about it. As long as you get your Fancy Feast, you should be happy for me. Someone would think you’re getting jealous of Detective Wheeler, Andy, and you wouldn’t want that.”
AngelPie walked along her shelf and mewed.
“Thank you, AngelPie,” Vanessa exclaimed. “I’m glad someone around here agrees with me. He’s the nicest man I’ve met in a long time, and he’s been so helpful ever since Alfred wound up dead. We should all be grateful we have such a nice detective in our town.”
Teddy turned away and slipped back underneath the counter. Flossy stood up from her place on the glassware table. Her tail touched a vase, and it tinkled against a set of whiskey glasses. She let out a loud meow.
“I know, I know,” Vanessa moaned. “All you care about is lunch.” She started for the back of the Shop. In a cupboard between the books and the bike parts, she found several tins of canned cat food and a can opener. She started to open them and empty them into a row of ceramic dishes in the corner.
The instant the can opener touched the first can, cats appeared from the woodwork and clustered around her feet. They rubbed their sleek bodies against her legs and sang. “I’m coming. I’m coming. I can only open them so fast.”
One after another, the cats buried their heads in their bowls and ate the food she put out for them. Only after she finished filling the last bowl did another head pop up from a cardboard box in the book section. Henry surveyed the other cats, but made no attempt to get into line at the feed trough.
Vanessa finished washing the cans in the sink. Then she leaned against the bookshelf and stroked Henry. “There’s just one thing that puzzles me. Why haven’t the police been able to track Alfred’s dealings before now? Everyone in Caspar Crossing knows about Alfred. How can the common people know something the police don’t know? Then again, I guess word gets around. People find out who’s gambling and who’s in debt, but they don’t tell the police. If Alfred never got arrested, the police wouldn’t have anything to go on.”
Henry blinked and licked his paw.
Vanessa gasped. Her hand flew to her heart. “Why, Henry! I didn’t even think of that! I should have known you’d solve this mystery. It’s so simple. We all assume Alfred conducted his nefarious dealings in cash, but what was he doing in the bank? He must have had legitimate bank records for his barbershop. The police must be able to subpoena those records. Maybe they’ll reveal something that gives a clue to his murder.”
Henry got up and stretched. He arched his back and strutted to the edge of the table. He balanced on the spines of the books and looked down at the cats below him with their heads still stuck in their dishes.
“You’re right,” Vanessa told him. “It’s so easy to think Alfred met a violent end as a result of his criminal activities. He could have crossed someone in his ordinary life that led to the same conclusion. He could have cheated on his wife, or made a mistake cutting someone’s hair, or...or just about anything. The evidence could be right there in plain view.”
The cats started to drift away from their dishes until only a handful remained. Henry jumped down to the floor and meandered over the row of vacant dishes. He sniffed at the few with food still in them, but he didn’t eat them. He waited.
Vanessa stroked her chin and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve just been thinking about our suspects. I wonder if Ollie ever did work for Alfred. He had a bathroom in the back of the barbershop. He must have had some call to employ a plumber in all the years he worked there. And then there’s his home. There probably isn’t a single house in this town that hasn’t seen Ollie Fleetwood some time or other.”
Henry sat down next to the very last dish in the line and regarded Vanessa. She paid no attention to him.
“And then there’s Walter,” she went on. “You don’t have to
Heidi Hunter, Bad Boy Team