Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) by Janet Cantrell Page A

There was, she was sure, a big smile in her voice. “This is Chase.” She drew her name out. She realized she was flirting. With a policeman! What had gotten into her?
    “We have a match on the prints.”
    “The prints?” She kicked the door shut and set Quincy on the floor. “Fingerprints?”
    “Yes, yours match the ones on the murder weapon.”
    “Well, yes, I told you I touched it.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a package of cheese. Quincy displayed mild, dignified interest.
    “They’re the only ones.”
    She froze with the refrigerator door open. The cat moved closer and put his front paws on the bottom shelf.
    “Miss Oliver? Are you there?”
    “Yes. What are you saying?” She returned the cheese to the refrigerator drawer, shooed Quincy out, and closed the door with a whomp of the gasket. Some of the air seemed to go out of the apartment, making it hard to breathe. Quincy stalked off as if he had never displayed any interest in the refrigerator.
    “I’m saying you’d better not leave town any time soon. If you must, please clear it with me first.”
    “Oh.” She clicked the phone off. Not leave town? The only fingerprints on the weapon? She was a
suspect
?
    Chase sat in her stuffed chair and hyperventilated. Quincy seemed to sense her real distress and climbed into her lap, purring loudly. She stroked his silky back absently.
    After what may have been minutes and may have been an hour, it registered that Quincy felt heavier than ever.
    Chase needed to talk to someone. Not Anna. She called her best friend, Julie. She and Julie had taken skating lessons together, had camped out at Lake Minnetonka every summer, cross-country skied on the golf courses every winter, had shared the stories of their first kisses in eighth grade, had cried together when Julie got stood up at a junior high school dance, and knew all of each other’s secrets. Chase needed to hear a friendly voice, so she did what she usually did. She called Julie.
    There was no answer. She texted, “Call ASAP SOS.”
    Within five minutes her cell rang.
    Chase opened the connection without checking caller ID. “Julie?”
    “No, this is Dr. Ramos.”
    Chase pictured his dark, curly hair and those liquid brown eyes. Her heart lurched slightly. “Yes?”
    “I’m calling to see how Quincy is doing.”
    “Oh.” He was just interested in the cat. “To tell you the truth, something isn’t working. I don’t have a scale, but it seems like he’s gaining weight.”
    “You’re feeding him the prescription meals and treats?”
    “Oh yes. I am, Dr. Ramos.” Other people may not be, though. Other people, like Anna.
    “Please call me Mike. Do you think he’s getting into anything else to eat?” Was he a mind reader?
    “He . . . may be getting . . . something.” She scratched between her cat’s ears, right on his stripes, where he liked it.
    “Would you like to come in tomorrow and weigh him here?”
    “Sure, I’d— No, I can’t tomorrow. It’s Friday. The shop will be tremendously busy until school opens next Tuesday.”
    “What time do you close?”
    “At six.”
    “I can stay late for you, if you’d like to come by then.”
    She’d prefer to meet him somewhere that wasn’t furnished with stainless steel tables, but that would do for now. Maybe she’d bring him some Almond Cherry Bars.
    “I also called to see how you’re doing, Chase.”
    “Not all that well.”
    “I’m concerned about you being mixed up in a murder mess.”
    That was sweet. The man
was
good looking. And hadn’t accused her of embezzlement. So he was a huge step up from the last guy she’d dated, Shaun Everly.
    “I’m holding up pretty well, Dr. Ramos.”
    “Mike.”
    “Okay, Mike.”
    “If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
    She couldn’t imagine what that would be, but she thanked him for his kind offer.
    “I’ll see you about six thirty?”
    After she hung up, Chase had a warm, fuzzy tingle that