1 A Paw-sible Theory (8 page)

“I love little pussy, her coat is so warm, and if I don’t hurt her she’ll do me no harm.”

––
Mother Goose rhyme

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
 
A Morning Like Any Other Morning

At the hospital, I was back at my post behind the screen in Alyx’s room.
 
As I peeked out her doorway, I saw David Hunter stopped at the nurse’s station, apparently asking the charge nurse if Alyx was well enough to interview.
 

“Dr. Casey’s instructions are that she can do what she’s able to, so let’s go to her room and see if she’s up to it,” I could hear the nurse say.

As the lawyer followed the nurse to Alyx’s room, I quickly sneaked behind the screen again––just in time. Hunter walked through the doorway behind the nurse who strode directly toward the bed. Raccoon eyes looked up when the nurse gently touched Alyx’s arm. Her short brown hair was flat in the back, bangs sticking out in front, but she didn’t seem to care.

“There’s a David Hunter here to see you. Are you up to answering some questions?”

At first, Alyx looked at the man blankly.

“I’m Ethan’s attorney, Ms. Hille.”

When she realized who he was, she brought her bed up to a sitting position and told the nurse that, yes, she’d be glad to speak to him. “I saw you on the news, the day someone sent me into oblivion. I liked what you said.”

Hunter inquired after her health and started right in.

“Before you tell me exactly what happened, I want you to think back to a few days before you were hit. Did you see anyone loitering around your house or your store? Anyone or anything that gave you pause?”

Alyx closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. I was worried about my human. She looked so tired.

“All right, now think carefully and tell me what happened Saturday morning before you blacked out. Tell me everything you saw or heard, no matter how unimportant a detail. What you might think routine may be a clue for me.”

Alyx took a deep breath. “I was up early. I made a pot of coffee and went out to get the paper. I put the breakfast items I needed on the counter, and sat at the kitchen table to read the paper while waiting for Ethan and Maggie to show up. I’d called them the night before and invited them over for breakfast...I owed Maggie an apology. I had reacted very badly to her suggestion that we should discuss the offer to sell our building and move Antiques & Designs somewhere else. And I had asked Ethan to come over because I wanted to talk to him about his spending habits in a calmer way than I had previously done––this time I had some concrete suggestions to offer.” She leaned over for a sip of the water sitting on the bed tray. “I didn’t see or hear anyone come in. That’s all I know, until I woke up here.”

“Did you leave the door unlocked when you went out for the paper?”

She gave it some thought. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. You were sitting at the table; maybe you looked out your window; what did you see?”

She closed her eyes again. “No, nothing. There was no one out there.”

“All right; let’s try it again. You were sitting at the table, the paper in front of you; you took a sip of coffee. What did you hear?”

“I was alone. I didn’t have the radio or television on. The cats were being cats. You know, chasing around the house, jumping on things.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. There’s just nothing there––I don’t know if I don’t remember or there’s nothing to remember.”

“Are you sure you didn’t see or hear a car come up your drive?” he asked.

“No, but I did get up from the table at one point. I heard scratching noises in the guestroom; I looked in and saw one of the cats trying to keep from falling off the back of the wicker day bed. She’s a little clumsy at times,” she added with a smile.

“Someone could have driven up then and you wouldn’t have heard or seen them, right?”

“No, I guess not, but I was just in the doorway for a minute. Why is this important?”

Before he answered, he squinted and rubbed his forehead. “Earlier today, I received a call from the Prosecutor. He said a witness had come forward, a neighbor down the street. He said he stepped outside to get his paper and he saw an SUV the same make and color your son drives, backing out of your drive about ten minutes before your son said he arrived.” I felt my fur rise when I heard this.

Alyx too seemed to tremble at the import of that accusation. “I stand by what I said. My son is innocent; he would never hurt me or anyone else for that matter. Please help him,” she implored, her eyes clouded, and she tried hard not to lose control.

David Hunter covered her hand with his and then abruptly removed it. “I believe Ethan is innocent and I will do the best I can for him.” He cleared his throat and continued, “You said you were going to speak to Ethan about his financial situation. Did you typically argue a lot about his spending habits?”

She shook her head. “I knew he was making good money and for the first time in a long time, Ethan could buy what he wanted as well as just what he needed. Although he didn’t discuss his finances with me, I did caution him about the credit card trap he could easily fall into, but every time I brought it up, he told me not to worry; he knew what he was doing. I thought he should make his own decisions, and I didn’t press him. I didn’t know how deep in debt he was until recently. As for arguments, we never really argued about anything; we had parent-adult child disagreements over his spending.”

“Did he ever ask you for money?”

“No, Ethan never asked me for anything. He learned at an early age that I could provide for our needs, but not necessarily for what he wanted.”

She smiled wistfully. “Whenever he asked for something, I would ask him if it was a want or a need. Most times, the poor baby would lower his head and tell me he just wanted it. It broke my heart when I had to tell him no. I couldn’t be too hard on him about his spending. I knew he was trying to fulfill all those wants he had missed, those things I couldn’t give him.”

“What about his break-up with his longtime girlfriend? I understand he went through some serious depression.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, it hurt him deeply and I suggested he see a doctor. I thought a he could give him something to help him through it, and it did.”

Hunter then showed her a picture of what the reassembled broken pot looked like. “This is the pot you were presumably hit with; do you recognize it?”

She looked at it carefully. “I have the pots Ethan made in high school all over the house––a mother’s pride, you know. This one was right above where I was sitting, close to the edge on the upper cabinets.”

“I’d like to take another look at the crime scene. Who should I contact?”

“Maggie can let you in. I’ll let her know to expect your call.”

“Does she have a key to your house?”

“Yes, she does. I gave it to her when I went to a show in Georgia, and I haven’t asked for it back. I think I just forgot about it.”

“Tell me about Maggie.”

“Maggie is my closest friend and business partner. She wouldn’t have had anything to do with this.”

“I’m not saying she did, Ms. Hille; this is part of the discovery process. I’ll be speaking to her as well as others.”

“Okay, I understand. I met Maggie when I was taking design classes at Beachside Community College. We found we had a lot in common, even though she doesn’t have any children or pets, is twice married and, as she often says, has been burned in love more times than she cares to admit.

We both worked a number of meaningless jobs for large homogenizing institutions that didn’t recognize individual effort and achievement. She understood what it takes for an older woman to succeed in a man’s world dominated by youth. We often talked about owning our own business and not having to depend on anyone to take care of us.

I encouraged her to stay in school when it became too heavy a load and she wanted to quit, not realizing at the time that what I had said to her was also strengthening my resolve to change my life for the better. You could say our friendship was the crutch that kept us both on the path to a secure future.

Our dream was finally realized when we opened Antiques, each contributing our own unique style and talent to the endeavor. Her concept of a casual atmosphere; no pressure to buy, yet finding assistance nearby if needed and my idea that the store should look like someone’s home, so the customer could easily imagine how a particular item would fit in the room they were decorating is what made the store an overnight success. Two months ago, we hired two employees––Charvette and Bernice––giving us the opportunity to develop the interior design part of the business.

Our first job came about when an older couple, who had recently moved down from New Jersey, bought the first house built on the beachside in 1884 to restore it to a bed-and-breakfast. The couple came to Antiques to look for furnishings for their own home and liked our decorating style. They hired us to decorate the B & B after its completion, but as it turned out, we ended up assisting with many elements of the restoration.

Maggie suggested that the owners host an open house and invite the press. The event turned into a community affair, with several other historic B & B’s taking part, the owners dressed in period costumes and serving authentic turn-of-the-century recipes. Along with the tourists, it seemed like the whole town turned out for the event, resulting in positive exposure and business for Antiques & Designs.

I often wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t met Maggie.”

I admit I so enjoyed hearing Maggie tell about how she and Alyx and met and started their business that I almost forgot about the seriousness of the present situation.

“All right, Ms. Hille, I don’t want to tire you out any more than necessary, but I do have a couple more questions. Are you up to continuing or should I come back?”

“Please call me Alyx, and I’m fine. What else do you want to know?”

“I learned from your son and your business partner, that there was resentment against you on the part of some of your neighboring business owners,” he said, repeating what Maggie and Ethan had told him. ”Do you think any of them would want to hurt you?”

She bit her lower lip and looked away. “I don’t know. No, I really don’t think so.”

“What about Dan Ramsey?”

“I think Dan Ramsey is more envious of our influence over the other merchants, than he is resentful of the changes Maggie and I suggested. Before Antiques moved in, everything closed down at five in the evening and on Sundays. It took Maggie and me three months to convince the Downtown Merchants Association to see the wisdom of extending their daily hours and staying open seven days a week. The resistance came mostly from the merchants who regarded their business as a hobby rather than a business. Some still resent the change, the most vocal being Dan Ramsey. Judging from his outburst at the Merchant’s Association meeting, he looked angry enough to want to kill me, but I don’t think it was him.”

“Either one––jealousy or resentment––can be a motive for murder,” Hunter said as he pulled a business card from his coat pocket and wrote his home phone number on the back.

“If you remember anything else, anything at all, call my office, my cell phone or my home if it’s after business hours.”

“If there is a trial, what are Ethan’s chances?”

“At this point, the prosecution’s case is strong. No doubt, they will, bring up the fact that Ethan needed cash to keep up with his acquired tastes. They will press the issue that he stood to gain the most by the sale of the building, and that he tried to kill you because you wouldn’t sell, or maybe your arguing just got out of hand. If he’s found guilty, he could receive the minimum of three years. There’s always a chance he could be found not guilty––there’s also the possibility he could receive a life sentence.”

“I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I’d like to be kept in the loop regarding Ethan’s defense. However, I do understand that, officially, my ex-husband Bob is your client, and you don’t have to tell me anything.”