Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

T he next morning, Cat was up early and downstairs in the kitchen eating waffles when Seth came in with Sam. The dog greeted Shauna, then ran to Cat. She fed him a bite of bacon, then went back to demolishing her waffle.

“No wonder Sam loves you best,” Shauna put a waffle-covered plate on the table for Seth and then sat back down to eat. “You spoil him.”

“My mom always said it was rude to eat in front of other people without offering them some,” Cat responded. “Good morning, Seth. What’s on the agenda today?”

“I think you used the wrong word there, dogs, not people,” Shauna pointed out.

Cat reached down and covered Sam’s ears. “Don’t tell him that. He thinks he’s people too.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t,” Seth laughed as he poured maple syrup over the still-hot waffle. “Unless he learned how to dig holes in the backyard from one of you .”

“Has Shauna working in her garden been giving you bad ideas?” Cat asked Sam who cocked his ears at her, trying to understand the words. She gave him a bit of waffle she’d broken off earlier, hoping Seth would bring the dog with him to breakfast.

“You’re a nut,” Seth said as he got up to get coffee. After he’d refilled Cat and Shauna’s cups, he sat back down. “Your friend wants an estimate on what it would cost to replace the flooring in his conservatory since the cleaning staff can’t get the blood out of the grouting.”

“That’s gross,” Shauna rolled her eyes. “We always talk about something disgusting at the table. Murders, mob families, and now home improvement projects due to blood seepage. Maybe we should have a no bad topics at meals rule.”

“Maybe. Speaking of bad topics, I chatted with Maggie a lot yesterday. She just doesn’t seem the type to be involved with the family business. She lost her mom last year and from what she said, I think she was helping with the hospice.” Cat ran a finger in the left-over maple syrup since her waffle was gone. She licked it off. “Between raising kids, her ailing mother, and her demanding husband, I’m not sure she’d have time to be a boss lady.”

“If you want something done, give it to someone busy,” Shauna quoted. “I do agree with you though. She just doesn’t seem the type.”

“Not a cold-blooded killer?” Seth asked. When the two women stared at him, he shrugged. “What? Dante looks like he could be involved with the mob and can give you a look like you’re already dead. Or is that piercing look he has saved only for me?”

“And on that note, I need to get upstairs and get writing before I have to run the session today,” Cat stood and rinsed her plate. She’d wanted another waffle, but she didn’t need it. She was full. “Seth, can you be on call to drive the group to the bookstore if it snows on Friday?”

“Of course. They’ve been a little self-sufficient this week. I’ve felt like I’m not needed much.” He turned toward Shauna. “Any chance I can get another waffle?”

Cat grabbed the travel mug Shauna had already filled for her and headed upstairs. Seth hated Dante and the feeling was kind of mutual. And she was stuck in the middle.

She wondered if that would ever change.

The Ask-the-Author-Anything session went as she’d expected. A few members of the group were closer to being published than the others. So the question of traditional versus self-publishing came up. Since Cat hadn’t self-published anything, her input was basic but she reminded the group about the Thursday panel. She’d developed a list of national writers' groups for the different genre areas and had added in a few that were specifically for people wanting to do it all. The idea made Cat want to weep. She had too much on her plate as it was to take on the responsibility for the entire book. She had heard one bit of advice that she thought covered the author’s job well. So she ended the group with that focus.

“As an author, it doesn’t matter how you publish, you have one responsibility. You are the project manager for the book. You need to expect to have input on or design your covers, make sure the book is edited well, and lend a hand in, or do all of the marketing. However you choose to publish, you should always have a plan for the life of the book. You’re also a branding expert. You can’t just hire people to write social media posts and guest blogs. You have to be the one who touches everything.”

“It sounds exhausting,” Nan had stopped writing and was now staring at Cat.

“Being an author is the most exhausting and exciting job you can ever have. But that’s the point. It is a job.” Cat met everyone’s gaze, one by one. “And you always have to remember that. It’s fun, it’s hard, it’s time-consuming… but you get to make up worlds and inspire others. When you’re at book events, every person is important. The last thing you need is someone to get the idea that you don’t care. And you’ll have homework every night of the week.”

“So basically, you’re saying, be careful what you wish for, you might get it.” Alicia leaned back in her chair. “No one has ever said those things regarding being a writer. Mostly in class, they all expect that you’ll write to get a job teaching at a college. You have to publish so they can add it to your bio.”

“That’s one way to do it,” Cat shrugged. “I have a half-done literary novel in a drawer somewhere that has been workshopped to death. Everyone has an opinion on what you should be like as a writer. Or how you should write your book. But in the end, it’s your story. Tell it like the book needs to be told.”

The room was quiet after that. Cat had either got them thinking or they were in shock at what she’d said. She glanced at her watch. “And with that it’s time. Our first reader tonight will be Alicia. I figure she’s had the experience with workshopping before so she won’t be as overwhelmed. I’ll put her pages on the front desk as well as email them to you so you can read them before if you want. See you all tonight.”

As people were leaving, Cat pulled Nan aside. “You’re up first with a ten am appointment with me tomorrow morning. Anything specific you want to talk about so I can be prepared?”

“Writer journey, I guess. This helped, but I’m still struggling to understand what happens now that I’ve finished a book,” Nan glanced around the room. “Good and bad.”

“That sounds perfect. What genre are you aiming for?” Cat wrote down the information as she listened. After Nan explained her elevator pitch, Cat nodded. “We’ll be meeting in my office on the third floor to the left of the stairwell in the east wing.”

As Cat left the group as they gathered to go into town to lunch, she ran into Maggie. “So when are you leaving?”

“The event is at seven tonight and I have to get ready, so I’ll probably leave here about five and try to make a full day of the retreat. I wouldn’t go except it’s a donor and faculty reception to honor Allen. Mike and Roxie put it together,” Maggie held up a finger to Alicia who was by the front door with the group. “Well, Roxie probably did all the work. She’s a driven one, but Mike seems to get all the credit. I would have thought that they would have promoted Roxie over him.”

“Funny, I’m hearing that a lot,” Cat said.

“You should come. I’m sure Martin would be furious, but you and your ex-husband were a big part of Covington when he was alive. He brought a lot of money in with his writings and speaking events.” She grabbed Cat’s arm excitedly. “And if you need a dress, I have several little black dresses that would fit you perfectly.”

Cat patted Maggie’s arm. “Sorry, I don’t think I can step away from the retreat tonight. But I’ll be at the funeral tomorrow. And I have a dress.”

“Oh, of course you do,” Maggie released her arm. “Sorry, I got a little worked up. I do that at times. Anyway, they’re waiting for me. We’ll chat later.”

Seth joined her as soon as Maggie stepped away. Cat hadn’t seen him in the foyer. “That was intense.”

“You thought so too, right?” Cat asked as she watched the group, now bundled in heavy coats make their way out of the foyer and out into the porch. Maggie was walking with Alicia who had her arm around the older woman. When Alicia looked back, Cat smiled and waved. The girl did the same.

And yet, Cat couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Shauna asked me to come and get you for lunch,” Seth said. He too was watching the group leave. “Is something not right there?”

“Now, that is the question, isn’t it?” Cat answered his question with another which is how these weeks tended to go. “Just once I’d like a quiet retreat with no murder or subterfuge going on.”

Seth chuckled as they walked to the kitchen. “Now what fun would that be?”

After lunch, Cat felt restless so instead of going back to her office to write, she decided to walk over to the college. Maybe she could accidentally run into this Roxie that everyone was praising and see what she had to say about Allen’s death and quick replacement. If anything.

At worst, it would get her out of the house for a couple of hours. She asked Shauna to make the copies for tonight’s reading and she forwarded Alicia’s emailed section to the rest of the group. Then she bundled up and started walking to the college. When she passed Dante’s house, she saw a figure in the window. She didn’t stop. Dante didn’t have the answers to this murder or even the missing money. He was as much in the dark as she was.

She had just turned the corner when she heard someone calling her name. She turned around and saw Dante in his long wool coat hurrying after her. Even out in the cold, the guy looked like he stepped out of that GQ magazine. He probably had an expensive sweater and cords underneath the coat.

“Catherine, what are you doing out here? Are your cars in the shop?” Dante wasn’t even out of breath catching up with her. The man was fit.

“I’m walking to the university. I wanted to see if I could talk to Roxie.” Cat shoved her gloved hands into the coat. Now that she’d stopped walking, she was starting to feel the chill. Okay, the cold.

“Why are you focusing on Roxie?” Dante took off his woolen scarf and tied it around her head and neck. “Let’s walk and talk, otherwise, you’ll freeze here on the sidewalk.”

“Thanks for the scarf, I never seem to think about one until I’m out and walking. Anyway, Roxie seems like the power behind the fundraising department. She’s the one who gets things done. That’s the person who knows everything including where the bodies are buried, so to speak.” Cat felt a little warmer now that they were walking. Living in Colorado meant you took winter seriously but didn’t stay locked in your house from fall to spring. You needed to take the so-called warmer days and get outside in the diffuse sunlight. “You even said she should have been the one promoted, why?”

“Like you said, she’s a hard worker. I think she does more for donor relations than anyone else. She keeps the donors giving to the school. Allen and Mike would promise you the moon for a check, she keeps the donors sending those checks year after year.” He stopped her from crossing the street as a truck barreled through the intersection. “She’s solid, I guess.”

“And it’s the flashy ones who get noticed,” Cat nodded. “I get that. Sometimes I wish that the underdog would get the cheese or the girl or in this case, the job.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors,” Dante laughed. “What are there too many stories in your head to keep all of them straight?”

Cat checked the street, then crossed toward the campus. She was buying a hot chocolate from the lobby vendor as soon as she got into the administration building. “Sometimes I think so. I’ll remember a scene from a book because it was powerful and emotional, but not the author's name. Or I’ll remember loving a book I read years ago but now I can’t tell you why. I think some books are made for us at a specific period. There to get us through whatever we’re going through. And I went way off-topic.”

“I like to hear how your brain works. I think you’re right. If something was going wrong in the fundraising department, or probably on the entire campus, Roxie would know.” He walked inside the building with her. “I’ll leave you here to do your sleuthing.”

“I’m not sleuthing, I’m just asking questions,” Cat sighed because Dante was right. Her uncle would call it sleuthing too. “You could come with me.”

He looked around the administration building’s lobby. Everyone who walked by looked at him, then dropped their gaze when they realized he was watching. Dante didn’t go anywhere incognito. “I don’t think my presence will open the doors you want it to. Let me know if you need a car to get you back home. I can send Roger.”

“It’s almost forty degrees out there, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not hanging out here long. The writers’ group is starting at five and we’re doing a critique session first thing.” She laughed at the confused look he was giving her. “And you don’t understand anything I’m saying.”

“Sorry, no. I’d come to one of your retreats, but I think Mr. Howard’s head would explode. Have a good day, Catherine, and please be safe.”

She watched him walk out the door and then she turned to find the elevator. It wasn’t until she was walking off on the fourth floor that she realized she was still wearing his scarf.

She unwrapped it and opened her coat. The building was warm and toasty, even though she hadn’t bought a hot cocoa like she’d planned. Dante threw her off at times. She didn’t love him, but she could see how he and Michael had been such close friends. The guy listened.

The door to the fundraising department had a sign on the front announcing the reception for Allen Johnson starting at six. Cat half expected the door to be locked as people headed home early to get ready but the door was unlocked. Kim wasn’t at the front desk and no one was in the glass-walled conference room. Cat walked toward the hallway that led back to the offices. “Is anyone here?”

She heard a noise down the hall. As Cat walked toward it, she paused at an open door to an office that must be Mike Tosan’s now. It still had Allen’s name on the door, but it was clearly being used. She stepped inside and hurried over to his desk. There were a few files on top. One was labeled pending donations, another – Allen’s contacts. And a third was just labeled Urgent.

Cat opened that one. A summary of the disappearing money issue was on top along with a spreadsheet listing donations, dates, and names. Kim had said that she and Mike were investigating the problem too. She didn’t hear any footsteps, so she spread out the pages and took a picture of each one, hoping her hand wasn’t shaking.

She scooted them back into the folder, then headed out the door. Anything that had been Allen’s looked like it was packed in boxes at the edge of the office. Probably waiting for the widow to come and haul it out. Mike already had a picture of him and his wife or girlfriend on the polished desk.

Cat kept walking. Someone was running a shredder. She knew that sound since Shauna insisted on shredding all their junk mail to use for fire starter in the house. She followed the noise and found Roxie Scarsdale in what looked like a mail room. She waited for her to finish with a page before speaking, “Excuse me.”

Roxie jumped and fell on her butt. She stared at Cat. “What are you doing here?”

“No one was out front, but I heard you back here. Do you have a moment to talk?” Cat added a smile to her request, especially since she’d scared the woman.

“I’m just cleaning up a few old files,” Roxie explained. “We try to keep our donor list up to date. It doesn’t do us any good if people have died or left the area or even stopped donating for some reason to send them a Christmas card.”

“I get it,” she nodded, but she wondered why no one from the college had taken Michael off the mailing list. He got an alumni funding request probably every three months since he died. And he used to work at the college. “I know you have an event tonight, anyway you have a few minutes to talk?”

Roxie glanced at her watch as she turned off the shredder. She grabbed the folder and pointed back toward the hall. “My office is on the left. Let’s go there so we can sit.”

“Thanks,” Cat held back and followed Roxie out of the mail room.

Roxie tucked the folder into a desk drawer as she sat behind a completely clear desk. She didn’t have a coffee cup or a folder in sight. “So what can I help you with? Are you looking to set up a scholarship in your late husband’s name?”

“No, this visit isn’t about Michael,” Cat didn’t bother to correct her. This was the same department that was still mailing him and expecting a donation from the great beyond. “I wanted to ask you about Allen Johnson. And what you thought of him.”

Roxie tapped her nails on the surface of the desk, studying her. “I know what you want to ask. You want to know if I think Allen could have stolen that missing money. And my answer is probably. He’s the only one besides Dante Cornelio who had that level of access. Well, besides the president of the college, that is.”