by Delia James
I sank onto the bench in the breakfast nook and watched them both.
I am not a cat expert. Alistair is the first animal I’ve ever owned personally, and he’s not exactly your typical domestic shorthair. But I had lived with my roommates’ pets, and my family ran through the usual series of furry mammals of various sizes and species when I was growing up. Ruby was hungry, and she was cold, but she looked pretty clean and she was eating, so I guessed she must be basically all right.
I was grateful for it. There was no way I was going to be able to get her properly checked out by Rachael, or anybody else, until I figured out how to let people know she was here and okay, preferably without getting myself arrested.
34
“ANNA! OH, THANK goodness!”
Val wrapped me in a hard hug the second I stepped in through the B and B’s kitchen door. “I was worried something happened!”
“Something did.” I looked over her shoulder at the uncharacteristically dim and silent kitchen. “Uh, where’s Roger?”
“He took Melissa over to his sister’s so I could . . . concentrate on other things.” Val twisted her hands. She looked pale, and her curly hair hung loose around her shoulders. She kept pushing it back out of her face. “What happened? Please, please, tell me it’s something good!” she demanded.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I found Ruby.”
“What?!” Val grabbed me by both shoulders. “Anna, that’s fantastic! Is she all right? Where is she?”
“My house.”
“What? How is that even possible?”
“Alistair,” I reminded her. “I’m guessing he found her soon after she went missing. I don’t know how, but he got her to the cottage, and he’s been hiding her there ever since.”
Valerie put out a hand to steady herself against the count-er. “But . . . why?”
“I don’t know.”
“But he’s your familiar.”
“He’s still a cat. Clear communication is not exactly his thing.”
Val frowned but conceded the point. She knew Alistair almost as well as I did. “But she is okay?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“Oh, jeez, Anna,” she breathed. “You’ve got to tell somebody, right away. If you’re caught with Ruby, they’ll arrest you for holding stolen goods.”
Or for grand theft or burglary or murder, or all of the above.
“How am I going to explain her, though?” I spread my hands, like I thought I might be able to grab hold of an answer. “Nobody is going to believe Attitude Cat just happened to pick my basement to hide in.”
Val closed her mouth so sharply, her teeth clicked. “This is why Kenisha always tells us to keep magic out of law enforcement.”
“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”
Val perched herself on one of the tall stools next to the brushed-steel counters. She nudged another toward me with her slippered toe, and I climbed up.
“At least we can let Julia know that there wasn’t a witch involved with Ramona’s death,” Valerie said, clearly trying to find a silver lining somewhere on the cloud hanging over us. “The only reason she couldn’t find Ruby was the wards on your house.”
“Um . . .”
“I don’t like that ‘um,’ Anna,” Val told me sternly. “Or that look.”
I didn’t either, but there was no backing away from it. “Val, there’s something I have to say. I don’t want to, but I have to.”
“What is it?”
“When we were in Ramona’s apartment, we found her tools for the craft, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Her books of shadow are missing.” I said. Val looked at me blankly. “If somebody was looking for information or evidence, or if they wanted to cover something up, they would think to take a laptop, but . . .”
“But only another witch would know that there might be something useful in the books of shadow,” Val finished for me.
“And then there’s the fact that her wards were broken.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right. I’d forgotten about the wards.”
I looked at her and I didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t. Slowly, Val realized what was keeping me so quiet.
“Anna, you cannot possibly think I broke Ramona’s wards or stole her books.”
“I don’t. Really. I just . . .”
“You just found out I used to be a thief and thought maybe I’d started up again!”
“No! I promise, Val, I never!” Except I did and I had, and I really kind of hated myself for it. “I just . . . You and Kristen are friends. You watched each other’s backs for a long time. I know what that means to you . . .”
Even in the kitchen’s half-light I could see how Val’s freckled face flushed pink. “I don’t believe we are actually talking about this!”
Neither did I. “Val, Kenisha knows the books are missing.”
She froze. “Kenisha was there? I mean, I saw you two talking at the funeral . . .”
“I couldn’t go to Ramona’s apartment alone.”
“Wait, wait.” Val shook her head, like she was trying to knock something loose. “What were you even doing in Ramona’s apartment? You can’t tell me it was Kenisha’s idea.”
“It wasn’t. It was Rachael Forsythe’s. She said she wanted my help to find out what happened to her mother and gave me the keys to Ramona’s condo so I could go try to find the laptop.”
“Just like that?” Val’s forehead wrinkled.
“Well, almost. I’m not sure.” Val glared at me. That look was going to give Melissa trouble when she got older. I mean, I was a grown woman, and I still couldn’t stop myself from confessing about my conversation with Julia and the spell she’d worked for me and on me.
Val pressed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. No. This is not good. There’s no telling where a spell like that will take you.”
“I’m starting to get that idea,” I said. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it.”
“You shouldn’t have agreed! Julia should never have suggested it! What was she thinking!”
“Probably the same thing I was. That we need to figure this out fast, before anybody else gets hurt.”
“Except that’s not what’s happened.”
“No,” I agreed. “It really isn’t. And it gets worse.” I told her about the beads and the scrapes on the doors.
When I finished, it was Val’s turn to be quiet and visibly miserable.
“Val.” I took her by the shoulder. “I swear, I don’t think you had anything to do with this, and I know Kenisha’s not going to say anything . . .”
“Until she has to,” Valerie breathed. “And she’s going to have to because Kris has been lying about what she’s doing, and because she’s been staying here, and because everybody knows that she . . . that we . . .” She stopped. “What am I going to do, Anna?”
“We,” I said firmly, “are going to finish what we’ve started and figure this out. And just in case that takes a little while, we are going to call Enoch Gravesend. He is going to go with us to talk to Kenisha on the record, before she or anybody else has come to talk to you.”
“You’re right. You’re right. I just . . . You get so used to keeping some things a secret, it’s hard to know when it’s time to tell the truth.”
“I know, Val, believe me.”
Val was about to say something in answer, but she never got the chance. A staccato banging cut through the quiet kitchen. We both jumped.
“What the heck . . . ?” Val hopped off the stool while I was still dealing with the fact that my heart was racing out of control, and I was telling myself it was just someone knocking—no, pounding like there was no tomorrow—on the front door.
“A guest forgot a key?” I asked.
“We’re closed,” she
reminded me, snapping on the lights in the foyer.
The B and B’s grand front door was flanked by two stained-glass sidelights. A face pressed up against the gold pane. When the face’s owner saw us, she started pounding again, like her life depended on it.
Maybe it did, because that person on the porch was Pam Abernathy.
35
“MRS. MCDERMOTT?” PAM all but fell into the foyer when Valerie opened the door. “I’m . . .”
“Pam Abernathy,” Val said. “I recognize you. Please come in.”
Except Pam already was in. Clearly, she’d rushed to get here. Her hat was crooked and her coat misbuttoned. She clutched one glove in her hand. I guessed she’d taken it off so she could pound the door louder.
“Thank you.” Pam gasped and straightened up, visibly trying to get her breath and composure back. “I . . .” But she stopped, and she looked at me, probably noticing for the first time that I was even there. “Oh. Ah. Hello, um, Anna.” She did not wait for an answer before turning back to Valerie. “I’m so sorry to intrude like this, Mrs. McDermott, but I need your help.”
“It’s Valerie,” said Val. “And how can I help?”
“You have to tell me what Kris has been saying to you.”
Ah.
“You know about the arrest, then?” said Val slowly.
“I know it happened, but I can’t get in to see her. And I can’t wait. The story is out. By tomorrow, it will be all over the news that Attitude Cat’s owner killed Ramona Forsythe.”
“But she didn’t do it!” snapped Valerie.
“Yes, I know that.” Pam’s voice trembled. “But when people hear about an arrest, especially when it’s someone connected with a celebrity or a famous brand, they assume the worst.” She gripped the glove like she meant to strangle it. “We—I have to get out in front of this story. It’s the only way we can help Kristen.” Pam grabbed Val’s shoulder hard enough that my friend winced. “If she’s said anything to you, anything that the police might be able to use against her, twisting it, of course, because we know . . .”
“She didn’t do it,” Val finished. She also pried Pam’s fingers off her shoulder.
Pam, realizing what she was doing, lifted her hand away and smoothed down her rumpled, crooked coat.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But this is awful. It’s awful for me—us—and for Kristen. I know what I sound like, but really, I don’t want anything to happen to her. Please,” she said again. Her whole body was shaking now.
“Look, why don’t you come into the living room,” Val said. “We can all talk, okay?”
Pam looked at me, not at all thrilled to have me included in the conversation. But in the end, she just shrugged and followed Valerie.
Val took us both into the B and B’s normally sunny great room. She flipped on the switch for the chandelier and pulled the drapes shut across the French doors that led to the terrace.
Pam sat down on the gracefully curved sofa but did not take off her coat or her hat or let go of that poor, abused glove.
“Pam . . .” I sat down across from her on one of the tapestry chairs. I also hesitated. I did not want to have to ask this, but Pam was the one person besides Kristen who would know about the business around Attitude Cat. “Was there any reason you know of that Kristen would need to go to New York on short notice?”
“New York?” Pam’s eyes darted from me to Valerie, who was standing by the fireplace and looked like she wished she didn’t have to be in the room at all. “No. Why?”
“It’s just that, I was wondering . . .” I watched Pam twist her glove. The thing was going to start begging for mercy any second now. “There’s a rumor going around that there might be a problem with the new Best Petz line.”
“What!” Pam started to her feet. “That’s ridiculous! What rumor?”
“A rumor that the new premium food is, well, it might be a case of false advertising. Maybe Kristen was trying to find out more—”
“Then she would have come to me! She wouldn’t have gone gallivanting off on her own! She knows I have always looked out for her and Ruby!”
“She did go to New York, though,” said Val.
“And she didn’t tell anybody,” I said. “Not even you or Ramona.”
“Oh my G—” Pam swallowed, her face deathly white. I started out of my seat, just in case she was going to pass out again, but she waved me back. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just . . . Oh, Lord.” She dropped back down onto the sofa and dragged in a deep, rasping breath. “Thank you for telling me this. I’m sorry. I . . . I have no right to ask this, but please, please keep this to yourselves.”
Val and I exchanged uneasy glances. “Pam, if you know anything about Best Petz or Ramona, you have to tell the police.”
“But I don’t!” she cried. “I don’t know anything! All I ever did was work to make sure everyone could get what they wanted. That’s all!” A tear trickled down from the corner of her eye. “This is not my fault. They . . . She should have trusted me. She should have known I’d be looking out for all of us.” These last words came out in a harsh whisper.
“But—” I began.
Pam wasn’t ready to hear any more, though. “No. This is not my fault. If Kristen Summers can’t trust me after all I’ve done . . . she can face the consequences on her own.”
She hurried out of the room, heading for the front door.
Val and I stared at each other. I was the one who jumped to my feet first.
“Pam, wait,” I tried, running down the narrow hall after her.
“Please, Pam . . . ,” said Val, half a step behind me.
But the door slammed behind her and by the time we got it open and had both reached the bottom of the curved front stairs, Pam Abernathy was already in her car. She didn’t even look at us as she gunned the engine, backed out of the driveway and tore down the street.
Val and I stared until her taillights vanished around the corner.
“Well,” said Valerie.
“Gosh,” I said.
“You think she’s worried about something?” Val remarked.
“Could be, yeah.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say, especially not with the November cold digging its way under my inadequate shirt. We went back inside. Val closed the door and locked it.
By silent agreement, we both returned to the kitchen. Val turned all the lights on, for which I was grateful. I already felt like I was stumbling through the dark.
“Coffee?” Val asked me.
“Oh, yes. Please.”
Valerie moved around the big, quiet kitchen, measuring beans, filling the electric kettle and getting down the French press from the cupboard. I watched her, my mind roving restlessly over everything I’d learned over the past few days and everything I still didn’t know.
“So,” said Val as she poured the hot water into the pot, releasing the blessed scent of hot coffee into the room. “Are you going to tell me about this cat-food rumor?”
I did. Including the number of times that Frank had stressed that it was just a rumor.
Val settled the lid on the pot. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it kind of does. I mean, if Ramona found out Best Petz was committing fraud and threatened to expose them, she’d cost a lot of people a lot of money.”
“Well, that would explain why somebody stole her laptop.” Valerie opened the fridge and pulled out a big bowl of pasta salad covered in plastic wrap. “I mean, if Ramona was not only hearing about a fraud, but trying to gather evidence of one, the proof would all be on her laptop, right? If the evidence goes away, the problem’s solved. But it doesn’t explain the murder or Ruby vanishing.” She started scooping pasta into a couple of bowls.
“Well, it could mean that whoever killed Ramona might not have been after Ruby. Maybe they were ju
st after Ramona’s laptop and whatever she’d found out about the Best Petz fraud, and she came home unexpectedly and surprised the burglar—”
“But that makes it even less likely to have been Kris. She and Ramona were friends. She could have gotten in to see her anytime.” Val pushed the coffee and one bowl of pasta salad toward me.
“Right,” I said, and I really wished I could make myself shut up, because Val was one of my best friends, and nothing I had to say was going to make either one of us feel any better. “Because you and I are friends too, and if I needed to take your computer, I could just walk up to you and ask for it.”
The salad was a caprese, with chunks of tomato and mozzarella mixed in with the penne pasta. Roger had been determined that no one would go hungry while he was out of the house, and I silently thanked him for it.
Valerie drummed her fingers on the side of the pasta bowl. “Something’s not right here. You’re saying somebody killed Ramona because she found out there might be a problem with this . . . what did you call it? Megapremium cat-food line?”
“Ultrapremium.”
“Ultra. Right. But this is a new line, right? It hasn’t even really been advertised yet?”
“From what I saw when I went to Pam’s office, it’s all still in the planning stages. Although she did say the timeline got moved because of all the interest after Ruby disappeared.”
“But even then, the solution ought to be simple.” Val waved her fork. “They just don’t go through with it. Best Petz puts out a statement saying they found out about inferior food, they change suppliers, and they look like responsible corporate citizens. End of problem. Nothing worth killing over.”
I nibbled a piece of mozzarella. “It’d still be really expensive.”
“Best Petz is a big company. They should be able handle the cost.” Val paused in the act of spearing a fresh bit of penne. “You know who couldn’t handle it?”