“After twelve years?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “I can see why.”
“The way Bonelli explained it to me, when the top R&F guys got wind of the encrypted files, they leaned on Ross as the person most likely to know DeLeuw’s secrets. He had more access than anyone else, and he was, after all, their ‘problem-solver. ’ Schroeder promised Ross that if he found and destroyed the files, he’d get that promotion. If he didn’t, though, he might become expendable . . . in more ways than one.”
Mark grimaced. “Sounds like they really squeezed the guy.”
“From something he said to me that night, I think the drug cartel maybe even have threatened his family,” I added. “He had all these Facebook posts of his wife and two kids, looking totally happy and carefree. I can’t help wondering, did his wife know about any of this? If not, what a terrible shock it must have been!”
“No kidding,” Dawn agreed. “Successful young businessman. . . clean-cut, suburban husband and father . . . and ruthless murderer! She must feel like she’s been living with Jekyll and Hyde.”
“She also might have been nagging him all these years to try harder to move up the corporate ladder,” Mark suggested. “But unless she’s Lady Macbeth, she probably didn’t expect him to resort to murder!”
I remembered how Jerry’s hand had trembled, holding that gun. “I don’t think he ever expected to either. Killing DeLeuw was a desperation move—he just grabbed whatever weapon was handy. He did come armed to my shop, but I don’t think he expected to run into me that night. He saw my car was gone and probably hoped I’d be out for the whole evening.”
In front of Mark, I didn’t voice the rest of my thoughts. That maybe Jerry had made a few unsuccessful attempts to break in before. That maybe he was the driver lurking across the street the time Mark and I went on our date and I came home to find the stair rail broken.
That maybe I’d been wrong to blame Andy.
I thought again about the unopened letter stashed beneath the sales counter, but pushed it out of my mind once more. Whatever it might say, for now I was going to relax and enjoy the party.
A single tap on my arm snapped me back to the present. Mark asked, “What happened with DeLeuw’s sister, the one who was so intent on getting Harpo?”
“Bonelli said she might have been conspiring with Schroeder and the other managing directors to protect R&F’s reputation. Danielle apparently tried to find out details about the encryption system from Encyte, but George hadn’t told them much. So in the end, she might have tried to destroy the chip by more low-tech methods.”
Dawn guessed my meaning first. “She set fire to your shop? Didn’t we both say that, because of the nail polish remover, it was probably a woman?”
“Bonelli thinks Danielle did it, or at least hired the arsonist. At least any money she might stand to inherit will still be tied up while they investigate.”
“Think Danielle and Jerry were working together?” Mark speculated.
“Probably not, but both of them were trying to curry favor with Schroeder.” It left a bad taste in my mouth to even say the man’s name. Closing my eyes for a second, I felt again that tooth-rattling slap across my face, and was overcome with the same sense of helpless rage. “That’s the guy I really want to see convicted! If there’s a diabolical mastermind in this plot, it’s him.”
Now that my guests had finished most of the cold cuts and salads, Sarah and I put out her divine brownies and a selection of cupcakes from Cottone’s. Anita and Hector were the first to gravitate toward the desserts, and I caught up with them there.
“I gotta say, I never liked that Mr. Ross,” she recalled. “He always kind of looked through me, instead of at me. Even Mr. DeLeuw never did that! But still, I never thought Mr. Ross could be a violent person.”
“The drug people made him do it,” Hector explained to her, lifting a brownie onto his plastic plate. “That’s what the papers said. They made him kill Mr. DeLeuw to cover up what the company was doing.”
“Is that right?” Anita asked me.
Though it was an oversimplification of the whole complex scheme, I agreed. “Pretty much, yeah.”
She frowned and clucked her tongue. “Those drugs! They’re behind so much of the bad stuff that goes on, aren’t they?” She turned to Sarah. “Cassie told me you got Harpo now! How’s he getting along at your place?”
“I think he’s really happy to have a whole house to run around in again,” my assistant said. “Though I’m sure mine is nowhere near the size of his last home!”
Anita chuckled. “Not many people’s are. But I can’t complain—the lawyers are still paying me to clean it once a week!”
Then we noticed the front of the shop had gone quiet, with all conversation stopped and all heads turned toward the window facing the street.
A police car had just pulled up outside.
Chapter 24
My guests remained silent and tense as Angela Bonelli stepped through the door. After all, the last time most of them had spoken to her, they’d been under suspicion for murder.
She paused just beyond the sales counter, folded her arms, and swept the gathering with a baleful gaze. “We got a complaint about a rowdy party,” she said. “Might’ve known it would be this crowd!”
Finally people broke into smiles and nervous titters. I could have warned them that Bonelli’s stealth sense of humor took some getting used to.
I only had to introduce her to Dawn and my mother, since everyone else present already had met her in some capacity. I persuaded her to grab a plate of food and a glass of wine. She made conversation with everyone for a few minutes, then stepped to the front of the room and tapped a spoon against her plastic “glass” for attention.
“I’m not comfortable making speeches, so this will be brief,” she said. “There are several people here tonight whom I’d like to thank for helping me solve my first murder case in Chadwick. I’ve dealt with homicides before, but big-city crime is different. With this case, in particular, it helped to know background on the suspects—more than they were willing to tell a police detective.” Her penetrating gaze swept the room. “Anita, Dion, Nick . . . in your official statements and afterward, you provided valuable information that helped us piece things together. Dr. Coccia, your expertise and willingness to go the extra mile helped us find the chip and remove it from the cat before the bad guys could.”
Mark waved a modest hand. “It was nothing, really. The Chadwick PD will be getting my bill.”
When the chuckles died down, Bonelli went on. “As for Cassie . . . I admit, I was annoyed at first when I heard she was questioning all my potential suspects. But after I saw her intentions were good, I realized she might be in a position to hear and see things that I couldn’t. What I didn’t expect was that she’d be putting herself at risk simply by keeping the cat in her shop. Fortunately, she didn’t suffer any serious consequences, and even ended up capturing the killer.”
Everyone else applauded. I wanted to hide, but made a mock bow instead.
“Your sure did a number on Ross and Schroeder.” Bonelli grinned. “Those guys were a mess when they showed up in the ER!”
“I can’t take credit for Jerry’s allergy,” I reminded her. “Or for Stormy attacking Schroeder.”
“Still,” the detective said, “if you ever want to apply to the police academy, I’ll vouch for you.”
Some egged me on to accept this challenge, thought above their voices I could hear Mom’s frantic protests.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m like Batman—I work on the fringes of the law.”
“Don’t you mean Catwoman?” Dawn teased.
Bonelli laughed and pointed at her. “Hey, that’s good!”
The detective left shortly afterward, and I wondered if I should have given her the letter from Andy. But I wanted to read it myself first, and I’d had no chance so far to do that.
By nine thirty, the party began to break up. Almost all of the guests happene
d to be self-employed and needed to get up for work in the morning, even on Saturday. Mom was one of the few exceptions, but she had a long drive home. Anyway, after having had a chance to talk with Mark, she seemed eager to leave me alone with him.
With a knowing squint, she asked in a hushed tone, “I suppose that’s the ‘doctor’ you’ve been dating?”
“Don’t start,” I warned her. “We’ve only been out twice. But he’s a great guy! He runs his own clinic and he was amazing during all the Harpo craziness. Stayed late to remove the chip, kept the cat safe at his place—”
“You don’t need to sell me.” She smiled. “He spent ten minutes of our conversation singing your praises.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “He did?”
“He said when you believe in something, you don’t give up. I assume he was talking about this murder case. Just make sure you don’t give up on him!”
I gave her a one-armed hug. “It’ll be more fun if you don’t pressure me. Okay?”
As the party wound down, Sarah and I excused ourselves for a few minutes to check on the boarders. Meanwhile, I heard scratching and Mango’s distinctive wail from the door that led to the second-floor staircase.
“I’m going to run up and check on my cats too,” I told Sarah. First, though, I stopped by the sales counter and stuck the envelope from Andy in my pocket.
Alone, upstairs, I had a chance to really absorb the impact of the day’s celebration. It brought sudden tears to my eyes. DeLeuw’s murder had been a shock and a tragedy, but it also had drawn new friends into my life and deepened some of the relationships I already had. With their backup, I’d even grown more of a spine than I’d ever had before.
I felt suddenly moved by the way we’d all helped one another and made sacrifices to help solve the case and bring George’s killer—or killers—to justice. I even felt a greater appreciation for the three graceful companions who wound around my ankles now, even though they were simply trying to charm a late supper out of me.
In this positive frame of mind, I felt strong enough to face the unknown content of Andy’s letter. I waited until all three cats were happily chomping away at their food before I sat down with the unsealed envelope at my yellow kitchen table. My stomach still knotted as I opened the sheet of official-looking stationery:
Cassie—
I know you told me never to contact you again, even in writing, but I had to make one last attempt. When I tried to talk to you at the business expo and you wouldn’t even listen to me, told me to never come around again, and threatened to tell the cops, it finally opened my eyes. I realized I could lose my new job or even go to jail—all because of my temper. That was partly why I got fired from my last job at the mall, you know. I got mad one day, cursed at the boss, and he told me to get out. Guess I did that kind of thing once too often with you, too.
Anyway, I’m going to one of those anger-management groups, and I think it’s going to help. I’m not saying this to get you back, because I’ve probably screwed up too bad to ever make things right again between us. So I won’t bother you again, or ask your mother to give you any more messages from me.
I’m making progress, but I’ve got a long way to go. Meanwhile, hope you find somebody who treats the way I should have. Have a good life.
—Andy
Briefly, I suffered one of those pangs of sympathy to which I was far too prone where Andy was concerned. But I’d nipped it in the bud. If he’d learned his lesson, wonderful! I hoped anger management worked for him. With any luck, he’d never inflict on another woman the physical pain and mental anxiety that he’d put me through.
Andy was right about one thing. I did deserve someone better. I even had someone in mind.
When I went back downstairs, only Mark and Sarah remained. He was helping her collect the remnants of the party—almost-finished trays of cold cuts, half-empty bottles of soda and wine—and dispose of the dirty plates in the trash.
“I’ll bring the leftover food up to my kitchen,” I told Sarah. “As long as the front rooms are straightened, we can let the rest of this go until tomorrow.”
“You sure?” Then she saw Mark slip an arm around my waist and stammered, “R-right . . . no problem! See you tomorrow, then.” Even better at reading people than animals, Sarah beat a hasty retreat.
Finally left alone, the good doctor and I kissed for a long while.
“Well, it is getting late.” He glanced toward the new window, which showed darkness except for a solitary streetlight. “Are you sure you’ll be safe here now, Catwoman?”
“Pretty sure.” I smiled. “All of my archenemies seem to have been defeated . . . for the moment.” He didn’t know yet about Andy, and I felt a bit guilty about that. If my ex really had reformed, though, I should have plenty of time to explain. No need to lift the lid of that Pandora’s box tonight.
Mark smoothed my hair, sending tingles down my spine. “Isn’t Catwoman a villain, though? As far as I’ve seen, you always fight for truth and justice, as they say in the comics.”
I shrugged. “I don’t read comics, but I’ve seen a couple of the movies. Seems to me that Catwoman isn’t all bad. Just like I wouldn’t claim to be all good.”
“Oh no?” Mark pulled me close again. “We didn’t get much time to talk tonight, just you and me. It so happens I don’t have any early patients tomorrow. Maybe you could open up a little later too?”
Only one good response for that: “Mr-r-row!”
Everyone knows a leopard can’t change its spots. But can a thief hide the spots on a catnapped Bengal? Groomer Cassie McGlone is about to find out . . .
With no ID for his pet, an agitated young man shows up at Cassie’s Comfy Cats claiming his house has burned down and he needs to board his big, brown cat, Ayesha. But after a bath washes dye out of the cat’s coat and reveals beautiful spots, Cassie suspects the exotic-looking feline may in fact be a valuable Bengal show cat, possibly stolen. At the same time, there are rumored sightings of a “wild cat” in the hills of Chadwick, New Jersey. Could there be a connection?
When Ayesha’s alleged owner turns up dead, it looks like whoever wants the beautiful Bengal is not pussyfooting around. Working with the police, Cassie and her staff need to be careful not to reveal the purloined purebred’s whereabouts while they discreetly make inquiries to cat breeders to find her real owners. But after a break-in attempt rattles Cassie’s cage, it’s clear someone let the cat out of the bag. And when a second body is found, it’s up to Cassie to spot the killer, who may be grooming her to be the next victim . . .
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Eileen Watkins’s next Cat Groomer mystery
THE BENGAL IDENTITY
coming soon wherever print and e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
Todd Gillis bounced the keys to my Honda CR-V in his dark-stained palm, as if to remind me that he temporarily held my wheels hostage. “So, Carrie . . .”
“It’s Cassie, actually,” I corrected him.
“Oh, right. McGarrity?”
“McGlone.” Todd seemed too young to have such a bad memory. But I guessed anyone’s brain might be affected by this cocktail of exhaust fumes and motor oil cooking together in the July heat of the garage’s repair bay. His short, dirty-blond hair rose in a kind of crest above his forehead—with the help of gel, or maybe axle grease? He radiated lechery and B.O.
I’d just come by to leave my four-year-old car for its sixty-thousand-mile checkup, and hoped to be on my way soon, but Todd seemed to have other ideas. With several other vehicles also parked in the bay, he’d managed to position himself between me and the glimpse of daylight beyond. There seemed to be no easy escape, unless I wanted to vault over a car hood.
Todd narrowed his eyes now to give me the once-over. “You said this is your first time here? ’Cause you look familiar.”
“Maybe you’ve seen me around town. I have the cat grooming and boarding shop, on Wayfair Street.” In the next instant, I
regretted giving Todd even that much information.
He snapped his fingers. “The bikini car wash last month, out at the Roost. Were you one of those girls?”
“Definitely not!” I bristled. How often had he tried that line, I wondered, and did it ever actually work?
“Aww, don’t say that. You’re as pretty as any of them.” He probably could tell, from the way my eyes frantically searched for an escape route, that he wasn’t getting anywhere, and switched his approach. “So you’re into cats, huh? Say, didya hear about the killer cat that’s loose up on Rattlesnake Ridge?”
All I wanted at this point was to get back to my shop, where I’d left my assistant Sarah in charge. So it could only have been temporary insanity that made me take the bait and echo, “Killer cat?”
“Yeah! They say it’s big as a mountain lion. Got hold of some old lady’s dog, one of those Shih Tzus.” He mispronounced the breed, maybe on purpose, to make it sound vulgar. “Ate it up, right in front of her!”
I didn’t find this outlandish tale the least bit funny, and the wide grin that spread across Todd’s grimy face confirmed my desire to spend as little time around him as possible.
“That’s awful, if it’s true,” I said. “But someone probably made up that story. We hardly ever get mountain lions in New Jersey, or any other cats that big. Anyway, how soon do you think my car will be—”
“Ha, shows what you know! My dad told me that back in the seventies, there was a theme park not far from here that had all kinds of wild animals. Jungle World, it was called, and you could ride through. Sometime the big cats escaped and attacked people and pets. That’s one of the reasons it got shut down. They got luxury houses up there now.”
This was my first visit to the Gillis Garage, but Todd seemed to think that because we were around the same age—mid to late twenties—fate had brought us together. If this was his idea of seductive chitchat, it sure wasn’t mine. Plus, he was a pretty big guy, and he had edged close enough by now to worry me.
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