Kat Wolfe Investigates

by Lauren St. John

  He paused to allow this to sink in.

  ‘And another thing, you can stop stressing about Ramon. Mrs Truesdale had an email from him this morning. His business in Paraguay is going so well that he’s extending his stay. His main concern seemed to be your Paws and Claws agency, Miss Wolfe. He’d heard reports that you’re unreliable.’

  Kat was outraged. If Ramon had concerns, why hadn’t he messaged her?

  ‘That’s a big fat lie,’ Harper said loyally. ‘Kat takes care of my horse, and she’s the best animal whisperer I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘You’ve known her for three days,’ said Sergeant Singh. ‘Who knows what the fourth will bring.’

  Harper refused to give up. ‘If there’s nothing suspicious going on at Avalon Heights, why was a soldier creeping about on Ramon’s deck at midnight on the evening before he disappeared?’

  ‘I’m not going to ask how you know that,’ the policeman said pointedly. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, Miss Lamb, but Ramon hosts a birdwatching club popular with many of the soldiers. There’s every chance that a couple of them were up at Avalon Heights for a last meal before he left.

  ‘Let’s be clear. There is NO mystery here. None whatsoever. Which is a pity, because now I have to inform your parents about this call.’

  ‘There’s no mystery and he’s going to complain to your mum and my dad?’ fumed Harper. ‘How is that fair?’

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Kat. ‘But I suppose in his job he needs hard evidence. Luckily, we don’t have to stick to the rulebook like real detectives do. We can go wherever the feelings in our bones lead us.’

  Harper sat up. ‘You’re right. If there’s no mystery, why would someone send Ramon a photo with a bullseye drawn on it? And why the note: “Remember this?”’

  ‘Oh, Harper, I feel terrible. It’s my fault that Ramon never received the photo. Because of me, he’s on the other side of the world with no idea that somebody wants him dead. We have to try to warn him. At least we know that when he wrote to Margo this morning, he was alive.’

  Harper snorted. ‘Has Sergeant Singh even seen this supposed email? Maybe half the town are involved in whatever is going on, including Mr “Sour Puss” Newbolt and Edith’s cleaner. What did you say her name was?’

  ‘Maria.’

  ‘I’m adding them all to our list of suspects. I’ll put Ramon’s cleaner on it too. We’ll find out her name. Maybe she lied about having a family emergency. We’ll call her “Maid B” and Ramon’s midnight visitor “Soldier A”. Every suspect is guilty until proven otherwise.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Kat. ‘Until we’ve seen proof that Ramon’s alive with our own eyes, he’s still missing and still a target.’

  There was steel in Harper’s gaze. ‘Until then, our mission stays the same. We figure out the names of the men in the photo and how they’re connected. Then we find out who sent the parcel and why. We’d better move. The clock is ticking.’

  20

  The Exterminator

  When the alarm went off, Darren Weebly, owner and proprietor of Vanquish Pest Control, bolted upright, grabbed a magnifying mirror and performed the same hopeful routine he did every morning. He ran a bear-sized paw over his scalp to check for prickles.

  Miracle Sprout, which he applied liberally each night, guaranteed a full head of hair in ‘100 Days or Your Money Back!’

  Three months on, Darren had yet to see a result. If it hadn’t been for the product’s unadvertised fringe benefits – a rich (some might say ‘orange’) tan and a staggering spurt in eyebrow and muscle growth – he’d have already been plotting revenge on its maker.

  He hoped that wouldn’t become necessary, because Reg Chalmers, the manufacturer of Miracle Sprout Patented Baldness Cure and Miracle Veg Compost, was also Darren’s golden goose. When business was slow in the pest-control world, Reg employed Darren as a bounty hunter. If customers quibbled about paying because the promised ‘miracles’ of hair growth or giant vegetables hadn’t come to pass, Darren bullied or bashed them into parting with their cash.

  A couple of years earlier, Reg had hired Darren to steal his own prize-winning pumpkin. It was an insurance scam. For a man of Darren’s talents, the job was easier than falling off a ladder. He and a forklift-driver mate had loaded the great pumpkin into a van on the last night of the County Fair. The security guard in charge of the vegetable tent had snored through the whole thing.

  The next day, Darren had driven the pumpkin to Sussex, where another man who grew outsized vegetables had taken it off his hands and won the Grand Jury prize at his own County Fair.

  Unluckily, a bird watcher out photographing owls had witnessed the theft.

  For reasons of his own, Ramon Corazón had kept quiet about it for two years. Then a week ago, he’d got wind of Reg’s plan to force his mum out of her home.

  The bird watcher, who was a friend of Edith’s, had hinted that unless Reg kept his greasy mitts off Kittiwake Cottage, he’d tell the insurance company and County Fair that Reg and his accomplices had defrauded them out of £100,000.

  Reg had gone ballistic. He’d hired Darren again – this time to threaten Ramon Corazón with death and destruction if he ever breathed a word about Reg stealing his own pumpkin.

  Irritatingly, the bird watcher had been out or asleep when Darren called. Leaving a message had not been nearly so satisfying. Now Ramon was away for a couple of weeks in darkest Peru. Or was it Panama? Darren planned to ring again. Infuriatingly, it would have to wait.

  As Darren stared in the mirror, wondering if his head would forever remain as smooth as a snooker ball, his phone began playing the theme music from Jaws.

  When Darren saw who was calling, his ulcer began to throb. He’d recently done a pest-control job at the army base. For a few days, he’d been made to feel like the most important cog in the military machine. The top brass were determined to get the base ship-shape for the Royal Tank Regiment’s anniversary dinner, and Vanquish Pest Control was key to that plan.

  ‘Can’t have Prince William finding a mouse whisker in the soup,’ said one soldier with a psychotic laugh.

  To Darren’s surprise, one of most important men at the base had gone out of his way to take care of him during his time there. He’d even suggested that Darren be given a medal for excellent service.

  That was who was ringing now.

  Darren was afraid to pick up the phone. Was he in trouble? Had he missed some weevils in the flour? Were a plague of moths devouring the soldiers’ kit?

  But the military man was positively chipper. ‘Good morning, Mr Weebly, sir. I hope I haven’t woken you up.’

  How Darren loved being called ‘sir’.

  ‘Not at all, sir. Been up for hours, sir,’ he lied.

  ‘Excellent. Damn fine job you did for us at the base, Mr Weebly. What a pro you are. So skilful and efficient. Man, you have some nerve, doing what you do.’

  It was the highest praise Darren had ever received, and he wished he was recording the call so he could play it every day for the rest of his life. ‘Thanks, sir. Appreciate the feedback. All in a day’s work.’

  ‘Credit where credit is due, Mr Weebly. Now I’ll get straight to the point. I have a private job that needs doing. It requires a true professional. Someone discreet, who can keep a cool head. Naturally, I thought of you.’

  ‘Look no further,’ Darren said eagerly. ‘I’m your man.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Am I correct in assuming that Vanquish Pest Control deals with large pests as well as small ones?’

  ‘Yes, sir, we do,’ Darren said proudly. ‘We murder moles and rout rabbits.’

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

  A freezing silence echoed down the line.

  ‘I’ve made a mistake,’ the man said at last. ‘You’re not right for the job after all.’

  That’s when Darren realized that the call he’d been waiting for all his life – the one that would lead to him lea
ving the pest-control world behind and becoming the gangster of his dreams – had finally arrived.

  ‘I am the right man, sir,’ he almost shouted. ‘I am. I will deal with anyone or anything. No questions asked. That’s why my clients call me the Exterminator.’

  The man gave a dry laugh. ‘OK, Exterminator, the job’s simple. It’s a matter of neutralizing a threat. I’d do it myself, but we’re working round the clock preparing for the Tank Regiment’s anniversary dinner.’

  Darren was shaking with excitement. ‘This threat – would you like it vanquished, sir?’

  ‘Vanquished?’

  ‘Eliminated! Ground into the dirt! Chopped up like liver!’

  ‘Nothing so drastic at the moment –’ the soldier chuckled – ‘but it’s great to know there are options. At this stage, all I want you to do is have a firm word with a troublemaker who’s been spreading lies around Bluebell Bay. I want you to make it clear that if they continue there will be consequences.’

  ‘Consider it done, sir. Give me a name and an address, and I’ll neutralize the threat as soon as possible.’

  ‘Good stuff. The target should be easy to find because her mother is the town veterinary surgeon. They live next door to the clinic. This girl also has a pet-sitting business – Paws and Claws.’

  Darren tried not to panic. People called women ‘girls’ all the time. Didn’t mean they were actual girls.

  ‘How old is this girl?’ he asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. ‘Teens? Twenties? Thirties?’

  The soldier gave a psychopathic laugh. ‘Even easier. She’s twelve.’

  ‘Twelve?’

  Darren had never been troubled with a conscience, but he did draw the line at frightening children. That was partly because it seemed wrong to pick on someone a third of one’s size, and partly because he’d had a phobia about girls ever since one had beaten him in a fight, aged ten, with a roundhouse kick. But he wasn’t about to admit that to the man on the other end of the line.

  ‘Problem, Exterminator?’ asked the soldier.

  Darren wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘No problem, sir. I’ll message when the threat has been neutralized.’

  ‘Can’t wait. The target’s name is Wolfe. Kat Wolfe.’

  As soon as Darren put the phone down, he started trembling. It was something to do with the girl’s name: Kat Wolfe. It gave him a feeling of foreboding. The pets, too, were a worry. Cats, in particular, had always loathed him.

  Finally, he had a brainwave.

  In Hollywood, there was a saying: ‘Never work with children or animals.’ The Exterminator wholeheartedly agreed. Children and animals had minds of their own, and a mind of one’s own was a dangerous thing.

  No, the best method of destroying Kat Wolfe was to do it remotely, in a way guaranteed to hurt her most.

  He’d go after her mother.

  21

  Pleading the Fifth

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ said Dr Wolfe. ‘You’ve been a pet-sitter for three days. Not three months or years, three days. Two and a half, if we’re being technical. How have you managed to get into so much trouble?’

  Kat did her best to appear contrite while saying as little as possible. In America, Harper had told her, it was called ‘Pleading the Fifth’.

  ‘The Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution gives you the right to decline to answer questions if the answers might incriminate you,’ she’d explained.

  That might have worked with the Connecticut cops or in a US court of law, but it was not working well with Kat’s mum. Apart from the time when the Dark Lord had tried to talk to her from the window of his limousine in London, Kat could not ever recall seeing her mother so angry.

  ‘When Sergeant Singh first called me, I was sure it was a case of mistaken identity,’ Dr Wolfe ranted. ‘The Kat I know wouldn’t waste police time with conspiracy theories about bloodstained T-shirts and mystery men snatching suitcases. The Kat I know wouldn’t badger Sergeant Singh with ludicrous claims about Mr Corazón being the Phantom of Oxford Street. And, to top it all, I hear you’ve accused a birdwatching soldier of wanting to attack him.’

  Kat hoped the lecture was over, but her mum was just getting warmed up.

  ‘What’s going on, Katarina? You’ve always been so sensible.’

  Had she? Kat tried to remember. It didn’t matter now. If she’d learned anything from adventure novels it was that being sensible was no use at all in a crisis.

  Ramon was a grown man who, under normal circumstances, was more than capable of taking care of himself. But nothing about this situation was normal. Somebody, somewhere, wanted Ramon dead or gone. And because Kat had taken his parcel he didn’t know that. He didn’t have his guard up.

  Which is why Kat had to be the one to save him, even if it meant keeping a secret from the mother she loved.

  She bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry that Sergeant Singh upset you, Mum.’

  ‘Sergeant Singh hasn’t upset me. You’ve upset me.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum, he’s exaggerating. The first time I went to Avalon Heights, it was foggy, and Ramon had left the door open. I was worried there’d been a burglary, so I reported it to Sergeant Singh. He came with me to check it out and said I’d done the right thing.’

  ‘I suppose you did,’ her mum admitted. ‘But how are you going to explain away the bloodstained shirt, the Oxford Street Phantom and the soldier with the trowel?’

  ‘The tomato sauce really did look like blood, and the trilby on the news was the same shape and colour as Ramon’s. Looking back, it does seem stupid.’

  Kat left out the part about the soldier. She apologized profusely twice more in the hope her mum would forgive her, but Dr Wolfe was not in a forgiving mood.

  ‘It’s all very well being sorry, Kat, but you – we – are now the talk of the town. Bluebell Bay Animal Clinic has barely been open two weeks. People have to feel able to trust their new vet. They’re not going to do that if their vet’s daughter is spreading rumours and gossiping to her friend about people’s private business.’

  Kat tried to speak, but her mum hadn’t finished.

  ‘Do you know who I blame for this? Harper Lamb. I’d have expected more from a professor’s daughter. Obviously, she’s a terrible influence.’

  Now Kat was furious. ‘Harper is not a terrible influence. She’s the kindest, smartest, most fun girl I’ve ever met.’

  Her mum gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘You’ve known her for three days!’

  ‘Yes, and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had,’ Kat said passionately, ‘apart from you.’

  There was a long silence as both mum and daughter remembered that, when all was said and done, that’s what they were: best friends.

  Dr Wolfe counted to ten before giving Kat a hug.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. No mother wants to get a call from the police about her daughter. It frightened me. As if that wasn’t enough, I’ve had Margo, the neighbours and, worst of all, a bitterly gleeful Mr Newbolt demanding to know why you’d dragged Sergeant Singh up to Avalon Heights.’

  Kat realized that if she and Harper weren’t careful they could jeopardize Dr Wolfe’s reputation, and that would be unforgivable.

  Somehow she had to walk the tightrope between protecting her mother and saving Ramon.

  ‘I’m sorry too, Mum. I couldn’t bear it if people thought badly of you because of something I did. You’re the best vet in the world. I promise to stay out of Sergeant Singh’s way.’

  ‘And you’ll put an end to your Paws and Claws agency?’

  ‘What – stop pet-sitting? I can’t abandon Edith and Toby. They need me. Edith’s mean son keeps telling her that she’ll be free as a bird if she moves out of her home and goes into one of those places where people watch TV till they die.’

  Ellen Wolfe abhorred cruelty to children, animals and the elderly above all else, but she did her best to be diplomatic.

  ‘I’m sure Edith’s son loves her and only wants what�
�s best for her, but, no, you can’t possibly abandon Edith and Toby. And the parrot needs you until Ramon comes home. But that’s it. No other pets.’

  ‘What about Harper? She has two broken legs. I can’t just dump her and Charming Outlaw.’

  ‘From what I hear, the horse is more outlaw than charm,’ was Dr Wolfe’s wry reply. ‘How’s he been behaving?’

  ‘He was just lonely. Now that he has Hero for company, he’s soooo much more relaxed.’

  The mention of the calico stray had exactly the effect Kat was hoping for.

  ‘Yes, it was very kind of the Lambs to take Hero. I suppose you can’t abandon Harper and her horse – not while she’s still in plaster.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’

  Dr Wolfe shot her a look. ‘So long as we’re clear that you’re not taking on a single other animal – not until you’ve proved that you can be responsible. Then we’ll see.’

  ‘If you say so, Mum.’ Kat sighed, although in truth she was relieved. Being a detective as well as a pet-sitter was a time-consuming business. She’d been wondering how she’d manage if she had an influx of new clients. Just this morning she’d turned down a hamster.

  ‘And another thing – you’re not to go near Ramon’s house. There’s no need, Kat, not with Bailey ruling the roost at the practice.’

  Kat thought fast. Returning to Avalon Heights was her best chance of finding more clues.

  ‘But what about the plants, Mum? I promised Ramon I’d water them. There are lettuces and herbs and flowers on the deck.’

  Her mum gave her a searching stare. ‘You’re sure it’s necessary? They’ll die if you don’t?’

  ‘Lives are at stake if I don’t get to Avalon Heights.’

  ‘All right, but only if I go with you. Tomorrow afternoon would be best. Even Bluebell Bay must be quiet on a Sunday.’

  22

  Option Thirteen