Claws for Alarm

by Cate Conte

  “Yes. She called me too.” I glanced at Val. “I forgot to tell you.”

  Val frowned. “They called to say they still want to have it?”

  I nodded.

  “What did you say?” Peyton asked.

  “I told her I’d talk to Val. She said she’d be in touch.” I hesitated. “Look, Peyton. I appreciate everything you’ve done already for us. I don’t want you to feel obligated to see this through if you want to leave, after what happened.”

  She looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. “Oh, you think I’m backing out. Absolutely not. I want to do an event for you. I just want to do it a bit differently.”

  “Differently?” I repeated. “Differently how?”

  “I don’t think we need to make it such a grand affair like what Jillian was driving for. And I actually don’t think we need the League’s help.”

  “You don’t?” Val asked.

  Peyton shook her head. “I’m not a fan of hoity-toity events like that. Jillian and I … had very different opinions on how to maximize fundraising opportunities. She liked a big splash. No, I think we should do it at your café.”

  “You do?” I glanced at Val. That had been my suggestion at first, but Val didn’t think it would work for this event.

  She nodded. “I do. We can use your garage café and backyard for the bulk of it, but still have the cats available for people to see what they are supporting. I’ll still be your face. We can do some fun auction items if you want, but I can get you the same price per ticket—more, actually—we wouldn’t have to spend money on the venue, and we wouldn’t have to give twenty-five percent to the League. Not that they don’t do good work,” she said, holding up a hand. “But you’re a small guy and I think you need it more.” She looked from me to Val and back again. “Plus, who wants to have a party where … such a terrible thing happened?”

  I thought about her proposal, trying to see it from all sides. I had no real stake in the League, other than they had brought me Peyton in the first place. Did that mean they deserved my loyalty? What would they think if we bailed on them, then they found out we did it anyway?

  On the other hand, twenty-five percent was a lot. I knew we would still get a lot, but still. I didn’t need the big party if we could make the same amount of money for the rescue operation.

  “We’ll keep the meet and greet we had on the calendar,” Peyton said, still trying to sell her idea. “I bet we can sell out by then—I’ll put my people on it today, if you agree—but if we don’t, the meet and greet should put us over the top. What do you think?” She looked at us as eagerly as a child would at Santa telling him about her Christmas list. “And, we can even make the meet and greet part of the fundraising efforts. How about this.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparking with excitement. “We bill it as a free event, with a suggested donation of fifty dollars to help the island’s neediest residents. That’s chump change to the people who summer here on the island,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “And what if we start a sponsorship campaign—anyone who donates a hundred dollars or more to meet us would get to sponsor an animal in need of their choice, from the café or the animal control center.”

  Despite everything that had happened today, I could feel myself getting interested. “People do like to sponsor animals. If they get adopted, we can always give them another one.”

  Val nodded. “I like the idea. And if we have the fund-raiser at the café, I’m sure I could pull it off with my own team and a couple freelancers.”

  “Brilliant!” Peyton clapped her hands together. Rhiannon’s head jerked up from where it had been buried in her tail. She looked around, then wound her tail around her face again. “Maddie?”

  “I like it too,” I said. “We’d have to figure out how we’ll handle the League, though.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Peyton said. “I’ve known them for a while. I’ll take care of it. Oh, I’m delighted. And Esther will certainly be a help as well. She’s been doing this for so long, she knows my preferences.” She looked at her for confirmation.

  Esther nodded. “I’d love to.”

  “There is one little thing,” she said, once I’d picked up my cookie again to nibble on it.

  I motioned for her to go on.

  “I’d love if we could move the date up to this coming Saturday instead of the following. I think it’s going to be tough for us to be out here that long with all this craziness going on. I don’t want your police chief to run me out of town because he’s tired of all his people being out here babysitting us. Will that work?”

  Val and I looked at each other. I had no idea, but I was pretty sure once people heard Peyton was going to be there, I’d sell the thing out in an hour. Then it was the not-so-simple act of putting the event on. I swallowed the rest of my cookie and smiled. “Sure,” I said. “We’ll make it work.”

  “Excellent.” She smiled, and I got the sense that she’d known all along this was an offer we couldn’t refuse. “What do you think of a Stevie Nicks theme? Rhiannon would love it.”

  Chapter 26

  “This Saturday?” My mother looked at us with barely disguised alarm. “Here?”

  Val and I had returned from Peyton’s yacht a united front to face the challenge of sitting down and telling everyone else who had a stake in this game—Grandpa, Mom, and Ethan. Luckily our mother was still there helping out in the café—she’d be the easiest to convince. Once she got playing with the cats, it was hard to get her to leave. I knew she was trying to get my dad to agree to adopt a friend for Moonshine, the cat she’d adopted when we’d first opened.

  “Yes,” I said calmly, trying not to let the look on Ethan’s face get me agitated. “Peyton wants to leave early. People are trying to find ways onto her boat and the police are all over the marina. She doesn’t think it’s sustainable and doesn’t want to put people out for another week.”

  “Makes sense,” Grandpa said. “I’m sure Chief McAuliffe isn’t loving having to put so many men out there round the clock.”

  “Val. That’s kind of insane,” Ethan said. “That’s five days to pull this off.”

  “Yeah, but if it’s here, it’s going to be a lot easier,” Val said. “I already have a setup in mind. Mostly outdoors with one of those amazing tents, with overflow outside on the lawn. The food stations will be in the garage. We can let people into the café in shifts.” She looked at Ethan. “Please. I have to do this to get my mind off … today. Otherwise all I’m going to do is think about what happened.”

  Ethan sighed. “I understand.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll help plan the menu.”

  “You’re the best.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  “And Peyton is going to help,” I chimed in. “She’s got a bunch of auction items for us already—things from her personal collection she’s going to donate: animal stuff, outfits from some movies, shoes…” I would have to watch myself so I didn’t end up bidding on everything. Peyton wore amazing shoes and our feet looked to be about the same size. I’d checked.

  “Yeah, she’s being so generous. I have to admit, I thought she’d be harder to work with. We’d heard…” Val faltered a bit and I knew she was thinking of Jillian’s insinuation about Peyton being difficult. “We’d heard she could be a real diva. Although this Stevie Nicks theme. How far you think she wants to take that?”

  “Stevie Nicks theme?” My mother’s entire face brightened at that one. She was definitely a fan of Stevie’s gypsy ways. “I can definitely take the lead on that! We’ll have the best decorations! And maybe we can all dress up like Stevie! That would add an element of mystique, now wouldn’t it?”

  * * *

  I slept an unsettled sleep that night. The whole exhausting experience of the day, from finding Jillian’s body to the encounter with Mish to Grandpa’s story to being on Peyton’s yacht and back to party planning left my head spinning. I wasn’t sure where to focus or what to do next. We had five days to plan a m
ajor fundraiser. The woman who originally had been planning it was dead—murdered—and someone walking around our island had killed her.

  The whole thing was hard to comprehend. And the image of Jillian’s unseeing eyes kept sneaking into the edges of my dreams. Finally at six a.m. I woke up for good and figured maybe some movement would help me get my head together. Also I needed to get ready to go to the courthouse. I really wanted to see this will that Stevie’s grandmother had left that was causing so much commotion. And possibly murder, a little voice added. I pushed that thought aside. I still couldn’t bear to think of my childhood friends as murderers. But who else hated Jillian enough to strangle her with a cat leash?

  I extracted my leg from under Lucas’s and slipped out of bed. JJ, who had been on my pillow, curled up in the warm spot I’d vacated and went back to sleep. Ollie, who always slept at the foot of the bed, raised his head to look at me. I scratched behind his ears, then pulled on a sweatshirt and let myself out of my room. Ollie jumped off the bed and followed. I closed the door behind us.

  The house was quiet. I didn’t think Grandpa was even up yet. And the coffeepot was cold and silent, so Ethan hadn’t gotten up yet either. Unless he’d gotten up super early and went to do Tai Chi with Cass or something. Or else he was still mad at me for wanting to have this event.

  I poked my head into the café. The residents were still sleeping. The kittens were awake and tumbling around together in their condo. I checked the schedule—our volunteer Harry was on this morning—then went to prepare the coffee and took Ollie outside. It was his favorite time of day. He loved the early morning, the dewy grass, the first kiss of summer sunlight. I did too, for that matter. I sat on the back porch and watched him trot around the yard, sniffing around like it was the first time he’d been here, tail wagging joyfully at each scent. We could all learn so much from dogs.

  As I watched him sniff, I thought about Jillian. And Mish and Stevie. Given what I’d been hearing about their family drama, sure, they made good suspects. I couldn’t help but think that was the easy answer, though. But that would mean there was a whole other drama playing out in Jillian’s life at the same time. Unless, of course, some murdering psychopath had randomly happened upon her sitting in the gazebo and decided to strangle her. If that was the case, where would they have gotten the leash? If Jillian had brought the boxes to the hotel, depending on where she’d put them they would’ve been accessible. But only if someone knew they existed and where to look. Had it been a crime of opportunity, or was someone using the leash to send a message?

  The only other people who would know her on the island well enough to want her dead, as far as I knew, were Chad, Peyton, and Marco. Since she didn’t spend much time here, she probably didn’t know many other people. Her grandmother was dead. It didn’t sound like there were any other relatives, at least not close ones.

  I heard the coffee maker beep inside, signaling the nectar of the gods was ready. As I rose to go in and pour myself a cup, I saw Ollie’s ears perk up, then he took off around the side of the house.

  “Ollie!” I yelled. Lucas and I usually let him run around the yard when we were out here because he didn’t ever take off like that. I ran around the side of the house in my bare feet, completely panicked—Lucas would kill me if he ran away. And skidded to a stop when I saw him sitting in front of a woman who stood at the bottom of my front-porch steps looking like she was trying to decide if she should go to the door or not.

  From what I could see from where I stood, she looked about my mom’s age, carefully dressed despite the early—ridiculously early—hour. When she saw me, her eyes brightened and she waved enthusiastically, like we’d known each other forever. I approached cautiously. Ollie didn’t seem to sense any danger, but he still didn’t move from his blocking position.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I sure hope so!” She waved a piece of paper at me. “I want to buy a ticket before they’re all gone.”

  “A ticket?” I came forward. “Ollie, come,” I said, snapping my fingers. He obediently came over and sat down in front of me while I tried to figure out what the heck was she talking about. Did she think we were the ferry operators or something? That was the only ticket I could think of. Or was she trying to schedule time at the cat café? “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “To the fundraiser!” She thrust the paper at me. I stepped over and took it. It was something she’d printed off the computer. It was an announcement that JJ’s House of Purrs—in partnership with Peyton Chandler—was hosting a fundraiser at the café this coming Saturday. Limited spots available, $1200 per ticket. All proceeds to go to Daybreak Island animal rescue efforts. A picture of Peyton snuggling with Rhiannon, along with a photo of JJ that I didn’t even recognize, were in the middle of the text.

  Apparently we were raising the price.

  I looked up at the woman, confused. “Where did you get this?”

  “On Peyton’s fan site!” she exclaimed, as if I must be slow. “Where else?”

  “I see.” I studied it again. “Well, I don’t actually, um…” I looked around the yard as if a ticket might magically appear that I could give her. I desperately needed my coffee so I could figure out a solution for this.

  “Here.” The woman thrust a check at me. “Twelve hundred dollars, plus another hundred for an added donation. Perhaps I can sit close to Peyton?” She looked at me hopefully.

  I had to laugh. “Sure, Ms.…?”

  “I’m Chassie Rothstein,” she said. “I know your daddy very well.”

  “Ms. Rothstein. Of course. Well, listen. I don’t have the official tickets yet, but here’s what I’m going to do.” I reached for my phone before remembering I hadn’t brought it down with me. “I’m going to write you out a ticket, and I’ll call you when I have the real ones. Okay?”

  “Lovely, dear. Just make sure you put me at Peyton’s table.”

  “Noted. Be right back.” I raced into the house and into the café, where I grabbed one of the JJ’s House of Purrs postcards off the rack. I scribbled the date and place on the ticket, along with the ticket price, a note about the seating arrangements, and signed my name. I found my phone, took a picture of it so I didn’t forget, then hurried back outside and presented it to her with a flourish.

  “Oh, how delightful.” She sighed and held it close to her chest. “Will Marco be coming too? I adore him.”

  Chapter 27

  After I sent Chassie on her way, Ollie and I went inside. I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with a thud. Peyton—or her minions—had apparently been busy already, since our conversation yesterday. I wondered if she’d talked to Jo, or if she’d just gone ahead and started advertising. Or if she’d leaked it to someone, who had then gone on to publicize it. I needed to google and see what was going on.

  I topped off my cup, locked the back door, and went upstairs. Lucas and JJ were still asleep. I wish I could sleep like that, no matter what was going on. Ollie joined them on the bed while I grabbed my iPad and went to sit in the book nook. I curled up, tucked my legs under me, and googled the café’s name first. Bones, my web guy out in California, did all my website stuff, including all my search-engine optimization, in which he was expert. I think he also did a lot of hacking, but that was a whole other story. I clicked on my website first—mostly just to see it because it was super cute—then went back to the other search results. The second hit was the announcement that Chassie Rothstein had seen. I went to that website to check it out. The “about” page told me it was a page for Peyton Chandler fans. Google told me it wasn’t her official site. I read the text under the announcement.

  This just in!!!!! Stolen from Peyton’s official site (I added the graphics). Who’s up for a trip to Daybreak Island?

  Someone named Peyton_rescue_love had posted it. I wondered if people knew the ticket price.

  I went to PeytonChandler.com. Sure enough, there was a “breaking news” area on h
er homepage, and it was all about the café event. She was nothing if not enthusiastic about this.

  I flipped my iPad closed and tossed it aside. I figured I’d hear something from her soon enough, and in the meantime I needed to get ready to go to the courthouse. I had to get my hands on Marcella Cox’s will and see who this executor was—and what the terms of the will were. Maybe that would shed some light on this Stevie/Mish/Jillian situation, and help clear their names.

  I took a shower, put some air-dry styling product in my hair, and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to get to the courthouse by nine, but it was only eight. I wandered back downstairs to see if Ethan was up yet. No sign of him. Grandpa had been up sometime in between when I’d gone upstairs and come back down—the coffee was brewing—but he must’ve left for his walk, or some other important business. I went into the café to check on the cats. Harry was diligently sweeping cat litter. When I came in, he looked up hopefully from where he crouched down cleaning under the couches. When he saw it was me and not Adele, his crush, his face fell just a tad.

  “Morning, Harry,” I said.

  “Morning, Ms. Maddie. These kitties sure are messy.”

  “I hear you, Harry.” I sat down on the floor with the laser toy, which brought all the kittens and a few of the older cats. Before I knew it, I was engrossed in an active game of laser tag and lost track of time until a few minutes later when Adele burst in through the café doors, waving a newspaper at me.

  “You see this story?”

  I was a little afraid to see it. “No. Let’s have a look.” I took the paper from her hands and skimmed the front page. Which had a whole story (thanks, Jenna) on the Warner family saga right next to the more straightforward headline about Jillian’s untimely death. There were accompanying photos of the Paradise and its outside area, presumably taken from the website. I doubted the police had let anyone in to take photos yesterday.