A Catered Birthday Party Part 22

"That's okay," Samantha said as she blew a smoke ring and watched it drift across the front window. "Neither does my dad."

"You shouldn't be smoking," Sean admonished.

"Neither should you," Samantha shot back.

"Yeah, but you're young. I'm old, so it doesn't matter."

"I'm not that young," Samantha said. "In two months, I'll be twenty-one."

"That's very old," Sean told her with a straight face. "I didn't realize you were an antique."

Samantha giggled. "I suppose it's not that old from where you sit."

"Not exactly," Sean said wryly.

Samantha rolled down her window, cupped her hand, tapped the ash from her cigarette into it, and dumped it out the window. "Not to change the subject or anything, but what if Ramona's not here?"

"Then we'll come back another time," Sean said, doing the same thing with his cigarette that Samantha had done.

"I don't see her car."

"It's probably in the garage."

"We should have called first."

Sean shook his head. "No, we shouldn't have. Then we'd give up the element of surprise."

Samantha just grunted and took another drag.

Sean took a moment to study the structure in front of him. It was one of those ramshackle buildings that seem to have grown themselves. The place was tucked away on the back end of the Colbert estate. It was separated from the main building by the swimming pool, the tennis courts, and the flower beds on one side, and bounded on the other side by Route 63 and Freemont Woods. You had to know it was there to find it.

Sean decided that the structure must have been built-or maybe cobbled together would be a better description-with the intention of housing the hired help. If the house that Richard Colbert lived in was built for show, this place was built for function. The bungalow-style cottage had once been painted red, but although patches of the original color remained close to the ground, the wind and the weather had combined to scour the color off the rest of the walls. An empty dog run and a small garage stood a short distance away.

Samantha pointed. "That's probably where Ramona keeps Trudy when she stays here."

Sean didn't doubt it. "Some people keep their dogs in places like that," Sean said. His dad had always kept his hunting dogs in an outside run. Otherwise they'll get spoiled, his dad used to say.

"Maybe," Samantha answered. "But Trudy isn't that kind of dog. Trudy has outfits. And shoes. My, there are a lot of cats here," Samantha noted, changing the subject.

"Yes, there are," Sean agreed.

He couldn't believe that he hadn't seen them at first, but maybe they'd been scared off by the sound of Samantha's Mini Cooper when it roared to a stop. He knew he would be. And then after a few minutes of quiet, they'd crept back out. He counted ten at least. Maybe twelve. Most of which were hanging out near the garage. Then he spotted another couple near the blue spruce over to the left.

"I bet she feeds them all," Sean said as he opened the car door.

Otherwise they wouldn't be hanging around. Cats were opportunistic in that way. No food and they found somewhere else to go. He remembered when his grandma had started feeding the barn cats. In the end, much to his dad's disgust, they'd had twenty of them lounging about. It's a waste of food, he remembered his dad saying. Gram hadn't cared. But at least they hadn't had any mice, Sean thought. Not too many birds either, come to think of it. Then his mind turned to the problem of removing himself from the Mini Cooper. In situations like these, planning was key.

He'd just managed to extract himself after a five-minute struggle that Samantha had the good grace to look away from when Ramona Birdwell came barreling around the corner. She was wearing a black wool watch cap, a bright yellow parka, matching snow pants, Gortex boots, and thick brown leather work gloves. Sean couldn't help thinking that she reminded him of a walking fireplug.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she barked as she drew closer to where Sean and Samantha were standing.

Sean introduced himself and Samantha.

Ramona gestured toward Sean with her chin. "So are you related to the Simmons sisters, the ones who catered Annabel's party?" Ramona asked.

"I'm their father," Sean explained.

The expression on Ramona's face made it plain that this did not improve his standing in her eyes. "That turned into quite a fiasco, didn't it?" she said. Her tone exhibited a certain amount of smug satisfaction that Sean found particularly distasteful. It was almost as if she was glad that the whole affair had turned out the way it did, that she thought Annabel had it coming.

"Well, under the circ.u.mstances," Sean replied, "I don't see how it could have been anything else but a fiasco."

Ramona snorted. "I told Annabel the whole idea was ridiculous. Trudy is a dog, not some fancied-up child. But Annabel wouldn't listen. Never would. Had to have the party even though I was trying to get Trudy's weight down by half a pound. She always had to have things her way. Money just makes some people stupid."

"And others envious," Sean observed.

"Not me, if that's what you're implying," Ramona answered as she pointed to Samantha. "And you," Ramona snapped. "What's your excuse for being here?"

Samantha looked around nervously.

"She's the one who found Trudy," Sean said before Samantha could answer.

A furrow appeared just above the bridge of Ramona's nose. "What do you mean, found Trudy?"

"Near your place. She found Trudy near your place. So we came to see if you were missing a dog."

"My place?" Ramona repeated.

"Yes. She was outside by the road," Sean lied.

"The road?" Ramona's voice quivered with outrage. "That's absurd. You're making it up."

"At least we think it's Trudy," Sean continued. "Maybe it's not. I have to confess that to me one pug looks just like another."

"Not to me," Ramona snapped.

"Obviously," Sean observed.

"Was she hurt?" Ramona asked.

"Not at all," Sean replied.

"I'd like to see her," Ramona said.

"The pug?"

"Who else would I be talking about?" Ramona growled.

Sean shrugged. "Sorry. The pug's fine. She got into some stuff, so one of my daughters took her to get cleaned up. Of course, we'll need proper doc.u.mentation before returning her to Richard. She could be someone else's dog." Then before Ramona could say anything else, Sean gestured toward the cats. "Are these all yours?"

Ramona's voice softened. Her body relaxed. "Those are my outdoor kitties. I have more inside."

Sean rubbed his hands together. "Speaking of inside, do you think I can make use of the facilities?"

Sean could tell from the frown on Ramona's face that she was anxious to let him in her house. "Please," he said. "Just for a moment."

"Do you like cats?" Ramona asked.

"As well as the next man. Why?"

"You'll see," Ramona said. And then she added, "But I want you to just do your business and go. I don't want you poking around in there."

Sean drew himself up. "I hadn't intended to."

"Good," Ramona replied. "Because my babies aren't used to people and I don't want them to get spooked."

"Neither do I," Sean said.

And he meant it. One or two cats were fine. But he suspected he'd find multiple cats in Ramona's house, and that was a different story. So, it was with some trepidation that Sean followed Ramona inside. The first thing Sean and Samantha noticed when they stepped inside was the cats. They were everywhere. Lounging on the window seat, sitting on chairs, draped over the back of the sofa, lying on the rugs. Sean lost count after fifteen. And he was willing to bet there were more in the other rooms of the house. Many more. The second thing Samantha and Sean noticed was the lack of smell. He realized he'd been unconsciously girding himself for the reek of kitty litter, but it wasn't there.

"Training dogs is my business, but cats are my weakness," Ramona said.

"I can see that," Sean said as he carefully picked his way to the bathroom.

When he came back, despite what Ramona had just said to him about doing what he had to do and leaving, she and Samantha had seated themselves on the sofa in the living room. Samantha was stroking a three-legged ginger-colored tabby who was sprawled across her lap, while Ramona was brushing the back of a large black and white tomcat. Two gray cats and a tortoise sh.e.l.l looked on.

"I told Richard not to do that," Sean heard Ramona saying to Samantha. "But he didn't listen. He never does."

"You must be relieved to be reinstated," Sean said, interrupting the two women's conversation. He was standing against the wall because all the other possible seats were being taken up by felines. And anyway, if he sat down he'd just have to get up again, and transitions like that were hard for him.

Ramona shot him a sharp look. "What do you mean, reinstated?"

"Well, I'd heard that Annabel was hiring someone else to mount Trudy's campaign for Westminster," Sean said, repeating what Clyde had told him earlier that afternoon.

"That's ridiculous," Ramona spluttered. "She would never think of doing such a thing. I've been with Trudy since the beginning."

"I'm glad to hear that. You know what gossip is like in a small town like Longely."

"Yes, I do," Ramona said. "People here are like a bunch of piranhas. They have way too much time on their hands if you ask me."

Sean was just about to say that piranhas had fins, not hands, but he managed to restrain his inner Bernie. Instead he said, "I also heard that you were going to have to move out of here because the house comes with your job."

Ramona's eyes narrowed. "What a lot of drivel. Where did you hear that from?"

Sean shrugged. "You know how people talk."

"I bet it was Joyce or Melissa, wasn't it? They would say something like that. They've always hated me. Especially Joyce. She couldn't bear to think that I was important to Annabel. She has a nasty mean streak in her. My cats can't stand her. Or Melissa, for that matter. And they are very good judges of character."

"No. It wasn't them," Sean a.s.sured her.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then it was Joanna."

"It wasn't her either. Really," Sean said. He could tell Ramona didn't believe him. "But I'm glad to hear that's not the case. It certainly would be hard to find a place given the cats. They must cost a lot of money to take care of," he observed.

Ramona didn't say anything, but Sean could see from the way she'd stiffened up that he'd hit a home run with his comments. Score one for Clyde.

The question, though, was: Was that enough of a motivation for murder?

If Ramona was about to lose everything-her job, a place to live, her beloved animals-then Sean thought the answer to that question could be yes.

As he and Samantha left the house, Sean was glad he'd come out here. He'd learned a lot. It had definitely been worth the ride, and given the circ.u.mstance that was saying quite a lot. On the way back to the car, he walked over to the garage, scattering cats as he went, and peered in the window.

Through the dirt and the cobwebs, Sean saw bags and bags of cat litter, cat food, flea spray, as well as three brown quart bottles that he was positive were going to turn out to be Malathion. He was about to try the garage door when Ramona came out and started screaming at them. At that point, he figured it was time to go. He and Samantha beat a hasty retreat, or as hasty as he could manage, got into the Mini Cooper, and zoomed off to pick up Trudy.

Chapter 21.

Samantha looked at Ines. Ines looked at Sean. Sean looked at Trudy. Trudy didn't look at anyone. She was happily exploring the carpeting in the back room of the Longley Historical Society.

"You want me to do what?" Ines asked Sean.

Sean explained again. "It'll just be for a few days," he a.s.sured her. "Till we get everything straightened out."

Ines put her hands on her hips. Sean thought she looked particularly good in the black turtleneck sweater and suede straight skirt she was wearing, "What is 'everything' exactly?" she demanded.

"Really, you'd be better off not knowing," Sean told her. Which was true.

"Because it's illegal?" Ines asked.

Sean waved his hands in the air. "No. No. It's nothing like that," he lied. "Absolutely not."

Of course the sheriff might not see it that way. Scratch that. Considering the sheriff was Lucy, there was no "might" about it. He'd arrest Sean without a second's pause. What was Trudy worth? Fifty thousand dollars? Twenty? Ten? He really had no idea. But even if it was two thousand, it was still felony land. And Lucy would be happy to put him there. Sean couldn't believe he was doing this. It went against everything he'd been trained to do. He should take the dog back to Richard. It was a dog, for heaven's sake. Just a dog. All this trouble over an animal. He had to be nuts. And yet...and yet something in his gut wouldn't let him.

"Why don't I believe you?" Ines said.

"It's just an awkward situation."

"How awkward?"