What God and Cats Know, Page 3

  “Reb...” Jess opened her hand, letting the small paper ball fall onto the tabletop. “We can’t change the past.” She took a deep breath, the scar flexing across her skin. “Janey had two children and a husband. They deserve the truth. The cops won’t be able to catch this guy.” Her cheek twitched. “You know that. If they do find anyone it’ll be a scapegoat to close the case and shuffle it off to the filing cabinet. She deserves better than that.”

  I closed my eyes for a long while then opened them. “Five hundred dollars up front for a retainer, fifty bucks an hour plus expenses.” It was double my usual rate.

  “Done,” Dennis replied, almost too quickly.

  “And I get full access to Pride records.” I put my hand up as I saw Davis’s mouth open, ready to object. “I’m not stupid. You’re calling me in ’cause you want someone to chase down this jerk and you don’t want to do it yourself because you might make a mistake and make an even bigger mess.” I glanced around the table. “I’m assuming that while we’ve got ‘friends’ in the cop shop, no one’s willing or able to run this solo. But that’s going to handicap me from the start.” Shaking my head I continued. “If you’re going to get me to do this, you have to give me full access to find out what happened.” Giving the glass one more spin I put it down on the table. “That’s not negotiable.”

  “Agreed.” Jess growled, flicking the paper ball across the table toward me. “But you answer to us, and us only.”

  I picked up the tabloid paper, folding it and placing it under my arm. “I’ll be in touch. Send one-week advance payment. Let’s call it for forty hours for a grand total of twenty-five hundred dollars in my account by the time I get back to my office. I’ll provide receipts for the expenses later. Email me the files if you don’t have them here.” I raised my right brow in a hopeful manner. I had rent due and a car payment this week—and I might even afford food for Jazz and I. And I knew they could afford what I was asking.

  “We’ll get the information to you later on today. And we’ll be waiting for your updates.” Hammersmythe nodded, dismissing me as if I were a child waiting for the principal to let me out of detention. The three of them got up from the table and walked past me in silence. I remained seated, waiting until they had gone downstairs, staring at the ball on the table.

  Reaching over I tossed the paper into the far corner of the Hall, watching it disappear from sight. “Bastards,” I whispered to the empty room.

  Ruth met me in the kitchen while I filled my glass with water. She wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “Those kids. You’d think they were the first ones to ever discover their toes.”

  I smiled back. “Wait until they start chewing on them. As I recall it took me until I was five to let those nails grow to anything respectable.”

  “And you claimed they tasted like sugar.” Ruth laughed, a low rumble that settled in my heart. “You look good. Keeping the weight on, finally. I thought you’d be one of those anorexics by now.” She touched my arm, a wistful look on her face. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

  “And my father’s temper.” I drained the glass, putting it in the sink. “Tell them to remember that.” Turning around I kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you again. Right now I’ve got to get to work.”

  “I’d like that. Seeing you again, I mean.” She squeezed my arm. “Janey was a good woman. She didn’t deserve this.”

  “No one ever does.” I moved to the door. “But that’s the way it happens sometimes, eh?”

  I walked out onto the porch. Karen wasn’t there. She had probably wandered off to avoid another awkward moment. Better for both of us. I really wasn’t in a mood to start rehashing the past and getting back into Pride politics.

  Trotting down the steps I took a deep breath, drawing in the scents and sounds from my past again. In my mind’s eye I sorted and catalogued each, identifying three Felis in the woods just to the north, most likely hunting some wild rabbits. Two more worked one of the fields that provided the farm with an income. With the rise of organic products, the local farmers’ market had become a popular and profitable place for the breads, pies and vegetables the Family churned out—with Ruth’s help, of course. Not that the farm needed the money to survive, the tithing of all Pride members made sure those who lived on the farm had a comfortable life.

  A fat lazy barn cat sprawled across the hood of my jeep, the black fur spread out so long and wide it threatened to cover the red paint completely. I opened the driver’s door.

  “I need to get to work.”

  The cat raised his head and yawned, displaying an impressive set of teeth.

  “Seriously.” I jerked my thumb back behind me at the house. “Don’t want Jess getting mad, now...do we?”

  The black cat leisurely rolled off the jeep’s hood onto the gravel road, stretching out his legs one by one and flexing his toes in the air. Arching his back, he let out another yawn before strutting back toward the barn, tail held high.

  “Snob.” I got in behind the wheel and turned the engine on, tossing the tabloid onto the seat beside me. Turning the car around, I sped back down the dirt road to Toronto and to my real life.

  Chapter 3

  I probably should have stayed and asked for more details on Janey’s life, but I had little faith in the Board’s ability to give me the actual truth despite their sweet words. Better that I find out for myself what exactly made this woman, only a few years older than myself, a target to be murdered and dumped in an alley, grotesquely posed for an exposé photograph. I still wasn’t convinced the person who took the picture was involved with the crime but it was as good a place to start, as any—and it’d alleviate the Board’s rampant paranoia. Heck, they’d been watching me for years to make sure I kept their precious secret safe and I knew they knew I knew they were watching.

  The cellphone threw up full bars as I pulled over to the side of the road, out of sight of the Farm. I wasn’t fool enough to think I could drive and rant at the same time.

  “Attersley.” My contact’s gruff voice sounded like he was situated in a deep, dark hole, which he probably was, given it was Station 14.

  “Hey, Hank—it’s Reb.” I checked my rear-view mirror out of habit. The road was clear.

  “Don’t tell me you want another loan. I can’t afford to support two ex-wives and you.”

  “But I’m so much more fun.” Picking up the tabloid rag, I flipped back to the page. “Besides, who else is going to put up with your crap? Not to mention that I wouldn’t invite you into my bed on a dare.”

  “If that’s your way of sweet-talking me, you need some work.” A rolling belly laugh sounded across the airwaves. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “Murder case. Janey Winters. Murdered and left in an alleyway near Queen and Spadina two days ago.” I squinted at the grainy photo. “Got a photo in the Inquisitor, of all places. Family wants me to check it out.” It wasn’t a total lie. No matter where you were and what you did, the Pride considered you family.

  “Hmm.” The sound of scratching and banging signalled a search of his desk, with rapid tapping on a keyboard. “Case’s not mine. It’s down with Martin Huffington.” A minute’s pause. “They’re set to mark it down as cold, no real leads at this point. No witnesses, no obvious enemies. Sorry to say, but it looks like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coroner says she was strangled by someone with a darned good grip. Bruises are full and nasty-looking. She put up one hell of a fight, got a few scratches and a bloody nose out of the scrum, but not enough to fight him off. I’m thinking druggie, personally. And what’s with the fur?”

  Tucking the phone against my shoulder I stared at the paper. “Ah, costume party stuff, I think. Family’s not as worried about that as they are about the publicity. Don’t want to be remembered as some sort of freak. You know how that goes. Have your boys already been out to interview the family?”

  “The detectives have already been there. Don’t feel that you’ve got to h
old back for fear of my boys racing in and jacking you for information.” He lowered his voice. “Looks like just another crack-head jumping the girl for her purse, if you ask me. She fights back, he freaks and kills her.”

  “Possible. But the photo’s the problem. Family’s worried that the photographer’s got more shots and is going to spread this crap around. Embarrassing and all that. Not to mention having one of these guys prowling around active crime scenes is not good business.” I glanced at my rear-view mirror again. A dust storm had suddenly appeared.

  “The reporter’s not going to give up his sources. Even the Inquisitor’s got some morals.” The last few words were said in a choking laugh. “But I can tell you that he’s no murderer. Name of that guy’s Brandon Hanover. Used to be a good fellow years ago and now he’s printing trash like that. Huffington’s pissed that it looks bad for the police but what can you do? It happens all the time, fellows looking to make an extra buck and when they come across something different, they sell it to the press.” I could almost hear him shrug. “It’s the way of the world these days. With cellphones and everything but your underwear able to take pictures I’m surprised more crap doesn’t get online that shouldn’t be.”

  “Thanks, Hank. I’ll drop you a check in the morning.” The dust cloud resolved itself into a small car speeding toward me. Without waiting for a response I flipped the phone off, tucking it back into my pocket.

  The dark blue Ford Taurus slid in behind me, the engine dying away in a shudder and snort. Stepping out, I stared at the driver with my hands in my pockets.

  Jess’s long, lanky body uncurled from the seat like one of those clowns from the wee little clown car. Rubbing the back of her neck, she strode toward me with a sheepish grin on her face.

  “Didn’t mean for you to run off so quickly.” She leant on the hood of her car, arms crossed. “Figured I’d catch you chatting to Ruth or snatching one of her pies.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t think I was welcome for lunch. Or dinner.” Slamming my door shut, I moved around to lean on the back of my car, facing her. “So, what brings you out to talk to me outside of the Board?”

  One finger moved up to trace the scar on her face. She had never mentioned plastic surgery and no one had dared to bring it up. “Dennis didn’t want to call you in. David had a fit.”

  “And yet you did.” Spreading my hands, I shrugged. “However, I do have a phone. Could have just called. I have an answering machine.”

  “You’d have hung up. Or deleted the message.” Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she scuffed the dirt with a dark-brown cowboy boot. “We know you too well. You wouldn’t have come out here on a dare.”

  “So you send up the freaking Pride Signal?” I pointed at the sky. “Get a searchlight next time and toss up a cat’s head or something. It’s going to take days to get that aroma out of my office.” I wrinkled my nose at the scent memory.

  “We wanted to make sure you’d come.” She bounced the hood of her car, stressing the thin metal. “Brought you the records on the Winters family.”

  “I was going to wait a day or so and see if they showed up before I made a fuss.” I didn’t move. “Figured you’d want time to black out what you didn’t want me to see.”

  Jess stood, shaking her head. “Reb, it’s not all about you. Not this time.” She looked out at the farmlands around us, over my head. “I thought you figured that one out.”

  We stood there quietly for a second, old memories running around us. When I had arrived in Toronto almost two decades ago, I had been terrified by the closed spaces, the small rooms and the narrow roads keeping me away from the wide-open sky and the fields I had grown up in. My legs tensed, daring me to whip off my running shoes and sprint along the road with bare feet as I had done for the first few years of my life. Damn, I’d missed being out here. Then a shiver of pain ran along my right shoulder blade and I remembered why I wasn’t out here anymore.

  “Point taken.” Walking past her, I opened the back door and plucked the large brown envelope off of the seat. “Thanks.”

  “We think it was an inside job.” She didn’t move when I sat on the hood beside her.

  “I thought we had resolved that already.” I didn’t open the envelope. “Family.”

  “No, a real inside job.” She tapped the edge of her nose, a serious look on her face. “I’m thinking Dennis, to be truthful.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck began to curl up. “You think a Board member killed her?” My fingers tightened on the envelope, good thing too, otherwise I would have been gouging my palm with my fingernails. “What the hell has been going on since I left? First you’ve got blood killing blood and now you’re saying it’s Dennis?”

  “Things have changed, kit.” I clenched my jaw in automatic response to the gentle admonishment. “You never got into the internal politics and all that. It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s a fact of life.”

  “For you.” I bounced off the hood and walked back to my car. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to find out how much fun backbiting could be among family.” Opening my car door I tossed the envelope inside. “Just out of curiosity, why Dennis?”

  Jess smiled. “He likes them young. He divorced Cindy a few months ago, and...” She gave a shrug, a sheepish grin on her face. “Men. They’re all animals.”

  Rolling my eyes, I got inside the car. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks.” The last word grated against my teeth, but it was only good manners. My mother had always insisted on good manners.

  Jess remained where she was as I pulled out, growing smaller and finally disappearing from my rear-view mirror as I headed back to the highway. The traffic was light, the afternoon commute from Barrie back into the downtown chaos of Toronto just beginning.

  I pulled off at the first opportunity to get a fresh cup of coffee. The shot of booze hadn’t given me a slight buzz, but it had been stupid of me to take it in the first place. I didn’t need to get into an accident or worse in my current state. Between the alcohol and my grinding my teeth in anger I needed a chance to get down before something happened.

  The Tim Horton’s employee smiled when she passed me another double-double and a small box of Timbits. Sitting down at a table far enough from the counter as not to draw attention to myself but close enough to keep an eye on my Jeep, I opened the sealed envelope.

  Janey Winters had only been a few years older than me, but she had taken quite a different path. She had married Mike Winters when she was twenty, approved by the Board without any concerns. They were both good kids from good family and weren’t related in any way.

  The Pride kept genealogy records that would make the Mormons blush. Every birth, every death was recorded and each branch of the family tree dissected and analysed to make sure there was no way there would be any sort of genetic damage to new members. Still, there were always those who found true love outside of the group. For them, the rules were strict.

  Secrecy was mandatory. You couldn’t tell your new husband or wife about your family history, nothing beyond having a few genetic throwbacks to explain the extra tuft of hair here and there. That’s all. Nothing about the kittens, nothing about the Changing, nothing at all, which would be a bit easier since there would be no children. We couldn’t breed outside of our own. For some it was a heavy price to pay for true love but they went and did it anyway.

  The chocolate mouthful was chewy and covered with plenty of glaze, perfect. Flipping the page I read on, eyeing the cinnamon dough ball next.

  She had gone on to earn a Bachelor and a Master’s in English, obtaining her teaching certificate and a nice little job teaching English and working in downtown Toronto at the Upper St Clair Girls Academy. A private school, it was the favourite of Pride women and an automatic guarantee of acceptance into whatever field you wanted to go into. Naturally she excelled at her job helping train the next generation of sweet businesswomen looking to take the world by storm.

  Her husband had managed to wrangle a good living
out of managing a corner grocery store, the type that charges you double for milk and triple for bread at midnight on the weekends. No franchise, but I knew there was Pride money behind it. They kept their fingers in everything you did, said and owned.

  Which led to the children, Michael and Fiona, both teenagers doing well in school. Perfect children, perfect little life with a townhouse in Cabbagetown and a good time for all involved. Except now the kids were without a mother and a husband without his wife.

  I went for a plain glazed instead and washed it down with another sweet mouthful of coffee. The Pride had no reason to be pissed off at the Winters. There were no red flags about their activities or that of their kids—both were registered as full Pride members, meaning they were able to manifest the same abilities as the others and were able to keep the family secrets.

  Whoever had trapped Janey in an alleyway and killed her was good, good enough to kill her, a Felis in her prime without any physical ailments or problems. And, bad enough to try to expose her as a freak to the public. That wasn’t someone who was just ticked off at their daughter getting a low mark or something. That was a diabolical act.

  The coffee had grown cold. The box was empty, chipped pieces of lonely glaze scattered around the bottom. I flipped the pages back and forth to see if I had missed anything.

  The police had called Mike. He had called Jess. Jess had called the Board together to manage the emergency. Dennis told Mike he would be taken care of with the kids. It was more symbolic than anything else. They would be fine financially. Mentally, there wasn’t much that could be offered other than sympathy. And the promise that Janey’s killer would be brought to justice.

  This would not necessarily be in a court of law, which is where I came in.

  Draining the cardboard cup of every last drop, I picked up my cell and dialled Mike Winters’s home phone. A young girl answered the phone, her whiny nasal tone signalling I had called at an inopportune time.