Claws for Alarm

by Cate Conte

  “Brother?” he repeated.

  “Yep. Apparently a long-lost half brother or something that Jillian didn’t know about and only found out ten years ago or so.” I went back to the list, but nothing else stood out. With a shrug, I handed him back the papers. “Might be worth checking out. Just in case. If he was the one fighting with her, that could mean something. Especially if he felt entitled to whatever she was here on the island to get. And as much as I like Peyton and Marco both, something tells me they had their reasons to dislike Jillian too.”

  Chapter 34

  “I can’t believe you roped me into this.” Adele tied up the last bag of trash and hauled it to the door. “You know I don’t like people.”

  It was meet-and-greet-with-Peyton day. And Adele was dreading it. I stifled a laugh and picked up my own bag of trash. “I thought you liked Peyton.” Given that we were down a volunteer (Mish), Adele was stuck with me and Grandpa today, working this shindig. And if JJ’s House of Purrs’ Instagram page was any indication, it was going to be a huge hit. Clarissa had been hyping it on our social since Monday—although we hadn’t really needed to with the personal campaign Peyton had launched. She was all in, spreading the word on all her social accounts, Marco’s accounts, and probably half a dozen places I hadn’t seen.

  “I do like Peyton. I just don’t like all the other people who are going to show up,” she grumbled.

  “I know. But it’s a good thing.” I patted her on the back. “Our campaign really resonated.” Katrina and I had taken the sponsorship idea Peyton had floated and gone a step further, using a “by the numbers” theme to break down the number of cats that had already passed through the café, our adoption rate, and what it cost to care for one kitty who resided here. With Ellory’s and Lucas’s help, we’d even created posters with photos of all the animals in the café and a few facts about each of them.

  I was really good at throwing myself into stuff like this, but the whole Mish-being-arrested thing was like a cloud over everything. Even Adele had been very subdued since she’d heard. There were some people she pretended indifference for, but I knew deep down she really liked. Mish was one of them. I had a strong feeling that anyone Adele didn’t like wouldn’t last here at the café. If you passed her test it usually meant something.

  So it was safe to say neither of us were convinced Mish had killed Jillian, but despite staying up half the night trying to piece the puzzle together, I still wasn’t any closer to figuring out who was the next best option on my list. The police didn’t seem to be concerned at this point—they’d made their arrest, the chief was happy, at least according to the press conference they’d held yesterday, and apparently the hotel business was now able to thrive again.

  It didn’t sit well.

  But I had to push it out of my mind, at least for the moment, if we were going to put out a positive vibe for the day.

  “You know what kind of people we’re gonna get crawling all over this place today? All those Kardashian-follower types.” Adele made a face and fluffed one of the cat beds that had been flattened by too many kitties sitting on it at once. “They give me a headache.”

  I had to laugh. She was probably right. “Still, they’re all probably going to give a donation to get to sponsor a cat or buy some swag or something. And, tickets to the fundraiser if it hasn’t already sold out.”

  “We’re at eighty-nine percent sold out!” Val yelled from the next room. “We’ll definitely hit our numbers today. And if we have more demand”—she poked her head around the corner—“I’ll set up chairs outside the tent. I mean, I’m going to have a second tent on standby anyway in case it rains. Actually, I should use the tent anyway. I’m going to open up more seats. Mom! We’re going to add more tables.” She disappeared again.

  Adele and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Is she always like this when she’s planning a party?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I said. “But it looks like she’s embraced this whole idea. Which is a little ambitious. If I had to plan this thing in like four days I may have jumped off the nearest bridge.” I turned as the doorbell in the main house rang. “Who’s that?”

  “Probably some rabid fan wanting to be first,” Adele grumbled.

  I ignored her and headed out, meeting up with Val, who was also on her way to the door. “Expecting someone? It’s early,” I said.

  She made a face. “I hope it’s not Esther. Man, she’s so involved in this planning. She’s like a micromanager. I hate it. But Peyton asked that she be involved so…” Val shrugged and pulled open the door. “Oh! Jo. Hi. Are you here to bring the favors?”

  Jo stepped inside, carrying a box. An older man stood behind her holding two more. “Yeah. This is all of them,” she said, indicating the boxes.

  “You can just drop them,” I said. “We’ll take care of it.”

  The guy literally dropped his and went back out onto the porch without a word. Jo put hers down too, glancing over her shoulder in annoyance. “Sorry about him. He’s annoyed that he made the trip out here,” she said.

  Guess he and Jillian weren’t close, if that’s what was on his mind. “No problem,” I said. It felt a little awkward and I glanced at Val.

  “Thanks for being so understanding,” she said.

  Jo shrugged. “Yeah, well. What are you going to do.”

  “Are you guys leaving soon?” I asked.

  “Soon,” Jo replied, somewhat evasively. I wondered if the cops had asked them to stick around. But if they’d arrested Mish, that couldn’t be the case.

  “Well, thank you for everything,” I said. “Maybe we’ll get another chance to work together down the road.”

  Jo smiled, something I didn’t think I’d seen her do yet. “Maybe.”

  After they left, I turned to Val. “I think they might be upset about the event.”

  “Yeah. Well, we can’t do much about that.” Val bent down and hefted one of the boxes. I grabbed the other two and we took them into the café. “Here okay?” she asked, indicating the area behind the counter.

  “How about over—” I started to say, but Val’s phone rang so she dropped hers and forgot about me.

  “There,” I finished to the empty space. I moved the boxes myself. Once they were piled behind my counter, I grabbed a pair of scissors off my desk and cut through the tape. I took a breath and pulled up the cardboard sides. Neatly coiled leashes were piled up in the box, all secured with a clear piece of plastic. They looked so benign, not like something that could be used to murder another human being.

  Since no one else knew that, I was pretty sure everyone coming to this thing would be delighted to have a Rhiannon-inspired cat leash. I lifted one out, still encased in its plastic sleeve. There was something about it that seemed off to me, but I was distracted by Ethan coming in.

  “Hey,” he said. “People are already lining up outside. I’m going to open the café.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I’m going to get ready now.” I tossed the leash back into the box and closed it. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He still looked troubled, though.

  I reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know Marcella’s death was hard on you. I wish you would’ve told me.”

  He shrugged. “I thought it might sound silly. I didn’t know her that well, right? Only a couple months. We just … connected.”

  “Doesn’t matter how long you knew her. If you connect with someone, you connect with them.” I paused. What I was about to suggest wasn’t really my business, but we were friends and that’s what friends did, right? “Maybe you should go home for a visit. See your grandma. It’s been a year, after all.”

  Ethan thought about that, then nodded slowly. “You may be right.”

  “I’m always right.” I winked at him. “Now I’m going to shower so I’m ready for this shindig.”

  I headed back inside, leaving Ethan sitting on the steps. At least he’d finally told me what was
bothering him. As I headed upstairs, I called Becky.

  “You heard?” I asked when she answered. “About Mish?”

  “I guess you haven’t been to our website,” she said. “We got the tip last night. The cops didn’t want the nationals to get it first.”

  “You believe it?” I asked.

  “I just report it,” she said, though she sounded subdued as well.

  “I feel awful for Stevie. He was here yesterday talking to Grandpa. He swears she didn’t do it, and that he’d confess if they tried to make this stick.”

  Becky whistled. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I let myself into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, then dropped onto the bed next to JJ, who was sprawled out on his back. “Hey. Speaking of tips. I got one yesterday too.”

  “About?”

  “I heard from someone … close enough to Jillian, that Chad Novak is, like, her long-lost brother.”

  “Who is Chad Novak?” Becky asked. I could hear her flipping pages in a notebook to write this down.

  “Peyton Chandler’s and Marco’s agent. And Jillian might have been staying at the Paradise with him when she was killed.”

  “Hmm. So what do you think? He did it?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I’m not sure what it means, but maybe it means something. I told Ellory too. He said one of the hotel people saw her fighting with some guy in the restaurant. He got mad and left her there. It could be him.”

  “I will check it out. Thanks, girl.”

  “Anytime. Oh, and something else weird happened that I meant to tell you about.” I’d almost forgotten about it, but being in the café with my cats had reminded me.

  “Hit me. You know I love weird stuff.”

  “The tabloid people were hiding in my bushes.”

  Becky snorted. “You’re lucky they weren’t hiding in your house. That’s not weird.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. One of them came up to me and asked me to confirm the rumor about Peyton’s cat. Did you hear anything about her cat in your travels?”

  “Her cat?” Becky sounded truly baffled.

  “Yeah, you know how her cat is as famous as her? If not more? Rhiannon?”

  “So what would the rumor be? That it’s not really a cat? It’s a computerized stuffed animal?” Becky laughed at her own joke. “You’re the cat person. What could that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I just hoped maybe you’d heard something.”

  “I haven’t. But I can ask around, I guess. Now that we’re not technically investigating a murder anymore.”

  Chapter 35

  An hour later the line outside our place reached almost down to the ferry dock. Adele was probably losing her mind. My mother and Lucas were helping out in the café, because Ethan was slammed. Becky had sent Jenna and Kevin to cover the event, and they were outside talking to people waiting in line. While I was grateful for the coverage, I wasn’t sure her motives were entirely about the cats, but I’d managed to deflect her so far. I was sure she would corner me at some point to ask about Mish, and I didn’t want to deal with it.

  At ten, Grandpa went out to greet Peyton and Marco, who arrived on the down-low in a black suburban with Chad and some handlers who were going to manage the line of people and the amount of time each guest spent with the stars. Of course, anytime someone picked a black suburban as the car, it was obvious that they were trying to be stealth. So there were a few screaming fans running behind the car into our backyard. Luckily Peyton’s people intercepted them and led them back to the line while Grandpa brought the two stars in through the back door.

  But when he came in, he had a weird look on his face. “Here are our guests of honor,” he said to me, holding the door open. Peyton stepped through—no Rhiannon—and smiled at me. “Hi, Maddie. Good crowd,” she said.

  “It’s amazing,” I said, going over to give her a hug. As I reached her, she stumbled forward and I had to grab her arm to steady her. I thought she’d tripped, but then I realized Marco was behind her and he’d fallen into her, shoving her forward. Grandpa reached out to steady him as he grabbed for the doorframe, trying to regain his balance.

  “Sorry, baby,” he said, and I was shocked to hear his voice slurred almost to the point of being unrecognizable. I looked at Grandpa. He shook his head, miming someone drinking.

  Jeez. Marco was drunk and it was barely ten a.m.?

  “Watch what you’re doing,” Peyton muttered, shoving him off, almost causing him to lose his balance again.

  He caught himself, then looked at me. It took him a moment to focus, but then he lurched forward, reaching for me. “Maddie! So good to see you. How’s that knee?”

  Peyton’s head whipped around, first landing on him, then sliding to me. She looked suspicious.

  I avoided her gaze. “It’s fine,” I said. “Thank you. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Nah.” He patted his pocket. “I brought my own refreshments.”

  Peyton looked like she wanted to hide. “Go sit,” she hissed at him. “And stop talking.”

  He shot her a look then stumbled over to one of the chairs, sitting down harder than necessary.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to me and Grandpa. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”

  “He’s drunk,” Grandpa said flatly.

  “I know,” Peyton said. “He’s been struggling. I didn’t realize that he’d been drinking until we were already on our way here.”

  Chad walked in. It was the first time I’d seen him since Sunday, on the steps at the hotel. He looked rough—hair tousled, a couple days’ worth of five-o’clock shadow, eyes red. He met my gaze, mumbled a greeting, then turned to Peyton. “I’m sorry. I should’ve smelled it on him. I’ll take him home.”

  “There’s a ton of people here waiting to meet him,” Peyton said doubtfully, but I could tell she was worried about him actually meeting anyone in this shape.

  “It’s really not good publicity if he’s drunk,” Grandpa said. “We can say he’s not feeling well. People will understand. They have you.”

  “And we don’t want there to be fallout for you because he’s drinking too much,” Chad said to Peyton. “I’ll take him back to the boat. Don’t worry about it.” Without giving her a chance to answer, he went over to the couch and grabbed Marco’s arm, hauling him up more roughly than was probably necessary. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where? I just got here.” Marco tried to wrench his arm away, but he lost his balance and almost fell again. Luckily the couch was there so he didn’t hit the ground. I looked away, embarrassed for him.

  “You’re causing a scene and we’re going. Come on.” Chad jerked him back to his feet and dragged him to the door. But Marco was surprisingly quick for someone so drunk. He wound up and clocked Chad on the side of the head, not hard, but hard enough that he yelped and let go.

  “Whatsa matter?” Marco jeered at him. “Am I ruining your perfect image? Or hers? Lemme tell you, none of our images are lookin’ good these days.”

  Chad angrily advanced on Marco. Grandpa stepped in front of him. “Not here,” he said, and in an instant I could see how formidable he’d been in his prime.

  Chad glared at both of them. “Come on. I’m taking you back,” he said to Marco, grabbing his arm again.

  Marco tried to wrench free, but Grandpa took his other arm and said something to him that I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was seemed to calm him down and Grandpa patted him on the back, then they both led him outside.

  “What did you say to him?” I asked Grandpa when he returned.

  Grandpa shrugged. “That if he went quietly and slept it off, he could come here and stay for a few nights when he felt better. That I’d make it a B&B just for him.”

  Chapter 36

  Peyton was clearly bothered by Marco’s drunken show, even when Chad returned and assured her he was sleeping it off, but she covered it with grace as soon as we opened the doors to her clamoring fans.
I was kind of worried that it would be too much for her solo, but she was in her element once she started meeting people. And Val helped her handlers move everyone through with no-nonsense precision. I could see why she was good at this event planning stuff.

  At the front of the line was our very own Leopard Man. He was decked out in full leopard gear and tail today. His girlfriend, Ellen, accompanied him. “Peyton’s my favorite,” he confided in me. “And my love here is worried I’ll run off with her.”

  Ellen laughed, but I noticed how tight she held on to Leopard Man’s arm. Their relationship was fairly new, but I thought it was adorable. Since I was a child, Leopard Man was an enigma on the island, between his unique clothing style and his penchant for speaking mainly in Shakespeare. When we learned his true identity last year—including that his name was actually Carl, which I didn’t think fit him at all—it was finally an opportunity for him to let people in a bit more, even though he was still quite intent on preserving both his privacy and his eclectic status. “I’m not worried,” she said. “You wouldn’t get very far very fast on that giant boat.”

  I laughed. “True story. Oh, you should talk to Val,” I told him. “She has a job for you at our fundraiser on Saturday.” As far as I knew, Val was still looking for Leopard Man to be auctioneer, even with the limited live items we were planning to have.

  “Lovely,” he said. “‘How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.’”

  “Merchant of Venice!” I said, snapping my fingers.

  “Very good,” he said.

  I’d gotten rusty on my Shakespeare after I left college, but I needed Leopard Man to know that I could keep up with his literary references, so I’d had to brush up. I would say I got three out of five references.

  “I’m always happy to do a good deed for the cats,” he said. “And Peyton Chandler, well, she’s the icing on the cake.” He winked at Ellen. She slapped his arm.