“What are ya stoppin’ for? Move!” Wyatt thundered. The next was a series of expletives as Nick, who’d been crouching on the overhang, dropped down right on Wyatt’s face with a series of snorts and growls. Wyatt clawed frantically at the tubby cat, but Nick held on stubbornly, his sharp claws fisted deep into Wyatt’s full head of hair.
I scrambled for the gun and retrieved it. I made sure the safety was on, though, before I trained it on Wyatt.
“It’s okay, Nick,” I said. “I’ve got him.” I shifted the weapon gingerly in my hand.
Nick positioned his fat belly across Wyatt’s face and gave me a look. “Er-ewl.”
I hesitated, then held the gun out to Adrienne. “You know how to shoot this?”
She shook her head, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly the deck was ablaze with lights. A voice over a loudspeaker yelled, “FBI. Come out with your hands up.”
A minute later Daniel burst into the cabin. He stared first at Adrienne, then at me, and then at Wyatt, who now lay on the floor, Nick’s fat body plopped right across his face. Beneath Nick’s furry butt Wyatt mumbled, “Help me. I can’t breathe.”
Daniel looked at me. I shrugged.
“I can explain,” I said.
He looked at the scene before him and shook his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
EPILOGUE
“Well, to quote the Bard, ‘All’s well that ends well.’”
It was Monday afternoon. Once the last lunch customer was out the door, I slapped the CLOSED sign on the door and hurried to the kitchen, where I took out the special lunch I’d made for some very special people. I returned to the dining area. Adrienne Sloane and Daniel and another agent from the DOJ, Rick Barnes, were seated at the table in the back, along with Ollie and Chantal. Lying at Chantal’s feet, head on paws, lay Nick. He looked at me reproachfully as I approached the table. I noted he was wearing his new collar and wondered just how hard a time he’d given Chantal.
“While our celebratory lunch is simmering, maybe we could tie up those few loose ends now?” I asked Daniel.
“Okay.” He leaned back in the chair. “Well, you do seem to be quite the detective, Nora. You had it pretty well figured out so I’ll just hit the high points. You already know Adrienne is Lola’s sister, who got involved with the wrong crowd at a young age and became Mickey Gianelli’s girl. She and Patti knew each other, and Patti was openly jealous of Adrienne, so when Patti got a chance to get Mickey’s ear and convince him Adrienne was cheating on him, he set her up. Adrienne went to prison, where we approached her about turning state’s evidence, an opportunity she grabbed at. In order to protect her, we faked her death, changed her appearance, and then sent her to Cruz to live, so she could be near her sister.”
“It’s odd, isn’t it, that Lola, who wanted nothing to do with the mob and disowned Adrienne over it, ended up married to a guy from the same crime family?”
“Not so odd when you consider the fact that Karl Goring always had a crush on Lola. He knew her in high school, even though he was a few years ahead of her,” Rick Barnes cut in. “Kevin Grainger’s pursuit of her was definitely not accidental.”
“Ooh.” Chantal sighed. “How romantic.”
I rolled my eyes as Daniel continued, “In the meantime, Karl Goring’s whereabouts were leaked to the mob by an informant whose name we have yet to discover. Anyway, Patti was sent in as a mole to confirm Kevin and Karl were one and the same: Wyatt was right—Aldo is running scared, and didn’t want to risk killing an innocent person. In the meantime, Patti realized that Buck might be able to find something out—there was that college connection—so she romanced him and he was like putty in her hands. Buck found that high school photo in Kevin’s briefcase where he kept it and turned it over to her, but by that time she’d fallen in love and had no intention of turning Kevin over to the mob.
Likewise, the mob arranged for Lott to have his auto accident so they could get Wyatt on the inside.”
“They took some chance with that,” I said. “One would think Kevin would have been able to tell the difference between his yacht captain and an imposter.”
“Under normal circumstances, maybe—but Kevin’s life was far from normal. The guy was always preoccupied, if not with business, then with keeping one step ahead of the mob. And the mob knew what they were up against. Their imposter had to be picture-perfect in order to pull it off. They lucked out in the fact that Wyatt had a similar build, and a talent for mimicry. He imitated Lott’s voice and mannerisms to perfection, and a bit of plastic surgery made ’em look like twins separated at birth—he fooled Kevin and Lola completely. By the way, the real Lott unfortunately did die in that accident, so there’s one more charge of murder against them. Anyway, the plan was once Patti gave Wyatt the okay, he’d take Kevin out and make it look like an accident. Only thing was, Patti didn’t want to turn Kevin in. Lola, under Adrienne’s guidance, found the envelope and hid it. Wyatt killed Lola in a panic because when she said to him, ‘I know what’s going on,’ he thought she’d discovered his true identity. Then it was a race between Wyatt and Patti trying to find the envelope. Patti did find it, and Wyatt killed her, but then you arrived on the scene so he called the police to get you off the boat. He was certainly surprised when the envelope was missing, too. He suspected you had it, but couldn’t prove it—until you had Chantal make that phone call. And if Chantal hadn’t had one of her ‘feelings’ that you were in deep trouble and called me—well, who knows what might have happened.” He arched a brow at me. “You do realize things would have gone down more smoothly if you’d called me with your theory.”
“You do realize I didn’t call you because I didn’t want my theories to get brushed aside like lint,” I retorted.
“Sorry.” He shot me a sheepish grin. “I had no choice. I had to keep you at arm’s length, for your own protection—which turned out to be a moot point.”
“Nick is really the one we should thank,” I said, giving the tuxedo a big grin. “If he hadn’t somehow managed to get out of the car and gone to the boat and dropped down on Wyatt—I think he’d have killed us before the FBI could have gotten there.”
“Suffice it to say,” interjected Rick Barnes, “that Wyatt is now enjoying thirty-five to life in prison, and his buddy Aldo isn’t far behind. Thanks to Adrienne we finally managed to get the evidence we needed to nail him on those offshore accounts—plus ties to Israeli terrorists, to boot.”
“It is a good thing Nora has excellent powers of deduction, non?” Chantal laughed. “If she hadn’t been able to put all those clues together, Kevin Grainger might still be living in fear of mob retaliation.”
“Unfortunately, Kevin’s identity has been compromised now, so we’ll have to relocate him again. Marshall Connor will be taking over as CEO of KMG shortly. Kevin will still realize income but it will have to be filtered and sent to him through government channels.” Daniel gave Adrienne a quick smile. “Adrienne too, unfortunately. I’m sorry, I know you’ve established roots, but there’s still valuable testimony you can give us—we can’t take a chance on your staying here, possibly endangering you.”
Rick Barnes nodded. “I assured Daniel we’d take good care of you, and take every precaution to ensure your future safety. Kevin’s, too.”
“Hey, I understand. Besides, my main reason for staying here was Lola. I’m alive—that’s the main thing.” She smiled at me. “And I owe it all to Nora and her cat, Nick.”
Ollie grinned at me. “See, Nora. I told you that cat was special—and smart. Smarter than a human.”
“They make a great team.” Chantal slid me a sidelong glance. “Nicky turned out to be your King of Swords after all,” she said.
Daniel’s brow arched. “King of Swords?”
“It is a long story.” Chantal smiled at Daniel. “Perhaps there is a spot for them with the FBI?”
“One neve
r knows. We’ve never had a cat as an agent before, but considering the circumstances, maybe we can make an exception—have them be special civilian consultants.” Daniel glanced over at where Nick squatted at my feet. “Somehow I think your cat would like that, Nora. He seems to be somewhat of a ham.”
Nick reared up on his hind legs. His head swiveled in Daniel’s direction. Black lips peeled back to reveal glistening fangs.
“Down, boy.” I pushed Nick back on the floor.
“So, Nora.” Ollie leaned back in his chair. “Has all this made you want to go back into reporting? Or maybe even try and get your PI license?”
I smiled at him. “While I admit I find detective work stimulating, and the thought of my own PI license is tempting, for now I think I’ll stick with something safer—like sandwich making.”
“Well, if you ever change your mind—I may be in the market for a partner soon.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Yes, and don’t forget your part-time job at Noir,” Chantal reminded me. “I bet Louis will listen to you now about those articles on unsolved crimes you wanted to do.”
“We’ll see,” I laughed. “I’m meeting him later at the Poker Face to discuss a new column.”
“Hm.” Daniel stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Well, maybe I’ll stop by and we can have a drink afterward. Get better acquainted. After all, we’re going to be neighbors soon.”
I looked sharply at him. “N-neighbors?”
He shot me a mischievous grin. “Didn’t I mention? I’ve taken a job heading up our new FBI satellite office in Carmel—it’s just fifteen minutes away. I’ve put down a deposit on a condo there.”
“That’s right,” said Rick. “And I’ll be working with him out of the new office as the DOJ liaison.”
“That’s great,” Chantal cried. “Carmel is so close—and Nora’s sister is living there, right? So we can visit often.”
I shot her a glance and was tempted to remind her that my sister Lacey was hardly likely to invite us for a weekend, but Chantal had already turned to Rick Barnes. She smiled and lowered her lashes.
“So tell me, Mr. Barnes—do you believe in tarot?”
He smiled. “Not really, but you’re welcome to try and change my mind. Oh, and you and Nora can call me Rick.”
While Chantal simpered at Rick like a Southern belle, Daniel reached over and clasped my hand. “Since I’ll now be living so close by, I might even actually be able to eat lunch here once in a while. Maybe squeeze in a dinner or two as well.”
“Well,” I stammered, “that—that would be—it would be nice.”
“I thought so. I’d like to get to know you when someone isn’t trying to take a shot at you. Ducking bullets can get distracting.” The heat of his gaze seared right through me. “I’ve got the feeling being a detective is in your blood, Nora. Once it’s there, it’s not easy to shake. And sometimes that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
I felt my cheeks getting hot, so I excused myself to see about our lunch. I’d just finished checking the oven when Ollie came into the kitchen.
“I wanted to show you these.”
He held out two crumpled sheets of paper. I stared at him.
“What are those?”
“I believe these are the pages you said were missing from Nick’s journal on Lola’s case. I dropped one of my cuff links and I found them jammed under the radiator. Apparently he wanted to hide them.”
“Hide them? Why?”
Ollie unfolded them and pressed them into my hand. “Read ’em.”
I scanned the pages quickly, my jaw dropping as I perused the cramped words. At last I met Ollie’s gaze. “This cinches it. He figured out Adrienne’s secret. Well, well,” I breathed, handing the pages back, “I guess maybe he is the best PI in the state of California after all.”
“I’m sure he would agree.”
“You know, this could explain his disappearance. If the mob found out what he knew—”
“We don’t know that for sure. Lots of balls in the air, remember. And maybe”—Ollie eyed the tubby tuxedo strolling into the kitchen—“maybe it is best, this time, if we let sleeping dogs lie. For you, for little Nick—for everyone.” He slipped the papers into his breast pocket. “I’ll give these a proper burial. Nick would want it that way—both of ’em.”
Ollie left, and Nick sidled up to me.
“Well.” I grinned down at him, “Looks as if you’re stuck with me for the time being, Nick. Adrienne isn’t quite sure just what happened to your former owner. After what Ollie just showed me, I’ve got an idea but one never knows. Maybe we’ll find out someday—but don’t blame me if I say I’m not too anxious to learn the truth.”
Nick squatted on his haunches, cocked his head. “Er-rup,” he trilled.
“Yeah, I’m kinda happy about it, too. And now I owe you a reward. After all, you did save my life.”
Nick yowled with excitement, prancing beside me as I crossed to the refrigerator. I pulled out a bowl and tipped it forward so he could take a sniff.
“Yessir. That’s real lobster in that lobster salad, pal. Thirty bucks a pound. Only the best for you. So don’t ever say I don’t appreciate you.”
Nick pawed animatedly at the air as I spooned lobster into his bowl. I set it down on the floor and for the next few minutes all anyone could hear were little slurping sounds.
I watched him, tapping my finger against my cheek. “I sure would like to know how in heck you got out of that car. That’s the real mystery here, if you ask me.”
He lifted his head and swiveled around to look over one shoulder at me. He squeezed his eyes shut and the corner of his lip tipped upward. Then he buried his head in the food bowl again.
“Nicky,” sang out Chantal, “come out here. I want you to model one of my collars for the jewelry website. Remy taught me how to use the camera so I can capture you on video.”
Nick’s haunches angled up like fins, until he caught the word video—then his ears perked straight up. He spun around, gave his bib a quick lick, and then, with a wistful glance back at his bowl, trotted toward the door.
I looked after his rotund bottom and shook my head in amazement. “Geez,” I called after him. “Daniel had it right. Nick, you are a ham.”
But dammit, I wouldn’t have him any other way.
FROM NORA’S RECIPE BOOK
THE THIN MAN TUNA MELT
1 (61/2-ounce) can tuna, drained
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
1/3 cup mayonnaise, regular or low-fat
2 tablespoons diced onion
1/2 teaspoon garlic salt or powder
Butter or margarine
8 slices of your favorite bread
4 slices cheese, Swiss or cheddar
2 tablespoons crumbled bacon bits
4 thin-cut tomato slices
Combine the tuna, celery, mayonnaise, onion, and garlic salt, and blend. Butter a bread slice on one side, and place it in a toaster oven. Cover with one-fourth of the tuna mixture and spread out, then top with a cheese slice. Sprinkle liberally with bacon bits. Place under the broiler for 1 minute, then put a tomato slice on top. Butter one side of another bread slice, and place it on top of the cheese, buttered side up. Grill until golden brown on both sides, or the cheese is melted. Remove, cut, and serve. Serves two humans and one tubby tuxedo cat.
THE MICHAEL BUBLE BURGER
1 tablespoon oil
1 Vidalia onion, thinly sliced
1 pound ground chuck
1 teaspoon vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 thick slices Black Forest ham
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 cup ketchup
4 thick h
amburger buns, lightly toasted
1 cup shredded lettuce
4 thick slices fresh tomato
Preheat and lightly grease a grill. Heat the oil in a medium skillet over medium-low; add the onion and cook until golden and extremely soft, stirring occasionally, 15 to 20 minutes. Meanwhile, combine the beef, vinegar, salt, pepper, and cayenne in a large bowl; mix well with your hands. Form into 4 round patties. Place on the grill and cook until desired doneness, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Add the ham, and grill 1 extra minute. Remove and set aside.
To assemble the sandwich, spread 1 tablespoon mayonnaise and 1 tablespoon ketchup on each bun. On the bottom bun, arrange lettuce, one burger with ham topping, and 1 slice tomato. Serve warm. Makes four sandwiches.
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