Teacup Tubulence

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Hello, Sheila,” I said to Dante’s assistant, the obedient, good-natured little woman who undoubtedly knew everything there was to know about HotPets and how to manipulate anything to her advantage. This was the first time I’d seen her out of her work uniform—a nice suit or dress, befitting the person who backed up the CEO and did everything he needed done behind the scenes. Instead, she wore a HotPets T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, looking like any ordinary woman around my age. Her short brown hair was a little messy, and she didn’t wear any makeup, either. Definitely playing a role I hadn’t seen her in before.

  Maybe this was the real her.

  “Come on in. Please.” She laughed. “Although you should be saying that to me, since this is your house. Oh, and by the way, I know Zoey is sweet and very well trained, so I’d like you to tell her to sit and stop growling.”

  My girl was definitely sweet—usually. Right now her growls were an undercurrent to what passed for a conversation here, and she bared her teeth as if ready to attack. By reflex, I’d put my hand down on her collar to keep her by my side.

  I would have let her go do what she would have done naturally if there hadn’t been a gun involved.

  Instead, I said, “Zoey, sit.” Which she did. I tilted enough to pat her head. “Good girl.”

  “Now both of you come inside. Unless, of course, the collars with real gems that you saved are in your car. If so, you and I will go get them now.”

  I frowned in confusion. Yes, this had to be about the real bling collars, but why would she think I still had possession of any?

  “No, there aren’t any in the car or anywhere else around here. I assume they’re all with the police now, at least any that I brought back on the Las Vegas trip, if those are the collars you’re talking about.” Or they might still be at HotRescues, where I’d hidden them. But I wasn’t about to mention that now.

  Her innocent smile turned into an angry glare. “Of course they’re what I’m talking about. And I’ve heard about Chris and what happened at your damn shelter. There’s something—well, never mind. I just need those jewels. The real ones.”

  “I’m sorry,” I lied, “but I can’t help you.”

  “Sit down,” she snarled, waving her gun toward my small, round kitchen table with its chairs pushed under it. Still holding Zoey’s collar, I complied.

  I hoped Matt was listening, or at least aware that something was wrong. Just in case, I wanted to learn all I could.

  “I know I’m just speculating, but here’s what I think could be going on,” I said. “I’m not aware of your relationship with Chris Mandrea, but I heard an unsubstantiated rumor”—just in case Antonio had said more than he should have to me—“that he’s making some kind of deal so things will go easier for him, which means he’ll turn you, or whoever else is involved, over to the authorities with whatever information he has. Did you kill Teresa Kantrim?”

  I doubted she’d admit it, but I watched her face. “Of course I did,” she spat. She took the chair facing me at the table, without lowering the gun. “And I’ll kill you, too, if you don’t help me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and I’ll see what I can do.” And delay things as much as I could, till Matt and backup arrived. I hoped.

  “If you don’t have the jewels, do you have any money around here that you can give me? I have to get away.”

  “From being arrested?”

  “That, and more.” She sucked in her lips for a moment. “There are things . . . Hell, you want to hear what’s going on? I’ll describe to you how bad it is, so maybe you’ll understand. And do just what I tell you.” She stared hard into my eyes, holding the gun so it was now aimed at my forehead.

  I hoped she didn’t get some kind of twitch. Or just decide for the fun of it to pull the trigger . . .

  I tightened my grip on Zoey’s warm, furry back as she sat there, as much to bolster my own strength as to try to keep her safe.

  “Please tell me,” I said quietly.

  “There’s no time to tell you much,” she said. “I’m in trouble with my boyfriend, Vince, because I didn’t get the real jewels to the right people in Las Vegas, like I promised. That bitch Teresa interfered first, threatened to blackmail me. I took care of her. Vince helped. He just happened to have some cyanide for me to add to her drink that night at the party—had brought it along in case the opportunity arose to use it, which it did. Teresa was so blitzed already that she didn’t know what she was drinking.” Her smile made me shudder. “And now you’ve gotten in my way, too. He gave me one more chance, and it’s also gone wrong. So you owe me. Especially since I’d already heard that Chris Mandrea is now being questioned about the jewels. He knows . . . enough. And I have to get out of here. So, give me some money. Fast.”

  “But I don’t keep cash around here,” I said. I was becoming really frightened now. She had admitted to having murdered Teresa, and I figured she’d have no compunction about killing me, too. “I’ll be glad to give you what I have.”

  But what I’d said initially was true. Oh, if I scrounged in my purse, my kitchen drawers, and my kids’ rooms, I might come up with a hundred dollars, maybe two hundred if I was lucky.

  Nothing like the value of real gems, as she was looking for. And not enough for her to escape and go live in some other country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. I figured that was what she was hoping for.

  I reached down to where I’d laid my purse on the floor near Zoey.

  “Let me have it,” she insisted.

  “Sure.” I handed it over to her. “I don’t have any weapons in it, if that’s what you think.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I think.” Still keeping the gun trained on me, she began to root through the contents, pulling out my wallet. I had about fifty dollars in it, which she extracted. She also took my credit card. That didn’t worry me much. I’d be able to stop payment on it—assuming she didn’t kill me first.

  And then I almost gasped aloud. She’d probably see my phone. What if she realized I’d made a call and hadn’t hung up?

  “I think I have some more in a hidden compartment,” I said hastily. “Not sure, though. Can I take a look?”

  Fortunately she didn’t question that. She just handed my purse back to me and I dug in it.

  I didn’t see the light on the phone. That was a good thing, because Sheila wouldn’t have seen it, either. But was it off because of the light’s timer, or because the call had ended?

  I couldn’t check.

  Matt was right. I shouldn’t be putting myself into dangerous situations. I didn’t look for them, but sometimes they found me.

  Even if he was sending help, I could be shot before—

  The door from my kitchen into my backyard suddenly burst open, as did the nearby window.

  “Police!” came the shout from several sources. “Put down your weapon.”

  “You damned—” Sheila raised the gun to aim it again at my chest.

  “Put it down.” The shout was closer now—from a guy all dressed up like the SWAT team members I’d seen on TV. He had an even more vicious-looking weapon trained on Sheila.

  If glares could kill, the one she aimed at me would have done it.

  Fortunately, they don’t.

  She put the gun down on the floor and raised her hands in the air.

  Chapter 37

  I still had questions. Lots of them.

  One was how all the cops got into my gated community so easily—but they were cops, after all. And it seemed to me I’d once heard there was a special code that could be used by emergency vehicles.

  It didn’t matter now. They’d done it, and they’d rescued me.

  More important for future safety in this area was how Sheila had gotten inside the fence, but I might never learn that.

  Both Antonio and Matt appeared almost immediately. They must have followed the uniformed guys inside. I rushed up to Matt, and he took me into his arms. “You h
eard,” I said roughly.

  “I heard,” he acknowledged, talking directly into my ear. “And did a three-way call with Antonio, so he could hear, too.”

  I pulled away a little. “Thank you both.” I stooped next to give Zoey a hug. She’d tried to protect me and done a good job, but I was just relieved she hadn’t been hurt, either. Then I rose again and asked Antonio, “Does Brooke know?”

  He nodded. “I called her while I was on my way here. I just hung up after assuring her that I got here and you’re okay.”

  I realized how late it was, but I was wide-awake. I assumed both these men were, too. “Would you like me to brew some coffee? I’d like to talk a little about what just happened.”

  But there were crime scene investigators all over my kitchen. Antonio recognized this, and said gently, “Probably not a good idea. In fact, I’ll stay with you while you’re questioned, and then I’d suggest that you and Zoey go stay with Matt for the rest of the night.”

  “Oh. Right.” I’d been so glad to see these guys, and to watch Sheila being taken into custody, that my mind had tuned out how busy my small kitchen remained. “Besides, it’ll be better to talk tomorrow.” I leaned upward so I could whisper to Antonio, “You’ll know more then and will have some answers.”

  The incisive-looking cop aimed a brief, lopsided grin at me. “And as long as you’re discreet, I may even be able to share a few with you.”

  A woman dressed in a suit came up to us and was introduced as Detective Janvers, the detective in charge. She wanted to ask me a few questions.

  At least Antonio was permitted to remain with me during the interrogation, which was conducted in my living room, since the kitchen was still being examined by crimescene techs.

  I told all I knew. I was told nothing in return. But I wasn’t surprised.

  I’d gone through this before.

  When I was finally allowed to leave, it was only after I’d agreed to accompany some investigators to HotRescues so they could take the boxes of HotPets Bling collars along to examine—since they had apparently left them for the crime scene techs to check out on site first and hadn’t picked them up when they’d arrested Chris. We formed a small caravan on the way there, although Matt was sweet enough to drive Zoey and me. Not that I’d admit it, but I was a bit shaky.

  I showed the cops into the office where I’d stored the crates. Because the stuff wasn’t really mine, I did have them sign receipts.

  I’d be interested to hear their analysis of which stones were real and which were manufactured. Which I hoped Antonio would tell me.

  Brooke had stayed at HotRescues along with some guys from EverySecurity. Even though I yearned to perform my usual routine and go see the dogs and cats before I left, I was exhausted, and Brooke assured me they were all just fine.

  Once more, Matt was there for me. He waited in the welcome room with Zoey. He had gotten all the way to his house before receiving my call, and he had left Rex there.

  The three of us set off in Matt’s car so Zoey and I could spend the rest of the night at his place. Matt promised to drive us back here in the morning.

  And as pleasant as it was to spend another night with Matt, I was much too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

  • • •

  Matt let us sleep in a little, even though he had work to do, too. And, true to his word, he did drive Zoey and me to HotRescues before heading off to his own job.

  The day was busy, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. First, I called Dante at his office and let him know what had happened—and why his assistant wouldn’t be reporting to work today.

  “Sheila?” His disbelief reverberated through the phone. “And after Chris, too? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I wish.” But when I described what had happened at my home, his sigh was audible.

  “You’re okay, I take it.” I assured him I was. “Well, at least something’s good in this mess. You don’t have any details about why?”

  “No, but I’m hoping to hear from Antonio later.” I promised to call him and tell him everything—or at least all that Antonio said I could—as soon as I heard.

  I handled three adoptions that day, a couple of which were for our latest teacups. In my office, sitting in the conversation areas with each group, I pored over the applications of all of the potential adopters. They might have thought I was interrogating them about a crime they’d thought about committing rather than just wanting to take a sweet dog home with them.

  I reminded them all of the parts of the contract they had to sign that allowed me to visit anytime, to make sure all was going well.

  And then I let them take their new family members home with them, with one proviso: “You’ll need to bring him”—or her, with one of them—“back in about a week. I owe you a HotPets Bling collar, but right now I’m out of them.” I didn’t explain why to any of them.

  I suspected they’d wind up hearing something about it on the news eventually, though.

  Between the adoptions, I roved the kennel area, mostly with Zoey keeping me company. The place was busy with people who’d come to check out our temporary residents, even though it was a Thursday, not a weekend.

  I watched Bev accompanying three new volunteers around, instructing them: Marshall Droven, Janice Crift, and Sissy Silver.

  Although we hadn’t yet held an orientation for new volunteers, they were complying with my demands to start helping out here—in exchange for my not following up in some scary way for their having adopted some of the teacups under false pretenses.

  I went over to say hello, and Bev met my eye and winked. I supposed all was going well.

  Just to make sure, I told Marshall, “Why don’t you go into Ruff’s kennel, there, and show me how you’d work on socializing him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Janice said right away, and I recalled that she had seemed quite taken with the adorable bearded collie mix when she’d come here to “adopt” Sapphire. She still had Sapphire, which was fine with me, but I wondered if, under other circumstances, Ruff might have had a new home instead.

  On the other hand, I wasn’t worried. He hadn’t been here long, and I was sure he would be adopted by the perfect family soon.

  Zoey and I eventually headed back to the main building, where, in between visitors arriving, phone calls coming in, and everything else that occurred on this busy day, I brought Nina up to date on all that had happened yesterday.

  Our busy day was soon at an end. And I hadn’t yet heard from Antonio.

  I retreated to my office to call him in private—and that’s when my phone rang. It was him.

  “If you’re available in about an hour, let’s all meet for a quick dinner—Brooke, Matt, you, and me. I’ll fill you in on what’s happened so far with Sheila. You might want to call your EverySecurity guys and tell them no one will be at HotRescues for an hour or so while we eat.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  With Sheila and Chris in custody, I doubted any more murders would occur at my shelter.

  • • •

  It was a warm late-summer evening, and we sat outside in a corner formed by the fencing around the patio in a family restaurant not far from HotRescues. Fortunately, they sold wine. They also provided water for Zoey, Rex, and Cheyenne.

  After we ordered, I’d waited long enough. I looked at Antonio, who sat at my left side. “Tell us.”

  “This is all still a moving target,” he cautioned. “And some of it’s speculation. But I’ll tell you what I know or suspect so far, as long as it goes no farther.”

  “I’d like to tell Dante,” I cautioned.

  “And he’ll tell his Kendra,” Antonio said in resignation. “Fine, but make sure he knows the two of them can’t say anything to anyone else.”

  The glare from his stern brown eyes made me raise my brows and nod vehemently. “You got it.”

  Sheila had apparently started talking, at least some, even though she had lawyered up. It turned out that her b
oyfriend, Vince, the guy she had brought to one of our HotRescues parties, had—as I’d come to suspect—been involved in the heist in the downtown jewelry district that had made the news a few weeks ago.

  The cops were on to him and his abettors. They couldn’t easily get the gems to their fences. They were under observation and didn’t even know who was undercover, watching them, so even mailing the stuff or sending it by a delivery company wouldn’t work.

  They’d promised to deliver the jewels fast and were getting desperate—until Sheila had come up with the idea of transporting them out of the area on the HotPets Bling collars.

  She didn’t live with Vince, and as far as the police could tell, she wasn’t one of those under surveillance. She had visited the factory and seen how the false jewels were mounted. Realizing it would be too easy to lose the real jewels among them, she appealed to Chris Mandrea to create some other designs without telling him why.

  She merely went to work, and sometimes to the factory, as she usually did. Even if she was being watched, she was just fulfilling her daily routine. No one apparently suspected anything out of the ordinary. No one stopped her. No one questioned her—not even when she got some of the workers at the factory to mount the real jewels into those designs—without, of course, alerting them to what they actually were doing.

  In retrospect, it might have seemed obvious, but she got away with it. At first.

  Chris figured it out, though. He demanded a cut, and Vince agreed. Not happily, of course.

  When things really started going wrong was with the first trip to Las Vegas. It had seemed a godsend to them, a way to get the collars away subtly, without alerting anyone.

  Only Teresa had gotten to Las Vegas early on the plane before the leg to L.A. She’d apparently overheard the people who were there to meet the Faylers’ plane and sneak the real gem-encrusted collars away.

  That was when she had started with the verbal jabs against the Faylers, who’d been innocent, and justifiably baffled.