Before she could think about it further, Xena began yapping and clawing at the closed bathroom door. Alicia paid no attention.
‘I’d better order another pair of boots before Ethan notices they’re missing and all hell breaks loose,’ she confided. Handing Kat a leash patterned with faux diamonds, she dismissed her with a bright, ‘OK, kids – have fun.’
As Kat prised Xena away from the bathroom door, a strong herbal scent wafted out. Bubble bath? A scented candle? She clutched the wriggling Pom to her chest. ‘I’ll bring Xena back in an hour, Mrs Swann.’
‘Darling, you must have her for longer than that! Take her to the beach. Enjoy! Keep her overnight if you fancy it! Grumpy Viktor would be thrilled.’
Kat wanted to protest that that wouldn’t work because she still had Mr Bojangles to visit and Pax to walk when she got home, but the actress turned a radiant gaze on her.
‘Kat Wolfe, this gift you have of communicating with animals, it’s awesome. I’m lost in admiration. Ethan thinks you’re a wizard with horses, too. Thanks for taking us on.’
Kat melted and found herself unable to mention Pax or Mr B, or the fact neither she nor the Lambs had so far been paid for livery, horse feed, grooming or dog-minding.
‘You’re welcome,’ she mumbled, stricken with shyness.
Leaving the hotel with Xena, Kat’s head felt fuzzy. She kept seeing Alicia’s serene, knowing smile as she praised her. It was the same one the actress had used on Viktor when he couldn’t find her booking.
It was, Kat thought later, as if she’d been hypnotized.
The spell Alicia had cast over her was still working an hour later as Kat hesitated outside Mario Rossi’s motorhome, clutching Xena’s lead in one hand and her phone in the other. She’d written five different versions of a text explaining that Pomeranians and pythons didn’t mix, and it would be best for everyone if she could return Xena to the Grand Hotel Majestic right away. Once again, she deleted it.
She tied the dog’s lead to an iron rung. ‘Sit, Xena. Stay,’ she instructed. ‘I won’t be long.’
The miniature Pom lay down obediently and rested her nose on her sandy paws. She was worn out. Bluebell Bay was one of the few local beaches to allow dogs in the summer, and Xena had swum and chased balls with two manic Jack Russells. While she was playing, Kat had spotted the harbour-master picking up plastic litter. She’d asked him if there’d been any shark sightings around the time the cliff fell the previous Saturday.
‘Sharks? This isn’t Martha’s Vineyard, you know, home of the hungry great white. There are a few fierce crabs and minnows I could show you, but otherwise I promise it’s quite safe to get back in the water.’ His laughter had followed her as she sprinted off to catch Xena, who’d stolen a child’s ice cream.
Letting herself into Mario’s space-age motorhome, Kat wondered again what he did for a living. There was a new photo of him in a frame on the coffee table. His black hair was wet and he was grinning in a helmet, balanced on an upturned camouflage kayak.
Because Kat was a detective to her fingertips, she couldn’t resist inspecting the cupboard where she’d seen the squeaky-clean coasteering equipment the day before. The helmet, wetsuit and buoyancy aid were still there, but now looked as if they’d been used. Mario had told the truth about that.
In the bedroom, she heaved a sigh. The vivarium lid was hanging off. Mr B had escaped again.
She was about to search for him when she noticed a pungent herbal scent similar to the one in the Swanns’ suite. It reminded her of a Chinese liniment her mum and Nurse Tina used if an animal had muscular aches and pains. She sourced it to the black lacquered cabinet.
The top drawer was locked, but the other, larger, drawer rolled open, clinking as it came. With the exception of a bag of shiitake mushrooms, it was packed with glass jars filled with amber or dark liquids, some of which included berries and slices of ginger. Chinese traditional medicine. All except two of the labels were in Chinese characters. There was a ‘Migraine Relief’ salve and a yellow bottle labelled ‘Propolis for Wounds’, both bought in Chinatown, London.
Kat considered the selection. Had Alicia been using herbal remedies such as these? Did she or Ethan get migraines or need wound treatment for Xena’s bites?
A strangled yap distracted her. She ran into the living area. The door had swung open. What if the python had got out and was now slithering around the caravan park?
But that potential disaster paled into insignificance when she spotted a diamond lead lying twisted on the ground. Xena was missing.
Slamming the door behind her, Kat began a frenzied search. ‘Boy, do you have a gift with animals, Kat Wolfe,’ she berated herself as she tore up and down the rows of motorhomes and caravans. ‘A gift for losing them, anyway.’
She hunted the length and breadth of the caravan park. No one had seen a Pomeranian. Xena was either lost or had been snatched by dog thieves. Pomeranians – especially those owned by Hollywood stars – were in high demand. It was all Kat’s fault! How would she ever be able to face Alicia Swann?
Numb with despair, she returned to the motor-home. For all she knew, Mr B was on the loose too, ready to unleash a wave of terror among the Durdle Door campers.
When she discovered him coiled up in the motorhome driver’s seat, tail over the steering wheel as if he’d been planning a quick getaway, Kat could have wept with relief. ‘Mr B, you can’t keep doing this Houdini routine. My heart can’t take it.’
The python uncoiled lazily and slid between the seats, where he wedged and could go no further. When Kat leaned over to try to help, the cause of the obstruction became grimly apparent. His belly bulged with a Pomeranian-sized lump. Two stumpy legs were outlined, as if Xena had made a last bid for freedom before succumbing to the inevitable.
‘Keep Mr B away from anything small and furry,’ Mario had warned.
Kat sat on the sofa, too shocked to cry. How could she have been so moronic? She’d gone hurtling around the caravan park without pausing to consider that a small, scared dog was much more likely to follow her pet-sitter into the motorhome than go looking for trouble in the big wide world. While Kat was outside conducting a fruitless search, Xena was inside being swallowed whole.
How was she going to admit to Alicia Swann that her warrior princess had ended her days as a canapé for a royal python?
And how could she tell Mario Rossi that the reason Mr B had indigestion was because he’d dined on a film star’s Pomeranian? The fur alone would give the snake cramps.
It was the worst day of Kat’s life, no competition. Her heart ached for dear little Xena. She didn’t deserve such a grisly end.
Someone rapped smartly at the door. Kat’s first instinct was to hide in a cupboard. She wasn’t ready to deal with Mario. Then she realized that he’d hardly knock when he had a key.
She peered out of the one-way glass. A harried-looking woman gripping a pram and the hand of a ponytailed young girl glared up at the motorhome.
Kat pointed a warning finger at Mr B, still stuck between the seats: ‘Don’t move a muscle.’ She opened the door a smidgeon. ‘Sorry, Mario’s not here at the moment.’
The woman said abruptly, ‘Do you own a Pomeranian?’
Kat gulped. Had this person witnessed Xena’s gruesome demise? Was she an animal welfare officer? Was the video already up on YouTube, alongside the ones of anacondas swallowing alligators and cows?
She stepped outside, smiling sweetly. ‘What kind of Pomeranian?’ she stalled.
‘The miniature kind.’ The mum gestured at the pram. ‘Show her, Imogen.’
Grudgingly, the girl lifted the cover. Beneath it, Xena was tucked up in a Peter Rabbit rug, her head on a baby pillow. She was fast asleep.
Kat was speechless. If this was Xena, who or what had Mr B eaten? ‘Uh, yes, that’s my Pom. Thanks for bringing her back.’
‘I can’t apologize enough,’ said the mum. ‘Immie’s been begging me for a dog since she was old enough to talk. S
he saw yours and couldn’t resist playing with her. I don’t know what came over her. You must have been so worried.’ She let out a sigh. ‘It was only a game, though,’ she went on defensively. ‘She wasn’t stealing her, I promise. Say sorry, Immie.’
Kat’s heart went out to the girl. ‘It’s OK, Immie, really it is. I adore dogs as much as you do, so I understand. Xena can be nervous of strangers, though. Did she try to nip you or growl at you?’
The ponytail shook. ‘No, she loved me. She was gentle.’
Kat studied her thoughtfully. ‘Immie, would you mind looking after Xena for a few more minutes?’ she asked, putting a leash on the Pomeranian and lifting her out of the pram. ‘There’s something I need to do.’
‘She’d love to,’ said the grateful mum. ‘We’re in that caravan over there.’
Back in the motorhome, Kat found a note Mario had left, in plain view on the kitchen counter. Had she seen it earlier, it would have saved her an epic amount of suffering.
Hi, Kat,
You’ll notice that Mr B has gained a few kgs overnight! He’s been off his food for weeks but decided this a.m. to devour a chicken I’d left defrosting on the counter. No dinner for me! Thanks for taking care of him.
Mario
Kat yawned. It had been a big day. The Armchair Adventurers’ Club breakfast with Edith and Harper and the surprising news about Harry Holt felt as if it had happened a week ago, not a mere eight hours. It was strange to think that Harry was in a cell, and Wolfe & Lamb had a new mission: clear his name or help prove beyond doubt that he killed Johnny Roswell.
With the chicken in his tummy, Mr B weighed twice as much as usual. It took all of Kat’s strength and python-whispering skills to ease him out from between the seats and lug him over to the vivarium. He was sleepy and looked extremely sorry for himself. Indigestion was no fun for anyone, not even royal snakes.
Before Kat left, she petted him and apologized for wrongly accusing him of gobbling Xena. She didn’t care what anyone said, pythons had feelings too.
The Bentley was pearly green and glistened like a forest in winter. The neighbours came out to marvel at it as a suited-and-booted chauffeur stowed the Wolfes’ scruffy holdalls. Kat slid into the back seat between her mum and Harper.
‘It’s a miracle! I can’t believe we’re finally on our way to Hamilton Park.’
The chauffeur put the key in the ignition. He smiled at Kat’s mum in the rear-view mirror. ‘If everyone is comfortable, shall we be on our way, Dr Wolfe?’
‘Yes, thanks! No, wait!’ said the vet all in one breath as her phone rang in her handbag.
‘Don’t answer it,’ begged Kat, to no avail.
‘Oh that’s terrible!’ said Dr Wolfe. ‘What a disaster. Hold on a moment, I’m going try to get better signal.’ She climbed out of the car.
Kat hopped out too, chest tight with disappointment. ‘What’s the beastly prime minster forcing Grandfather to do this time?’ she demanded when her mum got off the phone. ‘What excuse does the PM have today?’
‘Watch your manners, Katarina!’ Her mum cast an apologetic glance at the chauffeur. He was programming the GPS, trying not to smile.
She steered Kat away. ‘Honey, Janey Nowak’s cat has been hit by a car and needs an emergency operation. If he survives, he’ll need intensive care. How would you and Harper feel about going to Hamilton Park without me? You’ll be very well looked after. I’m so sorry, but it can’t be helped.’
‘Why do people have to drive so fast?’ cried Kat. ‘First Pax, and now Janey’s cat. Hope she makes it. Don’t worry, Mum – I understand.’
And she did. She was proud that she had a mum who’d choose saving an animal over a luxury weekend at a stately home every time. Though it didn’t stop Kat wishing that fate hadn’t intervened and that that same mum could be with her, especially when she was a nervous wreck about being reunited with her absent grandfather.
‘How about taking Pax along for the ride?’ suggested her mother, reading her mind. ‘She can keep an eye on you for me.’
Kat looked at the fine leather seats in the Bentley. ‘Grandfather might not want a dog in his expensive car.’
They consulted the chauffeur. ‘If his granddaughter wishes to take her dog, I shouldn’t think His Lordship would mind. He’s wild about animals himself.’
Kat didn’t correct him on the ‘her dog’ part. She liked the sound of it.
Shortly afterwards, the Bentley climbed the narrow road out of Bluebell Bay. Pax hung from the window, chocolate ears flapping in the wind. The sun made diamonds of the sheep on the emerald fields of Dorset.
Harper gave Kat a Look at us, off on an adventure in a Bentley! grin, because she knew her friend was miserable about her mum not coming and anxious about staying with the grandfather she barely knew.
Kat grinned back, laughing when Pax offered her a bandaged paw. The chauffeur laughed too and invited them to help themselves to ginger beer and homemade vegan banana bread from a hamper. Soon, it really did feel as if they were embarking on an adventure holiday.
‘Thanks for coming, Harper,’ Kat said. ‘I wasn’t sure if your dad could spare you.’
‘Honestly? I think he’s thrilled that I’ll be away from the Jurassic Dragon insanity for a few days. Ever since the news broke about Johnny’s skull, Dad’s had reporters crawling everywhere. He’s had to take on extra security. It’s costing a fortune.’
Harper’s phone peeped. It was a text from Edith, wishing them a wonderful weekend.
P.S. The book that Harry borrowed and never returned was The Sixth Extinction. He always was fascinated by what caused the dinosaurs to perish and whether it could happen again. He’s been denied bail. A flight risk, the judge said xx
A cement truck clattered by. Harper took advantage of the racket to say in Kat’s ear, ‘If Harry’s guilty, I guess the judge did the right thing. If he’s innocent, we need to prove it as fast as we can.’
‘We’ll carry on investigating while we’re at Hamilton Park,’ her friend reassured her.
‘How? Dad insisted I leave my laptop behind. Apparently, I could use more fresh air.’
‘We’ll find a way.’
The journey to Buckinghamshire’s Chiltern Hills took two-and-a-half hours. While Harper slept, Kat watched the scenery go by, wondering whether Mr B had recovered from his tummy ache and how Tina was coping with Xena. She’d persuaded the veterinary nurse to take care of the Pomeranian for the weekend, after Alicia had messaged late on Friday to say that she’d come down with a cold and Ethan was running a fever.
NATURALLY, we don’t want to pass on our lurgy! Any chance you can take care of my WARRIOR PRINCESS till Monday?? WE’LL PAY YOU DOUBLE!! Thanks, Kat Wolfe! GREATEST Pet-Minder EVER! A.S. xx
Alicia had been as fit as an Olympian when Kat has seen her just five hours earlier, so it was hard to credit that the actress was suddenly ‘AT DEATH’S DOOR’, as she’d claimed. However, clouds of herbal steam had been issuing from her bathroom, so it was just possible that she’d been inhaling eucalyptus or tea tree oil to ease her sinuses.
No problem! Get well soon! Kat had texted back, even though finding an eleventh-hour pet-sitter for a dog with Xena’s personality was a big problem. Had Tina not come to the rescue, she’d have been stuck.
Now, she debated whether to message Alicia to check whether she or Ethan had dropped the black metal card with the gold dragon on it. In the end, she decided against it. If the card did belong to the Swanns, they might insist that the chauffeur turn the Bentley around and drive to the Grand Hotel Majestic that very minute. As far as Kat was concerned, they could jolly well wait till Monday. She was going to Hamilton Park if it was the last thing she did.
She dozed after that, surfacing as the Bentley braked in front of fortified iron gates flanked by snarling concrete lions and a bank of CCTV cameras. An armed guard with a clipboard bent down to inspect the girls and dog. The driver proceeded along an avenue of 500-year-old oaks with roots like din
osaur feet. Branches entwined overhead.
Pax whimpered and pressed her nose to the window. A dark bay horse was flying across a meadow. A wiry rider with short spiky hair bent low over its shoulders. As Kat watched, a pheasant exploded from the long grass in their path. The horse shied so violently it almost fell.
The ancient trunks of the oaks interrupted Kat’s view. She held her breath, certain that the rider must be lying smashed to pieces. But when the pair reappeared, the rider was on board and the horse was cantering easily. They sailed over a five-barred gate and were gone.
Kat said, ‘Who was that?’
‘Who was who?’ asked the chauffeur.
Harper sat up. ‘What did I miss?’
‘The best rider I’ve ever seen. A teenage boy, I think. His horse was spooked by a pheasant.’
The driver braked to avoid a squirrel. ‘That would be a guest. We get a lot of them. Get a lot of wildlife at Hamilton Park too. His Lordship won’t allow any shooting on the estate.’ He chuckled. ‘Sometimes, I think he prefers animals to people.’
Kat felt better. If her grandfather loved animals as much as she did, they’d get along fine.
‘He’s a good man,’ the chauffeur went on, ‘but you’d never know it from the newspapers. They call him the Dark Lord, and not just because his first name is Dirk. He is tough, I grant you that. Wouldn’t be Minister of Defence if he wasn’t. But around the estate, you won’t hear nought said against him.’
Lord Hamilton-Crosse’s house was on the brow of a forested hill. As the Bentley crunched to a halt in the gravel of the circular drive, Kat felt an overpowering urge to scream at the chauffeur to drive on. She wanted to go home to her mum and the animal clinic, where everything was normal and didn’t reek of money.
Kat Wolfe Takes the Case Page 9