Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats (An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Pamela DuMond

  “Perhaps now you know how I feel,” Derrick took a seat next to me and patted my other arm. “I just want to go to the Afterlife. I’ve been deceased for months now. Is that really too much to ask?”

  “No, Derrick.” I wiped a few tears away. “No, it isn’t.”

  Anthony scuffed the toe of his shiny black shoe on the ground. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Graceland. About me being deceased and all.”

  I pushed myself to standing. “I’ve got to go to work. Mort Feinberg’s Deli doesn’t make its own bagels, you know. But you can tag along, only for a little bit, Anthony, if you tell me about your ‘big’ realization.”

  Oh please, God, cut a girl a break. Please let Anthony Spiggottini’s ghost realize he’s dead, and just give it up already. I’d be more than happy to help him go to the first light he saw. In fact, I spotted a traffic light just two blocks away, on my way over here,

  “My big realization,” Anthony rubbed his hands together, “is that you’re over-stressed. Let’s plan a relaxing getaway. We can get a room overlooking Parking Lot E at the track. Take in a few races, place some bets on the ponies, and enjoy the Early Bird Surf and Turf at Big Don’s Steakhouse.”

  I closed my eyes and fantasized about steaks, and knives, and then I thought about a stake, and knives, as well as the sad realization that I’d probably never be able to watch a vampire movie again.

  Chapter 25

  A Scary Halloween Movie

  Theodore (The Cat)

  THE SCENT of eucalyptus wafted through the air, and a gentle breeze ruffled my voluptuous mane, as I lay on Hildy’s pristine redwood deck adjoining her chef’s kitchen. The sun bathed my body, and I tried to relax, but my fluffy tail twitched across a three-foot tall scratching post. Its price tag was still attached, complete with a catnip mouse dangling from the top by a cord. I got up and stretched, but the shackles encircled me, pinched my armpits, and stopped me cold.

  I twisted my head, peered over my shoulder, and blinked. What were all these straps twisting around my body? Hildy called it a harness, said it was for my own good, and that I could enjoy all the loveliness of the great outdoors if I was buckled in and tethered to a cat lead.

  I flopped onto my side and pawed at the restraint in a desperate attempt to break free, but only managed to get my nail caught in the harness’s tough fiber. I tugged and tugged, my arm twisted, and I collapsed. My breath was ragged and I squeaked a weak “Please rescue me!” meow.

  My captor strode across the deck wearing a lovely, feminine skirt suit, her hair styled in a neat chignon, and carried a shiny briefcase. “Oh, Theodore,” she said. “Poor little guy, you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle.”

  “Little?” I gazed up at Hildy, waiting for her to rush to my rescue. She put down the satchel and placed her manicured hands on her hips. “What should I do with you?”

  The answer was perfectly evident. She should extract my claw from the restraint, take the darn thing off me, and set me free. I gazed up at her and attempted to telepathically communicate this, the same way I did with Annie. But she just frowned, her nose turning down as her cat toy disappeared inside her left nostril. I shivered in fear.

  It was like a scary Halloween movie. First the cat toy disappeared. What next—the cat?

  “Fine,” she said, hoisted me up, and yanked my claw out, then tossed me back onto the deck.

  I placed my foot down and took a few tentative steps.

  She picked up the briefcase and walked toward her kitchen door. “When I get back, I’ll trim your claws,” she said and then stopped in her tracks. “Wait a minute, what am I thinking?” She returned, scooped me up, and dangled me dangerously over the crook of her arm. “I can’t leave you outside, little man. Who knows what could happen?” She strode inside her condo, her heels click-clacking, dropped me on the unforgiving marble floor, and slammed the sliding glass door.

  “You be good today while I’m gone.” She exited the kitchen, and trapped me in the claustrophobic room that was practically a prison cell.

  I was alone in a strange place, with one dish filled with organic kibble, and another with alkalized water. It was terrifying. A dog barked in the near distance. I turned and spotted a friendly face peering over the backyard fence. “Mozart!” I meowed.

  He barked and jumped up against the fence.

  Hildy popped the kitchen door open and frowned. “God, I hate dogs,” she said. “Especially stray ones. I’ll call Animal Control. When I get back home, munchkin, I’m going to dress you up in something super adorable. You and your new mommy will take a super cute Halloween selfie together. I was thinking that instead of clipping your nails every week, we should just get you declawed. I’ll call the vet and make the appointment.” She turned and left.

  I pressed my face against the sliding glass door and screamed, “Mozart! Get me out of here!”

  Chapter 26

  Surrender Dorothy

  Annie

  I SNUGGLED up to Raphael Campillio’s brick wall of a chest, and cried. “I’m sorry I’m such a wuss. I’m sorry that I’m a sad sap of a girlfriend. I’m sorry my eyebrows grow so quickly toward each other, but in my defense, I’m part Italian and I pluck regularly.”

  He tugged on one of my Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz braids, and kissed my forehead. “I don’t care about your eyebrows,” he said. “I care about the beautiful eyes that they frame, the gorgeous woman that owns them, and her big, kind heart that is stretched to its limit. What can I do to help?”

  “You’ve already helped by just being here. I know we’re supposed to go to the big Santa Monica Halloween party later tonight, but I have a feeling that if I stop by at The Juiced Bar’s meet and greet first, I might run into someone who knows where Theodore is.” I grabbed an old-fashioned basket from my coffee table. “I think he’s with Hildy Crawford. And if I’m right, I’m going to punch her out, and steal him back.”

  “No violence,” Rafe said. “Your cat’s chubby. Do you think he’ll fit in that basket?”

  “He is not chubby. He’s big-boned. I hid a cat carrier in the basket. I’ll stuff his hairy ass in it after I’ve dealt with Hildy.”

  “Don’t provoke Hildy,” Rafe said.

  “I know that random people call me Cupcake, and everyone thinks I’m just a nice, run-of-the-mill kind of chick.” I cracked my knuckles. “But I’m prepared to distract, snatch, grab, and run. And if that means provoking Hildy, you can count on that happening.”

  “This sounds like a recipe for trouble,” he said. “Come to think of it, trouble seems to haunt you. Why is my girlfriend a trouble magnet?”

  “I’m not.” I stomped one red sparkly low-heeled pump, and brushed the wrinkles from my blue pinafore styled dress. “I can’t help it if trouble finds me. Besides, Raphael, we’ve talked about this before. Being a baker isn’t all scones and donuts, you know. There’s a seedy underbelly to the baking business that tends to follow us creative types around—”

  “I think it just follows you around, Annie,” he said.

  “You don’t know that. How many bakers do you actually know?”

  “My mother’s best friend, Mrs. Martinez, runs her own shop in Florence. She said that besides the occasional cuts and burns, the baking business isn’t all that dangerous,” Raphael said.

  Anthony and Derrick materialized on my couch and leaned back, peering at the palms of their hands fanned in front of their faces.

  “Give me all your kings,” Anthony said.

  “Go fish,” Derrick said.

  “You drive a tough bargain, Philip.” Anthony grumbled and plucked a playing card from their imaginary deck. “Tell the overprotective cop that you’ve moved on, Graceland. You have another boyfriend.” He squinted at his fingers. “Me.”

  “No.” I twisted one of my braids and frowned. “I don’t agree—”

  Raphael stepped away from me. “That’s what you always say. You don’t know why weirdos keep dying around you.”


  “I am not a weirdo,” Derrick said and turned to Anthony. “Got any tens?”

  “Why are you always in the general vicinity of these crimes, Annie?” Raphael asked. “They’re horrible, vicious crimes, and for some reason, you’re always too close to the action. It worries me.”

  “No tens,” Anthony said. “Go fish. She’s too close to the action because she lives in a changing neighborhood. I love this neighborhood. I’m a card-carrying member of the Venice Historical Society and I have sworn to preserve this community’s cultural heritage as we gently prepare for our future. Your ex-boyfriend, aka grandpa, needs to get with the times. I worked my derriere off to gather the information about this neighborhood that Mr. Fartier wanted, including that pesky historical stuff. Do you know how hard it was to track down documents that old? They’re in my briefcase that was stolen along with my car. God knows what the thieves have done with it. The catalytic converter is probably in Santa Monica, and the rest of the parts scattered in Torrance. I hope they held onto my briefcase. It’s designer.”

  “Historical… Raphael, you don’t need to worry about me,” I said.

  “How can I not worry about you?” he asked. “I’m crazy about you, Annie.”

  “Tell the cop he’s just crazy period if he thinks you’ll pick him over me,” Anthony said. “He needs to find another girlfriend. You’re taken. Yo, Prince Philip. Got any queens?”

  Raphael paced my tiny living room. “I’m not supposed to tell you this. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. The Department interviewed Hildy Crawford about Anthony Spiggottini. Detective Pardue went to her condo yesterday and conducted the interview there. I asked him if she had a cat, and he said, no.”

  “Pardue’s not an animal lover. Don’t you remember the first time he met Theodore? He pointed a gun at him because he thought my cat scratched him. There wasn’t a mark on his body. The guy’s a total wienie.”

  “Fine.” Raphael sighed. “I know about The Juiced Bar. It’s a freak show watering hole for bodybuilder types. I don’t want you around a bunch of steroid-enhanced muscle boys all on your own. I’ll go with you.”

  “I thought you had to go back to work?” I asked.

  “I do, I mean I did.” He pulled out his phone and dialed as Grady walked into my place dressed like hunky Jamie from Outlander the TV show.

  “Aye, sassenach,” Grady said. “I see you’re Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, another time traveler of sorts. We’re matchy. I like that.”

  I swiped Raphael’s phone from him and hit disconnect. “Grady’s coming with me to The Juiced Bar,” I said. “He’ll protect me.”

  Raphael raised an eyebrow. “In that outfit?”

  “I’m a fierce Scottish Laird sworn to guard my lands as well as my woman.” Grady flexed one arm.

  “Is that a Shamwow on your head?” Raphael asked.

  “Yes, but it totally works for my outfit,” Grady said. “Besides, I’m not meeting my boyfriend for a couple of hours. The West Hollywood Halloween party doesn’t get going until later. I’ve got time to kill.”

  I frowned. “And… thank you.”

  “Oops, sorry. No pun intended.” He wandered into my kitchen and rifled through my fridge.

  I grabbed Raphael’s hand and squeezed it. “Meet me after at the big Halloween bash in a couple of hours. I’ll hit The Juiced Bar, and then, I’m all yours.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I won’t even bug you to wear a costume. Just show up as a hot cop. Say you’ll meet me.”

  “He is a hot cop.” Grady cracked open a beer and sat down on the couch, narrowly missing Anthony.

  Anthony eyed him and scooted in the other direction. “Should we deal Raggedy Ann in on the next game?”

  Derrick shook his head. “Except for the headdress, he’s not the gambling type.”

  “Annie, I wish I could meet you. But there are too many homicides in the City of Angels and I’m working late tonight.” Raphael shook his head. “I don’t think I can make it. But, if you get in any kind of trouble, promise you’ll call me. Don’t let things escalate the way you usually do.”

  I tried not to look disappointed. “There won’t be any trouble. I’ll just check out the meet and greet, and show a few pictures of Theodore. Easy-peasy. In and out. What could possibly go wrong?”

  “I don’t think you’re in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” Derrick said.

  Chapter 27

  Deadly Mistakes

  Mary (The Spirit Cat)

  THEODORE’S PERSON MEANT WELL, she really did. Annie just didn’t know what she was up against, and whom she was dealing with. And I didn’t mean the two buffoon, card-playing ghosts.

  I kept wondering if she’d put two and two together. I’d watched her solve the mysteries of a few other ghosts who wandered through here. But she was so worried, out of her mind wondering where Theodore was, and she wasn’t paying attention to who might have wanted to kill Slick the Intruder. That was a mistake, and I knew from experience that those types of mistakes could prove deadly.

  Slick’s killer didn’t find all the important paperwork, or historical documents in the briefcase that he or she stole after Anthony’s body was shoved into the sports car’s trunk.

  Anthony Spiggottini might have been a member of The Venice Historical Society, and researched historical documents for his boss, but he hadn’t found the original letter, the one worth so much money, the one that someone had killed for.

  That document could save this apartment complex from being razed, torn to the ground, or at best, simply a fireplace. Annie didn’t know it yet, but that’s what Anthony’s murder was all about. Money. Renovation. A changing neighborhood. Greed. The all mighty dollar.

  Slick’s murderer hadn’t destroyed the evidence because it was still inside Kathleen’s humble Venice apartment hidden behind an ornamental grate.

  My beloved Kathleen Barton was the most famous actress of her time. She passed away a long time ago, at the fragile age of thirty-eight, when she angered the wrong people. Political people with power, who saw fit to use her for her beauty, and then dispose of her when she got too close to her secrets. They covered up her murder and made it look like an accidental death.

  But I knew where the evidence was hidden. And the biggest piece of evidence was hidden right here.

  Chapter 28

  Someplace Nicer

  Mozart (The Dog)

  “YUCK.” Teddy sniffed the air. “This place doesn’t smell all that nice. Too much body odor, cheap aftershave, and their produce is rancid. Why did you bring us here?”

  “Because, Mary told me to,” I said.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “She had important business. Said she’d show up once we got here.”

  We peered through a thick, metal security screen door into the back of a bar. Loud laughter pealed from the front of this place while two big guys moved heavy crates around the rear.

  “I don’t like the looks of this joint,” Teddy said. “Why don’t we mosey along and wait for Mary someplace nicer. Isn’t Chinois on Main just down the block?”

  “She told me we should wait for her here,” I yelped.

  “Why is Mary in charge?” Theodore asked. “The last time she was in charge, I was catnapped.”

  Mary materialized in clouds of smoky black mist and settled on top of a stack of boxes next to the door. “You willingly went with someone who cooked for you, Theodore. The woman even let you play with her jewelry,” she said. “You were on the fast track to becoming a nail-less trophy cat living in a gilded cage. Did you even thank the dog? Where are your manners?”

  Theodore hung his head. “Thank you, Mozart.”

  “You’re welcome,” I nudged him with my snout.

  “What was that for?” He stared at me slit-eyed and pawed at his whiskers.

  “You were pretty crabby the first few times I met you. But underneath all that cat-itude, I think you’re actually a nice guy.”

  He blinked and stared at a spot on the
ground. “That’s the nicest thing a dog ever said—”

  “We’ve been spotted,” Mary said. “Scram!”

  Chapter 29

  Happy Hour

  Annie

  I STOOD IN THE LONG, packed line on Main Street waiting impatiently to get into the Halloween bash at The Juiced Bar. When the bouncer laid eyes on me, he sucked in his cheeks like he’d bitten into a sour apple candy. “Greetings Wall Woman.” He strode through the crowd and grabbed my arm. “Come with me.” He pulled me through the boisterous line.

  I looked back over my shoulder and held out my hand. “Grady.” He latched onto it and I yanked him along with me.

  Angry cries arose from the packed, edgy mob.

  “Not fair man. I’ve been waiting in line for an hour.”

  “If I miss the two for one drinks during Happy Hour, I’m sending Dorothy over the rainbow!”

  “Why does that chick get to cut? Is it Senior Citizen Night?”

  The bouncer stopped in his tracks and swiveled. “Stop your whining, losers,” he said to the disgruntled masses. “She’s on the Wall.”

  Oohs and aahs erupted from the partygoers. And just like when Moses crossed the Red Sea, the costumed horde of folks magically parted, and we entered The Juiced Bar.

  I glanced around the brewery looking for something magical or exciting. But all I saw were body builders, a few normal people, and oh great, my landlord, John Fartier. He sat at a four-top close to the long, wooden bar with a man in a buttoned up suit next to him on his right. I waved at him and shouted, “Nice to see you, Mr. Fartier. So sorry for your loss!”