awaken. Your friend Ms. Clodagh is an early riser, isn’t she?”
Dante Cornelio sat at Michael’s desk, his long wool coat draped over the top. He was drinking coffee from a mug advertising the coffee shop downtown, The Morning Bean.
“I would like it if you actually knocked on the door at least once before breaking and entering. What is this, a family tradition?” Cat felt furious. How could she get on with her life with the past sneaking in at all times of the day? She could see that she’d scored a point when Dante winced. He’d told her a few months ago that Martin, his nephew, had been the one who’d been causing all the strange noises in her house along with a series of prank telephone calls. The kid had been trying to scare her. Dante just liked surprising her.
“Martin has apologized for his misdoings. And he still raves about Ms. Clodagh’s beef stew. Apparently, it’s better than his mom’s.” A sad smile creased his lips, causing a dimple to form on one cheek. “I’m sorry for her loss.”
Darn, the man was handsome. Short blond hair, sea-green eyes, chiseled chin—he could pose for a romance cover. Cat sat down in her reading chair, using the small table to free her hands of the muffin and coffee. She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “I’m really not in the mood for small talk. What do you want, Dante?”
He looked at her, a mix of pity and amusement bouncing in his gaze. “Very well, I will get to the point. You have to realize, though, I am interested in you, Catherine. Very interested.”
“Well, if that’s why you’re here, we can end this now. I’m dating someone and not on the market for another relationship.” She paused, waiting for a reaction. When none came, she cocked an eyebrow. “Are we done?”
“Actually, there was something I needed to speak with you about. I’m afraid the Michael problem hasn’t completely gone away. I’d hoped that by leaving the issue alone that, well, some people would also leave you alone.”
A cold chill ran down Cat’s back. She knew the answer to her question before she asked it. “What Michael issue?”
“You trying to figure out why he’s dead. That issue, or had you truly forgotten about your husband and his untimely death?” Dante stood, and picked up his coat. “I will do all I can do to keep you safe, but you need to be careful.”
“Keep me safe from who?” Cat couldn’t move. “Was Michael working for you?”
Dante slipped on his coat and then paused next to her. He brushed her hair out of her eyes with one finger. “You are quite remarkable. Just stay safe, please.”
He stroked her hair, then left the room. When Cat got her breath back, she jerked upright and ran to the lobby. It was empty. She looked up the stairs and then burst into the kitchen.
Shauna jumped at the movement. She put her hand over her heart. “You scared me. Did you get the study cleaned?”
“Did he leave?” Cat ran to the door and peered out the window.
“What are you talking about? Did who leave?”
Cat turned around and faced her friend. “Dante Cornelio.”
Shauna’s eyes widened. “He was here?”
“He just left the study. I didn’t see him in the lobby so I thought he came through here.” She walked over to her friend. “So he didn’t come through the kitchen.”
“No. Believe me, if I’d seen Dante stroll through my kitchen, I would have stopped him and made him tell me why he was here in the first place.” Shauna went to refill her coffee cup. “Do you need more?”
“Let me go get my cup, and I’ll tell you why he was here.” Cat headed to the study to retrieve her coffee and treat. She glanced around the empty space. How had Dante left so quickly? Through the front door? Or had he popped into the dining room to refill his coffee and left after Cat had run into the kitchen? The guy was human, not a spectral image. Or at least she thought so.
She went back into the kitchen and told Shauna about her conversation with Dante. As she finished up, Shauna summarized her feelings about what Cat had relayed in one word. “Crap.”
“I know, right?” Cat took a second muffin. “So what do you think he meant by keeping me safe? Am I on some Mob guy’s hit list now? For wondering what happened to Michael? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Or you were getting too close to the truth.” Shauna tapped a fingernail painted a glossy black on the table. “I’m glad I asked Seth to stay over this week. Things are getting strange around here.”
“No more than usual. And I was thinking we might have a quiet retreat this month.” Cat rolled her shoulders. “Anyway, I have things I need to get done. I can’t be worried about who and when someone’s going to whack me.”
“You should call your uncle.” Shauna nodded to add emphasis to her words, more to herself than anyone else. She did that when she was stressed. Cat liked to call it “convincing yourself.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like he said anything Uncle Pete could follow up on. And he’s already told me to stay away from Dante.” Of course, with him showing up all the time at the house, unannounced, it wasn’t really her fault. It wasn’t like she was going looking for him. Besides, it was her house. If she called Uncle Pete about anything, it would be to have him tell Dante to stop showing up. “Like that would do any good,” she muttered
Seth strolled into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a John Denver T-shirt. He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat at the table, and opened the paper. Then he asked, “What?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Cat shot Shauna a look, and her friend shrugged and gave a look that said, It’s your life. “What’s on your schedule today?”
“Hank is coming by around noon and hopefully, we’ll get your attic up to a reasonable temperature. Do you need me for something?”
“The books?” Cat pulled out her own calendar and looked at the to-do list. “Maybe we should put that off until next week once the retreat’s over?”
“I can take them over this morning if I can use the SUV. I don’t want the boxes to get wet.” He pulled out the sports section and passed the local over to Shauna. “You know I’m not buying the ‘nothing I need to worry about,’ right?”
Shauna paused, her hand on the front page. “I was going to take it this morning. My compact doesn’t do well with icy roads.”
“Do we need groceries?” Cat glanced at the fridge. She’d thought it had looked full, but then again, Shauna had been on a baking tear the last couple days.
“No …” Shauna rubbed the back of her neck.
Now Cat was curious. “Then where are you going?”
Shauna stood and walked to the oven to check on her strata. “If you have to know, I’m going out to the ranch to give Paul a piece of my mind.”
Chapter 8
Cat looked at the clock. Shauna had left over an hour ago. On good days, it took thirty minutes to get to the ranch. The roads were clear. She should already be on her way back.
Professor Turner was telling his one and only Hemingway joke to start up the lecture. The joke Cat had heard at least a dozen times. Each time, he got a few titters, but even Cat with an English degree didn’t understand the literary reference. She sat in the corner, her notebook in her lap, but instead of working on the plot outline for her next book, she was writing down everything she knew about Kevin.
She had no plans to try to solve Kevin’s murder, but she really needed Uncle Pete to figure it out so Shauna could move on with her life. Of course, if information just happened to fall into her lap, she wouldn’t look the other way. Who was she kidding? She’d become addicted to the rush of adrenaline solving a murder gave her.
So far, Cat had Paul at the top of the list with two stars. No matter what Shauna thought, the guy had monetary reasons to want Kevin gone. And how did he really feel about Shauna and Kevin’s engagement? Cat also wrote down Paul’s sister. It wasn’t a big stretch that a woman who was raising Kevin’s sons wouldn’t be excited to hear that her baby daddy was getting married. And what about this high school sweetheart whose son had been cut off when the kid hit eighteen? That had to sting. She’d been thinking about this for less than an hour and had three good suspects. And that was only a list of possible killers based on Kevin’s love life. There had to be a bunch of suspects from his business dealings. The man was known as a hard-driving businessman. He’d bought most of his land holdings at rock-bottom prices when the prior owners were unable to pull out of debt.
She needed to stop thinking about Kevin and who, besides her friend, would want to kill him. Sometimes her best ideas came when she was thinking about something else. And Cat had plenty to think about. She turned the page and stared at the white, blank space. She needed a new story. In Tori’s world, it was the summer before junior year. Before Cat knew it, her main character would graduate and move on to college. Should the series follow her, or should she start with a new fish-out-of-water character and keep the high school setting? Maybe Tori has a cousin? Cat had a lot of questions, but not very many answers. Yet.
She made notes about a new main character and spinning the series off into eight new books. She could take this series and follow Tori to college. She made a note to email her agent about the idea, then started working on Tori’s summer plans. By the time the lecture was over, she had a good start on the new book. Where it would start, what the main conflict would be, and where it would end. Everything in between was up to Tori and the other characters. Or at least, that’s how the process had worked for the last three books. She didn’t want to look too hard at the muse or change things up while they were working.
Professor Turner was already packing his suitcase, and the room was empty besides the two of them. Her guests would be making their way to town for lunch soon. Maybe she should schedule his talk for later in the day, to keep people talking longer, but Cat knew some groups just didn’t love Hemingway. A fact she couldn’t tell the professor since he didn’t understand the concept.
“Thank you for coming. It was a lovely lecture.” Cat tucked her notebook under her arm. Professor Turner didn’t need to know she hadn’t been furiously taking notes during his session.
“I’m afraid I’m a little flat this month. What with losing the dean position, and the theft of a prized piece of the Hemingway collection, personally it’s been a bad winter.” He looked up from his packing and gave Cat a small smile. “I’m awaiting the arrival of spring to set my mood to happier things.”
“I was sorry to hear they brought in someone from another school for the position.” Cat handed him the coat he’d laid on the desk when he walked in. “It’s not fair, especially since you were doing such a great job as acting dean.”
“You are too kind, but I believe I was just surviving. And the board knew that.” He slipped on his wool coat. “I’ve come to accept that administration isn’t one of my strengths. I’m better in the classroom, enriching young minds.”
“Well, I’m just glad you have time for my retreat guests. Having the Hemingway papers here at Covington adds to the draw of my retreat.” Cat walked with him to the front door. “Thanks again. I know they all enjoyed the discussion.”
“Hemingway is a fascinating fellow. Who wouldn’t enjoy an hour listening to stories about one of the masters of the craft?” Professor Turner wrapped his scarf around his neck and opened the front door. “See you next month, Catherine.”
Cat closed the door behind him and turned and leaned into it. Another man who insisted on calling her Catherine. What was it with teachers? She’d never gotten any of her elementary, junior high, or high school teachers to call her Cat. Just Cat. Three little letters. When she’d gone to Covington, she’d registered that way, and, therefore, no one had had her first name. Until she’d started teaching and Dean Vargas had insisted she use her full name as it sounded more professional.
She closed her eyes and thought about the argument they’d had on the subject just after he’d hired her. Looking back, she knew if Michael hadn’t intervened in her getting the job, her inability to keep her mouth shut with the dean would have blackballed her from teaching not only at Covington, but at a lot of the local colleges. But the school hadn’t wanted to lose one of their best economic professors. Cat heard footsteps and looked up to find Shirley watching her.
“The man could put a meth head to sleep.” Shirley held up her travel mug. “I should have stocked up on coffee before going into that seminar. I thought I’d liked the stories, but after that lecture, I started to wonder who even reads Hemingway anymore?”
“College kids.” Cat pushed herself away from the door. “Are you on your way into town for lunch?”
“In a few. I wanted to find out where I could look through your ex-husband’s papers. I suppose you’ve already gotten rid of a lot of them, but a good detective never assumes anything.” Shirley took a sip of coffee as she waited.
“You really don’t need to work on this. You’re here for your writing, not to find out who killed Michael.” Cat felt uncomfortable even talking about this. She’d tried to dissuade Shirley earlier, but apparently, the hint had fallen on deaf ears.
“I don’t need to, I want to. Besides, you and your uncle have been so gracious, I’d like to return the favor. Just let me do my thing, and if I haven’t found anything by week’s end, I’ll go back to Alaska and forget about it. Honestly, once I get home, I’ll be too busy to worry much about some cold case.” She held out one hand, palm up. “What can it hurt?”
Cat thought about Dante’s warning. If she allowed Shirley to dig into Michael’s past, would that rile up anyone who was still watching the house? She made a quick decision: no man was going to sneak into her house, scare her, then dictate what she could and couldn’t do about her history. “You’re right.” She pointed toward the stairs. “There are a bunch of boxes in my office on the third floor. I’ve been going through them and trying to determine what, if anything, I’m going to keep.”
“I’ll also need a new spiral notebook. Got any of those up there?”
“Third drawer in my file cabinet. There should be a stack from last year’s back-to-school sales.” In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.
As she watched Shirley go up the stairs, she saw Sasha come down. Cat met her at the bottom of the stairs. “How are things going? Are you enjoying your time?”
Sasha broke into a big grin. “It’s been lovely. I spent the morning cuddled up on my window seat reading, attended the Hemingway session, and now, Pamela and Melissa want me to go to lunch with them to talk about the whole bookstore business.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” Cat was also glad Sasha had lunch plans since Shauna still wasn’t back from the ranch and there was nothing cooking in the kitchen. “I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. It would be just you, me, Shauna, and Seth, if he’s not busy. We need to catch up on your life. You’ve had some big changes.”
A brief look of pain crossed Sasha’s face, and for a second, Cat wondered if she’d said something wrong. Then the look was gone and a smile replaced it.
“I’d love to.” She looked around the lobby. “This really is a lovely home. I can’t quite believe you’re opening it up to share it with people like me.”
“Smart, intelligent book lovers like you?”
Sasha laughed. “You know, sometimes I still feel like that scared teenager who didn’t know what she was going to do with no job, no education, and a little baby who was depending on her. I didn’t always make the best choices in life.”
“And yet, look at you now. You’re on a great path and you’ve given your little girl the best gift ever.” Cat appraised the pretty young woman standing in front of her. Sasha had gone through some hard years and made it out, if not unscarred, stronger. “You’re teaching her to follow her dreams.”
Sasha gave Cat a quick hug. “And you’re opening up another whole world for me. I just might go home with more dreams for the future.”
“That’s not a bad place to be in your life.” Cat glanced at the clock. “Meet me down here at six and we’ll head over to the new farm-to-table restaurant out near the highway. Shauna’s been dying to eat there.”
As Melissa and Pamela came chatting down the stairs, Cat watched the twenty-something women get ready to leave. They weren’t much younger than Cat, but they all had their lives ahead of them. She’d been married, divorced, and kind of widowed, and had worked as a professor and now a writer and hostess for a retreat. That was more than some people had happen to them in a lifetime. And yet, she knew there was more ahead for her. A family maybe? She hoped Shauna could bounce back from losing Kevin and this didn’t derail her from her own future. Kicking Paul’s butt this morning was probably a good sign she was working through the grief steps.
Cat went into the kitchen to work on her book outline while she waited for Shauna to come back. She made a note on tomorrow’s list for Seth to drop off Michael’s books at the library. As she pondered the Michael thing, she wondered what, if anything, Shirley would find in the papers. She’d still have to go through the boxes just to make sure there wasn’t anything personal or embarrassing to Michael’s memory before she handed them over to Professor Ngu. After the brief encounter she’d had yesterday, she still felt there was something he wasn’t telling her. He hadn’t even blinked when she walked in, demanding information, even after she’d told him to back off at the restaurant. Of course, the guy did have a job besides annoying Cat.
Frustrated, she closed her notebook and grabbed a soda out of the fridge. She wasn’t getting anything done on the new book anyway. She looked one more time out the window at the completely empty street and then headed into the study. She could finish cleaning out the desk while she waited and most of the guests were out of the house.
She paused before opening the door. Then, hating herself for the hesitation, she pushed through the doorway. If Dante was sitting in Michael’s chair, this time she’d call Uncle Pete. She was done feeling uncertain in her own home. And whatever this place used to be for her and Michael, now it was her home. And she wouldn’t be intimidated by a room or a man who really shouldn’t be in her life in the first place.
