Crossing the Lion: A Reigning Cats & Dogs Mystery

by Cynthia Baxter

  “Y’mean the bow?” she asked, peering at it. “I thought it was kinda pretty. Don’t y’think so?”

  “Uh, yes.” Especially now that I know it was supposed to be decorative, I thought, and not threatening.

  In fact, I was more than a little relieved at having finally met the relative who lived in the attic. Not only did she appear harmless, but the longer I talked to her, the more charming I found her.

  “Since you’re here,” Aunt Alvira said abruptly, “how about a game of cards?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, not sure I’d heard her right.

  “Rummy five hundred. A penny a point.” With a sly wink, she added, “But I should warn you that I’m probably gonna beat the pants off ya.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. I figured that even if I lost the whole five hundred pennies, having the opportunity to talk to Linus’s sister for the entire length of the game was well worth it.

  She switched off the TV and we sat down in the living-room area, me on the couch and Alvira on a chair opposite me. As I nestled into the soft cushions, the Maine coon, still draped across a couch cushion, glared at me, the look in his green eyes telling me he was annoyed that I’d invaded his space. But there were clearly no hard feelings on the part of the sleek black cat, who came over and began rubbing against my leg, purring loudly. I responded by reaching down to pet his silky fur.

  All the movement prompted the white long-haired cat to wake up from his nap. He leaped off the windowsill and wandered over to plop down on a large flat pillow that looked as if it had been placed on the floor expressly for that purpose. I got the feeling that now that a card game was about to start, he wanted to be closer to the action.

  Even Muffin came out of hiding. She was a pretty gray-and-white kitty who was so shy she hovered behind Alvira’s chair, all but hidden. She poked her head around the corner just enough to watch both of us and the rest of the cats from afar, acting like the kid nobody wanted to hang out with on the playground.

  Meanwhile, the gray-and-black-striped tabby marched right past all the others and jumped into Alvira’s lap. She moved with surprising energy, given the fact that she was a bit overweight.

  “Don’t tell the others, but Madeira is my favorite,” Alvira confessed, lovingly stroking the cat who had just curled up in her lap. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of ’em. Still acts like a kitten, too. Or a puppy, to be more accurate. Loves to play, chews up everything in sight … She’s a real snuggler, too.”

  “You’re lucky you have such a loving family,” I commented, gesturing toward her entourage.

  “Darn right,” she agreed. “They don’t talk, either.”

  Picking up the deck of the cards resting on the table, she said, “I’ll deal.” She began tossing cards at me with the adeptness of a dealer at Monte Carlo—or at least someone who’d spent a lot of time racking up pennies at the Boca Raton Senior Center.

  I waited until she’d scored 312 points to my meager 108 before cutting to the chase.

  “I haven’t had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about your brother’s death,” I said, watching for her reaction.

  Alvira’s face crumpled. “Terrible, isn’t it?” she said, lowering her freshly dealt hand of seven cards. “The poor man went way before his time. Linus was only a couple of years older than I am. That brother of mine was the picture of health. At least, that was what I thought.”

  “One consolation is that he no doubt enjoyed his last night,” I commented, “being surrounded by so many of the people he was close to. I understand his birthday dinner was a lovely event.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she mumbled. “I skipped it. Linus came up for a glass of champagne beforehand so he and I could have a little celebration all our own. There was no way I going to force myself to sit through dinner with those insufferable relatives of mine.”

  I realized with a jolt that Alvira had no idea her brother had been murdered. How could she? No one had thought to invite her when Winston revealed what he’d learned at the medical examiner’s office. And while the news was quickly becoming common knowledge to anyone who owned a television, she’d apparently been watching Oprah broadcasts she’d recorded with TiVo rather than the news.

  Hesitantly, I said, “Alvira, what do you think of the idea that there might have been foul play involved in Linus’s death?”

  She didn’t miss a beat before asking, “Y’mean the possibility that somebody bumped him off?”

  Startled by her bluntness, I replied, “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “It’s possible,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe even likely.”

  I was equally startled by her immediate acceptance of the idea that her brother had been murdered. “Why would you think that?”

  Keeping her eyes fixed on the cards she clutched in her hands, Alvira replied, “Like I said, Linus was in pretty good health, so he wasn’t supposed to die. Not yet, anyway. But it sounds as if you know something.”

  I took a deep breath, then as gently as I could told her about Linus’s phone call to Winston, the results of the autopsy, and the chief of homicide’s conclusion that her brother had been murdered.

  I braced myself for her reaction, expecting rage or tears or some other explosion of emotions. Instead, her eyes misted over and her cheeks reddened.

  After a few seconds of silence, she said in a choked voice, “I guess that doesn’t surprise me. Not when there were plenty of people who had something to gain by my brother kicking the bucket.”

  “Who?” I blurted out.

  She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say a word as she studied me for a few seconds. Finally she cocked her head and said, “You look like a pretty smart lady. I bet you can figure that out all by yourself.”

  “But you’re part of Linus’s family,” I pointed out. “You’ve known Charlotte and his children and all the other people who were close to him for years. I only met them yesterday.”

  I also suspected that Alvira was someone who knew pretty much everything that went on in this house—and that she was someone I could trust to be straight with me. I made a mental note to ask Betty and Winston what they knew about Linus’s eccentric sister, the first chance I got.

  “I’d love to see the monster get caught,” Alvira said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Even if it turns out to be somebody I’m related to.”

  “I would, too,” I told her. “But I can use all the help I can get.”

  “In that case,” she said with an odd little smile, “I’ll give you a clue.”

  “Great!” I cried. “What is it?”

  She hesitated. “On second thought, I think I’ll wait.”

  I felt like a balloon that had just had a close encounter with a cactus. “Why?”

  “Because I like you,” she replied, her chin jutting in the air defensively. “You’re spunky, like me. I like spunky. And I want you to come back to visit. We can even play another game of rummy, if you want. I need to check my calendar, but I believe I’m available tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come visit you anytime you’d like!” I insisted. “I promise! You don’t have to lure me up here with promises of information.”

  “Aw, I know how it is,” she said, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “People get busy and they forget about things they intended to do. This way I know you’ll be back.

  “Besides,” she added mysteriously, “who knows what you’ll find out between now and then? You might not even need my help.”

  Suddenly her face lit up. “Hey, if you’re coming back to visit me tomorrow, how about doing me a favor?”

  I hesitated before asking, “What kind of favor?”

  “Bring me some of Cook’s homemade fudge. Every once in a while she makes a batch and sends some up with my dinner. I’m supposed to watch the sugar, but lately I’ve been craving that stuff like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Everybody has their price, I thought. I supposed that in the grand scheme of things, buying infor
mation with fudge wasn’t such a bad deal.

  Especially since it wouldn’t pave the way only with Alvira. Securing a batch of homemade fudge would also give me an excuse to talk to the woman who’d prepared Linus Merrywood’s final meal, the one that had apparently done him in. And while Falcone had been quick to take Margaret Reilly off his list of suspects, I didn’t see why I needed to be in such a hurry to remove her from mine.

  • • •

  Just as Aunt Alvira had promised, by the time I went back downstairs to the part of the house where the really quirky people hung out, I was out eighty-three cents. But instead of agonizing over my newfound vice, I was mulling over what to do next.

  I yearned for the chance to sit down with each member of the household, one at a time, to see what I could find out—just as Falcone had. But the chief of homicide possessed credentials I lacked, which meant I was going to have to come up with a more creative strategy.

  I was still pondering possible ways of accomplishing my goal when I wandered into the sitting room in the front of the house, right off the front hallway. I’d hoped to have it all to myself. Instead, I found Charlotte, Missy, and Scarlett standing at the window, peering out into the fog that still surrounded the house.

  “This never happens!” Missy cried. “People just know better!”

  “Goodness, I hope it’s not someone from the press,” Charlotte added. “That nice Lieutenant Falcone warned me that reporters and photographers were doing everything they could to sneak across the bay.”

  “It couldn’t be a member of the press!” Scarlett insisted. “The cops would stop them—wouldn’t they?”

  “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “A boat just pulled up at the dock,” Missy replied. “Someone’s coming onto the island! A man—someone the family hasn’t authorized.”

  I didn’t know if her explanation for why the three of them were in such a tizzy was good news or bad news. From the way the three of them were acting, it sounded as if Attila was lining up outside with all his other Hun buddies. Instead, one lone soul had ventured across the stormy seas to Solitude Island, someone who was either very brave or very foolhardy.

  When the knocker sounded, I realized we were all about to find out which of those characteristics the individual in question possessed.

  “I’ll get it!” Missy cried, dashing toward the front door with such speed I suspected Jives would be no match for her, even if he’d been capable of mustering up the energy to try.

  I followed, with Charlotte and Scarlett close behind. So I had an excellent view as Missy flung open the door, revealing a hunched-over figure, his face covered by the hood of his dripping-wet raincoat.

  He wasn’t readily recognizable. But I couldn’t say the same for the two friends he’d brought along, both of them even wetter and more miserable than he appeared to be. And I couldn’t remember having ever been so happy to see anyone in my life.

  Chapter 6

  “An optimist is someone who gets treed by a lion but enjoys the scenery.”

  —Walter Winchell

  Nick!” I cried, resisting the urge to hug someone so wet. “You’re here!”

  “I missed you,” he replied. He gave a little shrug, and the lock of dark-brown hair that’s always falling into his eyes did exactly that. “And I decided that even second-year law students are entitled to the occasional weekend in the country. Or, in this case, a remote island.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed. Glancing down, I added, “And I’m so glad you brought Max and Lou!”

  Nick’s eyes were shining as he came toward me, and he was wearing that smile that always makes me feel as if my internal organs are melting. As soon as he peeled off his sopping jacket, he took me in his arms. Then he gave me exactly the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’s been married to you for only five months.

  But our romantic reunion did not go uninterrupted. My Westie and my Dalmatian kept jumping up and down, pressing their paws against our legs as if they were saying, “Pay attention to us!” I didn’t know which of the new arrivals seemed happier to see me, my husband or my two dogs.

  And as delicious as kissing Nick was, I couldn’t say no to my beloved canines.

  “I think you’d better show them how happy you are to see them, too,” he said, as I pulled away from him reluctantly. Grinning, he added, “You and I will have plenty of time to catch up later.”

  I crouched down so that I was at eye level with Lou, who was wagging his tail so hard I was glad there were no valuable antiques close by.

  “Hey, Lou!” I cooed, pressing my face against his. “How’s the best doggie in the world?”

  The other contender for that highly coveted role wasn’t about to take that comment lying down. Max, being a terrier, is the more energetic of the two—which is just a polite way of saying he’s pushier. Terriers are known for their tenacity, which means they have absolutely no qualms about shouldering their way to the front of the line whenever something of value is being doled out. And that includes affection.

  “Hell-o, Maxie-Max!” I cried, turning to him. He was jumping up and down, panting and waggling his nearly tailless butt. I scratched both his ears and rubbed my nose against his wet, pulsating snout. “I missed you, too! I’m so happy to see my favorite Westie in the entire universe!”

  “I left the cats and Prometheus with Suzanne,” Nick told me as he stood by, watching us luxuriate in our joyful reunion. “And Leilani will be fine in her tank for the next few days.”

  Suzanne Fox is a veterinarian, too, which meant she’d undoubtedly taken adding two felines and a blue-and-gold macaw to her household in stride. At the moment, her only other animal resident was Skittles, who partnered with her boyfriend and roommate, Trooper Kieran O’Malley, on the New York State Canine Unit. I had a feeling Tinkerbell and Cat would be bossing that German shepherd around in no time.

  I suddenly remembered that we weren’t alone—there were witnesses to the humiliating behavior I always indulge in around my beloved doggies.

  I stood up and made some quick introductions, relieved to see that Charlotte, Missy, and Scarlett looked a tad sheepish, too, even though they hadn’t just reverted to baby talk and goofy conduct. I supposed that their embarrassment was rooted in their panicked reaction to the arrival of someone who turned out to be interested in their houseguest rather than them.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Nick,” Charlotte greeted my husband warmly, shaking his hand. “And you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like—now that we know who you are, of course.”

  “We should probably leave you two alone,” Missy said, leading her mother and Scarlett away. “Or I suppose I should say you four.”

  “I’m really glad you found the time to come,” I told Nick after the others were gone and we’d done some more catching up in the kissing department.

  “Me, too.” His grin faded. “It wasn’t easy, though. You should see the madhouse on the other side of the bay!”

  “Paparazzi?”

  Nick nodded. “The entire coastline is packed with photographers and reporters and vans from all the TV stations. Even the snakes from the tabloids are standing out there in the rain.”

  “It serves them right,” I said, chuckling.

  “I’ll say,” Nick agreed. “You should see the sound bites they’re coming up with, Jess. Billionaire Bites the Dust—Literally. Captain of Industry’s Death Is No Yolk. It’s really horrible.”

  “I can’t believe how quickly word spread,” I said, grimacing. “It sounds as if those reporters found all this out even before the family did. It’s just as well that the Merrywoods are keeping away from all the craziness out there. Speaking of which, how did you manage to get over to the island?”

  “Turns out I know a couple of the cops on duty,” he replied, “from before law school, back when I was still a private investigator.”

  Turning back to my doggies and giving them both an even more vigorous ear-scratchi
ng, I gushed, “You sweet little doggies are going to love it here! There are lots of long hallways to run down, lots of corners to sniff, Frederick is here—and you’re going to make two terrific new doggie friends named Admiral and Corky!”

  “What about me?” Nick asked teasingly. “Am I going to love it here, too?”

  I stood up. My eyes widened as I breathlessly told him in a near whisper, “Nick, you’re not going to believe this place!”

  Glancing around, he replied in a soft voice, “I already don’t believe it. Have I just walked onto the set of a horror movie?”

  “Trust me, the way this place looks is the least of it,” I assured him. “Wait until you get to know the Merrywoods and everyone else who’s associated with Solitude Island. As far as I can tell, everyone who’s in this house right now is a suspect.”

  Nick grimaced. “In that case, maybe I should pack up Max and Lou and get the heck out of here.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I cried. “I need you. In fact, I can’t wait to get you upstairs in my bedroom—alone.”

  He sidled up to me, wearing a big, sloppy grin. “Because you so desperately missed my hot, irresistible body?”

  “Not exactly,” I told him. “It’s more like I missed your hot, irresistible analytical mind.”

  He looked so crestfallen that I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Okay, I need you because of that other reason, too,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Leaning closer, I whispered, “But not until I’ve filled you in on what’s been going on around here.”

  • • •

  As Nick lugged his suitcase and his black nylon backpack through the door of the bedroom, with Max and Lou following right behind, he let out a low whistle.

  “Whoa!” he exclaimed as he dropped his suitcase onto the floor. “Talk about a haunted-house motif! Are those eyes in that wallpaper?”

  “Quite a design, isn’t it?” I replied with a grin. “Wait until you see that hidden staircase I mentioned.”

  His eyes widened. “I thought you were joking!”