Cat Playing Cupid by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Page B

her fiancé? What was his name? Chappell? Some people said he got cold feet, bailed out because he really didn’t want to get married.”
    Mike nodded. “Carson Chappell. Lindsey came to Dallas because of an article in the paper, the skeleton of a hiker found up in Oregon. Apparently died about the time Chappell disappeared.” Mike stepped to the bookcase to stroke Joe, wanting to know the tomcat he’d be caring for. “Not likely it’s Chappell, but Lindsey’s fixed on the idea.”
    â€œI heard Lindsey moved back,” Clyde said, “moved her accounting practice up here. I’ve seen her sister around the village lately, too. That should be interesting, the two of them in the same small town again; I think they were both dating Chappell, and Lindsey was pretty angry about it.”
    Mike smiled. “I guess there’s no love lost.” He stroked Joe for a few moments, studying the tomcat a bit too keenly, then turned away and stretched out in a leather chair, eyeing Joe’s clawed and furry easy chair with such obvious amusement that Joe bristled.
    What’s wrong with that chair? That chair is a masterpiece of feline creativity, it’s a rare art form. Some people have no taste.
    Clyde was saying, “Lindsey told me once that she and Ryder have been crosswise since they were kids. I guess, when Chappell started seeing Ryder on the sly, that didn’t go down too well. Then Chappell and Lindsey announced their engagement, and then Chappell disappeared. About the same time, his partner’s wife moved away, and of course village gossip had it that Nina Gibbs and Chappell ran off together.”
    â€œIt isn’t rumor,” Mike said, “that after Lindsey moved back to L.A., her sister showed up with Ray Gibbs, Chappell’s partner. He and Ryder are still together, they have a place in the city, and they’re buying a condo in the village.”
    â€œYou’ve been busy,” Ryan said. “And Gibbs never found his wife? Never heard from her?”
    â€œNot that anyone knows,” Mike said. “I haven’t talked with Gibbs yet.”
    Above, on the bookcase, Joe Grey might have addedhis own take to the scenario. His thoughts might be off the wall, but he couldn’t leave it alone. That hiker up in Oregon died some ten years ago. And what about the skeleton Willow had found among the Pamillon ruins? How old was that body? Two unidentified skeletons, discovered within the same week. Nothing at all to indicate a connection. And yet…
    The tomcat didn’t believe in coincidence. Too often, in the world of criminal investigation, if one looked deeply enough one would come up with some oblique and overlooked relationship between seemingly unconnected incidents. While the assumption didn’t hold true in every case, the general concept had served Joe well.
    This time, am I way off base? When Dallas and Harper get a look at that body in the ruins—as soon as we set them up to find it without involving the secret snitches—and when the coroner establishes a time of death on it, what will we have then?
    Only forensics could date the Pamillon body. And first, the law had to find it among those isolated ruins where no one ever went, not picnickers, not even many lovers wanting privacy, the Pamillon ruins being too eerie for most lovers.
    In short, it wasn’t likely anyone was going to accidentally stumble on that lost grave, not without help. And, for sure, the report daren’t come from the cops’ favorite but unidentified snitch.
    The cops get a tip that something’s dug up a body there—and how else would it get uncovered? And they wonder about the feral cats around the ruins. He could just hear Dallas: “Something dug it up. And there are cats all over that oldestate. Would a band of cats dig up a body? But even if they did, who the hell found it? Who was up there to call in the report? That