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The next day, Kat could barely concentrate on work. She squirmed in her seat, her eyes on the clock more than her computer screen. As soon as five o’clock hit she raced out of her office, too eager to poke around Lenora’s neighborhood to say goodbye to anyone.
First thing on her agenda was figuring out who that gardening trowel belonged to.
She detoured by her apartment to feed the cats and change into something more comfortable. Tom looked a bit bewildered by her whirlwind appearance, but he didn’t let that stop him from enjoying his dinner. Nothing, not even his human’s odd behavior, was going to dampen the big cat’s ravenous appetite.
Kat made it to Lenora’s neighborhood in record time. As she circled around the cul-de-sac, she spotted a handful of people loitering in front of the house directly west of Lenora’s. It was the Duncans’ place, she realized. Except, she didn’t see the Duncans anywhere, just Veronica and a few strangers laughing and chatting, beer bottles and soda cans in hand.
She parked by the curb and climbed out of her car. She could hear music coming from inside the house.
Melburn Duncan’s words about throwing a party to celebrate Lenora’s death echoed through her head. Surely he wouldn’t have gone through with such a morbid idea, would he?
The scene in front of her suggested he would indeed.
“Kat!” Veronica broke away from the group of people and met Kat near the Duncans’ driveway. “Are you here for the, um, memorial service?”
“Memorial service?” Kat’s words were almost drowned out by a peal of nearby laughter. “Is that what this is?”
Veronica’s cheeks pinked. She leaned closer and whispered, “I tried to tell Melburn it would be in bad taste, but he insisted.”
Kat considered pointing out that Veronica could have declined to attend, but what would be the point?
Veronica shifted her soda can from one hand to the other. “I wasn’t sure I should come, but I didn’t want to seem unfriendly.”
Kat mentally scolded herself for being so judgmental. “I understand,” she said. “Lenora obviously didn’t do much to cultivate good relationships with her neighbors. It would be unfair to expect you to mourn her death.”
“In all honesty, I feel a little bad about not feeling bad, if that makes sense. She might not have been the friendliest woman, but no one deserves to have their life taken away by another.”
Kat looked around, wondering if the murderer might be celebrating right along with everyone else. Her eyes landed on the red, yellow, and purple flowers blooming along the perimeter of the Duncans’ house. She wasn’t knowledgeable enough to say what they all were, but the variety of colors certainly brightened up the property. And it was evident the plants were lovingly cared for.
Whoever took care of those flower beds had to be quite the gardener. Could that trowel belong to the Duncans?
“Ronnie!”
Kat and Veronica turned around. Melburn stood by the front door, his beer bottle held aloft in greeting.
“What are you doing all the way out there?” he shouted, his words slightly slurred. “You aren’t thinking of sneaking off, are you? This party is just getting started!”
“I had to say hi to Kat,” Veronica yelled back.
Melburn hobbled toward them, his steps unsteady. Kat got the distinct impression that he was drunk.
“Kat!” Melburn’s lips stretched into a sloppy smile. “I would have invited you myself if I had known how to reach you.”
“It’s okay.” Kat leaned back, out of range of Melburn’s potent beer breath. Despite his claim that the party had only just started, he had obviously been celebrating for much longer.
Melburn knocked back his beer, draining the last of it. He tossed the empty bottle onto the grass, smacked his lips together, and released a belch loud enough to attract stares from the crowd gathered on the lawn.
“Looks like I need a refill,” he said. He hooked his elbow through Kat’s. “C’mon, let’s get you something too. Ronnie, you feel free to join us.”
Veronica held up her soda can. “I’m good for now, Melburn. You two have fun.”
Kat let Melburn drag her a few steps across the yard. When she was fairly certain he wouldn’t keel over if forced to support himself, she slipped her arm out of his.
The music was louder inside the house, but not so loud as to discourage conversation. One of the Duncans apparently liked the oldies, which wasn’t so surprising given their ages.
“Audrey!” Melburn called out, lurching across the living room.
“Mellie!” Audrey’s jaw dropped. “Are you drunk?”
“Nah, just enjoying myself.” He grabbed her arm with both hands and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. “You look gorgeous, my dear.”
Audrey blushed. “You are drunk.” She said it in a chiding tone, but Kat could tell she was pleased by the compliment.
“Kat here needs a drink,” Melburn said.
Audrey smiled at Kat. “What would you like?”
“Oh, uh . . .”
Her train of thought was derailed when she spied movement outside the window. There, creeping along the tree line that marked the end of the Duncans’ property and the beginning of the woods, was Mustang. The gray tom was hunched low to the ground, his eyes locked on to something in the distance. Kat scanned the yard, but she didn’t see any other animals. She could only figure he was stalking a mouse or some other small rodent.
She held her breath as Mustang inched forward. She had never truly seen a wild cat on the hunt before. Sure, Matty and Tom went through the motions with their toys and each other, but that was more for fun than anything. The way the feral was moving, with slow, deliberate footsteps, it was clear he took his hunts much more seriously than either of her indoor cats.
But of course he would, Kat thought. After all, for Mustang this wasn’t a game. If he failed to catch his prey there wasn’t a bowl of kibble waiting for him somewhere. Who knew how long it would be before another opportunity to eat arose?
“Kat?” Audrey said.
Kat yanked her attention back to her hostess. “Oh, sorry. I was just . . . admiring your flowers.”
Audrey beamed. “Why, thank you.”
“It’s obvious you take good care of them,” Kat went on. “What’s your secret?”
“Attention,” Melburn piped up. “Just like a woman, flowers need lots of TLC.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He knows nothing about gardening.”
“Hey, I bought you that nice potting bench, didn’t I?” Melburn said.
“That you did.” Audrey smiled at Kat. “He gave it to me for our fortieth wedding anniversary. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”
“It was,” Kat agreed.
She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking about trowels. But if one of the Duncans had killed Lenora, cluing them in to her suspicions would be foolish.
She cleared her throat. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on that drink for now. I’d like to mingle for a while first.”
Melburn waved her off. “Knock yourself out.”
Kat’s heart rate accelerated as she distanced herself from the Duncans. She had to find out if that trowel was theirs.
She looked around. Where would a person set up a potting bench? The backyard seemed like the logical place to start.
She made her way over to the sliding glass door embedded in the rear wall. With a quick peek at the Duncans to make sure they weren’t watching, she slipped outside.
A few partygoers were out here, including Shaun. He didn’t notice her, too busy talking to another man. They both stood on the far side of the lawn near what had to be the infamous cherry blossom tree. Kat wondered if they’d chosen that spot as a snub to Lenora.
She shook her head. She needed to focus on finding that potting bench.
She didn’t have to look hard. The bench sat next to the house only a few feet from where she was standing. It looked similar to a desk, and featured a workspace, one lone drawer, a narrow upper shelf, and a wider lower shelf.
There was also a latticed back where hand tools hung on hooks. Taking inventory, she saw a small rake, some sort of miniature hoe, and a three-pronged thingamajig whose function eluded her.
What she didn’t see was a trowel.
She searched the shelves. When she failed to spot anything noteworthy lying in plain sight, she slid the drawer open. Inside lay a pair of beat-up gardening gloves and some seed packets, but no trowel.
She closed the drawer, at a loss over where to look next. Then she noticed the handles of the three tools in front of her. Made of wood, the color, length, and shape looked identical to the handle of the trowel found in Imogene’s car.
That trowel had definitely belonged to the Duncans.
But did that mean one of them was guilty? Given how their property wasn’t fenced in, it wouldn’t have been difficult for anyone to wander into their backyard and steal it.
Which left her no closer to figuring out who had killed Lenora than she had been the night before.
