Monday, December 28: six days after the murder
7:30 p.m.
We convinced Katrina to stay over. It didn’t take much. She was exhausted and I could tell she really needed some good food, a warm bed, and comfy clothes. Grandpa and Ethan took care of the food (Grandpa’s famous chicken noodle soup and Ethan’s veggie burgers and fries), and Val took care of the guest room, complete with candles, a brand-new pair of jammies she’d picked up for her, flannel sheets, and the fuzziest blanket we had. Which left me in charge of going to get Katrina’s cats and some clothes for her.
She protested briefly, saying that she should come with me, but we all talked her out of it. When I left, she was wrapped in the blanket on the couch with Grandpa’s soup, a bourbon, and some comedy that Ethan insisted would fix everything.
I wished it was that simple.
I got into Grandpa’s truck and started the engine. While it was warming up, I called Becky and put her on speaker. “Katrina’s out,” I said when she answered.
“That’s good,” she said. “How is she?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Not great, but she was glad to have real food and a blanket that didn’t smell like felons.”
“I’m sure. So what do you think?”
“She didn’t do it, Beck.”
“I know she didn’t do it,” Becky said impatiently. “Jeez, she’s my friend too. I’m not that ruthless. I just mean, what do you think is going to happen?”
“I don’t know. Lilah Gilmore said Virgil wasn’t getting along with a bunch of his neighbors. And that she told the cops that. But they still arrested Katrina.”
“Not surprising. The Turtle Point cops aren’t the best to work with.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my antennae rising.
She paused for a moment. “Nothing bad,” she said finally. “I don’t mean they’re corrupt or anything. It’s just that nothing ever happens out there unless it’s something stupid like some stolen bikes—”
“Or stolen decos,” I added.
“Exactly. So they kind of Keystone Kop–it when something big happens. I don’t want to say they don’t know what they’re doing, but…” She let the sentence hang unfinished. “I couldn’t even get an official statement for two days on the arrest, and that’s an easy one. I also think they’re not used to talking to reporters about a case like this. Anyway, keep me posted.”
I promised her I would as I turned into Katrina’s driveway. I pulled my wad of keys out of my pocket, found hers, and headed up to the door. I scooped up the mail from that day that had been pushed under the door and brought it into the kitchen, adding it to the pile I’d already created on the counter, then I looked around for Fred and Ethel.
They were snuggled up together on their cat tree, watching me impassively. They were bonded siblings whom Katrina had rescued when they were kittens. They were almost twelve now.
I got them into their crate without a problem, then headed into the bedroom to get clothes. I picked out some sweats, leggings, and flannel shirts and packed them into her backpack, along with an extra set of pajamas and some socks, then paused to think what else she might want. She’d been so tired she hadn’t even given me any instructions before I left, which also wasn’t like her. I saw her phone charger on her nightstand and stuck that in the bag along with the book she seemed to have been reading. I glanced at the title. The newest Liane Moriarty book. That surprised me a little. Katrina was more of a thriller gal.
But then again, I guess I didn’t know everything about my friend.
I picked up the backpack and looked around one more time. “We ready?” I asked the cats.
They blinked at me.
“Okay, then.” I stooped to pick up their carrier and as I did, I noticed one more envelope that must have been stuck under the door. It was halfway under the mat, which was why I hadn’t noticed it the first time. I pulled it out.
It was blank. Which meant it hadn’t come in the mail. And the envelope hadn’t been closed all the way. It was basically open, so I peeked inside.
Cash. Wrapped in a piece of paper. I pulled it out and unfolded the paper. It didn’t say anything. I counted the money. Three hundred dollars. I placed it back into the envelope and put it with the rest of the mail, tucking it underneath.
Who had left her that money? The anonymous cat donor? She’d mentioned that someone had been giving her money. Leopard Man, I guessed.
Now I was curious, though. I flipped through the mail to see if there was anything else there that would shed some light, but nothing caught my attention. I poked around a little bit, feeling guilty, not even knowing what I was looking for. Well, that wasn’t true. I was looking for something that would tell me what Katrina and Virgil fought about, and why she was at his place the night he died.
Which was kind of a long shot.
Unless … I hesitated. I wondered if she kept a journal. As soon as the thought entered my mind I shoved it out. That would be the ultimate betrayal. Worse than Craig poking around in her past. How could I even think of doing that?
“Get it together, Maddie,” I ordered myself. “You are not going through your friend’s journal. If she even has one. Get out of here and go be supportive.”
I went back to the kitchen and picked up the backpack and the cat carrier. I was just about to leave when my phone buzzed. Val. I stopped to answer it.
“Hey. You still at Katrina’s?”
“Just walking out the door. What’s up?”
“She forgot to tell you Fred is on medicine. It’s in the cabinet right next to the stove.”
“Roger that.” I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and went back to the kitchen. I flipped open the cabinet, found the pills easily enough—it appeared to be for some kind of stomach ailment—and shut the cabinet. As I did, my eyes fell on the calendar Katrina had tacked to the cabinet door.
I glanced at the block for December 23, the day Virgil died. Nothing on there but pick up mom’s meds.
But now I was curious. And it was better than going through her journal. I pulled the calendar off the door and flipped back, checking dates over the past three weeks. Nothing made any reference to Sea Spray Lane, Virgil Proust, or anything else suspicious. I figured as much, but had to check.
I was just about to hang it back up when I noticed an address scrawled at the bottom of the November page. It had no appointment or even a day associated with it. Just 525 Bluff Point Drive.
Curious. It didn’t sound familiar to me. Maybe she’d gotten an animal call while she’d been home and scrawled the address on the nearest available piece of paper.
I hesitated, then copied it into the Notes on my phone. At the very least, I could Google it later.
I felt better knowing Katrina was safe at home with us. She was happy to have her cats, and she went straight to bed with them when I returned to the house. All in all, I was feeling pretty good before I went to bed myself. The only downer was getting a text from Lucas, telling me he missed me more than anything and could we please speak.
I didn’t answer.
I also felt like it was time to talk to Katrina. Now that she was home and she knew we were trying to help her, she would see that she needed to tell Grandpa and me everything, so we could figure out the best approach with her lawyer. Unfortunately that included needing to know about this terrible event from her past too. As much as I hated to admit it, Craig was right. Whether or not she had been responsible for what happened, if her name was attached to it in any way, it wouldn’t look good and we’d need to take a proactive approach.
I had no idea if she would talk to me about it. Sometimes I think Katrina still saw me as the younger kid she used to babysit, even though we were both adults now. A part of her would always want to protect me, and I loved that about her. But she would talk to Grandpa. Of that, I was positive.
Before I went upstairs, I headed down to Grandpa’s office. He’d disappeared down there earlier. I assumed he was doing some sort of work relating to Katrina. When I poked my head in, he was engrossed in something on his computer, but when he saw me he clicked away from it and sat back in his chair. “Hi, doll. What’s up?”
“What are you doing? Did you find out anything yet?” I knew I was being a pain asking him every five seconds. Especially when I knew how Grandpa worked. When he first started investigating something, he need space to gather data and organize his thoughts. In my (admittedly very limited experience) working with him on cases, he didn’t like to talk about it a lot at that point, until he’d coalesced the thoughts in his brain.
“Working on it,” he said simply, which confirmed my assessment. “You need something, Maddie?”
“I think we should talk to Katrina,” I said. “About everything. Get her to tell us what she was doing out there. And … we should ask her about the college thing. Even though she’s going to be angry about that. We probably shouldn’t tell her Craig found out.”
“He was trying to help her.”
“Do you believe it?”
“Do I believe that Katrina had anything to do with what happened to that young woman?” Grandpa sighed. “I never spoke to her about it, Maddie. I know what I read in the report, which didn’t have overwhelming evidence against her. I will say if she was caught up with the wrong people and found herself in a situation, she may have been an active participant, however unwilling.”
I hated to hear that, although I completely understood it. “We have to ask her, Grandpa.”
“Her lawyer will figure it out. That’s why we have Jack. He’s a pro at this stuff.”
I realized that Grandpa might be a little bit afraid of the answer too. Because otherwise he would’ve already had the conversation with her. “Right. But Jack doesn’t care if she really did it or not,” I said slowly. “Jack will only care about what he can redirect the jury to believe. Isn’t that what you always told me?”
Grandpa nodded slowly. “That’s right.”
“So he’s not going to really ask her if she did this. Just like he doesn’t want to know if she killed Virgil Proust. Which I know she didn’t, but still. He just wants to know enough that he can convince the jury there’s reasonable doubt.”
Grandpa remained silent, but his slight nod was enough.
“Well, great. But I still need to know.” I pushed my chair back. “And you’re her private investigator, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you want to know too?”