The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery by Leann Sweeney Page B

blurred. Candace would never want to do anything to compromise an investigation. Gosh, I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.
    She said, “Tom still needs to tell us more about—” But she stopped when she saw Tom glance at Finn. “Sorry, I forgot. We can discuss all this later,” she finished.
    Finn said, “Tell you more about what?” He turned to Tom. “What did Nolan do to you, Tom?”
    I said, “I can explain a few things while they’re gone—if it’s okay, Tom?”
    He smiled sadly and my heart ached for all the trouble both Tom and Finn had been through in the last few days. He said, “I’d appreciate it.”
    Liam, Tom and Candace left.
    “Okay, tell me about Tom. Tell me why he never called last night,” Finn said, once the back door closed. He sat back down on the couch and picked up a piece of cold toast, but just stared at it.
    Yoshi pressed close to his side.
    I explained how Tom had to stay at the police station last night, mostly because processing a crime scene doesn’t take an hour like you see on TV. Tom’s car had been involved, not to mention a man he disliked intensely was dead, so naturally they needed his statement. I decided going into the details of what Nolan Roth did to Tom could wait—for now. Between the concussion and being considered a suspect in a murder, Finn had enough to deal with.
    When I was finished explaining, Finn said, “But Tom didn’t do anything wrong. Why keep him at a police station practically all night? That’s not right.”
    Oh, to be eighteen again and think the world should be fair. I said, “This is a small town with very few officers. It just took a long time to find out exactly what happened to Mr. Roth. Deputy Carson wasn’t being intentionally mean to Tom.”
    “I guess that makes sense.” He finally looked at me. “Are you for real?”
    “For real?” I gathered coffee mugs and set them on the breakfast bar.
    “I mean, you act like you believe me when I say I can’t remember how I got hurt, but are you just being nice?”
    “I’ve learned to trust my instincts now that I’m an old lady,” I said with a laugh. “Those instincts tell me you, my friend, wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
    “You’re not an old lady,” he said. “Okay, not that old.”
    I smiled. “I’m old enough to ask for help. Help me with the clean up?”
    Finn gathered mugs and dishes while Yoshi passed out on the throw rug near the utility room. Poor dog had been on high alert for a good long while.
    I noticed Chablis slink into the living room. The kitchen and living room area was the sunniest place in late morning and she wasn’t about to miss a sunbath. She joined Merlot and Syrah on the window seat. So funny to see them banded together. They never hung out so close to one another for nap time. It must be the dog’s presence.
    Finn poured the last of the milk into his glass. Then he sat on the window seat next to the cats and petted each one while he drank. Merlot turned his big body over for a belly rub, a move that practically shoved poor Chablis right off the cushions.
    Meanwhile, I sat at the mosaic-tiled table in the kitchen nook and started a shopping list that included clothes for Finn as well as groceries. I hadn’t planned on restocking the fridge since I was committed to one more craft show this coming Friday. It would only be an overnight trip, but I’d wanted to delay the dreaded grocery shopping until I returned. Not now. I might be able to live on yogurt and toast and frozen meals, but not this kid.
    I’d just finished writing “dog food” when I heard a quick knock at the back door. Before I could even get halfway across the kitchen, my stepdaughter, Kara, walked in and stopped in her tracks when she saw the dog.
    Yoshi came to attention and barked repeatedly. Already playing watch dog, I thought. His barks sent my three cats running for cover.
    “Who’s this?” Kara knelt to greet the dog. Her dark, shoulder-length hair hung loose and she wore