by Paige Sleuth
“Can you give me the names of the individuals he was out with?”
“No, I can’t.” Clarissa pursed her lips, her gaze aimed somewhere past Andrew’s shoulder. “But I know Niles Quayle was there. He’s another divorce lawyer in Jay’s firm. Jay had drunk too much and called me for a ride, but before I could leave the house he phoned back and said Niles had volunteered to drive him home instead. You could ask Niles about the others.”
“And Niles Quayle was already gone when you heard the gun go off?”
Clarissa started to nod but stopped abruptly. Her eyes moved toward Jay, and her lips parted a fraction as if she were just now realizing what had happened this evening.
“Niles Quayle,” she murmured. “You should add him to your list too, Detective. Up until a couple weeks ago both Niles and Jay were being considered for the same partnership position.”
“What happened a couple weeks ago?”
“Why, the senior partners decided to promote Jay over Niles.”
“And how did Mr. Quayle react to that?” Andrew asked.
“I don’t socialize with Niles, Detective. But if he was even half as arrogant as my husband, I’m sure being passed over didn’t sit well with him in the slightest.”
Kat’s gaze veered back toward the gruesome scene on the lawn. Just how badly had Niles Quayle wanted that partnership? Enough to forcibly reopen the position after he had been bested by the competition? Or was Clarissa on the right track when she’d first suspected an unhappy former client or a client of the opposition? Regardless of who was responsible, it certainly sounded as though quite a few people in town wouldn’t be mourning Jay LaPierre’s death.
Kat couldn’t help but think the new widow fell into that category as well.
CHAPTER THREE
The fireworks had stopped by the time Kat returned home. Andrew hadn’t come back with her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he spent all night at the LaPierres’ house with the forensics crew and whatever other officials showed up on the scene. Although he technically had the night off, CHPD didn’t have a large enough force for him to ever really be off duty.
Kat found Matty and Tom cuddled up on the bed together. The two felines were taking turns grooming each other’s heads as if to reassure themselves that they’d both survived their harrowing start to the July Fourth weekend intact. The sight of them acting so loving warmed Kat’s heart, and she spent a few minutes comforting them with her own slow strokes. Or maybe they were the ones comforting her. At any rate, their calm and quiet presence was a welcome contrast to the scene she had just left. Pretty soon Kat found herself yawning, and before she knew it she fell into a deep sleep.
Kat stayed like that until Matty woke her bright and early Saturday morning with demands for breakfast. The tortoiseshell seemed to have made a full recovery from the previous evening’s trauma, which was more than Kat could say for herself. The minute her eyes opened her thoughts were back on Jay LaPierre.
She fed the cats, wondering if Andrew had any case updates he was willing to share. She supposed she would have to wait until their dinner date tonight to find out. He hadn’t called, and she didn’t want to phone him this early, knowing he’d undoubtedly been up most of the night.
Besides, she had things to do herself and didn’t have time to obsess over Jay’s murder right now. Solving murders was the police’s job. Her job was to focus on the morning wellness check she had scheduled with Ani Bedrossian in a couple hours.
Ani had recently become a feline foster mother for Furry Friends Foster Families, the animal rescue organization Kat had joined as treasurer soon after her return to Cherry Hills. Imogene Little, 4F’s president, would normally accompany Kat on this type of visit, but Imogene was out of town for the holiday weekend.
Kat was looking forward to the wellness check. The kitten in Ani’s care was an adorable tabby with a seemingly endless supply of energy. Little Clyde would be the perfect distraction from last night’s murder.
Although she’d been to Ani’s house before, Kat still found herself admiring the two-story structure and its perfect landscaping as she pulled into the driveway two hours later. The place seemed much too large for one person, but perhaps that was Ani’s impetus for becoming a feline foster parent a couple weeks ago. Animal companions, even temporary ones, were excellent at filling homes with love and laughter.
A beautiful Armenian woman with long raven hair, a flawless tan, and brooding eyes the color of dark chocolate, Ani had the door open before Kat had even stepped out of her car. “Kat, you’re here.”
“Is everything okay?” As Kat started up the driveway she could clearly see the harried look on Ani’s face and the worry lines that creased her mouth.
“Yes.” Ani frowned. “For now anyway.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Ani bit her lip. “I’ll tell you inside.”
Kat told herself not to panic as she stepped into the house. Ani wouldn’t have said nothing was wrong if it were something serious. And she had to take into account the fact that Ani hadn’t been fostering for long. Clyde and his mother, Bonnie, were her first charges. The first-timers tended to be much more nervous than the experienced volunteers.
Kat should know. She often felt like a first-timer herself. Sure, she had learned a lot since joining 4F last summer, but she was wise enough to realize there was still a lot more she didn’t know. Dealing with kittens made her especially nervous. They were so small and fragile looking it was easy to imagine everything that could go wrong in their young lives.
She took a deep breath. She was more than qualified to conduct this wellness check by herself, she assured herself. Worst case, one of the other, more experienced 4F board members was just a phone call away.
“Clyde is in here,” Ani said, leading the way. If she noticed Kat’s bout of nerves, she was kind enough not to mention it.
The room Ani entered was bright and spacious, its defining feature the east-facing bay window that overlooked the backyard and the rising morning sun. It was the type of view a person never got tired of, and it made the rest of the room seem unworthy of attention.
The cats seemed to have claimed the expansive window seat as their own. Bonnie, an orange-and-gray mackerel tabby with a white bib, had made herself at home on a blanket laid out in a particularly sunny spot. A miniature version of herself squirmed in her paws, clearly not appreciating the bath she was attempting to give him.
Kat melted at the sight of mother and son together. Clyde had been the runt of the litter, which was why he was still here with Bonnie after his siblings had already been adopted out. He no longer looked like a runt now though.
“He must have doubled in size since I saw him last,” Kat said, walking over to the pair.
“Yes, he has.” Ani laughed. “That Clyde loves nothing more than a good meal.”
Kat held her hand out to the animals. Both felines gave her fingers a sniff, then Clyde latched onto her index finger with his two tiny front paws and nibbled at the fleshy part of her palm.
Kat grinned. “He’s certainly a playful one.” She swirled her hand around in small circles as Clyde clung to her finger. He started kicking at her with his hind feet, seeming to enjoy the ride.
“Curious too.” Ani pointed to a carpeted ramp that led from the floor to the window seat. “I had to put that together when he figured out how to get up there but not how to get back down. You should have heard him crying the first time he stranded himself. It was heartbreaking.”
“Aw.” Kat scratched the kitten’s tummy. “I bet you looked cute up here on your mountain all by yourself, little Clyde-ster, even if you were stuck.”
“Well, he wasn’t stuck for long. Bonnie came to his rescue.” Ani joined Kat by the window. “I’m going to be sad when he reaches his adoption weight and they’re both gone.”
“You’re always welcome to keep them yourself. Foster parents have first rights
to any animal in their care.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not in a position to be making a long-term commitment to anyone or anything right now. My divorce hasn’t been final for long, and I still feel a bit . . . ungrounded. It’s not fair to make any major changes when my life is so up in the air.”
“I understand. And you’ve been doing a wonderful job fostering.” Kat gave Clyde’s chest a gentle scratch before extracting her hand from his grip. Then she patted Bonnie on the head and turned her full attention to Ani. “You sounded agitated about something earlier though. I’m assuming it concerns the cats?”
“Yes.” Ani wrung her hands together. “It’s my ex-husband. He stopped by yesterday.”
Kat observed how Ani’s eyes darkened at the mention of her ex. “Did something happen with the cats while he was here?”
“He . . .” Ani drew in a sharp breath, as if she had unexpectedly run out of oxygen. When she began speaking again, her words gushed out in a rush. “He saw Bonnie and Clyde in here. I didn’t want him to come in this room. I tried to block him. But that only made him more insistent. He barged in before I could stop him. And when he saw the cats, he got this glint in his eye. He gets it when he’s drunk and mean. He—” She broke off, her voice cracking.
Kat’s heart was in her throat. She laid her palm on Bonnie and let her fingers rest on Clyde, the urge to protect them so strong it blurred her vision.
“He asked me if cats really did land on their feet when they fell from high distances. His question had me paralyzed, Kat, because I know how he thinks. Then, before I could stop him, he went to pick up Clyde.”
Kat couldn’t breathe as she waited for Ani to continue. She looked at little Clyde. The notion of such a helpless little kitten being at the mercy of an ill-spirited drunkard made her sick to her stomach.
“He went to pick up Clyde,” Ani said again, “but Bonnie attacked before he could get his hands on him. Kat, she swiped at him—hard enough to draw blood. She left three long, nasty gashes right on the back of his left hand.”
Kat silently cheered. She rubbed the feline’s head as a reward for her courage. Bonnie’s eyes slipped closed, and a rumbling purr began to fill the room.
But Kat knew Ani hadn’t finished her story yet. “What happened next?”
“Well, being scratched only fueled my ex’s anger. He threatened to call Animal Control and have the cats taken away because they posed a threat to human health and safety.” Ani grimaced. “It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I’ve seen my ex when he’s determined. He doesn’t back down.”
“If Animal Control shows up here, call me,” Kat told her. “Or call any of the other 4F board members. We’ll talk to them. They won’t take the cats. I promise.”
Ani nodded, but she didn’t look reassured. “Kat, my ex, he has a really bad temper. I didn’t want to tell you before. I didn’t think it was relevant, but now . . . I don’t know.” She blinked back the tears that filled her dark eyes. “Maybe it’s not safe for me to be fostering animals right now. I mean, even if Animal Control won’t take the cats, what if Mitch comes back? Next time he might really hurt them.”
Kat barely registered her question. She had stopped listening as soon as Ani had mentioned her ex-husband by name. “Your ex is Mitch? As in Mitch Townsend?”
“That’s right.” Ani frowned. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
She knew she should explain. Ani was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and expectancy. But Kat had so many questions of her own she couldn’t be bothered to address Ani’s right now.
“Your last name is Bedrossian,” she said.
“It’s my maiden name,” Ani explained. “I changed it back after our divorce. Keeping Mitch’s last name was too painful a reminder of what being married to him was like.”
So far Mitch Townsend wasn’t sounding like someone Kat ever wanted to meet. She could only imagine how horrible it must have been to be married to such a man. People who were cruel to animals often didn’t treat their fellow human beings much better.
“What time was Mitch here?” Kat asked.
“He stopped by around nine, I guess.”
“And how long did he stay?”
“I don’t know. It felt like forever, but it was probably only fifteen minutes or so.”
Jay LaPierre had been killed around ten p.m., Kat remembered. If Mitch had left here fifteen minutes after nine, he would have had plenty of time to get to Jay’s house.
Kat’s scalp tingled. Could Mitch’s visit here last night have spurred him to kill Jay? Maybe seeing Ani again had brought back every perceived injustice he’d suffered through in divorce court and he’d finally decided to make Jay pay.
“Ani,” Kat said, her heart thumping, “does Mitch own a gun?”
“A gun?” Ani stumbled backward a step, looking startled by the question. “Why would you want to know that?”
“I take it you haven’t heard what happened to Jay LaPierre last night.”
“No. What happened?”
“He was shot dead on his front lawn.”
Ani’s eyes widened. “And you think Mitch . . .”
“I think it’s a possibility,” Kat said.
Ani didn’t reply right away, but the dawning horror in her eyes made it clear she wouldn’t put murder past her ex-husband.
“He does have a gun,” Ani finally said. “But as far as I know he’s never used it outside of practice sessions at the range.”
Kat traced the M pattern on Bonnie’s forehead with her finger. Looking at Bonnie and Clyde, Ani’s inaugural foster charges, she couldn’t help but think there was a first time for everything.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kat couldn’t explain why she detoured down Mad Meadow Road on her way home from Ani Bedrossian’s house. Neither could she explain why she decelerated when she neared where the railroad tracks intersected with the street.
Okay, so she could explain. After she had learned Mitch Townsend was Ani’s ex, the murder had once again taken center stage in her mind. But acknowledging that this side trip was deliberate would require that she own up to her intent to do a little investigating. And that meant she would have to tell Andrew. And he wouldn’t be happy about her getting involved in police business—something she seemed to do quite regularly.
Kat drove across the railroad tracks, thoughts of Andrew replaced by a vague curiosity over which of the run-down mobile homes belonged to Eunice Berkowitz. She supposed it didn’t really matter. With their peeling paint, mossy roofs, and rusted vehicles parked on patchy brown grass, the properties around here all looked pretty much the same.
A fortyish woman with shoulder-length brown hair emerged from a ramshackle blue house on the left. Three cats of varying colors materialized from the nearby shrubbery and began circling around her feet. The woman set something on the ground in front of them. Kat couldn’t see what was in her hands, but from the way the cats dove she figured it had to be edible.
A firework went off nearby, the unexpected blast causing Kat to startle. She wasn’t the only one. The trio of cats scattered in all different directions. Kat stepped on the brake pedal when she realized the orange one was headed into the street.
The brunette yelled something and ran after the feline. But he didn’t stop. He darted past Kat’s car, disappearing behind the mobile home across the street. The woman stared after him, a look of despair stretched across her face.
Kat threw the car into park and turned off the ignition. “Can I help you find your cat?” she called through the open window as she fumbled with her seat belt.
“He’s not my cat,” the brunette replied.
“Oh.” Kat stepped out of her car. “I thought I saw you feeding him.”
“I was.” The woman glanced in the direction where the orange tabby had run before she turned to Kat with a sigh. “But he’s not mine.”
One of the other cats wandered over. This one was black with an adorable little white must
ache and a set of four white socks on his feet. He leaned against the woman’s leg and gazed up at her until she reached down to stroke his head.
“This one’s not mine either,” she said. “Neither is the white one. They all used to belong to my neighbor before he moved away this past winter. He left them behind, and I felt sorry for them. So now I feed them a couple times a day.”
Kat felt an instant affinity with this kindhearted soul. “That’s really nice of you.”
The brunette fingered her hair, as though Kat’s compliment embarrassed her. “Anyone would do the same.”
Kat wasn’t so sure about that. Take the neighbor who had left his pets to fend for themselves, for instance.
“If you’re interested, I’m part of Furry Friends Foster Families,” Kat said. “We’re an animal rescue, and we can look at getting these cats into homes.”
“I don’t know.” The brunette gave the black cat one last pat before straightening her spine. “I’d miss them if they weren’t here.”
“How come you don’t take them in?”
“My landlady doesn’t allow pets.” She looked around as if to make sure they were still alone. “I did let them inside the enclosed patio out back yesterday though. Just overnight, mind you. The kids around here were setting off so many fireworks I worried they might get injured. But I let them out very early, before anyone would notice.”
The door to the house banged open, and a tall boy of around fourteen or fifteen ran outside. His strides were long and fluid, like that of a runner. Unruly dirty-blond locks licked the collar of his T-shirt with every step he took.
“Mom!” he shouted.
The woman turned around. “What is it, Presley?”
Kat sucked in a breath. Hadn’t Clarissa said Eunice Berkowitz’s son was named Presley? Could she have been standing here chatting with a murder suspect for the past few minutes without even realizing it?
The boy joined them near the street. The black cat started sniffing his sneakers, his little white mustache twitching with interest. Presley didn’t seem to notice. He glanced briefly at Kat before focusing his full attention on his mother.