Meow If It's Murder (Nick and Nora Mysteries)

by T. C. LoTempio

  The weather had turned nasty, the strong winds and heavy rain predicted by the weatherman a reality by nine o’clock that night. I’d gotten the callback from Hank, his answer confirming my suspicions.

  The weather cast a pall of gloom over the evening, increasing our feelings of trepidation throughout the evening. I made a light supper—burger and a salad for me, whitefish for Nick—and when we’d finished eating and cleared away the dishes, I made a quick phone call to Chantal. Although puzzled—and troubled—by my request, she agreed to do what I requested, no questions asked—although she did take the opportunity to remind me again about that big D on my forehead. I shrugged into my slicker with attached hood, and then Nick and I ran outside to the SUV. Twenty-five minutes later, we were parked in the parking lot at the marina. From our vantage point, we had a good view of both Lott’s office at one end, and the slip where the Lady L was docked.

  I shivered at the dampness in the air, despite my SUV’s excellent heater. For the first time in my life, I wished I had a gun, even though I haven’t the vaguest notion how to shoot one. To be quite honest, guns scare me—they always have—which might possibly be one reason—among many others—I’d never seriously gone after that PI license.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of actually killing someone, even in the line of duty.

  Nick’s tongue flicked back and forth across his fur. “Better to kill than be killed, right?” I said. “We still haven’t figured out what might have happened to your human, but who knows? Maybe that question will be answered soon, too.”

  Nick stopped grooming, put his head on his paws, and shot me a beseeching look.

  “I know—I’m fond of you, too, but if Nick Atkins turns up, I’m sure he’ll want you back—and I’m sure he’ll want to call you Sherlock again, too.”

  Nick drew back his gums and spat.

  “Yeah, I want to keep you, too. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t give you up without a fight.”

  He blinked twice and laid his head on his forepaws. I reached over and started to scratch him on his white spot, behind his right ear. He purred for a few seconds, then suddenly shrugged away and cocked his head, ears flattened back against his skull.

  “Grrr.”

  I leaned close. “What is it? Do you hear something?”

  His head moved to and fro, as if he were watching a very fast Ping-Pong game. “Grrr.” He rumbled again, eyes bright.

  We huddled close and sat in perfect silence. For a few minutes the only sound was the steady beating of rain on the SUV’s roof. Then, as we watched the pier, a shadowy form suddenly glided out of nowhere and moved swiftly toward the Lady L.

  “Hm. That’s the wrong direction. I figured he’d go straight for the office.” My hand shot out, grasped the door handle. “Maybe it’s not who I thought.” I turned to Nick. “And you,” I said, wagging my finger under his nose, “you stay here, mister, where it’s safe. I can’t be worrying about you.”

  He blinked twice and coiled his body, ready to spring. The rain had abated somewhat, but there was still a fine mist and a distinct chill in the air. I flipped up the hood on my slicker and slid out of the car, quickly eased my door shut, and hit the automatic door lock button on my key ring before he could get his rotund body moving to jump out of the car.

  His nails raked at my window. His teeth were bared in a decidedly unlovely snarl. I couldn’t help but toss him a saucy grin.

  “Sorry, pal, but you’re going to have to sit this one out.”

  He hissed and slammed at the window with his paw.

  I frowned, knowing I probably shouldn’t leave him in there with all the windows closed. The air couldn’t circulate without the motor or the AC on. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my key ring. Doug, my mechanic, was a whiz with anything electrical, and he’d programmed my remote so that I could raise and lower my car windows—only problem was, I’d only used the feature once and wasn’t quite sure how he’d told me to do it. I jabbed at a couple of buttons and gave a sigh of relief when the driver’s side window abruptly lowered about a quarter of an inch—enough for air, not enough for Nick to slide a whisker through. I slid the key ring back in my pocket.

  “Okay, you’ve got fresh air. Wish me luck.”

  I turned my back, and the air was rent with a mournful yowl—God, he was loud!

  “No one’s around to hear you,” I shouted. The wind had started to blow again, harder now, and the mist was developing into a steady drizzle. “The wind and rain drown you out anyway.”

  The yowling stopped, replaced by a plaintive cry.

  “Sorry, boy. I won’t be long.”

  I gritted my teeth, pulled my hood around my face, and sprinted for the dock. I looked over my shoulder once, and almost choked at what I saw.

  Nick, sprawled across the dashboard, giving me the kitty version of “the finger.” Paw upraised, only his middle claw nail sticking straight up.

  “Nice,” I muttered as I turned and soldiered on through the rain. “See if I make you a steak anytime soon.”

  * * *

  I slipped on board the Lady L and moved cautiously down the long corridor, my nerves tingling, every sense I possessed on high alert, thankful I’d decided to trade my high-rise boots for thick-soled sneakers. I crept softly along, and when I reached the door of Lola’s suite, I paused.

  The door stood ajar. I pressed my nose against the crack and peered inside.

  A figure wearing a long black cape was hunched over the exact spot where Nick and I had retrieved the envelope. I pushed the door inward a bit, wincing at the loud creak. The figure on the floor rose and whirled.

  “Hello, Adrienne,” I said.

  Adrienne Sloane lowered the hood on her cloak. In the cabin’s pale light, I could see her eyes were narrowed, her jaw set. I could also see a slight resemblance to Lola—not much, to be sure, because I was certain that perfect nose wasn’t the one God had given her—but there was something to her eyes, maybe it was the shape or the color, I wasn’t quite sure—that just screamed out “Lola” to me.

  She regarded me warily, her hands clenched at her side. “You know who I am,” she said softly.

  I nodded and gestured toward the open aperture. “What you’re looking for isn’t there.”

  The eyes widened slightly. “You have it?”

  “Some of it. Some of it I had to turn over to Detective Corleone.”

  A frown puckered her high forehead. “Detective Corleone?”

  I decided to take a stab. “You probably know him as Agent Corleone? Maybe Special Agent Corleone?”

  “Oh.” A glimmer of recognition lit up her eyes. “You mean Daniel? Yes. He’s been most helpful throughout this whole ordeal.”

  Had he now? I remembered the feeling I’d had, that he knew more than he let on. “He knew you were alive, didn’t he?”

  She nodded. “Oh yes. He works with the Department of Justice, which commandeers the Witness Protection Program. Daniel’s been my liaison with the FBI ever since I decided to turn state’s.”

  “And did he help get you into KMG, so you could be close to your sister?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t know about Kevin, though, until Patti started working there. I recognized her right away—I tried to avoid her like the plague. They altered my face after my ‘death,’ but—gee, you never know. Sometimes it’s something real simple, like a mannerism, that can give you away, and Patti always was pretty sharp.”

  “I gather the two of you never liked each other.”

  Adrienne grunted. “Kind of hard to like the person who turned you in to the cops. Guess I can’t blame her too much—she did it to save her own skin. Plus, she was jealous of my relationship with Mickey.”

  “That’s why she stole the ring he gave you. The gold and onyx one. That was Mickey’s ring, right?”

  “Right. Each of
the brothers had one. Mickey and I—we were involved for a long time. That’s how I left my family the first time. Lola and our parents didn’t want anything to do with me, and I can’t say as I blame them. I did drugs, got involved in prostitution—not exactly a model citizen. But once I got thrown in the slammer—I can’t explain it. My whole outlook changed. I knew I’d wasted most of my life, and call me crazy, but—I wanted to atone. I wanted to do something good.” Her eyes took on a dulled cast. “Plus, the guy I loved tossed me aside for a younger model, and threw me to the wolves to save his skin—and hers. It does something to a girl.” She laughed. “Knocked sense into me, that’s for sure. Better late than never, I guess.”

  “So when the FBI approached you, you decided to turn state’s evidence?” I prompted as her voice trailed off.

  She nodded. “Yes. Daniel was my contact right from the get-go. Sweet man. Sometimes I find it hard to believe he’s a Fed. He and the DOJ arranged for my ‘death.’ They passed off another inmate with a similar build to Lola and publicized it so the mob would know. We’d been estranged for so long she wouldn’t have known me if she fell over me anyway. It broke my heart, though. Here I was, living in the same town, working for her husband’s company, and I couldn’t tell her who I was. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “So you did the next best thing. You became friends.”

  She smiled. “Lola was real easy to get to know. We weren’t best buds, but . . . it was enough. And then she came.” Adrienne’s hand clenched and unclenched at her side. “I knew right away something must be up. So did Daniel, when I told him.”

  “So you being here—working for Kevin’s company—that was no accident, was it? The Feds arranged that?”

  She offered me a thin smile. “Yeah. Daniel said they thought it would be good for me to be near family, even though they could never know who I really was. They suspected that Patti was there to prove Kevin was Karl, and then a hit man would be brought in—but they had to be real careful, because Aldo was being watched.”

  “So they wanted you to what? Spy on Patti?”

  “Yes—but unfortunately that little plan backfired.” Adrienne started to wring her hands in front of her. “She found my ring. My own fault—I have a bad habit of not locking my office. She was snooping around, and she found it. So then, of course, I had to disappear.”

  “Because she knew who you were.”

  “Right. And I knew she’d tell just as fast as she could, so I had to ‘die’ all over again. That’s why I let it be known I didn’t believe my sister’s death was an accident, and why I hired that PI. I set it up so he’d find my ‘dead’ body underneath the pier. I called him and said I had something to tell him—it was possible the wrong Grainger had died. I knew that would get him over here fast. I was certain he’d say something—such a high-profile case, and he seemed eager to make a name for himself—who could have predicted someone would shoot him?”

  I felt my heart thud in my chest. “Someone shot him? You saw it?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth—I’m really not sure. It all happened so fast, you see, and I was hiding. I saw a figure—it looked like a woman, but as I said, it all happened so fast. I saw the person point something at him, and then I heard a shot—and after that, everything’s a blur. I had to get out of there myself, fast. Been sequestered ever since—until tonight.”

  “You took some chance,” I said. “What if that PI had continued his digging into your sister’s death? He might have started investigating Kevin.”

  She licked at her lips. “He wouldn’t have gotten far. The Feds and local police would have seen to that. They’ve been tapping Lott’s phone for a while, you know. Once I heard that call tonight, well . . . I had to get here before he did.”

  “Are you working with the Feds?” At her nod, I jammed my hands deep into the pocket of my slicker. “So then they know he’s really Carlo Wyatt?”

  Her eyes popped wide, and her skin paled beneath her makeup. “Yes, but how on earth did you figure that out?”

  “A friend of mine in Chicago ran a check for me, found out Carlo’s been missing since right before Lott’s accident. I just added up the pieces.”

  “Wow, you’re good,” she said, admiration evident in her tone. “It was stupid of him to put that ring in the scrimshaw case. He always had a high idea of himself—guess he just couldn’t bear to be without it. Lola described it to me one day, and I knew. We’ve been watching him ever since, waiting for him to make his move.”

  I moved closer to her. “The night Lola died . . . do you know what happened?”

  Adrienne licked at her lips. “Lola knew something was up with Kevin. Of course she didn’t know he was worried about mob retaliation—he’d managed to keep that secret from her. She thought he might be having an affair with Patti. I knew Patti had those photographs—I wanted Lola to find them and confront Kevin. I felt he owed it to her to be honest with her, so she’d know what they were up against. I’m positive Patti found out, they argued, and Patti probably knocked her out and threw her overboard. I don’t know for a fact, but that’s how I figure it.”

  I nodded. “Well, I can understand your wanting to kill Patti—if she did murder your sister . . .”

  Adrienne’s eyes bugged. “Oh, no. I could never do that. Even if she did kill Lola, I didn’t—I couldn’t—murder Patti.”

  “Quite true,” said a voice behind us. “I did.”

  I whirled around. Shelly Lott, or Carlo Wyatt, smiled at me over the barrel of the gun he held in his hand. I noticed he’d shaved off his beard, and had ditched the cane and phony limp. Instead of jeans and a cotton turtleneck, he was attired in a gray pinstripe suit. I guessed that was what the well-dressed hit man was wearing this season.

  “Girls, girls. I usually take out my marks with my AR-7, but lately my 22 Ruger Mark I’s been getting a lot of action.”

  I gestured toward the gun. “That’s what you used to kill Patti Simmons,” I said.

  He nodded. “She was a flake. All over Mickey until he got sent to the slammer, then she switched to Aldo. But then—she goes and falls for Karl Goring, can you believe it?” He shook his head. “She’s a doll who should have known better, but she thought she could beat the system. Thought about turning state’s evidence herself, that’s what she told me when I caught her lookin’ for that envelope. She was gonna turn me in, too, and after all I’d done for her.”

  “What did you do for her?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Why, I got rid of Lola Grainger. She was feisty and I could tell she was going to be trouble—it was time for her to go. It was easy, so easy. She got distracted, and I just whacked her on the back of the head and tossed her over. Kevin was there on the deck, too—but he’d passed out from all that liquor.”

  “So when Patti came, she thought Kevin had killed Lola,” I said. “He was too drunk to remember if he did or didn’t, but he assumed the worst, and Patti let him believe it.”

  “Right.” Wyatt smirked. “Aldo didn’t want to make a move on him without being absolutely certain, so I needed to get Patti’s evidence.” Wyatt snorted. “Yeah, Aldo’s some mob boss. He’s scared shitless of the Feds. Doesn’t want to end up like his brothers. Like anyone could trace Kevin’s killing back to him. I’m real careful.”

  “Yeah,” Adrienne jeered. “You’re so careful you left that damn ring of yours in plain sight. It was a giveaway to me.”

  “Well, you were dead once, and you will be again soon. You’re not much of a threat.” He glanced over at me. “I’m curious how you made the connection, though. I thought I came across pretty convincing as Lott to you.”

  “You did—until I saw a photograph of the real Lott’s auto accident—which I’m sure the mob must have set up—and of you and Mickey. There was a slight resemblance between you and Lott, and I confess, I visualized you with a beard. Then, there was that crime scene photo. It
wasn’t really a good idea to be one of the MTs wheeling Lott away, or to let yourself be photographed—and wearing your ring, to boot. When I examined that photo closely, I saw it.” I paused. “That’s when I got the idea the bodies might have been switched.”

  “Well, ain’t you just the smart little devil. Enough of all this—time to get down to business.” He held out his hand to me. “That envelope wasn’t in the office, like the phone call said it was. So I’ve got to assume you’ve got it on you. Hand it over, sister.”

  I licked at my lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the envelope. It was just a ruse. I was going to see if you’d go to hunt for it, and then I was going to call the police with my theory, but—I saw Adrienne going onto the Lady L and followed her instead.”

  “Well, you made the wrong choice. Now, let me tell you how this is gonna go. We’re gonna go back to your store—that’s probably where you have it stashed, right? We’re gonna go back to your store and get it, and then we’re all gonna take a nice little ride out in the country.” Wyatt shook his head. “I thought you might have taken the envelope, but the police got here too damn fast. I barely had time to knock myself out. I saw them take you away, though. You were handcuffed. How’d you ever get that envelope off the boat?”

  I lifted my chin. “You’ll never know.”

  He growled. “We’ll see about that. Now, move.”

  He stepped forward, jabbed his gun into my ribs. Acting purely on instinct, I brought my arm up, knocking his elbow and jarring the gun. Then I crashed the heel of my sneaker right into his instep. Wyatt howled with pain and took a step back.

  I grabbed Adrienne’s elbow. “That would have been more effective with heels,” I muttered. “Quick—make a run for it.”

  But Wyatt was faster than I’d anticipated. He bent, snatched the gun up, and leveled it at us. “Try one more move like that, and it will be your last.” He advanced toward me, twisted my arm behind my back, and jammed the gun into my ribs. “Now walk.”

  We started down the corridor, Adrienne in front, then me, Wyatt right behind, the gun still in my ribs. As we approached the deck, I happened to glance over at the galley. There was a small overhang over the entrance. I blinked. Had I seen a shadow there?