Hoppy Holiday Homicide (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 9)

by Molly Fitz

  A small paw patted the back of my calf. I turned around and bent down, expecting to find Paisley, but instead, it was Octo-Cat who sat there looking rather pleased with himself.

  “Now that I’ve finally filled my stomach, I can think a little clearer,” he explained, then stopped to lick his paw and drag it across his forehead. I waited impatiently as he licked and dragged—licked and dragged half a dozen times—without providing further commentary.

  Finally I blurted out, “Do you know something? Do you know who took Mags?”

  He dropped his paw back to the ground and stared up at me with large amber eyes.

  “I don’t know anything,” Mr. Milton answered, assuming I’d been talking to him. How could I have forgotten he was here? I needed to be more careful with my secret, no matter how much I was worried about my cousin in that moment.

  “Of course I don’t know that,” Octo-Cat answered with an exasperated groan. “But I think I know something else that might help.” He paused again for emphasis, the way he so often liked to do when he was building the drama of the scene.

  My cat’s love of theatrics would be the end of me one day. Quite literally. I’d probably have a heart attack while waiting out one of his dramatic pauses.

  “Well?” I demanded, unable to take it anymore as I moved my hands to my hips. I shifted my eyes from the cat to Nan, pretending she was the target of my ire so that I’d at least have a cover in front of Mr. Milton.

  Ugh. Why had she brought him along?

  “Yeesh. So impatient.” My cat stopped again and stared at me, challenging me to push him again.

  I bit my tongue and waited him out while Nan filled the silence to keep up our charade.

  After several moments, Octo-Cat seemed appeased and blinked his eyes slowly before continuing. “Even though you’re being a bit rude, I’ll tell you what I know. You know how all humans look the same? You and Mags look even more the same than most.”

  Even though I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting at, I asked for clarification, anyway. “What do you mean?”

  Nan gave an answer, but my ears were focused firmly on Octo-Cat.

  He shook his head, flicked his tail, and sighed yet again. “I mean whoever took Mags probably meant to take you instead. Think about it, and you’ll see that I’m right. As usual.”

  Chapter Eight

  The moment Octo-Cat spoke those words, I knew they were true. Mags didn’t know anyone in Blueberry Bay besides my family and me.

  No one had any reason to take her.

  True, she had no friends here, but also no enemies.

  Me, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say I’d ruffled more than a few feathers during the course of my investigations. But was that enough for someone to want to kidnap me?

  Rather than continue to puzzle over this myself, I decided to ask Nan. Even though I already knew I believed in Octo-Cat’s theory, I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that someone had meant me harm.

  “Do you think the people who took Mags meant to take me instead? Everyone is always saying how similar we look, and well, maybe…” I let my voice trail off.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” she asked, shaking her head now.

  Mr. Milton wrapped an arm around Nan’s shoulders and pulled her tight into his side. The familiarity of this gesture made my stomach turn over.

  “Who would want to take her—or you—so badly that they’d risk doing it in the middle of a crowded festival?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine.

  Although that was an appropriate question, it still rankled me. I wished Nan would ask Mr. Milton to go away and leave the investigation to us.

  He was also wrong. The streets had begun to fill out a bit more as the morning wore on, but we still didn’t have anything near a crowd, especially in the mostly empty area that housed the ice sculpture garden outside of the main action.

  Scanning the streets, I did a quick count and noticed four people in the nearby vicinity. If they’d seen what happened with the van, they certainly weren’t letting on. Those who had witnessed my frantic run had already departed, more than likely not realizing how serious matters had become.

  Nan remained cuddled up against Mr. Milton, although the lovey-dovey look she’d had in her eyes earlier had long since flown the coop.

  “It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak in and out with a plan,” she pointed out. “People will be coming and going all day, there’s parking in at least half a dozen different places, and many vendors are bringing their vans and SUVs in to load and unload. So, you see, it would be relatively easy to take her. Easier than it normally would be, at least.”

  “We’re going with my theory, then. Right?” Octo-Cat asked impatiently. “Because I’m right about this, just like I’m right about most things. Really, you need to start listening a bit quicker.”

  I nodded in response. While I also hated to waste time discussing already established points, I also couldn’t trust everything he said at face value. Not only was he often crabby and sarcastic, but some of his ideas were a bit too influenced by the melodramatic TV shows he liked watching before and after his morning and afternoon naps.

  Octo-Cat sniffed the cold air above his head. “Are you answering me or simply humoring me? It’s so much harder when you’re not talking to me. Are we proceeding with the assumption that you were the target instead of Mags?”

  “Yes,” I hissed partially under my breath. It’s like he didn’t care about keeping my secret at all.

  “What was that?” Mr. Milton asked with a furrowed brow and a quizzical expression.

  “Oh, uh, just talking to myself,” I stuttered as heat flushed my cheeks. “What I meant was yes, Nan’s absolutely right. Anyone could have taken her, and the longer we wait to go after her, the harder it will be to find her. We need to do something, and we need to do it now.”

  Nan wriggled free of his arm. “Yes, yes, we need to go after her.”

  “But she could be anywhere,” Mr. Milton said with a sigh. “Someone dangerous could have her. We could be walking into a situation that we might not walk out of.”

  I glowered at him, hating that he had any say in this at all.

  “It’s what family does,” I said. “It’s what good people do. They show up. They help each other.”

  “Especially at Christmastime,” Nan added, making a tsking noise as she shook her head dolefully. “It’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Yeah, and if you’re not up for it, we can handle this ourselves,” I added, hoping that he would take the bait and make a run for it.

  He cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on me with a bit of a grimace. “Well, I can’t leave you two lovely ladies on your own, especially when the situation could be dangerous.”

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Then I turned toward Nan, intentionally facing away from Mr. Milton. “The first thing we need to do is call Mom and Dad and make sure they know what’s going on. We’ll need everybody working hard to find Mags—and let’s not forget, the ice sculpture murderer.”

  “What a Holiday Spectacular this is turning out to be,” Nan pointed out grimly.

  She turned to the side and faced Mr. Milton. “Would you please give us a moment, dear?” she asked with a slight smile.

  “Oh yes. Oh yes, of course. I’ll just go get us some latkes. They looked good, and perhaps a hot snack is just what we all need now.” He stumbled away, clearly sore about Nan’s dismissal, but I was happy she’d done it and hoped she planned to avoid him during the rest of our search as well.

  Her eyes flashed as she turned them on me, speaking quietly and quickly. “I’ll take care of the call to your folks,” she said. “You see what the animals know.”

  “Already on it,” I said, nodding just once before scooping both animals up in my arms to Paisley’s delight and Octo-Cat’s disdain.

  “Listen up, guys,” I said. “There are people down
the block, so I can’t be too loud, and if anyone comes close, I might have to quiet up mid-sentence. Okay? Let’s chat. Did you hear anything? Or see anything? Or smell anything that can help us find out what happened to Mags?”

  Octo-Cat shifted into a more comfortable position but still seemed put off by being clutched to my chest beside the wagging ball of Paisley. “They do this to cats all the time, you know. Come in vans, take us away, put us in the pound. I’ve never had to deal with such indignities, obviously, but nobody calls for reinforcements when it happens to us.”

  Paisley whined and dipped her head. “It happened to me. That’s how I got to the shelter in the first place. After my first mom died, me and my brothers and sister were living in the street and so hungry we didn’t know what we were going to do. But then a big van came and took us to the shelter. It wasn’t quite as bad there, but then Nan came and found me, and everything was perfect, and it’s been perfect ever since.”

  Octo-Cat rolled his eyes at her. “If you’re suggesting that Mags is better off because some random hooded guy in a van took her, then you would be very, very wrong. It doesn’t work the same way for humans as it does for us.”

  Paisley whimpered again. “But you said if it were a cat…”

  “I know what I said. Sometimes I just need to give Angela a hard time, so she knows I’m paying attention.”

  Now I rolled my eyes.

  “Paisley, sweetie,” I said softly, “thank you for telling me your story, but in this case, Octo-Cat is right. Whoever took Mags doesn’t want to help her.”

  “Are they going to hurt her?” the little dog asked, shaking violently at the prospect

  “I hope not,” I said in a strained whisper.

  At the same time, Octo-Cat answered, “Yeah, probably.”

  I choked back a sob.

  If something happened to Mags, I’d never forgive myself. Not just because she’d come to Glendale on my account, but because the kidnapper had most likely meant to take me instead.

  Would he be angry when he realized Mags was the wrong person?

  Would he come for me, too?

  Would he dispose of her?

  Let her go?

  Oh, how I wished I knew.

  Chapter Nine

  Mr. Milton returned with two orders of latkes about fifteen minutes after he first departed.

  Nan accepted hers by giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

  I shook my head and said, “No thanks,” still clutching Octo-Cat tight.

  Paisley had already jumped down to dance at Nan’s feet.

  Honestly, there was so much fear in my stomach already that I didn't have much room for anything else.

  They made quick work of their snack while I racked my brain trying to figure out how best to proceed. “I'm going to go find Mr. Gable,” I announced before heading decisively to the right, leaving them both behind.

  “Mommy! Mommy! I'm coming, too!” Paisley cried, frolicking after Octo-Cat and me in her silly reindeer costume.

  We found Mr. Gable in the same place I left him earlier that morning—at the main entry to the festival dressed up as a jacketless Santa while guiding visitors into his sleigh for the perfect photo op.

  His bunny sidekick E.B. sat nearby in the nativity scene half covered in hay and looking hilariously out of place as a life-size bunny nestled among miniature plastic shepherds, wisemen, cows, camels, and angels.

  Mr. Gable finished with the family of four he was photographing, wished them a Merry Christmas, and then turned toward me, concern furrowing his brow.

  “Why, Angie… Why do you look so out of breath? Are you coming from the latest reindeer game?” He chuckled in that soft, happy way that old men had, but not quite vibrant or boisterous enough to match his role as Santa.

  Once again I was reminded that I needed to make some effort to get into better shape, especially since my seventy-year-old Nan could run circles around me—and often did.

  “Mr. Gable, have the police been in touch with you?” I drew out my phone and looked at the time displayed on its screen. Surprisingly, little more than half an hour had passed since I’d told officer Bouchard about my discovery of the two corpses in the ice sculpture garden and even less time than that since Mags was taken.

  Mr. Gable’s cheeks turned red to match mine. Now he looked more like Santa, which made me happy somehow. “Why would the police have been in touch? What happened?”

  As much as I didn’t want to be the one to tell him, it looked like I had no choice. I caught him up on the discovery of the bodies and that we already knew at least one was a judge his committee had hired. I also told him how Mags had been kidnapped shortly after and hauled away in a speeding cargo van.

  He stared at me for a moment, eyes wide and unblinking. “All that happened this morning? Right here at our Holiday Spectacular?” His voice cracked on that last syllable.

  “Afraid so,” I answered with a frown. “Officer Bouchard is taking care of things at the crime scene. He’s already called for backup and I'm trying to figure out who took Mags and how I can get her back.”

  That was one problem with living in a small town. We didn't really have enough cops to handle the double homicide, let alone a kidnapping on top of that. That's why my work as a private investigator was so important. Officer Bouchard had let me partner with him on investigations more than once for this very reason.

  “What should we do?” Mr. Gable asked, his face turning from red to white to red again, a flashing display of his anxiety.

  “We've been planning the Spectacular all year. Vendors have come from all over Blueberry Bay. Folks travel from out of town to be here. Hundreds more are on their way right now. Do we close everything down and call it a loss, or do we try to keep going despite the crimes that were committed here this morning?”

  I shook my head, wishing I had an answer. “Seems like a lose-lose, no matter what you do. I wouldn't want to be in your position.”

  He sighed heavily and ran both hands through his thick white hair. “Ugh. This was not a responsibility I thought I'd ever have as chairman of the committee. But even if I’m the head, we are a team. I think I need to let the others weigh in before I make a definitive decision. Wouldn’t you say?”

  I set Octo-Cat down on the front seat of the sleigh and then joined him on the bench.

  Paisley pranced below, too short to hop up for herself. So I bent over and gave her a lift. She immediately licked my face, happy to be reunited after our fifteen-second separation.

  “That sounds like a good plan to me,” I said, largely because I had no other ideas to offer. “I'll stay here to greet people and take their pictures while you go talk with the others.”

  “Oh, wonderful, wonderful,” he said, pushing the sleek digital camera into my hands. “Would you mind watching E.B. too? She’ll probably just sleep through everything. I have her leash tied to that back camel’s leg there, so she shouldn't give you any trouble.”

  “Of course we’ll keep an eye on her. No problem at all,” I assured him.

  “Bunny-sitting duty? Gag me,” Octo-Cat moaned beside me.

  Mr. Gable smiled quickly, but the slight look of happiness disappeared from his face in an instant, and he rushed off muttering something to himself.

  I glanced toward the nearest parking lot but couldn't see any new festivalgoers arriving. That meant I had a small bit of privacy and could talk to the animals again.

  “I thought we were going to find Mags,” Paisley whined.

  “That is what she said we were going to do,” Octo-Cat added. “But you know how fickle humans can be. Angela, how long are we going to be stationed here, away from the action?”

  I wished I knew. There were a lot of things I wished I knew right about then, and only one new creature I could ask for information.

  I slipped down from the sleigh’s bench seat and tiptoed toward the nativity display, careful not to disturb the rabbit. From last I remembered meeting her, she was a very nervo
us sort and I needed to see if she knew anything that could help me. If I frightened her, though, chances were she wouldn’t talk to me at all.

  I needed to play this exactly right.

  For Mags.

  Chapter Ten

  Once I reached the nativity display, I sat down gently beside the manger. An icy dampness immediately saturated my bottom, but I didn't care.

  “E.B.,” I said softly. “E.B., it’s me, Angie. We met at the pet shop when we were there for pictures with Santa. I don't know if you remember me, but—”

  The hay beside me twitched, and a little gray nose poked its way out, followed by two dark eyes. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Who are you? What are you doing here? Where's Mr. Gable? Are you going to eat me? Am I going to die? Is everything okay? Oh Merry Christmas, what a Christmas…”

  Octo-Cat appeared at my side with a snarky grin stretched between his whiskers. I couldn’t tell whether he was here to help me or to have some fun at E.B.’s expense.

  “Relax, rabbit,” he snarled. “She's not going to eat you. But if you don't cooperate, maybe I will.”

  He laughed devilishly in the same way he did when he threw up outside my bedroom door, enjoying the means much more than the end. So he’d be helping me and making things more difficult at the exact same time. Great.

  “Oh, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas!” E.B. sputtered, using the holiday greeting as a curse word. “I do not want to be eaten. I do not. I knew I shouldn't have left home today. Mr. Gable made me, but I didn't want to go. I just wanted to sleep at home and eat carrots, and oh!”

  With a wildly flicking tail, my cat shouted, “If you know what's good for you, you'll listen to what the lady has to say. No more of this ‘Merry Christmas’ business. You got me?”