Claws for Alarm

by Cate Conte

  “I’ll make sure you get some special attention,” I told them, and went off to tell the handlers.

  Five hours later, we saw the last guests out and locked the café doors behind them. The kittens were the last ones standing—the rest of the cats had all gone to their preferred hiding spots after the first few hours. While we’d kept the amount of people in the café at one time manageable, the traffic had been steady the entire time. The good news, however, was plentiful: my shop shelves were empty, we’d gotten sponsors for all the cats with a waiting list to sponsor the next arrivals, and we’d collected more than two thousand dollars in spontaneous donations. Five cats had adoption applications. Our event was officially sold out, including the extra tables Val had added on the fly this morning, and Leopard Man was looking forward to being our auctioneer.

  And I was exhausted.

  “Would you like any coffee, or iced tea or something?” Grandpa asked Peyton, who was on the couch snuggling Ashley. “You were a trooper today.”

  “Please. I love this stuff,” Peyton smiled. “I’ll have to pass on the iced tea, though. I should go see how Marco is doing.”

  “I’m sure he’s sound asleep,” Chad muttered. “Either that or he went out on another bender.”

  Peyton gave him a filthy look.

  “I hope he’s feeling better,” I said brightly. “Give him our best. And thank you so much for today.”

  “It was a huge hit, right? I’m so glad we’ve got a full slate of guests for our event.”

  “We are too,” Val said. “Busy week, but it’s all coming together.”

  “Excellent.” Peyton stood, reluctantly letting Ashley go. “Oh, and by the way. I’d like to adopt Ashley. That is, if she didn’t find her home today.” She looked at me hopefully.

  I found myself hesitating, for just a second. A couple days ago, I wanted nothing more than for this celebrity to adopt one of our cats. But I couldn’t shake that reporter’s question from my mind. And not knowing the answer was giving me pause.

  I smiled. “I had someone who inquired about her, but nothing is final yet. If they don’t come back by tomorrow, we can do the paperwork.”

  “Amazing.” Peyton clapped her hands together, much like a little kid. “I can pick her up Sunday before we leave.”

  “Lovely.” I took a deep breath. “Peyton, the other day, the tabloids were here. Waiting in the yard when I got home.”

  “Oh, my. I’m so sorry,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. “It’s all our fault.”

  “No, not at all. We got rid of them, but one of them asked me an odd question. They asked me to confirm if the rumor about your cat was true.” I paused. Chad, who had been gazing out the window, snapped to attention. “Do you know what they were talking about?”

  Peyton’s face went dark. In the moment it took her to regain her composure, Chad snapped at me. “Why were you talking to them anyway? You have no authority to speak on her behalf.”

  “Watch it,” Grandpa said, before I could even respond. “They accosted her, not the other way around.”

  “Chad, please,” Peyton said, before turning to me. “I don’t have a clue what she meant,” she said with a little laugh, but it sounded forced. “Those people make their living on making things up. I’m so sorry they bothered you, Maddie.” She glanced at her watch. “We should go.”

  Chad hustled her out to her car.

  I looked at Grandpa. “What do you think of that?”

  “No idea,” he said thoughtfully. “But her people are certainly protective of her. What do you think it meant?”

  “I wish I knew.” I went out to the café. Ethan, Lucas, and my mom looked as exhausted as I felt, but they also looked happy. “We sold out of everything,” my mother said triumphantly. “Pastries, yogurt parfaits, sandwiches. The coffee is also running pretty low. We had to make a new pot every hour!”

  “That’s awesome,” I said. “We also sold out the event.”

  My mother jumped up and hugged me with a squeal. “That’s so great, honey.”

  “You’re kidding! Way to go, babe. I’d kiss you but I’m too tired to get up,” Lucas said. “I haven’t worked this hard in years.”

  “Sorry about that, man,” Ethan said. “Congrats, Maddie.”

  “Yeah, Val is psyched.” I glanced down at my phone as it started buzzing on the table. Damian. I picked up. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you for the meet and greet,” I started, but he cut me off.

  “The cops are at my place.”

  “Why? Are you okay?”

  “I am. But someone’s not. They found someone hurt out on my beach.”

  Damian’s place backed up against the water near the ferry docks. There was a small area down there to sit, along with a path you could walk along the water that started all the way at the other end of our street. “What do you mean, found someone?” I asked, jumping to my feet.

  “A guy walking along the water found someone unconscious down there and called the cops. But Maddie, it’s not just anyone. It’s Marco Moore. And it looks like he didn’t just pass out. They think someone assaulted him.”

  Chapter 37

  Ten minutes later I was inside Damian’s place, watching the cops milling around down on the little beach. Marco Moore had, in fact, been the guy unconscious on the beach and had been transported to the hospital. I imagined my dad’s day had just gotten complicated. Luckily, he’d been alive, but pretty badly hurt. He had been hit over the head and left there.

  “Do they have any idea how long he was out there?” I asked Damian.

  Damian shook his head. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. Just asked if I saw anyone down there. I hadn’t—it’s been a busy day. My staff either. None of us have had time to go to the bathroom, never mind take a walk on the beach.”

  I stared outside. I didn’t see Craig or Ellory out there, or I would’ve gone down to ask them. I wondered how long after Marco went back to the boat that he’d wandered out here. Had he randomly picked a fight with someone? Had someone recognized him and tried to get his autograph and he’d lost it? He hadn’t been a happy drunk, from what I’d seen this morning.

  Or had Chad dropped him off on the beach and hit him over the head on the way back? I tried to shake off that dark thought, but couldn’t. What if this was related to Jillian’s murder? If it was, that meant it sure hadn’t been Mish.

  I grabbed my phone and texted Craig.

  The assault down by Damian’s. What do you know about it?

  He texted back immediately.

  Not much. Guy had a decent head injury when they found him. Unconscious and taken to the hospital. May need to be airlifted to Mass General.

  You think it’s connected to the murder?

  Silence. Then again, he couldn’t say yes without admitting they might have the wrong person in custody. I got back in Grandma’s car and called my dad. “What’s going on over there?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Crazy day. I’m assuming you know and that’s why you’re asking? Your actor friend?”

  “Yeah. How is he?”

  “Still unconscious.”

  “Will he be okay? Are they keeping him there or moving him?”

  “Maddie. You remember a little thing called HIPAA?”

  I sighed. “I just want to know if he’s going to be okay.”

  “Well, you aren’t a relative.”

  “Do you know if anyone is there with him?”

  “His girlfriend. The other actor,” my dad said. “We had to give him a private room and clear the floor. She requested police as well. It’s creating a bit of a stir, if you can imagine.”

  “I can. Hey, Dad. There’s a nurse who works there. A guy named Adam.”

  My dad waited. “Okay. There are a lot of nurses here, Maddie.”

  “I know, but I need to know if he’s working today. Any way you can find out for me? Please?”

  “I’m not even going to ask why. Give me a bit, Madalyn. I’ll try to find out and ca
ll you back.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. Love you.” I hung up and leaned back in the seat. I wanted to text Peyton but I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t want to pretend I knew them well enough to invade their privacy during such a terrible time. I wondered if Peyton would pull him out of the hospital. With their money, Peyton could afford to put up a whole team of private doctors on her boat. That way they could get out of here.

  But my mind kept wandering back to that dark place and taking it a step further. What if Peyton and Chad were in on this together? What if they both knew Marco’s patience for the whole charade of their “relationship” was wearing thin—it had certainly seemed that way to me the other day—and they decided he’d become a liability? Did Peyton believe in Chad enough to let him completely drive her life this way? And what did that mean about Jillian? Had they conspired together to kill her too? But where did she fit in?

  I couldn’t figure out how Peyton felt about Chad. Either she felt obligated to stay as his client because of what he “had” on her, or it could be kind of like the whole Stockholm syndrome thing, where she actually felt a connection to him. If so, could she be orchestrating this whole thing and using him to do the dirty work? Had he convinced her Jillian was the mastermind and Marco was unreliable, and convinced her she needed to get rid of them?

  Maddie. Those are awful thoughts, I chided myself. What if it was as simple as, something had happened with Adam and Marco? Maybe they’d met down by the water and had an argument. I was certain that the way they were living had to be stressful for both of them. Maybe Marco had come across Adam with some other guy and a fight ensued. After all, Chad had returned pretty quickly from dropping Marco off. Would he have had enough time to take him to the beach, clock him, clean off his shoes, and come back to the event?

  Impatiently I checked my phone. It shouldn’t take my dad that long to find out if someone on his staff was working, should it? I guess if you were the CEO, though, you didn’t really get into nurse schedules.

  I leaned back against the seat and opened Instagram. Impulsively I typed in Jillian Allen’s name. I’d been meaning to look up her social accounts all week, but there had been so much going on. I found her right away. Her profile picture showed her in one of her fancy outfits, laughing at someone off camera. Probably at some League event. I scrolled the photos. Mostly they were of her with well-dressed people at seemingly fancy events. None of her with animals. I checked Facebook, but her account was locked down to the public. I was trying to think where to look next when my phone rang in my hand. My dad.

  I answered it eagerly.

  “Adam DeSantis,” he said without preamble. “He’s the only nurse named Adam on the payroll. He is off today.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I said, blew him a kiss through the phone, then hung up and googled Adam DeSantis.

  * * *

  Adam DeSantis, according to WhitePages.com, lived in a small house downtown on Mulberry Street. It was close enough that he could walk anywhere worth getting, but far enough removed from the action that he wouldn’t hear every party that was going on. His little yellow house was cute, with rose bushes out front and a purple front door. I didn’t see his motorcycle in the driveway. He also didn’t appear to have a garage. The house was also super close to his neighbors on both sides. The older gentleman who lived to the right sat out on his stoop and glanced at me curiously when I walked up. I smiled in what I hoped was a nonchalant fashion and rang the doorbell.

  Silence from inside. I tried to peer into the little side window without actually looking like that’s what I was doing when the guy next door called over.

  “He’s not home.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Any idea where he is?”

  The guy shrugged. “He has Thursdays off. I would try Shady’s Tavern.”

  The motorcycle bar. Made sense for a Harley guy. That was the place where all the local bikers hung out. I thanked the neighbor and hurried back to my car.

  Shady’s Tavern had lived on Bicycle Street for fifty-plus years, down at the less-fancy end. I pulled up out front and found a parking spot a ways down the street. All the front spots were taken up by motorcycles. I scanned them for Adam’s, but really I couldn’t tell the difference. I hadn’t gotten the best look at his, given that I’d been too busy face-planting in the beach parking lot when I’d seen it.

  I pushed the door open and went inside. It had a typical biker bar feel—dark, boozy, rock music. I paused, letting my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. There were about twenty people or so in there, scattered between the bar and the tables. It was early still—barely five—so that wasn’t unexpected. I didn’t see Adam at the tables, so I headed to the bar.

  The bartender, a guy with a beard that grazed his chest, biceps the size of watermelons, and a receding hairline, gave me a long look as I approached. “Help you?” he said warily.

  I recognized him. Grandpa knew him. Which wasn’t notable in and of itself because Grandpa knew everyone on this island for the most part, but because Grandpa had brought me and Val in here in the past. He’d wanted his girls to be exposed to all kinds of environments and not have that fear-based reaction that so many people were taught about various groups. I knew for a fact he’d been more comfortable with the bikers than some of the allegedly upstanding businessmen on the island. Thankfully I had a good memory for names.

  I smiled. “You’re Ax, right?”

  He cocked his head at me, trying to place me, clearly wondering how I knew his name. “Who’s asking?”

  “Maddie James. Chief Leo’s granddaughter.”

  Now his eyes widened and he broke into a giant smile. I thought he was going to jump over the bar and hug me. “Maddie! You’re all grown up! Where’s the chief? He with you?” He scanned the room over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not today. But he’s doing well and I’ll tell him you said hi.”

  “So what can I do for you? Here for a drink? Whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for someone.” I slid onto a stool. “Adam DeSantis?”

  “You’ve come to the right place. He’s here most nights.” He glanced at his watch. “Unless he’s with that boyfriend of his.” He winked at me.

  My eyes popped. “You know about him?”

  Ax shrugged. “Sure. This is the only place they can really go without worrying about exposing him.” He used air quotes around the word, punctuated by an eye roll. “You ask me, no one gives a crap, but to each his own. Maybe it makes everything more exciting.”

  “Is Adam here now?”

  “He was. He got a text message a while ago and took off like someone was chasing him. Hope he’s all right.”

  “Had he been here long?” I asked casually. Although the point was likely moot. I had no idea how long Marco had been down on that beach unconscious. He could’ve easily come here after the altercation for an alibi, maybe had someone text him to pretend he’d gotten the emergency call.

  But my gut instinct really wasn’t feeling it. If he’d legit gotten a text that had spooked him, someone had told him about Marco. Maybe Peyton had texted him.

  “He was here since about two. He didn’t have a lot to drink, though. Just a burger and a beer. Mostly he was just hanging, watching the baseball game.”

  “Thanks, Ax. Hey, if he happens to come back here tonight, can you tell him I’m looking for him? I can leave you my number.”

  “Sure. For the chief’s granddaughter? Anything.” He pulled out a notepad that had drops of what appeared to be lemon juice on it and posed his pen over a clean page. I recited the number.

  “Got it. I’ll be on the lookout.”

  As I turned to go, he called me back. “Send Leo down for a drink one of these days, would you? It’s been way too long.”

  I promised I would, then turned and headed back to my car. If Adam had heard about Marco, chances were he’d gone straight to the hospital.

  Chapter 38

&nbs
p; I called Lucas on my way over to the hospital.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I told him about Marco. “He’s at the hospital. I’m going over there now.”

  “You think they’re going to let you in?” He sounded doubtful.

  “Of course I do. I’m going to shamelessly use my dad’s position if anyone gives me a hard time.”

  Lucas sighed. “You need to be careful, Maddie.”

  “I will. But I really need to know if this is related to Jillian, or if it had something to do with Marco’s mood earlier today.”

  “But if he was that drunk and went back to the boat, how did he get over to Damian’s?”

  “No idea. Unless he took a nap, then went out for some food and found himself some trouble. Either way I’ll let you know what I find out. Hey, can you give JJ his dinner?”

  Lucas promised to, and I hung up. Becky was texting me but it would have to wait.

  I drove around the back of the hospital and parked, then hurried to the special entrance that led to the administrative offices. When I burst through the door of my dad’s office, his longtime assistant Anne Marie looked up and broke into a smile.

  “Well hello there!” she exclaimed, coming over to wrap me in a hug. “It’s been way too long!”

  I squeezed her back. “So good to see you too.”

  “You’re looking for your daddy?”

  I nodded.

  “He went downstairs for the press conference.”

  “Press conference?”

  Anne Marie nodded. “That poor handsome actor who’s down on the fifth floor. The media got wind of it and it’s been a little busy around here.” Despite this, Anne Marie looked like she was enjoying the action.

  “Fifth floor, huh?” I said. “Listen Annie, I need to go down there and see him. Can I get through?”

  “Of course you can. If anyone gives you a hard time you tell them to call me.” She puffed out her chest importantly. I didn’t doubt her. Anne Marie held as much clout as my dad around here, if not more. That’s what happened when you were the CEO’s right hand for so many years. She worked not just with my dad, but with multiple CEOs. No one questioned Anne Marie.