“I’m afraid so,” I replied. “This is another fine mess I’ve got you into, isn’t it? I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be. Max also insists that you drop everything and make sure you learn all there is to know about Melody’s experience as an employee of Marvelous Marley World. He says you’ll have better luck than he or the police will have when it comes to getting information from the staff in HR and Melody’s co-workers. You’re to ‘step in immediately and do what you can to solve this dreadful situation!’” Jack pointed a finger to the sky for emphasis as Max does.
“Good grief! Doesn’t he understand I already have a job?”
“Welcome to my world,” Jack commented as he slumped back into his chair and gazed out at the horizon. The Pacific Ocean sparkled in the distance as if we were happy-go-lucky members of a diamond-studded paradise.
“I’m going to have to retire if it gets around that my wife’s boss is calling the shots about the cases I’m assigned. That would be too bad since I’ve finally quit getting ribbed about the picture someone posted on the bulletin board of us at a charity gala with me in a tux.”
“At least they didn’t call us Mr. and Mrs. Shaw in the caption on the photo,” I teased. “Besides, you were so handsome in that photo, you’ve forever changed the view of police detectives as frumpy Columbos wearing dirty, wrinkled trench coats.”
“Please, don’t remind me. You can imagine how thrilled my coworkers were that I was described as ‘more James Garner than Peter Faulk’ in the article. At least Columbo was a cop. Jim Rockford was a P.I.”
“Rockford did clean up well even though he was dressed for the beach most of the time. He was a good P.I., right?”
“I barely remember the series. Apparently, James Garner is more memorable to women.”
“I hate to admit it, but Max is right that he’ll have trouble getting the unbridled truth about Melody,” I said, figuring it was time to shift to a different topic. “If the HR staff are aware that the king of the realm held her in high regard, no one will want to be the bearer of bad news.”
“True. He’s already ‘heard upsetting gossip about the young woman who hasn’t yet been dead for twenty-four hours.’ By upsetting gossip, he means the fact that Melody had a police record, which isn’t gossip. Don’t ask me how Max heard about it since Doug hasn’t interviewed him yet.”
“I’ll bet he’s not happy about that either since I heard you tell him how high on the list he must be,” I said wearily. “I should call Carol and let her know gathering gossip and bearing bad news to the boss have been added to my job description. Not that I haven’t willingly engaged in snooping-related tasks in the past.”
“Don’t do it today. Give her a day off. You can use more recovery time too. Call her tomorrow or break it to her when you get to work Monday morning. I’m grateful to hear your reluctance. So grateful that I’m not even going to warn you to back off the minute you feel uneasy. Trust yourself—you’re as sensitive as those cats when you need to be.”
“Don’t worry. All I need is to get popped in the nose by whoever may have beaten Melody senseless before strangling her. My nose is one of the few places on my body that isn’t sore.”
“Good!” Jack responded. When I did a double-take and frowned, he spoke again. “I don’t mean it’s good that you’re hurting. I’m glad you’re in no hurry to have anyone mess up your adorable nose.”
When Jack leaned over and gave my nose a little kiss, I smiled.
“I don’t hurt here either,” I said, pointing to my forehead. As I’d hoped, that earned me another kiss. Then I pointed to my lips. “Or here.”
For a few moments, we said nothing. Still shy of our first year of marriage by several weeks, it was a joy to be caught up in the miracle of finding each other in midlife. Love is like a clean breeze that sweeps away all the sad, tawdry, painful parts of being human.
Even the love for a big-mouthed cat, I thought as Miles moaned sadly.
“Miles can’t stand to be left out when there’s smooching going on,” I sighed.
“He’s been a good sport this morning,” Jack said.
“You’re the one who’s a good sport. I can’t think of another man who’d put up with the entourage of characters that came with me when we married. Namely Max and Miles, but you’ve been wonderful to Carol and the new man in her life, especially while she stayed with us after her godmother was murdered.”
“That’s because I like Carol and Brett. Max too, when he’s not acting like one of his cartoon characters. Your boss has led an interesting life, and he reminds me of an eccentric uncle when he’s not completely off his rocker.” Miles moaned again.
“I love you and little Ella too, Miles. Almost as much as I love your momma.” Jack scooted back from the table. “Let’s go reassure the kids they’re loved. That reminds me that I haven’t heard back from my busy daughter. Has Beth contacted you to say when she’s going to visit us again?”
“No, but she promised she’d visit before we leave for our anniversary getaway.”
“Ah! Almost a year of wedded bliss. Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Jack asked as he took my dirty plate from my hand and set it back down on the table.
“Yes, it is,” I replied as I hugged him. “Wedded bliss if you leave out the bouts of murder and mayhem. The year has flown by.”
“I’ve got this,” Jack said. I must have flinched as I leaned over to clear the table. “You need to take your time showering and dressing before Kay gets here.”
As we stepped from the patio into the kitchen, we were swarmed by the cats.
*****
When Kay arrived, it was obvious she’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed. There were dark circles under them too as if she hadn’t slept. The weeping might have been for Melody, but not the sleeplessness. Not unless she knew Melody had been murdered before the information was given to her this morning, and she’d pretended to be puzzled when Jack’s officer checked on her. That was an unsettling idea, and I reminded myself, once more, that Melody had still been alive when Kay left for the hotel.
“I’m so sorry to hear what happened to you last night,” Kay said. She rushed inside as soon as I’d opened the door for her. “Are you okay? The police detective told me you were involved in a hit and run accident. I almost fainted before he explained that a burglar knocked you down. That still must have been brutal.”
“Other than scrapes and bruises, I’m fine,” I replied. instantly feeling guilty about my suspicions even though I’d quickly dismissed them. “How about you?”
“I’m not doing well. May I have a glass of wine?” she asked, glancing from me to Jack as I put a hand on her shoulder and shut the door behind her.
“White or red?” Jack asked.
“Whatever you have on hand.”
“Jack ordered lunch from his favorite Italian, restaurant and we have a variety of dishes to choose from. I’m going with the Artichokes Alla Romana, Gnocchi in a sinfully rich sauce, and Braciola, so Jack opened an Italian red that can hold its own with those dishes.”
“I’d love to try the red,” Kay replied.
I’d hoped chatting about food and wine might lighten things up. Kay tried to smile, but clearly, my effort hadn’t helped much. She didn’t say a word as we followed Jack into the kitchen. Her hand shook when she accepted the glass of wine from Jack. Kay hadn’t taken more than a sip or two when Miles bellowed. He caught me off guard, but Kay was so startled she slopped wine on herself.
“I’m so sorry,” I said handing her a napkin to dab at the wine. “This is Miles, who objects to the fact he hasn’t been introduced.”
“That was an impressive note he hit.” When Kay gazed at him, she smiled for the first time since I’d let her in the door. I could almost see his clear blue eyes soothing her. Then Ella peeked around the corner from where she’d hidden behind the kitchen island, and Kay’s tension melted away. “What’s your name, beautiful kitty?”
&n
bsp; “This is Ella,” I said as Ella walked up to Kay, murmuring her approval for the attention.
“Miles and Ella, that’s purrfect,” she said drawing out the ‘r’ in perfect. Both cats were at her feet. When Kay burst into song, Ella darted behind Miles. After a few lines from Some Cats Know, Miles and Ella drew closer. A song with “cats” in the lyrics was fascinating, I guess. No matter that the words were written about hep cats of the human variety.
Then Kay took a couple of steps to her right as she sang, and the cats did too. When she returned to where she’d begun, they moved right with her. Kay glanced at me before walking in a little circle with Miles and Ella staying in step.
“I’m astonished! Aren’t you the most amazing kitties?” Kay declared. “Miles, you’re a dancer as well as a singer.” Miles answered with a low, drawn-out meow, which Ella echoed in her more melodious way. Both cats wrapped themselves around Kay’s legs.
“How did you teach them to dance?” she asked as she squatted to pet them.
“I can’t take the credit,” I replied. “That belongs to Carol, my assistant, who you met last night. I believe turkey treats played a big part in developing their love of the dance.”
“I’m going to tell Max that he’s got to have a scene in his movie featuring ‘jazz cats.’ I’m dancing with Siamese cats or else. That song will work too, although I haven’t thought about it in years.” Her eyes widened as she spotted the food Jack and I had set out.
“That looks and smells delicious. I’m starving. I barely ate for days since I was so nervous about performing. Then when my breakfast arrived this morning, I got the terrible news about Melody.”
“I’m sorry one of us didn’t deliver the news to you. It happened so late last night, and we heard you’d put out a ‘Do Not Disturb sign.’”
“Detective Kingsley explained all that. Fortunately, by the time he got to the punch line, I was already sitting down.” Kay’s hand began to shake again. “It’s my fault.”
“Your fault?” Jack and I asked at the same time.
“Yes, that’s why I wanted to speak to you, Jack. I’m afraid whoever killed Melody meant to kill me.” Kay quit speaking as if a strange spell had come over her. “This just can’t be happening again, can it?”
I don’t believe the question was meant for us. Jack must have thought so too because he remained silent, waiting for her to explain. Kay stared out the sliders at the table on the patio Jack and I had set for lunch.
“I hope it’s okay to sit outside,” I said softly, hoping to bring her back to the present. “If it’s too cool, we can turn on the heater.”
“That’s fine. A view of the ocean would be very calming.” Then Kay abruptly switched the subject. She pulled a piece of paper from a jacket pocket and held it out. I took it and glanced at it before handing it to Jack. A chill zipped down my spine. Typewritten, in bold capital letters, the message was clear.
I WARNED YOU. YOUR COMEBACK IS YOUR SWAN SONG.
7 An Old Refrain
Once I’d passed the paper to Jack, I embraced Kay. She’d paled, began breathing more rapidly, and I was afraid she might faint. I guided her a few steps to a chair in the nearby morning room and made her sit. By then, Jack had grabbed a glass of cold water.
“Drink this,” he insisted. When she’d taken a few sips, she rested her head in both hands. She still hadn’t spoken, so Jack asked her a question. “This is a copy, does that mean you gave the original note to Doug Kingsley?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’d made a copy for him, but he insisted I give him the original note.”
“What did you mean when you said this can’t be happening again?” I asked as gently as I could while examining the paper where I could see the faint edges of the note she’d copied.
“The words are familiar, like an old refrain I’ve heard before,” she whispered. “The main reason I quit performing was because I kept receiving threats like this one. Sometimes the notes included awful criticism of me—my looks, my voice, my treatment of fans—you name it. I was having trouble with my vocal cords, and the comments made me more and more fearful that I’d miss a note, or my voice would crack. Worry and lack of sleep didn’t make me look any better. I began to avoid fans after performances afraid I might offend one of them. I was caught up in a vicious cycle.”
“Did you go to the police?” Jack asked.
“I did, but I had so little to go on. One of the officers I spoke to said that threats and hateful criticism are routine for performers, which I heard as a way of saying ‘buck up.’ My manager agreed with the police officer, but he brought in a couple of big guys to accompany us on the road. That helped, but when I performed, I kept wondering if the creep was in the audience, watching and waiting to hurt me.”
“Did the incidents ever escalate beyond notes?”
“Doug Kingsley, your detective friend, asked me something like that when he dropped by this morning,” Kay replied. “If by that you mean more notes arriving more often, yes. No heavy breathing callers, dead chickens, or voodoo dolls, though.”
Kay’s attempt at a wisecrack fell flat. She sipped water again, and her hand still shook. I covered her other hand and glanced at Jack. He must have recognized that as my “have mercy” glance and nodded.
“Just a couple more questions for now. Then we’ll eat before our food gets cold. After lunch, I’d like to start at the beginning and have you tell us everything you can remember about the previous incidents. I’ll make a few notes of my own, okay?” Jack asked.
“That’s fine,” Kay replied and let out a big sigh of relief. “I’m sorry to be so unsteady. Detective Kingsley’s news about what happened last night after the party was devastating.”
“Did he take a statement from you?” I asked.
“Yes, he asked questions about the times I arrived at the party and left, and he had me describe the evening’s events. When he asked if I knew anyone with a grudge against Melody, I told him I hardly knew the woman and had troubles of my own. That’s when I showed him the note. I also explained that I was having lunch with you and Georgie today to see what you thought I should do since I’d received more than one note after arriving at the hotel. Even when I told him someone had made similar threats in the past, he dismissed the idea that they had any bearing on Melody’s murder, or implied I was the intended victim. Detective Kingsley also informed me that even if the notes and murder are related, you can’t help me since you’re not involved in the murder investigation.”
“That’s what he thinks,” I mumbled under my breath.
“What, Georgie?” Kay asked.
“The two counties often work on cases together,” I replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that happens again.”
“I hope so. No matter what Detective Kingsley believes, now that Melody’s been murdered, I’m scared.” Kay paused.
“Did he ask you how you received the notes—then and now?”
“Yes. I told him most often they arrived by mail along with other letters that went to a post office box. The post office box address is the one that had been given out to the public. At other times, though, whoever wrote the notes slid them under the door like the one you have that showed up yesterday. And, before you ask, this is the third one I’ve received while staying at the hotel. One was waiting in my room when I arrived. In the past, others had shown up in dressing rooms or hotel rooms as I went from city to city on tour. None of them were ever sent to my home address in Pasadena, which is another reason the police weren’t concerned that I was in much danger.”
“Hand delivered notes that reach you while you’re on the road seem like stalking to me,” I said. Jack, who was deep in thought, didn’t say a word. The only alternative to a stalker I could come up with was that an insider had left the notes while she was touring. “What happened to the note you found in your hotel room when you checked in?”
“I threw it out. I hoped it was a silly prank. The first one was a welcome card left on
my pillow. Someone had added a word here and there. ‘We hope your stay is not a pleasant one.’ ‘If you need anything, don’t call.’ Silly stuff, so I convinced myself it was the work of a bored or unhappy employee, or maybe left by the room’s previous occupant. It wasn’t like any note I’d received before.”
“Did you ask anyone in housekeeping about it?”
“No, Jack. Now, I wish I’d pitched a fit. The second note was typed like this one. All it said was, ‘GO HOME.’ The detective said that note didn’t even imply a threat.”
“This third note is no prank,” I said.
“That’s what I thought,” Kay responded. “Swan song sounds awfully final to me. Doug Kingsley didn’t get it until I explained that your swan song can signal the end to your career or your life.”
“Swan song is a little ‘old school,’ isn’t it?” Kay nodded. I didn’t say it, but I also thought it was a term more likely to be used by someone else in the music business, wondering again about the involvement of an insider who worked with Kay.
“This note is typed in bold and all caps. Is that like the ones you previously received?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Sort of. Most of the notes were typewritten, but not in all caps. Some of the messages were short, like this one. Others were longer and more rambling. A few times I got notes made from magazine cutouts like the ones you see in movies.” Then she jumped up. “Hang on a second. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why tell you when I can show you.”
The cats had been sunning themselves. When Kay bolted, they sprang into action and sprinted after her. She returned, carrying the shoulder bag she must have set down near the front door when she arrived. One on each side, the cats escorted her to the table.
“My new bodyguards,” Kay said as she reappeared. “Could they have checked out my bag?”
“Ella, what have you done?” I immediately asked. Jack and I both stared at Ella, who was grooming herself until she heard her name. She returned my gaze with a “who me” innocence in her blue eyes. Then, she rubbed against my legs and purred. In the meantime, Kay held up a manila envelope that had bite marks on it. One corner had a tiny piece missing from it.
A Canary in the Canal Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #8 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series) Page 6