Kitty Kitty Bang Bang

by Sparkle Abby

  I didn’t know how it was possible we’d not been hit.

  I didn’t know how it was possible we were not dead.

  Response times are great in Laguna Beach. A police cruiser, lights flashing, arrived in under three minutes. Detective Malone arrived two minutes later.

  Malone asked us to wait in the back of the cruiser. Second time in a police cruiser. It was still creepy.

  For a while April Mae and I sat without speaking. Then, as the whole idea of being shot at sunk in and with it the relief that we were okay, we both started talking at once.

  “Can you believe they missed us?”

  “We are so lucky!”

  “I wonder if the paintings are damaged.”

  “Philippe is going to wonder where we are.”

  “We should call him and let him know we’re going to be late.”

  When Malone got back to the car, it was as if we couldn’t stop. He eventually held up his hand to silence us.

  “I’m going to have to take your car in and have the forensics team go over it,” he explained to April Mae.

  “But we have to deliver the cat paintings to the gallery,” she protested. “Philippe is expecting us.”

  “The gallery is going to have to wait for these paintings.”

  “Are they damaged?” I asked. It would be terrible after all April Mae had gone through to get the cats painting again and things set up with Philippe if she had to start over.

  I guess it would be more terrible if the bullets had found their mark.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Malone dropped us off at April Mae’s, and over a glass of Kitty’s wine, we considered the possibilities.

  Organized crime involvement sounded more and more promising. But if they had killed Kitty over some investment gone wrong, why would April Mae be a target? It didn’t make sense to me.

  I still thought there was a good possibility it was someone close to Kitty.

  The cats seemed to sense our distress and at first nuzzled our ankles and then eventually insisted on being on the couch with us. Toby draped himself on April Mae’s lap, and Minou cuddled against my side. I felt myself relax as I stroked the soft fur. We’d settled in and finally calmed not only the cats but ourselves, when suddenly there was a loud knock.

  Pound, pound, pound!

  We both jumped.

  “I recognize that knock.” Though usually it was at my own house. I got up and went to the door to let Malone in.

  He followed me into April Mae’s living room, where she sat, feet on the coffee table, cat in her lap.

  “Ms. Wooben.” He nodded, all business. “Your car will be tied up with forensics for a couple of days. I’m not sure when it will be released, but they will call you when they’re done.”

  “Okey-dokey,” she responded. “Can you tell who shot at us?”

  Of course, he couldn’t. This wasn’t one of those crime scene television shows, but I understood her need to ask.

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t.” He rubbed his temples. “What I can tell you is that the only reason the two of you are alive is that the Cadillac you bought is armored.”

  “It’s got weapons?” April Mae sat forward dumping poor Tobey on the floor.

  “No, it doesn’t have weapons. The car is bullet-proof. There are armor plates in the body panels,” he explained.

  “No way!” April Mae shook her head. “Well, isn’t that the bee’s knees? I guess I got a good deal on that car.”

  “I guess you did,” I told her. Who’d of thought? The pixie’d inadvertently saved our lives by buying a car that probably had belonged to unsavory characters.

  “I wanted you to know what was going on with your car.” Malone turned to leave. “You may have some challenges getting it repaired. I don’t imagine it came from the factory that way. I’ll let myself out.”

  Once Malone was gone, we went back to petting cats and sipping wine and thanking the good Lord for whoever had invented bullet-proof cars.

  It was a few days before April Mae got her car back, and when she got it back it was a sight to see in the daylight. I’d never seen something riddled with bullet holes in real life. And to tell you the truth, I hoped I never was that close to one again.

  Verdi was a huge hit at the office and soon had things running smoothly. I’d checked in with her to see if she had any questions, but she seemed to intuitively get what each of us needed. She also seemed to understand our clientele was very different. The accountant saw very few people this time of the year. The psychic saw pretty much everyone in her office. I saw no one in my office, and with the real estate agent it varied, depending on where they were in the process.

  That afternoon, I’d stopped by to get my extra cell phone charger which I’d left on my desk the day before.

  “How’s it going, Caro?” she asked.

  “Great, hon.” Just seeing her there made me smile. “How about you?”

  “Excellent!” Her burgundy head bobbed. “I wanted to mention to you that while you were out, a Bonnie called, and I believe she may have been the woman you talked to me about. I offered to take her information and have you call, but she was a little skittish. So, I offered her the women’s shelter contact number you left, and she took it.”

  “That’s fabulous, Verdi.” I was so relieved. I’d stopped by the house in Ruby Point again but couldn’t raise anyone, and I’d continued to worry about the woman with the little Yorkie. “I hope she makes contact.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  April Mae’s message on my cell phone sounded frantic, so I drove straight home. I dropped my purse, let Dogbert out for a quick pit stop, and then headed next door.

  When April Mae opened the door, she looked like she’d been crying. “The cats are gone,” she wailed.

  “What?”

  “Tobey and Minou. They’re gone.”

  “How? When?” I realized I sounded like I was hitting her with questions, but I couldn’t help it. I was in shock.

  “I don’t know how. I came home from the beauty parlor, and they didn’t come out to greet me. They usually do, but not always. So, I called to them and started lookin’ all over.” I could hear the growing panic in her voice. “Caro, I have looked high and low and in every nook and cranny of this house. They are not here. And they couldn’t get out on their own.”

  “We’d better call Malone.”

  “Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  I dialed Malone’s number on my cell phone. I’d added him to my “Top Contacts” so his number was easy to find. I’m not sure what that says about the life I lead that I have a homicide detective as one of my “Top Contacts.”

  I was so used to his voicemail I didn’t realize immediately that he was talking to me.

  “Caro? Hello? Are you there?”

  “Sorry. Yes, I’m at April’s, and the cats are missing.”

  There was a long pause.

  In the pause, where I replayed what I’d just said, I had two thoughts. Briefly, I wondered when I’d started thinking of this as April’s house and not Kitty’s. The other was how totally inappropriate it was to call a homicide detective with a missing pet report.

  “Do you want me to have Sgt. Peterson call you?” he spoke very slowly in his irritating you-are-crazy-as-a-loon voice.

  “No, no, I can do that. And I’ll call Don Furry at the ARL in case they’ve been dropped off there. I’m not sure why I called you. It seemed like it might have something to do with the people April’s been talking to about Kitty being shot, and you’d asked me to keep an eye on things and let you know.”

  As soon as I said the words I looked up and saw April’s face, and I felt like an incredible heel.

  “Detective Malone asked you to keep an eye on me.” Her
already high pitch went higher. “I thought you were helpin’ me, Caro. I thought you were my friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was still on April Mae’s list. Yeah, that list. Again. She’d only just recovered from my turning her into the police for having a gun in her pickup.

  I’d apologized for not being totally honest with her, and she’d said she understood, but there was still a hesitance. I didn’t blame her. How would anyone feel if someone who claimed to be a friend was really reporting in to the police about them?

  I’d said I would go with April Mae to put up flyers offering a reward for the return of Tobey and Minou. The effort was partly in hopes of redeeming myself but mostly because I truly was concerned about the cats.

  We’d soon put flyers up in most of the businesses in downtown. At least the ones who were currently open.

  Our final stop was Whole Foods. We talked to the store manager who okayed putting the poster on their bulletin board. April Mae took care of tacking up the flyer while I ran inside to get us something to drink. Seemed like we’d been at this for hours. The idea of someone breaking in and taking the cats was crazy but it had to be what happened. I grabbed a couple of sport drinks to rehydrate us and got in the “Less than ten items” line to pay.

  Clive, the stuck-on-himself artist, was in front of me. He only had a container of milk. Thank goodness. I really wanted to keep moving.

  “Did you get your flyer up?” the cashier asked me.

  “My friend is posting it now.”

  Clive turned to look at me. “Flyer?”

  “Yes, Kitty Bardot’s cats are missing.”

  “Too bad.” His tone held no sympathy, and I wished he’d move so I could pay.

  “I know you don’t like the concept of painting cats, but I’d think you’d at least care that the animals are missing.” I don’t know why I wasted my breath, but I couldn’t let his cold attitude pass.

  “Oh, I care.” His freaky blue eyes were watery and red, and he spoke as if he were congested. The guy seemed to be fighting a cold. Maybe he should be buying orange juice instead of milk. “I’ll let you know if I see them.”

  “Thanks.” I handed my money to the cashier and picked up the drinks. Clive moved on without any further words, and I was glad. The guy was so into himself there didn’t seem to be any room for empathy for anyone else.

  I walked out to the parking lot where April Mae leaned against my car. Her face was flushed, and her usual perkiness was missing. She was taking this really hard.

  “Did you see that Clive guy come out?” I handed her one of the sport drinks. “He was in the store.”

  She shook her head. “Let me guess. He wasn’t much interested in helping us find Tobey and Minou.”

  “You’re right.” I took a sip, enjoying the cool liquid. “In fact, he was darn right rude.”

  “I’m not surprised. I ran into him a couple of days ago at the gallery when I was talking to Philippe. He didn’t see me at first, ’cause I was playing with Simba.” She also paused to take a drink. “He was real ugly about his ideas on animals who created art.”

  “He was sure clear about his views that day at Franklin’s office.” I unlocked the car, and April Mae laid the remaining flyers in the back seat.

  “He stopped talking when he saw me.” April Mae buckled her seatbelt. “I hope Philippe doesn’t show any of his new stuff. That’s what he was there for, to talk about his new pictures. I think he’s nasty.”

  “Right now, I think he’s fighting a nasty cold.” I stopped.

  Wait a minute. I’d seen those symptoms before. The night of the pet art exhibition. Red-eyes. Sniffly nose. And why was the guy buying milk? He was lactose intolerant. I remembered he’d passed on hors d’oeuvres at the event where we’d met because of the chance there might be cheese in them.

  I grabbed April Mae’s arm. “I think I know who may have Tobey and Minou.”

  I filled her in on my thoughts.

  We called Malone, reached his voicemail, and left him a message. He called back almost immediately. I imagine because he thought we had information about his murder investigation, and not because he thought we’d cracked the cat-kidnapping case.

  April Mae explained what had just happened and filled him in on all the derogatory comments Clive had made about the cats and their painting.

  Then I got on the phone and told him again about Clive and his allergies and how he’d acted when I’d talked to him in the grocery store. I also felt it was important to mention he’d bought milk though he himself couldn’t tolerate dairy products. Many non-cat-owners assume cats drink milk, while many don’t care for it, and some can’t tolerate it at all.

  Malone did a lot of “uh-huh” and “I see” type comments.

  “I’ll do what I can.” He didn’t sound uncaring, but I’d guess when your job is homicide . . . well, you get the idea. “I can send someone to his house. But if he’s not cooperative, I doubt we can get a search warrant based on red eyes, a runny nose, and a gallon of milk.”

  I felt my heart drop. “I understand. Please do what you can.”

  I disconnected and handed the phone back to April Mae.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said they’d send someone to Clive’s house, but if he wouldn’t let them look, they probably wouldn’t be able to get a search warrant.”

  “What?” She sputtered. “But if he’s got my cats—he’d better let them in, he’d better give them back.”

  “They’re gonna try, honey.” I was trying to stay calm myself. “Malone will do his best. Sgt. Peterson will probably go, and he’s plenty burly. I’ll bet he’ll scare stupid old Clive into confessing and giving him the cats.”

  “But, but—” April Mae was full-fledged crying now.

  Not sad tears, these were mad tears. I recognized them because I’d shed a few of those myself.

  “Come on, now, sugar. Hang tight.” I unearthed a few tissues from my purse. “We’ve got to let the police do their job.”

  I put the car in gear and headed back home. I had every confidence in Malone. I knew he’d do everything he could. I just wished I felt better about what could be done.

  I dropped April Mae off and told her I’d check in later.

  I had a couple of follow-up appointments. I wanted to check in on any further communication with Bonnie and the women’s shelter. And then I planned to call Detective Malone and beg him to do something.

  I thought I’d shown tremendous restraint by not driving directly to Clive’s house. Okay, I’ll admit, I did look up where he lived. His home was high up on the hillside, where the houses hugged the cliffs like barnacles. I wrote down the address.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Convincing yourself a bad idea is a good one, is a bad idea.

  I’d meant my promise to Detective Malone. I really had. I’d said I’d report everything to him.

  I’d meant my promise to Sam, too. I’d said I wouldn’t take unnecessary chances that might put me in danger.

  I’d truly meant both promises.

  But in the end things did get out of hand, and I didn’t have time to play it safe. It wasn’t like I wanted to get involved or take unnecessary chances; I had to protect April Mae.

  I got home from the women’s shelter where Bonnie and her dog, Bitty, were now settled in and safe. The staff there would work to help Bonnie get back to Illinois, which is what it sounded like she wanted to do.

  Happy to be home, I’d walked in the door and laid my keys and cell phone on the table, when I noticed I had a message. I’d had my cell on vibrate while I’d been at the shelter. When I listened to the message, my heart sank.

  April Mae’s usually chirpy voice was shaky. “Caro, I know the police can’t do anything because they don’t have any proof,
but I can’t just sit here while that jerk has my babies. I’m gonna get some evidence.”

  I knew she’d gone to Clive’s house. Alone.

  I could only hope she’d meant she was doing something like watching his house and taking pictures. Not doing something like breaking in.

  I picked up my keys and headed back out. It was a winding drive up in the Hills to Clive’s place. He was almost in the Top of World section. The roads jogged back and forth to deal with the steep grade.

  As I got closer, I kept an eye out for April’s car. Within two blocks of Clive’s address, I saw the big black Cadillac.

  It would have been easy to spot simply because there weren’t many cars around like it. Okay, none.

  It was even easier to identify because of the bullet holes still visible on the side panel. I pulled up behind it and parked. I hoped she was in the car.

  A stakeout, I could handle. Breaking and entering, I would have to call in Malone.

  I peered in the windows of the Caddy.

  Damn. No April Mae.

  I started walking.

  As I approached Clive’s house, I could see all the lights were off. I kept an eye out as I walked. The little pixie could be hiding in the bushes. The hedges were dense and green. They would give good cover.

  I stood across the street, watching. I leaned into the thick scratchy greenery. It was dark enough and the street lights dim enough that I was pretty sure no would spot me.

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and it wasn’t long before I noticed there was a spot of light that bobbed in the backyard. The light stopped near the back of the house.

  I remembered April Mae’s skill when she’d picked the lock of the display case at the Bow Wow Boutique. Dollars to donuts, Clive’s back door would be no problem for her.

  I stayed in place. If she got in the house, looked around and either found the cats and got them out, or found they weren’t there, all was good. If the cats were there, we’d deal with Clive through the proper channels at the police department. Sgt. Peterson was no Detective Malone, but he was no one to mess with as far as treatment of animals. If Clive had taken Tobey and Minou, he’d have Sgt. Peterson to deal with. And me. And April Mae. He was damn lucky Diana was out of the country.