by Marie Celine
Before Kitty could open her mouth to reply, her eyes fell on the stovetop clock. ‘Oh, no, I’ve got to start cooking. Pets will be waiting for me.’ She was going to be late and her clients were going to be furious. She had to literally get cooking.
Fran gripped Kitty’s wrist. ‘Before you do,’ she said, ‘I’d like to clear the air.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kitty.
‘About what Steve said. Back at the needlepoint shop,’ she added, noting Kitty’s look of confusion. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with Gretchen’s murder.’ Fran’s eyes pooled up.
Kitty hugged her warmly. ‘I never believed it for a minute,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Now, let’s get cooking.’
With Fran’s help, albeit clumsy and unschooled, Kitty managed to get the morning’s meals in order. The woman barely knew her way around the kitchen. About the only thing Fran was good at was making a fresh pot of coffee.
Nonetheless, the meals were prepped and packaged and Fran had generously tossed her the keys to the Mini. Without it, she’d have been stranded, or delivering meals on foot. Jack still had her Volvo and she’d been unable to reach him. Of course, Jack’s precious Wrangler was probably in Jeep heaven.
Kitty fretted. Jack wasn’t answering at home or on his cell. He was probably stuck downtown doing police work. Hopefully, grilling Steve Barnhard and watching him sweat bullets. She’d left a message for him there at his desk.
‘Swing by afterward and pick me up for the funeral,’ Fran asked. ‘I don’t want to miss paying my respects to Gretchen.’
‘Me neither,’ said Kitty. ‘Besides, I’ll have to change.’ She couldn’t exactly go to the funeral in casual slacks and a chef’s jacket and she didn’t want to go to her clients’ homes dressed in all black for a funeral service. Luckily, she had only a few meals to deliver. Her first stop was the Fandolfis.
Mr Fandolfi greeted her at the door. ‘Kitty, my dear. Come in, come in.’ He was all smiles. The cat, Houdini, rubbed against his legs making gentle purring sounds. ‘I’m afraid Rosie is off today and so I have been relegated to the post of greeter.’ Mr Houdini was a pure sable Burmese with gold eyes and a shiny coat. Fandolfi claimed that Mr Houdini was a direct descendant of two cats named Wong Mau and Tai Mau.
Kitty grinned and squeezed past with the pets’ meals. ‘You make a fine greeter, Mr Fandolfi, sir.’
On her first visit to the Fandolfi estate, the magician had proudly explained to her that a doctor in San Francisco had imported a cat named Wong Mau in 1930 and then bred her with a male named Tai Mau, producing what were considered the first Burmese cats.
He sniffed grandly. ‘And what did you bring the children this morning?’
Kitty laid the warming bags on the kitchen counter. ‘For Hocus and Pocus and,’ she added, holding up her index finger, ‘Houdini, my famous Viennese sausage dish. I call it Woofgang Meowzart’s Pet Symphony in B flat.’
She handed the magician the meal’s menu card.
Kitty Karlyle: Gourmet Pet Chef
—Woofgang Meowzart’s Pet Symphony in B flat—
¾ cup all-purpose flour
12 ounces skinless chicken breast
2 teaspoons kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 ½ tablespoon unsalted butter
6 ounces white button mushrooms, sliced
1 cup grape juice
1 tablespoon raw sugar
1 clove finely minced garlic
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 ½ tablespoons finely chopped parsley
Fandolfi chuckled with delight, rubbing the edge of the menu card under his nose. ‘Marvelous, simply marvelous.’
‘You know,’ the magician said, placing a gentle hand on Kitty’s shoulder as she prepared plates, ‘I wonder if you could help me with something this morning?’
Kitty paused. ‘Help you, Mr Fandolfi? Of course, you know I’d do anything for you.’ He was a paying customer, after all, and a very pleasant one at that. And the one who had recommended her to Gretchen Corbett – for whatever that was worth at the moment. ‘What is it you need? Did you want to request something special for the pets tomorrow?’
He shook his head. ‘No, no. It’s nothing like that.’ He looked away a moment then his eyes cut back to Kitty. ‘I’ve been working on a new trick, you see.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Holly was supposed to help me with it. But she had to run out. It requires an assistant.’
Kitty placed Houdini’s meal on the floor, waited to see that he was happy – he munched and meowed with satisfaction – then fed the pups.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything at all about magic, Mr Fandolfi. I don’t think I’d make a very good assistant.’ She zipped her bag shut.
‘Nonsense, no special talent required. You’ll do perfectly.’
Before she could say another word, Kitty found herself shuffled off to a large dark study that apparently doubled as the magician’s home magic studio. The faint scent of tobacco permeated the cozy room. Kitty knew Fandolfi to be an occasional pipe smoker.
Among the heavy-framed paintings on the walls and various bibelots on the shelves, there stood out a six-foot tall, two-foot wide and deep, matte black box in the center of the room. A sleek and modern guillotine-looking device stood off to the right of it. Kitty was beginning to wonder just what she was getting herself into.
At least she didn’t see a wooden backboard anywhere riddled with knife marks. Fandolfi wasn’t likely to want to start throwing razor sharp knifes at her like she’d seen on the old TV shows, wherein some crazy magician throws a flurry of deadly knives within inches of his even crazier victim, leaving a knife outline of a human body gouged into a wooden backdrop.
Still, Kitty shivered. Just the thought of sharp knives brought back the memory of seeing Gretchen lying dead on the floor of her office with Kitty’s very own knife protruding from her back. It gave her the chills and probably always would.
At least that ugliness was all behind her now. There was nothing left but to say her goodbyes to Gretchen this afternoon, pick up the pieces and get on with her life.
‘Now, here’s what I’d like you to do,’ said the magician, interrupting Kitty’s reverie. He gripped Kitty’s shoulders and edged her toward the big black box. The Bichon yipped at her heels. ‘Quiet, Hocus! Pocus!’ said Fandolfi. ‘Shush.’ He held up a long, elegant finger. ‘I must concentrate now if the illusion is to work.’
The dogs quieted down, taking up position on the Persian rug beside the large mahogany desk, and watched the action with big puppy eyes.
She ran a finger up the chrome rail of the guillotine. It was cold to the touch. ‘You’re not planning on chopping my head off, are you?’
‘Of course not, dear Kitty. I wouldn’t dream of it. Especially,’ he added, curling his lips, ‘before noon.’
Kitty found shallow comfort in the magician’s reply. ‘What exactly do you have in mind?’ And why did I agree to do this?
‘Are you familiar with the name Robert Harbin?’
Kitty shook her head no.
‘He was a renowned British magician. He died some years ago.’
Kitty gulped. ‘Not the victim of one of his own magic tricks, I hope?’
Fandolfi grinned. ‘Nothing of the sort. Though he was quite inventive. Some of his illusions include classic big box restoration-type illusions such as the Zig Zag Girl, the Neon Light, the Aztec Lady and Aunt Matilda’s Wardrobe.’
‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me.’
‘Oh, you know the type,’ replied Fandolfi, deftly unlatching one side of the box and peering inside.
Kitty looked over his shoulder. It was pitch black inside. Her sense of claustrophobia was beginning to kick in, churning like an antique electric motorbike motor spewing noxious black fumes in her stomach.
Fandolfi went on. ‘Lock a lovely young assistant – in this instance, you,’ he said,
with an acknowledging wave of the hand, ‘into a box in plain view. Move a few bits about. Shuffling said young assistant’s body parts in various directions which are clearly humanly impossible.’ His dark eyes twinkled. ‘Or appear so.’
He lofted a wide scimitar that he drew from a yellow and blue Chinese porcelain urn near the paneled wall. ‘Insert a few choice blades,’ he waved the blade in the air with his left hand, then turned to Kitty, ‘whilst said lovely assistant squirms in mock terror.’
He thrust one of the blades into a tiny slit in the side of the box that Kitty hadn’t noticed previously. It was positioned just about where she estimated her spleen to be. Weren’t spleens considered vital organs? Fingers of fear reached into her heart and the terror, of which she was already experiencing pangs, was anything but mock.
‘Then I,’ he said, with a slight bow, ‘put all the pieces back together again.’ He withdrew the blade.
Kitty noted it was blood-free. But would it be after he stuck her in that box and tried the same thing? She hoped so. And would all the pieces go back together again? There was not one part of her body that Kitty didn’t consider vital.
‘Voila!’ He took an exaggerated bow. Probably from force of habit, she figured. He patted the side of the device. ‘I call this Charming Holly. She is my own little twist on Harbin’s work. Believe it or not, the idea came to me in a dream.’
Kitty believed it. If not a dream, a nightmare.
‘Such a shame Holly couldn’t be here herself this morning for the trial run. In fact, she helped me with the build. Holly can be quite handy, though you may not think so to look at her.’
Kitty thought of the dolled up beauty and couldn’t imagine for a moment that Holly had actually wielded something so pedestrian as a hammer in her smooth, callous-free hands. Would she even know which way was up?
‘Yes, a pity she could not be here this morning due to her appointment.’
Couldn’t or wisely decided not to?
‘What do you think?’
I think I’d rather be someplace else. Kitty bit her lip. ‘Interesting,’ was the best she could manage with a twisted smile. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when Fandolfi had asked for a favor.
When he’d brought up the magic trick, she’d been thinking more along the lines of holding a satin-trimmed black top hat whilst a cute little white bunny rabbit wriggled out.
He motioned her inside. Kitty’s claustrophobia roared. ‘If you’ll place one leg here.’ He watched as she gingerly moved one foot inside. ‘And the other just so.’ He directed her to place her other foot on the outside of an inch thick board on hinges. He instructed her in similar positioning for her arms and, finally, her head.
In answer to the skepticism on her face, the magician told her not to worry. ‘There’s a breakaway section inside. You, my lovely assistant, have only to pull the steel pin once I have locked you inside and rapped twice on the box with my wand. This will be your cue. With the pin removed, you’ll be able to pull your extremities about from the inside and no one will be the wiser.’ He twisted the tips of his moustache. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I – I guess so.’
‘Splendid. In you go.’ With that, Fandolfi closed the side door and Kitty was instantly thrust into darkness. She gulped and struggled for breath as she heard the sound of the magician’s muffled voice coming from outside the box.
After what seemed an eternity but was probably only a matter of seconds – and a couple billion beats of her racing heart – she heard the two taps of the wand on the front of the box.
It was impossible to see anything. Her hands fumbled blindly in the blackness for the pin that Fandolfi had pointed out. Sections of the box were beginning to move now and she still had not managed to release the pin. Her arms and legs were being pushed and pulled in directions they had not been designed to go.
She bit her lip. This was beginning to hurt. With a monumental effort, fighting against the searing pain in her arms and legs, she managed to get a grip and extract the stubborn pin.
Unfortunately, nothing changed. Her limbs were being pulled from her and the breakaway boards were threatening to break her bones. Finally, she couldn’t help herself. She screamed.
Fandolfi grunted in surprise. And, blessedly, the bits of the box stopped moving away from one another. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Get me out of here,’ Kitty squeaked. ‘Please!’
Suddenly all the parts came together again. Fandolfi threw open the side door. ‘My dear, what’s happened? You look agitated. Is something wrong?’
Kitty allowed the magician to escort her out of the box and lead her to a comfy smoking chair opposite the fireplace. Her arms and legs were still shouting angrily at her and she could barely move her muscles. It seemed that none of her extremities wanted to cooperate. She stared glumly at fingernails, broken and bleeding from scratching at the boards and tugging on the pin.
Fandolfi ran for a glass of water that he held out to her. Why, Kitty couldn’t imagine – what she needed was psychotherapy and a deep tissue massage – but she took it anyway. Water wasn’t going to help anything. Unless it was in the form of a hot bubble bath. Still, no point in hurting his feelings, even if his magic trick had tried to kill her.
‘It didn’t work,’ Kitty croaked after taking a sip of cold water. ‘The trick, I’m sorry, but it simply didn’t work. I thought I was going to die in there.’
Fandolfi straightened. ‘But I don’t understand. I tested it myself. As did my wife.’ He peered into Kitty’s eyes. ‘Did you remember to pull the pin as I instructed?’
Kitty nodded. ‘It was hard. I mean, I couldn’t see a thing, but I finally managed.’ She shrugged. ‘But nothing happened.’ Nothing good, anyway.
‘I don’t understand.’ Fandolfi appeared clearly agitated. He peered into the box. ‘I simply cannot understand.’ His hands fiddled around in the half-dark. ‘Hmm,’ Kitty heard him utter. ‘That’s funny.’ He scratched his ear.
‘What’s funny?’ If there was something funny about this whole business she’d like to know what. She sat up. Kitty could feel the circulation slowly coming back into her extremities.
‘It’s odd, that’s all.’ His hands played with the intricate mechanism inside. ‘I mean, Holly was supposed to …’
Kitty leaned closer. ‘Supposed to what?’
Mr Fandolfi turned and smiled her way. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he said with a wave of the hand. ‘A minor glitch. I’ll soon have it fixed. There are always obstacles on the way to perfection.’
Yeah, obstacles like almost tearing a person limb from limb.
‘The important thing,’ he said solicitously, ‘is that you are all right.’ He took her hand. ‘You are all right, Kitty?’
Kitty hesitated only a second. In spite of what he’d put her through, the magician seemed genuinely remorseful and concerned for her welfare. ‘Yes.’ She put on her happy face. ‘I’m OK. Just a little shook up, that’s all.’
He smiled back. ‘There you go. Merely a little scare.’ He tapped his chest. ‘It gets the heart going in the morning. Quite good for the constitution.’
Kitty shook her head. It was hard to stay mad at a man like Mr Fandolfi. She rose unsteadily to her feet. He reached out to lend a hand, but she said she’d be OK. ‘Thank you, Mr Fandolfi. It’s been quite a morning.’
She gathered up her things, hurrying to make her escape before he could ask her to try another of his tricks – like that mean looking guillotine.
He walked her to the front door. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right? Are you able to drive?’
Kitty assured him that she was and could.
‘OK, then. See you at the funeral this afternoon?’
Kitty hesitated on the doorstep. ‘That’s right, you and Gretchen were friends. So you’ll be attending Ms Corbett’s funeral?’
Fandolfi nodded and folded his hands. ‘Yes, we were dear friends.’ His right shoulder rose and fell. ‘Besides, she is m
y ex-wife.’
Kitty’s jaw dropped to the ground. Gretchen Corbett was Mr Fandolfi’s ex-wife? ‘Then, Cindy …’
He smiled and answered her unfinished question. ‘Is my daughter.’
Kitty was stunned. ‘You told me you didn’t have any children.’
He shook his head. ‘No, when you asked me originally, I said that Holly and I had no children. And I hope to keep it that way. One – especially of Cindy’s caliber – is more than enough.’
Kitty was inclined to agree with him but kept that opinion to herself. She didn’t have kids, but if she ever did she prayed they wouldn’t end up like Cindy. Hopefully, one day she and Jack would have children of their own – though probably not for some years to come. The subject of children hadn’t really been discussed.
Perhaps it was time that she had that conversation with him. She wasn’t even sure where he stood on the subject. Jack had not even committed to a date for their wedding. Was he ready for babies?
Kitty came back to reality as Fandolfi asked her once again if she was going to be all right and Kitty assured him, yet again, that she was.
It was only after she’d driven off, and thoughts of Gretchen’s murder and the case ran through her head, that she wondered if it had been an accident or if he had really intended to kill her. After all, he may have had more to gain than she had realized. He was Gretchen’s mysterious other ex-husband!
Could he have been in cahoots with Steve Barnhard? Could Fandolfi have set her up as well? Could the magician have recommended Kitty to Gretchen only to set them both up?
Maybe he had expected the young and inexperienced Kitty to fail so that the network would have no choice but to give the show to Barbara Cartwright.
But then the audience had reacted positively to Kitty’s on-air personality and Steve and Mr Fandolfi may have decided that Gretchen had to go.
Kitty’s head throbbed. She needed to talk to Jack.
TWENTY-TWO
‘You really think he tried to kill you?’ asked Fran.
‘No, of course not,’ Kitty said, though she didn’t sound all that convinced – and, in truth, she wasn’t sure that she was. Still, she had decided to presume that Mr Fandolfi was as harmless as she’d always suspected him to be.