Crime and Catnip

by T. C. LoTempio

  I frowned. I’d been too far away to see faces clearly, but it certainly looked like the outfit Magda had on. Why was she following them? Impulsively I started in that direction, but I hadn’t taken two steps before a heavy hand dropped on my shoulder. “Hold it right there,” a raspy voice hissed in my ear.

  I froze.

  ELEVEN

  “Well, well, Nora Charles. Nice costume.”

  The familiar voice grated in my ears. Oh no, it couldn’t be? Could it?

  The hand dropped away from my shoulder and I turned around slowly, not quite sure what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the tall figure in tight black jeans, a black silk shirt, and black boots that towered over me. A black silk mask covered the upper portion of his face, leaving only the lips and chin visible, and those lips were curved upward in a maddening grin.

  “Th-thanks,” I stammered. “Who are you supposed to be? Zorro?”

  “Hardly. Zorro’s weapon was a sword.”

  Samms pulled back his cape, revealing a holster with a shiny .45 clipped to his side. I shook my head. “I thought you were on guard detail?”

  “I am.” He grinned. “But even the most stalwart guards need a break. Just between you and me, I’ve been trying to avoid that clown in the jester suit. You know, the roving photographer.” He rolled his eyes upward. “He’s a bit overzealous.”

  I laughed. “He’s just starting up a photography business.”

  Samms winced. “That would explain it.” His gaze roved over me, taking in every detail of my costume. “Very nice,” he said. “Gretel?”

  “She’s Little Red Riding Hood, of course,” said a muffled voice behind us. I let out a loud squeal as the tall figure in blue jacket, red bow tie, and large wolf mask swept me into his arms and against his chest. “Hey there, Little Red. Been behaving yourself?”

  “Why certainly. I wouldn’t want the Big Bad Wolf to get angry at me.”

  “Good.” Daniel pushed the mask up to reveal his face and glanced at Samms. “Everything okay here?”

  “No sign of trouble,” Samms said. He touched two fingers to his forehead. “I’m headed back to relieve Bristol at the grimoire room. Stop by when you get a chance.”

  Daniel nodded. As Samms was swallowed up in the throng, he turned to me. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I got a bit held up after the meeting.”

  I brushed a strand of auburn hair out of my eyes. “It’s okay. I had every confidence you’d show up sooner or later.”

  A figure appeared in the archway—Sergeant Broncelli. I noted the lawman had opted to wear a dark suit and tie and not a costume. He motioned to Daniel, who squeezed my arm. “I’m just going to check in. I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him disappear into the hallway with Broncelli and I let out a small sigh. I had the definite impression this “working date” was going to turn out to be more work for Daniel than for me. Bo Peep stepped up to the podium just then and commandeered the microphone. “Good evening, everyone. We hope you are all enjoying the delicious food, catered by Ms. Nora Charles of Cruz’s premier specialty sandwich shop, Hot Bread!” There was a smattering of applause and a few catcalls and whistles I attributed to Chantal, Rick, and Lance. Once everything died down, Daisy continued. “Please continue to enjoy our appetizers and entrees. Dessert will be served shortly, and then we will have the unveiling of our medieval exhibit, featuring the prized grimoire of Morgan le Fay! In the meantime, please eat, drink, and be merry.”

  “Hmpf. I could have done just as good a job.”

  I turned and saw Nellie Blanchard, arms crossed over her chest, standing just behind me. “Hello, Nellie,” I said. “Enjoying the party?”

  “It’s okay,” she grumbled. “The food’s good.”

  “I like your costume.”

  Nellie glanced down, and then brushed at a speck of lint on one sleeve. “Yeah, it’s okay. This material’s a pain, though. It picks up everything.”

  Nan pushed her way through the throng and caught Nellie’s arm. “Ah, Nellie, there you are. We need to get more napkins out of the storeroom. Could you possibly lend a hand?”

  Nellie cast a dark glance toward one of the buffet tables where Daisy stood, chatting with a girl dressed as a fairy. “Sure. I guess the princess can’t handle it,” she muttered under her breath. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, and she expelled a sharp breath. Then with a slight nod to me, she followed Nan out into the hallway.

  “Looks like disgruntled employees are all over,” said a figure to my left. “I’ve noticed that woman can have a short fuse, too.”

  I turned my head and met Reynaud’s hypnotic gaze. He was dressed in a black suit, black tie, with a black cape looped around his shoulders. He held a white mask in one hand, a glass of punch in the other. “It is a fabulous soiree, with equally fabulous food. Kudos.”

  “Thanks.”

  I moved over to the table to get a glass of punch, and out of the corner of my eye saw Daisy coming in this direction. As she approached the table, Reynaud reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “We need to talk,” he hissed.

  Daisy backed up a step and removed her mask. She looked quickly around. “Not here,” she murmured.

  “Where, then?”

  “I don’t know.” She took another step away from the man. “Tonight is not a good time.”

  “There never seems to be one lately,” he hissed back. “But you and I will settle things one way or another. Tonight.”

  Reynaud turned on his heel and moved toward the bar. Daisy looked after him a moment, then slipped her mask back on and hurried through the double doors into the hallway. I set my glass of punch on the table and followed, curious as to what “things” they might need to settle. When I entered the hallway I saw her standing in a far corner, her back to me, shoulders hunched. From her stance it appeared she was talking on her cell and as I drew closer I could see my assumption was correct. She finished her conversation, slid the phone into the pocket of her skirt, turned, and bumped right into me. “N-Nora,” she stammered. “You startled me.”

  “I’ve been looking for you,” I said. “I was hoping you and I might have a talk about Alexa Martin.”

  Her brows knit together; her lips slashed into a taut line. “I already told you, I do not know anything about Violet’s niece. If you will excuse me . . .”

  She started to move past me but I planted myself firmly between her and the exit into the adjoining hall and whispered boldly, “Who are you afraid of, Daisy? Reynaud? Magda? Someone else? Maybe that woman in red I saw you with earlier.”

  Her face paled and she sucked in her breath. I noticed her gaze seemed fixed at a point just beyond my left shoulder. I turned my head quickly, but there was no one there, although I had a fleeting impression of a door at the end of the hall closing. I swung my gaze back to Daisy. In the dim hall light, her skin looked almost transparent. She had the most startled expression on her face, like she’d just seen a ghost. Impulsively, I touched her arm. “Are you all right?”

  Her head snapped up and she fixed me with a stare. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I like Violet a lot, and I wish I could help you, but trust me, there is nothing I can tell you that would put Violet’s mind at ease about her niece. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  She started to push past me but I stepped forward to block her way. “Something has upset you, I can tell. Maybe I can help.”

  Down the hall a door opened and more costumed revelers emerged, laughing and giggling. Daisy’s fingers plucked at the string that tied the black cape around her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry. I must go.”

  A girl dressed as Pocahontas popped her head out of a far doorway and started waving her hand. “Ms. Charles,” she called. “The food critic from the Monterey Herald would like to speak with you. He’s been sampling your food like mad!”

  �
�See?” Daisy hissed. “An excellent opportunity for you. Forget about me, Ms. Charles. You should concentrate on taking care of your own business.”

  With that, she pushed past me and marched swiftly down the corridor. I sighed, squared my shoulders, and followed Pocahontas back into the ballroom.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later I’d completed my interview with Nate Blasdell, head food critic for the Monterey Herald, one of the largest papers in the Northern Cal area, which I personally thought had gone rather well. He’d been exceptionally pleased with my dishes, the Morgan le Fay’s Pepper Steak Stir-fry in particular, and I extended an invitation to him to come down to Hot Bread the following week to sample more of my specialty sandwiches. I was checking my watch when a hand brushed against my waist. I jumped, and then relaxed as I spun around to gaze into a leering wolf’s head.

  “Everything okay?” Daniel asked, his voice muffled.

  “It’s great. I have to check on the desserts, so you’d better grab yourself a plate of real food. We’ll be starting to put it away soon.”

  He patted his stomach. “I’m not worried. I know the chef.”

  I chuckled. “Did you happen to see Chantal or Rick anywhere around?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Well, if you do see Chantal tell her I’m heading on down to the kitchen. I’ve got to start getting the desserts ready.”

  Samms appeared in the doorway. He nodded curtly at me, then crooked his finger at Daniel and stalked off. Daniel leaned over, pecked my cheek, and then hurried off down the hall after Samms. I saw the two of them pause for a moment, and it looked as if Samms were showing Daniel something, but I was too far away to be sure. The two of them moved off toward the grimoire room, and I turned to go the opposite way toward the kitchen. My hand was on the knob when I paused. The sound of angry voices was coming from behind the kitchen door. They were too low-pitched for me to distinguish anything, so I slid the door open just a crack, enough to peer inside. I saw Daisy, her face flushed, talking earnestly to a figure all in red who stood in front of her—the Red Death. As I watched, the figure in red shook her head emphatically and started gesturing with her arms. Daisy shook her head, leaned over, and whispered something in the other’s ear. Whatever she said must have really rubbed the Red Death the wrong way, because she gave Daisy a push backward. Daisy regained her footing, and then, eyes blazing, jabbed a finger under the other woman’s nose.

  “I mean it,” I heard Daisy say loudly. “You’ve got to get out of here now, before you’re seen. If anyone’s in danger here, it’s you.”

  The other woman’s arm shot out. “Don’t be a fool. If you’re right, you’re in as much, if not more, danger than I.”

  “Let’s just agree we are both at risk.” Daisy dragged her hand through her hair. “I’ve got to be positive before we move forward, though, so just put a lid on it. Don’t do anything until I tell you to.”

  “You mean you don’t want me to break—”

  “NO!” Daisy’s response was vehement. “Not until I say so. Let me handle it.”

  “You are so stubborn. It will be the death of you,” spat out the woman in red. With that remark she pulled the red cloak from around her shoulders and flung it at the other girl.

  I hesitated. What had Daisy’s companion been going to break? My first thought was break into the grimoire room. I was just about to push the door open and confront them when loud laughter sounded from farther down the hall. Cursing bad timing, I quickly backed away from the door and leaned against the wall as three girls dressed as a fairy, a witch, and a clown sailed past me, giggling and laughing. They stopped a few feet away from me, huddled in a circle, and it was a good ten minutes before they meandered on their way again. The minute they vanished, I hurried back and pushed the door wide open.

  The room was empty.

  I walked all the way inside. “Daisy?” I called softly. “Are you all right?”

  No answer.

  At the far end of the room was a door. I hurried over and jerked it open. Beyond was a storeroom, with canned goods and paper products cramming every shelf. Off to the left was another door. I crossed over, opened it, and peered out. There was a long corridor outside, and far down the darkened hallway I could hear laughter and music. Apparently this was a back entrance into the main ballroom—and it explained how they’d disappeared so fast. As I started to turn away, the toe of my shoe crunched down on an object by the doorjamb. I leaned down to pick it up.

  It was a small purple stone.

  I slipped it into my skirt pocket, and then retraced my steps back to the kitchen. I was anxious to track Daisy down, but right now my energies had to be focused on dessert. I crossed to the double-door refrigerator and opened it. For a huge crowd like this, sheet cakes were the best bet. I’d made eight of them, all covered in yummy orange and black frosting. Cupcakes and cookies worked, too, and I’d made huge batches of pumpkin-shaped cupcakes and cookies in the shape of cats, bats, and spiders, all covered in frosting and sprinkles. I pulled the cupcake trays out of the refrigerators, and then went into the little side room where we’d stored the cookies. I counted the trays, frowned, and then counted them again.

  I was one tray short. Dammit. Somehow it must have gotten left in the SUV. Well, no matter. It was parked right outside the service entrance. I had my car keys. I could just run out, get it, and no one would be the wiser. Then I could search for Daisy with a clear conscience.

  I stepped outside and immediately wished I’d put on my jacket—the night air was cold! I hurried over to my SUV and, as I hit the button to open the rear door, suddenly paused. The hairs on the back of my neck were all standing at attention, and I had an idea it wasn’t from the cold. I was just about to open the door when I heard a raspy voice at my ear.

  “Watch your step, Red. You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you.”

  I gasped and started to turn. My hood slid back, and I heard a sharp intake of breath. Then something strong and hard slammed into my back, sending me pitching forward. I caught a flash of something black out of the corner of my eye before my head hit the side of the SUV. I saw flashing lights dance before my eyes and then . . . nothing.

  TWELVE

  “Nora! Nora! Can you hear me?”

  My head pounded like a little guy was inside it, shaking a pair of maracas, but I could hear Daniel’s voice over the din, though it sounded weak and far away. My eyes were heavy, as if two giant weights rested on them, and there was a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Another voice, not the comforting rumble of Daniel’s but harsh and raspy, reverberated through my brain.

  Watch your step, Red. You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you.

  My eyes flew open and I sat up, startling Daniel. He’d shed the wolf mask but still wore the blue jacket and red bow tie. I gulped in breath after breath. “I—someone pushed me into the car—from behind—” I finally managed to gasp out.

  “Yes, you have quite a lump on the back of your head. Just lie still.”

  Daniel eased me back to the ground, but a few seconds later I was straining to sit up again. “The desserts,” I mumbled. “They have to be served.”

  “The earnest businesswoman right to the end, aren’t you?” Daniel chuckled. “Don’t worry, Chantal and Rick have it under control. I can call an EMT. Just relax, now.”

  “EMT!” I strained to sit back up. “I don’t need an EMT.”

  “Oh, yes you do.” He put both his hands on my shoulders and eased me back onto the ground. “Just lie still. You might have a concussion.”

  “Honestly, Daniel. We Charles’s are known for our hard heads. I’m fine. Help me up, please.” As he hesitated I added, “If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it on my own.”

  He rolled his eyes, then stood and offered me his hand. I’m not quite sure exactly how I managed it, because my
legs did feel like jelly, but somehow I got to my feet. I took two steps and leaned against the side of my SUV. “See. Perfectly fine.”

  “Uh-huh. I know better than to argue with you.” Daniel shook his head. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

  “I noticed I was short one cookie tray, so I came out to see if it had been left in the car.” I touched my sore spot gingerly. “I heard a noise, like something rustling, and then someone whispered in my ear.”

  Daniel’s brows drew together. “Do you remember what was said?”

  I found it hurt a bit to nod. “Yeah. It didn’t make much sense. Something about watching my step, and taking what doesn’t belong to me.”

  I touched the back of my head gingerly. “Black.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Right before I conked out, I saw a flash of black. It could have been a cape, or a coat. Or—oh my God, that’s it.”

  A picture rose in my mind’s eye of the scarlet woman flinging her red cloak in Daisy’s face. I whipped my gaze to Daniel’s. “I had my hood up, covering my head. So when my attacker called me Red, obviously he or she wasn’t referring to my hair color.”