Killer Mousse

by Melinda Wells

  Dessert and coffee finished, we cleared the table together.

  I said, “You did such a wonderful job with this house. I’ll bet your neighbors are grateful to you for raising the property values on the street.”

  “Yeah, at first, but then not so much now that tourists drive past real slow, or stop to take pictures.”

  It was a few minutes after nine PM when Lulu walked me out to the driveway beside her little witch’s cottage. As I came near the Mustang, I saw a small shape curled up on the hood. If it hadn’t been for the leaning lamppost at the end of Lulu’s drive, I wouldn’t have seen it.

  “Oh, look, Lulu—there’s a cat on my car.”

  “It’s that poor li’l abandoned girlie comes around every day.”

  “Abandoned?”

  Lulu simultaneously nodded and tsk-tsked. “She used to live up the block, but a few weeks ago the people who owned her moved out—an’ just left her. They musta took her collar off ’cause she wasn’t wearin’ it when Ah saw her sittin’ in their yard next day, waitin’ for them to come back.”

  A surge of fury made my blood feel hot. “I hope somebody abandons those awful people someday and leaves them alone to starve to death!”

  “She stayed in that yard for a few days. Ah brought her food an’ water. A week or so later, she was at my door. Ah keep feedin’ her, but Ah can’t let her in the house ’cause Ah’m allergic. She needs a home.”

  The cat looked up at me and I saw big eyes in a pale gray face. I reached out to pet her. The cat shifted position and rubbed one of her cheeks and the top of her head against my index finger. She started to purr, and I felt something inside me melt.

  “She’s so sweet….”

  Lulu shook her head. “It’s sad. Nobody ’round here seems to want to take her in. Ah know if Ah take her to a shelter they’ll kill her, but that little thing’s gonna be coyote food one night soon. We’ve had such a dry summer an’ fall, the coyotes are startin’ to come down outta the hills. One night they’re gonna catch her an’ rip her to shreds.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “She likes you,” Lulu said. “Why don’ you take her in?”

  “I already have a dog….”

  “Dogs an’ cats can get along real well. All a matter of how you introduce them, and make sure you don’ give one more attention than the other.”

  “I don’t know….” But I was still petting the cat, and she was still purring. I picked her up, and she pressed her head up under my chin. Unexpectedly, I had a cat. I glanced at Lulu and she was grinning.

  “But I don’t have any cat food, or litter, or—”

  “Jus’ wait here,” Lulu said. “Don’ move a muscle.” She sprinted back into her house.

  I stroked the cat and whispered, “Would you like to come home with me and meet Tuffy? He likes cats. He has two cat friends at the veterinarian’s.” The cat kept purring, and I knew there was no way I could leave her here to some horrible fate.

  Lulu rushed back outside and down the driveway, carrying a canvas All Things Crafty tote bag.

  “Put her in this,” Lulu said, spreading open the bag’s wide top. “Ah don’ have cat food—Ah’ve been givin’ her tuna fish. There’s a big Ralphs market on Ventura Boulevard. You’ll have to go right past it on your way back to Beverly Glen Canyon.”

  With Lulu holding the tote bag, I gently lowered the cat into it. She didn’t resist.

  I asked, “What’s her name?”

  “Don’ know. It might have been on her collar, but that was gone.”

  As I said good night to Lulu, I put the tote bag on the front passenger seat and folded the top back enough so that the cat could look out and wouldn’t feel trapped or frightened. She was surprisingly calm. Perhaps some instinct told her she was safe now.

  The supermarket was one that was open twenty-four hours a day, and so big and well lighted that it was impossible to miss. I parked, locked the car, and hurried inside to buy supplies for the newest member of my little household.

  The store wasn’t crowded at this hour. It didn’t take long to fill a cart with bags of unscented litter, a large plastic dish pan to use as a litter box, two dozen cans of the best cat food they sold, a bag of dry food, and a few cat toys. I’d have to buy a proper cat-carrying case for trips to the veterinarian at a pet store; the market didn’t carry those. In a couple of days, when she settled in, I would take her for an examination and for whatever inoculations cats were supposed to have. In my shaky financial situation, I realized that keeping this cat meant giving up the new pair of leather boots I’d planned to buy. That’s life, I thought. We can’t have everything.

  Besides, who really needs boots in Southern California?

  My last purchase was a large bag of Tuffy’s favorite imitation bacon strips. I thought it might be a good idea to give him treats at the same time that I introduced him to our cat.

  20

  As soon as I opened my front door, Eileen hurried in from the back of the house. I knew she’d just come in from an evening jog because she was wearing an old UCLA sweatshirt over faded running shorts. Her fine blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her beautiful face was flushed with healthy color.

  “Aunt Del, there’s something—” She saw movement in the All Things Crafty tote bag on my arm. “What’s that?”

  I put my handbag down, reached into the tote, and lifted the cat out.

  Eileen gasped with delight. “Oh, how adorable! Where did you get him?”

  “Her. She was abandoned near the house where I had dinner tonight. At least I was told she’s a female.” I turned the cat onto her back in my arms to get a look at the relevant part underneath. “Yes, it’s a girl.”

  “I love cats.” Eileen reached out to stroke her gently. The cat responded by purring. I marveled at the animal’s sociability, at her willingness to trust humans. Here she was, with two strangers, away from her neighborhood, just having riden in a tote bag, and now she was in an unfamiliar house, and yet she’d started to purr again. Even though her owners did a horrible thing in leaving her, they must have been kind until then.

  Eileen asked, “What’s her name?”

  “My friend from the TV station didn’t know, and she’s not wearing a collar.”

  The light in the living room was giving me the first good look I’d had at the cat. She was a calico, with longish fur that was a soft, silver gray, with patches of yellow gold and white. All four of her dainty feet were white, as though she had walked through a plate of powdered sugar. Her eyes were large and yellow green.

  “What a pretty face,” Eileen said as she stroked the cat’s fur.

  I agreed. “She’s really lovely.” A name occurred to me. “Let’s call her Emma,” I said. “After my favorite Jane Austen novel.”

  “Hello, Emma,” Eileen said, rubbing the top of the cat’s head with her finger.

  Holding Emma against my chest, I could feel her little bones. She was slim beneath her long coat, but not alarmingly skinny. Apparently, Lulu had fed her well.

  “Her coat’s nice and thick,” Eileen said. “She looks pretty healthy.”

  “I’ll take her to Tuffy’s veterinarian tomorrow or the next day, for an examination and to get her shots. I don’t know if she’s had any, so I have to assume she hasn’t. If she’s old enough, and hasn’t been spayed, then I’ll have him do that after she’s been here for a couple of weeks. For her to be safe, she’s going to be an indoor cat, so we’ll have to be careful when we open the front or the back doors.”

  Eileen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh—Tuffy. He’s outside in the backyard. How do you think he’s going to react to having a cat in the house?”

  “He has two Siamese cat friends at Dr. Marks’s veterinary hospital, and he’s never been scratched. I think the odds are good they’ll be okay together. Before we let him in, could you go out to the car and bring in the supplies I bought for Emma?” I handed Eileen the key to the Mustang. “I’ll put her litter box in my
bathroom, and set up her food and water dishes on that table in the corner of my bedroom, where Tuffy can’t get to them. I’ll clear the photos and magazines off. She can use my room and bath as her sanctuary, until she feels confident enough to explore the house. And Tuffy can continue to have the kitchen for his drinking and dining.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Eileen said.

  As soon as Eileen came back in with the supermarket bags, I handed Emma to her and we went to my bathroom. I placed the big plastic dishpan under the sink, out of the way of foot traffic, and poured in a mound of litter.

  “Put her down, so she can see where her box is,” I said.

  No sooner had the cat’s paws touched the floor than she padded over to the litter box and used her new facilities.

  “Good girl,” Eileen said. “That’s such a good girl.”

  As soon as we’d completed Emma’s new arrangements, I asked Eileen to bring Tuffy into the bedroom.

  When my handsome standard poodle came bounding in to greet me, I was holding Emma in my arms. “Hey, big boy,” I said, “look what I brought home to live with us.”

  Spotting Emma, his long ears arched a little, he drew back, and then moved forward cautiously. Emma squirmed in my arms, but didn’t hiss or scratch to get away. Instead, she pressed herself closer against my chest.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, to bring the two of them closer together, but I was ready to pull back fast if there was trouble.

  While Eileen petted Tuffy and told him what a wonderful boy he was, I freed one hand and offered Tuffy a treat, to associate our new roommate with his favorite goodies.

  Tuffy sniffed at Emma, sniffed at the treat, and then took the imitation bacon strip in his mouth. He ate it while Eileen and I continued to pet the two of them and talk to them gently.

  Emma turned around in my arms to get a better look at Tuffy. She seemed curious, not afraid. Gradually, I moved her closer to Tuffy. They lightly touched noses.

  “Good boy, Tuffy,” I said. “This is our cat.” I gave him another treat. After about twenty minutes of stroking and talking to the two of them, I took Emma over to the table that I’d cleared off, and where Eileen had put down newspapers and dishes of cat food and water. While Tuffy watched, and had another treat, Emma began to eat. I stepped back.

  “I think we did it,” Eileen said.

  I left Emma eating and sat down on the edge of the bed to pet Tuffy.

  “They seem to like each other,” Eileen said. “Or at least not to mind each other.”

  As I watched Emma and scratched Tuffy behind the ears, I asked Eileen, “When I came home—what was it you started to tell me?”

  “Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Momma called. She said she’d like you to come and visit her again, as soon as you can.”

  John’s wife wants to see me.

  For the first time since Shannon’s psychiatrist had put her on the correct medication, I felt a tiny shiver of apprehension. Or was it a twinge of guilt?

  “I’ll call her first thing tomorrow morning,” I said.

  I made myself wake up several times during the night to turn on the bedside lamp and check on the pets. Tuffy was sleeping in his usual place next to me, and Emma was curled up on top of the cabinet that enclosed the television set.

  At six thirty A.M. I awoke to start the day. It was a happy surprise to find that after the last time I looked at them, Emma had moved over to sleep in the space between the top of my head and the headboard.

  Tuffy opened his eyes and saw where Emma was. He just sighed, and went back to sleep. I gave a sigh myself. Of relief. With Tuffy’s naturally sweet disposition, and Emma’s apparent lack of fear of him, I was positive that the two of them would coexist peacefully and keep each other company when I had to be out of the house.

  Remembering the message Eileen gave me, I intended to call Shannon as soon as I fed Tuffy and Emma and gave them fresh water, and let Tuffy out into the backyard for a few minutes.

  Then I promised myself I’d call Shannon as soon as Eileen and I finished breakfast.

  After breakfast, brushing my teeth, I vowed to call Shannon the moment I finished showering and got dressed. Well, I’d call her no later than after I gave Tuffy his usual morning walk around the neighborhood. If I called her too early, I might wake her up.

  Brushed, showered, and dressed, I was putting on my shoes when the doorbell rang.

  Eileen called out, “I’ll get it!”

  She was back and at my bedroom door in well under a minute.

  “Daddy’s here,” she said. “That Detective Hall is with him. Aunt Del, from the way they’re acting, I think something bad has happened.”

  21

  Eileen followed me into the living room, looking worried. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”

  John said, “We need to speak to Della alone, honey.” His tone was soft, but the expression on his face was grim.

  “I’ll tell you all about whatever it is, later,” I told Eileen. “Right now, would you do me a favor and please walk Tuffy? Go out through the backyard gate.”

  “Okay.” She retreated into the kitchen, but she wasn’t happy about it.

  As soon as the three of us were alone, Detective Hall demanded, “Where were you last night?”

  “I don’t like your storm trooper manner, and I’m not going to be treated like a criminal. Why do you want to know?”

  Towering over both Hall and me, John assumed what Mack used to call his nonthreatening “gentle giant” persona and said, “Your Mustang was seen in a driveway on Fulton Street last evening. Were you visiting someone?”

  “You don’t have to be so roundabout with me, John. Yes, I had dinner with a colleague from the TV studio, Lulu Owens.” A ball of ice began forming in the pit of my stomach. I was getting a terrible premonition. “What’s happened?”

  “I’ll ask the—”

  John cut Hall off. “Ms. Owens died last night.”

  “Oh, no! How did—?”

  “She was murdered,” Hall said.

  I gasped. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What can you tell us?” John asked.

  My knees felt weak. I sank down on the nearest chair. John sat down on the edge of the couch opposite me. After a moment, Hall took a seat, too, but he leaned toward me, as though ready to leap up and grab me if I tried to run away.

  Wanting to be helpful, I took a calming breath and mentally re-created the evening. “Lulu invited me to have dinner with her last night, at her house. I got there at six thirty, and left about nine o’clock.” I stared at Hall. “You said she was murdered? When did it happen? And how?”

  Hall was tight-lipped, but John said, “We should tell her. Della might have seen something that would help us.”

  We? Us?

  John must have read the question in my eyes because he said, “I’ve been temporarily detached from the Intel Squad to work with Detective Hall. Two hosts from the same TV network killed in less than a week makes this a high-profile case.”

  “We don’t have the medical examiner’s report yet,” Hall told me, “but his preliminary guesstimate of time of death, based on liver temp, is between nine and eleven P.M. When did you get home?”

  “About ten thirty.” I looked at John. “Eileen was here.”

  “At nine o’clock at night, it wouldn’t take more than twenty or twenty-five minutes to drive from the victim’s house to here. That leaves at least half an hour unaccounted for. What were you doing during that time? And don’t try to tell me you were stuck behind a traffic accident because I can check that out.”

  Biting back a hot reply, I ignored his crack and explained about finding the cat on the hood of my car, and Lulu persuading me to adopt it. “I wasn’t prepared for a cat, so I stopped at the Ralphs market on Ventura Boulevard, a few blocks east of Beverly Glen Canyon, and bought what I needed for her. The checkout woman might remember me. I told her about unexpectedly acquiring a cat, and she said that she has two.” I concentrated
hard on trying to remember details about her. “She’s in her late thirties, has dark, curly hair. I think her name tag said ‘Mercedes.’ I’m sure I have my receipt for the purchases.”

  “I’ll want it,” Hall said.

  “Did you notice anyone around when you left her house?” John asked. “Walking, or driving by? Anything, even though it might have seemed insignificant at the time.”

  I shook my head. “I was excited about the cat and making a mental list of what I had to buy before I brought her home, but still I think I would have noticed someone walking, or anything that seemed suspicious. The street was quiet.”

  “The way it looks,” Hall said, “you’re the last person to have been with the victim.”

  “I don’t care how it looks, Detective. I didn’t kill her, so, obviously, someone else was there after I left Lulu’s.”

  Hall stood up. “Let’s talk about this at the station.”

  John and I stood up, too.

  “Are you arresting me, Detective Hall?”

  “Let’s say I’m inviting you to talk about this in a formal setting.”

  I gave silent thanks that I knew all of my rights. “That’s an invitation I’m not going to accept, unless you tell me more about what happened to Lulu. How did she die?”

  “She was stabbed to death,” Hall said. “In the back. No chance to fight her attacker off.”

  The image of Lulu being murdered was horrible, but I willed myself to control my reactions, and to think. “What about fingerprints?”

  “SID is processing the house,” John said, “but Ms. Owens wasn’t murdered inside her home. She was killed outdoors.”

  “Outdoors? Just before I drove away with the cat, Lulu went back in. I saw her close the door behind her.”

  Hall was staring at me with an expression of “so you say” skepticism.