Gone, Kitty, Gone

by Eileen Watkins

  “That’s an idea. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t work so well with grooming people’s pets.”

  “Ah, but now that you’ve got the van, you can at least go out to your customers. Even pick up their cats and bring them in to board.”

  “True. And then give them little teeny earplugs!”

  We wound up our short visit with that laugh, but Dawn hadn’t completely forgotten the dangers that lurked at the expo. As I headed out to my van, she told me, “Good luck—and be careful.”

  Chapter 13

  Because of the traffic lined up to enter the convention center parking garage, I decided to approach from a different direction that morning. My new route took me past the anti-cat-show demonstrators, whose numbers seemed to be holding at around half a dozen, a mix of men and women. The police must have warned them away from the hotel entrance, because they kept to a small patch of park across the street. Stopped at a light, I had more of a chance to study them and recognized a familiar tall, athletic silhouette with a thick braid down her back.

  What’s Grumpy Glenda doing out here? Yeah, she probably believes in their cause, but wouldn’t she be better off staffing the FOCA table with Chris and actually arranging pet adoptions?

  The light changed, and I had to move on. While parking on the plaza, though, I remembered Chris complaining that Glenda kept leaving her post with no explanation and spending long stretches AWOL. Maybe to check in with the demonstrators? Even to phone them, she might want to go someplace where Chris couldn’t overhear.

  And Glenda disapproved of Jaki for having a purebred cat and carrying him around “like a fashion accessory” everywhere she went.

  To minimize stress for our last demo, Becky pressed Ray back into service. While she and I prepped the Persian mix to meet his audience, I told her what I had just seen.

  “I don’t want to suspect a fellow animal lover,” I said, “but is it possible Glenda or another protestor could have grabbed Gordie? Thinking that they were rescuing him from being ‘exploited’ by Jaki?”

  The idea that a fellow FOCA volunteer could be involved obviously disturbed Becky, and while laying out the grooming tools, she halted with a comb in midair. “Glenda sure has been acting mysteriously ever since she came to the shelter, and I have gotten the sense that working there doesn’t quite satisfy her activist urges. But even if she and her pals conspired to steal the cat, I can’t see them wooing Jaki all of this time and insisting on meeting with her. What would be the point?”

  “To lecture her on the error of her ways? Or even to hold her for ransom and make some kind of demand?”

  Becky’s head-shake was slow and thoughtful. “I don’t know. If they were trying to shut down a lab that did animal testing or make some other big statement, maybe. But Jaki’s just a singer, and Gordie’s her personal pet. Seems a lot for them to go through for not much reason.”

  While I did not rule out the possibility of animal-rights fanaticism, I agreed that the notes and e-mails to Jaki had a more personal tone. “If the protestors took her cat, the stalker might just have heard about that and decided to exploit it to get close to her,” I reasoned. “Which would mean we’re dealing with two different culprits.”

  I told Becky about the reading I’d done the previous evening to try to understand the motives of the killer cat thief. She came to pretty much the same conclusion as I had.

  “Maybe the cops should be looking further back, at people Jaki met earlier in her life,” she said. “She’s been performing since she was a kid. Talent shows in grade school, plays in high school. That sitcom Too Cool for School, when she was in her late teens . . .”

  I paused in my preparations to stare at my helper. “How do you know all this? Maybe you’re her stalker!”

  My platinum-haired assistant laughed. “I’m not, I swear. I only had a general idea of her background up to now, but I did some research last night, too. There are lots of articles and interviews online. If the stalker says the two of them have ‘a history, ’ it could be anybody. Even someone she beat out for the lead in some high school musical.”

  “That’s true. But it makes finding them even harder.”

  “Unless they’ve already bothered her and her family in the past. From what Jaki and her father told you, that could be the case.”

  “I expect Bonelli and her guys are already looking for those kinds of connections,” I said, “but I can mention it to her. If she isn’t mad at me over the amateur profiling job I sent her last night.”

  I had ten minutes before the demo, so I gave Mark a quick call and asked how the pit bull was doing.

  “I think we saved him,” he said, in a tone of relief. “I was there until midnight but got him stabilized. Poor guy had a concussion, broken ribs . . . made me want to go out and do the same thing to his owner. Of course, we still have no idea who dumped him next to the highway.”

  A felt a fresh surge of pride and love for my significant other. “He’s lucky someone brought him to the clinic and that he had you to patch him up.”

  “He was overdue for some luck. Hey, we had some police action on the concourse this morning. You know anything about it?”

  “Not a thing,” I told him. “What happened?”

  “Right after Dave and I got here, we saw the cops roust some seedy-looking guy. When he started struggling and yelling, they slapped handcuffs on him and hauled him away. I only saw it from a distance, so I’ve got no idea what he did.”

  “Very interesting! I’ll check with Bonelli after our demo. See if it has anything to do with the Jaki situation.”

  “Let me know what you find out. Be great if they caught the guy.”

  “It sure would.”

  Hanging up, I just had time to pass this information on to Becky before we opened the van doors to greet the handful of folks clustered outside. As I’d expected, the audience was smaller on a Sunday morning and after we’d already done our “show” three times before. As usual, Ray took the public grooming more in stride than had any of the other cats. Still, I included in my talk plenty of tips on how to handle tougher customers. While addressing the group, I continued to keep my eyes peeled, but I spotted no suspicious characters or activity. Mark had the advantage over me today in that department.

  Could the cops really have Jaki’s stalker in custody? Would they get him to confess to killing the guard and to reveal where he’d stashed Gordie?

  Halfway through our presentation, I heard my muted phone buzz. After we’d finished the demo, answered questions, and given out business cards, I finally checked on the caller’s info.

  Bonelli.

  “Good morning,” she greeted me cheerfully. “I just wanted to thank you, Cassie, for your helpful tips.”

  I’d been holding my breath, and at hearing her upbeat tone, I dared to let it out. “You’re welcome. I was afraid you’d think I was overstepping. I’m sure you guys can do your own criminal profiling.”

  “Oh, that . . . Sorry, I just skimmed your e-mail, didn’t have time to read it thoroughly. I’m talking about the leads you gave us during the meeting yesterday. We picked up the Marry me! guy this morning. Actually, he isn’t wearing the shirt today, but a couple of the vendors knew who you meant and pointed him out to us. Name is Mason Reilly.”

  “Was he on the concourse? Mark saw someone being arrested there—said he put up a bit of a fight.”

  “Yeah, he mouthed off at Gardiner and LoMonaco. They started by just asking him some questions, but he demanded to know what it was about, then shoved LoMonaco. So they brought him downtown.”

  “You’ve got him at the station? Is he the guy?”

  “Can’t tell yet. He wants a lawyer. We’ve got his driver’s license, though, so we should be able to find out his family situation and where he works, for starters.”

  Whether he has a high-tech job, for example. I thought of Dion’s insight that coders tended to be eccentric and anti-authority. From both his appearance and behavior, Reilly did sou
nd as if he fit that description.

  While I’d been on the phone, Becky had been chatting with the members of our audience who’d lingered to ask questions. Now she returned Ray to the drying cage and tidied up inside the van, vacuuming up fur and throwing soiled towels in the hamper. She didn’t exactly eavesdrop on my conversation with Bonelli, but I could tell she was eager to find out the latest news.

  The detective continued, “As for the female Jaki fans, my guys didn’t even have to go hunting for them. Dria and Ashley sashayed up to Gardiner last night and asked if he knew why the concert had been postponed.”

  “I assume he didn’t tell them the truth,” I said.

  “Gave them the official lie, that Jaki was under the weather but might be recovered by tonight. He got their full names and asked if they’d been at Jaki’s interview Friday. Dria claimed they’d been there, toward the back of the room, when the lights went out. She said they got scared and ran for the doors right away. Gardiner tried to steer the conversation around to Jaki’s cat, to see if the girls knew he was missing without being told. Both seemed to get spooked then, and found an excuse to move on. He had no legit reason to detain them.”

  “He saw only two of the girls?” I asked. “I wonder if Lexi is still keeping a low profile.”

  “He’s keeping a lookout for the two others.” The detective paused. “Meanwhile, we did get an outright confession from one person.”

  I’d been swigging water from a bottle and almost choked. “What? And you didn’t lead with that?”

  “Not to the cat theft or the murder. But the hotel’s IT manager figured out what he did wrong and admitted it to his bosses and to us.”

  Bottle in hand, I perched on a stool next to my grooming table. “This ought to be good.”

  “I don’t know much about how all of this works, of course. But he said a couple of days before the expo, he got a very official-looking e-mail that his password had been breached and he should create a new one. He knew that sometimes hackers send out messages like that to phish for information, but he tried to verify it and said it appeared to check out. He’s fairly new on the job, and for weeks now, his bosses have been stressing the need for increased vigilance and security during the expo. So he genuinely believed someone had hacked his password to make trouble for the hotel. He created a new one . . . and now he figures it automatically went back to the hacker.”

  “And gave that person full access to the hotel’s computer system,” I finished.

  “I almost felt sorry for the IT guy. I sort of hope he doesn’t get fired. He’s in his forties, got kids in college.” Bonelli wasn’t normally a soft touch, but with two teenage sons herself, she probably could identify.

  “Whatever happens, I’m sure it’s not a mistake that he’ll make again,” I said.

  When a beeping sounded on the line, Bonelli told me, “Oops, that’s Newton. Probably wanting to know if it’s safe for his guest star to go onstage tonight. As if I can guarantee that for sure.”

  I freed her to take the call and wished her good luck.

  Becky scrutinized my face with such burning curiosity that I had to bring her up to speed. Hearing the latest, she looked relieved.

  “Now if the cops can just make this Mason guy tell them where he put Gordie, we might be home free,” she said.

  “Here’s hoping.” Privately, though, I worried the case might not be solved that easily. With a nod toward the van’s door, I asked, “Anything suspicious happening out there?”

  “Suspicious, no. But a nice middle-aged couple acted very interested in adopting our boy Ray.” She smiled. “I told them they could drop by the FOCA shelter any time to start the process, and they promised they would.”

  “Fantastic,” I said. “After all, that was our whole purpose in being here, originally. To find homes for some of these critters.”

  “Yeah, with all the other drama, we shouldn’t lose sight of that. I just hope they don’t come by on a day when Glenda is there—she might scare them away.” Becky opened the cage door and stroked Ray’s soft, golden fur. “Since he’s been such a good boy, guess I should get him back to the shelter now, so he can relax. I may come back here for lunch, though, just to see how things are going.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to meet up with you, Mark, and Chris,” I told her. “First, I’m going to go check on Mom and Harry. See if Looli is still racking up the ribbons.”

  I locked up the van, crossed the plaza, and entered the hotel lobby. I’d just passed through the automatic doors when my phone rang again. I stopped to check it, and I got a start.

  Jaki Natal herself was calling me on her private line. Things must either be very good . . . or very bad.

  “Hi, Jaki, what’s up?” So cool, like we were BFFs from way back.

  She spoke in a low, rather breathless voice. “Cassie, everyone wants me to give up on finding Gordie. They’re insisting I leave the hotel and fly back to LA. I can’t do that—I know he’s still in danger. Please, you’ve gotta help me. You’re the only one who understands!”

  Chapter 14

  This time, the towering bodyguard had to knock on the door of Jaki’s suite and ask if I was expected. But Mira let me in and steered me toward the bar near the door. Jaki, Hector, and Perry sat around the big table by the window, deep in a serious confab. I got the idea that we needed to leave them alone for a while to hash things out.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Mira asked. “Last time, you said you like chamomile tea.”

  I guessed that a good personal assistant needed to remember such things. “I’ll take coffee this time, thanks. With milk and sweetener.”

  “Stevia okay?”

  Figured that the Bradburne—or at least Jaki—would have a choice of sugar-free options on hand. “Perfect.”

  Mira made herself a cup, too, and I complimented her on her oh-so-chic haircut. We speculated for a minute on whether I could pull off something similar, skirting the issue of what it would cost in a top-notch salon.

  “Being self-employed, I generally groom my own fur,” I told her with a laugh.

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. “You could splurge once. Since you’ve got the skills, you might be able to figure out how the stylist cut it and maintain it yourself after that.”

  I remembered that Mira had been the source of a lot of inside info for Becky and Chris, and decided to take advantage of this opportunity. “So, how did you come to be Jaki’s assistant?”

  “I just kind of fell into it, in high school when she first started getting a lot of gigs. I was one year ahead of her and thought of going into theater myself. But not as a performer—I was more interested in costumes, props, the behind-the-scenes stuff. Of course, even those jobs are hard to get, and they pay peanuts.”

  I nodded. I’d heard that live theater, even on Broadway, wasn’t exactly a gold mine for anyone in terms of employment.

  “So I started helping Jaki with her costumes and makeup, just for fun, and running errands she was too busy to do,” Mira explained. “We always got along well, and the arrangement just worked for both of us. When she went to LA, she asked me to come along as a paid assistant.” The lady in black slid onto the bar stool next to mine and leaned confidentially closer. “Frankly, almost everyone else around her—even Hector, sometimes—deals with her as Jaki Natal the performer. They want to make sure that she gets to the next gig on time, that she’s physically ready to go onstage, that kind of stuff.”

  “More of a business relationship,” I said.

  “Exactly. But she also needs a friend who’s more on her level. Somebody to be supportive when she doesn’t feel so well, or needs to gripe and let her hair down. She counts on me for that.” Mira dropped her gaze to her half-empty mug of coffee. “Might sound silly, but she counted on Gordie for that, too. He was almost like . . . What do they call it? Her emotional support animal.”

  “Yes, I got that feeling,” I said.

  “Heck, I miss the little guy, to
o. I took care of him as much as she did. I don’t mean that as a criticism. Jaki liked taking care of him, but she was just so busy that I usually ended up feeding him at least once a day, cleaning his pan, keeping track of his carrier, and brushing him if he was going somewhere that he’d be photographed.” Mira’s face and tone saddened again. “I still feel awful that I let her down on Friday. I should have kept track of where that guy went with the carrier, maybe even chased after him.”

  “And maybe he would have dealt with you the same way he did with the security guard!” I pointed out. “It might be lucky that you didn’t get in his way.”

  Mira frowned, as if she hadn’t considered that before. With a glance toward the table where the other three still quietly wrangled, she told me, “It’s just that I understand why this is driving Jaki so crazy. Gordie was—is—a really sweet, lovable cat. I just hope this guy hasn’t done anything to hurt him.”

  I broached what I supposed might be a sensitive subject. “Last time, when Hector suggested she take something to calm her down, Jaki said she didn’t want to ‘go down that road again.’ Has she had a problem in the past?” When Mira stiffened defensively, I assured her, “I’m not sniffing around for gossip—I’ll keep it confidential. I’m just trying to figure out if anyone has a hold like that over her.”

  “It was nothing. When all this fame first hit, she was getting offers from everywhere and going crazy trying to accept them all. Trying to please everybody. She got stressed, so of course somebody offered her some pills to keep her energy up for a concert, then another pill to help her sleep.... She got kind of dependent on that routine for a while. But Jaki’s got a good head on her shoulders. She saw what was happening, so she spent a couple of weeks at a clinic and got back on track.” Mira’s tone grew emphatic. “It was all prescription medicine, no street drugs, and she took it for just a little while. So, no, there isn’t anybody who’d ‘have a hold on her’ from those days.”

  Now I felt a little embarrassed for asking. “I just wondered, because it sounds, from some of the notes she’s gotten, like this person thinks she’s under a lot of pressure and wants to rescue her.”