Book One, Page Twelve. Suspicious Mystery. Or Mysterious Suspicion?
Jerry registered a short burst of mild alarm. That was enough for Julie to decode. He was thinking something he shouldn't, but he didn't know what or why.
Winifred Lancaster was just a name to him. He hadn't met or even spoken to her. All he knew was that she was a young, single woman, an unemployed chef, and the owner of a deceased cat named Pinky that her mother, now also dead, had rolled over a few days ago.
"This is Dr. Wells," said Jerry, his tone deepening to the professional register. "Is this Winifred Lancaster? I was so shocked to hear that your mother passed away. She was in my office the morning before last, and the Friday before that. She said that Pinky was your cat. I'm sorry about that, too. This must be a terrible time for you. Is there anything I can do?"
"You just answered my question," Winifred's voice said. "When we went into the house after we took care of my mother, I found your card on her kitchen counter. On the back of the card it just said, 'Winifred call.' I didn't know what I was supposed to call you about, but of course it must have been the cat. My mother was under the impression that I loved that cat, and she always made a point of telling me how well she took care of it, better than all her other cats. That's what's so crazy about this. They think that her heart attack was brought on by the strain of digging the hole to bury the cat, which I know she was doing for me, but to tell the truth as far as I care she could have thrown the cat into the garbage. But now she's dead, and I have a cat in a coffin."
She paused and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. But I saw this note to call you, and so I'm calling you."
Jerry said nothing for a second, then came back, still in professional tone, "It's quite all right. I deal with this sort of thing all the time. Our pets can really mess up our heads."
"Yeah, well, I'm more messed up about my mother than about the damn cat," Winifred said. "This really has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry I had to bother you like this. Good-bye."
"Wait!" said Jerry, too late.
Julie observed all this carefully. "What was that all about?" she asked.
"It was Mrs. Lancaster's daughter Winifred," he said. "She owned that cat--the one that died--although she doesn't sound like she was very attached to it. When she went over to her mother's house after finding out she had a heart attack, she found my card, which I gave to Mrs. Lancaster to give to her, because she's a chef, and she doesn't have a job right now."
It was a perfectly good explanation, and it was all true. But Jerry knew that the way he was blurting it all out made Julie regard it all with suspicion. And it was kind of a weird story, come to think of it.
"Why did she feel the need to call you?" Julie wanted to know.
"Because Mrs. Lancaster wrote herself a note on the back of it to give it to Winifred," Jerry said, feeling himself continuing to lose control.
"But how did she know you need a chef, if that's all that was on the card?"
"She doesn't know. I'm going to have to call her back. In fact. . ." Jerry looked at the caller ID. It was Mrs. Lancaster's number. "Uh-oh," he said. "She called from her mom's. I'd better call her back to get a good number for her."
"Can't she call you?" said Julie. "She has your number."
"She has no reason to call me back," Jerry said, as he punched in the number. "If I don't get her now, I'll lose her."
What does he mean by that? thought Julie.
"Hello, Winifred?" Jerry said. "This is Dr. Wells again. I'm sorry to trouble you, and I understand how upset you must be. But the reason your name was on my card was that there was something else I wanted to discuss with you. But it's not pressing, and I understand that this is a bad time for you. But would you mind calling me after things have settled down a bit? No hurry at all. What? No, it's not about a bill. I didn't charge your mother, I felt so bad about her cat. Yes. Good. Thank you."
"Why didn't you charge her mother for taking care of that cat?" asked Julie. "You certainly spent some time on it."
"I don't know. . . it's just that. . . well, when she came in. . . Look, it just didn't seem right to me at the time, okay?"
"I guess so," said Julie.
What was this intense charge in the air?
