Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books!

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Stepped on a rock,” I said. “No biggie.”

  “This calls for Ted Drewes,” Detweiler said.

  Just that fast, I told Anya to get in the car. I even tossed her the keys so she could turn on the A/C.

  “Are you sure?” I couldn’t believe this was the same man who’d phoned to warn me about his wife spying on us.

  He leaned close so only I could hear. “Got another call. She decided to drive to Chicago to visit an old friend.”

  “I’m not into sneaking around,” I said with my eyes darting over to Anya. She was on her phone, oblivious to our conversation.

  Detweiler shook his head. “I was wrong to call you. I need to man up and remind Brenda that I have a job to do. As long as your husband’s killer is on the loose, you are a part of my job.”

  He paused to rub the back of his neck. “Like I told you before, you and I need to talk. My situation is complicated. It’s not what it seems and—”

  His phone rang. He waved a “one minute” finger at me, stepped away, and came back. “That was Stan. He’s got new information. I asked him to meet us at Ted Drewes.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “I am not going to be a party to—”

  “Too late,” Detweiler said. “Thanks to your late husband and your cat hoarding pal, you already are.”

  Hadcho joined us at the frozen custard stand.

  I had my customary Terramizzou, and Anya ordered a “Dottie,” named for Mrs. Drewes, and a mix of chocolate, mint and macadamia nuts. The guys ordered a Strawberry Shortcake (Hadcho) and a Southern Delight of praline pieces and butterscotch (Detweiler). Leaning against our vehicles, we stood in the busy parking lot, under the street lights, and enjoyed our treats.

  As soon as we finished and Anya was back in the car, Hadcho gestured to Detweiler and me. “We’re going to need your kitchen table, Mrs. Lowenstein. I’ve mapped out our cold cases involving those missing women. There has to be a pattern, but it might take a woman’s eyes to see it. It might have something to do with where all of them shop. Are you game?”

  “You could be helping us save someone’s life,” Detweiler added.

  Call me gullible. “Sure.”

  I led the way to my house, driving through dark city streets in my old and battered BMW convertible. Anya was thrilled to have scored the winning point and after being refreshed by the frozen custard, she chatted non-stop. Usually we referred to her participation in sports as “character building,” because her teams lost so often. I couldn’t blame her for making the most of her triumph.

  Out of the blue, my daughter said, “I can’t wait to tell Gracie that I scored the winning goal!” It was unusual for us not to have a dog in the car, and we both felt our four-legged friend’s absence. Gracie had become my guardian, my sounding board, and my best friend. Obviously, Anya felt the same.

  As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed Rebekkah had left the porch lights on. I made a mental note to thank her for being so thoughtful.

  That impulse didn’t last long because Gracie galloped up out of the darkness to greet me.

  “What? You aren’t supposed to be running around,” I said as Petunia raced up beside Gracie. “Anya? Help me. Grab Petunia. I’ve got Gracie.”

  “Mom? What are they doing running around? You said Rebekkah was dogsitting. They could have gotten hit by cars or stolen.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “If they’re outside, where’s Martin?” Anya’s voice was high and shrill.

  “I don’t know. There has to be an explanation. He’s probably inside. Just hang onto Petunia while I unlock the house.”

  But Detweiler had already pulled up and parked on the street. Spotting him, Gracie jerked out of my hand and ran toward the detective. “What happened here?” Detweiler called out to me.

  Hadcho pulled up and parked behind Detweiler.

  “Beats me. Rebekkah offered to take care of the animals,” I said as I fumbled with my keys. “She and I will have a talk tomorrow.”

  Detweiler took Gracie by the collar, and since she loves him best of all the humans on earth, she happily pranced alongside of him, looking very, very pleased with herself that she nabbed the tall guy. Hadcho trotted past them and reached the back door first to hold it open for Anya who was struggling under Petunia’s squirming weight. The knob turned easily in his hand.

  Hadcho’s face was illuminated by the yellow bulb in the security light over my back steps. “Stop right there. If the door is open—”

  “You can’t walk in. Someone might have broken into the house,” finished Anya.

  “Good girl,” said Detweiler.

  “Unless of course, you are with two cops.” Anya grinned under the security light.

  “Even then. You all wait here. I’ll check and clear the house,” said Hadcho.

  I stood there in my back yard and tried not to feel grumpy. “Thanks a lot, Rebekkah,” I mumbled.

  The temperature had dropped with the sun. I was tired and worn out and I wanted nothing more than my second hot shower of the day. Instead, I had to stand here and wait. The comforts of my home were tantalizingly within reach. Mosquitos began dive-bombing me. Anya slapped at one on her forearm. When Hadcho didn’t come back right away, Detweiler handed Gracie over to me.

  “Stay here.” He disappeared inside my house.

  “This is silly.” Anya leaned against the side of our house, which was a converted garage on the grounds of Leighton Haversham’s large Webster Groves estate. Really, Leighton’d done a wonderful job of remodeling the place. At the time, he planned to use “my” house as a writing studio, but after a few abortive attempts to write here, he decided to remodel a small space in his attic. “I know it seems foolish, but in that tiny space, my imagination supplies the scenery. Up there, I don’t have distractions. I actually get more writing done.”

  I wondered how Leighton’s book tour was going. I shivered and waited. Anya smacked at another mosquito.

  “They smell my sweat,” she said.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed.

  Detweiler stepped out the back door. “You both need to get back in your car. Drive to Sheila’s house.”

  “Why?” I did not want to put up with my mother-in-law tonight.

  “Trust me.” His eyes told me not to ask anything more.

  “But we can’t leave without Martin,” wailed Anya.

  “Martin?” Detweiler looked confused.

  “The kitten!” I could scarcely say the words.

  “Right, right, right. You go. I’ll find him.”

  I nodded, took Anya by her free hand and started for the car.

  Detweiler yelled to me, “Stan and I’ll be by later, when we know more.”

  40

  Wednesday evening…

  Sheila and Police Chief Robbie Holmes were on their way to see a foreign film over at the Frontenac theatre. I called her. She said they’d be back late. I asked if we could spend the night.

  “Problem?”

  “A small one. Enjoy your evening. We can talk when you get home.”

  Anya cried all the way to her grandmother’s house while I did my best not to join her. She was sure something awful had happened to Martin.

  I was, too, but I pointed out to her, “You know if Gracie was loose, she wouldn’t let anyone in our house, honey.”

  “What about Martin?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure where Rebekkah would have put the cat carrier. I mean, if she put it on the kitchen table, someone would have had to get past Gracie—and that’s not likely. See?”

  “Can you call her and ask?”

  “Sure.” But Rebekkah didn’t answer her phone. That figured.

  “I’ll keep trying to get a hold of Rebekkah,” I told my daughter.

  Anya showered and went to bed in the room that Sheila had decorated especially for her. Both dogs were upset by her sobbing, so they piled on top of her and licked away her tears.

  When I checked on her later, you could barely se
e the top of Anya’s platinum blonde head. It was nestled between Gracie’s black and white muzzle and Petunia’s brown and black smashed in pug face. In the sliver of light from the hall, I also noticed that my child had one arm around each pooch.

  I hoped I’d have better news for her when she woke up.

  Detweiler showed up an hour and a half later. Hadcho was right behind him. After they parked their cars, I heard their doors slam almost in tandem.

  I opened Sheila’s front door with my heart in my mouth, prepared for the worst possible news. All sorts of scenarios raced through my mind. None of them pretty. I stood with one hand on the doorframe and thought to myself, “It’s all my fault.”

  I loved Martin. True, I hadn’t owned him for long, but he’d forged a new bond between Rebekkah and me. He’d brought happiness with him, even though he was a lot of work. I admired his spunk. Since I’d been feeding and mothering him, I felt a pang of grief much deeper than there should have been, considering how briefly I’d known him.

  But if he was gone forever, I’d survive and so would Anya.

  I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and stepped aside to let the two detectives in.

  41

  “Thank goodness.” I reached inside the cardboard carrier while Detweiler held it open for me. I cuddled the tiny kitten as I made myself comfortable on one of Sheila’s kitchen chairs. “Poor little Martin. Everyone ran off and left you, huh?”

  “I think he’ll forgive you.” Detweiler chuckled as he pulled over his own chair. “Martin’s carrier was sitting there, undisturbed in your bedroom. As for the dogs pulling a Houdini, I suspect that Rebekkah didn’t get the latch hooked on Gracie’s cage.”

  “Rebekkah does have a habit of being inattentive to details,” I admitted.

  “When that creep broke into the kitchen, your Great Dane must have pushed open the crate door.” Hadcho sipped his coffee. The smell of the hazelnut brew lingered in the air, a warm and delightful aroma. Because Sheila loved good coffee, and Robbie was also a connoisseur, I knew exactly where they kept a package of ground beans from Kaldi’s. I’d put on a pot as soon as I heard that Martin was all right. I knew both the cops would drink a cup or two.

  “Maybe Rebekkah put Petunia inside the crate with Gracie. She probably thought it would calm Tunie down. That would mean both dogs burst out at the same time. Neither of them are barkers, so it’s possible that the intruder didn’t realize what waited for him or her,” I said.

  “Imagine his surprise. Suddenly he has this huge dog chasing him, with a smaller dog tagging along behind. I imagine that little pug feels pretty brave when he’s with Gracie.” Detweiler smiled at me, a look that put butterflies in my tummy. The sensation stirred me to action. I got to my feet to warm up Martin’s formula.

  “Thank goodness, Martin is all right.” I tested the formula on the inside of my wrist.

  Hadcho drained the last of his cup. “More?”

  “Yes, help yourself,” I said. I probably should have gotten up and poured it for him, but I was too worn out.

  “Any idea who did it? And how he or she got into my house?”

  “You said it yourself, Rebekkah probably wasn’t careful enough when she locked up,” said Detweiler. “There were no signs of forced entry. Maybe your intruder saw Rebekkah pull up and drive away. I checked and from a parking spot on the street, you wouldn’t be able to see someone getting in and out of a car. Those stupid spirea bushes block the view. Someone watching wouldn’t know that Rebekkah was unloading animals. Especially since Petunia and Gracie are both so quiet.”

  “How bad is the damage to my house?” Now that the animals were fine, I could take whatever came next.

  “There’s excrement smeared on two of your walls.”

  Not so bad. It could have been worse. “Whew.”

  “Whew is right,” said Hadcho. “What a stink.”

  “Fortunately, I think your intruder was interrupted before he or she could do any major mischief,” said Detweiler.

  I said nothing. I wondered if this was his wife’s work. I hated to ask because I saw no reason to make him feel bad.

  Detweiler guessed exactly what I was thinking. “Brenda was out shopping with my sister. My mother told me as much.”

  “Who might have broken in?” Hadcho raised an eyebrow at me.

  “How should I know?”

  Hadcho shook his head and withdrew his notebook from the pocket of his navy blue jacket. “I took the liberty of calling your pal Mert and asking her to come clean your house tomorrow. You don’t need to see that mess. Your renter’s insurance should cover it, and seeing it’ll just upset you. She told me that two members of Marla Lever’s family threatened you yesterday. I’d like to hear about it from you. Not secondhand.”

  I told them about the visit from Allen Lever and Devon Timmons.

  “Both men seem to blame me for calling the authorities.”

  “Could either of them have done this?” Detweiler asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Someone also knocked into me tonight after the field hockey game and called me a ‘slut.’”

  “Is that what happened? You said you stumbled.”

  “I stumbled after I’d been pushed.”

  Detweiler closed his eyes. I could see the muscle along his jawline flickering. That happened when he got mad. “This has to stop.”

  “I don’t think that the person at the game is the one broke into my house. CALA parents don’t do stuff like that. It’s beneath them. I mention what happened because, it could have been anyone, couldn’t it?”

  Hadcho smiled. “You seem to have a talent for getting in the middle of tough situations. But my money’s on one of the yoyos who visited you at work yesterday. Mert Chambers thinks they’re both a couple of idiots.”

  The front door opened and we heard voices. Sheila and Robbie Holmes were home.

  42

  Since the two cops had downed enough coffee to keep Seattle sleepless all night, and I was still shook up over my pets, I needed a distraction. I suggested that we brainstorm the cold case file that Hadcho and Detweiler were tackling.

  “No dice, young lady. You’re a civilian,” Robbie said right away. He and Sheila were old sweethearts from their high school days, and gradually I’d come to know the Chief of Police. A nice man. A bit stiff sometimes. Protective. And he melted whenever Sheila spoke to him.

  “It’s more important that we make sure that neither Allen Lever nor Devon Timmons was behind the vandalism tonight,” Detweiler said. “We still don’t know if anyone in Mrs. Lever’s family was involved with the corpse we found at her house.”

  He turned to me and asked, “When is your landlord coming back to town?”

  “Next week. Monday or Tuesday.”

  “Sweetie, can Kiki stay here until then?” Robbie asked Sheila.

  “Of course she can. She and her menagerie.” My mother-in-law, aka Ice Queen, positively glowed when Robbie talked to her, making the denim blue of her eyes more vivid in contrast to her snow white hair.

  “Sorry about that,” I said with a shrug.

  “It’s okay,” said Sheila. “This little one isn’t much trouble.”

  “Now that I’m taken care of, could I say something? I have an idea.”

  They turned to me expectantly.

  “I know that the corpse at Marla’s house piqued your interest because of the women who’ve gone missing here in St. Louis. It must be hard to find a common thread. Why not color code certain themes?” I explained how Anya’s fourth grade teacher taught the kids to use a pink highlighter to code dates, a green highlighter for places, a blue highlighter for names, and so on.

  “Would that help? Maybe a connection would jump out at you.”

  Robbie’s glance toward Detweiler was anything but warm and fuzzy.

  “I mentioned the case to Kiki, because I’m worried about her spending so much time at Marla Lever’s house,” Detweiler said. “Tonight proves that my concer
n was justified.”

  “I always tell my officers to trust their guts, Chad, so I suppose I’ve walked right into this one. That said, Kiki, you cannot share anything you’ve learned about that cold case. Not with anyone, understood?”

  “I doubt that I know anything that hasn’t been made public.”

  “There have to be common denominators,” Detweiler said. “No serial killer could get away with grabbing these women unless he happened on a method that worked. That’s simple logic.”

  Robbie stared at me and then at Detweiler for an uncomfortably long spell. Finally, he said, “Kiki, you’re right. I am worried that the woman found on Mrs. Lever’s property was the victim of our cold case perp. Chad has a point. You do need to be extra careful. That mess at your house might have been a warning from a murderer who’s getting bolder with each kill. Whatever you do, don’t go to the Lever home alone. Or back to your house without an escort.”

  “I won’t,” I said. Suddenly everything caught up with me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had it. I’m going to bed.”

  43

  Early Thursday morning…

  I did a double-take at the sight of Robbie Holmes in an apron puttering around Sheila’s kitchen. Fortunately, I keep a spare set of clothes at my mother-in-law’s house. Otherwise I might have trooped downstairs wearing nothing but a tee shirt and panties. That would have been embarrassing for both the top cop and me.

  “My meeting was at six and over quickly,” he said, in a total non sequitur as the tips of his ears turned pink. “We’ve got a company installing a whole new wiring system at the police department. I figured I might as well work from here.”

  He must have felt weird, too, or he wouldn’t have volunteered so much information. I had no doubt that he’d stayed overnight, but it wasn’t any of my business. He and Sheila were both widowed; they were free to carry on as they wished.

  “Were the colored pens helpful?” I asked to cover how awkward I felt.