Cat Got Your Crown

by Julie Chase

  Veronica looked at me.

  I baby-stepped forward. “Did you forget to mention something during your interview with the police yesterday?”

  “No.” She shook her head in the negative. A tear slid from the corner of her eye. “Yes.”

  “Which?” Jack barked.

  Veronica and I started. I’d forgotten how intimidating Jack could be when he was in cop mode and talking to anyone other than me.

  “I sent Viktor some things that I want back,” she said, folding her arms and sinking onto a nearby chair. “I’m such an idiot.”

  Jack stared, unmoved. I bit my tongue against the urge to fill the silence.

  Veronica rolled red-rimmed eyes up to meet Jack’s no-nonsense expression. “I sent Viktor a few very personal emails and photographs. I hoped his computer was still in here so I could delete them before the police printed them for a case file or posted them on the Internet. I was sent home last night before the team finished in here, so I thought I’d take a look now while everyone’s at the other place and see if I could find them.”

  I was physically ill on her behalf, and extremely thankful the era of social media and selfie-sending hadn’t been so popular when I was younger. At least none of my teenage misdeeds or dalliances had been photographically documented for all eternity. When I got rid of a letter or photo from my past, it was never seen again.

  I couldn’t imagine why a pretty young girl like Veronica would send anything like she was describing to a mean old man twice her age, but people were strange, and my life decisions hadn’t always come from a place of sound logic and reason either, so who was I to judge?

  “How well did you know Viktor Petrov?” Jack asked. “You must’ve been close to send him personal emails and photos.”

  “No,” she said. “I only knew him peripherally. We had short conversations every day. Nothing more substantial than his schedule, but we had these moments. These brief flirtations I thought meant something more. I read into the exchanges like a fool. He never responded to the emails, which was humiliating, and of course I couldn’t unsend them, so he knew I was trying to start something.” She dropped her face into her palms and groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Did Viktor have a specific beef with anyone in the pageant?” I asked.

  Jack turned a warning face on me.

  I lifted my brows and shoulders. “I thought we were doing a good cop/bad cop thing,” I whispered. “I saw her arguing with a pet owner outside this room yesterday right after Viktor fell. Maybe that guy was an enemy of his.”

  Jack swung his attention back to Veronica. “What was the fight about?”

  “He wanted into the room,” she said, “but I needed inside to look for the emails and photos while the security staff was in the theater dealing with the fall. Then Mr. North showed up and stopped me.”

  “Why did Mr. North want in here?” Jack asked.

  “I didn’t ask and he didn’t say,” Veronica said, “but we saw Lacy leaving, and then the door was locked. Neither of us could get inside. Security showed up a few minutes later and escorted us to the theater, where we waited to be questioned.”

  “Well, someone was inside before the police came to investigate,” I said. “Who else had access?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone I know was in the theater.”

  “Did any of the other PAs want to hurt Viktor?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  So much for Mrs. Hams’s theory.

  I moved to Veronica’s side and crouched before her chair. “I wish I could get those emails and photos back for you,” I said. “I can’t do that, but if there’s anything else you can think of that might help close the case quickly, maybe the police won’t have any reason to look too closely at your private correspondence with him.”

  She looked to Jack, who bobbed his head in vague agreement.

  “Veronica,” I said, “can you think of anything else?”

  Her brow wrinkled in thought. She stuffed a thumb into her mouth and chewed the skin along her nail.

  “What about Miles Mackey?” I asked. “He stepped into the MC role pretty eagerly. Can you think of a reason he was in such a hurry?”

  “MC is the most prestigious position at the pageant,” she said. “He’ll get paid more, get more airtime, more interviews, more of the spotlight and fanfare. Judges blend into the background, but there are a lot of bonuses to being MC if you’re an attention hound.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if the position’s pay increase also came with a hefty cash bonus.

  Or bribe.

  Chapter Eight

  Furry Godmother’s advice on life: Never tell your age, your weight, or your mother no.

  I arrived at the Audubon Tea Room about thirty minutes after Mom called to demand my presence. She and the committee had approved the venue over lunch, and everything for the NPP was currently in transition and acclimation, including one hundred pets in need of their Furry Godmother.

  I hurried toward the row of glass front doors, my little pink tackle box of seamstress supplies bouncing against my thigh with each step. The Audubon Tea Room was on Magazine Street, like Furry Godmother, but instead of being surrounded by cafés and boutiques, it was tucked neatly in with the Audubon Zoo, a place I’d visited dozens of times in my life, often for fund raisers, frequently for weddings, but never as part of an event’s staff.

  I flung the large glass door open, feeling both strangely out of place and slightly empowered. I wasn’t just here for the refreshments this time. I was needed, and I had a job to do. Two jobs if I counted my new judgeship.

  The ballroom was a magnificent rotunda with polished hardwood floors, whimsical art on the walls, and an enormous chandelier suspended from an impressive domed ceiling. An extensive bank of windows offered fantastic views of the veranda and garden beyond. The veranda was spacious and well landscaped, perfect for an open bar, buffet, or band and often where the bride and groom exchanged vows before enjoying a grand reception inside. The surrounding gardens were lush, picturesque, and private. I especially enjoyed the ancient sprawling oaks, all bearded in moss like the ones outside my bedroom window when I was growing up.

  “There you are.” My mother’s voice stopped me before I’d managed to get both feet inside the ballroom. She and the committee ladies strode forward in tight formation. Mrs. Smart strode along at Mom’s side, swinging her duck-head cane smartly as she kept pace. “Where were you?” Mom asked.

  “I stopped at the Saenger to talk with Jack,” I said.

  A few of the ladies exchanged bashful grins at the sound of his name. I’d missed Jack’s return to the Garden District after the death of his grandfather, but according to Scarlet, he’d thwarted a constant flow of female advances before my return, and none of the district do-gooders or debutantes had made it past his front door with their store-bought casseroles and overeager ovaries. Shamelessly, that was one of my favorite stories, though Jack admittedly hadn’t liked me either at first. He’d actually accused me of murder, but that was before he got to know me.

  “Has he found the killer?” Mrs. Smart asked, her voice low but hopeful. “I’d love to have this mess cleaned up before the show begins. Otherwise the reporters will focus on Viktor’s death instead of the lovely animals and humans that make my husband’s pageant special.”

  “Soon,” I said. “Jack’s working hard, and I’m doing all I can to help.”

  Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that’s true,” she told Mrs. Smart. “Lacy frequently goes above and beyond, so long as I haven’t asked her to do it.”

  I pointed a droll expression at my mother.

  “What do you think of this place for the NPP?” Mom asked, ignoring my look. “I think it will do, don’t you? We can use the space outside for the larger animals’ performances. The gardens will make for fantastic photos.”

  “I like it,” I said.

  Mom smiled. “Thank you.” She clasped her hands together at her
waist, looking more pleased than I’d seen her in some time. “I’ve invited Mrs. Smart to join me for breakfast at the Ruby Slipper Wednesday morning. Maybe you’d like to join us,” she said.

  Mrs. Smart smiled. “Oh, please do. I’d love to hear more about your adventures as an amateur sleuth.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Mom.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’re the one who insists on being the Garden District’s Nancy Drew. Now, can you make it to breakfast or not?”

  I sighed. I loved the Ruby Slipper. They had a dish called Shrimp Boogaloo Benedict that made my mouth water. Sautéed gulf shrimp and a creole tomato sauce served over fried green tomatoes and a buttermilk biscuit. I moaned a little at the thought. The dish also came with two poached eggs, and I made myself sick trying to finish it all every time. Sadly, I already had plans for Wednesday. “I wish I could, but Scarlet asked me to help out at a booth for Carter’s law firm that morning.”

  “A booth?” Mom asked. I could see the wheels in her brain spinning in search of something she’d forgotten. “Have the Hawthornes decided to get involved with the NPP?” Her gaze rose over my head several inches as a pair of long arms curled around my middle.

  I relaxed easily against him, not needing to see his face to recognize my sneak hugger’s gentle hold or enchanting presence. “Chase Hawthorne,” I said in my slowest southern drawl. “Are you following me?”

  “No, ma’am, Miss Lacy,” he answered with obnoxious formality, “I do believe I’m simply drawn to you.”

  Mom squeaked with pleasure, then patted his cheek. “You are still full of mischief, I see. Has been since he was a little nugget,” she told Mrs. Smart, who looked less than enthusiastic.

  Chase moved around to my side and scooped one of my hands into his, knowing I wouldn’t jerk away or pinch him in public. He lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckles.

  I shook my head at him, but couldn’t stop the smile budding on my lips, so I rolled my eyes instead.

  Mom beamed. “So, Chase, tell me all about your family’s plans to get involved this week. I hear you’re setting up a table and Lacy’s helping Scarlet with the details.”

  Chase’s eyes widened. A sly grin curled over his lips. “Is that so?” he asked me.

  “Yes.” I answered Chase but looked at Mom. “I’m helping with the table, but we won’t be here. Scarlet’s running a water station in Jackson Square for San Fermin en Nueva Orleans.”

  Mom’s smile fell flat. “The running of the bulls. Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “You know I can’t say no to Scarlet,” I said, wiggling my hand free of Chase’s grip. I curled my fingers around the crook of his elbow instead.

  “You just said no to me about breakfast,” Mom complained. “Would it kill you to say no to someone else for a change?”

  “She tells me no all the time,” Chase said, “if that makes you feel any better.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes on me. “It doesn’t.”

  “I only said no to you because I’d already said yes to Scarlet,” I argued.

  Mrs. Smart frowned. “Did you say bulls?”

  Chase grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Though these bulls aren’t like the ones in Pamplona. These are roller derby girls. They dress in red with little horns on their helmets, and they carry whiffle ball bats.”

  I squeezed his elbow, hoping to silently communicate shut up before my mother blew a gasket. She was already mad that I would miss her breakfast to be there. She didn’t need Mrs. Smart to hear the details.

  “The event raises a lot of money every year,” Chase said, smoothly changing gears. “This year’s proceeds will go to the Animal Rescue of New Orleans.”

  Mrs. Smart turned a curious expression on my mother. I wasn’t sure if she had any more questions, but she wouldn’t find answers with Mom. I could see in Mom’s flat expression that she wouldn’t say another word on the subject. She’d simply pack this information away with all the other unpleasant things she pretended didn’t exist.

  I hung back when Mom led the group away.

  Chase swung around to face me. “How are you holding up?”

  I could see the deep concern in his eyes. Scarlet must’ve filled him in on last night’s threat. “I’m okay. Is that why you’re here? Checking in on me?”

  He squinted. “Would you be impressed if I was?”

  I smiled. “Why are you really here?”

  “Well, your tip about the bear in Armstrong Park paid out yesterday. Big Splash was down there with a parrot that had escaped. Witnesses say he tracked it all the way to the park, where it eventually collided with a big office building window. The bird’s wing was damaged, and he won’t be able to perform in the pageant, but he’ll heal in time. Your father patched him up last night, and the bird is staying there another day or two. Meanwhile, Big Splash is back on track for tomorrow night.”

  “The bird’s a cusser,” I said. “I heard him when I stopped by my folks’ place for pancakes.”

  He lifted his gaze in the direction Mom had gone. “You guys had pancakes?”

  I laughed. “So, you’re here to check on the dog?”

  Chase’s smile opened wide. “Actually, I’m here on business. It seems that Sue Li told everyone what a great job I did bringing Big Splash and the parrot back and how much I’m helping her with her custody issues, and now I’ve got pet owners calling the office and asking for me by name. They all want me to represent them in pet custody cases or to draw up wills with instructions for the care and provisions of their animals in the case of their deaths.”

  I barked a laugh. “Chase Hawthorne, Pet Attorney. Almost makes those long painful years at that fancy Ivy League school worthwhile.”

  “Almost,” he said, “and it ticks my dad off, so that’s nice too.”

  I slid my palm back over the crook of his arm and turned toward the sounds of howling cats and bird chatter. “I need to make sure everyone in need of a costume adjustment gets it before tomorrow’s big opening ceremony,” I said. “Then I need to figure out where I’m supposed to go and what I’m supposed to do when I get here tomorrow night. Walk with me?”

  He bowed his head and smiled. “Anywhere.”

  We made our way through the clutch of humans and animals, some practicing their acts, others enjoying a bit of downtime before the dress rehearsal began.

  I helped cats with hats and shih tzus with tutus. Repaired the seams of sequined flapper dresses on felines and buttoned pinafores on poodles while Chase handed out his business cards with reckless abandon and a heaping helping of old-fashioned Louisiana charm.

  Just before my fingers went completely numb from the endless hand-stitching, I reached the end of my work and moved onto the veranda to wait for Chase. A pair of raven-haired twins had latched onto him, and they seemed to be interested in more than his legal representation.

  The gardens were eerily quiet outside the busy building. Five chairs had been erected before a long glass-top table with a little sign taped to the top. JUDGES was written on the paper in hectic black scrawl.

  I pulled out the middle chair and took a seat, enjoying the muggy heat of evening as it warmed my skin and loosened the tension in my muscles.

  An extra-large easel stood on the far side of the beautiful brick patio. The paper attached to it simply said VIKTOR. Massive marble urns in various heights flanked the easel, and I could only assume there would be a giant portrait of him on display for the opening ceremony tomorrow night. I was wildly thankful to know he wasn’t in any of the urns. More likely, the body hadn’t even had time to be looked at by the coroner yet. I’d learned over the past year, with great disappointment, that unlike on my favorite television shows, details were slow coming back from labs, especially when I was in a hurry.

  The chair beside me scraped over fancy brick pavers as Chase took a seat and passed me a bottle of water. “It’s beautiful out here.”

  “Indeed.” I cast a smile at him and uncapped the water. “Thanks.”


  He winked.

  “Mom made me a judge,” I said, tapping a fingernail to the paper sign on the table. Part of me still hoped it wasn’t true, but being there, sitting at the judges’ table, made it impossible not to think about.

  “I heard,” he said brightly. “Nervous?”

  Considering I knew nothing about the pet pageant world and some of the owners had put their entire life savings on the line in hopes of winning? “Yes.”

  Chase laughed softly. “Come on now. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re probably thinking you’re not qualified for the job and you don’t know what to do, but I’ve got some news for you.”

  I turned my chin slightly, daring a look in Chase’s direction. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He fixed me with the easy smile I envied. “You might not realize it, but you’re a bit of a celebrity around these parts. Half the district’s pets are wearing your designs and the others are damn jealous that they aren’t. You love animals. Always have. You know enough about their health, safety, training, and general well-being to take over this pageant, and you are more than qualified to be a judge. Just read the little information packet they’re passing out so that you’ll know what to score the acts on specifically, and you’re golden. Remember how great we did at judging that dance competition last fall?”

  I’d been a total mess judging that competition, but no one had died or ever mentioned my ineptitude, so when he said it like that, it didn’t seem like I had as much to worry about.

  I tipped my head against him. “Thanks, Chase.”

  He wound a long arm around my shoulders and dragged my chair against his, then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Anytime.”

  Jack strode into view and stopped on the other side of our table. “Hawthorne,” he said. “Lacy.”