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SEPTEMBER STARED AT the screen, and touched her throat, trying to digest the information. Turpin’s cat sales record proved Judge Southgate’s involvement. But in what? Overpriced cats?
“What? Why? That can’t be right, $25,000 for a cat.” Shadow tried to get in her lap again. She finally paid attention to him, took several deep breaths, and consciously lowered her voice. “Macy’s priceless to me, but I’ve never heard of that kind of sale in the fancy. The paper files Tee gave to Steele mentioned no prices.”
Teddy scrolled down the page to find the entry about Macy. “No dollar amount here for Macy. Just says, ‘in exchange for services rendered,’ whatever that means. But see,” he used his mouse to point, “Others besides Southgate bought high-dollar cats. Looks like one every three or four years. See, there’s $25K sales to K.R. Jacobs at the same time as G.W. Southgate. Those are the most recent. Others go back decades, ranging from $5.000-$25,000 payments.”
Her mouth fell open and she grabbed Shadow’s fur. She scanned row after row of kitten sales with large dollar amounts listed intermittently. “It’s not every sale, though. Some fees fall in line with the norm for pet quality Maine Coon cats, or a few hundred more for show prospects. Those with the five-figure amounts—there’s something else going on.” Despite her excitement, September yawned as the lack of sleep combined with a post-adrenalin slump.
Teddy caught the yawn, and echoed it. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “We separate out the high-dollar outliers and see what else they have in common.” He typed rapidly, and soon had a screen with more than twenty names spanning thirty years. “The dates are important, too. If I had to guess, Turpin used cat sales to hide or justify payoffs.”
“That’s it! Teddy, you’re brilliant. The Clear Choice indictment accused Detweiller of falsifying lab results. I bet those dates coincide with high profile court cases.” She yawned again, and flexed her neck.
He grinned. “Give me a couple of hours to dig deeper. By the way, how long do cats live?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why? What does that matter?”
“Based on the dates, if actual real cats exchanged hands, it’d be good to know how many might still be around.” He didn’t look at her as he continued typing. The screen rearranged boxes and diagrams as he continued his research.
“Healthy cats live into their late teens, some into their twenties. Siamese live the longest, for some reason. Genetics and environment play into that, though. And there are lines of Maine Coons predisposed to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a heart condition. That reminds me, I need to give Macy his medication.” She yawned and stretched again. “Would you mind if I brought the cats in here, Teddy? It’s warmer than my car. I’ve got cat carriers in my car, and haven’t had a chance to get them settled.”
“Sure, why didn’t you say so earlier? Even with lots of fur, bet it’s chilly out there.”
September hurried to collect Macy and his new buddy. She retrieved and unfolded the extra carrier, loaded the cats, and lugged them to Teddy’s vehicle. Shadow followed, keeping watch in her wake. He stared down the road, ears pricked and neck arched. She didn’t blame him. She still kept one eye over her shoulder and startled at the slightest unexpected sound.
Once inside, Macy willingly opened his mouth for his medication, and then pawed her arm impatiently for his treat. “Sorry, I left the treats in my car. Teddy, do you have anything?”
He hooked a thumb at the small refrigerator. “Does he like boiled eggs? I always keep a couple for a quick protein snack.”
“Macy eats nearly anything.” She removed the bowl with two shelled eggs, and set it on the counter. Shadow immediately sat, with a dramatic look of expectation. “Okay. Everyone gets a taste.” September cut one egg in small pieces. Macy gobbled up his portion, and licked his whiskers with appreciation. Shadow gulped his, and wagged for more. Sherlock sniffed, and turned away.
Teddy watched with interest. “Picky eater?” He nodded at the computer. “It’s running a program.”
“Likely the food’s too cold. When it warms up a bit, he may eat it. Cats like their food body temperature. Like a mouse.” She grinned when he made a face. “So, answers in an hour?”
“Probably more questions. But yes, the program should give us a road map.” He tipped his head to one side, eyeing her. “I don’t sleep much these days, but you look ready to fall over. Why not take a nap while we wait?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I want to visit Mount Pleasant Cemetery.” She rubbed Shadow’s ears when he pushed against her. “Once we take the information to the police, questioning takes hours. I need to pay my respects at Chris’s grave, it’s one reason I came.” She blinked hard and wiped her eyes. “Now he’s with his parents. He had no other family, just me.”
Teddy rose and gave her a hard hug. “Of course. Go. Make your peace. Ya know, he’d be proud of how far you’ve come.”
September shrugged into her parka and adjusted the cap to hold back her hair. “When we get back, I’ll take the cats over to Tee’s hotel room. Shadow, let’s go, baby-dog.” She opened the door and stepped out, waiting for him to prance down the steps. “Teddy, call me when you learn anything. We’re so close!”
Once back in her SUV, she stuffed the baggies of treats into her pocket, and then pulled up the directions to the cemetery. Located only a few minutes from South Bend Airport, she fought the temptation to instead buy a plane ticket home. But she couldn’t retreat, not now, with answers finally within her grasp. She owed it to herself, to Angela, and to the memory of Detective Christopher Day.
“You would’ve loved Chris,” she told Shadow. “He’s why I train dogs.” All these years she’d blamed herself, and Victor, for his death. Once she found the truth, perhaps she’d also find peace—and open the doors on a future.
MR. BLEAK WAITED UNTIL she drove away with her devil dog. Only then did he approach the motor home. He knew of the old man by reputation, a brilliant hacker back in the day, and guessed she’d left the thumb drive with him. He fingered his scalded face, and flexed painful cat-bitten hands. They’d never find September, once he finished with her.
