by Molly Fitz
He leaned forward, making himself several inches shorter so he could look me right in the eye. “Prove it.” His words smacked of condescension. Not only did this guy think he was better than everyone else, but he also seemed to think I was worse. Infuriating.
“What? I can’t prove it beyond my word.”
He straightened back to full height. “Show me a business card or something.” Right, because it was impossible to create cards that read anything you wanted them to.
Case in point, Melvin pulled a stack of cards out of his pocket with a flourish and handed them around. “See, Melvin Mann, novelist. Now show me yours?”
“I don’t have any business cards on me. Sorry.” I would have turned out my pants pockets, if I had any. He seemed the kind of guy to appreciate overwrought gestures, like purple prose in real life.
He jabbed a finger at me so hard it would probably be a bruise. “Ah-ha! See, I knew you were just pretending.”
My father rushed to my side and stared at Melvin so ferociously that the other man couldn’t help but take a step back.
“Look, we can stand here arguing until the killer finds us, too,” my dad said, not taking his hard eyes off the writer for a second. “Or we can work together to solve this thing.”
“Oooh, I like that,” Melvin said, steepling his fingers in a far too sinister fashion for my liking. “This is wonderful inspiration for the mystery story arc of my novel.”
I held in a sigh, an eyeroll, and a groan all at once. “Earlier you were asking me about suspicious characters, so why don’t you go find some?”
“I wasn’t asking about the characters. I have my characters on lock, thank you very much. I was asking about synonyms.”
“Just do what she says, JD Salinger,” my father growled, taking another threatening step forward.
Melvin stood in place; a smile snaked across his face. “You think calling me by classic novelists’ names is an insult, but it’s really quite the opposite.”
Dad did not hold back the choice words he had in response to that.
I turned to Dan, ready to put this whole macho showdown—or whatever the heck it was—to rest. “Can you go check in with your bosses? See if we can get the train moving again or the police sent to our location. Something. Anything to help.”
“Can do,” he said, offering a thumbs up and a smile. At least he was more cooperative than Melvin Mann. The haughty writer would be a liability in this investigation, no doubt.
“Great. Thanks so much.” I pushed them both toward the door. “Oh, and one last thing. Please keep the other passengers in the dark about this. No need to start a panic.”
“In the dark,” my mom said with a chuckle. “Good one.”
I swear, even if she and Nan weren’t related by blood, sometimes it was simply impossible to ignore the similarities they shared. Mom was far more pragmatic and a lot more normal than either Nan or me, but she belonged with us all the same.
We were a family, and nothing—not even newly exposed secrets—could change that.
Chapter Ten
After Dan and Melvin exited, I closed the door behind them and twisted the lock to ensure those of us who remained had some privacy.
“Mom, Dad, could you continue to search the room? I’m going to catch up with the cats,” I said once I could no longer hear the departing men’s footfalls in the corridor.
“Oh, sure, honey,” Mom answered for them both. “We’ll stay out of your way, Miss Pet Whisperer P.I.” She was the one who had come up with that name for Octo-Cat’s and my operation and was immensely proud of it—even though I secretly hated it. Talk about parading my secret for all to see! I pretended it was just a gimmick, but I had to wonder if the unusual name was the reason our firm hadn’t received a single paying case to date.
“Let’s go to the bed so we aren’t in the way,” I told the cats, but it was my dad who moved in the direction I had dictated.
I laughed awkwardly. He hadn’t gotten used to this yet. Well, he was about to become very familiar with how things went when I was working a case with animal assistance.
“Oh, you meant…” He flashed his light toward Grizabella, and the startled feline hissed.
“Well, you have fun with that, then,” he finished, backing slowly away.
“Why did you hiss at him?” I asked the Himalayan, not bothering to hide my irritation as I narrowed my eyes at her.
“He shone that bright light right in my eyes. It hurt!”
Ouch. Okay.
“Sorry, he didn’t mean to.” Again I wondered if I should pet her as a way of offering comfort, and again I decided against it. I had a sneaking suspicion that Grizabella didn’t much like me, and I’d hate to actually be proven right while our investigation was still ongoing.
We settled on the bed. Given the way the comforter lay completely smooth, I guessed she hadn’t tried going to sleep before meeting with her murderer. The cats each lay on a pillow, leaving me to sit farther down the mattress.
“Okay, what did you learn while you were out there?” I had no light with me but could make out their vague shapes in the spill-off from Mom and Dad’s.
“Nothing,” Grizabella answered for the both of them. She sounded almost bored.
“But you followed Dad the whole way, right?”
“We did,” Octo-Cat assured me. “But we found nothing that drew our attention.”
Well, I hadn’t expected this. I was sure my kitty reconnaissance would turn off at least something helpful. “What about anyone who looked, sounded, or smelled familiar, Grizz?”
A threatening growl rose in the dark. “Don’t call me Grizz. My name is Grizabella, and no, I didn’t notice anything. Just as I told you before. This is hard for me, so please pay attention the first time around.”
Yeesh, she sure made it hard to want to help her.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she was grieving and probably even more startled by Rhonda’s murder than either me or Octo-Cat. We’d investigated deaths before, but Grizabella had never had to deal with anything like this.
Why would she? Why would anyone?
“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping she’d believe the sincerity in my words. I truly did feel sorry for everything she’d gone through already, everything she’d still need to go through before this case was settled. “I just have a hard time believing this was a simple robbery. Someone wanted Rhonda dead, and I want to know why.”
“Look at this!” Mom called from the bathroom, appearing in the doorway. From behind her, Dad shone his light on the object in her hands. An ornately carved wooden jewelry box.
“I don’t think it was a robbery,” she mumbled, proving that we were on the exact same page. “Otherwise, why would they leave this behind? There’s got to be thousands in diamonds and other precious stones in here.”
Each necklace, bracelet, and pair or earrings she held up was more dazzling than the last. Many of the pieces boasted gigantic sapphires. And again I wondered if she chose the blue to match her cat’s eyes.
“It’s all silver,” I pointed out. “But the necklace she wore when I met her in the dining car was gold and pearl.”
Mom searched the ornate box, shaking her head. “Well, there’s nothing like that in here.”
Grizabella spoke from across the bed. “The necklace she wore today was her most prized possession. An important family heirloom handed down from her grandmother to her.”
“So whoever took the necklace wanted the heirloom, but not the other, arguably even more valuable, pieces,” I summed up for the humans who couldn’t speak cat, rubbing my chin as I tried to make sense of all this.
“Or the killer struck for a completely different reason, saw an opportunity, and stole the necklace she was wearing but didn’t think to search the room for other valuables,” Mom ventured.
Dad nuzzled her from behind and kissed her neck. “I love seeing you in action. You’re so smart.”
“Not the time, guys,
” I spat, quickly looking away. Despite being an adult, I still hated seeing my mom and dad’s flagrant and very public displays of affection.
“There is literally a dead body right there,” I motioned toward Rhonda, hoping my parents turned their light to me in enough time to read the disapproving expression on my face.
“Sorry. We’ll just keep searching,” Dad said as Mom turned to take the jewelry box back into the bathroom.
“Grizabella,” Octo-Cat said gently. “What can you tell us about your life with Rhonda? What kinds of things did you do? What kinds of places did you go?”
Good questions, especially since asking Grizabella who would have wanted her owner dead would likely cause the Himalayan to either close right up or get overly emotional again.
The cat answered with a smile in her voice. “Rhonda was a very kind mistress. We traveled constantly, usually by train. Sometimes on a first-class jet. Mostly we went to cat shows, but sometimes we went places simply to take pictures of me amidst new scenery. I think Rhonda had a hard time staying put in one place because it reminded her of how lonely she’d let herself become.”
Oh, this was good stuff. If Grizabella was willing to expand upon it, I was sure we’d learn something important.
“What do you mean?” I asked softly.
“I’ve been with Rhonda since I was a very small kitten. She’s all I’ve ever known for my five human years in this world. Still, in all that time, she’s never had visitors, never gone on dates, never done much of any of the things the humans do in television shows and movies.”
“I love watching TV, too,” Octo-Cat butted in. “Do you like Law & Order? It’s my favorite.”
“Heavens, no,” the other cat answered in disgust. “I much prefer love stories to those with blood and gore.”
Octo-Cat stumbled over his response. “Oh, yeah. Right. Have you seen When Harry Met Sally? I really like the part when she—”
“Octavius,” I interrupted, assuming he preferred his fancy name in the presence of our refined acquaintance. “This really isn’t the time for that. We need to hear more about Rhonda. That’s what’s important now.”
“Thank you,” Grizabella said, surprising me with her politeness and the fact she’d acknowledged I’d done something right.
“Normally I love speaking about such frivolities, but normally my human is safe and sound beside me. Oh, my poor mistress…” Her words fell away, but then she shrieked the same terrible cry that first brought us to this car.
“And oh no! What will become of me, now that she’s gone?”
I wished I had an answer for her, but unfortunately I knew even less than Grizabella did—especially if Rhonda had been as big a loner as she claimed.
Chapter Eleven
Grizabella yowled again.
“What’s wrong?” Mom and Dad cried in unison.
“It’s okay,” I assured them. “Well, I mean, it’s not exactly okay. She just realized she doesn’t know where she’ll go now that her owner’s passed.”
“Oh, poor sweet thing.” Mom crossed the room along the edge and then petted the mourning Himalayan. “A nice, gorgeous girl like you will find a new home in no time.”
Grizabella stopped shrieking but moved away from Mom’s attempts to pet her. “I don’t want a new home. I want my life with Mistress.”
My heart broke for the newly orphaned feline. Since discovering Rhonda’s body, we’d only worked toward solving her murder. None of us had taken any time to see how Grizabella was coping.
“Anyone could see how much Rhonda loved you. Heck, she even made a fan account for you on Instagram, and it has more than two-thousand followers.”
“Yes, but those are fans,” the cat responded with disdain. “I don’t know a single one of them personally.”
“Angela will figure something out,” Octo-Cat promised, purring to show her it would all be okay. “She always does.”
The doorknob rattled and then someone pounded against the door, bringing the tender exchange to an immediate halt.
“Hey,” Dan yelled in his squeaky, pubescent voice. “Why is this thing locked?”
The frantic pounding started again, and Dad ran over to let him in. “Sorry about that!”
“We didn’t want anyone stumbling in by accident,” I explained, leaving out the part about taking the extra measure to protect my secret. “What’s up? What did your bosses say?”
Dan looked back toward the door as if it had personally slighted him, then turned back toward us with lantern held high. “The police are on their way, but it could be a while given our remote location. Figures, right?”
“Yeah,” I said amicably as my eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness of his lantern-style flashlight again. “Anything else? Do they know what stopped the train?”
He shook his head sadly and in obvious fear. “Only that it’s been tampered with somehow. Whoever it was knew what he was doing, ensuring it would be next to impossible to get moving again without an expert mechanic familiar with this kind of train.”
Crud.
Dan’s expression lightened and he rocked his lantern playfully. “I do have good news, though.”
Octo-Cat climbed onto my lap, and I drew strength from his calming presence. Seriously, this case was so different than usual. We hadn’t fought one bit. Perhaps we were evolving.
“Well, out with it already,” Mom demanded. She only liked dramatic pauses when she was the one making them.
“The lights will be much easier to fix,” Dan said, properly chastised. “Someone cut a few wires, but we’ve already found a passenger who says he knows how to fix it. He’s working on it now.”
“That is good news,” Mom agreed, then flashed her phone at me. “And a lucky break for those who weren’t responsible enough to charge up before the journey.”
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. A migraine wasn’t exactly what I needed right now. “So at least our circumstances aren’t getting worse,” I reminded everyone.
“You girls stay in here,” Dad instructed, moving toward the door. “Dan, bring that big light of yours and come with me.”
I chased after him, refusing to be left behind. “Excuse me. None of that macho nonsense. Wherever you’re going, I’m coming, too. So spill.”
Dad sighed and placed his hand against the wall in defeat. “Why do you always have to assume it’s something like that? I chose Dan because he has the best light and we’re going to need it.”
Yeah, there was no way I would be sitting out the next leg of our investigation. I turned to the young red-headed worker and held my hands out in supplication. “Dan, may I please borrow your light?”
He reluctantly handed it over, and I turned back to Dad with a giant smile of triumph. “You were saying?”
He chuckled at let out a low whistle. “You are just like your mother sometimes. C’mon, we’re going to go nose around outside and see what we can find.”
“Will you stay with my wife?” Dad asked Dan, and they shared a manly nod.
“I’m coming, too!” Octo-Cat called, jumping off the bed and joining us at the door.
“And I’m staying,” Grizabella said, crossing her paws in front of her.
“Let’s go, Dad,” I said, lifting the lantern high as I followed him to the end of the car. We found an exit toward the outside there, but it appeared to be jammed up tight. In the next car over, we found the door already slightly ajar, having swung back into the car a couple inches.
“Hopefully, somebody just needed a cigarette break really, really bad,” Dad told me with a shrug and then pulled the door open the rest of the way so we could exit into the tunnel.
Very little space lay to either side of the train. Dad and I could walk side by side, but not comfortably. The stone walls pressed in close as we studied the gravel beside the tracks. Add in the intense darkness and it was almost like we’d been buried alive. Creepy.
Dad stopped walking and put out an arm to stop me, too
. With his other hand, he pointed a few feet ahead. “Blood.”
Sure enough, dark red droplets stained the light scattering of stones and pebbles. Even creepier.
“Did you see any earlier?” Dad asked, sweeping his phone light back toward the exit we used.
I shook my head soundlessly, then continued forward to see if the blood might form a trail.
“Stay by me,” Dad called out, a quiver moving through his strong voice. “We don’t know how close the murderer still is. For all we know, he could be right here hiding in the tunnel just a few feet away. And I’m not risking losing you.”
I gulped and returned to his side.
Dad hooked his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close. “We do this together. Understand? You have my back, and I’ll have yours.”
“Awww. That’s great for you guys. I’ll go check things out on my own, though,” Octo-Cat said, trotting off in the direction I’d just abandoned.
It worried me, him going off on his own, but what reason would a murderer have to hurt a random cat? There’s no way the culprit could know that Octo-Cat was investigating this crime.
Dad and I moved slowly, using my light to illuminate our path and his to search the gravel. “I’m not seeing any more blood,” he said. “Are you?”
I’d never been so disappointed not to find evidence of a violent crime. At least if we had a proper trail to follow, we’d know that the killer had left the train—and we may even be able to follow the drops to find him.
“No,” I answered with a racking sigh. “Someone was definitely out here, and given how close the exit and the blood are to Rhonda’s room, I’m guessing it was our killer. But I don’t think he was injured. It’s probably a bit of Rhonda’s blood that dripped off his hands or something.”
“But if he had the blood on his hands, wouldn’t it be on the door?” Dad pointed out, continuing to move the tiny point of light from his phone around the path. “And also, why are we assuming the killer is a he?”
“Touché,” I said. “It could definitely be a woman. Good thought, though. Let’s go check out that door.”
