Tiger Lily did not go down easily. She shouted, screamed and struggled while Fred held her and Trent handcuffed her. I learned some new words that day, words I would have to be careful not to add to Zach’s vocabulary.
“She’s got my money!” the woman shrieked as Trent hauled her out of the room. “That money doesn’t belong to you! George told me where to find it, only me! Make her give it to me!”
“I’ll call you later, Lindsay!” Trent shouted, trying to make himself heard over Tiger Lily’s raving.
“Let me go! You don’t have any right to do this to me! I just want what’s mine!”
Fred crossed the room and offered a hand to help me up. Naturally I declined. I gave Henry one last hug, got to my feet and threw my arms around Fred.
I’d thought I might never see my cat, my friend or my future boyfriend again in this life. I couldn’t get enough of touching the cat and the friend and assuring myself they were real and I was alive. As soon as Trent got back, I was going to hug him for a very long time too, maybe even forgive him for not keeping me in the loop.
Like Henry, Fred permitted me a brief hug, then pulled back and looked at me. The concern in his eyes was as warming as a hug. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Did she hurt you?”
I shook my head. “Other than aging twenty years in the last few minutes, I’m fine. That woman is seriously nuts!”
The outside door closed, and the sounds of Tiger Lily’s rants diminished.
“A little borderline personality disorder,” Fred speculated. “I don’t know how serious it is.”
“If you’d been on the same end of that gun as I was, you’d know how serious it is!”
“I’m sure that would make a difference in perception.”
I picked up Henry. “Let’s go downstairs and get some Coke and chocolate.”
We went down to the kitchen. My back door was sagging open, letting the cool air out and the hot air in.
Fred straightened it as much as possible. “You’ll have to have it replaced. Looks like she took an axe to it. Apparently she got more and more angry with every failed attempt to get her hands on that money.”
I shivered, set Henry on the floor and popped open fresh Cokes for Fred and me.
“Thank goodness you heard Trent and me yelling and came over to investigate,” I said.
Fred accepted the soft drink. “I was already on my way to your house when I heard you and Trent yelling. My first clue was when Henry came to my back door, made a horrible noise and ripped my screen to shreds. Those claws are lethal.”
I sank to the floor and hugged Henry again. He purred. “So you weren’t deserting me. You just went for help. Good boy.”
Fred snorted. “He probably thought I had more catnip.”
At the mention of the magic word, Henry became instantly alert and strode over to his dish, looking back at me, his dealer. “Forget it,” I said. “You can have some nice stinky tuna. I think you’ve had enough catnip for a while.”
I opened a can of tuna and dumped half of it in Henry’s bowl.
“I can’t believe neither one of you understood my references to coffee which you know I never drink! I was trying to give you a code meaning somebody was holding a gun to my head and I needed help.”
Fred pulled out a kitchen chair and sat in it. “Oh, that. Trent just thought you were being sarcastic, like saying you’d as soon drink coffee as talk to him. You must admit, you do the sarcasm thing a lot. I thought that reference might be a signal for help, but I already knew you were in trouble from Henry’s actions and the fact that your back door was standing wide open. Did you fail to understand my reference to taking Trent to my place for a decent cup of coffee from my Keurig?”
I sat down in the chair beside him. “Your reference? I just thought you were going to make Trent a cup of coffee to calm him down. I didn’t even know you owned a Keurig.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t. You know I always grind my own coffee. I said that so you’d know I picked up on your coffee reference and would be coming in the back door to help you.”
“You thought I’d get all that from your saying you were going to make Trent coffee in your Keurig?”
“No more bizarre than your thinking Trent would know you had a gun to your head when you said you needed coffee.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic. “Want a brownie?”
“Yes.”
I got chocolate for both of us, sat back down and ate one. I was beginning to calm after my harrowing experience. “We know most of the answers. Kristen killed Lisa and Bradford, broke in here twice and tried a third time, questioned Paula, trying to find out if I had become suddenly rich so she’d know if I had the money. Rick said Lisa tried to burn down Death by Chocolate. But we still don’t know who’s got the money.”
Fred drummed his fingers on the wooden table top and looked thoughtful. “I’m not certain.”
“Amazing. There’s something Fred Sommers doesn’t know?”
“I think I know, and I plan to be certain in the near future.”
“Rick and I did have an elderly couple renting this place between the time we bought it from the Murrays and the time I moved in. Maybe they found it.”
“I don’t think so. They both had hip and knee problems. I doubt if they ever went downstairs. Anyway, when they left here, they moved in with their son across town, and nobody in that family has ten million dollars.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think it was them.”
“Perhaps the money never existed. Perhaps George’s scheme to steal it failed, but he claimed to have the money to impress Kristen.”
“Really?”
“I doubt it. But I refuse to speculate further until I have all the data.”
“Yeah, well, I refuse to give you any more brownies until you speculate.”
Fred thought about that for a moment. “I don’t believe you,” he said, reaching for a second brownie.
He was right. I would never deny a friend chocolate, especially not when that friend had just saved my life.
***
Trent got Kristen Delaney booked for double homicide as well as breaking and entering. There was some question as to whether she alone was guilty of murder or whether George Murray was involved. He claimed he’d only told her to get the money and hide it from his duplicitous friend and former lover, that the murders were the product of her own anger.
I didn’t care what charges they brought against him. I was just happy that my home, cat and person were no longer threatened by a crazy woman.
Saturday morning Paula and I inspected Death by Chocolate. The company we’d hired did a great job of cleaning and repainting. We did some final clean-up and got everything ready to reopen on Monday morning. Life was returning to normal.
That afternoon the Murrays arrived just at seven for a cookout. Fred and Trent were already in the back yard discussing the relative merits of gas vs. charcoal grills, beer as a marinade for steaks and other things that guys can discuss all day without ever reaching a conclusion. Paula was still at home preparing twice-baked potatoes and a salad while Zach had his nap so he’d be ready to stay up half the night and learn some new swear words courtesy of Tiger Lily if I had too much wine.
I invited the Murrays inside and held my breath as they looked around, uncertain how they’d take my changes to their home. I hadn’t made a lot of changes. I’d repainted so the walls were bright white, removed the heavy drapes and put up wooden mini-blinds. The hardwood floors were the same, and my furniture, while it was different from theirs, was antique or at least garage sale antique.
Cathy Murray moved around the room, touching the old sewing machine that had been my grandmother’s, studying the drop-leaf table, also from my grandmother, that held a Tiffany-style lamp created just for me by my friend Alex. Harold and I stood at the door and watched her. Finally she came back, her eyes misty, and hugged me.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “You’ve made a home here where we once had a home. I’m so glad the old place is still loved.”
I relaxed and smiled. “I do love this place, and I’m so glad you approve of what I’ve done with it. Now that…” I flinched, realizing I’d been about to say something that might upset them since it involved their grandson.
Cathy patted my hand. “Now that nobody’s trying to take it away from you, you can relax and enjoy it.”
“I’m sorry about George. Looks like he may be in prison longer than you thought.”
Harold wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and held her close. “George has made some bad choices, but I don’t think he was involved in the murders. We’ve hired an attorney for him.”
“Well, good. Trent says he probably won’t be charged with theft since the crime was never reported. Not like a drug dealer’s going to go running to the cops when he’s been robbed. In fact, Fred’s not a hundred percent certain the money ever existed.”
Cathy brightened. “I’ll bet you’re right about that money. George always was a fanciful boy.”
“She means he told a lot of lies,” Harold said.
“Harold!”
“Let’s go out back and get something to drink,” I said. “I have plenty of soft drinks, and Fred always brings excellent wine. And you can meet Trent.”
***
The evening was a total success. The food was great, the conversation was fun, everybody got on well with everybody else. Zach and Henry chased lightning bugs with no fears. Zach crashed shortly after nine, and Paula left to take him home. Cathy and Harold stayed another hour then said they needed to get home too. Harold had an early tee-time.
I gave them a to-go bag with Oatmeal Fudge Layer cookies. Fred, Trent and I walked with them to the front porch. The night had cooled quite nicely, and a full moon overhead cast intriguing shadows that changed my mundane yard to a fantasy world. Crickets chirped from their hiding places, and a bird rustled somewhere in my vast foliage. Henry slipped past me and disappeared into the bushes.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Cathy said, hugging everybody. “Next time will be at our place.”
“I’m ready any time,” I said.
Harold shook hands with Trent and Fred, then he gave me a hug.
They started off the porch, but Cathy turned back. “Oh, I must be getting senile! I left that bag of cookies you gave me sitting on your table. Trent, would you mind getting it for me?”
“Sure, no problem.”
As soon as he left, Harold and Cathy moved closer. “We need to ask you something, Fred,” Harold whispered.
“It’s about the money,” Cathy said.
Fred nodded. He didn’t look confused. I found that very confusing.
“You have it, don’t you?” Fred asked.
They both nodded. “We found it shortly after George was arrested,” Cathy admitted. “He didn’t hide it very well. That much money left quite a mound, and the bricks were all out of place.”
“We put it in an account in the Cayman Islands,” Harold said. “It’s all still there. We just used the interest to pay George’s attorney fees.”
“And to pay back our retirement fund for some of the money we’ve given him over the years,” Cathy said. “Do you think we’re going to get in trouble? Should we give it back?”
Fred shook his head. “Who would you give it back to? You haven’t committed any crime.”
Harold nodded. “Good. We’ll use it to help George start a new career when he gets out of prison.”
“We’re encouraging him to get his GED while he’s still inside, then he can start college as soon as he gets out.”
“Good plan,” I said.
Trent opened the door and stepped out to join us. “I can’t find that bag of cookies anywhere.”
“Oh, silly me! I have it right here!” Cathy laughed and held up the bag.
Fred, Trent and I stood on the porch and waved as the Murrays drove away.
“Nice people,” Trent said, “but what did she want to talk to you about when she sent me for a bag of cookies she knew she had all the time?”
I looked at Fred.
“Good night,” he said and walked across the yard toward his house, deserting me.
“Well?” Trent asked.
Why couldn’t he be as dense about Cathy’s little deceit as he’d been about my attempt to send a coded message using coffee?
“She told us about a beautiful trip they took to the Cayman Islands,” I said, wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. If that failed to distract him, I’d offer him more chocolate.
THE END