Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Fortunately for him, he listens.
And fortunately for me, the gate is unlocked.
I step inside the small, garden area and notice the sign by the door, which explains the easy access. Cathy Does Stuff. Cathy is who I’m looking for, and considering why I’m here, I wonder what kind of stuff she does exactly. I ring the bell. When there’s no answer, I try again. “Coming!” I hear a youngish voice that doesn’t fit the old lady I’m expecting at all.
The door swings open and a pretty blonde stands in front of me. Her black trench coat and Burberry scarf tell me either she’s just arrived or she’s on her way out. “Cathy?”
She looks me up and down and then says, “Who’s asking?”
I flash my badge. “Agent Lilah Love.”
I stick with the “Love” for this one. It sounds like a name an old lady will like. “Is there a problem?” she asks.
“Are you Cathy?” I press, when of course, I know she is not, at least not the Cathy I’m after.
“No,” she says. “I’m Jennifer, her daughter. She’s in the back, on the phone. What is this about?”
“I’d rather talk to her. Can I come in?”
“She’s seventy-six. You know that, right?”
“Is she incapable of conversation based on her age?”
“Jennifer? Who’s there?”
The voice is older, grave, and curious. It’s an old lady's voice.
Jennifer grimaces as if her mother has torn up her “get out of jail free” card. She backs up to allow her mother to step into view. And just as Rollins stated, she’s the whole grandma package. Her loafers are sensible, her pants polyester, and her hair is as silver as Christmas tinsel. She’s also thin, fit, and far from a frail old lady.
“Hello, honey,” she greets sweetly. “Did you have a job for me?”
I flash my badge. Her eyes go wide.
“What kind of ‘stuff’ do you do, Cathy?”
A baffled look slides over her face. “Mostly sewing but I do random jobs, like put up a Christmas tree or take them down. What on earth would have you interested in my work?”
“Can I come in?”
“Well, of course.” She backs up and then glances at her daughter. “Don’t you have a date to get to?”
“Yes,” Jennifer confirms, “but I can stay.”
“It’s fine, honey,” Cathy tells her. “I’ve done nothing wrong. If the agent here has a question for me, it’s likely about a client. I’ll fill you in later.”
Jennifer hesitates. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Cathy says firmly.
I’m not as sure, I think. I turn my attention to Jennifer. “Are you involved in your mother’s business?”
Cathy bristles. “Of course not. She’s a Harvard graduate family lawyer who makes her mama proud. She’s going on a date with a doctor.”
A doctor.
That has my attention.
“It’s a blind date, Mom,” Jennifer reminds Cathy, “which I was pressured into accepting by my boss. It’s no recipe for romance.”
I decide I want the mother to myself. For now. I’m going to check out Jennifer and then chat with her later if necessary. And her doctor date.
“It could be a romance meant to be,” Cathy assures her, but then waves her off. “Go. Go now, before you make a bad impression.”
Jennifer hugs her mother and then turns to me. “My mother can give you my number in case you need me. I’m worried about whatever this is. My mother lives alone. Can you please let me know if I should have her stay with me?”
“I’ll let you know if I need to stay with you,” Cathy assures her. “Now go.”
Jennifer hesitates again but finally departs.
Once the door shuts behind her, Cathy says, “Agent Love, would you like some coffee? I just put on a fresh batch of this glorious chocolate peanut butter blend.”
“You had me at coffee but add the chocolate and peanut butter, and I’m all yours.”
She grins and motions for me to follow her.
And Jay thinks I’m scary.
I glance around me, noting the high-end texturized walls and the glitz of the overhead chandelier. The hardwoods are glossy and freshly done as well. Business must be good.
Cathy peeks back around a corner and motions me onward. “This way.”
And here we go. Into the den of the old lady.
Is there a serial killer old lady?
Chapter Thirty-Four
I should say pleasant, old lady, serial killer.
Because Cathy is a pleasant person and I don’t find a lot of people pleasing, not the least bit flustered by my badge or my lingering behind a bit. In my experience, that means either the person has nothing to hide or they are so broken, their emotional chip doesn’t work quite right.
Considering all, Cathy’s mental condition is to be determined.
I end up at a fancy grey table with a wood finish and expensive chairs. I claim one and wait on her, wondering if there is a serial killer who kills with chocolate peanut butter coffee, because he was likely the most successful of them all.