I smiled. “That’s not what Alma Rittenhauer thinks.”
“Isn’t she a hoot? It drives her crazy that he’s not more chatty. But some people aren’t. I think he’s just an introvert.”
I took a chance. “Did you happen to notice if he was home on Friday night a week ago?”
“Why, Sophie Winston. I don’t spy on my neighbors like Alma does.” She pursed her lips. “But I did hear Charlene leave. I gather from the neighborhood scuttlebutt that she was through with Fred.” Georgia wrinkled her nose. “He’s a nice-enough fellow but a little boring. I can’t say I blame her. He hardly ever leaves his house!”
“You heard her leave? Was she yelling?”
“You’re just like Wolf. He asked the same thing. I wouldn’t have called it yelling so much as Fred calling her name from the front door. I looked out to see her run by. And he followed at a slower pace a few minutes later. But he’s not the one who beat her.”
Chapter 34
Dear Natasha,
I love cilantro. I’m so glad you use it in your recipes. Unfortunately, my husband and his family act as if I’m insane for using cilantro. They claim it’s a genetic thing. Oh, sure. Everyone has a genetic thing these days. Are they making this up?
Fed-Up Wife in Bat Cave, North Carolina
Dear Fed-Up Wife,
Normally, I would agree with you. But their claim is true. To some people, cilantro tastes like soap, and it appears to be a hereditary condition. Sorry! Offer the cilantro on the side.
Natasha
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Sophie, he’s besotted with her! I know jealousy is a powerful emotion, but I would bet my ears that he never harmed a hair on Charlene’s head.”
“Do you think he knew Mia?”
“Honey, I don’t know. But I don’t see how he can know many people since he almost never leaves his house.”
It was interesting getting two differing views on Fred from his neighbors. But it was even more interesting that Fred had left his house minutes after Charlene broke up with him. At least, that was what everyone suspected she had done.
I thanked Georgia and walked along the sidewalk, right by the entrance to Fred’s house. It was as quiet and boring as Fred himself, until I spotted a cop I knew sitting in a car. He gave me a funny look when I walked by. And he was dressed in plain clothes, not a uniform. I thought better of rapping on the window and asking what was up. I just kept walking.
Our path home took us by Bernie’s house. A few members of the press still hung out. I guessed Sundays weren’t hot news days. We crossed the street and entered our house through the kitchen door.
“Mars?” I called as I took off Daisy’s halter. I joined him in the den. “Want to hear something weird?”
“Always.”
I told him about the odd conglomeration of people at Francie’s house.
He shrugged it off. “Maybe they all like one another.”
“Benton had to identify Abby’s body last night or this morning. I would like to think if you had to identify my body that you would be too broken up about my death to be partying.”
“I might open a bottle of champagne. Would that be okay?”
“Actually, I think that would be lovely. Sort of a celebratory send-off.”
I washed my hands at the kitchen sink. A car outside honked its horn, and I saw a white cat run across the street, narrowly avoiding death.
I ran out through the front door. The poor cat seemed traumatized. I feared that if I went to the cat, it would run back into traffic. I moved toward it at a glacial pace. When I was about six feet away, I sat down.
It watched me with intelligent blue eyes. I would have sworn it was the same cat I met at Fred’s house. I had hoped she might inch toward me and come close enough for me to catch her, but she did the opposite. She ran directly at me.
I scooped her up and held her tightly as I walked back to the house. When the foyer door was safely closed, I released her. This wasn’t a stray who had been out in the world fending for herself. Her long fur was immaculate. It might even have been brushed. She was well fed, too. This was someone’s cat who managed to sneak away.
She sniffed around, eventually following me into the kitchen, where I offered her some of Mochie’s food. She ate very daintily.
Mochie was most curious. I thought he might hiss at her, but he was a true gentleman, interested yet polite to his new friend.
She wasn’t wearing a collar.
I picked up the phone and called Wolf. “Do you have a phone number for Fred? I think his cat is here.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Did you just walk by his house?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Walking Daisy.”
I could hear him making a tsking sound. “Sophie, stay away from there. We’re trying to get a search warrant, but there’s some kind of hang-up.”
“So I was right! He killed Mia and Abby!”
“I don’t know that.”
My mind was racing. “What if he’s the one who released Abby’s cat? Wolf, I hate to tell you this, but I think Fred has fled! He just did the same thing with his own cat. You can’t be on the run with a cat carrier.”
“He’s the one who flung the collar that landed in the holly tree?” Wolf speculated. “Could be.”
It wasn’t the best choice to simply let a cat run free, but he had bothered to consider the fate of the cats and had let them go, which indicated some consideration for their welfare.
“Is it just me or is it weird that a person who would bother to release a cat would batter his girlfriend and murder two women?”
“I’m not aware of any studies correlating affection for cats with a propensity not to commit murder,” said Wolf drily.
“Very funny. Good luck getting your warrant.”
We said goodbye and hung up. But two seconds later, it dawned on me that if Fred were really fleeing town, he might stop at the hospital to see Charlene one last time.
I called Wolf back, but his phone rolled over to voice mail. I left a message.
“Mars! I’m going to the hospital. I think Fred might be there.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain. I’ll see you later.”
Mars grabbed the car keys off the hook in the kitchen. “I’ll drive. You can explain on the way.”
Traffic seemed maddeningly slow. I explained to Mars that someone had let out Abby’s cat, and now I thought Fred had done the same with his own cat. It was a sign that he wasn’t coming back.
“I’m taking you to the hospital so you can single-handedly, without a gun or any training, capture a man who killed two women?”
“I called Wolf,” I protested. “I’ll text him, too, since this traffic is holding us up.”
“Let me get this straight. You think that Fred is going to the hospital to say goodbye to Charlene, even though he knows the cops are onto him?”
“In the first place, he might not know that. And yes, I fear that he’s going to say goodbye for the last time before he vanishes, or even worse, could be he’s planning to complete the job he didn’t finish. She’s the only one who can positively identify him as the murderer.”