Hairless Harassment (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 3)

by Molly Fitz

  “Nan, that’s wonderful!” I cried, dancing with her now. “Since we’re all friends, you may even be able to visit your old house from time to time.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said, her eyes glinting with untold mischief as she transitioned into a fast foxtrot that I had no hopes of replicating. “A happy ending for everyone.”

  A gentle rap sounded on the front door, drawing both of our attention.

  “I’ll get it,” I told Nan, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stilled her movements. “You stay with the banana bread. I want a piece as soon as it’s out of the oven.”

  “Roger that,” she said, offering me a salute for reasons I didn’t understand. Then again, if I understood even half of Nan’s schemes, I counted it a good day. So far we were off to a great start.

  I padded toward the foyer with bare feet, messy bed head, and a half-full mug of coffee. When I spied who was on the other side of the stained-glass windows, my heart screeched to a stop. Okay, not really, but it may as well have, given the absolute shock and horror I felt in that moment.

  Brock saw me before I was able to duck out of view and gave a friendly wave. There would be no retreating now. Oh, poop.

  I turned my back and wiped the sleep from my eyes, then put on my best closed-mouth smile and opened the door. “Good morning.”

  “I hope it’s not too early,” he said, looking me up and down as he assessed my hot pink pajama pants and spaghetti string tank top.

  “Nope, you’re right on time. Come on in. Nan!” I called back toward the kitchen. “Brock’s here and we’re going upstairs.”

  “Okay, boss!” she shouted back.

  Brock frowned and pressed his hand to the stair bannister, stopping in place. “Yeah, about that… Could you please not call me Brock anymore?”

  This surprised me so much I forgot about my desire to keep my mouth closed until I’d had the chance to brush. “What? Why not? Isn’t it your name?”

  He sucked air through his teeth before saying, “It is, but that name is so associated with the trial now, I kind of cringe every time I hear it.”

  That definitely made sense. The man had been accused of a double homicide, and for months everyone in Glendale was convinced of his guilt. I didn’t blame him for wanting some way to mark a fresh start.

  “Oh, of course. What should I call you instead?” I asked with another closed-mouth smile.

  He let out a giant sigh of relief. “How about Cal? Short for Calhoun, so it’s still my name, but it’s not tainted like the longer version.”

  “You’ve got it, Cal,” I said, then made a dorky, little clicking noise and pointed my finger at him like a fake gun. Really not cool.

  He seemed to find it endearing, though, because he laughed. “Thank you, Ang.”

  We headed upstairs to the room that served as both my future home library and the makeshift kitty prison. Octo-Cat stood stationed outside the door, appearing as if he hadn’t slept a wink all night. That would be like eschewing sleep for several days, had he been human. I shuddered to think at just how cranky he would be until our Sphynx visitors were released—or at least transferred to another prison.

  “Go get some sleep, you,” I told him in a cutesy voice, the kind a normal cat owner might use when talking to a normal cat.

  He yawned and stumbled off.

  After entering carefully to make sure no Sphynxes escaped in the process, I turned to Brock and explained, “This is my favorite room in the whole house. I want to build shelves right onto the walls, spruce up the floors, add some more lighting, and turn it into a library. What do you think?”

  “This is the perfect place for that,” he said, turning in a slow circle in the center of the room. “Hey, aren’t those the senator’s cats?” he asked upon spotting Jacques and Jillianne shivering in their favorite icy corner.

  “It’s a long story,” I said, moving back toward the door. “Could you maybe grab some measurements for me real quick? I’ll be back in five.”

  Once he agreed, I latched the door behind me and then raced to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and a toothbrush through my mouth. I also splashed some cold water on my face, but decided doing anything more would probably be overkill.

  “It shouldn’t be too much for me to do the work you’re looking for,” Brock—oops, Cal—said when I returned. He’d been standing by the window seat that looked out onto the beautifully landscaped backyard. You could just barely see the ocean beyond the tips of the trees, and it was a lovely sight to behold.

  “That’s great,” I said, joining him at the window and feeling a little shiver of excitement overtake me. Even with caffeine rushing through my system, I still found myself a bit tongue-tied with this gorgeous man so near. “How much, and when can you get started?”

  Cal told me a figure that made me a little sick to my stomach until he explained that this would include the custom-built shelving I needed to line my walls. After that, it seemed like a steal. I couldn’t believe that this prince would be building me my fantasy library.

  Dreams really did come true.

  We shook on it, and then he said, “It’s early enough that I can actually get started today. Like I said, not a lot of folks are lining up to hire me, given my recent history.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Cal Calhoun,” I said with a huge smile, thrilled that we’d be spending more time together. Partially because he’d be nearby in case of danger, and partially because I most definitely had the hots for him now. “Nan and I will both be around unpacking some boxes today. Just holler if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  “And, oh, Cal?” I had to keep saying his new name to get used to it. The more I said it, the more I liked it. It was uncomplicated and appealing, just like the man himself.

  “Yeah?” He removed the measuring tape he’d brought with him and let its long yellow tongue snap back into place.

  “Do mind the Sphynxes. They’re slippery little buggers,” I said, parroting the words Officer Bouchard had said to me just a couple days ago.

  And with that, I slipped out of the room and ran up to my tower to find the perfect outfit for casually running into my new crush later that day.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My phone started ringing aggressively while I was mid-shampoo. I shut the water off, grabbed my towel, and jumped out just in time to catch Charles before his call got routed to voicemail for a second time.

  “Hello?” I asked, dripping onto the cold tile floor. I pushed open the old window with a creak. At least that would let some warmth in here.

  “Angie, it’s me,” Charles said as if he somehow didn’t know that caller ID existed and was standard on all phones these days.

  “What’s up?” I asked, hugging my towel tighter around myself. Of course we’d be having this conversation while I was wet and naked. Knowing my luck, I’d slip on one of the many puddles forming below me, hit my head, get knocked unconscious, and then Brock—I mean, Cal—would have to bust through the door to save me. Maybe I’d even wake up with a second secret super power while I was at it.

  Okay, now I was wet, naked, and in a panic. I carefully lowered myself to sit on the edge of the tub while Charles explained the reason for his call. At least, if I fell from here, I’d have a shorter way to go before hitting the floor.

  “Sorry I didn’t call back yesterday.” I heard the unmistakable sound of a door shutting on his end of the call. He paused before explaining further, “Thompson took a couple days off for bereavement.”

  “For the senator?” I asked, not expecting this news about my workaholic boss.

  “Yup,” he said, sounding every bit as surprised as I felt. “Apparently the two of them were closer than any of us knew.”

  I gasped, almost losing my balance and scrambling not to fall. “Were they having an affair?”

  “Oh, c’mon,” Charles ground out. “Thompson and Harlow, really?”

  “Well, anything’s p
ossible,” I mumbled defensively.

  “That’s not what was going on,” he said with obvious irritation.

  That didn’t stop me from continuing my line of questioning. He had information, and I needed to know it sooner than later. “Then what was?” I demanded.

  “Get this,” Charles said, and I could just picture him smiling as he paced around his office. He so loved revealing shocking twists, the smoking gun. I wondered if that was what we had here now. “Harlow was planning on stepping down. She was grooming Thompson to run for election as her hand-picked successor.”

  “Thompson?” I exclaimed. “But he’s awful with people.” Not only did he insist on calling everyone by their last names, but he often openly criticized me and the other people at the firm. I knew it was all to protect our stellar reputation, but still. The thought of him as an elected politician representing my state made my stomach churn.

  “Maybe,” Charles said, apparently unwilling to badmouth the senior partner the way I was. “But there’s no denying he’s smart and, believe it or not, he and Harlow share a lot of the same political views, too.”

  “Like what?” I cried, still unable to believe what he’d just revealed.

  “They’ve been friends for a long time. In fact, they met more than thirty-five years ago when they were both doing grassroots work for the Save the Whales movement. Thompson said those were some of the best years of his life.”

  There was that Save the Whales thing again. Could it be important? Important enough to cost the good senator her life? And, if so, did that mean Thompson might be targeted next?

  “Charles?” I said, knowing I could trust him with this. “Do you think the senator might have been murdered for something to do with her environmental activism?”

  “Then or now?” he countered, and I could tell that big, beautiful brain of his was already thinking hard.

  “Either,” I said. “Is there anything you know that could give some insight into why somebody might have wanted her dead?”

  He sighed. “You know the police ruled her death an accident.”

  “Yeah, but I doubt you buy that, either.”

  “It is suspicious.” He thought for a moment before saying more. “How closely do you follow national politics?”

  “Not very,” I admitted. “I did some Googling on the senator and any recent pieces mentioning her, but nothing jumped out at me.”

  He chuckled. “Well, here’s a quick recap. Last week it was announced that a major oil company had petitioned to put in an access pipeline. It’s a new proposal, but people are worried about it. Most of it would run right through our state, even cutting off the corner of one of our national parks.”

  That sounded awful. I loved my home state for its natural beauty and proximity to the ocean just as much as the senator had. Some giant oil operation would take part of that away, and for what?

  “I can see why the senator wouldn’t have wanted that, given her deep love for the environment,” I told Charles.

  “It’s still got a while before it goes to vote, but Big Oil is lobbying hard to make it a reality. Their argument is that it would create jobs and bring us another much-needed local energy source, thus lessening our dependence on foreign oil.” He explained everything pedantically without a hint of how he felt about the proposal. Seeing as he was a recent transplant from California, I found myself wondering whether Charles sided with Big Oil or the national parks. I knew where I stood.

  “But the senator wouldn’t have been okay with the destruction of one of our national parks, I take it.”

  “She definitely wouldn’t have been, though it’s only about five-thousand acres and the pipeline proposal includes building a new protected park farther upstate.” Was he playing devil’s advocate for the sake of argument, or did he truly believe the pipeline was anything other than a disaster waiting to happen?

  I grew frustrated and let out a massive groan. “What’s the point of protecting it, though, if anyone with enough money can destroy it on a whim?”

  “I see what you’re saying, Angie. I do.” Charles sighed and paused for a moment. “But you have to understand, our checks and balances are put in place for a reason, and they work, too. It’s not a whim. If the pipeline is going to get approved, a majority of the senate needs to vote in its favor. And, as you know, Harlow was just one out of a hundred.”

  I ran my fingers over the soft edges of the towel. My skin was quickly moving toward dry as this conversation carried on, but my hair was still a shampoo-y mess. “So then why would the murderer single out Harlow?” I asked.

  Charles’s voice grew quieter, leading me to believe someone might be passing outside his door and that, for whatever his reasons, he wanted to keep this conversation private. “Let me once again remind you that we don’t know whether there was any foul play involved, but if there was, then there’d be a lot of reasons one might single out Harlow.”

  Oh, this was getting good. Maybe Charles had the smoking gun after all. “Such as?” I asked, my curiosity reaching a fever pitch.

  “For one, as one of the two senators representing the state where the proposed pipeline would be built, her opinions hold a little more sway,” he started, paused, then raised his voice back to its normal volume. “Add to that the fact she was a mostly conservative politician who could be pretty much guaranteed to vote with the Democrats on any issue that even touches the environment. With a split senate like we have, she could very well end up the deciding vote when the issue goes to vote. Or at least, she could have been.”

  A knock sounded on the other end of the line.

  “Just a sec!” Charles shouted, then said to me, “I need to go.”

  “Thanks, Charles,” I said. “This has been hugely helpful and given me lots to think about.”

  “Angie, wait.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice sounded lower and far more serious than before. “Please be careful. If you’re right and there’s some huge political conspiracy underfoot, then you could find yourself next on the hitman’s list. Let it go. I’m begging you. Let the authorities deal with whatever did or didn’t happen. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said agreeably, crossing my fingers just in case. I didn’t want to worry Charles, but at the same time, I was so close to having this thing solved it just didn’t make sense to back out now. “Thanks for the call. Bye.”

  I hung up before he could offer any further argument, finished my shower, got dressed, and went to find Nan.

  With any luck, we’d have this case wrapped by nightfall.

  And maybe for once, luck might actually be on my side.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For the better part of that afternoon, I thought about all the locals who might benefit from that proposed pipeline. How much did one need to get out of the situation to consider murder a viable option?

  I suppose someone unemployed could want a job bad enough to take such drastic measures, especially if he had a family to provide for. But the proposal was still very new, which meant the news hadn’t stretched too far about what could be coming our way. Even though I didn’t follow current events as much as I probably should, I still learned about most major stories via my various social media accounts.

  This one hadn’t made the rounds yet. At least not within my network.

  Harlow’s murderer had to be somebody on the inside. Someone who paid close attention to the news, or made it even.

  Pondering this further, I put a call in to my mom. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail. Boo.

  I spent some quiet time researching on my laptop but continually came up short. I’d talk to Nan about my conversation with Charles soon, but she had a hard time keeping quiet when she got her excited. Her voice would echo like crazy through this giant house, and with Cal still here working in the library, our talk would just have to wait.

  After another hour passed, I tried calling Mom again. She would never give up on a story before it reached its satisfying conclusion and,
seeing as she was the one who reported the news, she most definitely would know more about the pipeline and even its possible beneficiaries.

  Still no luck. Grr. She must have her phone turned off, which was almost never the case with her. Maybe she and Dad had decided to catch a matinee at the new movie theater the next town over.

  Agitated and unable to sit and wait any longer, I decided to go see how things were going in the library. Maybe I could find a nice way to send Cal home early so that I could talk my recent finding over with Nan.

  “Knock, knock,” I called before pushing my way inside.

  The room had grown chilly, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I stepped into the library. Glendale had reached that special time of year where the days were sunny and warm, but both morning and evening temperatures dipped uncomfortably low. The library’s large bay window hung open, its sheer drapery fluttering inward.

  Cal wasn’t there, and neither were the two Sphynxes.

  Oh no. This was not good at all.

  I raced down the stairs, searching for somebody, anybody.

  Cal stood outside, loading up his truck. “I’ll be back tomorrow if that’s okay,” he said before taking in my panicked expression. “Uh, is that not okay?”

  “Did you leave the window open up there?” I demanded. My voice came out crazed and shrill, which I hated. “The cats are gone.”

  He pushed the door on his truck bed up and gave me a pained look. “Shoot. I’m sorry. Let me help you find them.”

  Not able to wait any longer, I raced around the perimeter of my yard, hoping to find our two missing house guests while Cal searched closer to the house. He must have informed Nan at some point, because she came outside to help, too.

  “I didn’t leave the window open,” he said when our paths crossed again. “I did open it briefly to air out some of the dust, but I kept my eyes on the cats the whole time. When I shut it again, they were still in the room.”