“We’re short two volunteers, so that would be great, if you can spare someone,” Kat said.
Wendy scanned the bookstore. “Looks like everyone’s pretty busy,” she said at last. She turned to us with a wan smile. “Tell you what. I’ll lend you a hand. Where are the kitties?”
“Outside in the shelter van,” Kat said. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. It’s what I do.”
With Wendy in the lead, we made our way toward the rear entrance. The door to the storage area was slightly ajar, and as we passed I caught a glimpse of Ulla inside. She was slumped in a chair, her head thrown back, hand pressed against her forehead. Ulla looked almost pathetic, and for a moment I felt a bit sorry for her. We reached the back door. Wendy flung it open, and we trooped down the short flight of stairs and over to the van. As I walked around to open the side door, Kat cleared her throat and inclined her head toward a white Lincoln parked a few spaces away. Seated in the front seat were Ken Colgate and Savannah. The two of them were locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace. We quickly took out the carriers and hurried back up the steps. Once we were inside, Wendy turned to us.
“You didn’t hear it from me, but that little scene you just saw? That’s not unusual for those two.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought they seemed a bit … intimate.”
Wendy shrugged. “You could say that. But I doubt it’s anything serious. Savannah’s just out to further her career, and as for Mr. Colgate …”
“I noticed he seems to like the ladies,” I remarked. “Good thing he’s not married.”
“Oh, but he is,” Wendy said. “He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but he and his wife just celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary.”
I shook my head. Having just ended a relationship in which I’d been cheated on, I couldn’t understand women who put up with it. But I imagined everyone was different. “Do they have children?”
“Nope. Mrs. Colgate had a Persian cat, Samantha, but she died a few months ago.”
Wendy pushed open the back door again, and we went back to retrieve the rest of the cats. I noted that the Lincoln was empty now. As we made our way back up the steps, we heard a screech of brakes. A dark sedan was just pulling into a space under a large tree. Wendy glanced over at the car. “Speak of the devil. There’s Mrs. Colgate now. I guess now that they’re local, she doesn’t want to miss an opportunity to check up on her hubby.”
I looked at her. “They live locally?”
“Now they do. Mrs. Colgate is originally from Deer Park too. Her father passed a few months ago and left her the family home, along with a good stash of stocks, bonds, and investments.” Wendy leaned in a bit closer to me. “Cathy Colgate’s net worth now makes her husband’s income look like chump change. He’s got about two million reasons to be a good boy and not rock the boat.”
I turned to watch as Mrs. Colgate exited the sedan. She was rather plain looking, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, no makeup on her face save for a dusting of blush on her cheekbones. Her outfit was even a dull gray: pea coat over a matching skirt, leggings, and ankle boots. Something about her seemed familiar, though, and as she started toward us, I suddenly realized why.
Mrs. Colgate was the woman I’d seen in the shelter last Saturday morning, the one who’d left before completing the adoption application. Talk about a small world.
Chapter Five
Thanks to Wendy’s help, Kat and I soon had the cat play area up and ready for business. In keeping with our previous cat café theme, Tara had placed the pop-up cat play area right next to the café, and within a half hour we had it set up with scratching posts, cat trees to climb, and assorted toys. Sissy and Viola arrived shortly afterward, accompanied by Dayna, her niece Louise, and, surprisingly, Donna Blondell. “Donna,” Kat squealed when she saw her. “You’re helping Dayna out today?”
“She sure is,” Dayna said with a wide smile. “My cousin Clarice was going to, but she called this morning and said she was sick as a dog. Probably ate too much chili last night. Anyway, Donna was in the shop, having a latte, and she volunteered her services.”
“I’m happy to help out,” the pretty blonde vet said with a big smile. “We only have two checkups booked for today, and Amanda said she’d be fine on her own. Besides, this will be fun. I haven’t been a waitress since college.” She made a face as she opened a large box. “The only downside is wearing this.” Shopping Your Way had provided frilly white aprons, each emblazoned with the name of Ulla’s book in the corner. I couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief. Thank God the show hadn’t thought to get us similar smocks!
The signing was scheduled to run from noon until three PM. At a little past eleven, they let in a small contingent of reporters to interview Ulla, which Ken laughingly called the “meeting the press hour.” I saw Leila in the crowd and waved to her. Jim Wantrobski was close at her side, his trusty Nikon slung around his neck. A few people who were interested only in the cats and not Ulla Townsend stopped by the pop-up area, and one couple applied for Rocco, a feisty, albeit large, tuxedo cat. Leila wandered into our section a few minutes before twelve. My bestie hurried up to me, her face flushed and her eyes bright.
“I owe your friend Tara,” she said with a big smile. “She put in a good word for me with her cousin, and I was one of two reporters who got to ask Ulla more than just the usual canned questions.” She held her phone aloft. “Got it all here, and you’ll read about it in tomorrow’s special edition. Jim got some good pictures of her too.”
“Great,” I said. “Maybe now your editor will realize you’re more than just a pretty face and give you some meatier assignments.”
Leila wrinkled her nose. Her editor, Bert Parker, gave new meaning to the term male chauvinist. He was a firm believer that a woman’s place was in the home—and a female journalist’s place was reporting on fashion shows and garden parties. “One can only hope.” Leila leaned forward and lowered her voice. “By the way, our staff reviewer gave me an advanced reader’s copy of Ulla’s book. I only skimmed it, but hot doesn’t even begin to describe it … especially when she gets into all the behind-the-scenes stuff with the other hosts and staff.” Leila gave her hand a quick shake and blew on her fingers for emphasis. “It makes you wonder how she can look some of those people in the eye, especially Candy Carmichael.”
“Candy Carmichael? Really?” Candy was an attractive woman and another popular host on the channel. She and Ulla sometimes hosted shows together, and on the few shows I’d seen, there seemed to be an easy camaraderie between them. I remembered reading that Candy had recently been in line for a syndicated TV series that had fallen through, and she’d taken on more hosting duties. I wondered if Ulla’s book deal was an attempt to one-up the younger woman.
“Oh, yeah.” Leila rolled her eyes. “There’s no love lost between those two, I can tell you that. She has some pretty unflattering things to say about most of the other hosts, but Candy’s the one who gets the brunt of her wrath.”
“I wonder if Candy’s read the book, and if so, what she thinks of it.”
Leila chuckled. “From what I’ve read about Candy, she’s probably loving every minute. She was once quoted as saying, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ And I haven’t even started on the chapter about the staff yet. Of course, none are mentioned by name, but I bet it’s easy for an insider to figure out.”
“Sounds pretty juicy.” I looked longingly at the table, where Lenny had just tossed down another stack of books. “I’ll have to pick up a copy before the event’s over. The sale will benefit the shelter after all.”
“Jim’s picking up a couple copies too. I don’t believe he’s getting them signed, though.”
I gave her a look of mock horror. “What? You don’t want Ulla’s autograph?”
“Ulla Townsend? Not so much. Now if it were Ryan Gosling …” She wiggled her eyebrows, then made a motion of fanning herself. “Just make sure when you read it, there
’s a fire extinguisher nearby.”
“That hot, huh?”
“And then some.” She glanced at her watch. “Oops. I’d better make tracks. The festivities should be getting underway, and I want to get a few fan interviews before things get too crazy.”
“Good luck.”
Leila made tracks for the signing area, and I went back to the pop-up. Kat was seated at a table with an older woman who was busily filling out an application. She looked up, saw me, and motioned for me to come over. “Would you mind getting some more cat toys out of the back? It appears some of them have grown legs and walked away.”
“As long as the cats themselves haven’t walked away, I’d say we’re in good shape.”
I returned to the storage area, which had been set up as a sort of catchall area for the cable equipment, Ulla’s things, and our shelter supplies. Ulla sat at a small table while a woman brushed powder onto her cheeks. Ken Colgate was talking to her in low tones, and I noticed his wife standing off to one side, watching them intently. Ulla mustn’t have cared for whatever Ken said, because she stood up abruptly, causing powder to fly about. “Not on your life,” I heard her hiss. She jabbed her finger in the air, scant inches from Ken’s nose. “You go back and set up a meeting. No more excuses. Or else.” Her eyes took on a wicked gleam, and her gaze swiveled toward Mrs. Colgate. “Perhaps you think that just because your dear wife’s circumstances have improved, you’re above reproach now. I wouldn’t forget, dear Ken, what I can do to your reputation, both business and personal.”
Ken glanced quickly around. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, then rose and walked over to where his wife stood. The two of them conversed for a moment, and then Mrs. Colgate turned and walked toward the side door, Mr. Colgate at her heels. I walked over to the myriad of totes and boxes that were marked “Friendly Paws Shelter” and started to rummage through them, looking for the catnip sacks and balls we always took along. Suddenly I heard a loud gasp from the other end of the room. I glanced over and saw Ulla pushing the makeup artist’s hand away. “Not that, you fool,” she rasped. She reached for a large, flowered tote at her feet, rummaged through it, and then whipped out a small, glossy brown cylinder. She unscrewed the top, and I saw that it was a white, waxy-looking stick. “This,” she said to the makeup artist, “is my lucky charm.” She tapped at the case. “This is Glow’s new revolutionary lip shine. Doesn’t plump, just adds shine. It’s a great product. I’m going to be their official spokesperson, you know.”
She started to hand the lip gloss to the other woman, when Savannah burst into the room just then, waving a cell phone in the air. “Ulla? It’s Dr. Gray.”
“Dr. Gray!” Ulla set the lip gloss on the table and then snatched the phone from the girl’s outstretched hand and walked a few paces away, talking earnestly. Savannah stood there uncertainly for a moment, then shrugged and vanished into the hallway. I finished gathering up some catnip sticks and balls and was just about to go out the door, when I felt a hand on my arm. I whirled around and saw Ulla looking at me. “Are those for the kitties?” she asked. “I think I’d like to see them before I go out.”
I swallowed. “Certainly. Right this way.”
Ulla followed me back into the pop-up area. She stood for a moment and her face lit up as she took in the cats milling about the enclosed section. “What beautiful animals,” she murmured. “I love cats. They’re so elegant.” She snapped her fingers. “Where’s that reporter and the photographer who was with her? I think I’d like my photo taken with one of the cats. I can use it for promo for my shows.”
“Why … uh, sure.” I set down the heap of toys I was carrying and walked over to one of the cages. Princess Fuzzypants looked up from her grooming ritual and gave a soft meow. “Here’s a pretty cat,” I said. “The Princess is a pedigree Maine Coon.”
Ulla’s eyes darted from cage to cage. “She’s very nice, but I see one that appeals to me more.” She walked right over to Annie Reilly’s cage and dangled two fingers inside at the cat. “What a beautiful cat. Ragdoll, of course. She looks a great deal like my Pandora, who’s passed on.”
Annie Reilly meowed softly, then butted her head against the bars of the cage.
“What a precious girl,” cooed Ulla. She reached her fingers through the bars to scratch Annie under her chin. Annie’s pink tongue darted out and licked Ulla’s fingers. “Simply adorable,” she said again. Her gaze snapped back to me. “How much do you charge for adoptions?”
“Kittens and cats up to eighteen months are a hundred-dollar donation; older cats are seventy-five. I’d have to check the paperwork, but I think Annie’s two years old, so she’d be seventy-five dollars,” I answered.
“Annie?” Ulla’s gaze narrowed. “Who names a pedigreed Ragdoll Annie? You name it something dignified, like Coco or Chantal or …” She paused and brushed a tear from her eye. “Pandora.” She looked at the cat. “Pandora the Second—that’s what I’d call you.”
“Oh my Lord, Ulla. You’re not thinking of adopting a cat, are you?”
Ulla and I both turned at the same time. I recognized the newcomer right away: Candy Carmichael. The shopping host wore a flame-red dress and a chunky black necklace with matching dangling earrings. Her full, rosebud-shaped lips were curved into what I could only describe as a wicked smile.
Ulla’s expression hardened as her gaze fastened on the younger woman. She stepped forward and said in a haughty tone, “So, what if I am? What’s it to you? And what in hell are you doing here, at my event?”
“Now, now, Ulls, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Candy said with a throaty chuckle. “Management thought it would be, ah, a hoot if I interviewed you and did some narration during the signing—you know, to use as promos on the air.” She cleared her throat loudly. “You know, since I’m such an integral part of your book and all.”
The two women exchanged dagger stares and then Ulla snapped, “Best publicity you’ve ever gotten. Is that the only reason you’re here? To do promos on my book?”
Candy shrugged “What other reason would there be?”
Ulla stared at her, hands on hips. “Oh, I think you know.”
“Hey, Ulla? Paranoid much?” Candy held up both hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just do what I’m told.”
Ulla moved closer to the other woman. She lowered her voice and said in a low tone, “I know the real reason you’re here, and you’re wasting your time. You’ll get that deal over my dead body.”
Candy put her fingers to her lips and simulated a yawn. “Promises, promises,” she said with a throaty chuckle. Her gaze traveled to me. “Will the cats cooperate, or will they be scared by the cameras?”
“We take videos of the cats and put them up on Pet Finder, so they’re used to cameras. Not all of them like it, though.” I glanced over at the cages. “Rocco’s a ham, and so is Bubba. You could probably film them without a problem.”
“Great,” Candy flashed us a wide smile. “I’ll tell our cameraman. Can they be out of the cage when he does it? The studio wants to get the full cat café effect.”
“I should be in these shots too,” Ulla said smoothly. “It is my book signing after all.”
“It is.” Candy looked pointedly at the large gold watch on her wrist. “But aren’t you running a tad late?”
Ulla’s smile was frosty. “Exactly. So, what’s a few more minutes.”
“Whatever.” Candy gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll go get Ralph.” She tossed a quick look over at the cats, then vanished.
“I swear, that woman isn’t happy unless she’s shadowing me or torturing me. Oh well.” Ulla pointed to Annie Reilly. “I’d like to be photographed with her, if you don’t think the camera will frighten her.”
“It’s not the camera that would frighten her,” Viola muttered under her breath, and I bit back a giggle.
Viola got Annie out of her cage, and I went with her back into the storage area. Candy stood in the center, accompanied by a young man
carrying a handheld camera, and another whom I assumed was the soundperson. He affixed a microphone to Ulla’s dress while the cameraman started jockeying around for a good position. The makeup artist moved in with a lipstick, but Ulla waved her off. She looked at the table and frowned. “My Glow lip-gloss. I’m sure I put it here before. Where is it?”
“Is this it?” Wendy, who’d bent to look underneath the table, straightened. She held a shiny brown cylinder in her hand. “It must have fallen on the floor.”
“That’s it, thank goodness.” Ulla snatched it from Wendy’s hand and walked over to the table. She unscrewed the cap, swiveled up the pale stick, and reached for a mirror. She gazed at her reflection for a minute, then set the mirror down. “I think I look okay for now,” she murmured. She replaced the top on the gloss and slid it into the pocket of her dress. “Now that’s settled, where is the kitty?”
Viola placed Annie Reilly on Ulla’s lap, and immediately the cat started to squirm. Viola motioned to the necklace around Ulla’s neck. “Take it off and dangle it off to the side,” she suggested. “That shiny charm should keep Annie occupied enough that she’ll sit still.”
Ulla complied without a word. She dangled the necklace back and forth, and sure enough, the cat sat still on her lap, staring at the charm as if hypnotized. Ulla looked over at Candy. “Okay, make it fast,” she growled.
Ralph swung the camera in Candy’s direction, and she was immediately all smiles. “Hey folks, you’re in for a treat tonight. Ulla Townsend’s in her old hometown of Deer Park, North Carolina, here at Crowden’s Bookstore, signing copies of her book. But she’s also a big animal lover, and her signing today benefits the homeless cats at the Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, felines who are looking for their forever homes.”
Death by a Whisker Page 5