Fat Cat Takes The Cake

Hilda Bjorn had nearly been killed because she knew too much when Gabe Naughtly, who lived across the street from the elderly woman, was murdered. In the course of things, she became a fan of the Bar None. Her neighbor, a university professor, looked after the old woman. Ms. Bjorn also seemed to look after him, since he was quite absentminded.

“Andy Fear called our office and asked for some advice. Since I’m the new gal, they gave him to me. Translation: This is a low-paying job.”

“I wouldn’t think he would have a lot of extra money for lawyers.”

“He doesn’t. I got permission to make this a pro bono case, especially after I delved into it.”

“Now you have me curious.” She braked for a red light. Red-and-green blinking lights from a nearby shop window blended in the wet reflection of the stoplight and taillights ahead of her. The wipers were only on medium speed, but she was considering turning them to high. The pattering raindrops were becoming more insistent.

“He wants me to go over an offer that Ms. Bjorn got for her house.”

“She’s selling her house?” Chase was surprised at that. The light changed and she started up.

“No, she’s not. That’s what he found odd. She got the offer out of the blue from someone who came to her door.”

Chase frowned as she turned the wipers to high. “You brought an umbrella, I hope,” she said to Julie. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing yet. I’m going over to talk to her tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll tell her not to take the offer. Professor Fear said the amount was ridiculously low. It sounded high to Ms. Bjorn because she bought her house so long ago and the offer is much more than she paid.”

After their dash through the rain, they arrived at the gym laughing. Jay Wright was waiting at the door for Julie. Chase made a beeline for the punch bowl. She would have to have a drink early so it would be out of her system by the time she had to drive home through the deluge.

Bart Fender stood at the punch bowl like he was guarding it and the delicious-looking cake beside the other goodies.

“Is it any good?” she asked the former star wrestler for Hammond High. She remembered he was a strong-looking guy back then, but his muscles were almost terrifying now.

His smile came across as strained. Maybe because of the acne damage to his face. “It’s all right. I’ve got a little something extra if you’d like to add it.”

“No thanks. This will be fine.” She dipped herself a punch cup of the red liquid and sipped. Sweet and gooey, with a tiny hint of rum. She wished she had been on the punch committee for this gala. Then they would have had decent punch. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about driving after drinking this.

“Do you think our boy has a chance this time?” she asked Bart, staring up at the “Vote for Rich Byrd” banners strung from the ceiling.

He turned his head and raised his eyes to them, displaying a shiny dome. “You got me.” He had had nice hair when he was younger, she remembered. Bart Fender had been a local hero, winning the state wrestling championship for Hammond both his junior and senior years.

“There you are.” Julie and Jay came to the table for some punch.

“How is it?” Jay asked.

Chase stuck her tongue out and pointed her finger to it, the universal symbol for “so awful it gags me.”

“Oh well,” Julie said. “It’s wet.”

A trio of men approached Jay. “We need an impartial judge to settle a bet. How much do you know about football?”

Julie groaned. “He knows just about everything.”

“Come over here, then. It won’t take but a minute.”

“Be right back,” Jay said, and left with them.

Bart had left, too, so Chase was alone for a moment with Julie.

They both noticed that Dickie Byrd’s voice was rising above the moderate din.

“I’d say the guest of honor is enjoying his party,” Julie said.

“Getting a little tipsy,” Chase agreed. “He sure isn’t getting looped on this insipid, sweet punch. It tastes like that fake strawberry flavoring that Anna tried out once. Awful stuff.”

“Look at Monique. I would say she’s not pleased, wouldn’t you?”

Chase saw her, a few feet away from the circle around her husband. She yanked at her hair, which prompted Chase to remember how she used to pull it out when she was stressed in high school.

“Oops. I’d say the campaign manager is upset.”

“Oh no,” Julie said softly. “Save me.”

“Julie, where have you been? I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to show up.” It was Ron North, who, Chase thought, must have been adding his own juice to the punch, too. He lurched toward them, leering at Julie and breathing out the mixed aromas of peanuts and whiskey.

Chase felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise.

“I heard you were part’a that real estate scam. True?”

“What are you talking about?” Julie inched away from Ron. Chase heard her breath quicken.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “The lowball offers. I know you’re involved.”

Julie gave an exasperated puff, backed up some more, and sipped her punch.