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“DON’T SHOOT HIM!” SEPTEMBER lurched between the aimed guns and Shadow. Her arms reflexively tightened, and Macy struggled, meowing in protest. “My service dog won’t hurt you. Shadow, down.”
Shadow dropped at her feet, whimpers and cries of happiness spilling from his throat. His tail swept a single angel-wing in the snow, and he pressed his cheek against September’s ankle.
Detective Steele’s aim didn’t falter, but neither did he shoot. “Put it on a leash.”
September shook her head. “Can’t. Left his leash in my car.” She nodded at the nearby SUV. “During the attack, we got separated. Thought I lost you again, baby-dog,” she said, sotto voce, and then cleared her throat. “Now he’s with me, he won’t move from my side. Unless I tell him to.” Her chin jutted out. “We’re a package deal.”
Steele grudgingly holstered his weapon and motioned the other officers to stand down as well. “Attack, huh? And you made it out, with a cat besides?” Steele pursed his lips and took in her bedraggled appearance, but to his benefit, he didn’t roll his eyes. “That’s a story I want to hear.”
“Aren’t you going to arrest her?” The tall stranger’s face turned a mottled red. “That’s her, Detective. She did something to Angela.” He didn’t shout, but spittle flew from his lips with the intensity of his accusations.
“All in good time, Judge.” Steele tipped his head at the tall stranger. “We’ll talk later.”
September looked with surprise from the Detective to the Judge when Shadow growled and his body poised to spring at the stranger. She didn’t recognize his voice. His face showed no signs of coffee scald, either. Her shoulders relaxed. She placed a gentle hand on Shadow’s ruff. He looked up at her face, furred brow wrinkled with concern.
The Judge took a limping step toward September, gloved fist raised and shaking. Shadow growled louder, and stood, placing himself between her and the stranger.
“Judge Southgate. George.” Steele sharpened his tone, finally breaking through to the upset man. “I’ll get your official statement tomorrow. Thanks for your help. But I got my hands full here for the next several hours.”
The Judge brushed snow from his wool coat as if shrugging off his outburst. He adjusted his hat and strode away.
He must be Angela’s friend, maybe the lawyer they were supposed to meet. September didn’t blame him. Finding out about Angela’s death would be devastating to her friends. The circumstances made things worse. Adrenalin kept her own shock at bay, and Shadow wired, but would soon wear off. The vision of Angela’s suspended body would haunt her forever. Without Shadow by her side—thank God he’d returned to her!—she’d melt into a puddle.
“It’s horrible what happened to Angela. Is the Judge a friend of hers?” Macy mewed and struggle in her arms, probably overheated within the down-filled coat.
Steele nodded and narrowed his eyes. “What’s your story? Were you with her when she died? Looks like a combat zone in there.”
She shook her head. “She was gone when I found her. Hanging in the garage.” She shuddered, her arms tightening again. Macy objected and dug his claws into her middle. “Can I put him in my car? Then we can talk without distraction.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Uhm, well...” September rocked from foot to foot. “See, I left my bag inside by the coat closet, with my car keys. That’s why I had to take Angela’s car to...to get away.” Damn, it sounded like a graphic novel invented by teenagers high on energy drinks. “Can I get my keys? And my bag? Big ugly green canvas thing.” She hesitated, then added, “There’s a spare leash in the bag, too.”
The idea of a leash seemed to convince Steele. He motioned to a nearby officer. “Look for a green canvas bag near the front door and bring it here.” As the officer hurried into the house, Steele turned back to September. “We’ll need to vet the contents first.”
“Of course.” With any luck, Mr. Bleak hadn’t managed to take all of Chris’s papers. Without them, she had no evidence to explain why Angela asked her to come.
Her eyes welled. Chris, Dakota, and now Angela. All felled by the curse she carried.
The officer quickly reappeared in the open front door of the house. She shook her head, holding out her empty gloved hands in a palm-up posture.
Steele stared at September with a hard smile, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.
“Maybe he took my bag.” Shadow whined and pushed against her thigh. Unconsciously, her hand dropped and clutched the ruff of black fur on his neck. She felt the dog relax and her own heart-rate slow.
“Who? Oh, the guy who ambushed you?” He forced a laugh. “What, did your bag match his outfit?”
She glared. “He wanted Chris’s files from the bank lockbox. I had them in my bag.” Disappointment made her throat ache. “Are you sure nobody could find car keys, or find my bag?”
Shadow stiffened and stood at attention. His neck arched with interest. September glanced down at him and he woofed softly as he stared up into her face. His tail waved, eager.
September nodded understanding, but tightened her grip on Shadow’s fur. Without taking her eyes off of the dog, she spoke quietly. “Detective Steele, my dog thinks he can find my bag. It’s still here somewhere. If not inside, then maybe dropped nearby. It could still have Chris’s evidence...”
Steele crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised with mock surprise. “Your dog told you that? Read his mind, did you?” Sarcasm dripped, interspersed with impatience. “Sure, and my Barney and Milkdud will be the next big dog-and-cat winners on that big-assed TV talent show.” He called to the police officer in the doorway. “Put Ms. September here in a car.” His face tightened. “You can cool your heels until I’ve got time to debrief you. And, your dog damn well better not mess in the car.”
When Steele turned away, September released her grip on Shadow’s ruff. “Find bag!”
Steele yelled when Shadow leaped away. “What’s he doing?” He put one hand on his gun, but thankfully didn’t draw. “Call your dog. Dammit, I don’t have time for this!”
September tried not to smile as she watched Shadow test the air for scent. “Shadow loves tracking games. If it’s here, he’ll find my bag. And maybe evidence about Angela’s murder.”
Shadow made a beeline toward the house next door where looky-lous gathered on the porch. They squealed and backed away when he bulldozed through white drifts to reach the holly shrub on one side of the front steps. The dog stuck his head into the snow beneath the plant first on one side and then on the other. His front half disappeared, until only Shadow’s black haunches and wagging tail remained in sight. And then he backed out of the snowdrift, dragging the green canvas bag by the handle. Shadow dropped the handle momentarily, shook himself briskly, and then grabbed the strap once more and carried it proudly back to September.
“Good dog, Shadow.” September motioned to Steele and watched as Shadow again picked up the bag, lugged it closer and deposited it at the detective’s feet.
One of the porch gawkers, after a whispered conference with family members, called out to them. “We helped that other man collect the papers that spilled out. Was that okay?”
“Well, I’ll be a swamp-toed nitpicker.” Steele hooked a thumb for one of the police officers to take the neighbor’s statement. He took off his glasses, polished them between the fingers of his gloves, but only managed to smear the lenses. He pocketed the glasses. “Neat trick. Don’t suppose you staged that little demonstration?”
September bit back her retort. She’d be suspicious, too, given the circumstances. She fumed silently as he picked up her bag and fished inside to dig out the keys. Without a word, she allowed Steele to escort her to her car.
Shadow stayed glued to her side, keeping his body between September and the detective. Steele watched closely when she opened the rear of the car, carefully unzipped her coat, and unhooked the cat’s claws from her sweater.
“Good boy, Macy-cat. You’ve been through a lot. Chill, big guy, and I’ll be back soon.” She spilled some dry kibble into his bowl. September closed the car door, satisfied Macy would relax and sleep off his adventure after finishing his meal. She cocked one eyebrow at the detective and his look of surprise. “Need to search my car, too, I suppose? There’s a gun in the glove box. I’m licensed to carry.”
“Good to know.” He eyed Shadow with suspicion. “You want to put up the dog, too, please.” When she would have objected, he held out his hands. “Granted, he’s well trained. I now remember your and Chris’s dog was too. But meet me halfway. Put him on a leash, so he doesn’t go dashing off and get himself shot.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks and nodded, accepting the short lead he found in her bag. Shadow happily slurped her cheek when she bent to hook him up.
“Tell me what happened. Someone ambushed you, and killed Angela?” The green bag hung from his hand.
“I don’t know if the same man attacked Angela. He wore a ski mask. He’ll have scald marks on his face where I threw hot coffee. And possibly cat bites through leather gloves. Macy tried to get him.”
He smiled. “Resourceful. So noted.”
“It bought me some time to get away. He called himself Mr. Bleak.” She remembered what he’d said, about her taking the blame. “Angela invited me to visit, but we kept missing each other. It’s all on the text messages on my phone. The cell phone’s in the bag, too.”
“Not the story that I heard. Interesting. Don’t suppose you’ve got anything to support the invitation?”
She pointed to her bag, and he allowed her to dig inside to find her phone. When prompted, she gave him the code to unlock it.
He scrolled through the messages as she continued. “I’d left Macy—that’s my cat—in the guest bedroom. When we returned, I sent Shadow to check-it-out. That is, to clear the house of intruders.” The dog whined, his ears pricked, and he danced a jig, anticipating the action. She smiled, and put a calming hand on the white scar on his cheek.
September watched Steele’s face as he perused the text messages. He poked a tongue into his cheek, and inhaled a long breath.
“Shadow alerted that something was wrong, but he got shut outside in the back yard when the man ambushed me. He said he’d kill me, and make it look like Angela did it and then hung herself.” Tears finally threatened and she angrily dashed them away. “I didn’t know she’d been hurt, and was ... was dead ... until I ran to hide in the garage and found her.” She straightened her shoulders. “This Mr. Bleak ambushed me and shut off the power. I couldn’t get the garage door open. So when I found Angela’s car keys, I took the only way out.”
“Drove a car through the garage.” Steele shook his head in amazement, and handed her back the phone. “That’s quite a story. But there’s no text messages on your phone, not from Angela or anyone else.”
“What?” She grabbed it from his hands and quickly scrolled the history. Everything had been deleted. “That makes no sense. Wait. You could recover deleted text messages, right?” She grabbed at her bag and he watched her shuffle through the contents. “Damn! He took Chris’s files, too.” Her cell phone rang, but before she could answer, Steele took it back. His brow furrowed when he read the caller I.D. “How do you know Officer Teves?”
“Tee? I helped train her police dog, Karma. Oh crap, I am supposed to pick her up at the airport.” She reached for her phone again, but Steele held it beyond her reach and answered.
“Officer Teves, this is Detective Frank Steele of the South Bend P.D. I got a call from Detective Redford a little while ago, bringing me up to speed on your investigation.” He listened, raising one eyebrow at September. “Yes, I’m looking at her right now. Yep, she’s got a big ol’ black German Shepherd dog with her. And a cat.” He stifled a laugh. “So she’s not a nut-case after all? She’s legit? Wonders never cease.” He handed September her phone. “I want you at the station tomorrow morning. We’ll get your statement then.”
She turned half away, whispered fiercely. “Tee? What’d you tell him? I’ve had a day from hell, and...”
Tee cut her off. “You and me both. Did you get Macy from a breeder named Sissie Turpin?”
September stopped, mouth open. What did that have to do with anything? “Macy was a gift from... Never mind.” The big Maine Coon was the only good thing to come out of those horror-filled years with Victor. “Yes, he came from that cattery. Why?”
“Give your phone back to Detective Steele.”
“C’mon, Tee, what’s going on? I planned to visit the cattery sometime during my visit here. Before everything went to hell, that is. So what should I know?”
After a brief silence, Tee sighed loudly. “I think Turpin helped orchestrate a decades-long conspiracy. And the cats may hold the key.”
