by Sonia Parin
Luna wove through Lexie’s legs. Blackwell didn’t follow. Instead, he leaped ahead and strutted his stuff lowering his head and slowing his pace into a cat on the prowl saunter.
I think he likes you.
Shut up.
Hey, manners.
Shut up. He gives me the creeps.
Are you sure it’s him and not his owner?
Luna looked up at her.
Owner? We should talk about that. Clear the air before it becomes toxic with ideas of master and servant. My mother didn’t bring me up to go into servitude.
“Interesting cat you have there. Where did you get her from?” the redhead asked.
“Luna was the runt of the litter. No one wanted her, so I took pity on her.” Luna swatted her tail against her leg. “To tell you the truth, I’m not much of a cat person but we have this strange tradition in our family. We all have to have a cat.”
Everyone seemed to know where they were headed, so Lexie followed.
“I should introduce myself before everyone stakes a claim on you. I’m Eloise Fitzpatrick.”
“Lovely to meet you, Eloise. I’m Alexandra Mackenzie.” Lexie had no trouble smiling at her. She had a husky voice, the complete opposite to the one she’d heard in the bedroom.
“There’s something intriguing about Luna. I can’t quite put my finger on it... but I will. I always do.”
Was she some kind of cat whisperer? “Who’s your companion?” Lexie asked pointing at a white tabby.
“Angelina. She’s developed a nasty habit of purring at night.” Snoring, she mouthed. “I hope the others don’t shun her. They can be quite cruel and snobbish.”
Blackwell gave Luna a friendly flick of his tail, which sent her scurrying on ahead.
Touchy. What was up with her? Talk about taking an instant dislike to someone.
They strode into the conservatory. Lexie gazed up at the glass structure, high enough to accommodate a palm tree.
As predicted everyone approached Lexie with the intention of introducing themselves and their cats.
Lexie braced herself in readiness to hear the killer’s voice. It had to be someone in this group. There were a couple of dozen women and as many men.
A couple of dozen women... plus one, Lexie thought as a man dressed as a woman approached her.
“This is the famous Luna. I’ve been wanting to meet her for so long.”
He had a sultry voice with a slight raspy edge. It sounded familiar but she wasn’t prepared to commit just yet.
“Where... where exactly did you hear about her?”
The man... Ramona... gave a wave of her... his hand. “Oh, somewhere, everywhere. I don’t recall exactly. She has such a lovely face. And those beautiful Audrey Hepburn eyes. She makes me think of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
Huh?
Miss Hepburn gazed up at her and blinked.
Don’t let it go to your head.
“I’m hoping she and my Maurice will hit it off.”
Not likely. He has a fishy smell.
Don’t be a snob. He’s probably just eaten.
One by one, they introduced themselves. Or rather, they introduced their cats to Luna.
I’m starting to feel like your pimp here.
Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s a feline soiree.
And yet I have this urge to accessorize you with a pole and a red light.
Grayson approached carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Lexie accepted a glass but didn’t drink. The last time a butler had offered her drinks, she’d fallen under a spell and had broken into song...
A woman sprawled across a chaise lounge raised a glass to her.
Lexie smiled and pretended to take a sip. So far, she hadn’t heard anyone who sounded like the woman who’d spoken in Lord Bradbury’s bedroom. She mentally rolled up her sleeves and strode over only to stop when Luna pawed her foot.
Where are you going? Luna asked.
I’m trying to mingle. You should too. This is your thing.
Everyone’s eyeing me like I’m a tasty morsel, Luna purred.
Maybe that’s what this whole thing is about. They’ve chosen you as their sacrifice and will roast you as an offering to the cat god.
Don’t kid about those things.
You’re a cat. If someone bothers you, show them your claws.
That would be bad form. I have a reputation to uphold. A family lineage to represent.
Then stick close to me.
Lexie introduced herself to the woman on the chaise lounge who made a point of introducing her cat first, Nigel. Henrietta Langton spoke in a high-pitched tone so Lexie decided to strike her off the list of suspects.
“Are we all here?” she asked.
“Not quite. Lucinda Carmichael’s cat had a late grooming appointment. She shouldn’t be too long.”
She noticed Luna sitting in companionable silence with Nigel. Like strangers on a train, they weren’t paying any attention to each other but appeared to be content to sit close together.
So far, no one had mentioned anything about being questioned by the police. Dante had said everyone had been asked to remain in the house. So she assumed they had all been told about the body.
As if on cue, Dante O’Rourke strode into the conservatory, the policewoman following a few steps behind him.
“I wonder who’s turn it is?” Henrietta asked and took a sip of her drink.
“You don’t seem bothered.”
Henrietta shrugged. “Some things are quite predictable. Stewart’s behavior was bound to land him in trouble.”
Stewart. The dead man?
“Here comes our host.”
Everyone’s gaze moved toward Lord Bradbury. A tall man in his fifties dressed in a burgundy velvet jacket with a marine blue cravat arranged in a flamboyant knot. He wore military style black trousers with a red stripe down the sides and velvet slippers with gold embroidery. He held a white Persian, which he stroked lovingly.
“I’m sure by now you would all have heard the news about my brother, Stewart—” he paused and appeared to be searching for the right words. Shrugging, he turned to Dante O’Rourke. “You have the floor.”
Dante thanked everyone for their patience and cooperation, adding that they would do their best to cause minimal disruption to the event. He then signaled Ramon/Ramona to join him. His cat, Maurice, remained behind and after a brief survey of the room, made its way over to sit with Luna and Nigel.
He still smells, Luna purred.
Play nice.
“So who do you think killed him?” Lexie asked.
“You’re very forthright,” Henrietta mused and patted the chair next to her. “Sit. I wish to be amused.”
Lexie expected the conversation in the room to focus on Stewart but everyone seemed intent on getting on with the business of pampering their cats.
“Did he have any enemies?”
Henrietta laughed. “Stewart was a lover.”
“So is that a yes?” Had he been indiscreet once too often?
“It’s quite possible one of the husbands decided to put an end to his amorous philandering but he was really doing them all a favor.”
“A favor? Like a service?”
“Yes.”
If not a jealous husband then... could one of the women have taken exception to his philandering?
“It’s all about discretion, dear,” Henrietta said. “Maybe he got careless.”
The woman Lexie had heard in the bedroom had used those exact words. But Henrietta had a high-pitched tone and the woman had spoken in a soft... almost sultry voice.
“Have the police spoken with you?”
“Yes, and I told them my memory is a bit shaky so they’ll have to speak with me again.” Henrietta gave her an impish smile. “That detective is seriously yummy.”
Lexie wondered how she could find out if Henrietta had been Stewart’s lover. Deciding she’d already been labeled forthright, she asked, “Did you have an affair with
Stewart?”
“Of course. Everyone here had an affair with him.”
Really? She couldn’t remember finding Stewart particularly attractive. There had been something effeminate about him. Delicate. Pale.
“He was a charming man and always knew exactly what to say to a woman and when to say it.”
Lexie tapped her chin.
“What are you thinking?” Henrietta asked.
“That everyone here is a suspect.”
“Including you?”
“Me? I didn’t know him.”
“A killer without a cause. Perfect alibi.”
Lexie gave a slow shake of her head. “No, I was invited and I only found out I was coming a couple of days ago.”
The police officer appeared at the door and made eye contact with Henrietta.
“Oh, my turn again. How do I look?”
For a woman in her fifties, Lexie had to admit she looked fantastic. She couldn’t see a wrinkle in sight in her creamy smooth skin. She had bright eyes and a ready smile that spoke of... readiness.
“Break a leg.”
“Thank you. Be an angel and mind Nigel for me, please.”
Lexie nodded and took a sip of her champagne.
Drinking on the job, Luna purred.
Quit judging me.
Snappy temper.
When was your last visit to the vet? Have you had your shots?
“Mind if I join you?”
Lexie smiled up at Eloise Fitzpatrick. Instead of taking Henrietta’s vacant seat, the redhead pulled up a chair and set her white tabby on her lap.
“Angelina’s been eyeing your Luna. I think she wants to be friends.” Her tinkling laugh lingered like soap bubbles.
Lexie noticed she didn’t release Angelina or stop her gentle stroking.
“Luna seems to be quite the social butterfly.”
Another cat had joined Luna, settling down on the floor beneath her. Her adoring fans, Lexie thought.
She looked around the room. “No one seems upset over Stewart’s death,” Lexie baited.
“Why would they be? He lived, he loved and laughed and then he died.”
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about the circumstances of his death?”
Eloise looked at her, her expression vacant. “We don’t really get to choose how we go, but let’s face it, most deaths lack originality. Heart attack. Car accident. Short illness. Long illness. Stroke. Death by apple seems quite intriguing.”
She had a point.
Grayson appeared carrying a tray of refills. Lexie decided she’d already fallen off the wagon so she might as well indulge for the duration of her stay.
A woman strode right up to Luna and set her Burmese cat down between her and Nigel. Then she turned to Lexie.
“How do you? I’m Lucinda Carmichael.”
The petite blonde gave her a brilliant smile. Lexie half expected her to shove Eloise Fitzpatrick out of the way so that she could take her place but instead she signaled to Grayson who promptly appeared with a chair.
“How is Luna enjoying her stay at Chelsea Manor?”
“We haven’t really had a chance to form opinions. There’s been so much going on. Stewart’s death—”
“Yes, yes. He’s no longer here. Only the living matter.”
Lexie’s eyebrows sprung up. Not in judgment but rather in surprise and perhaps a little admiration. Not everyone could speak their mind without suffering the consequences.
“Don’t get me wrong. I loved Stewart, but he had his fun. And so did we.” She winked. “I see my Duke is quite taken with Luna. He’s mesmerized. There’s definitely something special about her.” Lucinda shifted to the edge of her chair. “Would you... would you be prepared to part with her?”
Luna’s ears pricked up.
“For the right price, I’d be willing to consider it, but Luna would never forgive me.”
“Have you had her long?”
“Not really.”
“I have a house in the Hamptons courtesy of my second husband, bless his soul. It would be lovely if Luna could visit. Or if you’re in England at any time, my estate is not far from here.”
She could cash in on this. Lexie pictured summer vacations in the Hamptons and cozy winter getaways to a splendid country manor.
People’s interest in Luna took her attention away from Stewart’s death. She didn’t know much about cats, but she suspected no one would want to cross breed their pets. So far, she hadn’t seen any cats that looked the slightest bit like Luna. What was it about her they found so intriguing?
A wave of murmurs made its way around the conservatory.
“Cocktails at seven,” she heard someone near her say. One by one, everyone collected their cat and disappeared.
“I didn’t realize there was a schedule.”
“Oh, yes. Lord Bradbury knows how to entertain. We’ll chat more during cocktails,” Lucinda said.
Lexie looked around her to see if she could catch anyone’s attention so she could ask a few more questions. Unfortunately, the only one lagging behind was Henry Stuyvesant who waited for her by the door.
“Luna looked quite regal and I see she’s already formed an entourage. My Blackwell is quite jealous. I hope he’ll have better luck at dinner time.”
Not if she could help it.
Lexie slipped out of her cute ensemble and stretched out on the bed for a rest before cocktails. Back home, she’d be getting ready for her shift at the bar. She hadn’t sat down with her cousins yet for a heart to heart conversation but she wouldn’t mind knowing if these types of responsibilities were the exception or the norm. In which case, she’d have to do some serious negotiating with Jonathan. He might be her guardian, whatever that implied, but he still remained her boss, and most importantly, she still needed to earn a living. Although the girls had said she could tap into her inheritance. Something else she needed to discuss, as she had no idea how to go about doing that.
“While you spruce yourself up I’m going to check on mom. I want to be able to recognize my apartment when I return,” she told Luna.
Mom?
Lexie. Where the hell have you been?
Jonathan?
Yes. Me. You have to talk to your mother.
What’s going on?
She’s put a spell on me.
Lexie burst out laughing as the tunes of the song filled her head. Jonathan hated singing as much as she did.
Hang on. What do you mean she put a spell on you? Is my mom hitting on you? Lexie asked.
No. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jonathan said. She’s turned me into a domestic goddess. I’m doing the washing and ironing for you.
Oh, thanks. I never did get around to doing it. It’ll be nice to go home to a neat pile of freshly laundered clothes. Don’t put a crease on my jeans, please. That makes them look dorky.
Are you kidding me? Hang on a sec.
What are you doing?
Checking the iron. It’s too hot for your underwear.
Lexie growled. “Jonathan. Put the iron down, right now. Walk away.”
“That’s just it. I can’t... hey... did you just put me on stereo?”
She had no idea what she’d just done. The switch happened so quickly. If she had to do it on purpose she’d have no idea how to go about doing it.
“Where’s my mom?”
“She had to go back to Saratoga Springs. Said something about opening night.”
“It must be one of her plays. Did she say when she’d be back?”
“No. Meanwhile I’m stuck here. Every time I try to break free... I break into a song.”
“Which one?”
“Queen. I want to break free. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Your mother is famous for booby trapping her spells.”
Lexie ran the lyrics through her mind. Half way through, she felt a rush of heat splashing her cheeks.
“Did she make you dress up as Freddy Mercury dressed in women’s clothes... No. Don’t
answer that.”
“She tried to,” Jonathan hollered. “But I couldn’t fit into any of your clothes.”
“Argh! When I get back you and I need to talk. You’re going to tell me what’s going on between Morg and you.”
“That’s between her and me.”
“And yet it somehow affects me too. It has to stop. Right now. Jonathan. Put the iron down and walk to the door.”
He sang the first couple of lines. She could tell he was trying to stop but the words seemed to spill out of him.
“Jonathan. Stop it.”
“Hang on, I think I’m breaking free. My hand is on the doorknob... Nope, here I go again.” He picked up where he’d left off. This time, the words rushed out of him as if on fast-forward.
“Jonathan. Back away from the door. I’ll try to get a hold of Morg and get back to you. Oh, by the way, I met your friend, Dante O’Rourke.” She heard him grumbling under his breath.
He finished the song and sighed. “How is he?”
“I only met him briefly. He looks good.”
“Hang on. Why did he contact you? I only mentioned you were over there and he should keep his ear to the ground in case you needed someone at hand.”
She nibbled the edge of her lip. “Well... as a matter of fact...”
“What happened?”
Lexie huffed out a breath and shoved the admission out, “I landed in a closet and then I found a dead man with an apple stuffed in his mouth. The police were called in and that’s how I met your friend.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“I didn’t get that impression from him.”
“Don’t get too chummy with him. Guardians can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, yeah? Does that include you?”
“Yes. So did he catch the killer?”
“No.”
“What the hell. Get out of there, Lexie. Right now.”
“I can’t. He told me to stay put. Also, Luna has her feline shindig. Everyone wants to meet her. And that’s something that’s odd. I can’t figure out what this get-together is about. I thought it might be a match-making event, but all the cats are different breeds.”