Kitty Litter Killer (15 page)

I deliberately turned my mind to other things, and in just a few minutes, the heat of the bathwater began to loosen the tension in my muscles. I let my brain run on autopilot. I thought about Abbie, Philip, the Adlers, Clark, kitty litter, and Cunningham and Son. How could Max be thinking about hiring someone like Leighton? He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even from around here. They’d just moved here from. . . I sat up abruptly, splashing the floor with water. Leighton and Hayley had lived in New York City. They were new in town. He was a hunter and owned rifles. And they had kitty litter.

What connection would they have with Philip? Or did I just want them to be guilty of something because the Cunninghams thought they were so perfect?

Chapter Eleven

It was Thursday morning—two weeks and two days before Abbie’s wedding. Once again, I’d slept fitfully. While the kids got ready for school, I sat at the table in the kitchen and perused my clue notebook

Under
Suspects,
I quickly jotted down
Hayley and Leighton Whitmore
before I could lecture myself about being biased. Instead, I told myself that a good sleuth follows up all possible leads, no matter what.

When Max walked into the kitchen in a classic gray suit, I murmured hello but kept my eyes on my words. I was still slightly irritated with him.

He bent over to kiss my temple. “I’m sorry about last night. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I might have a job idea for you. Just let me think a little bit more, okay?”

I glanced up at him in surprise. “Really? At Cunningham and Son?”

“Yes and no.” He grinned. “I’m not going to say anything else right now, so don’t ask.”

He disappeared through the door to the garage. I felt humbled, and self-reproach knocked aside my self-righteous crankiness. Max loved me. Enough to allow me to be happy, despite what he wanted. Love sometimes means making choices we don’t want to make for the sake of someone else. Doing things we don’t want to do. I had a feeling this was a lesson the Lord was trying to teach me. And class wasn’t over yet.

Maybe I could hurry my lesson along by trying to help my mother. My first stop after dropping off Chris at the sitter’s would be to visit Gail. Maybe I could make a difference.

Gail’s house had once stood alone in the middle of ten acres, but as her family grew, she and her husband had subdivided the property, giving each child an acre on which to build a home. That said something about her that went beyond her weirdness and sniping at me. She was loyal to the people she loved, and they returned that loyalty. That was another reason I was surprised by the intensity of the bitterness between her and Ma.

I pulled into the driveway and saw a curtain twitch on one of the front windows. When I got to the door, I rang the bell and waited. Finally, Gail opened the door just enough for me to see her.

“What do you want? If your mother sent you, you can tell her to be happy with Linda.”

“She didn’t send me,” I said. “I came on my own.”

Gail didn’t move; she just stood like a sentry at the door.

“Can I please come in and talk?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re sure you’re not here because your mother sent you?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I was trying to think of something that would make her open the door to me. And something that would start the conversation without talking directly about her and Ma. “I—I want to talk to you about Linda.”

The mention of Linda’s name lit a fire in Gail’s eyes. I’d said the right thing. She flung the door open and motioned for me to come in.

“Just go to the living room.” She nodded to a room to the left where a soap opera played on the television. “You want anything to drink?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I won’t be long.”

I sat on a beige and blue plaid couch. She dropped heavily into a beige recliner. I looked at her more closely, concerned by the lines in her face. Despite her propensity for joining my mother in marathon Trish-sniping sessions, I liked her. Probably because she’d been my mother’s faithful friend for longer than I could remember. Loyalty is something I prize.

“Now,” she said, “what do you want to know about that tramp?”

“Linda?”

“Certainly. There aren’t any other tramps we were talking about, are there?”

“Well, if—”

“Linda’s takin’ your ma for a ride. I tried to warn her, but she won’t listen to me. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now, but I’ll tell you what. She said she needs extra money, but I’m not sure. I think the girl wants something.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. “I thought she was pretty nice. A little dense, maybe.”

“Well, that shows you what you know,” Gail said.

I found comfort in her familiar dig at me.

“Don’t let her fool you. Linda Faye went to school with my daughter. I know what she used to do. She acts ignorant and then stabs you in the back.”

“I guess I don’t know her that well. But people can change.”

Gail snorted. “Change? I doubt that. If you dye a zebra, you still have a zebra.”

“Yes, I guess that’s true. Only God can change a person’s heart.”

“And He’s got His work cut out for Him with people like Linda.” Gail’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed Philip Grenville. You do know that she slept with him, too, don’t you? She hated him.”

“I had no idea.” Philip’s transgressions had cut a wider swath through Four Oaks than I had imagined.

“Oh yes. Back when she lived out with her mama.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No. Philip tried to keep it hush-hush, and so did the women he was involved with. And he made the rounds, believe you me. Seducing them with his uniform and badge. Poor Abbie didn’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe she did,” I murmured. “Do you know who any of the other women were besides Linda?”

Gail’s face was twisted in anger. “He made passes at my daughter Terry, too, but he didn’t make any headway. I can’t remember who else there was.”

“So had he been in touch with Linda?”

“Yes. I overheard her tell one of her friends about it. First time at the fall festival. He wanted to meet with her, and that made her mad.”

I had already thought it odd that Philip had contacted Abbie. Now he had made contact with Linda.

“But she’s slick.” Gail’s eyes narrowed again. “Philip came into the shop for coffee, and Linda was as nice as pie to him.”

“Maybe that’s because she was at work. Or she thought that if she was nice to him, he’d leave her alone?”

Gail snorted. “No. Something’s up.” She breathed deeply, and her eyes drifted shut.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Her lids snapped open. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s my daughter. She’s having a hard time. Single mom, you know. She lost her job then got another one. She works with kids at the YMCA, but the hours are terrible. I have to drive my grandbaby to school for a while.”

A smile flickered briefly over Gail’s lips. “She’s in the fourth grade, you know, in a private school. No buses. We pay for it.”

I nodded. “It’s wonderful that you do that.”

Gail’s face hardened again. “Terry had just started dating someone, and it looked good for her. Met him through the kids she works with. Then Linda came along and stole him.”

Ah. Now the truth came out. Gail’s real reason for disliking Linda. “So she took your daughter’s boyfriend? Who was it?”

Gail huffed. “Clark Matthews. And then your ma has the nerve to hire Linda after she did that. I can’t believe it.”

Clark’s name kept popping up. He was beginning to sound like the proverbial Lothario. This also began to explain the rift between Ma and Gail.

“Why did Ma hire Linda? Did she know about all that?”

“No, but she should have had more sense.” Gail huffed. “I told her after she hired her, but she said she needed the help ’cause I wasn’t there.” She took a deep breath. “Now why didn’t she just fire Linda?”

I understood how Gail felt. But I knew that my mother couldn’t just fire someone based on Gail’s grudge. Was it possible this situation might not have a good ending?

“You two have been friends for so long,” I said.

“That’s my point,” she said. “I’m her friend. And she chose someone else.” She blinked rapidly, and for just a minute, I saw the real emotion behind the anger. Hurt. And I thought she might cry.

“I’m sorry it’s turned out this way,” I said. “I know Ma misses you.”

Gail recovered and snorted again. “If she missed me, she would get rid of that hussy.”

Although I’d failed in my mission to mend the rift between Gail and my mother, I had tried. I’d learned a few more interesting facts for my clue notebook. And I hoped my talk with Philip’s mother, June, would be as enlightening.

On my way to her house, I called Sherry to update her like I’d promised. She didn’t answer, so I left her a message telling her what I could and explaining I’d be busy most of the day. I wasn’t keen about talking to her, so I hoped she wouldn’t call back. I was walking a fine line trying to keep the things secret that needed to be kept secret.

June Grenville lived alone in a ranch home in a tiny town about twenty miles from me. She’d lived there for years. Nothing had changed since I’d last been there. That was when Abbie and Philip were married.

I took a deep breath and walked to the front porch, which was surrounded by tidy square flower beds and neatly trimmed evergreen shrubs.

The door opened shortly after I knocked. I was surprised. June didn’t look a day older than the last time I’d seen her, despite the grief etched on her face. Her hair was a little bit different. Not as long. Now it hung in a pale-blond pageboy.

“Trish, how nice to see you. Please come in.” She opened the door wide.

I walked past her into a tiled foyer, then I turned to face her. “Thank you for seeing me. I know this is a bad time.”

“Bad time. Yes. . .and no.”

That was a strange statement. I must have frowned. “I’ll explain in a few minutes,” she said with a tiny smile that revealed laugh lines around her eyes. “Please come and sit down. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” I said.

She took me to her living room in the front of the house where modern furniture and glass-topped tables adorned a celery-colored carpet.

I sat on the couch, and she sat across from me in a chair.

“So what can I do for you?” she asked. “Abbie indicated that you wanted to talk to me, but she didn’t say why, except that it had to do with Philip.”

“Abbie didn’t tell you anything?” I asked.

“Just that the police questioned her regarding Philip’s death.”

“She didn’t do it,” I blurted out defensively.

June held up a hand. “I don’t believe for a minute that Abbie did it.” She rubbed her temple. “The police have been here talking to me. They kept asking me about her relationship with Philip. Past and present. Like they think she might have done it.”

“She’s probably considered a suspect.” I knew that was as close as I could come to telling her the truth without compromising my promise to Corporal Fletcher.

June leaned forward with an intense gaze. “So why are you here?”

Trying to explain my penchant for sleuthing was hard enough with my family. Explaining it to a relative stranger made me feel weird and maybe a bit presumptuous. “Well, I’m afraid she’s going to be arrested, so I’m. . .well, I guess I’m investigating.”

June’s eyes widened. “Really? Trying to solve my son’s. . .murder?”

“Um. . .yes,” I said.

“That’s fascinating. Why would you do that? Don’t you think the police can handle the investigation?”

I shrugged. “If it was Eric leading the investigation, yes. But this detective seems to have it in for Abbie.” I paused and considered my next words. “I could be wrong about it. Maybe it’s just the detective’s personality, but I want to look into it myself. I can find out things I know the cops can’t. And I have a way to get what I discover back to the police.”