Fat Cat Takes The Cake

Yes, she was making things worse and worse. “It was a long time ago.” She waved her hand, carelessly, she hoped. “You know, a high school crush.”

“Uh huh.” He jotted something down on a yellow pad. “Who else did he tangle with at the reunion?”

“He didn’t ‘tangle with’ Julie. They . . . talked.” And he mashed her face into his for an unwelcome kiss. She realized she was now twisting the strands of her straight brown-blonde hair. She put her hand down again. “He went up to quite a few people. He talked to our old principal, Mr. Snelson. And some other older man who was with Mr. Snelson. They both argued with Ron. And he talked to Monique. Oh yes, Monique threw her punch in his face. I just remembered.”

He was writing as she talked. “Anyone else?”

“Probably, but I’d have to think some more. He left soon after Monique did that. Can I go now?”

He nodded and she fled.

All the way home she worried that she hadn’t mentioned Ron literally stalking Julie in high school. She probably should have. His latest victim seemed to be Monique, though. She had also omitted the kiss Ron forced on Julie. Would their altercation make Julie look more guilty? Or less? If Chase knew, she would know what to say to the police.

A text popped up on her phone as she stopped for a red light. She grabbed her cell and quickly read the message from Julie: “Where are you?” The light changed before she could reply.

Pulling into the parking lot behind her apartment and shop, she saw Julie sitting in her pickup, clouds of vapor streaming out of the tailpipe, glittering in the sunlight, as she ran the engine to keep warm. Julie spotted Chase right away, turned off the engine, and jumped out.

Anna’s car was there, too, beside Julie’s truck.

“Anna’s here? Why aren’t you inside?”

“I just got here. Grandma’s working on her recipe,” Julie said. “I offered to help, but she would rather do it alone. Where have you been?”

“At the police station to give my statement. They got it yesterday, kind of, but I had to sign it today.”

Julie didn’t ask if her name had come up and Chase didn’t mention it.

They headed for the door, chatting about Anna. “She turned in the recipe, right?” Chase said. “What is she working on now?”

“She’s practicing making it, over and over.”

“We’ll have lots of her new bars to sell on Wednesday, I guess, if she’ll let us.”

They both poked their heads into the kitchen to say hi to Anna, inhaled nosefuls of the heavenly blueberry aroma, then ran upstairs for some hot chocolate.

“What was that about the real estate deal?” Chase asked. “What was Ron North talking about?” Should she mention the scarf?

Julie blew on her cocoa. “That’s a bad deal. You know I told you about someone offering Hilda Bjorn way too little for her house? I dropped by this morning to ask her about it. She described the man who came to her door.” Julie shook her head.

“And?”

“Who does this sound like? She said he had a commanding presence and very nice snowy white hair. Like an egret, she said.”

“Principal Snelson? Why would he be trying to make a real estate deal?”

Julie shrugged. “Do you know who that other guy was Saturday night? The short one?”

“Never saw him before. He’s not our age; must be a friend of Snelson’s.”

“Almost forgot.” Julie pulled a small black notebook from her purse as they sat sipping at Chase’s kitchen table. “I have to show you this.”

“What is it?” Chase asked, setting her mug down and taking the notebook from her. The handwriting was small and cramped.

“I found it by the punch bowl Saturday night. Remember? I asked around and no one said it was theirs.”

“Yes, I remember. You waved it around. It was after Ron and some others left.”

They stared at each other, realization dawning.

In unison, they said, “It’s Ron’s!”

SIX

Julie and Chase spent another few minutes going over the happenings at the reunion together. They decided they couldn’t be completely sure it was Ron’s, since so many others were gone when Julie found it. But Chase thought it was very much like the notebook he had whipped out in the Bar None days ago, hoping to interview her. She couldn’t be positive, though. It was nondescript, a small spiral-bound booklet with a black cover.

“Well, we’d better look inside,” Julie said, turning it over and over with her fingertips, like she was reluctant to touch it too much.

“That’s not illegal or anything?”

“How else can we find out who it belongs to?”

Many of the pages were filled with small, barely legible writing. They were, as far as she could tell, notes for stories Ron had been working on. Words that they could read stood out. Amid several references to “school board” were the words “real estate.” Chase found her name with a reminder to the author to get “pix of Bar None” developed. “This has to be Ron’s. This is what he was working on.”

Julie flipped through to the end and was confronted by gibberish.

“Here,” Chase said, turning the book upside down. “He’s started some notes from the back. He’s using the front part for notes on his stories.”