I looked Maggie straight in the eye. “You went to high school with Ulla, didn’t you?” I asked. “Grace Topping mentioned it the other day.”
“How on earth did Grace …? Oh, right—her cousin was also in our class.” Maggie let out a sigh. “Yes, Ulla and I went to school together. I actually tried to be nice to her, but …” She ran her hand through her hair. “That was a losing proposition.”
“Ulla was in with a bad crowd?”
Maggie’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Ulla was the bad crowd. A real hellion, all on her own. Suffice it to say she pulled some pretty dirty tricks on me, and on some of the other girls too. A lot went down back then, and it didn’t exactly leave a good taste in too many people’s mouths.”
“A lot of that goes on in high school,” I said. “And even if Ulla was a bad seed back then, she seems to have redeemed herself nicely.”
“Hmpf,” Maggie muttered with a deep scowl. “She might come across all sweetness and light on that cable show now, but I know the real deal. She wasn’t a nice person then, and a leopard doesn’t change its spots.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Look, I don’t really like to talk about it,” she said. “It brings back bad memories. I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” I said, although I didn’t. My curiosity was burning now, but what else could I do but respect Maggie’s wishes. “If you don’t want to talk about it, well, then you don’t have to. It’s fine with me.”
Maggie looked relieved. “Thanks for not pressing me on this, Syd. I know how much you’re intrigued by a puzzle or a mystery, but trust me—this is something you’re better off not knowing. Everyone is.”
I tried not to let Maggie see just how much more curious her words had made me. “If you say so. It’s just that Kat and I hate to see you upset, Maggie. You’re very important to the shelter—and to us.”
“Thanks for that,” Maggie said, and I noted the catch in her voice. “I appreciate your loyalty. Trust me, I wish the circumstances were different. You have no idea,” she added softly. “I really couldn’t stand to be within ten feet of Ulla Townsend—no, wait; make that ten inches. I’ll be more than happy to make it up to you gals some other way, but as far as Saturday goes, count me out. I’m sorry—I really am—but I just can’t.”
“I understand, but if you should change your mind …”
“I won’t,” Maggie said firmly. She turned her back to me and her attention to the cat. I waited a few more minutes, and when Maggie didn’t turn around again, I walked out of the playroom, got my things, and left. I pondered the situation on my short drive home. It was very clear that something had happened between Maggie and Ulla, and even clearer that Maggie, at least, held some sort of grudge. What could it be?
I sighed as I turned into my driveway. One thing was for sure: I wasn’t going to find out from Maggie. If I wanted to solve this mystery, I was going to have to find some other source of information. Who knew? Maybe if luck were with me, I might even find out something from Ulla herself.
Chapter Four
“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Kat moaned.
Saturday, or “Caturday,” had finally arrived, and Kat and I were both in the shelter van, staring out of its windshield at the line that had already formed outside Crowden’s, and it was only ten AM! The signing wasn’t scheduled to begin until noon, but already a slew of Ulla Townsend fans had started camping around the front of the bookstore. There had to be at least two hundred people there, maybe more.
“Well, per Tara, that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” I said as I started up the van and pulled away from the curb. “She told me that she’s expecting five hundred people, maybe more, even. The news about Ulla’s appearance hit several major newspapers, plus she was talking about it on all her cable shows. Tara thinks people might even come here from North Carolina and Georgia, maybe even farther away.”
“Grand,” my sister moaned again. “Maybe we should have come here earlier. Now where are you going?” Kat asked as I made a sharp left down a narrow alley.
“I’m parking in the back lot. No way I’m carrying cats past all those people—unless you want to wait for Viola and Sissy?” Viola was our eldest volunteer and Sissy Arledge, a high school junior, our youngest. Neither would have a problem pushing through that crowd with our precious cargo.
“No, they weren’t sure what time they’d be able to get here.” She let out a sigh. “I do wish Maggie wasn’t so stubborn. She’s always good at things like this.”
“I know, but she was very firm about not getting within ten feet of this place, so we’re on our own.” I exhaled a breath. “Let’s do it.”
There was a myriad of trucks in the back lot, most of them emblazoned with the cable channel’s logo. I managed to squeeze into a space not too far from the back entrance, and then Kat and I each picked up a carrier and hot-footed it to the back entrance. Fortunately, the back door was open, so we walked in and went straight through to the main store area, where we stopped and gawked at the scene before us. The bookstore was hardly recognizable—there were wires and cameras everywhere, and people wearing microphones scuttling to and fro. A wide table had been set up to the left of the register, and it was loaded with copies of Ulla’s book. I balanced the carrier carefully in one hand and reached for a volume with the other. A very flattering photo of Ulla in a pink suit and white blouse graced the cover, while the white block print above her photo screamed out: SHOP TILL YOU DROP—MY STORY.
I flipped to the first chapter, entitled “Bargain Barracudas,” when a girl wearing a white CNC cable channel shirt and headphones whizzed past, paused, did a one-eighty, and snatched the book out of my hand. “We’ve got that set up just so,” she informed me in an icy tone as she returned the book to the pile. “For the paying customers,” she added. Bright blue eyes swept me up and down. “You are …?” She stopped speaking as she noticed the carrier I held in one hand. “Good Lord. Is that a cat?”
Before I could answer, a loud voice called out, “Oh, Kat! Syd! I’m so glad you’re here!” I turned my head and saw Tara emerge from the back room. Her face lit up in a smile that looked more relieved than anything else. If she hadn’t spoken, I might not have recognized her. She’d traded in her usual uniform of jeans and a sweatshirt for a red and white floral dress. The platform wedges she had on easily added another three inches to her petite five foot two frame. Instead of her customary swipe of lip gloss and mascara, I noted that her face had been professionally made up. Her high cheekbones were highlighted by a soft rose blush, and the taupe shadow on her eyelids brought out the flecks of green in her hazel eyes—eyes that right now were wide and looked frightened. The girl in the white shirt beat a hasty retreat as Tara reached out to grasp Kat’s wrist. “Sorry to sound so panic-stricken; it’s just nice to see a friendly face.”
I shifted the carrier in my arms. “That’s okay, Tara. I would too. All this does seem to be a bit overwhelming.”
“Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Tara murmured. Her normally soft voice was even lower-pitched right now, and she ran a hand nervously through her hair. “I have a section cordoned off next to our café especially for the kitties,” she said. “And our storage room has been set up as a sort of catch-all for your supplies and Ulla’s. It’s right near the restroom and the back entrance. We usually keep the back door locked, but today we’re leaving it wide open”—she gestured around—“because of all the activity.”
“Understood.” I gave her outfit a once-over. “You certainly look beautiful,” I ventured. “That’s a lovely dress.”
Tara looked down at it, plucked at the hem with nervous fingers. “I guess. It’s my cousin Wendy’s. She said I needed to wear something bright so I’d stand out in the publicity photos. She’s around here somewhere—oh, there she is.”
A tall girl, hair cut stylishly short, wearing a black pencil skirt, plum-colored silk blouse and matching vest, came striding toward us. “Tara, there yo
u are. The publicity department wants to get a shot of you, if you’ve got a minute.” Her head swiveled and her dark gaze settled on Kat and me, one eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.
“These are the girls I told you about. The McCall sisters.” Tara swept her arm toward us. “Katherine and her sister, Sydney. They run the Friendly Paws Shelter. This is my cousin, Wendy Sweeting. She produces Ulla’s segments.”
Wendy gave us both a curt nod. “Tara makes me sound way more important than I am. I’m only one member of a highly skilled team.” She glanced at the clipboard she held in her hand and then let out an exasperated sigh. “I have to find Freddie. We’ve got to be certain all the microphones are in good working order.”
“Shopping Your Way is taping today’s signing to use for on-air promotion,” Tara explained. “Also for Ulla to celebrate her fifteenth year with the show, which is coming up soon.”
“Wow,” remarked Kat. She smiled at Wendy. “That’s a lot of extra work for you, I imagine.”
“Oh yes,” Wendy said, a wry tone to her voice. “We were originally just going to send a photographer and get some still shots, but Ulla insisted on a full taping. It was her idea to use this event for her fifteenth anniversary celebration. Never let it be said Ulla Townsend missed out on any opportunity to bleed as much publicity as she could from anything.” She paused and rubbed absently at her forehead. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so cynical.”
“No problem.” I smiled at her. “I used to work in advertising, so I can imagine how stressful your job must be.”
Wendy’s pert nose wrinkled, and she reached up a hand to rub at the base of her neck. Her gaze dropped and for the first time she seemed to notice the carriers Kat and I held. “So, those are some of the cats you’re going to try to get adopted today?”
“Yes.” I held up my carrier. “This beauty is Princess Fuzzypants. She’s a Maine Coon.”
Wendy leaned forward for a closer look. “She’s gorgeous,” she remarked. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding her a home. And this one?” She waved her hand toward Kat’s carrier.
“Annie Reilly. She’s a Ragdoll.”
Wendy leaned forward, and as she did so, the silver chain that was looped around her neck swung forward. Annie’s paw shot out like a flash, twined in the thin chain.
“Yow!” Wendy reached out and disengaged the cat’s claws from her necklace. “It looks like this little cutie likes jewelry.”
“Annie does seem to have a penchant for shiny things,” I admitted.
“A cat after my own heart. What self-respecting gal doesn’t?” chuckled Wendy. “We’re expecting a large crowd, but we wanted to keep the kitties away from Ulla’s signing area, you know, to avoid distraction.”
For the author or the cats? I wondered. I smiled at the woman. “Well, if you’ll just show us where the cats are to be stationed, we’ll start bringing everything in. We’re expecting two other volunteers as well.”
“Wendy, there you are!” came a harsh-sounding voice. “What I need right now is to take a pee. And I could use a smoke. Find Savannah—she’s got my cigarettes. And is there any sparkling water around here? I’m simply parched after that wild ride to get here. All those people outside! I thought some of them were going to jump across the hood of the limo—hey, hold the phone. Are those some of the kitties?”
Even though she was clearly at least ten years older and just about as many pounds heavier than the photo on the book’s cover, I recognized Ulla Townsend instantly. She swept toward us on a cloud of Chanel No. 5, her arms outstretched. She had on a pink suit that was a definite ringer for the one on the book’s cover, but a high-necked white blouse instead of a V-necked one. Her ash-blonde hair was done up in a beehive style, and a thin chain from which dangled a bullet-shaped charm rested against her blouse. The red-lipped smile she shot us was wide, displaying a row of perfect, snow-white teeth that were, probably, caps. Her dark brown eyes darted first to Kat, then me, then back to Kat. She pointed a long red nail straight at us. “You must be the shelter folk. The McCall sisters, right?”
I saw Kat’s jaw tighten at the term “shelter folk,” but she plastered a wide smile across her face and said, “Yes. I’m Katherine McCall and this is my sister, Sydney. We’re so grateful that you could step in for Dudley Simmons today.”
“Of course you are, dear.” Ulla fairly purred the words. “What better way to ensure the success of your event. And I know you want it to be a big success. After all, you’re getting a percentage of my sales, right?”
The proprietary way she said my sales wasn’t lost on me, nor on my sister. Kat drew herself up to her full five foot nine and looked the woman straight in the eye. “That is correct, the shelter is getting a percentage. A much-needed one, I might add,” Kat corrected quietly. “It was very generous on your publisher’s part … and yours too, of course.”
Ulla looked startled, then barked out a laugh. “Touché, young lady. Well, the shelter will certainly be raking it in today. Have you seen that lineup of people? They’re stretched around two blocks. Looks like the whole darn town of Deer Park turned out.”
“That does seem appropriate, since you grew up here, right? Possibly some of your local fans might even remember you from back then.”
Ulla tipped her head back and let out a deep laugh. “Lord, I hope not,” she said. “I’m a much different person now than I was then.” Her tone grew almost wistful. “It seems like two lifetimes ago. I doubt anyone still lives here who might remember me.”
Ah, there was my opening. “Funny, you should say that; it seems one of our volunteers—”
I never got to finish the sentence, however, as a loud voice boomed out, “Ulla, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Ulla turned toward the speaker, a tall, handsome man wearing a gray, striped suit. His expertly cut dark hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and there were a few lines around the corners of his blue eyes. I placed his age at somewhere in the late forties, early fifties. Ulla’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I saw her shoulders tense; the next moment she relaxed, and a bright smile crossed her face. “And now you’ve found me,” she said. “Fancy that.” With that flippant remark, she turned and flounced off toward the rear of the store. The man stared after her, his expression clearly one of annoyance; then his face cleared, and he turned to look at us.
“Forgive my client’s rudeness,” he said. “I’m her manager slash literary agent, Ken Colgate.” He glanced at the cat carriers and added, “And you two ladies must be from the shelter, am I right?” Without waiting for an answer, he moved forward, grabbed Kat’s free hand, and started to pump it up and down. “Allow me to apologize in advance for anything Ulla said or might say to you today. She doesn’t mean to come across as condescending and belittling, but unfortunately … she does. Believe it or not, it’s part of her charm.”
“Oh, Ken … Mr. Colgate.”
We all turned toward the speaker, a willowy redhead in a bright blue wrap dress. She minced over, on four-inch strappy sandals that looked like they cost a fortune, to where Colgate stood, and waved a sheaf of papers at him. “I have those contracts you wanted to see.” She frowned as her gaze wandered to rest on Kat and me. “Maybe now isn’t the right time?”
“No, no.” Colgate extended his hand. “Now’s perfect.” He took the papers from her outstretched hand and riffled through them. “They’re all in order,” he said crisply, handing them back to her. “Make sure you put them away. Now, where did Ulla go? We should get started.”
“I think she wanted to freshen her makeup,” murmured the girl. “I’ll go check.” With another small smile, she sauntered off, papers tucked firmly under her arm. I noted that Colgate’s eyes never left the redhead until she’d vanished around the corner.
Kat gave me a soft poke in the ribs. “We should get moving,” she said. “Make sure everything’s ready to go on our end.” She inclined her head toward Colgate, who’d whipped out his iPhone an
d was busy tapping something into it. “Nice to have met you.”
“Oh. Likewise,” he murmured.
As Kat and I turned to go, Ulla barreled into the room, the redhead trailing in her wake. Ulla held an iPhone in one hand, and as she approached her manager, she waved it under his nose, almost hitting him in the face. “Just look at this,” she rasped. “It’s the cover story on this month’s Star magazine. They’re actually considering that harlot for Glow.”
Colgate reached out and pulled the phone out of Ulla’s hand. “Now, my dear, you shouldn’t look at those gossip rags at all, and especially not before an appearance. You know how upset it makes you. We don’t want you to have one of those nasty panic attacks.” He started to slide his other arm around her shoulders, but Ulla raised her hand and swatted at it.
“I’m not having a panic attack,” she snapped, “but I do believe there is something wrong with the people I employ to keep my best interests at heart.” Her finger shot up, jabbed at the air under his nose. “You know more about all this than you’re letting on. I can tell.”
Colgate must have realized there were other people standing nearby, because he cleared his throat and said in an even tone, “Now, Ulla, this is not the time, but we do need to talk.”
“Darn right, we do!” she growled. She turned and snapped her fingers at the redhead. “Savannah, find me some aspirin. I’m starting to get a raging headache.”
“We can’t have that,” Ken murmured. He looked around and caught sight of Wendy just entering the room. He motioned to her and said imperiously, “Wendy. Water for Ulla, please. And two aspirin. We’ll be in the back area.”
For a split-second, Wendy seemed taken aback; then she quickly recovered. “Sure,” she murmured. She watched Ken lead Ulla out, her lips screwed into a pained expression. Then, as if she’d just become aware of the fact that Kat and I were standing next to her, she summoned up a quick smile. “Ulla’s water can wait. Do you need a hand with the animals?” she asked.
Death by a Whisker Page 4