Pet in Peril

by Marie Celine

  Chief Mulisch hadn’t been present last night when they were questioned but surely the officer that had done the questioning had asked everything that could possibly be asked. Wouldn’t he have filed a report or verbally filled the chief in afterward on what they’d told him?

  ‘Well …’ Fran’s eyes took a sudden interest in the flat blue-gray carpet.

  ‘Is everything all right? Should I call Jack? He could help, I’m sure of it.’ Kitty faced the chief. ‘My—’ She cleared her throat and stuck out her chin. ‘My husband, Jack, is a state police official.’ OK, a slight exaggeration there.

  ‘But Jack isn’t—’ started Fran. Her face betrayed her confusion.

  ‘Isn’t here, yes, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind driving up.’ Kitty finished Fran’s sentence for her. OK, so she’d revised it some. ‘He could be here in an hour.’ Of course, that would take a supersonic jet or a time machine but technically it was feasible.

  ‘Hold on a second.’ Chief Mulisch’s ears had perked up. ‘Your husband is named Jack? Jack Young?’

  Kitty said it was.

  ‘That’s funny.’ He scratched the side of his ski slope-like nose. ‘I spoke with a Jack Young a bit earlier.’

  ‘You talked to Jack?’ Kitty felt her face heating up. ‘My Jack?’ Her mouth went dry. Jack had said he’d called the department. How could she forget?

  He nodded. ‘Sure did. He called my office this morning. And he didn’t say anything about the two of you being married. Only said his fiancée was staying at the Little Switzerland Resort and Spa and saying how he’d heard about the murder and was wondering what was going on. He asked me to fill him in as a professional courtesy.’ Chief Mulisch stared flatly at Kitty. ‘He told me he was a detective down in Los Angeles.’

  ‘Well, you see, what I meant was …’

  Chief Mulisch waved a broad tanned hand, shooing them toward the door out to the street. Kitty noticed a plain gold wedding band on his finger. ‘I think we’re done here. Miss Earhart.’ He turned to Fran. ‘Don’t forget what I said.’ Fran nodded once.

  ‘And you,’ he said, turning to Kitty. ‘I’d be extra careful if I were you.’

  ‘Extra careful?’ Kitty said, her hand on the door. ‘What do you mean?’ Was that a threat of some sort? Was he thinking she might be involved in Victor Cornwall’s murder?

  ‘Because,’ he glanced at the desk sergeant and there was an unmistaken twinkle in his crisp blue eyes, ‘if you are married to Jack Young, I’d be very careful that his fiancé doesn’t find out about you.’

  ‘His fian—’

  Chief Mulisch broke into laughter. He sounded much like her Lab, Fred, when he barked at the squirrels in Griffith Park. ‘Yeah, I hear she’s staying at the resort, too. I’d hate to get a nine-one-one call to break up a cat fight between the two of you.’

  Kitty stormed out the door, her face vivid red. Fran raced after her. ‘Boy, that was something,’ Fran said, falling into step beside Kitty.

  Kitty stopped on the sidewalk and looked pointblank at her friend. ‘What was that all about, anyway?’ She gestured toward the police station and saw that Chief Mulisch had his nose pressed against the glass and appeared to be smirking. Kitty spun Fran around. ‘Let’s keep walking.’

  Fran let herself be pushed down the street until a metal sign caught her attention. ‘Food!’ she called, pointing to an incongruous-looking English pub-styled restaurant with indoor/outdoor seating. ‘I need nourishment. And drink.’ She dropped down at an empty table outside without waiting for a hostess to seat them. ‘Mostly drink.’

  Fran waved to a sprightly young waitress in a white shirt and black skirt that was a little too short in Kitty’s opinion. But then, if she’d legs like that she might have worn something just as short. With her peroxide-blonde hair, the waitress looked like a Hollywood refugee but her accent leaned more toward Valley Girl.

  ‘Now,’ said Kitty, laying her hands on the tabletop once their food had arrived, ‘do you want to tell me why the chief of police had you pulled out of my cooking demonstration and dragged down to headquarters, Fran?’

  Fran toyed with her half-empty beer mug and snatched up a chip. ‘You’re not going to like this.’

  Kitty stabbed at her salad, coming up with a cucumber slice. ‘So far, there isn’t much that I’m liking about this trip so I don’t think anything you have to say now is going to make things any worse.’

  She was wrong.

  TEN

  ‘The police think I might have had something to do with Victor Cornwall’s murder.’ She downed the rest of her beer and waved for another.

  ‘But that’s crazy.’ Kitty signaled for their waitress to ignore Fran’s request. Two beers were enough for lunch. She needed Fran to keep her wits about her. ‘You were with me the entire time. Besides, what possible reason could you have for killing Vic? We saw the guy for two seconds in the lobby – you called him a jerk and we left. End of story.’ Kitty’s head was wagging but she stopped when she saw the look in Fran’s eyes. ‘Fran?’ she drew the word out. ‘What is it that you aren’t telling me?’

  Fran took a heavy breath. ‘I’ve never told you much about my family, have I?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Kitty had never met Fran’s mother and father and only knew the basics. She hadn’t known Fran that long.

  ‘Dad had a printing business in Kingston. Mom helped with it.’

  ‘What’s all this got to do with Victor Cornwall?’

  ‘Mom and Dad never had much.’ She smiled sadly. ‘But my father, boy, he really wanted to make good.’ She lifted her eyes. ‘You know, live the American dream for us kids.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Victor Cornwall happened.’

  ‘You knew Vic?’ Kitty’s hands locked against the side of the table. This was not good, not good at all.

  Fran nodded. ‘Not personally, but you know he had all those infomercials, get-rich schemes. Books about how to improve your life, make good investments. He ran a real-estate investment club. He dubbed its members Vic’s Victory Club.

  ‘Of course, it was all a fraud. A flimsy house of cards. After it all came out and Vic was exposed as the crook he was, the news started calling all those poor investors the Vic’s Victims Club. Like it was some sort of joke.’ Her voice was husky with sadness. ‘My parents had mortgaged the house and the business and put all the money they had in one of Victor Cornwall’s timeshare investments near Tampa.’

  A tear fell from Fran’s eye and down the edge of her nose, which she dabbed with her napkin. ‘There was no resort. Nothing. Only an empty lot of swampland, better suited for alligators than timeshares.’ Fran heaved a sigh. ‘My parents lost everything.’

  Fran explained how Victor’s schemes had finally caught up with him and blown up in his face. As she spoke, Kitty had vague recollections of hearing some of the stories in the news. Cornwall had defrauded an untold number of innocent people who’d bought into his cons, bilking them of millions of dollars. Wow, the guy was quite a piece of work. No wonder somebody had murdered him. Kitty was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

  ‘Oh, Fran. I’m so sorry.’ Kitty reached across the small table and squeezed Fran’s hand.

  ‘They never recovered. My dad got a night job working at a donut shop in Coconut Creek and Mom—’ Fran hesitated. ‘Well, Mom just sits at home. The shock and pain of losing everything was all too much for her.’ She laced her fingers and squeezed. ‘I told her I’d be home for Christmas. Now I’m not so sure. I could be in jail.’

  There was a moment of awkward silence as Kitty digested her friend’s words. ‘It still doesn’t make sense that the police would think you might have murdered Vic.’ There were probably millions of victims of Vic’s larceny who might like to see him dead, and she said so.

  ‘Plus, you and the police are forgetting – you were with me the whole time.’ Kitty smiled. ‘You could not have possibly killed Vic.’ In an effort to lighten the mood she banged her fist on
the tabletop and said, ‘Your honor, my client is innocent. The proof is clear and undeniable and I rest my case.’

  But even as Kitty spoke Fran shook her head, as if to erase the effects of her friend’s smile. ‘No. No, I wasn’t.’ Fran polished off her burger and pulled her soggy napkin across her lips. ‘Don’t you remember? You forgot your purse.’

  Confusion spread across Kitty’s face.

  ‘You went to the front desk to fetch it. I went to the ladies’ room.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I didn’t go to the ladies’ room.’ She hesitated, looking down at her empty plate. ‘I went to Vic’s room,’ she confessed softly.

  Kitty practically fell from her chair. ‘You went to Vic’s room? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Kitty lowered her voice. Heads were turning their way. ‘What happened? What did you do?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Fran whined. ‘I knocked on his door.’ She pulled apart her napkin. ‘I was so angry, thinking about what he did to Mom and Dad.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Nothing. He didn’t answer. That’s all. I swear.’

  ‘How did the police find out?’ Had Fran told them?

  ‘It was the housekeeper. You know, the one who caught us in Vic’s room.’

  How could she forget?

  ‘She was working in the room across the hall and saw me knocking. She told the police.’

  ‘But she didn’t see you actually enter Mr Cornwall’s room?’

  ‘No, but it looks bad for me.’

  Yes, it did. ‘Fran, what were you thinking?’ Kitty’s mind raced through a million scenarios and outcomes. None of them good.

  Fran shrugged. ‘I wasn’t thinking, OK?’ she said as more tears poured down her face, taking her carefully applied mascara with them. ‘I wasn’t thinking,’ she repeated. Then she rose and pushed back her chair. ‘Excuse me.’

  Kitty watched Fran speak briefly to their server, who pointed out the door to the ladies’ room, behind which Fran quickly disappeared. Kitty’s breath caught in her throat. Poor Fran. Fran had been gone only five minutes but that was long enough to kill Victor Cornwall. That made her a suspect. And with her family’s history with Vic it made her a very good suspect at that.

  Fran returned to the table, her face puffy but makeup repaired. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this thing out.’ Kitty would call Jack. He’d know what to do.

  ‘Thanks, I— Hey, there’s that guy again.’

  ‘What guy?’

  ‘That guy. Look,’ Fran hissed as Kitty’s head swiveled around and then back again. ‘No, don’t look. He seems to be following me – us, around.’ This whole murder business appeared to be making Fran even more emotional than normal.

  ‘I don’t see anybody.’ At least, nobody special. There were fifteen or twenty people spread out among the indoor and outdoor tables. Some couples, a few families. A toddler in a red jumpsuit was rooting around under a four-top. What was Fran going on about?

  ‘That guy over there,’ Fran explained, barely moving her jaw. ‘At that small table to your left. Wearing glasses.’

  Kitty lifted her purse and set it on her lap. She pretended to be fishing around while surreptitiously trying to get a good picture of Fran’s supposed stalker. He looked harmless enough. In fact, he was rather handsome and couldn’t have been much older than either of them. He had his nose buried in the paper he was clutching, a copy of the Little Switzerland Gazette. Kitty had seen their news stands outside the resort and at several kiosks along the street.

  ‘I saw that same guy at the resort,’ Fran said.

  ‘So?’ The man was wearing a tweed coat over a cream-colored sweater and a loose-fitting pair of dark jeans. He had an oval face and a wave of dark brown hair swept back from his forehead. With his black-rimmed glasses he looked a little bit like Clark Kent. Was he wearing tights beneath those jeans?

  ‘So why is he following us around? I’d swear I saw him coming out of the police station as I was going in, too.’

  ‘Fran, slow down. So what if you saw him walk out of the police station? This is one of the busiest streets in town. Maybe he stopped to ask for directions. He probably walked up from the resort like I did. Maybe he decided to do some window shopping and stopped here to get lunch the same as we did.’ Kitty set her purse back down by her feet. ‘All perfectly normal.’

  ‘I still say it’s no coincidence,’ grumbled Fran, staring at her empty beer mug. ‘And he looks like the killer type.’

  ‘He looks harmless.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She gasped. ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘He’s coming this way,’ she whispered a little too loudly.

  Kitty turned. Sure enough, he had risen, folded his newspaper, which he left lying on the table, and was heading toward them. She shut her eyes. How embarrassing. She held her breath as his shadow passed over her. Hopefully he was merely leaving the pub and hadn’t noticed them spying on him. The messes that Fran got her into …

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’ He stopped at their table and laid a smile on them. Kitty looked up. He certainly was handsome. There was mischief and charm in those green eyes. She was surprised Fran was suspicious of the guy rather than fawning over him – after all, that was her usual response to a good-looking man. Most men never stood a chance with Fran. She was that kind of woman, with a certain sexual chemistry that men seemed to find irresistible once she set her sights on them. Kitty had witnessed it firsthand. Fran would bowl an unsuspecting guy right over and ply him like warm, wet potter’s clay in her hands. He’d never know what hit him.

  ‘I’m Ted Atchison.’ He stuck out his hand, first toward Kitty, then Fran. ‘I hope you don’t mind me interrupting. It’s just that I’m staying at the resort, the Little Switzerland Resort and Spa?’

  Kitty nodded. His hand was quite warm for such a cool afternoon. And no wedding band.

  ‘Anyway.’ He smoothed back his hair. ‘I’ve seen you two ladies around and the resort and thought I’d say hi.’

  Kitty and Fran said hello, though Fran wasn’t hiding her feelings and looked rather put out. ‘Who are you here with?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s only me.’

  Kitty’s brow formed a V. ‘No pet?’ The Little Switzerland was a resort for pets. Would they even accept a guest without one?

  He looked confused for a moment, then spoke. ‘Oh, my dog, of course. Yep, got my dog with me.’ He grinned from ear to ear. ‘I can’t forget him, can I? I thought for a minute you meant somebody two-legged.’ He marched two fingers through the air.

  Fran rolled her eyes and opened her mouth but before she could say anything rude, Kitty said, ‘Are the two of you enjoying your stay, Mr Atchison?’

  ‘Sure,’ he extended his arms, ‘it’s like living in a postcard around here. What’s not to like?’ He grew serious. ‘Except for the murder, of course.’ His eyes locked on Kitty’s.

  ‘Yes.’ Kitty shuddered visibly. ‘That was horrible.’

  ‘I read all about it in the paper. To think, we’re all staying at the resort. I hear the police haven’t caught the killer yet. He could be staying right there with us.’

  ‘True,’ Kitty said. Not a pleasant thought.

  Ted Atchison rested his hands on the back edge of an empty chair. ‘Do they have any leads?’

  Too many, and all pointing in the wrong direction was what Kitty wanted to say. Instead, she replied, ‘Nothing specific as far as we know.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ His finger tapped his lips. ‘I guess we’d all better be careful then. There could be a vicious killer roaming the halls.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ replied Kitty. ‘At least I hope not.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Kitty explained how the murderer was very likely somebody that Victor Cornwall knew and maybe had badly ended business dealings with in the past.

  Ted wiped his glasses with a napkin then r
eturned them to his nose. ‘That makes sense.’

  Kitty waved to the empty chair between her and Fran. ‘Won’t you have a seat?’

  ‘There’s no time for that,’ interjected Fran. ‘We have to be going.’ She rose, the legs of her chair scraping across the stamped concrete. ‘Got to keep to the schedule, remember? We don’t want Greg and Steve dropping the hammer on us.’

  Kitty sighed and rose. ‘I suppose you’re right. It was nice meeting you, Mr Atchison.’ She laid some cash on the table, enough to cover the bill and a generous tip.

  ‘Please, call me Ted.’ He stepped back from the table, glanced at Fran then turned to Kitty. ‘I was wondering if you might like to have dinner with me tonight.’

  Was he blushing?

  ‘Thanks but I’m afraid I couldn’t.’ Kitty was flattered but she was also engaged to be married.

  Ted looked crestfallen. ‘If you change your mind …’

  ELEVEN

  After dropping Fran off in their suite to nap, Kitty stepped out to the gardens near the pagoda and dialed Jack’s cell phone. The call went straight to voicemail. Darn. How irritating. Where was he when she needed him? Fran needed him. She was hoping he could drop what he was doing and drive back down to Little Switzerland. There was nothing unreasonable about that, was there? He was a policeman, after all. Even if Little Switzerland was outside his jurisdiction there must be something he could do to help.

  Of course, best-case scenario, he’d leave Elin Nordstrom in Sacramento. The lieutenant could hitchhike home for all Kitty cared.

  She left a wordy message, hoping he’d call back soon, then went to fetch her pets. She unfolded the day’s schedule that the hotel had provided for the guests’ pets. Why was it that everybody and every pet seemed to have a schedule around here? This was supposed to be a relaxing spa resort pleasure trip, not boot camp. She ran her finger down the list of items on the itinerary. Fred and Barney should be wrapping up their mani-petty and grooming session in a few minutes.