Murder and a Song (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) (9 page)
Read Murder and a Song (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Nancy C. Davis
Tags: #Amateur Sleuth, #cozy mystery, #woman sleuth, #cat, #cats, #mysteries, #detective
She
turned down the FM and picked up the police radio to report that they might
have sight of the suspects. As she was
doing so, the two men began to walk towards the plot.
“I
think they’ve spotted us,” said Officer Peterson.
“Just
don’t move and see if they’ll risk it.
They don’t know for sure that there’s anyone in here or that we’re
waiting for them.”
“We
should have kept them in custody when we had them.”
“If
we did that for every suspect we didn’t like the look of, we’d need a much
bigger station, wouldn’t we?”
“Okay,
they’re carrying on … Get ready.”
The
officers never took their eyes off the two men striding towards the tent. They watched them hesitate, then peer at the
police van long enough to see the officers inside – then they ran.
“Damn
it!” shouted Constable Palmer, grabbing for the door. “Get after them!”
The
officers jumped out of the van as the suspects made a run for it. They chased them on foot between the
clustered tents and crowds, dodging and pushing between groups of people. Constable Palmer screamed for the suspects to
stop, but of course they didn’t; the two men had already plotted an escape
route through the campsite and were soon so far ahead that the Constable could
barely see them anymore.
“Keep
on them!” she shouted. “Don’t let them get away!”
The
officers dodged and leapt, keeping up with the Constable, but the suspects knew
their route too well and were already at the edge of the treeline.
“They’re
going into the woods!” called Constable Palmer. “Spread out!”
But
as soon as the police team ran into the trees, all they saw were the tall
columns of pine and birch intersecting the filtered moonlight. The Constable knew that the suspects couldn’t
have gotten far, and had probably stopped to hide. It would only be a matter time before they
were found.
She
called out to her team: “Search the trees!
They’re around here somewhere. Be
careful – but find them!”
Elliott Knight arrived to a sleeping
house.
Only Pattie was awake; she
had him take his usual seat in her lounge, where he was surrounded by half a
dozen snoring kitties.
She liked
the way that he moved quietly to avoid waking them.
She made a pot of his favourite Darjeeling and brought it
out in the trolley with a small jug of milk and a selection of biscuits.
The Doctor was fond of Scottish
shortbreads, so she always made sure she had some in.
“Here
we are,” she said. “This should tide us over until we’re finished.”
“Thank
you, Patricia.
You’re always the
perfect host.”
“I
try, Elliott.”
“Now,
where is the reason I’m here?
I
presume there’s a furry gentleman in need of some medical attention?” he said,
rubbing his hands together.
Pattie
smiled and went to fetch O’Malley, who was sleeping in the bathroom on the
scrunched-up blanket that Pattie had put out for him.
He was limp and docile when she picked him up, surprising
her.
She supported his bottom and
back legs and brought him in for Elliott.
O’Malley blinked sleepily on Elliott’s lap.
“Well,
he seems placid enough.”
“I
think he’s entirely
too
placid for a
farm cat.
I’m not certain that he
isn’t unwell, but I couldn’t find any injuries.”
“Let’s
have a look here…” said Elliott.
He
touched each of O’Malley’s paws, then worked each joint in his legs, squeezed
and bent his tail at different intervals, then peered into his hairy ears and
examined his mouth.
“Apart
from his dopey eyes, he doesn’t seem to have any injuries and doesn’t seem
sick.
Let me have a feel here…”
The
Doc-cum-vet gave O’Malley a few strokes to remind him that he was safe, then
reached down with both hands to palpate his stomach.
O’Malley winced and his tail flicked around Elliott’s knee.
“Hmmm
… I wonder if…”
Elliott
continued to palpate the cat’s fluffy stomach, then O’Malley gave a wheezy
cough and jumped down to the floor.
Elliott
accepted a small cloth from Pattie to clean his hands on. “I think that’s the
problem.
He probably ate something
that’s disagreeing with him.
Have
you got any plants he can chew on?”
“Only
basil,” said Pattie. “Short of letting him outside, but I really don’t want
that…”
“Well,
if it’s really giving him trouble he’ll bring it up sooner or later.
If you said that those men were keeping
him shut in a van, maybe they fed him something stupid that he can’t digest
easily.
Hamburger or pizza, or
something they picked up at the campsite.
You know what some morons can be like when they aren’t used to pets.”
They
both watched the cat, who sat on the carpet with his eyes almost closed, his
tail twitching gently in agitation.
Pattie felt sorry for O’Malley, and all that he’d been through.
“You
know, Patricia,” said Elliott, munching on a biscuit between sips of his hot
tea, “you’d be the perfect person to open up her own veterinary practice here
in Little Hamilton.
It’s not like
we haven’t needed one for years, and I can’t go on moonlighting like this – not
least because I haven’t the training.”
Pattie
laughed. “Well, neither have I!”
“No,
but you’ve much more experience than I have, and no-one could say that you
didn’t really care for the animals.
There’d be none of these complaints about a vet that’s ripping them off
through their insurance.
I think
you’d be perfect!”
Pattie
and Elliott grinned at one another until it became awkward.
Pattie had begun to think that the
young man she’d been dancing with in her dream had been Elliott.
It seemed pretty obvious, but she
didn’t want it to be true.
She
felt that she was too old for romance.
She was too old for a lot of things.
But how long was she supposed to go on merely satisfied,
when her life could potentially be so much more…?
“I’m
just going to make a phone call,” Pattie murmured.
Elliott
looked up. “Patricia?
Did I say
something wrong?”
Pattie was already in the hallway,
dialling D.C. Downey’s extension at the station.
He picked up after a few rings and said his name in a weary
voice.
“Detective Constable?” said Pattie.
“It’s Patricia Lansbury.
I was
just calling to see how things are going.”
“Hello,
Mrs Lansbury.
Well, Constable
Palmer and a small team were watching the suspects’ tent in case they showed up,
which they did.
The team chased
them on foot but lost them.
Constable Palmer thinks they have some hideout near the woods.
Short of raiding all the tents near the
treeline I’m not sure what else we can do.”
“You
could have the festival shut down,” Pattie told him. “They’ve already murdered
two people.”
“We
don’t know that, Mrs Lansbury.
We
only have a lot of speculation.
I’m already pushing the boat out just having those few officers pulled
off the festival duty.
The Chief’s
not going to agree to any more use of tight resources, and he’s definitely not
going to let me shut down the festival and send home sixty thousand people.
The best we can do is post an officer by
their tent and let him call for back up when he sees them come back.”
“I
don’t think that’s going to cut it,” Pattie replied gently. “But I understand
that you don’t have a choice.
Could you let me know if anything happens?”
“Of
course,” said D.C. Downey, and hung up.
Pattie
put the phone down quickly, having heard a dry coughing from the lounge.
O’Malley was hacking up a hairball
about the size of a freighter, from the sounds of it.
She was about to walk through when her mobile rang in the
kitchen.
“Patricia?”
called Elliott from the other room. “You’re going to want to see this…”
“Just
a moment please, dear,” called Pattie, and went to answer her mobile.
The call was from an unknown
number.
She answered it anyway.
“Hello?
Patricia Lansbury
speaking.”
“Pattie?”
said a female voice. “It’s Laura Conrad, from YTV News.”
“I
know who you are, Miss Conrad.
You
don’t have to introduce yourself every time.
And it’s Patricia, if you don’t mind.
How did you get my number?”
“I’m
an investigative reporter.
C’mon.”
“May
I asked why on Earth you are whispering?” asked Pattie, attempting to restrain
her temper.
Down
the phone, Laura Conrad said in a hushed voice, “Pattie, please listen to
me.
Right this moment I’m up a
tree in the woods next to the festival site.”
“Why
are you—?”
“Because
I just followed your suspects Farrell and Draper here, that’s why.
They’re hiding in a coal store about a
quarter of a mile in.
It’s about
halfway between where their tent is and the stone bridge where Harry Widmore’s
body was found.”
“Why
aren’t you calling the police with this?” asked Pattie.
“I
tried, but all their lines are busy.
It must be the festival.
Can you get to the station and have someone come out right away?
I don’t know how long these guys are
gonna stay here, and I can’t follow them around forever.”
“Alright,”
said Pattie. “Hold tight.
I’ll
call them now.”
“Thank
you,” whispered the reporter. “Hurry!”
Pattie
made a call to the station, but the line was engaged.
She knew that she couldn’t wait long, so she grabbed her
coat from the hook and put it on. “Elliott?
I’m afraid I’ll have to nip out for a few minutes; it’s
urgent.”
“Patricia,
come here.”
Pattie
responded to his tone and walked into the lounge.
She saw at once that O’Malley had been sick, and produced an
enormous sticky hairball on her carpet. “Oh dear…”
“Look
a little closer,” said Elliott, who was peering at the thing from a distance of
three inches himself, despite the smell. “I don’t think this is just a
hairball…!”
Constable Juliette Palmer had all but
given up trying to find her two suspects in the woodland.
They had searched the area for twenty
minutes, but it was as though they had vanished into thin air.
Her officers had looked up trees,
kicked through fern and bracken, and scoured the edge of the riverbank for
hidey-holes.
But there was no
hideaway to be found, and so Constable Palmer had left two of her officers
staking out the tent and let the rest call it a night.
She was in the van driving home officer
Hill.
“It’ll
be the Chief that’s going to get it in the neck if another body shows up,” she
murmured, checking her mirror before turning a corner. “I swear.”
The
station radio crackled: “Car six, car six, please respond.
Over.”
The
Constable picked up the receiver. “I’m here.
Over.”
“Juliette,
it’s Tom.
Are you home yet?”
“I
can’t be if I’m in the van talking to you on this radio, can I?”
“Good
point.
Turn around.
We have a lead on Farrell and
Draper.
They’re still in the woods
and we have an eyewitness still on the scene.”
“You’re
kidding.
Who?”
“She’s
blonde, carries a notepad and shares the tendencies of a Rottweiler,” D.C.
Downey replied.
“That
YTV woman?” Constable Palmer snapped. “I already threatened her with cell-time
if she didn’t back off until we were ready!”
“Well,
she just called Patricia Lansbury and said she’s hanging off a branch right now
near some old coal bunker in the woods.
Get there ASAP.
I’m driving
out now and will meet you there, alright?”
