The niece gave the men a hopeful look. “I need a little help,” she said, gesturing that her hands were full.
“I’ll go back for the stroller,” the PM offered, wisely avoiding the proximity of loose cat hair to his thousand-dollar suit.
“I’ll, uh . . .” Hox said, realizing he’d been out maneuvered by the cagy politician.
“Here,” the niece said, shoving Rupert at the reporter’s chest.
“I’m not really . . . a cat . . . person,” he protested as the heavy ball of fur landed in his arms.
Rupert gazed up at the reporter’s gruff face, snuggled happily against the front of his jacket, and let out a fried chicken–smelling burp.
“Trust me,” the niece replied as she reached down for Isabella, “I’ve given you the easy one.”
Now carrying Isabella, she breezed past him and headed off after the Previous Mayor.
As Hox moved to follow, he caught a sniff of Rupert’s fried chicken breath.
Glancing down the side corridor to where the niece had found the cats, the reporter’s eyes narrowed at the shadow of the green takeout container, kicked up against the wall.
• • •
WHILE THE NIECE and her cat-chasing assistants were distracted, a man in janitor’s coveralls with an overgrown beard and matching red hair wheeled a dolly through the cubicle room toward the open ventilation shaft on the far wall. After swiftly lifting out Spider’s banker’s box of notes and files, Sam Eckles secured a protective plastic sheeting over the box and strapped it to the dolly’s base.
Whistling to himself, Sam rolled the cart out of the room, down a side hallway, and through a service door to the loading dock behind City Hall. A second janitorial imposter waited behind the wheel of the white cargo van, which was backed up to the door, its engine running. The box was quickly loaded into the rear cargo space, along with the dolly, and the van drove off, disappearing into the pouring rain.
• • •
THE PREVIOUS MAYOR returned to the cubicle room in time to catch a glimpse of Sam and the box turning for the exit. He stroked his chin for several seconds, thoughtfully considering this development, before fetching the cat stroller.
The Conservatory of Flowers
Chapter 59
THE STAKEOUT
THE TRIO OF the Previous Mayor, Hoxton Finn, and the niece stared at the empty ventilation shaft next to Spider’s cubicle.
“Now there’s no reason to call the police,” Hox said sarcastically.
The Previous Mayor attempted to look surprised as the niece tapped her fingers against the stroller handle, silently pondering.
Isabella, of course, knew where the box had gone. She lifted her head proudly as she sat inside the stroller. She had played her part well—in her modest opinion. Although, she reflected, her brother could have shared a bite or two of that tasty snack.
For his part, Rupert lay sprawled across the stroller’s passenger compartment, spreading his body as wide as possible in the restricted space. He cared nothing about the missing file box or its contents. He was happily immersed in dreams of fried chicken.
• • •
“DO YOU NEED a ride?” Hox asked the niece as the group disbanded.
“Oh, I can catch a cab,” she replied, perplexed. The reporter was suddenly far more pleasant than he’d been throughout their entire interaction. “Unless it’s stopped raining. Then we’ll just walk.”
“No,” he said. “I insist. It’s no problem. The news van will be stopping by to pick me up. Where are you headed?”
“Home to Jackson Square.” She glanced down at the stroller. “I’m afraid Rupert is going to need a litter box break before too long.”
“Give me a minute to make the arrangements.”
Hox stepped into the hallway with his cell phone. He punched the quick dial button and waited impatiently for Humphrey to pick up on the other end of the line.
“I need you to drive the news van over to City Hall,” he said as soon as he heard the stylist answer.
“Didn’t they have one there to cover the inauguration?” There was a pause as Humphrey walked to the nearest window. “Oh, I see it pulling into the parking spot outside our building right now.”
“Great,” Hox said brusquely. “Run down there, grab the keys from the afternoon crew, and drive the van back over here.”
Humphrey appeared unconvinced.
“Why? Are you afraid you might get your hair wet on the walk back to the office?”
Hox clenched his fist. “Just . . . bring it over here, ASAP. I need you to pick up me and a, uh, friend.”
Humphrey’s interest was immediately piqued.
“A friend?” he gushed. “What kind of friend? Should I call the paper’s gossip columnist?”
“Not if you value your life,” Hox spat back. “And it’s not that kind of friend.” He paused, contemplating his next course of action. “Tell the station we may need the van for a couple of hours.”
“But . . .”
“Just do it!”
• • •
A HALF HOUR later, Humphrey pulled the news van to a stop outside City Hall’s front steps and honked the horn.
“Took you long enough,” Hox griped as he ushered the niece to the side cargo door and helped her lift the stroller into the rear seating area. She climbed in next to the cats while Hox slid through the front passenger door.
“Jackson Square,” he said sternly to the stylist. “The corner of Jackson and Montgomery.”
“I’ll be expecting a tip,” Humphrey muttered. Then he jumped, startled, as a feline voice piped up from the backseat.
“Mrao.”
• • •
“YOU CAN STOP here on the right,” the niece called up to Humphrey as the news van reached Jackson Street. “I’m the redbrick building in the middle of the block.”
Humphrey slowed the van outside the Green Vase antique shop, and Hox hopped out to help lift the cat stroller from the cargo area to the sidewalk.
“Well, uh . . . ” the niece said awkwardly. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure,” Hox replied with his trademark frown.
“Okay.” She wasn’t sure what to make of the gruff reporter.
Hox watched as the woman rolled the stroller to the store’s front door. She gave him a bewildered wave before disappearing inside.
“Now what?” Humphrey asked as Hox returned to his seat.
“Drive around the corner,” Hox instructed tersely.
“And?” Humphrey prodded.
“And we wait.”
Humphrey stared out the front windshield.
“Are we on a stakeout?”
Hox thumped the side of his nose, a mocking indicator that Humphrey had guessed correctly. Then he growled out his order, “Well come on then. Don’t just sit there. Drive!”
Humphrey shifted the gears and pressed on the gas pedal.
“Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that you’re divorced.”
Chapter 60
THE SURVEILLANCE VEHICLE
HOX AND HUMPHREY waited for more than an hour in the news van for signs of activity inside the Green Vase antique shop. All the while, the rain continued its nonstop drizzle.
From their parking space in an alley down the street, the pair had an angled view of the store’s front entrance. Even after the niece’s return, the “Closed” sign remained hanging from the inner side of the glass-paned door.
Despite Hox’s persistent stare, the door’s decorative iron frame hadn’t moved an inch.
“Maybe she’s not going anywhere else today,” Humphrey suggested with a yawn.
“No,” Hox replied curtly. “She’s definitely going out. The chicken takeout box was a coded message from her uncle, I’m sure of it. Who else would have stolen the file box while we were running around the basement?” He whacked the dashboard, still irritated at having been duped. “But he wouldn’t chance showing up here. She’ll have to meet him somewhere else.�
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“Tell me the story again.” Humphrey laughed. “Especially the part where you and the Previous Mayor were chasing a couple of cats through City Hall.”
The stylist dodged a head slap from the reporter.
“So this James Lick fried chicken fellow is her uncle Oscar,” Humphrey mused. “That’s who you think she’s meeting?”
“Yes.”
“And this Oscar guy is Spider’s murderer?”
Hox’s steely gaze refused to budge from the Green Vase.
“I’m almost certain of it.”
• • •
SUDDENLY, A TAXI van swung into Jackson Square and stopped outside the antique shop’s redbrick building. The door to the Green Vase opened and the niece pushed the cat stroller onto the sidewalk.
Hox craned forward in his seat, trying to see into the net-covered passenger compartment before the woman hefted the stroller through the van’s side door and followed it inside. As the taxi drove off, he leaned back in his chair, confused.
“Why is she taking the cats?”
Humphrey stuck the key into the ignition and started the engine.
“I always bring a feline or two along when I’m meeting hardened criminals. Helps to lighten the mood.”
Hox popped his notebook against his left thigh.
“Just drive, Humphrey.”
• • •
THE NEWS VAN rolled out a safe distance behind the taxi, which was quickly picking up speed. The convoy was soon passing through North Beach, headed toward the Broadway Tunnel.
Hox pressed forward against his seatbelt, urgently feeding information to Humphrey as he navigated through traffic.
“They’re turning left up ahead. Get into the other lane.”
“No, I was wrong. Her cab was just squeezing around a double-parked vehicle. Shift back to the right.”
Gritting his teeth, Humphrey struggled to clear traffic through the van’s side mirrors.
“You know, I failed detective driving class at hairdressing school.”
Hox’s cell phone began to buzz before he could respond.
He glanced at the caller ID and groaned. It was his producer, no doubt wondering why he had absconded with both Humphrey and the news van and when he would be returning both to the office.
After weighing the pros and cons of answering, he punched the transmission button.
“This is Hox.”
He winced at the subsequent tirade that poured out of the receiver.
“Let me explain . . .”
The attempt only triggered a more vociferous diatribe from the woman on the other end of the line. Hox grimaced at the producer’s foul language. He wouldn’t have thought the mother of four had it in her.
Humphrey stole a quick glance over at the passenger seat. He could hardly contain his giggles.
Hox glared at the stylist while he waited for the producer to finish venting. When she finally paused to catch her breath, he spoke as calmly as possible into the phone.
“I understand, Connie, really, I do. But trust me, I’m on a hot lead.” He frowned at his own daring before adding, “I’m closing in on Spider’s murderer.”
The tone of the female voice on the other end of the line slowly transitioned from irate to capitulating. A moment later, Hox hung up and announced with relief, “She’s agreed to cover for us.”
Humphrey snorted his response. “What do you mean by us? You act as if I’m a willing accomplice in this hare-brained mission.”
“Don’t lose the cab,” Hox replied curtly.
As they turned onto Van Ness, the news van passed the wide windows of a car dealership. Humphrey noted the van’s reflected image as they drove by—and the bold logo emblazoned on its side.
He shook his head.
“You could have picked a less obvious surveillance vehicle.”
• • •
UNBEKNOWNST TO THE van’s interior passengers, a third party had hitched a ride on the vehicle by grabbing onto the bumper and the rear door handle.
Balancing his feet on the skateboard, Spider was enjoying the ride of his ghostly life, maneuvering over unexpected bumps and potholes. At one point, he narrowly avoided being squashed by a tailgating Muni bus.
His vaporous figure wasn’t visible in the rearview mirror—or any mirror, for that matter. The only indication of his presence was the skateboard, rolling along between the van’s rear tires.
Chapter 61
TICKETS FOR TWO CHILDREN
THE TAXI VAN dropped off the niece and her two cats inside Golden Gate Park, as close as the driver could get to the Conservatory of Flowers. The street running in front of the building had been closed to vehicular traffic, so he had to take an alternate route.
After paying the fare, the niece climbed out of the taxi and fished the stroller through the sliding side door.
The rain had once more lessened to a thick mist. The niece snapped shut the front of her jacket, all that she needed to keep herself warm from the dampness.
She adjusted the nylon cover over the stroller’s passenger compartment, ensuring her furry companions would stay dry. Rupert burrowed beneath the blankets, not taking any chances with the weather, while Isabella nudged her way to the front, eager to monitor where they were going.
As the niece set off down a side path through the trees, she noticed a news van parked around the corner from where the taxi had stopped. The bright colored logo stood out even through the gloomy weather and her mist-blurred glasses.
She wondered what news story had drawn the van to this location, but soon dismissed all thought of it. They were probably covering one of the many cultural events that went on in the park, she reasoned. On any given day, the area hosted numerous activities.
The niece pressed on, leaving the protection of the trees for the turnoff to the open yard in front of the conservatory.
A wide tunnel ran beneath the road where she stood. Beyond the tunnel entrance, a landscaped lawn rose to a small hill. A series of flower beds surrounded a wide staircase of stone steps that led up the gentle slope to the conservatory’s front entrance.
“Here we go,” the niece said, bumping the carriage up the slick stair-step incline. Isabella thrust her head against the net cover, offering concerned guidance and critique. Even Rupert poked his head out of the blankets to make sure they weren’t about to tip over.
After a few scary wobbles, the stroller cleared the top step.
“There, we made it,” the niece said, masking her relief. “I can’t believe you ever doubted me.”
She opted to ignore Isabella’s reply.
The woman guided the stroller across a paved area with a snack kiosk on one side and a ticket booth on the other. Shushing her two feline passengers, she approached the ticket booth and peered through the grating at the attendant reading a book inside.
“One adult,” she said, fishing a twenty-dollar bill through the slot. “And, uh, two children.”
Without the slightest glance over the wooden counter to the stroller, the attendant reached a gloved hand into the ticket box and counted out three printed passes.
“Enjoy,” she said, sliding the tickets and the change through the window.
The niece turned the stroller toward the conservatory entrance.
“I’m amazed every time this works,” she whispered.
From the front of the stroller, Isabella concurred with her own surprise.
“Mrao.”
• • •
HOX AND HUMPHREY stood inside the tunnel beneath the main road, watching the niece maneuver the stroller up the concrete stairs.
“What’s she doing?” Hox muttered as the woman rolled her charges to the ticket booth.
Humphrey pulled up his coat collar to shield his neck from the water dripping from the tunnel’s roof. “Surely they don’t allow animals inside.”
As the niece rolled the cats into the glass-walled building, Hox stepped out from under the tunnel’s cover and began striding
toward the steps.
“Come on, Humphrey,” he called out. “Don’t say I never take you anywhere nice.”
Humphrey scampered after the reporter, following him toward the conservatory entrance—leaving behind an empty tunnel save for a skateboard, propped up against one of the moss-covered walls.
Chapter 62
THE GLASS HOUSE
AS THEY LEFT the ticket booth and approached the conservatory entrance, the niece folded up the stroller’s nylon covering and slid it underneath the buggy so that Isabella could see out unimpeded.
Together, they looked up at the sixty-foot-high onion-shaped dome that formed the centerpiece of the long rectangular building. A skeleton of wood framing supported the structure’s innumerable glass panes. Many of the panels had been frosted with a translucent white paint, presumably to help moderate the inside temperature.
Water dripped down both sides of the glass-paned conservatory: on the outside from the rain, on the inside from the building’s artificially generated humidity.
“Try not to be conspicuous,” the niece cautioned as she pushed the stroller into the front lobby. Despite the woman’s best efforts, Isabella insisted on pushing her head against the passenger compartment’s top netting. There was too much to see and smell.
The niece handed over the tickets to another distracted volunteer and slipped the stroller through the doors leading into the central domed area—where they were immediately hit with a wall of humidity.
Isabella murmured in wonder at the sudden atmospheric change. Rupert dug himself out of the blankets, which had become far too warm.
They had entered a man-made rain forest. A jungled mixture of bamboo and other tropical trees grew in the center, their leafy limbs reaching up toward the dome’s frosted skylights. At ground level, various forms of moss and lichen covered the sides of moist boulders and many of the rougher tree trunks.
Additional glass-enclosed rooms were attached to either end of the domed center. The niece rolled the stroller down the guided walkway toward the door for the next transition. She noticed a gauge mounted to the side wall, measuring each room’s temperature and humidity. Squinting at the dial, she was unable to interpret the readings, but the fog-streaked blur on the opposite side of the glass provided a visual predictor for the conditions in the area labeled “Aquatic Plants.”
How to Paint a Cat (Cats and Curios Mystery) Page 21