Catnapped

by Gabriella Herkert

  Connor leaned back against the bench and raised his hands to cradle the back of his head. So much for gallantry.

  “I wasn’t meddling.”

  Connor turned a half laugh into a loud throat clearing, and I glared at him. “This investigation started with a case at work. I have an obligation to a client.”

  “Even if the client is a cat?” Wesley crossed his arms over his spreading middle, a trace of amusement in his gray eyes.

  “If you already know everything, why did you want to talk to us?”

  He sighed. “I wanted to talk to you because what I don’t know about is last night.”

  “Last night?” I used my most innocent tone.

  “Yeah. Last night. After I talked to Mrs. Burke yesterday, I called the impound lot that was holding her husband’s car. This morning, bright and early, I’m out there with a local deputy who tells me someone else was asking about the car yesterday.”

  “Really? How interesting.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Are we under arrest?” Connor’s quiet voice filled me with dread. I hadn’t meant to get him in trouble.

  “Do I need to arrest you to get some cooperation, Commander?”

  “Mitchell Burke’s death was ruled an accident months ago,” I said defensively. “The car’s not even evidence. So no crime was committed. No crime, no arrest.” Maybe I ought to apply to law school. I was pretty good at this logic stuff.

  “When you have to drug the guard dog, you can be pretty sure you’ve committed a crime.”

  “Maybe we should stick to hypotheticals, Sergeant,” Connor suggested.

  “Hypotheticals. Yeah, that sounds good.” I agreed. “Hypothetically speaking, how’s the dog?”

  Sergeant Wesley chuckled softly, shaking his head. “In a bad mood. Tell me about the car.”

  “Hypothetically, I might think blood on the passenger side and a jammed driver’s seat is a little peculiar, given my victim’s height,” I offered.

  “I might think”—Connor grinned at me—“hypothetically, that the waitress in the local diner might know about someone out of place the night of the so-called accident.”

  Wesley took his worn notepad out of his pocket and scratched a few notes. “Anything else I should know?”

  “You might check out the secretaries of any bigwigs you run across,” I said.

  “What have you been doing besides visiting impounds in the middle of the night?”

  “Me? Nothing. Have you been doing anything, Con?”

  “Not me.”

  “I’ll need you to come down to the station so we can do some elimination prints.”

  “Hypothetically, Sergeant, neither my wife nor I would be foolish enough to leave our prints if we were, shall we say, straddling some sort of legal standard.”

  “No. We’d definitely wear gloves.”

  “Of course you would.” Wesley groaned. “I’m going back to work, and you should go back to looking for your missing cat. No more impound lots, no more business partners, no more background checks. You do your job and I’ll do mine. I’m not joking. If I find out you’ve done one more thing, made so much as a single call to New York, I will arrest you.” He was looking straight at me.

  “Arrest me? How come you’re not threatening to arrest him?” I pointed at Connor.

  “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea who’s driving this particular bus. I mean it, Ms. Townley. No more.”

  “It could’ve been his idea.”

  “No way.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m married.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Connor and I wandered around the market for another hour, hand in hand like high school sweet-hearts. This couple stuff had some real upsides. My face hurt from grinning. Around noon, the sizzling sun finally drove us back up the hill toward the apartment.

  “It’s not usually like this,” I said, mopping at my forehead as we climbed the stairs.

  “You don’t like it warm?”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s just that Seattleites can overdose on ten minutes of sun a day. An entire week of actual summer might put me into a coma.”

  “We can’t have that.” Connor led the way into the kitchen and poured two glasses of lemonade.

  I took a big gulp, and an ice-cream headache slammed against my eyes. I shuddered as the pounding in my head made a delicious counterpoint to the quenching of my thirst. “Oh, that’s good.” Holding the glass against one cheek, I moved back into the living room before slouching in the armchair. Connor remained standing.

  “I hate to do this, honey, but I’m going to have to check in here pretty soon.”

  My cheek felt suddenly cold and I took the glass away and placed it carefully on the side table. “You’ve got to go back.”

  “Eventually. Actually, it’s likely to be sooner rather than later.”

  “How soon is sooner?”

  “A day. Maybe two.”

  “Then what?”

  “I go back to work.”

  “Oh.” I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the chair. I hadn’t really thought about him going back. I’d always known he had to go. Of course he did. He couldn’t just stay here and be my Dr. Watson forever. He had things he had to do. Important things. Dangerous things. The lemonade soured at the back of my throat. I opened my eyes and sat up straight in the chair, my smile plastic.

  “What are you thinking?” He sat on the coffee table facing me.

  “I’m going to have to go back to making my own coffee.”

  He smiled. “I’ll miss you, too. After I figure out what the duty schedule is going to be, you could come visit me.”

  “In San Diego?”

  “Sure.”

  “I guess I could do that. I hear they have a pretty good zoo.”

  He reached out and lightly touched my hand. “Don’t forget Shamu.”

  “And Shamu.” I cleared my throat and jumped up from the chair. “You’re probably going to want a little privacy. You can use this phone.” I picked up the cordless receiver and handed it to him. “You’ll just need to dial one first for long distance. That was stupid. You already know that. I’m just going to go into the kitchen. Maybe I’ll look for something for lunch.”

  “You’re babbling.”

  “It’s rude to notice.”

  He stood and walked to where I was hovering in the kitchen doorway. He kissed my forehead; then lifted my chin for a soft kiss on the lips. “It’s going to work out, Sara.”

  “Sure it is. Go make your phone call.”

  He turned his back on me and moved toward the window, dialing.

  I swallowed hard and went into the kitchen. The cupboards held the same stale crackers I’d tried to pass off as breakfast. Eight days since Flash had had a meal. He’d probably welcome stale crackers. That’s what I needed to do. Concentrate on him. Finding him. And Jepsen. Getting enough evidence to put him away forever. They were a lot more important than some stupid phone call in the next room. I just needed to focus.

  I moved to the sink and rinsed coffee cups, running the water at high speed to try to overcome an overwhelming need to eavesdrop. I wanted to know and I didn’t want to know. I dried my hands and went to the kitchen table. I was pushing the papers from the case file into a stack when Millicent’s employment agreement caught my eye. It had been in the initial file. I hadn’t thought about it since. I picked it up and stared.

  “We have at least another day.” Connor spoke directly behind me and I jumped, whirling around. I put a hand to my pounding heart. “Sorry. Maybe I should wear a bell.”

  “No, better not. That sneaky thing probably works pretty well on the job.”

  “It does have its uses. What’ve you got there?”

  “A gift from our friend Sergeant Wesley.” I handed him the paper.

  “Maybe next time we should register somewhere.”

  “Funny. Don’t you get it?”

 
; He looked down at the page. “It’s Millicent’s offer of employment. The Private Placement Employment Agency.” He looked up, astonishment on his face.

  “Signed by . . .” I pointed at the signature.

  “Henry Jepsen, vice president.” He shrugged.

  “Yes. And just this morning Sergeant Wesley warned us not to call New York.”

  “Actually, he warned you.”

  I put my hands on my hips and gave him my megawatt smile. “New York. He knows about New York.”

  He grinned. “Pretty big leap there, Sara.”

  I went into the living room and picked up the phone, dialing the employment agency. After six rings a machine picked up. I left my name and number with a request to call back as soon as possible.

  “It’s Saturday,” Connor remarked.

  “I know it’s Saturday, but some people work on the weekend. Heck, we’re working.”

  There was a knock on the door and Connor went to answer it, returning a moment later with Russ in his wake. He came over and gave me a hug.

  “Your door was locked.”

  “What?”

  “Your door was locked. Your door is never locked.”

  I pointed at Connor. “New security system.”

  “We should all be so lucky. How goes the gumshoe business?”

  “We’re getting close. I can feel it. If somebody would just call me back.” I shouted at the handset I still held before flinging it to the couch.

  “Feeding time?” Russ asked, looking over at Connor.

  “Maybe,” Connor mumbled.

  “Then I arrived just in the nick of time.” Russ held up a two bags I hadn’t noticed before, swinging them in front of my face. “I’ve got all your favorites. Chicken salad, crusty rolls, some ice cream.”

  I lunged for the smaller bag, taking it and peering inside. Butter pecan. My mouth watered.

  Russ moved over to the armchair and sat down, setting the bag on the coffee table. “I thought I ought to bring lunch in case she hadn’t given you the standard ptomaine warning about things in her refrigerator. You could easily have ended up at the hospital with the same Nurse Chang who so enjoyed our last visit. The bigamy story would get out, and then that sergeant friend of yours would arrest me. There’d be this big trial with CNN and Larry King hanging around. I would look tragic, but very well dressed.” He sighed, putting a hand on his crisp ice blue polo shirt directly over his heart. He crossed his legs and pulled at the crease in his khaki pants. “I’d be famous, but at what price?”

  Connor and I laughed.

  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Connor said.

  I laughed again, walking into the kitchen. Russ and I had been a two-person team for so long, I was surprised Connor fit so well. It seemed almost too easy. I hummed a little as I went into the kitchen and put the ice cream in the freezer. Then I got plates, napkins, and silverware and brought them back into the living room, where Connor and Russ were opening Styrofoam cartons on the coffee table. I took a seat next to Connor on the couch, helping myself to generous servings of salad and bread. I took a bite of the chicken.

  “Mmm. Good.”

  “From abuse of telephonic equipment to one-word murmurings with just the introduction of a little sustenance and the anticipation of a sugar high. I hope you’re paying attention, Connor. The skills you learn here could save your life someday.”

  I rolled my eyes in Connor’s direction but his gaze remained fixed on his plate even as his cheek twitched. I nudged him hard.

  “That’s enough out of you.” I pointed at Russ with my fork, using my most menacing expression even though I wanted to laugh.

  “Yes, of course, Sara. Whatever you say, Sara. Can I get you anything else, Sara?” Russ leaned toward Connor. “Meek submission is another effective technique.”

  I threw a roll at Russ. It hit him in the head and bounced onto his plate. He picked it up with two fingers and a disdainful, long-suffering expression, and put it on the coffee table.

  “On the plus side, she doesn’t throw like a girl.”

  We all laughed.

  “So what are you doing today? Other than bribing us with food to put up with you over lunch.”

  “The radio station is sponsoring a concert on the pier and I’m hosting.”

  “Who’s playing?” Connor asked, looking up just long enough for me to steal his roll from his plate. He glanced at me with upraised eyebrows.

  “James Taylor.”

  “Oh, I like him.” I took a bite of the roll, grinning at Connor.

  “Maybe you ought to come by, then. I could add your name to my list of people at the gate. I have another friend coming, and he’ll be alone in the staff box.”

  “That sounds great, but we’re kind of waiting for this phone call. Maybe we’ll track down some other leads.”

  “We’re probably not going to get a callback until Monday, Sara.”

  “I know. I just think there might be some other things we could do. Besides, Russ isn’t going to be all alone. He’s got his friend coming, and there’s always his adoring audience.”

  Russ stood, setting his plate on the table. “All work and no play makes Sara a very dull girl.” He came over and kissed the top of my head. “But if you feel you must keep your nose to the grindstone, who am I to try to talk you out of it? Just because you’re luring some poor, unsuspecting fool”—Russ looked at Connor—“nothing personal—into your no-fun, no-life web, I’m not going to say a thing.”

  “It takes you more words to say nothing than anyone I ever met.”

  “I’m eloquent.”

  Russ moved toward the door.

  “Thanks for lunch,” Connor called.

  Russ stopped and turned. “You’re welcome.” He pointed at me. “You owe me.”

  “What about the ice cream? Aren’t you staying? I think I’ve even got chocolate sauce and maybe even some whipped cream around here somewhere.”

  Russ leered. “The mind boggles, but three’s a crowd.” With a cheery wave, he left.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Since we’ve apparently got some time to kill, why don’t you tell me what you expect to learn from this call to New York?”

  Connor followed me into the kitchen, watching as I riffled the papers in front of me. I pulled the fax of Cort’s file out of the stack, and stood reading.

  “I plan to prove motive in the murder of Mitchell Burke,” I told him.

  “Which is?”

  “Jepsen killed Burke to keep him quiet about the insider.”

  Connor frowned. “What insider?”

  “The one stealing from the pension plan.” I held the fax to him.

  “You think Burke figured out there was an inside man?”

  “Better. I think Mitchell Burke figured out there was an inside woman.”

  Connor looked up. “Was the secretary with him at Masterson Enterprises?”

  “Not the secretary, Con. Millicent. Millicent was the inside woman.” I pointed to the fax. “Cort made a list of all the people he was going to check out. Millicent’s name was on that list. Look, there are check marks next to everyone else’s name. She’s the only one he didn’t clear.”

  Connor looked back down at the fax. “Okay, but she was dead by the time Cort came on the scene. Maybe he was leaving her for last. What would be the point of blaming her if she was already dead?”

  “Things happened after that, Con. The money going missing, for one. And Masterson’s disappearance. Millicent might have been dead, but her partner wasn’t.”

  “Jepsen.”

  “Yeah, Jepsen. So, I’ve got Millicent tied to Jepsen. He murdered Cort. Cort works for Burke’s wife, which leads to Burke and his murder. I honestly can’t see how Flash fits into any of this. So where is he?”

  “He’s a cat, babe. He might have gone native.”

  “It’s a long time between meals. What about water? It’s been so hot. . . .”

  “He could have figured it out.
Mice, puddles, sprinklers. I don’t think he’s got anything to do with this either.”

  “First thing tomorrow, I’m checking back with all the shelters.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Connor moved back into the living room and sat on the couch. I followed him and sat down. His eyes were far away as he processed my theory. He leaned back against the cushions, pulling me back to spoon against him.

  “I’m thinking . . .” I began.

  “Dangerous.”

  I poked him. “I’m thinking,” I repeated, “that the relationship between Jepsen and Millicent might go further back, before she was ever hired. If we could show that Millicent and Jepsen were in on something together, we’d have a smoking gun.”

  “Hardly. Still, motive is important. Convince me.”

  “I think it’s all connected. Burke’s murder, the dead investigator, Masterson’s disappearance, the missing pension money, the whole thing.”

  “What missing pension money?”

  I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

  “I can keep a secret.”

  “I know. It’s just the guy—I mean person—who told me . . .” I looked at Connor. He’d never tell. I could trust him. “Forget it. The Masterson Enterprises pension fund has an accounting irregularity.”

  “Nice euphemism.”

  “Right now my firm thinks it’s just a computer glitch, but I was thinking maybe it was the ‘something’ that Millicent and Jepsen were in on together.”

  “Lay it out,” Connor said, rubbing my shoulders.

  “It’s the timing. Jepsen hires Millicent a few weeks before he’s forced out of Masterson Enterprises. Do you think he didn’t see that coming? He was a longtime partner of Stuart Masterson. Don’t you think he would have seen the handwriting on the wall?” I leaned forward, dropping my head toward my chest and closing my eyes.

  “Probably.”

  “So Jepsen knows he’s on his way out. He has a minority interest. Masterson controls everything, and there’s nothing Jepsen can do but hire a bunch of lawyers with money he doesn’t have to try to take on Mr. Billion-dollar Masterson with his high-powered law firm. He’s got to know it’s a long shot. Go a little to the left. Yeah. Right there. Oh, that’s nice.” He had magic fingers. “Anyway, even if he wins, it’ll be years before he collects. By then he’ll have lost everything. So maybe he decides he’s not going to wait. He’s going to get his payout up front. Since he knows he’s about to be pushed out, he’ll need help.”