The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (26 page)

This time, Ward Stanley stood. “No, I don’t. But when she’s awake, I’ll ask her. And now, I’d like you to leave before all your talking wakes her up.”

We were herded out the door and as we walked toward Kara’s SUV, I said, “He changed his mind. He doesn’t want us to speak to her.”

I wondered why.

As I finished my breakfast of yogurt, granola and blueberries the following morning, I was focused on Beatrice Stanley. The woman’s mysterious appearance at the pastorium had me tossing and turning all night. But would a meeting between her and Jeannie—with Beatrice’s intensity so obvious—upset Jeannie too much? Or would a face-to-face not be such a bad thing after all? Jeannie trusted me and I would be there for her. I had an idea about how to set it all up without Ward Stanley finding out, but I still worried whether it was the right thing to do.

Then there’s the Earl Whitehouse issue,
I thought as I sat on the living room floor for a little playtime with my cats. I waved a feather on a string and had all three of them interested. Syrah could jump circles around the other two cats, but if I ran the feathers along the floor, Chablis and Merlot had the edge. I tried to alternate, but soon Chablis was ready for a nap and Merlot lost interest. Only Syrah wanted to keep jumping and chasing the toy.

As I offered a few more feather passes and he leapt high in the air gracefully, I thought about Kara. She’d dropped me off last night, eager to find out where Earl Whitehouse lived and worked. She had a plan of her
own to get him to talk and invited me to be an observer. She feared the publicity threat wouldn’t work and that we’d end up with nothing. But she said she wasn’t beyond using a fake name and her good looks to get him talking.

As a journalist in Houston, she hadn’t had the luxury of deception, but since this encounter she was planning with Earl Whitehouse was more about helping the police than writing a story, I’d read more than a little excitement in her baby browns last night. But I worried about her and told her as much. What if he and Kay Ellen had had a spat and he killed her? He could be dangerous.

I didn’t think Beatrice was dangerous, however. I sensed she was heartbroken beneath her angry facade. I glanced at the clock on the DVR. Time to visit Discount Mart, where she worked. Maybe get to her when she was due for a break.

I called Candace on my way there, but her phone went to voice mail, so I left a message telling her where I was going and why. Not that anything could happen in a busy store, but I always felt better when I told someone I knew what I was up to at times like this. After all, there was a remote chance that Beatrice Stanley killed Kay Ellen. But why would she murder a teenager she probably didn’t even know? I had no idea. I only knew Beatrice Stanley was a dispirited, embittered woman who was aware of Jeannie Sloan’s reappearance. She believed Jeannie held important information—and I wanted to know what this was all about.

The Discount Mart wasn’t in Mercy, but halfway to Greenville. The thirty-minute drive didn’t involve any freeways like the ones I’d always had to navigate when I lived in Houston. Trees on either side of the nearly deserted two-lane road I traveled reminded me of dark skeletal hands reaching skyward from the grave. It was
rather spooky in the gloomy morning and I was glad Boots hadn’t shown up in my car to make it even more eerie.

I spied Beatrice right away wearing the navy blue apron and red name badge all the employees wore. I waited patiently in line behind a mother with two children begging for candy at Beatrice’s checkout stand. I watched her do her job, her face impassive. I guessed that when you did this kind of work, with loudspeaker announcements, screaming babies, ringing phones and customers unhappy about waiting in line, you learned to tune out a lot of stuff. I felt lucky that I could work in the peace and quiet of my home. Very lucky indeed.

Beatrice handed the young mother her receipt and immediately glanced at the conveyer for my items. Only when she saw nothing there did she look up and see me. Eyes half closed, mouth downturned, she said, “What do you want?”

“Are you due for a break soon?” I said.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” she said. “I have nothing to say to you. I want to talk to Jeannie Sloan, not some do-gooder.”

“I didn’t come here to upset you,” I said, realizing by her surprise at seeing me here that Ward probably hadn’t told his mother about our visit last night. “What if I could get you a meeting with Jeannie?”

She glanced beyond me, checking for customers waiting or perhaps for a supervisor who might not like her conversing and not working. “Why the change of heart? You treated me like some monster ready to harm her yesterday.”

“I’m protective, that’s all,” I said softly. “What about that break? Can I meet you at the McDonald’s here in the store so we can talk?”

Beatrice checked her watch. I noticed her nails were manicured and her hands looked well cared for. I was
glad she pampered herself in small ways. It meant she hadn’t given up. Not yet.

She said, “I’ve still got twenty minutes until my time off. I’ll meet you then.”

A customer started piling items on the conveyor, saying, “Your light’s on. Guess you’re open.”

I stepped away, wandered around the store for a while and then bought a yogurt smoothie at McDonald’s. I was getting in my probiotics for today, that was for sure. The booth I chose was around the corner from the ordering area and I had to wet a napkin and clean off the sticky table. Beatrice slid into the booth and faced me exactly twenty minutes from the time she’d said she would.

“Can I buy you coffee? A smoothie?” I asked.

“I don’t need you to buy me anything,” she said. “Just tell me what I have to do to talk to that woman.”

“Explain why you want to see her, that’s all,” I said, looking straight into her drained eyes.

She pondered this and I could see reluctance in her expression. She didn’t trust me—and yet she wanted to talk to Jeannie in the worst way.

She rested her forearms on the table and leaned toward me. “What do you know about us? About the Stanleys?”

“I know you once had a lot of money—and that you don’t anymore,” I said. “I know your pride has suffered and that you could use a friend.”

She pulled her lips in, eyes downcast. I don’t think she had anticipated the last thing I’d said. When she looked at me again, I could see she was fighting tears. But her tone was insolent when she said, “That’s not even half of what I could use. But maybe pride is part of that.”

I said, “All you have to do is tell me what you want from Jeannie and I’ll take you to meet her. I just have one other condition: that I remain in the room with the two of you.”

Beatrice lifted her chin. “I want to know what she found in that mill. Because I know it’s there.”

“What’s there?” I said. “What do you think she found?”
Does Beatrice know about the skeleton? Is that what she’s talking about?

“You have conditions?” she said defiantly. “Well, so do I. You take me to her and you’ll see. Because that woman
knows
.”

“How about this afternoon?” I said, keeping my tone even. She was beginning to frighten me a tad.

“I get off at three. I’ll be at that preacher’s house by three thirty.” She stood and started to walk away.

“But what if I can’t arrange it for today? Can I have your phone number or—”

She whirled and pointed a finger at me. “You wanted it your way. Make it happen.”

As she left, I felt a pulse throbbing in my throat.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, Jillian.

Tom called me as I drove back to Mercy and, perceptive as always, he said, “Something’s wrong. What happened?”

I told him about last night’s visit with Ward Stanley and this morning’s meeting with his mother. “She’s so…
angry
, Tom. They both are. I guess I should have done more research about the family. I thought I knew their story, but I’m beginning to believe there’s a lot more. But I need to know how Jeannie fits into all this. I just don’t get that part.”

“I’ve talked to Kara, so I know what the two of you did, but you should have asked me for help yesterday,” he said. “Since you aren’t seeing Beatrice until this afternoon, we’ve got enough time to tap a certain source. His name is Ed and I’ll meet you at his shop.”

“Sounds perfect. But aren’t you working on Earl Whitehouse’s background check?” I said.

“Why do you think Kara called me?” he said.

“Because she works for you?” I stated this as a question, knowing there was more to this.

“True,” he said. “She does, though not as much as I’d like. But now that your lovely stepdaughter has learned about Earl Whitehouse, she wants to do the background check on him. I told her to go for it. She’s sometimes better than I am at hunting up dirt.”

“Especially when she’s sniffing out a good story,” I said.

“Exactly,” he said. “See you soon.”

I arrived at Ed’s Swap Shop first and found him eating a turkey sandwich in the kitchen section of his workplace.

“Well, lookee here,” he said, standing to greet me. “One of my favorite people back to visit again in less than a week. I’m thinkin’ this has something to do with all this trouble in town. Plenty of trouble, too.”

I took a seat and he sat back down across from me. I said, “You have your finger on Mercy’s pulse. Where else could I get information?”

“I heard they found bones in that mill,” he said, picking up the rest of his sandwich off the paper plate in front of him. He took a large bite and ended up with mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth.

I tapped my mouth to show him and he wiped his face with a napkin.

“Who told you about the bones?” I asked.

He grinned. “I have connections with that lady, Laura, the one who runs the Pink House. She comes in here all the time lookin’ for old linens, lace doilies, stuff like that. Uses them to create the right…What was her word?
Atmosphere
. Anyways, I guess she has this smart kid from Greenville stayin’ with her and he’s goin’ a little wacky wantin’ to get back to work inside the mill. Did some talkin’ about what was found in the fireplace.”

“Oh boy. More and more information is leaking out all over town,” I said, wondering if Candace ever told Dustin to keep his mouth shut.

“That’s how things go in Mercy, Jillian. You know that.”

I heard the bell tinkle in the front of the store and soon Tom joined us. After he and Ed shook hands, Tom sat beside me and took my hand. His was cold and I put my other hand around his to warm it.

He said, “We need more on the Stanleys than you told us before, Ed. Do you know anything else?”

Ed rubbed his chin. “The Stanleys. Never thought I’d see the day they’d be ruined. Gotta know they ran through lots of money.”

“You sound surprised,” I said.

“Most folks I talk to think the medical bills did them in,” Ed said. “Old man lingered on for months in that hospital with the wife and kid hoverin’ like vultures. They got a rude surprise when he finally died. Judge Whitehouse—he does probate sometimes—anyways, he came in here one day lookin’ for tools. He’s a real collector. He was tellin’ me he couldn’t understand why there was nothin’ left except the house. Course that meant Beatrice and Ward had no money to run the place. Big old mansion like that owes a big tax bill every year and about as big electric costs every month.”

“Did you say Judge Whitehouse?” I said. “Earl Whitehouse’s father?”

“Yup. Why?” Ed said.

“Because his son’s name has come up in the last couple days,” I said. “I was told he was dating Kay Ellen Sloan.”

Ed’s bushy gray eyebrows rose in surprise. “First I heard of that. Him bein’ a judge’s son and her being a mill girl, well, I’m bettin’ that didn’t go over too well at young Earl’s house.”

“Did the judge say how much money they’d run through by the time Mr. Stanley died?” Tom asked.

“Nope, and I couldn’t venture a guess,” Ed said. “Money’s just paper to me. Recyclable just like everything else.”

I said, “What did the Stanleys do when they lost their house?”

“They got relatives everywhere in town, but they kept gettin’ kicked out,” Ed said. “Those two aren’t easy to live with, is my guess. Ward hadn’t even applied to college after he got his high school diploma. Ended up takin’ real estate courses at the community college. Even then he couldn’t make it, but that probably wasn’t all his fault with the economy the way it was. Bad time to be takin’ up real estate. He works at the insurance company now. Too much of a sourpuss to be much of a salesman, though.”

I nodded my agreement.

“They live over in them duplexes by the railroad tracks,” he went on. “The man is still livin’ with his mama, if you can believe it.” Ed sighed. “Those folks used to be all dressed up and struttin’ around Mercy like they owned the place. And come to think of it, they
did
own the place.”

“Could Ward’s father have run through a lot of money before he had that stroke?” Tom asked. “I mean, was he a gambler? Speculator? Anything like that?”

Ed considered this for several seconds. “I don’t think so. He ran that mill all his life. That was all he knew. Maybe he got bamboozled by the foreigners that come in and bought up the equipment.”

“You mean he never got paid for the looms and threaders and other machinery he sold them?” I said.

“I’m just guessin’, Jillian. I don’t recall any talk about what happened to all their money, except one day it was gone.”

“What about Beatrice Stanley?” I said. “Does she ever come in here?”

“She’s been in,” Ed said with a nod. “Anyone who’s fallin’ on hard times has been in here. Sold her lamps one time, an old coffee table another. But you know what the Good Book says. Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. To my way of thinkin’, haughty comes
after
the fall, too.”

I smiled. “Yes. Haughty. Perfect word for her. How would you go about getting her to open up and drop her ‘I’m better than you are’ act?”

Ed cocked his head and squinted. “Tough question. She likes pretty things—always eyeing my jewelry under the glass counter out front. Woman still thinks the world owes her everything. I’d say, if you was to meet up with her, you shower her with compliments. Find anything you can about her that you can pat her on the back for.”