Cat Got Your Tongue (The 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Louise Clark

  Christy sighed. "Fruitless. The apartment wasn't big enough. There was no terrace, or even a balcony. The building wasn't in the right part of town. The security was good, but not enough. She'd never use the rooftop garden and it was just an added expense that would bring her condo fees up."

  "In other words," Quinn said, "it was the same problem as all the other places she's looked at. It isn't the condo she currently owns."

  "I don't think she's ever going to move out," Christy said. Her forehead puckered in a frown. "Sometimes I'm glad she's living with us. But others? She needs her own place."

  They reached the top of the street and turned toward the path. Out of sight of both of their houses, Quinn squeezed her hand, then let go so he could slip his arm around her waist and pull her close. Christy slid her arm around him so they were linked securely together. She put her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the soft cotton of his ribbed sweater against her cheek and the masculine scent that was all his own. "Ellen's not talking to me."

  "What did you do? Tell her a few hard facts about house hunting?"

  "No. She wants us to investigate the death of that poor girl who was our suite attendant at the concert." She wasn't surprised when Quinn tensed. "Apparently, she knows the girl's grandmother. What's worse is that the grandmother was one of the people who's been supportive toward Ellen since the arrest. She feels obligated."

  "Hell," Quinn said.

  As they walked, the vegetation thickened around them. The deciduous trees were in full bud, some with delicate new leaves already showing. Bright green growth showed on the pine trees. Despite the gray sky that suggested it would soon rain, the woodland felt alive with promise.

  "Yeah." Christy lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. "I told her I wouldn't do it, Quinn. That's why Ellen's so mad at me." She put her head back against his shoulder and sighed. "I feel sorry for the family. I do." She shivered and Quinn hugged her tighter.

  "We're going away," Quinn said. "We don't have time. Sounds cold, but—"

  Christy straightened. "I said the same thing to Ellen. I also told her Noelle would be home next week and I wanted to spend time with her." She drew a deep breath. "Then there's Joan Shively. I didn't mention her, but Ellen knows the score with Shively and child services. Things have been quiet since Christmas and she's backed off. I'm not going to risk her putting my file back on her active supervision list."

  "I have to get the edits on my book finished before we go. The publisher has fast tracked it. If I miss my deadline, they miss theirs and then they miss their pub date."

  "Exactly! So why do I feel so guilty?" Christy asked.

  "Same reason I do," Quinn said. They came to the point where the path forked and took the branch that led toward the school. Reluctantly, Quinn dropped his arm from her waist and instead took her hand. He said, "I had a meeting with Sledge and his manager that went much the same way your conversation with Ellen did."

  Christy looked over at him. She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

  "They wanted me to investigate the murder, too."

  "Why?"

  "The cops are looking at Kyle Gowdy, Hammer's brother, for the deed, so Hammer's freaking out. Vince is worried about the optics. Hammer swears his brother couldn't be guilty, but what if he's arrested? Hammer would then be closely related to the murderer of a young woman who was the age of many of their fans."

  "Tainted by association," Christy murmured. She knew all about that. It had been a big part of her life for most of the previous year. "What did you say?"

  "Same thing you said to Ellen. No. I suggested Sledge talk to his dad. I'm sure Trevor can find him a good PI to work the case."

  "A private investigator," Christy said. "That's a good idea. I'll suggest it to Ellen if she brings up the issue again." A rueful smile curled her lips. "And she probably will. She doesn't like to be thwarted."

  They walked in silence for a minute, then Christy asked, "Is it bad of me to not want to get involved in this? It's been so peaceful since Christmas."

  They were almost at the school, but still within the shadow of the trees. Quinn stopped and pulled her to one side of the path. He lifted his hand to brush the hair back from her temple. She looked up at him and smiled. The gesture was tender, the expression on his face determined.

  "You've got every right to want to steer clear," he said. "So do I." A smile twitched his lips. "We'll stick together and it'll be okay."

  She nodded. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. She kissed him back. She wished they could do more than share the light caress, but the path was hardly private at this time of the day, and she had her reputation to consider.

  When the school bell rang, the kids exploded from their classrooms with the joyous energy that only the anticipation of a holiday could bring. Christy had agreed to pick up Noelle's best friend, Mary Petrofsky, when she collected Noelle. Now the two girls skipped ahead, chattering non-stop all the way home. With every step Christy's mood improved as she caught some of their good spirits. Quinn seemed to be in a better humor as well, but as they neared home she saw Ellen standing outside the house, and her mood tanked again.

  "Now what?" Quinn asked, beside her.

  "Aunt Ellen! Roy! Mr. Three! It's Spring Break. I'm going to Disneyland!" Noelle shrieked as she neared the little group huddled there, waiting.

  Waiting for her and Quinn to get home, Christy thought grimly.

  Roy grinned at Noelle's pronouncement. His long iron gray hair was escaping from the tie that kept it bound at the back of his neck and he was wearing his favorite jeans and a casual front button shirt.

  Ellen, now dressed in an expensive pair of tailored black slacks topped by a silk blouse, said sternly, "There's no need to raise your voice, Noelle. We were close enough to hear a proper voice."

  Feeling grumpy, Christy muttered to Quinn, "Give the kid a break. She's excited."

  Quinn laughed.

  Trevor McCullagh, also know by the nickname Three, said to Noelle, "Hope Disneyland wasn't supposed to be a secret."

  Noelle came to an abrupt stop in front of him, Mary beside her. The two girls stared up at him. Taking his comment seriously, Noelle said, "Roy knows, because Quinn's coming with us."

  "Guess it's not a secret then," Trevor said, eyes twinkling.

  Noelle nodded. "We don't go till the week after next so Mom's going to take Mary and me swimming."

  "And to Science World," Mary said.

  Noelle nodded. "And skating."

  Mary nodded.

  "We've got lots planned," Christy said, as she and Quinn came up to the others. "Lots of time to sleep in and find fun things to do together."

  "Yeah!" shouted Noelle and Mary together.

  Christy looked at Ellen. "Is the door unlocked?"

  Ellen nodded. Christy ruffled Noelle's hair and said, "Why don't you girls go inside and put away your backpacks? I'll be in soon and make you a snack."

  "Okay, Mom." Noelle looked over at her friend. "Race you!"

  They took off, pounding up the stairs and bursting through the door. Before it had even slammed shut behind them, Quinn said, "Christy and I are not going to investigate the murder."

  The other three exchanged glances. It was Roy who answered for them. "Didn't expect you would. That's why Three, Ellen, and I decided to take it on."

  Chapter 7

  Trevor thought they should have a conference that included all the interested parties before Quinn and Christy went away. Saturday was the perfect day, since Rebecca Petrofsky was taking Noelle and Mary swimming in the afternoon, then Noelle was staying for dinner and a sleep over that night. Sledge wanted Hammer included in the discussion, as well as the Burnaby contingent, so Trevor had arranged to have the meeting at Sledge's West Vancouver home.

  The house was perched high on the slopes of Cypress Mountain, a modern glass and steel mansion with large grounds and a multi-million dollar panoramic view that included English Bay with Point Grey bey
ond to the south, the city of Vancouver to the east and Vancouver Island to the west. Access was at the end of a steep, curving road with only a sprinkling of expensive houses. In the winter, when snow fell on the higher altitudes of the North Shore Mountains, the road would be a slip-sliding nightmare, but now, when the daffodils were showing their bright heads and the cherry trees were in bloom, the street was simply beautiful.

  Sledge answered the door on Trevor's ring. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that advertised a brand of vodka made by one of the sponsors of SledgeHammer's recent tour. His hair was mussed and his expression was grim. "Hi, Dad," he said. As he ushered the Burnaby contingent in, he added, "Thanks for coming."

  The interior of Sledge's house was as spectacular as its view. The house hugged the contours of the mountain, so the entry was a gallery that overlooked the living space a level below. Floor to ceiling windows rose high in the great room and provided a view for both the entry level and the main floor.

  After he greeted everyone, Sledge said, "Hammer's downstairs." He headed for the curving staircase that descended to the living area. Christy, Quinn, Ellen and Roy trailed behind. "He's freaking out," Sledge said, glancing over his shoulder. "He figures Kyle is in serious sh—" He looked at Ellen, then swallowed the word that hovered on his tongue, substituting, "trouble."

  Ellen didn't cut him any slack. She raised her eyebrows pointedly and said in austere tones, "Is his brother here today?"

  Sledge glanced from Ellen to his father, who was frowning. Christy well knew that Ellen considered sloppy language an indication of poor breeding. Her experience also told her that when you dealt with Ellen Jamieson you watched your mouth or else. Evidently, Ellen had either converted Trevor to her viewpoint or he'd already been there.

  With a shrug and a shake of his head, Sledge said, "Hammer and I decided it would be best if we didn't tell Kyle what we're doing until we were sure it was going to work."

  "I see," Ellen said, tone now arctic. "You don't think we can succeed. If Quinn and Christy had agreed to investigate would you have been more positive?"

  The cat poked his head out from inside Christy's tote where she'd been carrying him. Jeeze, Aunt Ellen, this is Sledge! Take a break and give the guy some breathing room.

  Ellen gave no indication she'd noticed anything, but Sledge paused. His brows lowered into a frown as he narrowed his eyes and looked around. He swallowed hard then said, "Lady, I'm hoping you guys will come up with something, but I'm not holding my breath."

  "You may be surprised," Ellen said, still disapproving.

  "Do you mind that I brought my cat?" Christy said, thinking it was high time someone besides Frank wrestled the limelight from Ellen. "Trevor said you liked cats and he thought it would be okay, but I can leave him in the car if you'd prefer."

  Great. You wouldn't take me to the concert and now you're going to dump me in the car. Talk about being marginalized.

  Sledge stopped at the top of the stairs and stared. There was a distinct pallor to his skin and he looked worried. Stormy lifted one paw to the edge of Christy's tote and then another so that his shoulders as well as his head were showing. Sledge's gaze fixed on the cat and his frown deepened.

  Roy's eyebrows rose. "I think you and Sledge need to have a talk, Three. The rest of us can go down and say hello to Hammer."

  The cat wiggled his way out of the bag and out of Christy's hold. He leapt to the floor. I'll come too. He strutted forward, tail straight up and waving like a plume behind him.

  Sledge's eyes were wide now, his expression incredulous. "What the hell!"

  Ellen made a disapproving sound in her throat. Roy took her arm and led her to the stairs as Trevor urged Sledge and the cat toward another wing of the house for their private talk. Quinn caught Christy's hand, slowing her so that Roy and Ellen moved ahead. He said in a low voice, "Am I guessing right? Sledge can hear the cat, too?"

  "Looks like it," Christy said. She added thoughtfully, "I wonder why?"

  "It's Frank," Quinn said wrathfully. "He's excluding me deliberately."

  Christy shot him a mischievous look. "Since Aunt Ellen also can't hear him, I think you're probably right. I wonder if Hammer will be able to hear him, too?"

  But later, when Trevor, Sledge, and the cat had rejoined the others, it became clear that like Quinn and Ellen, Hammer was deaf to Frank's comments.

  The furniture in Sledge's great room was positioned to take advantage of the wonderful view. At first Christy found it distracting, but as they got down to business she was surprised how quickly her mind tuned it out.

  Ellen began the discussions. "While I know you are concerned for your brother, Mr. Gowdy, my concern is for the murdered girl's family. I want to find Chelsea's killer and bring the Sawatzkys peace of mind."

  "It wasn't my brother," Hammer said. His dark eyes were narrowed and his expression defiant. He was a big, muscular man with a broad chest and bulging biceps from years pounding a drum kit. Like Sledge, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, only his was a blaze of white against his dark skin.

  "We'll start with that assumption," Trevor said, breaking in before Ellen, who was frowning, said something more provocative and Hammer responded. "Before we start considering who might have had the opportunity and motive, can you tell us why the police have focused on your brother?"

  "Apparently, he doesn't have an alibi for the time of the murder," Hammer said.

  Christy frowned. "How can that be? When the concert ended we all went down to the meet and greet together."

  Quinn shook his head. "We left the box in dribs and drabs. I think Hammer's mom and dad left first. You and I were somewhere in the middle. We waited outside for my dad and Trevor and Ellen, then we all went down together."

  "You're right." She turned to Hammer. "What does Kyle say about where he was?"

  "My parents went first," Hammer said, with a nod to Quinn. "They took Kristine, Kyle's wife, and Jahlina, my girlfriend, along with them. Kyle stayed behind to use the bathroom in the suite, but there was a line up, so he decided to find a public one on the way down. He said that before he left Chelsea was still cleaning up in the box. She asked him if he'd had a good time and they had a little chat about what it was like to be my brother. She was still in the box when he headed back stage."

  "When he left the box was there anyone else in the corridor outside?" Trevor asked.

  Hammer paused to think. "Yeah, there must have been. He said there was a security guard at the top of the staircase." The security guards stayed at the exits until the arena crowd had cleared.

  "Did he happen to stop and talk to the fellow?" Trevor didn't sound hopeful.

  "Naw. He said he didn't speak to anybody. He just went along with the rest of the crowd headed down the stairs."

  "Ah," said Trevor. "So there were people around. Trouble is, a crowd is anonymous. That's why the cops haven't ruled him out. But there's got to be something more they've got on him. Any idea what?"

  Hammer shifted on his seat. "He's got a record," he said, after a charged moment. "He was convicted of assaulting a girl when he was fifteen."

  "He was a juvenile, then," Quinn said. Hammer nodded. "What exactly happened?"

  "We lived in a rough neighborhood. The girls were as tough as the boys. She hung around with a guy who was a small-time pusher. Kyle didn't do drugs, so she was always taunting him. She'd sidle in close and get in his face, then call him a chicken. One day she upped the ante and spat on him." Hammer shrugged. "He lost it and gave her a shove. She ended up on her ass in a puddle and all the guys laughed. She went to the cops and made a complaint against him. He pleaded guilty. His punishment was an anger management course and community service."

  "So his case never went up to adult court?" Quinn asked.

  Hammer shook his head. "No. It was strictly juvenile. That was part of the reason his lawyer suggested he plead guilty. It stayed in juvenile court."

  "It was a long time ago. His record would have been sealed," Trevor
said, frowning. "How would the cops know the details before he'd been charged?"

  "Beats me," Hammer said.

  "Someone told them," Roy said. "Got any idea of who that might be?"

  Again, Hammer shook his head.

  Roy rubbed his chin. "Okay. Three, you want to take that? See what you can pull out of the cops?"

  Trevor nodded.

  "Ellen, you know the girl's family. Can you tell us about her?" Roy had evidently decided he'd be the manager of the project. He was busy writing in a small notebook he'd produced from a pocket.

  "Her family is well-to-do," Ellen said. She spoke slowly, as if she was gathering her thoughts as she went. "She was a student at English Bay University. She didn't have to work—her parents would have been happy to pay for all her expenses, but Charlotte, her grandmother, said she was an independent child. She insisted on getting a job and paying her own way. Or at least contributing. As a suite attendant at the arena she got good tips, so she only had to take two or three shifts a week to make a pretty good weekly salary. She was proud of being able to work and study at the same time, so her parents didn't pressure her to quit. Now, of course they wish they had."

  She paused and in the silence that followed everyone reflected on her last gloomy observation. The quiet was broken by thumps from the gallery above. Christy looked up, but the half-wall that guarded the edge meant it was impossible to see what was causing the sound. The thumps became a steady thud, followed by the sound of scrambling paws. Suddenly, a bright yellow ball appeared on the staircase, bouncing ever more swiftly down the stairs as it gained momentum. It was followed by Stormy, slip-sliding down the uncarpeted hardwood steps. The ball reached the floor and rolled majestically toward the windows, the cat in full pursuit. It dribbled to a stop in front of Sledge's feet. Stormy landed on top of it, grabbed it with his front paws, rolled onto his back and prepared to shred it with his hind claws.

  "No, you don't," said Sledge. He bent down, tickled the cat under his chin, then grabbed the ball. "This is my favorite stress ball and I don't mind you playing with it, but I don't want you destroying it." He tossed it up in the air, a bright sunny orb with a smiley face painted into it. Stormy's green eyes followed it up, then down and up again. Suddenly Sledge tossed the ball toward the staircase in a throw worthy of a minor league pitcher. There was a moment when Stormy stood frozen, then he dove headlong after the ball. He skidded along the gleaming walnut floor, all four paws scrambling for purchase as he neared the staircase. The ball landed four steps up, then bounced slowly down again. As the ball reached the bottom of the staircase, Stormy leapt, caught it in his teeth, and landed with perfect cat poise, ready to move. He turned, cast a furtive glance at Sledge, and slunk, mouth full of prize, underneath the staircase and out of sight.