“A modeling agency, right?” Katherine asked.
“No, she was a receptionist at a jewelry store.”
“Oh, that’s right. Colleen told me that her mother ran into Madison on the street, and she said she was temping on 47th Street.”
Detective Martin noted, “That’s something you didn’t mention in your police report.”
“I’m sorry, it just came back to me.”
“Anything significant about 47th Street? I’ve never been to New York.”
“The area between Fifth and Sixth Avenues on Forty-Seventh Street is known as the diamond district. It’s the world’s oldest and largest diamond exchange. I know this, because I worked very close by, and would often go there, walk the street, and do window shopping.”
“Ouch,” Detective Martin said. “Something just bit me.”
Katherine and Jake looked under the table. Iris sat close to the detective. The Siamese blinked her eyes, and assumed an innocent look.
“Iris,” Katherine scolded. “Get over here.” She lifted up the misbehaving cat and sat the Siamese on her lap. “I must apologize for Miss Siam’s bad behavior. I don’t know what has gotten in to her.”
“Yowl,” Iris cried.
“A little less sass would be appreciated.”
“It was just a nip. It wasn’t like an alligator bit me,” the detective chuckled. “Where’s the other cats?”
“Toasting their buns on the office floor register.”
Jake questioned. “What about the Russian who broke into our house?”
“No two ways about it. He broke into your house, and ended up with a broken leg. Katz, is it really true, two of your cats pushed a heavy grandfather clock on the man?” the detective asked skeptically. “The chief said there were paw prints in the dust on the back of it.
Katherine nodded. “But you’ve got to understand, the clock was very dangerous. I was in the process of hiring someone to dismantle it and take it out.”
“How did your cats know this?”
Katherine answered honestly. “I truly don’t know.”
“Okay, back to the Russian. Right now, he’s being held at the Erie jail.”
“What’s the charge?”
“Unlawful entry.”
“And not murder?”
“We have no evidence to suggest he was the shooter. We bagged his hands and no gun residue was found.”
“I’m still unclear how he and Madison made their way to my house,” Katherine said.
“Somehow the driver was able to ditch the shooter, and he drove Madison back here to look for something she left behind.”
“She said ‘give them the bag.’ I don’t know what she was talking about. I know she wasn’t referring to her purse because she took it with her when she left the night before.”
The detective continued, “I assume the driver knew Madison was gravely injured. He didn’t care enough about her welfare to take her to the hospital or to see her safely in your house. When he realized you had locked the front door, he chose another way to get inside.”
“By breaking a curved glass window that will be difficult to replace,” Jake offered.
“Your uncle Cokey is a fast worker. I noticed when I came in he already had plywood up to cover the window.”
“Jake helped too,” Katherine added.
“Let’s back track a little,” the detective said. “First of all, the man’s name is Dimitri Godunov. He barely speaks English, so we were lucky to find a Russian language professor at the university in the City. Katz, do you know this man?”
Confused by the question, Katherine answered, “I don’t know either one of them. Should I?”
“I’m referring to Mr. Godunov. I was able to interview him a few hours ago. He seems terrified of something. Actually, he’s scared stiff. I requested a psychologist to check him out.”
“Terrified of what? Of being arrested?”
“I’m thinkin’ something else.”
Katherine said knowingly, “He probably has mob connections, and he’s afraid of repercussions because he failed to do whatever he was hired to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“In New York City, the Russian mob has been around since the Soviets let them out of the old USSR. Maybe even before that.”
“When?”
“In the 1970s. Russian Jews were allowed to leave, and they did so by the thousands, but the government also let out of prison a lot of criminals, who ended up in the United States.”
“Interesting way to get rid of your unwanted prisoners,” Detective Martin said.
“No, not your average criminal, but worse. Hardened criminals. Murderers.”
“Katz, you amaze me with your insight. How do you know this?”
“I grew up close to Brighton Beach. It’s on the tail end of Brooklyn, close to Coney Island. When you live in a big city like New York, your street sense develops very fast. Everyone is said to be very afraid of the Russian mafia.”
Jake asked, “Why just the Russian mob?”
“Unlike other mob organizations who take care of business by assassinating individuals, the Russian mob targets entire families.”
“Good lead, Katz. I’ll pursue it.”
The cats in the next room became very vocal. One of them was batting a large marble around. It rolled on the floor, bounced on the wall, then made its way into the kitchen. Abby bolted in, pounced on the marble. She pawed the toy with her left foot and with her right paw gave the toy a croquet-style whack. It skidded off one of the cabinets, angled to the table, bounced off the leg, and came to a stop on Detective Martin’s shoe.
She laughed, “Hockey! My cats play it all the time with a ping pong ball.” She reached down to pick up the toy, then said in a shocked voice. “Eureka moment, folks. I’m ninety-nine percent sure why Madison told you to ‘give the bag to them.’ The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.” She sat back on her chair, clasping the toy in her hand.
Katherine and Jake exchanged curious glances. “How is our cat’s marble relevant to the case?”
Detective Martin slowly opened her hand. A large, brown gemstone gleamed in the light of the lamp near the table.
“Is it real?” Katherine asked, shocked.
“Let’s find out. Katz, could you please get me a glass?”
Katherine got up, walked over to the cabinet above the stove, and pulled out a small drinking glass. She returned to Detective Martin and handed the glass to her.
The detective took the diamond and easily put a visible scratch on the glass. “Oh, I’d say that it’s very real. This is a brown diamond. Most come from Australia. You’ve probably seen TV commercials for ‘chocolate diamonds.’ Judging by the size of it, I bet it’s worth a great deal of money.”
“The cats have been playing with it for days. I thought it was their marble,” Katherine said, astonished.
Jake added, “Usually the cats prefer the uneven floor in the living room. I’m surprised it made its way out here.”
Detective Martin got up from her chair. “Let’s go in there and check it out.”
“Do you think there’re more?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Madison said ‘bag.’ At first, I thought she was talking about drugs.”
“Me, too,” Katherine agreed.
“A jeweler’s bag can hold more than one diamond,” Jake added.
Katherine stifled a laugh. “A search and rescue mission for diamonds.”
The trio walked into the living room with a group of inquisitive felines trailing behind them. Iris sat guardedly in front of the famous winged back chair, where Abby and she hid their loot.
Katherine gave Jake a knowing look, got down on her hands and knees, and felt inside the torn lining of the chair. An assortment of missing — stolen — objects rained out and fell to the wood floor.
Detective Martin was amused. “Kleptocats,” she said. “It’s a new word for the Webster’s dictionary.”
&nbs
p; Jake said, shifting through the stuff, “We’ve got a shoe lace, pink ladies razor, fortunately with the safety cap intact, one very soiled T-shirt stolen from the laundry, and a chewed-up credit card case.” He opened it, did a cursory glance, then handed it to the detective.
She eyed it curiously, and removed a credit card. “This is interesting. Katz, it has your name on it. Better call this bank ASAP.”
“Where Madison is, I don’t think she’ll be using it,” Katherine said tight-lipped, taking the card and putting it in her pocket.
Dewey and Crowie leaped inside the torn lining and began tussling. “Mao,” Dewey exploded. Crowie hissed; Dewey growled.
“Come out, little men,” Jake said, dragging out the playful cats.
Iris — always the over-protective adopted mom — trotted over and grabbed Dewey by the nape of his neck. She then began grooming him.
Detective Martin asked, “Are there any other chairs the cats hide things in?”
Abby sat on top of a fancy-scrolled floor register, looking like a regal Egyptian goddess. “Chirp,” she cried proudly.
Jake moved over and picked her up. “Whatcha got there, baby girl?”
Katherine pried up the register cover. Using the flashlight function of her cell phone, she shone the light inside the register. Carefully, she pulled out a tattered organza jeweler’s bag with numerous diamonds gleaming in the light. The satin ribbon closure was chewed, and the top of the bag was missing, but the bottom of the bag was intact.
“Hand it to me,” Detective Martin said. She tugged a plastic evidence bag from her jacket, and set the torn bag inside. “Let’s head back to the kitchen. I want to do an Internet search on recent New York City jewel thefts.”
Still holding Abby, who was purring loudly, Jake followed Katherine and Detective Martin back to the kitchen.
The detective pounded several strings of search terms, and spent several minutes doing this. “No matches. I’m going to step into the next room. Excuse me,” she said, getting up. “I need to call the NYPD and ask if any jewelers in Manhattan have reported a theft as big as this.” She walked into the next room.
Katherine whispered to Jake, “She’s going to come back and say there wasn’t any theft report.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, because if the diamonds came from a legitimate jewelry store, the owner would report it to the NYPD. News reports of the heist would be blasted on television, the Internet and in newspapers. I read the New York Times. I haven’t seen anything mentioned about missing diamonds.”
“We know the cats stole the diamonds — ”
“From Madison’s tote bag.”
“Personally, I don’t think they stole them to solve a mystery. They just wanted to play with them,” Jake noted.
Katherine gave an inquisitive look. “You think so?”
Jake set Abby on the floor, who leaped up to the countertop to the top of the window valance, then ran its full length. “Let’s think of clues. Why was my dirty t-shirt in the infamous chair?”
“Chirp,” Abby cried guiltily.
“Don’t forget Don Henley’s song, ‘Dirty Laundry.’ I’ve walked into my office several times and that song was playing on YouTube. Madison made the mistake of stealing from the wrong person. I suspect the jewelry store owner was selling diamonds that were purchased with dirty money from criminal activity.”
Detective Martin came back in. She’d overheard the tail end of Jake’s and Katherine’s conversation. “Yes, Katz, I think you’re right. The NYPD has received no reports of a jewelry store heist. I suspect money laundering, as well. I’ve notified the FBI.”
“Come again? How is this whole thing related to money laundering?” Jake asked.
The detective answered, “The mob makes money illegally, they send it electronically overseas, there it is used to buy diamonds. The diamonds come back legitimately to the US, and the jewelers sell them. Simple.”
“So, I assume the FBI has the address of Madison’s employer. I hope there’ll be an arrest made there soon,” Katherine said.
“That part is out of my hands, but in Erie I have a few loose ends to tie up.” The detective returned to the table and gathered up her laptop. “Katz, always a pleasure talking to you. And, you too, Jake. Take care of those fur kids,” she said, leaving.
Katherine and Jake followed her to make sure the front door was locked. Katherine hugged Jake around the waist and looked up at him. “I hope this is the last time we’ll see dirty laundry in the wing back chair.”
Jake leaned down and kissed her on the head, “I expect my T-shirts are safe for now.”
“I wonder what happened to the second Russian — the shooter?”
“If he’s smart, he’ll surrender to the FBI, and rat out the members of the mob, then go into the witness protection program.”
“That’s not a happy thought, especially since he shot Madison.”
“Katz, we don’t know that. But it’s scary that a criminal can be protected by our government.”
“Hitmen have entered the program many times.”
“History often repeats itself.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Waugh,” Scout agreed, sitting on her haunches nearby. She crossed her blue eyes in an insane expression, then lifted up her back leg and began washing it. Her pink tongue darted in and out, between her toes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Katherine threw on a warm coat, stepped into her boots, and pulled on a sock hat. She walked to the Foursquare, climbed up the front steps, and rang the doorbell. She’d texted Salina earlier that she was coming. She’d bought Salina a cell phone so that the teen could always call or text if she needed anything.
Salina opened the door and said happily, “Katz, come in. I want you to see the new furniture.”
Katherine cast her eyes around the living room, which was graced with comfortable mission-style furniture. “Wow,” she admired, then asked, “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s working today.”
“On Sunday?”
“Yes, he said he had to get caught up. He’s an electrician, you know.”
Katherine nodded. She marveled at how well-spoken Stevie’s daughter was. And smart.
Wolfy padded in and rubbed against Katherine’s legs. “Glad to see you’re a lot better,” she said, reaching down to pet him, then thought I’m so relieved, in more ways than one, that he tested negative for feline leukemia.
“He hasn’t sneezed in days.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Oh, and by the way, my kids didn’t catch the cold.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Wolfy told me.” Salina looked very mysterious, then burst out laughing. “I’m kidding.”
“How does Wolfy like the new food Dr. Sonny prescribed?”
“He wolfs it down,” Salina laughed again.
Katherine smiled. “He’ll look grand when he’s back up to his normal weight.”
“And, no more bologna.”
“Listen, Salina about our little secret, does your dad know I bought the furniture?”
Salina shook her head. “Nope, that’s our secret forever and ever and ever.”
“Who does he think bought it? I’m just curious.”
Wolfy meowed softly and reached up for Salina to hold him. The teen scooped him up and kissed him repeatedly on the top of his head. “Love, love, love you,” she said, then answered, “He said he thought grandad bought us the furniture as a peace offering.”
“A peace offering? For what?”
“Oh, my grandad and my dad don’t see eye-to-eye.”
“I kinda knew that,” Katherine said.
“Dad said he took out an insurance policy with my grandad that something bad would never happen.”
“An insurance policy? How?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what my dad said.”
“Salina, an insurance policy can protect yo
u in many ways. In return, you pay a premium.” She worried what Stevie had promised in return.
“Oh, my grandad is going to make sure all of us are safe in our houses, that there will never be a drive-by shooting again.”
Salina’s comment made Katherine think of the day Sam Sanders and his daughter Barbie returned Iris, who had been missing for several weeks. He had said then, “Are we clear?”
Fumbling for a response to Salina, Katherine said, “That we’re clear. That everything is going to be okay.”
“Why, yes, and that Jake will be safe also. I like Jake. He’s a lot of fun.”
Katherine cringed at the thought of something bad happening to Jake, then dismissed it. “I forgot to tell you why I came over.”
“Yeah?”
Katherine pulled a bag of cat treats out of her coat’s pocket. She opened the bag, then handed a treat to Wolfy.
“Mir-whoa,” the skinny gray cat answered in a squeaky voice.
“You’re welcome.” Katherine tipped her head back and laughed.
Salina set Wolfy on the floor.
“Jake is fixing chili. Want to join us? The cats miss you, especially Abby.”
“I miss Abby, too. Yes, I’d love to come over, but first I’ll text my dad and let him know.”
“Good. Say hello from me.”
Katherine picked up Wolfy and began singing a tune she’d learned from Salina. “I’m holdin’ a cat named Wolfy Joe. He looks like a werewolf, don’t you know . . . ”
The End
Dear Reader . . .
I love it when my readers write to me. If you’d like to email me about what you’d like to see in the next book, or just talk about your favorite scenes and characters, email me at: [email protected]
Thank you so much for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you liked “The Cats that Stole a Million,” I would be so thankful if you’d help others enjoy this book, too, by recommending it to your friends, family, and book clubs, and/or by writing a positive review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
I love to post pictures of my cats on my Facebook pages, and would enjoy learning about your pets, as well.
The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 13
