Kat was elated when she and Tiffany managed to capture the orange tabby. He fought them with all his might, but once they secured him in one of Jessie’s empty produce boxes he had no choice but to settle down.
“Wow,” Tiffany said, examining the gash the cat had left on her palm. “This animal rescue stuff is dangerous business.”
“It can be,” Kat conceded. “But the rewards are well worth it. And if you’d let me reschedule that interview, I’d be happy to give you the details on what exactly 4F does.”
“Why don’t we do it now?” Tiffany suggested.
“I should take care of this cat first. That means a vet visit and, assuming he’s well enough to be released, finding him a foster family.”
“How long will that take?”
“It could be a while.” Kat’s eyes veered toward the kitchen, where Andrew and Jessie looked to be deep in conversation. “I still have to wait for my ride.”
“I can give you a ride,” Tiffany said.
“That would be a good way for you to see firsthand what 4F does.”
Tiffany clapped her hands. “It’s settled then. C’mon.”
Unfortunately, Cherry Hills Veterinary was the only veterinary practice open this late on a Saturday, and when Kat called from Tiffany’s car the receptionist told her they didn’t have any openings for another two hours.
“Whatever,” Tiffany said after Kat relayed the news. “We can do that interview while we wait.”
“All right,” Kat agreed. “Here’s Culver Street. You’ll want to take a left at the light.”
But Tiffany turned right instead. “Let’s hang at the Courant offices until your appointment time. It’s not far.”
“What about the tabby?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t want to wait in a stinky vet’s office with all those dogs around either. And this way we can let him out of that box.”
“In that case, maybe we should stop to pick up a litter pan.”
“Why bother? The Courant building is such a dump, nobody would notice if he went on the carpet.”
Kat didn’t have time to argue. Tiffany was already pulling up to a small brick building.
“Here we are!” she chirped, leaping out of the car.
Kat lifted the tabby’s box from the back seat while Tiffany unlocked the door. The tabby squirmed, but otherwise he didn’t protest much.
Kat entered the building, taking in the empty bank of four cubicles positioned behind a bare reception desk. “Where is everybody?”
“It’s Saturday, and the Courant doesn’t care about cutting-edge news, remember?” Tiffany snorted. “If anybody else is working, they’re probably out looking at someone’s backyard garden to get the scoop on what veggies grow well in the snow.”
Kat surveyed the area. Tiffany was right about the place being a dump. The walls and carpet had likely been different colors once, but the years had caused them both to fade into the same dingy gray. The few windows dotting the walls hadn’t been cleaned in so long that almost no sunlight made it through the glass. Kat was tempted to see if they would open, not for the light but to banish the faint, musty odor that hung in the air and forced her to breathe through her mouth.
Tiffany flipped the light switch before walking over to one of the empty cubicles. “You can let the cat out. He’ll be easy to catch in here.”
Kat set the box on the floor and removed the lid. The orange tabby didn’t waste any time poking his head out. After assessing his surroundings, he scrambled over the side of the box and scurried under the reception desk.
“Now we can get down to business.” Tiffany threw her messenger bag on the desk and flopped into her chair. “You heard anything new about Aaron?”
Kat pulled over a chair from one of the empty desks and eased into it. “I thought we were going to talk about 4F.”
Tiffany’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.” She sounded as if she’d rather have her tonsils removed.
“Why don’t I start by telling you what 4F does? As a nonprofit animal rescue, our main goal—”
“Wait.” Tiffany dropped her elbows onto the desk. “Before we get to that, tell me one thing. What were you doing at Jessie’s?”
“What do you mean?”
“Be straight with me. You weren’t really there for the cat, were you?” Tiffany scoffed, as if the idea were ridiculous. “You were looking for clues about Aaron, right?”
Kat crossed her legs. “I was there on behalf of 4F.”
Tiffany didn’t look convinced, but Kat wasn’t about to tell an aspiring crime reporter anything that might implicate Jessie. Although the restaurateur had a lot of loyal regulars, who knew whether they would keep coming around if the Courant hinted that she had murdered one of her customers.
Kat cleared her throat. “So, anyway, 4F—”
“You know what we should do?” Tiffany interrupted.
“What’s that?”
Tiffany vaulted out of her chair. “We should take another look at Aaron’s briefcase.”
“I thought his family had it.”
“Bill hasn’t given it to them yet. It’s still in his office.”
Kat thought about the EpiPen that had mysteriously appeared in Jessie’s kitchen that morning. “What are you expecting to find?”
“I won’t know until I look.” Tiffany’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “And it won’t hurt to take a tiny peek while it’s still here, will it?”
Kat couldn’t deny her own curiosity. And if searching through Aaron’s briefcase could help them figure out what had happened, why not?
Tiffany dashed out of her cubicle, waving for Kat to join her. “C’mon.”
Kat followed Tiffany to a door located only three steps from the reception desk. The door was closed and had Bill’s name on the nameplate, but apparently that was just a formality. Tiffany didn’t even knock before flinging it open.
“It shouldn’t be that hard to find,” Tiffany said, turning on the lights. “Bill is the most organized person I know.”
The state of Bill’s office supported Tiffany’s assessment. Nothing was sitting atop the file cabinets or piled onto the visitor chair. And the desk was completely bare except for a computer, an empty inbox, a ceramic pencil holder, and a framed photograph of Bill and what had to be his family.
Tiffany headed straight for the file cabinets. She opened and closed a few drawers before her face lit up. “Ah ha!” she said, holding up the briefcase. She carried it over to the desk and flipped the lid open. “Come and help me look.”
Kat hadn’t realized until then that she had been hovering in Bill’s doorway. Somehow it felt wrong to invade the guy’s office without his permission, but with Tiffany peering at her so expectantly, she didn’t see how she had any choice.
As soon as Kat reached her side, Tiffany began sifting through the briefcase. “There’s some stuff about Jessie’s in here.”
“Really?” Kat leaned over her shoulder. “What kind of stuff?”
“Looks like he printed their menu off their website. Nothing that will help us.” Tiffany tossed the papers aside. “And this . . .” She scrutinized the next sheet a little more closely before her face fell. “Eh, it’s just a copy of the book review Aaron turned in to Bill yesterday.”
“What else is in there besides papers?”
Tiffany dug through the inner pocket, verbalizing the contents as she spread the items across Bill’s desk. “Pens, business cards, paper clips.”
Kat grabbed an orange prescription bottle before it rolled off the desk. “What’s this?”
“Who knows? Old people, they pop pills like candy.”
Kat opted to let that statement go. She had a sneaking suspicion that in Tiffany’s eyes, even she was considered old.
Kat brought the bottle up to her face. She didn’t recognize the name of the medication, and the label didn’t tell her anything except that this prescription had been refilled last week and the pills should be taken once daily with food. She popped the cap and peered inside.
“It’s empty.” Kat thought back to the scene at Jessie’s Diner the day before, when Tiffany had unearthed an identical prescription bottle while searching for Aaron’s EpiPen. “Were there pills in here when you went through Aaron’s briefcase yesterday?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Which would make sense, if he had recently filled the prescription.”
Tiffany’s forehead furrowed. “But I don’t think there were many. It felt like there were only a couple pills.”
“A couple pills.” Kat turned that information over in her head. What were the odds that Aaron’s recurring prescription only allowed him to receive a couple pills at a time?
Her breath caught, the air draining from her lungs as another possibility crept into her mind. All this time she had been working under the assumption that Aaron’s milkshake had contained the peanut oil, but what if it was something else he’d consumed at Jessie’s? What if these pills were the culprit?
In that case, Aaron’s killer might not have been present when he’d died after all.
“Tiffany,” Kat said, her mind racing, “when does Aaron take his pills?”
“I don’t know.”
Kat studied the label again. Since Aaron was supposed to take this medication with food, it was conceivable he had ingested his daily dosage while at Jessie’s Diner.
Tiffany propped one hip against Bill’s desk. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind, murder expert. Spill.”
Kat wasn’t too fond of the ‘murder expert’ designation, but now wasn’t the time to protest. “I think somebody did murder Aaron. And I think they tampered with these pills to do it.”
Tiffany drummed her fingers on the desk. “Wow. I never thought of that. But it makes total sense.”
“What are you two doing in here?”
Kat jerked her head up. Bill stood in the doorway, a pinched look on his face.
Tiffany didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught in his office. “Going through Aaron’s stuff. We thought we might find some clues about his death.”
Bill’s jaw tensed. “Tiffany, I already told you, we’re not publishing anything about Aaron other than a standard obituary.”
Tiffany pressed her palms together in a prayer pose. “Just hear us out. Kat has this incredible theory. You might want to take notes.”
Bill peered at them for a moment before he took a seat in the visitor chair. “All right,” he said, pulling a notepad and pen from his breast pocket. “This better be good.”
Tiffany elbowed Kat. “It’s your theory. You tell him.”
Kat opened her mouth, but only a croak emerged. Her eyes were transfixed on the object in Bill’s hands, the image of him borrowing an order pad from Jessie yesterday flashing through her mind.
What were the odds that someone in the newspaper business wouldn’t have something to write on at all times? Yesterday she had been too preoccupied to consider the question, but now Bill’s unpreparedness struck her as strange.
Of course, Bill could have had his hand under the counter for another reason. What if he had really been sneaking the peanut oil and Aaron’s EpiPen onto the premises? She hadn’t seen him holding either item, but she remembered him putting his hands in his coat pockets. That was shortly before Jessie and Tiffany had started arguing. It would have been easy for him to place the oil and EpiPen under the counter while everyone’s attention had been on the two feuding women. Then, when he’d been caught with his hand still in place, he’d simply made up that excuse about borrowing something to write on. Everyone had been too busy reeling from Aaron’s death to question why he wouldn’t carry his own notepad around.
“Kat?”
Tiffany’s voice was like a bucket of ice water that shocked Kat back to the present. Her grip on the pill bottle tightened. “I know who killed Aaron.”
“You do?” Tiffany said. “Spill!”
Kat lifted up her arm and pointed her finger straight at Bill.