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

nodded a greeting. Then she turned to Bartlett. “And Mr. Lucas Bartlett has a committed group of investors who hope to save this piece of history from destruction. We will have a difficult choice to make in the coming days and weeks.” More introductions followed.
    Oh boy,
I thought.
We’re having a town council meeting right here.
    The rather rumpled Ward Stanley stood in sharp contrast to Lucas Bartlett, whose manicured nails and sculpted eyebrows told me this guy was
not
from Mercy. The two men stared at each other wearing tight, fake smiles. Dustin shook hands all around, but when the thirty-something Stanley began to introduce the four men he’d brought with him, Dustin surprised me by interrupting.
    He said, “I would love to meet all you people, but there’s been a development inside the mill and I understand my help is needed.”
    Penelope’s gaze swept across all the men surrounding her. “And we’re sure this
development
won’t interfere with any future plans for the Lorraine Stanley Textile Mill. It’s just a little bump in the road.” She laughed—a tittering laugh that sounded quite counterfeit to my ears.
    How inappropriate,
I thought. All she cared about was that one of these investor groups would produce a shiny new and profitable project, one that would relieve the town of Mercy of any obligation to care for this crumbling eyesore. Meanwhile, inside the mill, bones laywaiting to be identified. Human bones. To paraphrase Emily Dickinson, Penelope dropped very low in my regard right then.
    I cleared my throat and said, “Since Dustin might need my help inside getting to the back office, he’s asked me to go with him. Can you allow us room to get through the gate, Penelope?”
    She looked at Dustin. “Why would you need help? You have blueprints and spent a good deal of time in there yesterday.”
    “Jillian is quite familiar with the layout of old mills,” he said, looking down at me. He turned back to Penelope. “I could really use her expertise, if you don’t mind.”
    “First professors and police officers and now the two of you.” She turned to the suddenly silent crowd—who rather reminded me of those twelve angry men of movie fame. She gestured broadly and stepped back, her entourage following her lead. “Go right ahead.”
    Dustin fumbled with the lock, but finally we were through the gate and heading toward the mill. The stares of those we’d left behind seemed to pierce my back, but when I felt that familiar thing that cats do—jump dolphinlike against my leg and then surge ahead to lead the way—I knew Boots had come along. And somehow, this provided a kind of reassurance.
    Before we reached the door, I heard Penelope call my name. I turned.
    She gestured for me to come back, saying, “I need to ask you something, Jillian. It will only take a second.”
    Dustin sighed heavily. “Go on. She
is
my boss on all this. Let’s make the woman happy.”
    I returned to the fence and Penelope didn’t open the gate. She simply leaned against the chain links and whispered, “I understand there’s a skeleton in there. Let’s be clear. You’re here as a volunteer and not connected in any official capacity to this mess. Don’t say a word toanyone. This could be a PR nightmare. Everything goes through me? Understand?”
    “If you believe I’d gossip about what we found, you don’t know me very well.” I forced a smile.
    “Your stepdaughter works for the media. You cannot tell her about this…this
mess
.”
    “The mess you’re referring to might be human remains,” I said, my patience quickly fading. “And Kara runs a small-town newspaper. She’s not a CNN producer or anything.”
    To her credit, she looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I sounded unsympathetic. Please, assist Dustin, if you would. Just remember what I said.” She turned on one heather gray heel and walked back to the men vying for the mill.
    I rejoined Dustin. Just inside the massive door, he’d left a