A Candy Cane Cat-astrophe

by Addison Moore

  Opal grunts. “I wish a reindeer would run over Mayor Wright. That man has never been more wrong. This party is the epitome of gaudy.”

  “Opal, that’s the point.”

  King mewls as if he agreed with me, and I offer him a quick pat.

  “The point is”—she hands King over to me, and I gladly take him—“Christmas is an elegant holiday that focuses on family. Which is exactly why I demand to know why you didn’t bring Pixie to the festivities. Her fur alone qualifies her to be here.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Her fur isn’t gaudy, it’s chic. But you’re right, she is family. Great news, though. Shep isn’t here yet. I’ll text him to pick her up on the way over. He said there was a bit of business he had to take care of first.”

  “Ooh.” Her eyes enlarge. They’re ringed in with copious amounts of dark kohl and look like golf balls trapped in a hole. “Could Shepherd be picking up a sparkling bauble in hopes to make you his own for life?”

  “Doubtful. We haven’t talked about the big stuff yet.”

  That vision with Shep and Regina discussing my impending doom comes back to me.

  Hey? Maybe this business he had to take care of is the fact the feds are miking him up as we speak? I’ll have to be careful not to incriminate myself in the event he really is hoping I’ll be the biggest takedown of his career. My heart hurts just thinking about it.

  My Nana Rose’s cookies quickly distract Opal, and so I pull out my phone, hoping to quickly distract myself.

  King touches his paw to the screen, and the Insta Pictures app pops to life.

  “I like where you’re going,” I whisper to the feisty little cat. “All right, let’s see what we’ve got here.” Since Holly’s account has been pretty much frozen as private, I head over to Kaila Clark’s Insta Pictures. I get a kick out of all the pets she showcases. She really does have the most beautiful redheaded golden retrievers I’ve ever seen. There’s a border collie in another shot, and he looks as if he’s jumping in the air about to catch a ball.

  “Aww, look at this one,” I say to King as I point to a black and white cat sitting on the top of a sofa. I’m just about to zoom in on the picture as Tilly and her daughter Jessie step up.

  “Happy holly jolly!” Tilly toasts me with her eggnog while giving a twirl. Both she and her sixteen-year-old mini me have shoulder-length brown hair with matching chunky blonde highlights. Tilly’s sweater has a boudoir-inspired look to it, with its green lace sleeves and scantily clad Mrs. Claus on the front. Jessie has on a tight knit sweater with a red reindeer over the front. It stops at the midriff level, and I can see the goosebumps on her skin, but I won’t say a word.

  I, too, was young and willing to suffer for fashion once. But after a rather eventful round of walking pneumonia one year, I knew my time with boiled wool had arrived.

  Jessie peers over at my phone. “Whatcha looking at?”

  “Just pictures of a friend’s cat.”

  Tilly leans in. “That’s no cat.”

  Jessie points to the screen. “And it looks like your friend has two accounts.” She points to the avatar of a red and white mug up in the corner.

  I’m about to deep dive into this double account issue when Tilly bumps her elbow to mine.

  “Dom’s here. He let me know he was having a hard time picking between Lola and me. And I’m about to make that decision really easy for him.” She sashays in his direction, and I note the ultra-short skirt she’s wearing, paired with red glitter encrusted heels. My money is on Tilly for the win.

  “Hey, Jessie?” I hold the phone out to her. “What do you mean she has two accounts?

  “See that white arrow at the top next to the picture of the mug? It means you can slip over and see her other stuff. Not a lot of people know that. Heck, your friend may not even know that. It’s a new feature they just added in the name of page transparency. It stops people from opening sock puppet accounts and becoming the trolls they truly are.”

  “Interesting.” My mind reels with the possibilities, and King mewls up at me as if he’d like a few answers himself. “How do I see this other account of hers? I mean, I love this one, so I’m just dying to see what she’s got in store for me on that one, too.” Not a total lie.

  “Just click it.” She taps her finger over the mug, and I gasp at what populates on the screen.

  @Hollywright.

  Jessie shrugs. “Sorry. It looks as if it’s private.”

  “But this isn’t Kaila’s account. It’s Holly’s,” I whisper mostly to myself.

  “It probably belongs to her friend. If you give your friend your password, they can post. My friends and I do it all the time.” She gasps at someone out on the dance floor. “Dom Junior is here! And man, is he hot tonight.”

  “Dom has a kid?” I squint at the crowd, and sure enough, the tall, dark-haired thug has a mini me that looks to be about Jessie’s age.

  “Gotta run. And if my mom tries to marry his dad and make things weird, I’m going to have to knife her.” She takes off in a huff as if she were ready to make that promise a reality tonight.

  “Nothing like a little threat by way of sharpened cutlery just in time for Christmas.” I give the tip of King’s ear a kiss.

  A thought hits me.

  Oh God. What if Holly was telling the truth and she didn’t post those lewd messages?

  I look up just as Mayor Wright ho, ho, hos his way over while holding his belly, which really does look as if it’s made out of jelly. He’s donned the same red velvet suit from the night of the tree lighting ceremony, although at the moment his hat sits askew and his curly white beard looks as if a couple of French hens have made a nest in it.

  “Well, well”—his eyes double in size as he spies all of the platters of colorful cookies behind me—“it looks as if Santa better fuel up for the big sleigh ride coming up.”

  “Before you do that.” I link my arm to his and twirl us away from the refreshment table. “Can I ask if Holly ever mentioned that she was having trouble at the library? With Kaila Clark specifically?”

  He thumps his finger to his rosy cheek. “No, Holly and I weren’t what you would say on speaking terms these last few months. But Kaila mentioned something. In fact, it was the night of the tree lighting. As soon as we saw Holly stumbling down the street Kaila said something about loose lips sinking furry ships.” He shrugs and attacks a platter of Nana Rose’s pizzelles.

  I can’t say I blame him. Those happen to be my favorite, too.

  I’m about to take off to hunt down Shep when I darn near walk right through Beauford Wright.

  “Beauford!” I give King a little squeeze because this just might be better than bumping into Shep—in this instance only. “Hey, I was just looking for your girlfriend.”

  He lifts a brow. He’s shaved the stubble from his cheeks and donned a black sweater with a polar bear on it in a feeble attempt in keeping with the theme. Dare I say, he actually cleans up nice.

  “Kaila?” He gives a quick scan of the area with a slight look of surprise on his face.

  “Yeah, Kaila. Your girlfriend. Are the two of you new?”

  He winces as he gives King a quick tickle under his chin.

  “We’re not new. We’ve been going strong for about a year now. But it’s new to the world, I guess. We were keeping it under wraps while Holly was still alive. I had talked to my brother the night of the murder about it, too. I asked him to fix this mess for me. I just wanted Kaila and me to be free. I thought he might have some pull with Holly. She was already giving Kaila so much grief over everything else, we didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

  I think on it a moment. “That makes sense.” But Kaila was still denying it after Holly’s death. Maybe some habits die hard? Or maybe the killer doesn’t want to draw an arrow directly to herself. “What exactly was Holly tormenting her about? I mean, they worked at a library. I can’t imagine a more peaceable environment than that. And Holly was the boss. She was in control of everything.�
��

  He shrugs. “Holly was a pill, is what she was.” He leans in. “She caught on that Kaila and I had the hots for one another way back before Holly and I officially called it quits, so Kaila and I thought it best to deny everything in hopes Holly would move on with her life or Kaila could find another job. Kaila didn’t want to leave the library, but it all worked out in the end. With Holly gone, I think the entire town can breathe easy.”

  He takes off for the refreshment table, slaps his brother on the back, and Santa himself embraces him. It’s touching and sweet, and yet chilling considering those last words he just uttered.

  No wonder Kaila is so insistent on keeping her relationship with Beauford low-key. I wouldn’t want to incur any of Holly’s wrath either. Although if she tried to bully me—the old me would have sent some of my family members over to rearrange her kneecaps. The current me wouldn’t object to the idea either.

  I’m about to text Shep when I spot the very redhead that’s occupying my mind as she stands by the backdoor.

  “Hang on, King,” I say as we make our way over. I thread through the crowd, and about halfway there, Tilly spins me by the wrist and we do a little two-step before I finally manage to get to the other side of the room. “Kaila,” I say brightly. “Do you have a minute?”

  She belts out a cheerful laugh. “I’ve got all night.” Her hair is coiffed to perfection, and her bright rust-colored sweater matches her tresses. “What’s up?”

  I navigate us into the hall, over to a dimly lit corridor with its dark damask wallpaper that stretches out behind us.

  “Kaila”—I pant as I look to this seemingly kindhearted woman—“were you afraid of Holly Wright?”

  “What?” She backs up a notch. “I mean, I wasn’t afraid of her, but I wasn’t exactly looking to find myself in a dark room with her either. What’s this about?”

  “Beauford mentioned that you hid your relationship from Holly because you didn’t want any more trouble from her. And I get it. I’d do my best to stay out of a bully’s way myself.”

  Her crimson lips round out. “Did he say that?” She gives a nervous laugh.

  “You are dating Beauford, right?”

  Her eyes flash with what looks to be anger. “Yes, I’m seeing Beauford. It’s ridiculous of me to hide it now. It’s almost as if I’m afraid of Holly from the grave. When someone threatens you the way she did me, it’s not so easy to turn off the fear they propagated.”

  “Is that why you killed her?”

  She gives a hard blink. “Killed her? I didn’t kill Holly.” She gives an incredulous laugh. “But I was close.” Her chest pulsates with a dry laugh. “That woman was a monster.”

  “Kaila, I know that you have access to Holly’s Insta Pictures account. And I have a feeling it was you who posted those bizarre messages. You can’t deny it. I have proof.” I’m not sure if Jessie Teasdale counts as proof, but she could help me get to the evidence, and that’s enough for now.

  Kaila’s fingers fly to her lips, her eyes growing twice their size.

  “Okay, fine. I posted those messages.” Her breathing becomes erratic as she takes a full step back. “But only because she threatened to turn my life upside down. She was going to have my animals taken away. She was going to start spreading rumors that it was me who broke up Beauford’s marriage. I had to make her look unstable. It wasn’t a far cry from the truth!”

  I shake my head. “She had something else on you.” King lets out an egregiously loud meow, and a thought hits me. “You’re an animal lover. She was threatening to take your pets…”

  She glances toward the ballroom as if plotting her escape, and I shake my head over at her.

  “Kaila, you’re a good person. I’m guessing you don’t abuse your animals. Your dogs are gorgeous and look well-cared for. And you have the cutest little cat. It’s so unusual looking, I’d bet good money it’s related to a fox.” I suck in a sharp breath. “That note I found in your file! Canadian fox! “That’s no black and white cat. It’s a Canadian fox, isn’t it?” King belts out another meow as if congratulating me on putting the killer pieces together—although I’m not feeling the satisfaction I thought I would when bringing down Holly’s killer. “You’re keeping a Canadian fox as a pet, aren’t you?”

  A horrible moaning sound evicts from her. “You can’t tell anybody. I could go to jail for this! Please, just forget about everything you’ve just said. I’d hate for something to happen.”

  That vision I had the night that Shep might have confessed his love for me comes back, and I moan myself.

  “So you didn’t kill Holly Wright?” I ask with a twinge of disappointment in my voice.

  “No.” She shakes her head with an incredulous look on her face. “And you can’t tell anyone about Seymour. He’s my special friend. And not only that, but my dogs all love him.”

  “Believe me, I’m not in a position to rat anyone out, least of all over someone’s beloved pet.” I close my eyes a moment too long. “Then who killed Holly?” I all but shout in the void of the corridor, and my voice comes back to me as an echo.

  “Sorry, Bowie.” Kaila gives King another healthy scratch over his back. “I hope you find your answers.” She takes off just as a black cat slinks by, doing his best to blend in with the shadows, and I recognize that rust-tipped tail and that left eye that remains sealed off to the world. It’s the exact cat who just might have all the answers.

  “Lucky!” I shout, all but startling him into racing right down the hall and straight into the ghostly arms of a certain not-so spooky specter. “Hazel! Perfect timing,” I say, taking a moment to admire the tiny sprays of white miniature stars emanating off of her. Hazel’s crimson locks have a purple tint to them in this dull light, and her skin glows as if she had swallowed the moon. “Hazel, I’ve hit a dead end. You mentioned Carol Bransford was holding Lucky the night of Holly’s murder. Honestly, if I don’t get another lead, I’m going to have to throw in the towel. And believe me, that won’t be easy. I’m stubborn and a little unstable. And that combination has never boded well for me.”

  Hazel holds Lucky up a moment. “Here’s hoping this little guy has a few answers that can turn this case on its ear. Go ahead and put your hand over his back.”

  I do so, and King looks as if he’s struggling to reach out and touch his furry friend as well, so I hold him close so he can do just that.

  “Lucky”—I whisper, and the ebony-colored sweetheart looks right up at me with his single glowing green eye—“that night of the tree lighting, did that woman who picked you up say anything to you?”

  He lets out a solid rawr as if he understood me completely.

  Hazel nods. “Lucky says that Holly mentioned she was cold and needed him to keep her warm.” His tiny furry head twitches as he looks to King as he bleats out another meow. “He says when Holly took him across the street, he was afraid he’d never see the manor again.”

  King mewls over at him, and Lucky nods.

  “Aww,” Hazel coos. “Lucky says, ‘I realize now that King would never let one of us be gone too long before he sent the calvary out looking for us.’” Lucky jerks his head up my way and mewls again. “He says, ‘Thankfully the woman became preoccupied with the bank across the street. She kept standing underneath the sign, then to the left of it, then to the right.’”

  I look to Hazel and shrug. “I’ve got nothing.” I give Lucky a stroke over his back. “Did Holly happen to say anything else at all?”

  His whiskers twitch as he belts out another meow, and Hazel nods.

  “He says, ‘Holly did mention something about doing right by the girls at Alpha Pi.’”

  “‘Doing right by the girls of Alpha Pi…’” A heavy sigh comes from me. “Thanks, Lucky. I appreciate it.”

  No sooner do I say the words than he leaps from Hazel’s arms.

  “Since you’re here.” I hold King her way, and she touches her ghostly hand over his back. “King, I just want to wish you a merry Christ
mas. How are things going in your four-footed world?”

  He lets out a mighty roar, and Hazel offers a warm smile.

  “He says that things are going well, Bowie Binx. Opal is pleased, and that pleases him. He’s never seen her happier than he has with you and your sister around.”

  My lips twist at the thought. “What can I say? Steph adds the naughty, and I add the nice.”

  King rubs his head against my hand and mewls again.

  Hazel chuckles at whatever it is she’s hearing. “He wants to know if there’s any chance of getting a few more discards of Nana Rose’s cookies. He says Mud dropped a few their way, and there have been talks of storming the kitchen in hopes to garner a few more.”

  “Consider them yours. In fact, I’ll bake a cat-friendly batch with no sugar.”

  He swipes his paw my way.

  “Did I say no sugar? I meant low sugar.”

  A shadow darkens the halls, and Hazel gasps before she begins to dissipate right before my eyes.

  “I’ve had about enough of this man.” Her disembodied voice trembles with anger. “Do something. I’d hate to vacate the manor so soon, but he’s giving me no choice.”

  The stalky man with a mustache who was walking around with a vacuum attached to his back pops up. “Pardon me, miss.”

  “No. You pardon me,” I say as I block his path. “I’m the manager here at the manor, and I’m relieving you of your ridiculous duties. We don’t have any ghosts in this dusty, musty, overgrown house, and if we did, we’d like to keep them.” Okay, so I’m not the manager of the entire manor, but some days it feels like it.

  “That’s not for you to decide, little lady.” He takes off, and I scoff in his wake. “See that?” I say to King. “No cookies for him.” I pull my phone out and am just about to text Shep when my fingers start typing Alpha Pi into a search engine instead. I input Carol and Holly’s names as well, and the screen populates with Alpha Pi, Benton University. “That’s right,” I whisper. “Carol said they went to Benton together.” But no smoking gun here. I note the graduation date under Holly’s name and type that in along with the name of the sorority, and something very, very dicey pops up.