by Sparkle Abby
I saw the light disappear and figured she was in.
Headlights came down the street, and I backed further into the hedge. The silver SUV made a wide turn and pulled into Clive’s driveway. I didn’t know what Clive drove, but there was no mistaking the figure who climbed out. Dragging his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, he jingled his keys as he walked to the front door.
Holy crap! I had to warn April Mae!
Holy crap! I had to call Malone!
I probably should have called 911, but all I could think of was that I’d told Malone I’d keep an eye on April Mae. Now, she was probably going to be locked up for breaking into Clive’s house. There was no way Clive wouldn’t press charges. Crap!
There was a chance I could get her out of the house before Clive discovered her.
I hit Malone’s number on speed dial. Got his voicemail. Left a message and ran for the back of Clive’s property.
Thank goodness when April Mae’d picked the lock she’d left the door open. Probably thinking of a quick get-away for herself rather than a quick entry for me.
The whole back of Clive’s house was an enclosed area with windows on three sides. I wasn’t sure what it was called in California, but in Texas we call it a back porch. Clive had made it into a studio. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but I looked around as quickly as I could.
At the far end of the studio was a large wire dog crate, and in the crate were Tobey and Minou.
“Meow, meow,” they cried in unison.
Dammit. The self-involved nut job did have the cats. April Mae’d been right.
I could hear Clive opening the front door. Humming to himself.
He had no idea we were there. I’d get April Mae, we’d get out, call 911 like I should have done in the first place.
I didn’t know how we’d explain we’d seen the cats, but we’d somehow convince the police to come in and get them.
“April Mae,” I whispered as loud as I could. “April Mae, it’s me, Caro.”
“Meow, meooow.” Tobey and Minou paced in the big crate and yowled. They could see me and were frantic. I was afraid to open the crate for fear they’d take off. I didn’t think I could corral them in time to get out.
“Shhh. Hush now, you two.” I carefully made my way to the cats. “We’ll get you out of there soon.”
The porch suddenly got less dark as Clive began flipping on lights in the other rooms. I leaned back, out of sight I hoped. I could see the whole space and still didn’t see April Mae. I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was out of time.
“April Mae,” I hissed. “Where are you?”
“She’s right here.” The chilling voice came from right behind me. “But she can’t answer right now because she’s a little busy.”
I spun around to face Clive holding a gun to April’s head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his other hand clutching her arm.
A gun? Holy cat scat!
Then it hit me, this was not a simple cat-napping.
Clive was not just a temperamental artist with an ego. A run-of-the-mill narcissist, as I’d thought before. He was a psychopath with a narcissism disorder. The cats were just the cat-alyst, if you’ll excuse a bad pun at a time like this.
“Taking care of some loose ends, Ms. Lamont. So nice of you to stop by and make it easy for me.” His red eyes, which I knew were a reaction to the cats, burned with menace.
My heart raced in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “You should know I called the police before I came looking for April Mae.”
“Sure you did.”
My eyes connected with April’s, and I tried to telegraph that I really had. Malone would check his messages, and he would come. What we needed to do was delay for as long as possible.
“Give me back my cats.” The blonde pixie was furious.
“I could have done that, and we’d be square. But you had to go snooping through my things, didn’t you?”
“I did. But I didn’t see nothin’.” April Mae was no better at bluffing than I was.
“Right. Okay, come on, you two. We need to get you out of here just in case Miss Beauty Queen here is telling the truth. I’m thinking not, or they would have been here by now.”
He still had a fierce grip on April Mae’s arm with one hand and held the handgun to her temple with the other hand.
“You jerk.” She twisted and turned but couldn’t get loose.
“I’m afraid the two off you are going to be found shot. Victims of the Laguna Beach sniper who strikes again.” With his gun hand, he reached behind him and pulled what looked like a gun case from the broom closet and slung it over his shoulder. It appeared heavy, so my guess was a rifle.
And since we were all guessing here, I also guessed it was the rifle used to shoot Kitty Bardot.
He’d almost shot us, too, a few days ago. April’s crazy purchase of a car from the mob was the only thing that had saved us.
I didn’t know where he planned to take us, but I figured we were goners if we left the house. Malone would never know where to look for us. Not until someone found our bodies. Delay was our only chance.
“Why?” I hoped his ego would help me keep him talking.
“Why what?”
“Why kill Kitty?” If he was classic narcissism personality disorder, he wouldn’t be able to resist talking about himself. If, and it was a big if, he didn’t figure out what I was trying to do.
“Why kill Kitty?” I repeated. “You’re obviously a talented artist.”
“I am.” He flipped on the switch, and spotlights illuminated the canvases around the room. They’d been disturbing in half light. They were scary fully lit.
“We saw your work at Philippe’s gallery.”
“That was my ‘Survival’ series.” He preened. “This is my ‘Rage’ series.”
Clearly.
Red paint slashed across the canvases. Black lines cut through the red on some. On others the red spattered the space like—like blood.
I swallowed hard. “Why . . . ah . . . Kitty?”
“She wouldn’t take me as a client. Said she ‘had to be selective’ and then when she got all involved with her painting cats, she wouldn’t even see me. Threatened to have me thrown out if I showed up at her fancy office.”
“There are other publicists.”
“But she was the best. I am the best. I didn’t want someone else.” His head raised along with his voice.
“So you killed her?”
“Philippe was going to do a show for me, but then Kitty talked him into doing a show for her evil cats. Just listen to them.”
Tobey and Minou yowled from their cages.
“Then I couldn’t paint. When the cats painted.” He glared in their direction. “I couldn’t. It was as if they’d taken my muse.”
I resisted any retort. Keep talking, buddy.
Clive smiled. “So Kitty had to go. Simple logic, really.”
April looked up at him, and I thought he would fry alive from the fire in her eyes.
We were doing well though. This was taking time.
If we could keep him talking, Malone would come.
I hadn’t really thought it through though, because if Malone knocked on his door, he’d just say we weren’t there. Malone would have to get a search warrant, and then Clive would still take us off somewhere and kill us.
“Once she was gone,” Clive continued, “my muse returned. All was good. This is my best work.” He swept his gun toward the canvases. “Until she came.” His white-knuckle grip on April Mae tightened, and he tapped the gun against her temple.
“Now she’s got them painting again. I can’t have that.”
“What are you going to do with Tobey and Mi
nou?” April bit out.
“Oh, not to worry. I’ve found a couple who will take them. That’s where I was when you broke into my house. They’ll take them far away from here and have new homes for them. They’ll be fine. The couple are breeders, and they were very impressed that I had special cats. Special cats, but they’ll never paint again. They’ll just be cats.”
“You’re giving Tobey and Minou to breeders!”
He smiled. “I know, brilliant isn’t it?”
“You low-life, scum bag,” April Mae stomped on Clive’s foot with her high-heeled boots, and then when he pitched forward she kneed him in the groin.
I grabbed for the handgun and tried to wrestle it out of his hand, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. I kicked him in the shin and wrapped myself around his body. I had height on him. And fear.
He lost his balance and fell. Into a still wet painting.
“Look what you’ve done!” he shrieked like a banshee.
The destruction of the painting was all the distraction I needed. I grabbed the gun from his slippery hand and crawled away from the knocked-over paintings.
I stood, steadied the weapon and pointed it at Clive who was struggling to his feet. I didn’t know if I could shoot him, but I hoped I could. Our lives depended on it.
Just then I heard a metallic slide and a click. April Mae had assembled the rifle and had Clive in her sights.
“Just like a huntin’ rifle.” She grinned at me. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you, ’cause I will. It’d be my pleasure.”
“She will, too,” I told him.
“That won’t be necessary.” I hadn’t heard Malone come in, but it looked like he’d heard enough. His service weapon was also pointed at Clive.
“Caro, are you okay?” Malone’s face was pale. Could that be concern?
I looked down at the dark maroon stain on my side, the bright red splotches on my knees, my hands spattered with crimson. I could only imagine what the rest of me looked like.
“It’s paint.” April actually giggled. It might have been hysteria rather than humor, but as I looked at the red paint all over me, it did look like I was the walking dead.
I snickered too.
Malone looked like he might like to shoot us all.
“Okay, ladies. I’ve got this.” He handcuffed Clive and made him sit on the floor. Then he called for backup.
I handed Malone the gun I still held.
April handed over the rifle.
Ignoring the red paint that covered me from head to toe, April Mae hugged me.
The place was soon abuzz with Laguna Beach police officers, crime scene techs, and it wasn’t long before a crowd of news teams collected outside.
April Mae asked if she could take Tobey and Minou home. Malone said she could. He would send an officer by later to take our statements. I didn’t think the statement would cover all the explaining I had to do.
He helped us get the cats out of the cage and to the Caddy. Once we’d sent April Mae on her way, he waited while I spread some towels on my car seat before I got in. Most of the red paint was dry, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Caro . . .” He leaned on the door of the Mercedes.
“Yes?”
“We really do have to stop meeting like this. I think I aged ten years in the last twenty minutes.” He shut the car door and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The announcement was a work of art in its own right. High-quality paper, enticing graphics, pictures of cute kittens. Always an attention-getter.
Arman Gallery – Mewsings – Saturday 3:00 – 7:00 PM
It had taken me more than a week and a professional exfoliation treatment to get the red paint off my skin.
I was so excited for April Mae and her protégées. The showing of Tobey and Minou’s latest creations had created quite a stir. Not only was local media covering the event, but there was also national coverage.
April Mae had partnered with the Laguna Beach ARL on the event, and so Don Furry and the other volunteers were to be on hand. Diana Knight had thrown her considerable influence behind the cause, and Franklin had done his PR thing.
I’d decided on a deep green Carolina Herrera. Sleeveless, simple, and of course, accented by Grandma Tillie’s brooch. Grey had said he and Mel would be in attendance. Tomorrow I’d make sure the heirloom was where Mel couldn’t get her hands on it. And after she saw me with the brooch tonight, I’d make sure the copy was where she’d be sure to find it. I smiled to myself. I loved the double feint. She’d think she had the real one. The real one would be safe. Checkmate.
Sam stepped inside when I answered the door. His expression made me feel like my lengthy preparations had been all worthwhile.
He immediately enveloped me in an embrace, and I melted into him. We’d not seen each other since before Clive’s arrest.
“My God, I’m so glad you’re safe.” This hug was quite a bit different from April Mae’s but no less sincere. He also kissed me and said a bunch of things in Greek that I didn’t understand. I’m pretty sure they would have scared me if I had.
He finally held me at arm’s length, brushed my hair back, and touched my cheek with his knuckles. “Caro, love. You look incredible.”
“You look pretty incredible yourself.” I laughed to lighten the moment. He did look good. You had to love a guy who could look just as yummy in formal clothes as he did in tennis shorts.
I picked up my evening bag and waved good-bye to Dogbert, Thelma, and Louise who watched from the couch. “Bye, kids, keep an eye on things while I’m gone.” They were so darn cute and looked like they understood every word.
“Bye.” Sam also waved at them.
The chariot . . . ah . . . Ferrari was in the drive.
It was a perfect clear fall evening, and the drive, though short, gave us a brief glimpse of the breaking waves and the endless blue where it was kissed by the rim of fire as the sun cashed out on the day. I sighed. All was right in my world.
When we arrived at the Arman Gallery, the place was packed. Philippe had done a great job of displaying Tobey and Minou’s paintings. The press was treating the gallery showing like a red carpet event.
Franklin had promoted the showing beyond expectations. Kitty would have been proud of him. He had proved to be brilliant. Whether he would continue with the agency, now to be called Chesney PR, and just be a weekend goat herder, or whether he’d pack it all in and raise fainting goats full time, who knew?
I spotted him across the room talking to Philippe. April Mae had dressed up for the occasion; her Bengal cat hairdo had been smoothed, tamed, and sprayed in place. It perfectly matched her fur-patterned dress. She was entertaining a group of reporters with stories of how the cats got their inspiration.
Diana Knight and Dino Riccio were back and talking with Teri, the Laguna Beach mayor. Diana was lovely in a new wine-colored Valentino frock. A nod to her recent trip to Italy, no doubt.
I’d missed her. I made my way through the crowd to her side.
“Don’t you look nice.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I take it you enjoyed your trip.”
“It was incredible, Caro. You have to see my photos. Well, I won’t bore you with all of them, but you have to see some of them.”
“I’d love to.”
“And you,” she grinned. “Another murder solved. You are a sensation. See, I was right, the police need your expertise.”
“I didn’t solve this one. It sort of solved itself.”
“But you saved the day. Or saved the cats, I guess it would be.” She laughed.
“I’m glad it all worked out.” I looked around the gallery. I thought of the relief Kitty’s killer was behind bars. How thrilled she would’ve been at the cats’ success. But also how it had w
orked out for Verdi, and especially for Bonnie and her little dog, who were now safe. And for April Mae who was across the room, hugging everyone in sight.
“How fun is this?” Diana followed my gaze around the room. “Quite the crowd, and Kitty’s sister has turned out to be a strong supporter for the rescue.” She noted Don Furry and others from the Laguna Beach Animal Rescue.
Sam appeared with glasses of champagne for us all.
He held his crystal flute high in a toast. “To friends, family, and felines.”
I touched my glass to his and then to Diana’s. “Yes, to friends, fam—” Before I could finish, I heard Diana gasp.
I turned to see what had drawn her attention and as if in slow motion I noted my cousin, Melinda, and her fiancé, Grey, step through the press line at the front of the gallery.
Mel looked striking in black. Her dark hair was pulled back and accented her classic to-die-for cheekbones, her skin was flawless as always, her posture perfection. The little black dress, if I wasn’t mistaken, was Gianni Versace, but it wasn’t the dress I was interested in.
Perched on the shoulder of the perfect little black dress was Grandma Tillie’s brooch.
I looked down at the brooch pinned to my shoulder.
She spotted me, and her gaze landed on the brooch I wore.
We made eye contact.
We both had the brooch.
The question was now which one of us had the real one and which one had the fake.
(Please continue reading for excerpts of other Sparkle Abbey books and pet treat recipes)
Desperate Housedogs
“You’ll be howling with laughter!”
—Kathy Bacus, author of CALAMITY JAYNE
Desperate Housedogs
Book One, The Pampered Pets Mysteries