Fat Cat Takes The Cake

“I’d better go right now and see what they have. I don’t want anything too bright.”

Yes, Anna preferred muted pastels for everything to do with her wedding. Except the bridesmaid bouquets. Those were lime green. She wished the dresses would arrive and she could make sure they would be all right. If they never came, Anna would whip out her sewing machine and make them, and she didn’t need to be doing that right now.

She hadn’t seen Anna’s dress. No one had. Anna was keeping it a secret from everyone, including her groom-to-be, Bill.

Anna finished her soup and whisked her bowl to the sink. “I’ll check on you later tonight.”

Probably to make sure I haven’t gone to the police, Chase thought. But the wedding was a week from yesterday and the dresses weren’t here yet. That was something she should work on. She called Julie.

“Have you heard anything about our dresses?”

“For the wedding? No. I’ve had my mind on a couple of other things. Can you check? I’m still at work. Gotta go.”

Chase dragged herself downstairs to the computer to look up the order. Anna had assured them she would be able to do any alterations they might need. Better than actually making them, but was that fair? Having the bride alter her own bridesmaids’ dresses? Fair or not, Anna wouldn’t hear of letting anyone else touch them.

There was a customer service phone number listed on the website, but when she called it, a message said they had hours of eight to five Eastern time. It was five thirty and Central time, besides.

She sent an e-mail inquiring about the delivery date. There were no tracking numbers to trace where they were. She was getting a sinking feeling about the dresses. At least she and Julie had shoes. She’d been surprised when Julie told her she had bought Chase’s for her and, amazingly enough, they fit perfectly. Better than any she had tried on. Julie knew her shoes. The dresses wouldn’t have to match them since Julie had chosen a contrasting shade of dark blue. That and the bouquets were the exceptions to the “all pastel” rule Anna had laid down.

She trudged upstairs, probably puzzling Quincy, who wasn’t used to going up so soon after he had come down. The soup sitting in her bowl on her kitchen table had cooled, but there was plenty left in the pan on the stove. She poured in the cold soup and heated it up. When it was warm, she ate it all, then fell asleep again on the couch.

When she awoke in the morning, she had a vague recollection of moving to her bed in the night. As her eyes opened, Quincy stood up and started complaining. Oops! She hadn’t fed him his nighttime din dins. It was a wonder he hadn’t awakened her during the wee hours. Maybe he’d tried but she had slept soundly.

After she hurried to the kitchen and fixed his morning meal, she stretched, realizing she felt good. That soup had revitalized her and finally knocked out the cold.

Then she realized it was Thursday! Julie’s hearing was tomorrow! She had to draw attention to Monique Byrd today. She watched Quincy eat, puzzling out what to do. Monique didn’t have a place of business, except maybe the vacant storefront she and Dickie rented for his campaign headquarters. It was doubtful his campaign would continue, now that they had split. Monique might or might not be home, but Chase didn’t want to call to find out. Wherever she accosted the woman, she wanted to take her by surprise. Ideally, Monique’s car would be somewhere close and Chase would find an excuse to look into the trunk.

That’s as far as her thinking had gone. How on earth could she come up with an excuse to at least peek into the trunk? Monique wouldn’t let her, of course, because Ron North’s blood would be there, but she wanted to hear her refuse to open it. That, to Chase, would be an indictment. More like a verdict.

She called Julie. “Do you have a sec?”

“I’m due for a short break in ten. I’ll call you back.”

When Julie called, Chase had eaten and was ready to lay out her latest conclusion. “Help me think of an excuse to look into Monique Byrd’s trunk.”

“Um, her car trunk?”

“Yep.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“To see if she’ll refuse to let me.”

“I’m sorry, girlfriend. You’ve totally lost me.”

She was making it a habit to lose people lately. First Anna, now Julie. “I’m pretty sure she killed Ron North and that means there’s blood in her trunk. So if she won’t let me look at it, that means she killed him. His body was transported, right? It had to be in a trunk, right?”

“Some of what you said is logical, but what’s that first part again? Why do you know she killed him?”

“She’s the only suspect left who wanted to and doesn’t have an alibi.”

“Chase, I can’t see her lifting a man’s body into her trunk. She couldn’t weigh more than one-twenty. Besides, he was strangled. How much blood would there be?”

“Okay, DNA. His DNA has to be there.”

“She’s not going to be afraid you’ll find DNA with your naked eye.”