Claws Bared

by Sheryl Nantus

“Evidence would say otherwise,” Bran said smoothly, the invisible slap ringing loud in the room.

  I placed myself between the two men. “What’s the worst that could happen if the news broke that she was taking bribes? She might lose her place on the town council and that’s it—maybe a fine for corruption but I don’t see any serious jail time happening. Is that enough to murder Hancock for?”

  “I’d say no. And I don’t know why she’d be taking payoffs,” Trace drawled. “Her business is one of the few successful ones in the area. Maybe she’s got some sort of gambling problem or something that’d justify all this but...” He gave me a wistful look. “We don’t usually kill for nothing. You know that.”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed. This was turning into something far more complicated than just an angry woman killing a wandering lover. We were getting into local politics and going much further afield than I was comfortable with.

  “I’m going to go talk to Lisa Darning,” I said.

  “Is that wise?” Bran replied. “If she’s guilty of the murder you’re putting yourself in a dangerous spot.” He glanced at Trace before continuing. “She didn’t have a problem killing Hancock—she’d have no problem killing again.”

  “If she’s guilty she’ll answer to the Board and to the Pride,” Trace said.

  “Not to the courts?” Bran threw out the bait. “What sort of justice is that?”

  “Let’s leave that for the moment.” I jumped in before the truce shattered in front of me. “She was lying to me in our first interview. Let’s see how she reacts now.”

  Trace stood up, his back ramrod straight. “If she did kill him it was not to protect the family. That would make it outside of the family’s rules. We’ve had Felis arrested before for criminal offenses. You don’t get a pass just because you’re part of the Pride.” His eyes were hard and unforgiving. “You answer for your crimes.”

  It was a compromise, an olive twig.

  I stood up and crooked a finger at Trace. “I’m going out.”

  Bran looked at me, hard brown eyes unwilling to concede an inch of possession. “You taking him along?”

  “He’s family.” It was impossible to put my emotions in words.

  Bran got to his feet and took my arm. “May I talk to you in private?”

  I let him lead me to the bathroom. As he closed the door I saw Trace grinning, a smug look begging to be smacked off.

  “Are you sure about this? His uncle is a Board member,” Bran asked. “What makes you think he’s not working both sides here? What if he drags you into the woods and kills you to keep their little secret?”

  “You don’t think I can take care of myself?” I crossed my arms in front of me. “Hate to break it to you but I was doing fine before you rode into my life.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he growled, his face turning scarlet. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt ’cause he can get all furry.”

  I tamped down my rising annoyance. “I’ll be fine. Look, I have to trust someone local down here.” I waved at the wall. “He’s not going anywhere and I might as well put him to work. Besides, I need his help.”

  “You need his help or you want his help?” Bran moved inside my personal space, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You want to be with him?”

  I resisted the urge to break away from the close scrutiny. “This isn’t about you and me or Trace. It’s about giving me the best odds to find out who killed Hancock.”

  “Is it?” Bran’s dark eyes searched mine. “Because I’m not keen on sharing.”

  “I wasn’t asking your permission.” I held back on the snarl building in my throat. “Save the personal crisis for later.” I reached for the doorknob. “Sulk if you want or you help me find a killer. Your choice.”

  Before he could answer I was out of the room.

  I picked up my leather duster and slipped it on. Bran came out of the washroom and settled himself at the table while Trace moved to stand by me.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” The words sounded odd to my ears as I prepared to hunt a killer. I might as well be going out for bread and milk.

  Bran let out a snort. “And what am I supposed to do? Knit booties while you’re gone?”

  “I need you to get online and use those journalistic connections to find out something, anything about the club and Hancock. If you can find out what he uses to collect his notes it’d be great. Cell phone, whatever.”

  Bran moved to the table, entwining his fingers and cracking his knuckles. “I do have mad finger skills, as you know.” He leered at me.

  I winced at the loud popping noise. “Down boy. Put that energy into finding out what Hancock dug up. He must have at least had an email account—maybe he was emailing files to someone else, backups. See if you can sneak in.”

  “You mean, hack?” Bran’s eyebrows rose. “I am shocked, shocked that you would suggest such a thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just do that voodoo you do. You’re a reporter—get me something to report.”

  I strode from the room, Trace close behind.

  “We’ll take my car.” I ignored the curious smirk from the hotel clerk. “You, you keep your eyes open for any trouble.”

  “Like?” He scrambled to open the front door for me, following close behind as we headed for the parked cars.

  “Like someone trying to stop me.” I jammed the car key in the lock. “Bran isn’t the only one who’ll be pissed if I get hurt or killed.”

  Trace’s directions to Lisa Darning’s business were as convoluted as a skein of twisted wool, taking us over the same bridge at least three times. He chuckled as I pulled into the parking lot, lightheaded from the curved and hilly roads.

  “Lord, how did your people settle this area?” I shook my head, fighting back the nausea.

  “It’s a gift,” he answered with a sly grin. “I can think of better ways to make you dizzy, though.”

  I put up my hand. “Save it, Romeo. Just stay here and behave.” I got out of the car before he could toss another snappy retort my way. Between him and Bran I could seriously consider giving up driving stick.

  The street looked like a child’s building kit, the bricks laid out in perfect lines with painted wooden signs designating each different store. The narrow lanes were lined with cobblestones, showing the original horse-and-buggy roads and the age of the town. I could imagine tourists scuttling along the sidewalk, snapping pictures of the rustic buildings and nattering to themselves about historical sites.

  At least before the recession hit, killing off any tourist trade. Add in the mills and mines closing and I could understand the appeal of a business, any business, which brought in money.

  Darning Print was wedged between a second-hand antique store and a skateboard shop, neither of which seemed to be bulging with customers.

  The smells hit me as I walked in. Ink, sweat, different types of paper running through greased machines and gears, flushed out on the other side with images and words. Peppermint gum, a barbecued brisket sandwich and cigar smoke made up part of the rest of the odors.

  I walked up to the counter and rang the small desk bell. A young woman scurried over to me, her long dark hair snapped back into a tight bun.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Lisa.”

  “Just a minute.” She headed down a narrow path between stacks of boxed paper and vanished from sight.

  I studied the samples spread out under the transparent plastic counter cover. Flyers for local yard sales, pages from the high school yearbook and one for the Cat’s Meow in blinding neon colors.

  Lisa flew toward me, her eyes blazing. She looked as if she was about to jump over the counter but veered toward the door at the last minute.

  “I didn’t expect you to come here,” she hissed. “What is it?”

  “I wanted to talk to you again.” I held my ground. “I didn’t realize I’d have to call and make an appointment.”

  He
r upper lip twitched, dangerously close to a scowl. “I told you all I know. What’s there to talk about?”

  “More.” I nodded toward the door. “Either you take me to your office or we go for a walk. Unless you want your employees to listen in as we discuss this right here at the counter.”

  A machine nearby went into a loud, grinding scream, throttling my threat. Lisa winced as the grinding moved down into a tolerable crunching noise.

  “That piece of shit’s been falling apart for years.” She held the swinging door open for me. “My office.”

  The corner office held a single dying fern in the far corner, almost hidden behind the stacks of paperwork on the old wooden desk. Lisa gestured at the empty chair, moving a pile of folders to see me from behind the desk.

  “As you can see, we’re pretty busy. Got a few big contracts and they’re all due at once. Usually you can hear a mouse around here.” She smiled. “But I’m not going to complain.”

  “Your current contracts include the Cat’s Meow?”

  “We do work for them.” She didn’t flinch from the question. “Last one was a set of lottery tickets for a slave auction a month ago. Steady money and they pay on time.”

  “Good customers?”

  She returned my steady stare with interest. “I’ve got better ones. But they’re up there in the top five.”

  “How well did you know Mike Hansa?” I shifted gears. “I know you said you liked him but not enough to sleep with him.” I shot her a girls-are-girls grin. “Were you being truthful about that?”

  She shifted in the chair, eyes darting around the room and settling on the fern. “I told you, I don’t do humans.” Her fingernails drummed on the desktop. “They’re disgusting.” Her upper lip curled up.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Disgusting enough for you to stuff money in his g-string?”

  Another nervous shift. “It was something different. Something out of the usual.”

  “I know there aren’t any Felis men allowed to work at the club.” I studied my own ragged attempts at fingernails. “I saw a lot of handsome humans when I was visiting the club. Not family, but...” I grinned. “Pretty darned tasty-looking. You telling me you never thought about walking on the wild side, not even once?” I tilted my head to one side. “Going for the other white meat?”

  Lisa blushed, a deep scarlet tickling every inch of visible skin. “I...I considered it.” Her eyes moved off the plant and came back to mine. “I asked him out, once. Thought I’d see what it was like.”

  “And?”

  She let her breath out in a disappointed sigh. “Not what I expected. A bit of a letdown.” Lisa rubbed her burning cheeks with both hands. “God, you must think I’m a damned, lying fool. Here I am all mouthy about not doing humans and you come here to hear me confess bagging a dead man.”

  “Well he wasn’t dead when you ‘bagged’ him.” I gave her what I hoped was an understanding smile. “Although I’ve had some dates where I did have to check for a pulse.”

  This brought a smile to her face, fighting back the embarrassment.

  “All show and no go?” I prodded.

  “We just, ah, didn’t mesh.” She straightened a pile of folders to her left. “It was quick and it wasn’t much fun for either one of us.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of what the other women would think? From what I’ve heard Mike didn’t date anyone, much less sleep with them.” I watched her continue to fondle the files.

  “It was a few months ago when he first arrived at the club,” she offered as she tapped the edges of the tower. “He hadn’t made up his mind then about keeping away from the locals, I guess. And we decided to keep it quiet in order to keep everyone happy. Guess we were both too embarrassed to put it on our resumes.”

  I studied her face. She stared at me directly, not the elusive eye dance I’d seen at the farm.

  “Where did you go for your one-time liaison?”

  “My car. Toyota Tercel. The club’s parking lot, believe it or not.” She wrinkled her nose. “It was a bit awkward.”

  “Tight squeeze.” I held back a chuckle, imagining the two adults wrestling inside the small car. “Should have sprung for a hotel room.”

  She giggled, the relief of telling her dark secret showing in the high-pitched sound. “Thought I was going to sprain something. I think he did—he was dancing odd for a few days afterwards.”

  I put on my sisterhood face. “I wish you had told me this before.”

  Lisa gave me a tight smile. “I knew I’d be the top suspect. You’re looking for a Felis who slashed him to death, a disgruntled lover or her mate. I’m an ex-lover in the technical sense but hardly disgruntled.” She surveyed her nails. “I had no reason to kill him. No angry husband or boyfriend in the wings waiting to take revenge. It was a one-time mistake and I didn’t want that spread around the Pride.” She let out a low, nervous breath. “I hope you’ll consider keeping this between us.”

  “Of course.” I sat back, trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair. “Did you ever talk to Mike about how he ended up in Penscotta, Pennsylvania, dancing in a small club?”

  She shrugged, crossing her legs under the generic sheet metal desk. “We didn’t talk much.” Her cheeks stayed scarlet at the memory. “Better things to do with his mouth, you know?”

  We both chuckled.

  I studied her face, looking for any sort of sign she was lying. A twitch of a lip, avoiding eye contact, arms crossed in front of her.

  Nothing. Either she was a darned good liar on the level of your average sociopath or she was telling the truth.

  “Did he ever ask you about your job on the town council? About how you kept voting to keep the club open?”

  Lisa frowned. “He asked me something about why I kept working when my business was doing so well, especially in today’s economy. I told him I wanted to serve the community—my council salary is a fraction of what I pull in from here.” She shook her head. “My political stance isn’t a big secret. Everyone sees me going to the club.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why he was killed? Something about the club?”

  “I’m exploring all possibilities.” It wasn’t a total lie.

  “I hope you find out who killed him,” Lisa said, and the tone in her voice was genuine. “It’s wrong to kill without good cause.”

  “You don’t think Mike’s killer had good cause?” I stared at her.

  She traced a circle on the scratched metal with one long finger. “I think killing over a woman or a man is wrong. We’ve got divorce laws, we’ve got equal rights—women are fully empowered in our society.” A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “Even before the rest of the world, if I recall my Felis history right.”

  I nodded. It’d been much harder back then to keep the family secret when you had strong women like Jess either running Prides or asserting their authority. Meek, mild women weren’t our forte.

  “And Mike might have been good in the sack or whatever, but you know we don’t kill without cause.” She repeated it as if convincing herself. “Kill without cause.” Lisa put her hands together, fingernails tapping against each other. “Do you still think I killed him?”

  “Someone did,” I responded, finding my voice.

  Lisa nodded. “But it wasn’t me. I have nothing to gain.”

  “You’re on the town council. There’s power there.” I stepped as lightly as I could through the minefield.

  Her lips split apart, reshaping into a wide grin. “Did someone put this into your head? Some whackadoodle theory about me taking bribes for votes? Do you know how often that gets tossed into my face for everything from garbage pickup days to library funding?” She answered her own question before I could reply. “I keep voting for the club because it’s good for the area. People may whine about the morality of male stripping and all that but the club’s parking lot is full every night.” She studied me for a minute before continuing. “I didn’t kill Mike Hansa. I have no reason to.”

  I shi
fted gears. “Why aren’t you on the Board? You’re pretty tough and you can handle the men. Saw that out on the farm.”

  She flushed again at the direct praise. “I’m busy here with my business and being on the town council.”

  “Doesn’t say you can’t be on the Board.” I drew my fingertips together in what I hoped was a sign of support. “Have you considered it?”

  “Sure.” She rolled her shoulders back, a note of pride in her voice. “Just waiting until one of the members retires or dies.”

  “You could challenge.” I gave her the sisterly eye again. “Jess didn’t get her spot by sitting back.”

  Her fingers began rattling out a different rhythm. “I’d have to be strong enough to beat down their yes-man.” She tilted her head toward the street. “McCallum has your babysitter Trace. Plussey could call up any number of strong men to stand for him. I’d be a fool to challenge and lose.”

  “Could challenge the chief,” I said.

  “Could but he’d call up the twins. I may be good but I can’t take either one of them on my best day.” She gave me a weary smile. “Believe me, I’m working on it. Takes a bit of work to convince someone to take on a challenge for you. Debts to be paid and all that.” Her eyes narrowed. “Carson’s racked up a lot of favors over the years from humans and Felis.”

  “Doing what sort of favors?”

  She gave me a knowing look. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  I stood up. There was no point in showing my hand about Mike’s real occupation, and she wasn’t giving off any more signals. “If you think of anything else please call.”

  She watched me from her office door as I threaded the maze back to the front door. A handful of employees gave me a fast look before turning back to the copying machines. I smelled a few Felis among them.

  I stopped and peered at the Cat’s Meow flyer under the plastic sheet again before going to my car. Sophia Martin posing with Mike Hancock and both smiling like they’d eaten fat canaries.

  “Find out anything?” Trace asked as I got in.

  “That she’s a lousy liar.” I dialed Bran’s cell. “I don’t think she killed Hancock.”