Feline Fatale

by Linda O. Johnston

  But I was fine. And I didn’t want to lose her as a friend. And …

  Hey! There was someone I needed information on, whom Brody so far knew nothing about.

  “You know, there is one person I wanted to ask you to check on for me, Althea.”

  “Yes?” She sounded excited.

  “The thing is, I only recently realized that even though I’ve been acquainted with her for a while, I don’t know her last name. But knowing you, you’ll figure it out. Could you please give me all you can find about a woman named Kiki? She’s a sometime actress, although I don’t know any roles she might have gotten. Her current job is as an animal caretaker at Doggy Indulgence Day Resort.”

  “That’s the place you take Lexie, isn’t it? Your friend Darryl owns it. Can you ask him Kiki’s last name?”

  “I don’t want him to know what I’m up to, Althea, or even suspect it. Please just see if, even without her last name, you can find anything at all on Kiki.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ON SATURDAY MORNING, I brought Lexie along as I accomplished my earliest petsitting visits. Then we headed for Burbank. I needed to hand the keys back to Wanda for the condos where I’d pet-sat yesterday on my friend’s behalf, though I thought some of those she’d handed me might be duplicates.

  “Thanks, Kendra,” Wanda said, meeting me at the door to her condo unit after buzzing me in. “Hi, Lexie.” She made a fuss over my adorable Cavalier, and I did the same with her Basil. I drew the line at hugging and petting Darryl, though, when he appeared behind them in the entry.

  “Have you figured out yet who killed Margaret?” he asked with obvious hope.

  Even if I hadn’t already known how hard this all was on him, I’d have guessed it from the bags beneath my buddy’s eyes.

  “Still working on it,” I assured him.

  “Would you mind coming along with me on a couple of visits, Kendra?” Wanda asked. “Lexie can stay here with Basil.” And with Darryl, which was, I assumed, the main reason she’d invited me—for a discussion out of his earshot.

  “Fine,” I said. I couldn’t stay long, since I still had the rest of my own morning petsitting visits to do, but I’d hang out as long as possible to lend any moral support I could to my friend. I had some questions for her, too. Like what did Detective Melamed ask her yesterday? Did she happen to mention my call about Paulino Shiler? Had Wanda been finally dismissed from the suspect list?

  We walked down the hall, heading, it appeared, toward Lady Cuddles’s unit. “Yesterday was the pits,” Wanda began, slowing her pace.

  “I’ll bet,” I responded encouragingly.

  The questions she’d been asked this time weren’t much different from the last time—more about why she just happened to go into Margaret’s apartment, where she had discovered her dead body. Why they’d been arguing, since their verbal feud, commonly known around the condos, had been reported by a rash of residents. Where she had been earlier on the night Margaret was killed, which I had subtly inquired about before, too. She’d told me she was doing her regular petsitting, at Brigadoon and elsewhere, although the animals couldn’t give her much of an alibi. Presumably that’s what she’d also told the cops, too. Wow, they apparently hoped she’d step all over what she had answered before, so they could leap on that as a sign of her guilt.

  But, she confirmed, nothing in her responses had changed.

  The detective hadn’t mentioned Paulino’s attempted burglary yesterday. The first Wanda heard about it was when I had called early that morning to let her know I would be at her unit soon.

  Wanda was still, apparently, a suspect. The detective had assured Wanda she’d be in touch again soon.

  Some action on my part was needed, and I’d been working on ideas for what that should be.

  We had just reached the door to the unit containing Lady Cuddles. I backed up a little so I’d be primed to catch the elusive kitty if she happened to get by Wanda, who unlocked the door.

  As soon as she pulled it open, though, it wasn’t a zooming Lady Cuddles who greeted us, but a tall guy frowning behind his glasses. He wore khaki shorts and no shirt, strange on this cool January day. “Wanda!” he exclaimed.

  At the same time, she squeaked, “Jamiel.” They obviously knew each other. I hoped they’d fill me in soon, though I had more than a hunch who the guy was: Lady Cuddles’s owner, and therefore the resident of this unit, finally home from his trip.

  “Sorry we didn’t call you,” Jamiel said. “We took an overnight flight from Honolulu and just got back.” He turned and called behind him, “Trudy, Wanda’s here.” He then looked at me, then, expectantly, to Wanda.

  She hastily introduced us. “Kendra helped me take care of Lady Cuddles a couple of times. She’s the one I mentioned to you by e-mail.”

  “Great. Good to meet you.” Jamiel waved us into the unit, which I’d visited before. In layout, it resembled the others I’d seen in this building: Wanda’s and James’s and the one previously belonging to Margaret Shiler. It had a small entry leading into the living room, with a hallway to one side. Its furnishings were pleasant but not necessarily plush, with an ornate set of wooden shelves along one wall containing bric-a-brac and a TV. The hardwood floor, partly covered by a rug, was much more decorative than those I’d seen in other Brigadoon units.

  Jamiel asked us to sit down. Before we did, a woman entered from behind us, Lady Cuddles snuggled in her arms. Jamiel’s turn to make some introductions.

  Trudy Gustin was clearly of Asian ancestry, with thin, dark brows over lovely almond eyes, and facial features that suggested she could easily win beauty contests. She was clad in a slinky silken robe. “Thank you both for taking care of our little one, here. Only …”

  Uh-oh. Was she about to castigate us for allowing Lady Cuddles to run around the condo complex? Other residents could have filled her in. Or, more likely, Wanda had kept her informed.

  “Is something wrong?” Wanda sounded fearful that she had indeed done something to hurt the kitty. She sank onto a chair.

  “Not really.” But Trudy’s questioning tone suggested otherwise. “But—well, she’s wearing a different collar and name tag. What happened to the ones she had before?”

  Ah! I’d intended to quiz Wanda just a bit about the timing of when Lady Cuddles’s gear had gone missing. Now I didn’t have to bring it up myself.

  “Actually,” Wanda said, “I don’t know where they went. She was wearing them on the first days I took care of her, and then … well, on one of her runs through the condo she appeared to have lost them.”

  “I’m so glad Wanda replaced them so quickly,” I interjected on her behalf, sitting on a chair next to Wanda. “With Lady Cuddles escaping from here as much as she did, I’d hate to think what could have happened if she’d been out without any identification at all.”

  “True,” Trudy said thoughtfully, heading gracefully toward the sofa. “I liked her original stuff better, but it won’t hurt to have a backup if I try to replace the original ones.”

  “Right,” I said. “And while we’re on the subject … Wanda, do you happen to remember when you first noticed that Lady Cuddles’s collar was missing?”

  I held my breath. Would she remember—and would it be the timing I was counting on?

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I can’t forget anything about that evening. It was one of the times Lady Cuddles had gotten out of here, and I was hunting for her. I found her.” Wanda shuddered. “I also found Margaret Shiler’s body. Of course I told you about that,” she said to the Gustins, “since the reason I was even in her unit was because the door was open and I was afraid Lady Cuddles had gotten inside. Which she had, the poor thing.”

  The Gustins were suddenly close together, looking sad and solemn and supportive of one another, which was sweet. They, unlike almost everyone else in the complex, weren’t on my suspect list. Far as I knew, they had indeed been on their extended trip to Hawaii when Margaret was killed.

  “I’m
just glad she was okay,” Trudy said. “She might have seen the killer, right?”

  Wanda nodded. “As I told you on the phone, she seemed freaked out. Even scratched me a little when I picked her up. I had to leave her for a while when the police came, since I was supposed to keep the crime scene just as it was when I entered.”

  “My poor baby,” Trudy said.

  Said baby seemed to snuggle even closer into Trudy’s arms, as if she understood the conversation, the cute kitten.

  “But when you first walked in, saw Margaret, and found Lady Cuddles in her unit,” I prompted, “was Lady Cuddles wearing her collar then?”

  “No, that’s what I meant, Kendra. I won’t forget anything about that night. That’s the first I noticed that the collar and name tag were missing.”

  “Did you tell the police?” I asked.

  “Sure, when they questioned me that night—not that they seemed impressed. I can’t imagine it had anything to do with what happened to Margaret, either.” She looked earnestly toward Trudy. “But I do feel responsible that it was missing. I’m still looking for it, and I’ve asked around the condos, too. No one seems to have seen it. I even asked Detective Melamed again yesterday if they happened to find the collar and name tag in the unit when they investigated the crime scene. She looked at me like I was crazy for asking anything about their investigation.”

  “Did she happen to answer?” I inquired.

  Wanda shrugged. “No, and I got the sense that she thought I was insulting her by suggesting she hadn’t done a thorough search of Margaret’s unit.”

  Had she, and had the crime scene techs?

  The idea niggling at the edges of my brain was now swirling full-force through my consciousness.

  It might be utterly asinine, and get me nowhere because the doggy sense inside me was barking up an absolutely wrong tree.

  But I’d never know unless I tried.

  WE SOON LEFT the Gustins’ unit. Wanda had animals in other units to check on before heading out to see more petsitting clients, and I needed to get on with my critter visits, too.

  I stopped at her unit, said ’bye to Darryl and Basil, and picked up Lexie.

  Wanda accompanied us out. As we walked, with Lexie on the leash at my side, I got further input from Wanda about what the police had actually asked her. She’d shown she was attempting to cooperate by answering as well as she could, not simply clamming up because her counsel was present.

  “Esther encouraged me, though I know she was worried about what I might inadvertently say that could hurt me.”

  “What all did they go over?”

  “Same as before. They wanted my time line, what I’d done before, why I happened to go into Margaret’s unit, how Margaret and I got along, and why we weren’t best buddies. They didn’t get into pushing me harder for a confession, so I assume they were still fishing for inconsistencies. I don’t think I gave them any, at least none of significance.”

  “Did Esther tell you afterward that anything seemed off to her?” We’d reached my Escape, and I encouraged Lexie to get in the backseat.

  Wanda shook her head, her pretty face looking utterly downcast. “But I’m getting so frazzled by all this, Kendra, I’m liable to turn everything upside down if they question me again. They’ll think that’s a sign of guilt, not nervousness. And Darryl—well, he’s been such wonderful support. But our relationship’s so new … I’m afraid of what the stress will do to it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone, not in front of him. Give him time to think of something else for a few minutes.”

  “Darryl’s a special guy,” I assured her, but she already knew that. “He’ll be there for you.”

  I hoped. My own experience with men hadn’t been so wonderful. But then the men I’d fallen for weren’t as steadfast as my fast friend Darryl. Or at least the way he used to be toward me.

  “One final question, then I’ve got to go,” I told her. “Lady Cuddles’s collar and name tag. I gather the cops either aren’t attaching any significance to their disappearance, or they’re not letting you in on it. Do you recall any reaction at all when you brought them up?”

  “Well … in some ways that Detective Melamed reacted less to it than to anything else I said.”

  Which could mean she was hiding what she really thought.

  “I can’t promise anything,” I told Wanda, “but I’ve an idea that just might help us find who killed Margaret.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ON MY WAY to my next petsitting place, I got a call. “Hi, Kendra,” said Althea’s familiar voice. “I’ve found some stuff for you.”

  “On Kiki?” I inquired, stopping at a red light. I glanced into my rearview mirror and saw that Lexie was lying down. Evidently her stay with Basil had worn her out—not a bad thing.

  “That’s Kiona Kistner to you.”

  “No kidding? That’s her real name?” The light turned green, and the Escape headed forward, with my assistance. Only a few more blocks, and we’d be in the Encino residential area that was our goal.

  “Assuming she’s the employee of Doggy Indulgence Day Resort, and she’s also an actress represented by the Imminent Stars Film Agency, that’s her.”

  “I don’t know the name of her agent, or even if she has one, but I know she’s a wannabe actress. And, yes, she unfortunately works for Doggy Indulgence. So … I guess she is—what was it?”

  “Kiona Kistner. I’ve got a bunch of additional info on her for you—address, phone number, and all of that—the easy stuff to find, and even more, though I don’t think you need her Social Security number. But there’s something else.”

  I was always curious about how Althea made finding anything on anyone so easy. Superhacker? Sure, but I suspected there were some resources available to those in the security industry that, if the rest of us knew the extent of the supposedly private info they could access, we’d feel far from secure.

  “Like what else?” I asked her.

  “She’s been talking to some real estate agents in the Valley about a commercial site.”

  “Interesting.” I drew out the word, wondering what the woman was up to. And why it caused her to resent Wanda’s getting close to Darryl. I still wasn’t sure if she had any romantic interest in my good friend. “What kinds of property is she looking at?”

  “Still checking, but it seems to be storefront property in visible locations.”

  I’d reached the curb outside the home of Mountie, a Greater Swiss Mountain dog who’d been my client for a while. I especially liked Mountie because his coloration was similar to Lexie’s—black and white with auburn trim—but he was a whole lot bigger. Fortunately, he was a sweetie, so I intended to bring Lexie in while I tended to and played with him.

  I waited for a minute, though, since I was still speaking with Althea. “Kiki—Kiona—wants to open a store?”

  “Unfortunately,” said Althea in one of her driest tones, “even my best research doesn’t give up what’s in someone’s mind, unless they’ve conveyed the information in a manner I can find.”

  Something I’d have to check into. Did it have something to do with Kiki’s recent snit, her obvious irritation with Wanda, her fear I’d found out something about her—and the seed she’d planted in my mind about possibly being so riled that she’d even considered killing a person Wanda didn’t get along with, like Margaret, to frame her for it?

  Far-fetched? Yes, but feasible.

  “Thanks, Althea,” I finally said. “As always, I owe you.” I cringed slightly, awaiting her usual fee these days: insisting that I get together with her boss, Jeff Hubbard, for a meal, in case seeing him again made me yearn for the old days when he and I were an item. She wasn’t the one necessarily exacting that payment. I knew that Jeff had told her to insist on it. Even if he was out of town, I might still be obligated on his return.

  “Yep, you do,” she said—but she didn’t add a demand on Jeff’s part.

  I wondered why.

  “B
ye, Kendra,” she finished, and was first to hang up.

  Leaving my curiosity hanging. But Lexie and I needed to go in to see Mountie, so I didn’t worry about it … much.

  AFTER FINISHING OUR sitting, standing, walking, and playing with the rest of my pet charges for the day, Lexie and I headed somewhere I’d visited only infrequently: Dante’s corporate headquarters in Beverly Hills.

  I needed something from him. Mostly information this time, but I figured he, or his company, would be the perfect source.

  So what if it was Saturday afternoon? That’s where he was. I called from my car, just in case, and he confirmed his official location.

  “Any of your staff around, too?” I inquired as I entered a ramp onto the San Diego Freeway heading south.

  “A few. I cracked my whip a couple of times, so those wanting to get furthest in the company decided to drop in to humor me.” His tone made it evident that he was attempting to be funny, not some hard-hearted executive who expected his peons to be at his beck and call at every moment.

  In his retail business, I knew it wasn’t unusual for employees to be busy on weekends. He’d even confirmed it. On the other hand, I was talking about the main office, not a store that the public would soon stop patronizing if its hours weren’t convenient.

  In any event, Lexie and I soon arrived at his building, parked in the nearly empty underground garage, and headed up on the elevator. In the lobby, I was quickly permitted in by the security guard, whom I’d met before and who expected me. Lexie and I headed for the next bank of elevators and were soon at the door to the headquarters of HotPets.

  I pushed the button on the security system outside and gave my name when someone responded. A guy I hadn’t met before immediately opened the door. He was young and smiling, dressed in a white shirt and black slacks despite this being a weekend, and all but bowed to me. “Kendra? I’m Stan. Dante told me to let you in. Can I get you coffee? What a cute dog. Can I get her a biscuit? Some water?” I figured he’d go far in the HotPets organization, assuming no one despised him for trying too hard.