To Catch a Leaf (35 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“It has to be the cat's collar,” Grace said. “I'd bet any money on it—were I the betting type. Find the collar and you'll find the killer, I'm certain of it.”

“Gracie,” Lottie said, poking her head through the curtain, “the parlor is filling up.”

“I'll be right there, love.” Grace turned back to me. “I suppose you're heading off to the mansion now to show them the cat? You will take Marco with you, won't you?”

 

I tucked Tabitha into the blanket, put her in my lap, and headed to the Newports to test Grace's theory. I'd phoned Marco and told him my plan, and he'd agreed to meet me there as soon as he could. Outside the gates, I rang the buzzer and the housekeeper answered.

“Mrs. Dunbar, I think I found Charity. She's in the car with me. I need someone in the family to identify her.”

“Oh, my! I'll tell Ms. Virginia and Mrs. Juanita right away.”

Marco had been right. Virginia hadn't been arrested.

The gates opened majestically and I drove the 'Vette through, winding up toward the house and parking as close to the courtyard as possible. It was a good thing I had the blanket wrapped snuggly around the cat, because she was struggling to get away.

“Hold on, Tabitha, or Charity, whoever you are. If I'm right, you're about to become the richest cat in New Chapel.”

The back door was flung open by Virginia, still in the same outfit as earlier. “Let me see the creature.”

“I'm afraid she'll get loose,” I said. “Okay if I step inside?”

She glared at me, but motioned for me to enter. Behind her stood Mrs. Dunbar, wringing her hands anxiously. As though she'd been on her way to the garden, she was wearing a long-sleeved denim shirt, dirt-stained khakis, and rubber-soled brown slip-on shoes. Behind her stood Juanita, arms crossed over her bright orange tank top, wearing a pair of stretchy white yoga pants and a glare.

“Let's see the cat,” Virginia demanded, closing the door behind me.

“She's frightened,” I said. “Let's do this calmly and politely, okay?”

“I've been closeted with two detectives and two attorneys for the past three hours,” Virginia snapped, “so excuse my lack of civility.”

At least you're not in jail,
I wanted to say.

I gently eased the blanket back over the cat's face, talking to her in a soothing voice; then I brought the blanket out from under her thin body. Virginia immediately examined the cat's ears, causing poor Tabitha to tremble in my arms.

“It's Charity,” she told the others in a disgusted voice. “Look at the inside of this ear. See the brown comma-shaped mark? Mother used to say it was a good luck sign—and I suppose she was right, wasn't she?”

Neither woman came forward to look.

“Well, we know who'll get that thousand-dollar reward now,” Virginia said, looking at me as if I'd plotted it all along. I couldn't help but smile. I'd just made a thousand dollars!

“Wait a minute,” Virginia said, turning an accusing gaze on me. “Where is her diamond collar?”

“She wasn't wearing a collar when I found her,” I said.

“Or so you claim,” Juanita said, drumming her fingers on each arm.

“Poor kitty,” Mrs. Dunbar said, putting her hand out for the cat to sniff. “It's a wonder she survived on her own. Where did you find her?”

“She ran out from behind a shrub,” I said, wrapping the blanket around the cat. “I nearly ran her over.”

“What luck for us,” Virginia said sarcastically.

“Are we finished here?” Juanita asked. “I have students coming.”

“There's something I'd like you all to see first,” I said.

With a sharp sigh, Juanita moved in closer.

“When I found the cat, her hind leg was broken,” I said. “And see this streak of color? When the cast came off today, we found pink nail polish on her fur, as though someone with wet nails was holding on to her leg.” I glanced at Juanita. “It's your color, Juanita.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Juanita said contemptuously.

Virginia swung toward her sister-in-law and grabbed her hand. Holding it close to the cat's leg, she said, “It's a perfect match.”

Juanita yanked her hand away. “Why would my nail polish be on Charity's leg?”

“Because with the cat gone,” I said, “the will could have been contested.”

“But we didn't know Mother left everything to Charity,” Virginia said.

“Are you sure no one knew?” I asked.

Virginia glanced at Juanita only to have her look away. “Did
you
know?” she asked Juanita.

“I will not stay here and listen to such ridiculous accusations,” Juanita said.

Virginia got up close and stared her in the eye until Juanita dropped her gaze. “You knew and didn't tell us?”

“Okay, yes, I knew about the change in Constance's will,” Juanita said. “I overheard her talking to her attorney. But I did nothing about it. And that is all I have to say.” She turned and marched toward the doorway.

“I swear to God, Nita,” Virginia called, “if you pushed Mother down the stairs—”

“Ridiculous,” she called in a singsong voice as she left the kitchen.

Virginia pulled out a chair at the table and sank onto it. “This is all too much.”

“Oh, Ms. Virginia,” the housekeeper said, fluttering around her, “you're not about to faint, are you?”

“No,” she said wearily, waving her away. “Go about your business, Mrs. D.”

The housekeeper hesitated, then said reluctantly, “I'll be out back, then.”

She opened the door to leave, but before she could close it behind her, Charity jumped out of my arms and made a dash for freedom. As I ran after her, I met Marco coming through the courtyard.

“Marco, the cat got loose! I have to catch her. It's Charity. Don't let Juanita get away. I'll explain later.”

I didn't stick around to see what Marco did. I just ran, and when I finally got to the opening in the hedge that surrounded the garden, I saw Charity digging in the dirt beneath one of the shrubs at the far end of the first row.

Knowing how easily cats could be spooked, I slowed down to a leisurely stroll and began to talk to her. “There's Charity. Aren't you a good girl? You know I won't hurt you, don't you? Yes, you do. What a good girl you are.”

Charity was about five feet away from me and still digging. Then she stopped, glanced at me, and scampered away.

“Come back here,” I called, and was about to go after her when I spotted something pink in the hole she'd dug. I stooped down to look and pulled out a dirty pink cat collar with bare rectangular areas all around it. “Holy cow,” I muttered. I'd found the collar—minus the diamonds.

“What do you have there?” I heard, and pivoted to see Mrs. Dunbar coming toward me, her basket over her arm.

“Charity's collar.” I waited until she had reached me; then I showed her. “What do you want to bet the police find Juanita's fingerprints on it?”

“You'll be giving the collar to the detectives, then?”

She seemed almost alarmed at the thought. “Mrs. Dunbar, is there something about this collar that you need to tell me?”

“No, miss.” She backed away. “I should get on with my work now.”

I watched as she took her pruning shears out of the basket and started to clip the hedge. Something was definitely bugging Mrs. Dunbar, and that in turn bugged me. Did the thought of Juanita being accused of the theft bother her because someone else was guilty? And something else began to bug me. Why would Juanita hide the collar in the garden where Mrs. Dunbar would be likely to uncover it? Surely she was smarter than that.

Then I remembered something Grace had told us.

I looked at the housekeeper now, decked out in her blue shirt and khakis and rubber shoes. If she'd been working in the garden that day, why had she been wearing her dress and apron?

“Mrs. Dunbar,” I said, walking toward her, “do you always wear these clothes when you work in the garden?”

She stopped snipping. “Yes, miss. Why do you ask?”

I picked up one of the clippings and plucked a leaf from it. “When you came back to the house Monday afternoon and found Grace Bingham in the kitchen, had you been working in the garden?”

She got to her feet. “Yes, miss.”

“For how long?”

She squeezed the snippers so hard, her knuckles turned white. “An hour or so. I don't remember exactly.”

I was about to question her further, but something had changed in the housekeeper's expression. Something flinty had entered it. It made me back up a step.

She held out her other hand. “Give me the collar, miss.”

I took another step backward. “I can't do that, Mrs. Dunbar.”

“You best give me the collar now, miss, if you know what's good for you.”

Given that we were far away from the house, I had to make a quick decision—hand it over or run. But before I could make a move, she grabbed my wrist.

“You know, don't you? You know who buried this collar.”

“Mrs. Dunbar, I don't really care who buried it. I'm more interested in who stole the diamonds. Would you let go of my wrist, please?”

“Look at Miss Juanita if you want to know who stole them.”

“I'll do just that,” I said, trying to placate her. “After all, why would you take diamonds when Mrs. Connie left you all that silver, right?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “
All
that silver?”

Apparently not the thing to say to placate her.

“Do you know what the lawyer said that silver is worth? Maybe twenty thousand dollars.”

“That's a lot of money.”

“Try retiring on it.” Mrs. Dunbar released my wrist. “Mrs. Connie always promised she'd take care of me in my old age; then she turned on me, claiming she found that collar in my room. I told her she had it wrong, that someone must have put it there to make me look guilty, but she just kept shaking that collar in my face, saying she knew I'd been looting her crystal collection, so why would she believe I hadn't taken the diamonds?”

“Oh, Mrs. Dunbar, that's awful,” I said, wishing Marco would come looking for me.

“I begged her to forgive me, but instead she said she was going to fire me. After all those years of faithful service, she was going to fire me over a few little glass birds and a cat's collar. The nerve of that selfish old bat.”

At once, a big gold
g
flashed before my eyes, almost like someone had waved it in front of my face. I glanced at my surroundings, and the hair on my neck rose.

G
was for
garden
. That was what Grace's dream meant. I was staring at the killer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Mrs. Dunbar was so worked up, she was trembling, and so was I. “I told Mrs. Connie I didn't have any money put away to speak of, and you know what she told me? That I could sell those crystal figurines I'd stolen and use that as my retirement fund.”

I inched backward. “I can only imagine how that hurt, but once we explain all this to the police—”

Mrs. Dunbar gave me a hard shove that sent me staggering backward onto my rear. “You want me to sit in a prison for the rest of my life? You're just as cruel as everyone else. Who cares what happens to Mrs. Dunbar? She's only the hired help.”