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Kat couldn’t explain why she detoured down Mad Meadow Road on her way home from Ani Bedrossian’s house. Neither could she explain why she decelerated when she neared where the railroad tracks intersected with the street.
Okay, so she could explain. After she had learned Mitch Townsend was Ani’s ex, the murder had once again taken center stage in her mind. But acknowledging that this side trip was deliberate would require that she own up to her intent to do a little investigating. And that meant she would have to tell Andrew. And he wouldn’t be happy about her getting involved in police business—something she seemed to do quite regularly.
Kat drove across the railroad tracks, thoughts of Andrew replaced by a vague curiosity over which of the run-down mobile homes belonged to Eunice Berkowitz. She supposed it didn’t really matter. With their peeling paint, mossy roofs, and rusted vehicles parked on patchy brown grass, the properties around here all looked pretty much the same.
A fortyish woman with shoulder-length brown hair emerged from a ramshackle blue house on the left. Three cats of varying colors materialized from the nearby shrubbery and began circling around her feet. The woman set something on the ground in front of them. Kat couldn’t see what was in her hands, but from the way the cats dove she figured it had to be edible.
A firework went off nearby, the unexpected blast causing Kat to startle. She wasn’t the only one. The trio of cats scattered in all different directions. Kat stepped on the brake pedal when she realized the orange one was headed into the street.
The brunette yelled something and ran after the feline. But he didn’t stop. He darted past Kat’s car, disappearing behind the mobile home across the street. The woman stared after him, a look of despair stretched across her face.
Kat threw the car into park and turned off the ignition. “Can I help you find your cat?” she called through the open window as she fumbled with her seat belt.
“He’s not my cat,” the brunette replied.
“Oh.” Kat stepped out of her car. “I thought I saw you feeding him.”
“I was.” The woman glanced in the direction where the orange tabby had run before she turned to Kat with a sigh. “But he’s not mine.”
One of the other cats wandered over. This one was black with an adorable little white mustache and a set of four white socks on his feet. He leaned against the woman’s leg and gazed up at her until she reached down to stroke his head.
“This one’s not mine either,” she said. “Neither is the white one. They all used to belong to my neighbor before he moved away this past winter. He left them behind, and I felt sorry for them. So now I feed them a couple times a day.”
Kat felt an instant affinity with this kindhearted soul. “That’s really nice of you.”
The brunette fingered her hair, as though Kat’s compliment embarrassed her. “Anyone would do the same.”
Kat wasn’t so sure about that. Take the neighbor who had left his pets to fend for themselves, for instance.
“If you’re interested, I’m part of Furry Friends Foster Families,” Kat said. “We’re an animal rescue, and we can look at getting these cats into homes.”
“I don’t know.” The brunette gave the black cat one last pat before straightening her spine. “I’d miss them if they weren’t here.”
“How come you don’t take them in?”
“My landlady doesn’t allow pets.” She looked around as if to make sure they were still alone. “I did let them inside the enclosed patio out back yesterday though. Just overnight, mind you. The kids around here were setting off so many fireworks I worried they might get injured. But I let them out very early, before anyone would notice.”
The door to the house banged open, and a tall boy of around fourteen or fifteen ran outside. His strides were long and fluid, like that of a runner. Unruly dirty-blond locks licked the collar of his T-shirt with every step he took.
“Mom!” he shouted.
The woman turned around. “What is it, Presley?”
Kat sucked in a breath. Hadn’t Clarissa said Eunice Berkowitz’s son was named Presley? Could she have been standing here chatting with a murder suspect for the past few minutes without even realizing it?
The boy joined them near the street. The black cat started sniffing his sneakers, his little white mustache twitching with interest. Presley didn’t seem to notice. He glanced briefly at Kat before focusing his full attention on his mother.
“Lane wants to know if I can come over to shoot off some fireworks,” he said. “Can I go?”
“You can,” the brunette replied, “as long as you’re home in time for dinner.”
Presley was already jogging away. “I will be.”
They watched as he climbed onto an old bicycle propped inside the carport and started pedaling down the driveway. Kat’s heart was racing. Although she had intentionally detoured through Eunice’s neighborhood, she hadn’t actually expected to find herself talking to the woman.
Andrew would definitely not be pleased when he found out.
Presley reached the end of the driveway. He was about to veer into the street when Eunice made a motion for him to stop.
He braked. “What is it?”
Eunice walked over to him. “You need to put some air in those tires before you leave. That front one looks flat.”
Presley didn’t say anything, but he did toe the kickstand out before dashing back up the driveway.
The black cat padded over to the unattended bicycle and began giving it a thorough inspection. If there was anything besides the tires that needed attending to, he looked determined to find it.
Eunice jerked her thumb toward the carport. “That’s my son, Presley. He’s fourteen and a bit scatterbrained.”
“And you’re Eunice,” Kat said.
Eunice swayed backward a little, but before she could respond Presley reappeared with a cheap foot pump. He dropped it on the driveway and began hooking it up to the bicycle’s front wheel. The black cat appointed himself supervisor, crowding in front of Presley so he would have a front-row seat from which to watch his progress. Every time Presley moved, the black cat was right there, shoving his nose into the space the boy had vacated. If he were human he’d make an excellent micromanager.
“Have we met?” Eunice asked Kat.
“No,” Kat told her, “but your name came up in conversation yesterday.”
“My name did?” A puzzled crease bisected Eunice’s forehead.
“Clarissa LaPierre said you showed up at her house a month ago looking for her husband Jay, the attorney your ex hired to represent him during your divorce proceedings. Did you know he was murdered last night? He lives in my neighborhood, and I heard the gunshot that killed him.”
Eunice darted a look at Presley. Although he had his back to them and was diligently working on pumping air into his tires whenever the black cat gave him enough room to move, Eunice still scooted a few feet away. She gestured for Kat to join her.
“I did hear what happened to Jay,” she said, her voice low.
Kat dropped her own voice. “I take it you weren’t too fond of him.”
“You could say that.” Eunice folded her arms across her chest. “Because of him I lost custody of my son. And before you point out that he’s here now, I only have him for the holiday weekend. And that’s only because my ex decided three days off work was the perfect excuse to whisk his new girlfriend out of town.”
Gone was the soft tone Eunice had used when talking about her neighbor’s abandoned cats. Now, bitterness laced every word out of her mouth.
“It doesn’t sound like the divorce was an amicable one,” Kat commented.
Eunice barked out a laugh. “Amicable?” She swept one arm toward the house, her eyes blazing. “It’s hard to feel magnanimous when I’m living here while he’s out romancing younger women with room service and fancy hotel suites using the money he cheated me out of in our divorce.”
The orange tabby reappeared from behind the house across the street. He paused with one paw in the air as he took stock of the crowd clustered near the edge of Eunice’s driveway. He seemed about to come over to say hello when his eyes found the meal he hadn’t had a chance to finish. Reminded of his priorities, the tabby changed directions, making a beeline for the food.
The black cat hurried to join his buddy as soon as he saw where he was headed. Within no time their white counterpart had reemerged as well, and all three felines lined up in front of their respective dishes. For their sakes, Kat hoped the fireworks had momentarily ceased.
“So to answer your question,” Eunice said, “no, our divorce wasn’t amicable. But can you blame me for hanging on to some hard feelings?”
“The real question is whether you blame Jay LaPierre,” Kat said.
“I may have hated Jay LaPierre—hated that he and my ex spun all those lies about me in the courtroom—but I would never resort to taking a man’s life like that.”
Kat eyed the three cats happily chowing down, tempted to believe her. It was hard to imagine a person concerned about her neighbor’s abandoned pets gunning down another human being. On the other hand, Eunice clearly had motive.
“What did Jay say about you in court?” Kat asked.
“That I’m unfit to be a mother.”
“That’s a pretty harsh accusation.”
Some of the anger faded from Eunice’s eyes, replaced now by a profound melancholy. “It may be harsh, and the claims Jay made were greatly exaggerated, but he based everything he said on facts. Old facts, maybe, but facts nonetheless.” She drew in a breath as if to fortify herself for what she had to say next. “The truth is I was depressed once. When Presley was younger. Back then, sometimes it required all my energy merely to get out of bed. Jay—at my ex’s urging, I’m sure—used my less than ideal history of mental illness to convince the court I couldn’t be trusted with primary custody of Presley. And the court sided with him.”
Kat’s chest constricted in sympathy. How awful to have overcome your personal demons only to have them thrown back in your face years later.
Something clattered on the concrete driveway. Presley had apparently finished pumping his tires and was now back on his bike.
Eunice lifted her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Presley shoved the kickstand back using the heel of his sneaker. “Okay.”
Kat watched Presley pedal down the street. She hoped he hadn’t overheard their talk about him or Eunice’s mental health issues.
Eunice stepped away from Kat and scooped up the air pump. “I should be going. I want to put out some water for the cats before they disperse for the afternoon.”
“Do you know if they’re fixed?” Kat asked. “If not, 4F, the organization I was telling you about, could fund the surgeries. It would help to make sure no unwanted kittens show up and increase your burden.”
“They can’t have kittens. My neighbor wasn’t completely irresponsible. It just got so he could barely take care of himself, let alone three other lives.”
“That’s a generous way of putting it,” Kat replied.
Eunice hugged the air pump to her chest. “Generous, maybe. But sometimes people are faced with impossible choices. Sometimes circumstances might even demand that a person act in ways that are completely out of character. That doesn’t mean they’re inherently bad.” A shadow flitted across her face. “It also doesn’t mean their mistakes should be held against them forever and ever.”
Kat figured Eunice was alluding to her own actions while she was battling depression. She wanted to ask for details, but that seemed too intimate an inquiry for someone who was supposedly just driving by.
“Goodbye.” Eunice’s look was inscrutable as she issued the dismissal. Then, before Kat had a chance to utter a word in response, Eunice turned on her heel and hurried back into the house.
Kat returned to her car, but she didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, she watched those three cats as they finished up their meals, trying to work out whether they were lucky to have someone caring for them or unlucky to have been abandoned in the first place. She was still pondering over the answer when the cats wandered into the bushes, their tongues swiping at their lips.
It didn’t escape her notice that Eunice never had come out with that water.
