Feline Fatale

by Linda O. Johnston

  “I’ll let Lexie loose,” I told him. “Mind sitting over there for a little chat?” I pointed to a bench that wasn’t far away, and we three humans all headed there.

  As he had the last time, Paulino put his backpack on the ground. “What’s up?” he asked. “I haven’t seen anything new on TV about the investigation into Margaret’s death.”

  I shook my head sadly. “They don’t exactly keep me in the loop.” I didn’t even know what they’d said or done to Paulino in response to his raiding Margaret’s condo unit, but doubted he was about to tell me.

  I noticed a guy come through the gate with a German shepherd resembling Wagner. The dog stayed at his side despite the distraction of all the other pups in the park, obviously well-trained. Like a K-9. Had Candace Melamed sent him as an undercover observer?

  We chatted a little more before I said, “I mostly just wanted to touch base with you, see if you had any more ideas about who might have wanted to hurt Margaret. The police haven’t let go of the idea of my friend Wanda, and though it’s really up to them to solve the case, I still would like to help.”

  “I’ve told them all I know. And you, too.”

  “That’s what I figured. Look at our dogs.” I pointed a little distance away, where his pups seemed to be playing a game of keep-away with Lexie, using a rag toy as bait. “That’s so cute!” I reached into my purse and brought out my cell phone. “I’ll get a picture. Hey, come over here and you can help me pose them.”

  Which he did. Both of us played for a short while with the dogs, tossing the toy between us so the pups kept dashing from one of us to the other.

  They eventually grew bored, and so did I. Besides, I believed my objective had been achieved. I led Paulino back toward the bench, where Brody had remained, cheering us on.

  “There’s one more thing I wanted to run by you,” I told Paulino. “Did you know there was a runaway kitten that was in Margaret’s apartment before anyone found her body?” He didn’t. I explained the whole bit about the missing collar and name tag. “Her name is Lady Cuddles. It just seemed much too coincidental that her identification disappeared around the same time Margaret died. There’s some speculation that the killer stole them. Maybe they contained a clue, like a bit of blood.”

  “Strange,” Paulino said, not sounding especially interested.

  We talked for a little while longer, Brody easily answering Paulino’s questions about his acting career—and, yes, he already had an accountant, so unfortunately didn’t need Paulino’s services.

  Then I said, “Know what? I forgot to bring any treats for Lexie. Do you have any extra in there?” I motioned toward his backpack, which was still on the ground.

  “Sure.” He lifted it and unzipped the top.

  I leaped up and sideways and said, “Hey, look at that!” as I shoved my way toward Paulino, my hand beneath his backpack. I upended it, and a bunch of contents tumbled to the ground.

  Including a small white cat collar with a little blue name tag.

  “What’s that?” Brody asked.

  I gasped. “It looks like Lady Cuddles’s!” I pulled a tissue from my purse and picked it up, as though attempting to ensure I didn’t erase any evidence. I’d been observing that guy with the shepherd staying somewhat nearby, so I spoke loudly enough to provide a clue, if needed. I checked the name tag. “It says Lady Cuddles,” I confirmed, sounding quite shaken. “Paulino, I thought you said you didn’t know the kitten. And—”

  “I didn’t. I don’t. And I don’t know how that got there.” He sounded panicked. Was this proof—or at least an indication—of his guilt?

  And then he looked at Brody and grinned. “How’d I do, Mr. Avilla? Did I pass your audition? I assume you stuck it there to see how I’d react, in case you needed someone to act in one of your films. Or an Animal Auditions show. ’Cause I didn’t put it there, and I certainly didn’t kill Margaret.”

  Thing was, I believed him. About not killing Margaret, I mean. I already knew he didn’t shove the collar into his backpack. Brody had done that while Paulino and I were playing with the dogs, using one of the new ones that I’d stuck into my purse.

  Interesting reaction, though. I caught the disgusted sneer and shake of the head on the guy I figured was sent by Detective Melamed. He and his dog headed toward the exit.

  So did Brody, Lexie, and I, soon afterward. We didn’t exactly admit our rationale to Paulino. Maybe he guessed the truth but decided to turn it around in his favor.

  Brody, good sport that he was, even said he’d keep Paulino and his excellent reaction in mind for future productions he was involved in.

  So far, I’d gotten two entirely different reactions by using the new collar for bait. Would it really help me figure out who’d killed Margaret?

  At this point, I didn’t know. And I still had a cast of thousands—well, at least several other potential suspects—to try it on.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  PROBLEM WAS, MY scenario could get awfully time-consuming. But till I figured out the actual killer, I’d need to stay involved.

  Plus, as I kept pushing at people for reactions, they might start chatting to one another and spoil the surprise. If that happened, the guilty party could pull off a perfectly calm response and potentially throw me off his or her trail.

  But even with all the energy I anticipated spending in a short while, I didn’t need to use up a lot of Dante’s or Brody’s time.

  Brody and I met on the Valley side of the hill for a quick cup of coffee. We sat outside at one of the chains, Lexie lying at my feet. We humans rehashed what had happened and got a good laugh out of it.

  “Who’s next?” he asked, and I told him the next couple of people on my agenda. “Sounds promising. Have you figured out when you’ll try your charade on them?”

  “I need to schedule a visit to each. But really, Brody, don’t worry about it. I can handle it, especially since I intend to keep the cops informed.”

  He called Dante, and together they read me the riot act. I would keep them in the loop. And allow at least one to accompany me to each meeting.

  I sheepishly agreed, rather misty-eyed about how much they seemed to care.

  In any event, my ensuing call, with Brody observing, was to Wanda. I filled her in and told her that the next person I hoped to eliminate from my list was her friend and neighbor James Jerome.

  After we hung up, she called back almost immediately. “He’s home now and expecting us,” she said. “I won’t be able to stay long because I need to take a Rottweiler for a walk, but if you can come right away …”

  “Sure.” My mind raced a bit. I could call Detective Melamed, but having her send someone to observe inside James’s unit wasn’t going to happen. Still, I could figure out a way to shoot pictures, just in case. Plus, I’d have two other people as backup. Wanda would be there—and I could tell from Brody’s interested expression that he would be, too. “What does James do for a living?” I asked. I hadn’t inquired before, but his being home on a weekday, even so late in the afternoon, suggested he was either unemployed or worked from his condo.

  Turned out to be the latter. “He has an okay business buying and selling guinea pig items on the Internet,” Wanda replied.

  A kinda competitor to Dante’s HotPets’ Web site, I assumed, on a small scale. I wondered how much money he made with such a limited market. Or maybe there was more to it than Wanda knew.

  I did call Detective Melamed. Rather, I left a message. She hadn’t told me how to contact her guy in the field, and I didn’t think she’d want me to explain all to the officer who answered. I left my number and the address where I was heading. She’d understand.

  Brody and I soon headed toward Burbank in separate cars. I’d have preferred not taking Lexie along on this particular outing, but didn’t want to take the time to drop her off either at home or at Doggy Indulgence.

  What I could do, though, was leave her in Wanda’s apartment with her friend and fellow Caval
ier, Basil. Wanda was fine with that. Then the three of us humans headed through the zigzag halls to James’s.

  He opened the door immediately. “Great to see you, Kendra.” He gave me a hug and looked suitably impressed when I introduced him to Brody. “I’m a real fan,” he said as they shook hands.

  “Did Wanda tell you I’m still digging for details about Margaret’s murder?” I asked as he showed us into his sparsely furnished living room. The slight rodent odor managed to break through the scent of cleaning solutions in the air. I went straight for his amazing maze of guinea pig habitat and smiled at the wiggling noses of the inhabitants.

  “Yes, she did,” James said. Like Wanda and Brody, I took a seat on the threadbare sofa. James wasn’t wearing one of his usual guinea pig shirts that day, but a button-down that suggested he was going, or had been, out and about.

  We chatted about how the investigation was going. “Too bad Lady Cuddles can’t talk,” I told him. “We don’t know exactly what she saw, but she might be able to ID the killer. And … well, there is one way she could actually be of assistance.” I described the missing collar and ID tag. “The cops seem to think that the murderer might have made off with them, assuming blood got on the collar or whatever.”

  “Interesting,” James said. “Haven’t seen anything like that around here.” His dipping eyebrows raised toward his receding hairline in apparent sincerity. He was another one I hoped wasn’t guilty, but who knew?

  In any event, the trap was baited. Now it just had to be set.

  We talked next about how things were around Brigadoon, with restless residents still concerned about how the pet issues might wind up being resolved.

  “With Margaret out of the picture, are there still a lot of folks besides the Bertinettis who want to rule out pets?” I asked.

  There were a few, and we discussed that for a while. I soon inquired if I could use his bathroom. “I can find it,” I said with a grin. “All these units have the same layout, though some are mirror images of the others.”

  Which also meant I knew the location of both bedrooms in this unit—down the same hallway that contained the non-master bath. Only a small part of the hall was visible through the living room doorway, so I made sure I was out of sight as I peeked into the other chambers.

  One was James’s bedroom, as sparsely furnished with stuff that looked as if it had been bought used from a charitable organization as the living room was. The other bedroom was clearly his office. The desk wasn’t any better than the rest of the furniture, but the computer appeared to be state-of-the-art.

  I popped carefully inside and pulled the latest collar and ID tag from my pocket, hiding it behind the desk.

  I then went down the hall for my stated destination, and flushed with the door open so all could hear.

  No one had resolved how to deal with the pet-haters by the time I returned to the living room. I stayed on that topic for a while, fed by comments and questions from both Brody and Wanda. Then I said, “James, Wanda said you have an online business selling guinea pig products. Is that true? I’m fascinated by the idea and would love for you to show me how you do it.”

  “Me, too,” Brody said, with a cherubic smile that would probably cause thousands of female film fans to faint. “I’ve got this idea of selling showbiz memorabilia online as a sideline. But it always seems so challenging. Maybe you could show us how.”

  James seemed pleased by the interest and showed us down the hall and into his office. We stood in a group behind him as he logged on and displayed a few pages of stuff he sold: guinea pig food, treats, toys, and even cages, as well as shirts, notepaper, pens, banners, and blankets depicting guinea pigs. For the large items, he said he had an arrangement with wholesalers who would drop-ship the stuff when orders came in. He also showed us his pages on eBay.

  As he talked and demonstrated, I started edging around the room as if I needed to see the screen from a different angle. I wasn’t sure whether he was watching me, but I’d occasionally say something admiring so he’d at least know where I was.

  And then I gasped aloud. “What’s that?” I exclaimed, pointing to a spot behind the desk.

  “What’s what?” Brody asked, playing along.

  “Is something wrong, Kendra?” Wanda asked, also on the same wavelength.

  Only James seemed oblivious. “It’s my favorite guinea pig harness-and-leash set.” He pointed to the screen.

  “Oh, maybe that’s what it is,” I said in exaggerated relief. Then I bent and gingerly lifted the white cat collar from the floor, dangling it from my index finger. “No, it isn’t. It’s Lady Cuddles’s missing collar! The ID tag has her name and address on it.”

  “What?” James’s eyes went suddenly wide, as if he was finally tuning in to our conversation. “Not possible. I’m all for pets, but I’m not a cat person. I wouldn’t allow one in here, anyway, ’cause it would bother my guinea pigs.”

  “The point isn’t that Lady Cuddles might have been in here,” I responded patiently. “But like I said, there’s some suspicion that the murderer might have stolen her collar and ID when he murdered Margaret, to hide evidence that could incriminate him or her.”

  “Oh.” He looked at me blankly, as if he couldn’t quite get his mind to grasp what I was aiming at.

  Which told me how unlikely he was as a viable murder suspect. The killer, whoever it was, would surely be keeping his or her mind, eyes, and ears open for any suspicions people had about Margaret’s murderer and any potential evidence.

  I aimed a brief smile toward Brody and Wanda. Brody’s confirming nod ended in an instant, and Wanda’s pretty face appeared relieved. We were all apparently on the same page.

  “I don’t remember ever seeing that before,” James continued. “How could it have gotten in here?” He looked and sounded befuddled. And then he looked straight at me. “Oh, my lord, you said that the police thought the killer stole that collar. Someone must have planted it here. I didn’t like Margaret, sure, but kill her? No way! Now what am I going to do?”

  “It’s no big deal,” I assured him softly. “I’ll talk to Detective Melamed, who’s in charge of the investigation. I don’t think you’ll wind up any higher on her suspect list than you already are.”

  His puzzled expression segued into a glare. “You put it there, didn’t you, Kendra? You wanted to see what I’d do, if I’d act guilty.”

  “Yep, I’m guilty of that. And my opinion is that you acted innocent. I can’t guarantee what the cops will do. But at least we can vouch for you.” I glanced toward Wanda, then Brody, and they both expressed concurrence.

  We left soon after. “I don’t think James is very happy with me,” Wanda said with a sigh as we walked to her apartment so I could retrieve Lexie.

  “You two are still on the same side on the pet issue around here,” I reminded her. “I think he’ll forgive you.”

  Especially when the killer was finally caught.

  As Brody, Lexie, and I left Brigadoon for the day, I said, “There are a few other folks around here I need to try this on.”

  Brody nodded. “So I gathered. Are there any others you’re just hoping to eliminate this way as possible suspects? ”

  “No,” I said. “Now I’m going to have to get down to the people I really think could have killed Margaret.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  MY NEXT TEST of a suspect couldn’t be until late the next afternoon, I learned after making some phone calls.

  Which worked out okay. For one thing, I again had a delightful evening with Dante after ending my petsitting. Brody came to my place, too, and we informed Dante about our visit to James’s.

  Good excuse—since he happened to be there—for Dante to stay the night. He didn’t have Alfonse bring Wagner this time, though, and Lexie acted lonesome. At least I got her a late-evening romp through my ample yard along with Beggar—which gave me a chance to talk with Rachel and her dad, Russ, while Dante egged on the dogs. Fortunately, although it
was chilly, the predicted precipitation had been delayed.

  “We’ve found a place we like, Kendra,” Russ told me solemnly. “We’re going to make an offer on it.”

  “Oh,” I said stupidly. “That’s great.” I tried, unsuccessfully, to interject enthusiasm into my tone. I’d known this day—er, night—was coming.

  Rachel threw her arms around me. “It’s not far from here. I’ll still do whatever you want me to for Critter TLC, LLC. And of course I’ll continue to be the hostess on Animal Auditions as long as you want me.” She hesitated. “Will you be okay without us here?”

  “What an ego!” I exclaimed, clearly jesting. “Of course I will.” But my heartiness didn’t fool her, and she hugged me again.

  When I turned, I saw that Dante had stopped near us on the driveway, the two dogs playing at his feet. His eyes were on me, his expression one of those he gets when he’s in his mysterious former government agent mode—in other words, unreadable.

  Had he heard, and did he feel sorry for me, too? Or was he plotting, in his smart, wealthy mind, how to manipulate things to save my house for me? He’d already worked around me to finance my recently purchased Ford Escape.

  I’d made it clear, when I learned of it, that although I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t want him doing stuff behind my back, even if he thought it was for my own good.

  I hoped my return glare gave him the message to bug off—in the nicest manner, of course.

  Later, when we lay in bed, I half expected him to broach the subject. He didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was glad or sorry. But I knew I was happy to be treated once more to one heck of an enjoyable night.

  I ALWAYS LIKE to take advantage of any information I learn. As a result, I used my tenants’ impending vacating of the main house as an excuse to call my next suspect.