Mission Inn-possible 04 - Raspberry Revenge

by Rosie A. Point

  I had been neglecting our ‘relationship’ even though we weren’t technically boyfriend and girlfriend. Only seeing each other.

  “Charlie, I just want you to be safe,” Smulder said.

  “And you think I don’t?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” I replied. “I’ve been doing a fine job of that on my own.”

  He grunted, and I snapped my attention back to him, raising an eyebrow.

  “Oh, come on, you know things haven’t been going as smoothly as they could’ve been. You do things that you shouldn’t. You let things slip when you shouldn’t. You’re not completely in control of the situation.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not,” Smulder said. “And the sooner you admit that, the better. There are some things you can’t control. Charlotte… you’ve—you’re a good person, but I don’t think this life is the right one for you.”

  “Living in a small town? You don’t say. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “No.” He inhaled deeply, his lips parting. “Not that life. The other one. The NSIB.” He breathed the last part because it was breaking cover to even mention the organization. “You’re too… hasty. You don’t measure the consequences of your actions. You just act and hope for the best. You just—”

  “Thanks. I’ll take your criticism on board.” I turned to go, my face so hot steam should’ve been streaming from my ears.

  “Charlie, wait.” He caught my arm.

  I ripped it free of his grasp. “What do you expect me to say to you? Thanks for telling me I’m not good at my job? Or thanks for confirming my worst fears?”

  “That’s not—”

  “What are you going to do, Brian?” I asked. “I just want to know so I can prepare ahead of time. You know what will happen to Georgina if you report her to Grant. She’ll be arrested, possibly relocated, and she’ll lose everything. Are you really going to do that to her?”

  “For her own safety—”

  “You can have whatever opinion you want about me, Brian, but save your breath when it comes to Georgina. You know who she is.”

  He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  I stared him down, gritting my teeth. I took several breaths to calm myself. “So, what’s it going to be?”

  A horrible silence passed between us, and as much as I liked Smulder, I was tempted to walk out and just… ugh. Scream? He’d just taken a shot at my confidence as a spy, and while I could accept that professionally, it was difficult taking it from him, specifically.

  What if he’s right? What then?

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just being honest.”

  I raised a palm. “What’s it going to be? With Georgina.”

  “I won’t make the call,” he said. “It goes against everything I believe in, but I won’t make the call. Because you’re right, Georgian is capable.”

  But I’m not. The unspoken words lingered. I nodded stiffly, then walked from the greenhouse.

  27

  We waited until 8 pm before getting in Gamma’s Mini-Cooper and driving to Jessie’s cattery. We parked around the corner from the house and walked the rest of the way, wearing all black and checking the street was quiet.

  It was.

  “How did you get rid of her?” I asked my grandmother, running my gloved hands over my tank top, touching my hand to the Taser tucked into a holster on my side. We’d opted for non-lethal weapons just in case we ran into trouble with Jessie’s associate.

  “I sent her to the theater,” Gamma replied softly, and stopped in front of Jessie’s home. The witch house. “Marjoram sent her an exclusive ‘Ladies Club’ invitation and she couldn’t resist.”

  “Two things,” I said, as we circled to the side of the house. “There’s a Ladies Club?”

  “Oh yes. Exclusive to the long-term residents of Gossip. Belle-Blue and I have been in competition for our spots in the club for years now.” Gamma climbed over the side wall and dropped out of sight.

  I followed suit and landed in a flowerbed, the soil mulching underfoot.

  “What’s the second question?”

  “There’s a woman named Marjoram? Isn’t that a spice?”

  “It’s an aromatic herb in the mint family, actually,” Gamma said. “And yes, that’s her name. It was her mother’s favorite cooking ingredient.”

  “I want to be surprised by that but… it’s Gossip.”

  Gamma placed a finger against her lips, and we studied the side of the building. A trellis sat against the side of the house, green fingers of a vine twining through and around it. A second-story window was open a crack to its left. Nothing on the first floor appeared unlocked.

  “Do you think that will take my weight?” I asked, nodding to the trellis.

  “Charlotte, really,” my grandmother said, and rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of getting in trouble for my high-tech stash of illegal items when we never use any of them.” She withdrew a handheld gun from her pocket and fiddled with a switch on the side.

  “Is that—? Wait, I remember that thing… the grappling gun!” The last time I’d used it, I’d needed a special tool that had switched off the alarm in the house. But it didn’t look like that would be a problem this time. Strange that Belle-Blue wouldn’t guard her cats more closely if she was so worried about them being catnapped.

  “Meet me around the back of the building. I’ll let you in,” Gamma said, and attached the end of the grappling gun's extendable cord to her belt.

  “Shouldn’t I—?”

  But it was too late to ask to be the one who did the grappling. My grandmother stepped forward, took aim, and loosed the matte black grapple. It ‘fwooped’ out of the gun and hooked into the windowsill of the intended target.

  “Wow, you’ve got great aim. But be careful when you hit that button on the side there because when I did it, it slammed me into the wall and dragged me up the side of—”

  Gamma hit the button on the grapple gun, and it drew her toward the side of the house. I cringed, expecting the thump of her body hitting the bricks. Instead, she landed her feet against it gently and ran up the wall. She reached the window, opened it wider, then slipped inside before dislodging the grapple from the sill.

  Easy as pie.

  Wow. Smulder’s right. I’m not nearly as good as I think I am.

  Gamma gestured for me to get moving, then disappeared inside the cattery.

  I skedaddled around to the back of the cattery and found Gamma standing at the back door, checking her watch. “Really, Charlotte, we don’t have all night.”

  Inside, we switched on the miniature flashlights attached to our jacket lapels and started the search. We needed evidence. Any evidence that would incriminate Jessie and this silver fox guy as the ones who had been stealing the cats. Then we’d use that to get Sunlight and the other kittens back, and if that incriminate Belle-Blue as the murderer somehow…

  We still didn’t have enough evidence on that front, apart from the fact that Vaughan had smelled of cat urine.

  Which this place didn’t.

  Hmm. Have we got the right suspect?

  “I’ll take upstairs,” Gamma said. “You stay down here and—” She froze.

  The front door had opened, and a sliver of light from outside slanted across the wooden floorboards in the front hall.

  We clicked off our flashlights, and Gamma and I slinked sideways into the living room, our steps silent. Hopefully.

  The door slammed and Belle-Blue, who was meant to be at the darn theater, muttered under her breath. “Can’t believe they thought that would be an appetizing show to watch after the murder. Idiots.” She clicked on the hall light, and Gamma and I stared at each other in the living room’s muted gloom.

  Belle-Blue’s TV was off, her floral sofas facing it too small to provide any cover for us should she enter the room.

  Exit strategy.

&nbs
p; One of us could distract her, while the other got away and—

  Gamma removed a small black clicker from her pocket and lifted it. She pressed a button on its side and the power in the house went out.

  “Shoot!” Belle-Blue exclaimed. “What in the heck…?”

  Now was our chance. I backed up toward the entrance to the living room, Gamma right on my heels, both of us silent and— a floorboard creaked underfoot.

  Belle-Blue’s cussing cut off.

  I stopped walking, my heart thumping in my ears.

  Gamma laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  Jessie shuffled down the hall toward the living room door. “Who’s there?” she called, her voice warbling out of fear. “Show yourself! I’m armed and I will shoot you if you don’t tell me who you are right now.”

  Belle-Blue reached the archway, and Gamma moved past me. She caught Belle-Blue around the waist and pressed her against the wall opposite. “Run!” she grunted.

  I sprinted into the hall, but the clamor of glass hitting the floor stopped me in my tracks. Belle-Blue shrieked, there was another bump and another.

  “Get off me, you freak!” Belle-Blue screamed.

  A light clicked on and the pair of them appeared. Belle-Blue was upright, her pashmina torn and around her waist, her eyes wild. Gamma had a handful of her hair and one arm around her neck. They both blinked in the sudden light.

  Gamma immediately let go of her, but my hand went to my Taser. This was a disaster. Belle-Blue would call the police on us.

  “I knew it!” Jessie shrieked, pointing a finger at Gamma. “I knew it was you behind the catnappings.”

  “What?” Gamma fisted her hips. “Us? Belle-Blue, the whole reason we broke into this stinking cattery was to prove you were the one who did it. You and that silver-haired man you’ve been dealing with.”

  Belle-Blue’s mouth dropped. She adjusted her shawl. “You think I’m… me? How dare you!”

  “How dare I? How dare you! You’re accusing me of the same thing and I’m not the one liaising with strangers in the middle of the night!”

  “Strangers!” Jessie came forward, tugging her ruined pashmina out of her path. “How dare you break in here and then tell me I’m the one doing the wrong thing!”

  “Apparently, we’re all very daring,” I said, wryly. It was difficult to worry about a situation like this when the two women were arguing like two hens over feed.

  “You’re a thief,” Gamma said. “And possibly a murderer. Admit it.”

  Well, this wasn’t going anywhere. They’d peck at each other ‘til the sun came up.

  “I’m calling the cops,” Belle-Blue screeched. “You horrible, evil woman. You—”

  “Stop,” I said, calmly. “It’s clear we’re all trying to find the truth about what happened to the cats.”

  Belle-Blue huffed and puffed, her hand in her bag as she rooted around for her cellphone.

  “They took our kittens.”

  That stopped her. “What?”

  “Whoever is doing this broke in and took our kittens.” My heart wrenched at the thought of poor Sunlight alone and unhappy. “Some of them need special care and we just want to get them back.”

  Belle-Blue sniffed and folded her arms, getting caught up in her pashmina. “I want my cats back too, but you don’t see me breaking into your inn in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s 8 pm,” Gamma said. “And you did bring police officers to my inn to get me arrested.”

  “I thought you were the one stealing the cats. I had to act swiftly.”

  “All right, wait.” I put out my hands, separating the women. “If you’re not the one stealing the cats, then why did we see you handing over a cat carrier to the man with silver hair?”

  Belle-Blue’s cheeks pinked again, and she cleared her throat twice. “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I was giving him his cat. I was looking after it for him while he was out of town.”

  “Right. But that’s not the first time I’ve seen you with him,” I said. “You were at the petting zoo together.”

  “Scheming,” Gamma inserted.

  Belle-Blue rolled her eyes. “We weren’t scheming. We were… we were… well, we were on a date.”

  Gamma sucked in a breath. I blinked.

  The infamous spinster on a date? The woman who most men ran from for fear of their lives? Jessie had been single for years, thanks to a husband who had left her for the greener pastures of an older woman with money.

  “Yes, a date. I can see how shocked you are,” Belle-Blue said. “And I don’t appreciate it. It’s not that difficult to believe I’m a catch.”

  “What’s his name?” Gamma croaked out the question.

  “Mortimer. Mortimer Brown. He just moved to Gossip a couple months ago, and he’s been lonely. Recently lost his wife,” Jessie said, in hushed tones. She fanned her cheeks and broke eye contact. “Anyway, he’s not a thief. He’s my friend.”

  “Special friend,” I muttered.

  Gamma snorted.

  “Either way,” Jessie said. “He’s not an evil man. And I’m not a cat thief.” She was calm about the whole thing. Maybe this Mortimer guy had mellowed her out.

  “Fine. Fine. But that doesn’t help us,” Gamma sighed. “Our kittens are gone, and we suspect that the person who took them might be involved in Mr. Shone’s murder.”

  “What? Why?” Jessie came forward readjusting her ruined pashmina to cover a pudgy arm.

  Gamma broke down what we knew, briefly, without exposing our reconnaissance missions. The cat connection—the urine smell—was tenuous but the fact that we’d run into Bridget at the shelter, and that she’d been chased by someone and then later attacked.

  “Well, you know what you have to do,” Belle-Blue said, matter-of-factly.

  “No?”

  “Lay a trap at the inn for the catnapper. Simple. You draw them in, and strike when they least expect it,” Jessie said, triumph glimmering in her dangerous blue eyes.

  28

  The following day…

  “It has to work,” I said, studying the cat carrier we’d placed in the center of the kitchen floor. “I mean. It has to, right?”

  Gamma bent and peered inside the carrier. “If only we could make it meow. That would be far more realistic.”

  “I think that’s the least of our worries. I mean, what if no one turns up? This is super short notice.” We’d sent out the message that today was another ‘Adopt a Kitten’ day at the Gossip Inn’s foster center. Gamma had bought an ad in The Gossip Rag and we’d gotten help from Belle-Blue of all people to spread the word.

  The trap was set.

  We’d draw in the catnapper, and he’d spot the unguarded cat carrier containing our fake Cocoa Puff. He’d take it, and the tracking chip we’d placed on the collar would help us follow him back to his base of operations. Assuming it was a guy. For all we knew, Bridget might’ve been behind it all.

  I bent and checked out our fake Cocoa Puff—a stuffed animal we’d been given by Belle-Blue, who was a collector of cat and dog stuffed animals in mass amounts. The cat had fluffy brown fur and a squashed face with a plastic black nose. It wasn’t particularly realistic, but it was cat-shaped and we were banking on the fact that the catnapper would be in a rush.

  “Are you ready for this?” Gamma asked.

  “Let’s get Jordan.”

  “Mr. Ames,” Gamma called, walking to the kitchen doors that led into the dining area. “We’re ready for you.”

  Jordan shuffled into the room, sporting a massive bandage wrapped around his head. He’d been to the doctor for treatment after the smack on his head and had taken to wearing the bandage since, though I wasn’t convinced he even needed it.

  “Would you be so kind, Mr. Ames?” Gamma prompted.

  Jordan shuffled over to the refrigerator and squeezed between it and the counter. He pressed a hand to the wall and fiddled around. A dull ‘tick’ rang out and a tiny section of wall swun
g inward, revealing a dim passageway beyond it.

  I swallowed. “Well, this is getting real, fast.”

  “Thank you,” Gamma said, and offered Jordan a cupcake from Lauren’s tray.

  “No problem.” Jordan accepted the cake, then meandered out into the hall, making for the foster center where he spent most of his time.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to do this, Charlotte?”

  “It’s just reconnaissance,” I replied. “There’s no danger in it. I’ll be fine. Besides, everyone will expect you to be in the center, entertaining the guests and helping people adopt what kittens we have left.”

  “Yes, yes. You’re right.” She checked her watch. “It’s time to take our positions. Good luck. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

  “Given that you literally ripped Belle-Blue’s clothes last night…”

  “No need to be cheeky, dear.” My grandmother pinched my cheek, then exited the kitchen.

  I entered the dusty passage in the wall, shifting the secret door so it remained open just a crack. Enough for me to keep eyes on the cat carrier and the fake Cocoa Puff. The authentic version was safely locked up in my room upstairs, with water, food, and a cracked window.

  He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

  Time passed, and I held my watch up to the sliver of light every now and again. A half an hour gone, then an hour, but I didn’t move. This had to work. It had to.

  Another fifteen minutes passed, the distant chatter from the adoption event leaking through to the kitchen as more and more people arrived to look at the kittens and enjoy Lauren’s raspberry cupcakes.

  Maybe it was time to give it up. If no one came, then—

  The kitchen door, the one that led to the yard, opened, and I stiffened up.

  Footfalls came next, and a man appeared in the center of the kitchen. He looked left and right, and I had to block the gasp that threatened to escape my lips.

  The catnapper was tall and willowy, bald as an egg, with a hooked nose. Archie! Stephanie Shone’s boyfriend was the catnapper! He grabbed the cat carrier with the fake Cocoa and took off, the kitchen door slamming shut behind him.