"That's bad." Riley shook his head when I dropped off the DVD. "We need to move things up."
Kelly patted my arm. "We'll get this solved, Merry."
Claire walked over and handed me a platter of artistically arranged Hostess snacks and walked away. It was scary awesome how she knew when I was coming by and what I needed.
"I hacked into some security cameras at the gas stations at the roads in and out of Bladdersly," Riley explained. "I've been going through them to see if I can spot Malone. No luck yet."
"He's got to be somewhere," I said hopefully.
"What are you going to do now?" Kelly asked.
I put my arms protectively around the platter. "I've got to see a man about a cat. Or…a woman. Or two people. Well, at least a person…"
Riley held up his hand. "Just get going. I'll see what we can do with this." He held up the DVD. "And, Merry, be careful this time."
"Who are you?" A thirty-something guy in a bathrobe peered at me through a crack in the doorway.
I stood on the stoop of the other half of Tyson's duplex. It was still daylight, so breaking into Tyson's place seemed like a bad idea, considering I was his alleged killer. And since the duplex shared an open basement, I figured that I could bluff the neighbor into letting me in.
"I'm a friend of Tyson's. His brother, Mike, sent me to see if there's anything left of his to pick up."
Of course, Tyson didn't have a brother. And for a moment, I wondered if using Mike as the name was a stupid move, considering Mike and Tyson together made it sound super fake. But maybe the neighbor wouldn't know much about Tyson and think it all made sense.
The door opened all the way. The man was scruffy, unshaven, and possibly unwashed. And he didn't appear to have anything on other than the bathrobe. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.
"Why don't you have a key?" he asked.
"Mike had to turn in the key to the landlord. But he realized he hadn't searched the basement. Tyson told him you shared the basement."
"Okay." He opened the door a little wider and walked inside.
Huh. I was surprised that worked.
I followed, closing the door behind me. "Thanks, um…"
"Frank. And you are?"
"Molly"—I thought quickly—"Molly Nixon. Were you friends with Tyson?" Part of me wanted to get downstairs so that I could leave. This guy was seriously creepy.
"Not really. He was kind of an ass." Frank paused, looking me in the eye. "Sorry. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead since he was your friend and all." He belched. "Come on."
I followed him to his door that led down to the basement, and then I followed him downstairs.
I stared at the back wall. "That's all his?"
Frank nodded. "Yeah. I was surprised this stuff was still here."
There were—all sealed with tape and labelled Private. How very mysterious. Would any of these have a clue that would solve this case?
"Oh," I said, remembering. "About the cat. Effie?"
Frank's eyes glazed over. "What cat?"
That's what I'd thought. When I'd been here before, I hadn't seen any evidence that a cat lived here. And yet, somebody retrieved a cat named Effie.
"Oh wait. I remember." Frank scratched his head. "He was cat-sitting or something. Some guy knocked on my door with the cat and asked me to give it to Tyson."
"And did you?"
"Nah. I just put it down here. Since we shared a basement, I figured Tyson would grab him sooner or later."
"You didn't say anything to Tyson about it?"
"I hate cats." He shrugged.
And from that moment on, I refused to feel bad if this went south and came back to haunt Frank. Who hates cats? Somebody like this loser.
"Well, thanks," I said. "I can take it from here."
"Whatever. You can take them through Tyson's place so that you don't bug me." Frank belched again and made his way upstairs, slamming the door behind him.
I tiptoed up Tyson's stairs, emerging into his living room, just to make sure no one was there. It was a good thing I did. Because Neil, the guy who hadn't been friends with Tyson anymore, was sitting in Tyson's living room watching TV.
Now that was interesting. Why was Neil here? Frank must not have realized anyone was in Tyson's apartment. Or he didn't care.
I slipped back down to the basement. Damn. Both exits were cut off. I really wanted to take these boxes home and go through them. But Neil had lied to me to put me off. And that made him a person of interest. And Frank had already insisted I go through Tyson's place. Ignoring his request could make him check me out more closely.
There was no evidence of Effie here. And Frank's story about cat-sitting did sound plausible. Effie wasn't as important right now as me getting out of here undiscovered. The last thing I needed was yet another confrontation with the Bladdersly PD for being somewhere I wasn't supposed to be.
Until I came up with a plan, I might as well search these boxes. Stepping up to the first one, I used my keys to cut through the tape. Prying back the box flaps revealed a stack of boxes of laptops. Still in their original packaging.
The other eleven boxes revealed the same thing. There were sixty laptops in all. Not one of them had been opened. What was it Nyla said? That Tyson sold the laptops to people who would just resell them? And that it was unethical but not illegal, and since he'd moved laptops, it was okay?
Why did he have sixty brand-new computers in his basement? Was this the missing shipment? Was I being too hopeful in thinking he might've been killed for that? If these were top-of-the-line laptops, they could add up to $60,000. But then someone at Best Bye would have noticed if all those premium computers were missing.
I took one of the laptops out and restacked the boxes. Maybe Riley could look this over and tell me if there was anything unusual about it. It could be better than what I was originally looking for.
Maybe Effie's presence here was just that—Tyson was watching the cat. It seemed kind of crazy. But then, nothing in this case was normal. And the only way to find out about Effie would be, what, to put something out on social media asking for information on Effie the cat?
At the moment, I was far more interested in the computers. I just had to get past Neil. Sitting in this basement for hours while he hung out was a waste of time.
My cell rang, and I answered it immediately.
"Merry!" Ivan's voice was jovial. "Ron and I want to go to that tattoo shop where I got my ink. Would you like to join us?"
"What?" I whispered. "No. I do not want to join you."
Ivan acted as if I hadn't just said I didn't want to go. "You should get tattoo of something meaningful. Like your cat, Philby."
Ron shouted in the background, "Or your little paramilitary group."
"Paramilitary group?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Yes," Ivan answered. "With the scary little girls. That Betty could be Chechen strongman now."
I was intrigued as to what a tattoo of Betty would look like. She could be riding Cookie the horse while waving a Catalonian flag. Of course, then you run into the dilemma of where to put something that would have to be pretty large. Maybe on the back? Betty would love that. I'd better not give her any ideas. I could wake up with it after the next sleepover.
"No thanks. I'm good." An idea hit me. "You guys are coming to Bladdersly now?"
"Yes. Be there in five minutes," Ivan said.
"Maybe you can help me out. Is your heart set on the tattoo shop you went to?"
Five minutes later, I heard the TV go off upstairs and the front door slammed. Neil must've gotten the call that Ron and Ivan wanted tattoos at his place. Huh. The guys got this one right. I'd have to thank them later.
Quietly, I made my way upstairs and peered through a crack in the door. No movement. I wasn't taking any chances. After letting myself out the back door, I walked down to the end of the alley before turning to go to my van, parked in front of the duplex.
"You got this from Tyson's?" Riley stared at the box.
I'd gone directly to Riley's office and handed it over. A box of my favorite donuts was sitting on a nearby table.
"Claire said you'd be coming back." Kelly smirked as she joined us.
I picked up a donut. "How does she know that every time? And can she move in with me?"
Claire, as usual, completely ignored us.
"Anyway, Tyson has sixty laptops. All like this," I explained once I'd chewed and swallowed said donut. "Can you tell me anything about them?"
Riley typed something on his keyboard. After a few moments, he spoke. "Not really. They're kind of generic. It's a basic model that is mostly used by students."
I rocked back on my heels. "That doesn't seem helpful. Do you think Tyson stole these?"
Riley thought for a moment. "I can scope out a few databases to check the serial numbers to see if they were stolen."
"Okay." I pulled my car keys out. "Oh hey, is there any way to find out who owns a particular cat?"
Kelly's eyebrows went up. "A cat?"
"Yeah. Tyson was watching a cat named Effie for some guy. I don't know if it is relevant."
"Probably not," Riley said. "Sounds like a waste of time. What do you want us to do? Take out an ad in the paper?"
"I'll take care of it," Kelly said quickly.
Riley shrugged. "I think it's a dead end."
"Well." Kelly sniffed. "Good thing I've got all this new, state-of-the-art equipment."
Riley had the good grace not to say anything.
I clapped my hands together. "Great! I've got to get back to the Chapel of Despair to read a book."
Claire, for the first time ever, turned to look at me. Like, really look at me. "That druid place? Used to be a Lutheran church?"
Claire had just spoken to me? "Yes. You know it?"
What would ultra-cool, super-refined Claire want with that place? Was she related to one of the druids? I really knew very little about her, and she knew so much about me.
"I find it very interesting," she said before turning back to her computer.
An image of the stunning redhead walking into the place, asking for information on membership, and Stewie promptly exploding, popped into my head.
"Maybe I'll see you there," I said awkwardly. "I'm their Bird Goddess."
Claire didn't acknowledge me speaking. Hopefully, she hadn't heard me.
"That went well," Kelly whispered.
"Hey," I asked her, "how are you going to find this cat, Effie, out of all the cats in Bladdersly?"
"I have an idea." Kelly winked before returning to her desk. As she sat down, she looked me over. "Are those the shoes you were wearing the night of the murder?"
"Huh?" I looked down to see the white canvas shoes on my feet. They had some fancy name with a patent leather swoosh on the side. "I guess I was wearing these."
"It's the only pair you've worn all summer," my best friend said.
I gave her a dry look. "I've worn other shoes."
"Maybe once or twice," Kelly corrected. "But you've worn these 99% of the time. You always get fixated on one pair until you wear it out."
"I do not!" I totally did. I just didn't want her to know that she was right.
Kelly got up and took off her sport sandals, handing them to me. "Let me check those out. You can wear my shoes."
I couldn't think of any reason not to swap, so I handed them over and flounced out the door. As the most responsible of the two of us, she probably knew what she was doing. And we wore the same size shoes, so why not?
Back at the Chapel of Despair, I punched in the code and let myself in. There was no one around. I found my copy of the book and made my way home.
"You're home?" Rex was feeding the cats. "Hey, I thought you threw the werewolf mask away. Philby's got it on."
Sure enough, the feline führer was sitting next to the frog's aquarium wearing the werewolf mask she'd commandeered from us after a Halloween parade a while back. I had no idea where she'd kept it. She hid it somewhere in the house where I suppose she thought we'd never look. Which was silly since we had no intention of taking it from her, and I'd certainly never throw it out.
"She's trying to intimidate Rufus." Rex kissed me.
"Is it working?"
"No. Leonard, however…" Rex pointed to the corner of the dining room, where our Scottish deerhound was sitting in a corner, face to the wall. "Is appropriately terrified."
I sighed and walked over to the dog, who nuzzled my hand. And he'd been so happy earlier. "Poor Leonard. Philby is so mean to you. Come on. Let's get a treat!"
After a wary glance at the kitty werewolf, Leonard followed me to the kitchen, where I gave him three dog treats. He wagged his tail and trotted out to the living room.
"Would you mind filling me in?" Rex asked. "I promise not to tell Carnack or Vanderzee."
I was tired. This case was like the Hydra—chop one head off and two more grew back. There were too many suspects. Too many threads to follow.
"Why not?" I told him about what I'd found in Tyson's basement.
My husband frowned. "I don't remember hearing anything about stolen computers. And a haul that large would've come in to me."
That was a surprise. "Even if it's outside of your jurisdiction?"
Rex nodded. "It's kind of a specialty of mine. The other small-town PDs often help each other out. I reach out to neighboring towns all the time for info."
That was interesting. "But Vanderzee never asked?"
"No. Maybe it hasn't been reported. Or maybe this theft was from somewhere else. Like Des Moines or Omaha or the Quad Cities."
"Well, Riley is looking into it. Maybe it's relevant. Maybe it's not." Back in the living room, I stretched out on the sofa. "You didn't say anything about me sneaking into Tyson's basement or using your brothers-in-law to get me out of there."
"That's because it isn't my jurisdiction." Rex joined me on the couch and took my hand. "I've decided that if I want to have you home and want to keep track of your antics, I need to leave the job at the office."
"Good idea. I know I'm a pain in the butt."
"Yes, you are." Rex kissed me again. If I didn't have to reread this book, I might go for an all-out make out session on the couch.
Wait a minute… "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Rex gave me a long look. "Because we're going to a cookout tonight."
I sat straight up. "Yay! Steaks? Are we taking wine? Is it Kelly and Robert's house?"
Rex shook his head. "With Randi, Ronni, and their husbands. At their place."
I slumped against the couch. "Oh."
My husband put his arm around me. "Out of the four of them, three love you. Remember that."
"Why are we going?" I grumbled.
"Randi has been chewing Ronni out for her dislike of you. She wants to make it up to you."
"Dislike is far too weak a word to describe it." I held up the book. "And I've got some serious reading to do."
"You have half an hour. I'll get everything ready." Rex started to walk into the kitchen. "Hold on." He held up the beard that Philby must've discarded earlier. "What is this? I almost shot it when I walked into the kitchen when I got home."
I took it from him. "My disguise from the other night. The one you didn't think was sexy."
"Oh. Right," he said. "And why are you wearing someone else's shoes?"