I felt safe enough now to get out of the Taurus and was glad I’d again worn a sweatshirt. I shivered in this dead-of-night chill.
Candace tossed me the house key. “Wake up Robin so she can meet her trespasser. But be as quiet as you can. Jack doesn’t need to be a part of this.”
Turned out I didn’t have to wake Robin. She met me at the back door and said, “I heard voices. What happened?”
“Do you have a back-porch light?” I asked.
She flicked two switches by the door, and suddenly the Taurus and the dirt driveway were illuminated. And so were Candace and the professor. Candace’s prisoner, I saw, was in handcuffs.
The man’s head was down, and the black knit hat he’d been wearing was gone, revealing a mop of chin-length salt-and-pepper hair.
“Here’s your thief, Robin,” Candace said. “This time he decided not to steal the cow. Easier to steal the milk, I guess. Reminds me of a very bad joke.”
Robin marched up to the man. “Look at me.”
He slowly raised his head, and their eyes met.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he managed.
“You frightened me to death. Just who are you?” Robin asked.
“This is Professor Hubert VanKleet,” Candace said.
“Teaches biology at Denman College. Isn’t that what you told me when we met at Belle’s Beans?”
He cast his gaze downward again. “Th-that would be correct.”
Robin bent and tilted her head so she could see his face again. Her tone was gentle when she said, “I would have given you milk if you’d asked. Why go to all this trouble?”
“You would have?” With his raised eyebrows and wide eyes, he seemed genuinely surprised.
Candace said, “That’s the way we do things here in Mercy. Folks need something, all they have to do is ask. Guess you haven’t lived here long enough to figure that out.”
“What do you need the milk for?” Robin said. “Do you have children?”
“In a way,” he said. “It’s for my pets. I l- lost my own cow last week. She was old and she died. The cats need f-food, and I’m rather short on c-cash since taking a sabbatical from my job.”
Exactly how many cats did this man have? I wondered.
“A sabbatical means you’re not working, Professor. I didn’t know that.” Candace had backed off with the stern tone. Concern seemed to have taken over. She turned to Robin. “Do you have any No Trespassing signs posted?”
“No. I didn’t think I needed them,” she said.
“Only reason I ask,” Candace said, “is that I can only arrest the professor for trespassing if you’ve got a sign posted. Course, now that he’s been warned he will go to jail if there’s a next time. Unless you want me to charge him for destroying your padlock.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, not feeling as nice as a Mercy- ite should. “What about stealing Harriett? Isn’t that a crime?” For some reason I didn’t feel a great deal of sympathy for this man, maybe because I was concerned about cats drinking only cow’s milk. That wouldn’t be good for them at all. Didn’t this obviously intelligent person know that most adult cats are lactose intolerant? Or maybe he was simply desperate for anything to fill their tummies.
“Did you steal that cow, Professor?” Candace said.
“I-I borrowed her; that’s all.” Something in his tone, or perhaps it was the way he averted his eyes, told me this wasn’t the whole story. And if he’d had an old cow, he wouldn’t have been getting any milk from that source. This wasn’t adding up.
Meanwhile, Lucy had taken a devoted interest in the professor’s pant legs, sniffing them from calf to ankle.
“You want to press charges about the cow, Robin?” Candace asked. She seemed tired, perhaps deflated by her cow thief turning out to be a nerdy man with dark shadows under his eyes and a defeated stoop to his shoulders.
Robin again addressed Professor VanKleet. “You won’t do this again, will you?”
His small, hazel eyes livened with hope. “N-no. I promise. P-please let me go. I have cats to care for. They need me.”
Okay, he finally had me feeling sympathetic, too.
“Don’t set foot on my property without an invite. Are we clear?” Robin said.
“R-right. I promise.”
Seconds later, he was free of the handcuffs, and Candace again warned him that the next time he came near Robin’s barn it would result in a stint in the town jail. “I can’t hold you for anything tonight since Robin is being generous, but I hope you understand the trespassing laws now, Professor.”
He ignored Candace and said, “Th-thank you so much, Ms. West. Th-thank you.” VanKleet turned and started off down the road, his body no longer hunched over in shame or remorse or whatever emotion had a hold on him earlier. He’d been acting, I decided. He wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“Wait a minute,” I called. “How did you know her name?”
He swiveled back around-quite spritely, I might add-and offered a lopsided grin. “It’s on the mailbox.”
No stutter, a spring in his step. And as he walked away, I felt a small chill race up both arms. Cat owner or not, I didn’t like the guy-not one bit.
My daytime sleep on Friday was cut short by cell-phone noise. I’d set my phone to vibrate, but apparently it pulsated enough to fall off the nightstand and clunk onto the hardwood floor. This woke Syrah, too, and he bounced onto my stomach before heading for the floor to attack it in case it was a living creature. Still groggy, I leaned over the side of the bed and watched through sleepy eyes as he pawed at the phone. Then I spoiled his fun and picked it up.
Shawn interrupted my “hello” with “I’m sorry, but I really could use your help again.” He was speaking in a rushed whisper.
I sat up and blinked several times. Chablis stood and stretched, her lovely afternoon sleep ended. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Allison can’t get back from Clemson until after supper. Some group project. And I’ve got this woman here, and she will not leave me alone. Allison would take care of this problem in a flash, but I got to thinking you could do just as well.”
That was kind of a backhanded compliment, I thought, but instead said, “What woman? Has Lydia the stalker set her sights on you now?” Lydia Monk, the deputy county coroner, was obsessed with a good friend of mine, Tom Stewart. I’d met Tom when he installed the security system and set up my wonderful cat cam. But I knew Tom didn’t think much of Lydia, so maybe she’d turned her sights on Shawn, married or not.
“No, not that nutcase Lydia. Can you come to the shelter? You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Do I have time to pick up coffee at Belle’s Beans?” I wouldn’t be functional without some java.
“No. I’ll make some.” He hung up.
Shawn may not have the best social skills with people, but his heart is pure gold. If he needed help from me, then help he would get.
Sans even lipstick, I arrived at the Mercy Animal Sanctuary in less than thirty minutes. My hair was still wet from the quick shower that had helped clear the cobwebs.
I smelled the coffee before I even got to the office door. Strong coffee. Guess that’s what I needed, but I had a feeling it might resemble sludge if Shawn had made it.
When I entered the office, I saw Shawn looking less than genial, seated behind his small desk. A woman I did not recognize was parked in the lawn chair across from him. She was about my age, maybe mid-forties, with sandy hair and dark brown eyes. I noticed her muddy plaid boots, similar to what Robin had been wearing yesterday. Was it yesterday or the day before? I’d lost track of what day it was after these night shifts.
Shawn stood when I came in. “Thanks for coming, Jillian. I might have to cut you a paycheck. This here is Ruth Schultz.” He came around the desk and quickly poured me a mug of coffee.
I smiled at Ruth and then took a swig of the worst lukewarm liquid I’d ever tasted. But I needed caffeine so desperately, I drank half before setting down the mug on Shawn’s desk. I held out my hand to Ruth. “Jillian Hart.”