by Paige Sleuth
Kat started to peek at the list, but Clover dug his claws into her knee to prevent any further movement. “Does there happen to be a woman named Sally on there?” she asked.
Imogene chuckled. “Oh, now, Kat, you’re really testing an old woman’s memory.”
Willow trailed her finger down a few pages. “I don’t see any Sallys.”
“She’s the person who might adopt Sundae,” Kat told them. “She’s really tall, and her hair is this rich, golden blond. I talked to her earlier in the evening but couldn’t remember seeing her after John died.”
Willow snapped her fingers. “I know who you’re talking about. But I don’t recall what time I noticed her.”
Imogene tossed Willow a pen. “Might as well write her name down.”
“You can add a woman named Zoe, too,” Kat said. “She’s Sally’s sister.”
Willow pointed to one of the notepad entries. “Zoe’s already on here. She bid on the evening with John.”
“Did either of you meet her?” Kat asked.
“Possibly.” Willow shrugged. “I met so many people.”
“Now her I remember,” Imogene said. “She was talking to John when I went to ask him about standing closer to the cat corner.” Imogene tapped her chin. “I will say though, I’m fairly certain she left before Kenny and the others arrived.”
Kat’s pulse beat a little faster. Was the fact that both sisters had disappeared before the police had shown up significant? But if the sisters did have something to do with John Sykes’s murder, why would they have opted to hang around Cherry Hills until this afternoon? And why would Zoe have documented her presence at the auction by bidding on the evening with John?
Imogene slapped her palm on the desk, snapping Kat back to the present and prompting Clover to jerk his head up. The white cat glowered at his human for a moment before lowering his chin onto his paws.
“Back to 4F business,” Imogene said. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m anxious to distribute those prizes and put yesterday behind us. That means we have to decide who’s going to get in touch with which winners before we leave here today.”
Willow handed Imogene her notepad. “I presume you want to do the honors.”
Imogene grinned. “You know me too well.”
Clover stood up and jumped onto the desk, causing Kat to grunt from the force of his takeoff. He sat down on the notepad, his head held high as though to appoint himself supervisor of this effort.
Imogene rubbed Clover’s ears. “I’m glad you’ve finally forgiven me for letting a couple guests stay in your room last night.”
“Did the Burmeses get back to their foster family okay?” Willow asked.
Imogene nodded. “I dropped them off first thing this morning.”
Willow settled back in her seat. “Well, that’s one loose end taken care of.”
“One of a million.” Imogene groaned. “I’m telling you ladies, despite the money we’ll have in the bank once we get these prizes delivered, I’m starting to wish we never had the idea of holding this fundraiser.”
Kat sagged against the armchair. She was having the same regret.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the 4F board meeting, Kat made a quick stop at the Belleroses’ to pick up Sundae before continuing on to the Cherry Hills Hotel. With all the meowing he was doing, Kat expected the tabby to be hoarse by the time they arrived.
“It’s not a long drive,” Kat assured the complaining feline when he finally paused for air. “And if you’re lucky, today might be your last day in a car for a while. You’re about to meet somebody who could be taking you home with her.”
When Sundae didn’t say anything, Kat glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He was peering at her through the carrier door, hanging on her every word.
“So you like being talked to, huh?” Kat said. “Well, I have plenty of things we can discuss. Why don’t we talk about . . . who could have killed John Sykes. That seems to be all I can think about anyway.”
In a singsong voice, Kat detailed her suspicions about Eli Giovanni, Marta Sykes, Sally, and Zoe. Sundae didn’t interrupt once, seemingly enraptured by the murder mystery.
“Of course, at this point anybody who was there last night could be guilty,” Kat told the tabby. “Including you.”
That finally elicited a reaction from the cat. He rattled the carrier door with his paw and meowed.
“Okay, so you were stuck in a cage all night,” Kat conceded. “I guess that’s a pretty good alibi.”
She pulled into the hotel parking lot and maneuvered into a space near the main entrance. Sally was already waiting for her in the lobby. She stood up when Kat walked through the automatic doors.
“He looks just as I remember,” Sally said, bending down to poke her finger through the carrier door. “Thanks for bringing him by. My sister is going to love him.”
“Your sister?” Kat echoed.
Sally straightened back up. “I thought it would be good for Zoe to have an animal around. Why, is that a problem?”
“That depends on how Zoe feels. Have you asked her?”
“Not specifically, no. But she gets so lonely being by herself all the time, I figured this would be good for her.”
“I can understand you wanting to help,” Kat said, “but the decision needs to be made by Zoe. Adopting an animal is a big commitment, and I can’t release Sundae unless I know he’s going to a home that wants him.”
Sally pursed her lips, seeming to ponder that. Kat wondered if making decisions on Zoe’s behalf was Sally’s typical modus operandi. She appeared to care a great deal about her sister—perhaps to the point where she equated meddling with helping.
But despite how pure Sally’s intentions might be, Kat couldn’t risk Sundae being returned or, worse, dumped somewhere if Zoe didn’t want him.
“Why don’t you ask Zoe if she wants to come down to meet Sundae?” Kat proposed. “Then she can decide for herself whether she’d like to adopt him.”
“She’s at the hotel gym right now,” Sally said. “She might be another half hour or so.”
“I can hang out for a while.”
Sundae meowed his own opinion of that plan, and Kat had to laugh.
“I see we have a dissenter.” To Sally, she added, “He’s been very chatty this morning. Like most cats, he’s not a big fan of being caged.”
“You could let him out in our bathroom,” Sally suggested. “Do you think the hotel would object?”
“No, they’re very animal friendly here.” Kat held the carrier out to Sally. “Do you mind taking him up yourself? I have somebody else I need to speak with here, but it shouldn’t take long. Maybe Zoe will be done with her workout by the time I’m finished.”
Sally took the carrier. “Okay. We’re in room two-oh-seven. Just come up whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, I will.”
While Sally headed for the elevators, Kat had the desk clerk connect her to Eli’s room. He said he would be right down, and she searched for a spot where she could wait for him. The lobby was spacious, with clusters of chairs and couches positioned around the room. She chose one of the armchairs with a clear view of the elevators.
She didn’t have to wait long before she saw Eli Giovanni stepping off one of the elevators. Kat stood up and waved.
He strode over to her, looking sharp in a crisp button-down shirt and jeans. His hair looked natural today. Evidently he saved the hair gel for special occasions.
“Kat,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks for meeting me. I have a question to ask you on behalf of Furry Friends Foster Families.”
“What’s that?”
“As you know, John Sykes donated an evening out as one of our auction prizes. Now that he’s gone, we were wondering if you’d like to substitute for him.” Kat pulled the piece of paper Imogene had given her out of her jeans pocket. “I have his itinerary here. He was going to start with a personalized tour of the station, then he had ma
de reservations for a restaurant called—”
“I’m well aware of the details,” Eli interjected.
“Oh.”
Eli sat down in a wing-back chair. “He was boasting all week about how he had cajoled the station manager into letting him escort a stranger around the facilities and talked this posh restaurant into comping a meal in exchange for using his photo in some ads.”
Kat studied Eli’s face as she reseated herself. His jaw was clenched so tightly she wouldn’t be surprised if he gave himself a toothache. His rivalry with his co-host clearly went deeper than she’d realized.
“So,” Eli said, “who’s the lucky winner?”
“Her name is Lady Fairchild.”
“Lady? As in Lady and the Tramp?”
Kat couldn’t tell if his lips were twitching in amusement or disgust. “Her first name is actually Dorothy, but she prefers to be called Lady.”
Eli slumped against the back of the chair. “Great. A diva.”
“She’s a very nice woman,” Kat said, bristling in Lady Fairchild’s defense.
“I’m sure she is,” Eli replied, but his tone belied his words.
Kat was starting to see why so many women had preferred John to his co-host. Eli might be good-looking, but when it came to charisma and manners he was seriously lacking. At the moment, he reminded Kat of a spoiled, oversized brat.
She cleared her throat. “If you don’t want to take—”
“I want to,” Eli cut in.
Kat didn’t reply, silently contemplating whether she should advise Lady Fairchild to pass on collecting her prize. Although 4F would be out a sizable donation if the evening out were canceled, Kat felt she had a moral obligation to warn the kind, older woman about what she could expect from John’s stand-in.
Eli slapped his palms on his thighs. “So, are you going to give me this Lady’s number?”
“Why don’t I have her call the station this week,” Kat said. She slipped the paper Imogene had given her into her jeans pocket, hopefully before Eli noticed Lady Fairchild’s contact information scribbled on the bottom.
Eli shrugged, not looking as if he cared one way or another whether Lady Fairchild made the call. “Suit yourself.”
“Eli.”
They both turned to see Marta Sykes striding toward them. In her yellow cardigan and white slacks, she didn’t look like a woman in mourning. In fact, Kat didn’t think even a black veil could hide the smile on her face. It was bright enough to light up the whole lobby.
“Marta.” Eli jumped out of his seat, any trace of annoyance now gone from his voice. “What are you doing up and about?”
“I came to look for you.” Her eyes drifted toward Kat. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Kat stood up and folded her hands in front of her. “I was just giving Eli here some information on the evening out . . .” She trailed off, realizing how her words would sound to John’s widow.
But Marta didn’t seem bothered by the fact that plans were already being made to fill in the gaps left behind by her husband’s death. She merely nodded.
“How are you feeling?” Eli asked.
“Much better.” Marta smiled. “That omelet I ordered from room service was the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”
Although a good meal could help to explain why Marta looked so much healthier today, Kat had to wonder if John’s death might be a little bit responsible. At any rate, losing him had only seemed to improve Marta’s appetite.
“Have you heard anything from the police yet?” Eli asked Marta.
“They haven’t said a word.” Marta’s cheek twisted. “I was hoping they’d have caught the person by now. I’d like to get back home before the weekend is over.”
“I’m sure we’re free to go whenever we’d like,” Eli said. “It’s not like you or I killed John.”
Both Marta and Eli rotated toward Kat. She blinked, hoping her suspicions didn’t show on her face.
Marta faced Eli again. “Perhaps I’ll head over to the station and talk to someone there. I’d prefer to get the go-ahead directly.”
Eli nodded. “Best not to leave under suspicion if we can avoid—”
His words were cut off when a scream echoed through the lobby. Kat whipped around just in time to see a woman collapse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eli sprinted across the lobby. Kat dashed after him, her heart pounding.
When she got closer, Kat could see the woman who had collapsed was conscious. A man was hunched over her, his hand gripping hers.
“What happened, Dmitri?” Eli asked him.
He lifted his head, and Kat realized he was the bald man with the mustache she had seen talking to Eli across the room yesterday. His hazel eyes were bright with concern.
“She lost her footing.” Dmitri’s voice was surprisingly deep. “It’s my fault. I delivered some bad news without giving her adequate advance warning.”
“Bad news!” the woman shrieked, clambering into a sitting position. “This goes beyond bad news. This is a catastrophe!”
With wide eyes and curly brown hair that protruded in every direction, she looked a bit crazed. She also seemed rather familiar, and Kat presumed she had been at the silent auction the night before.
“He’s dead!” she shouted, scrabbling for Dmitri’s arm as she worked to haul herself upright. “John’s dead!”
“You’re talking about John Sykes?” Kat said.
Instead of responding, the woman buried her face in her hands and let out a sob.
Dmitri fingered one end of his mustache. “She just found out.”
“You’re only hearing about his passing now?” Eli said. “I was under the impression the police informed everyone during their interviews.”
“We were forced to leave before it all happened.” Dmitri darted a look at the woman, who dropped her hands from her face to glare at him.
Kat’s gaze flitted between them. The air felt ten degrees cooler than it had a second ago. Clearly the reason the couple had departed the auction early was a point of contention between them.
“So I had a wee bit too much to drink last night,” the woman said, jutting her chin in the air. “What of it? It’s not like you don’t have any vices of your own, Dmitri.”
Dmitri’s jaw clenched. “I’m not criticizing, Diane. I was merely explaining why we weren’t aware of Sykes’s death until I ran into that desk clerk in the restroom.”
As though she’d just learned of John’s fate all over again, the woman’s shoulders started shaking. She stumbled over to a nearby chair and fell into it. Her back was turned, but Kat could hear her crying quietly.
Dmitri didn’t make any move to comfort her. Instead, he faced Eli. “You’ll have to excuse Diane. She was rather fond of your coworker.”
Kat’s heart skipped a beat. The way Dmitri emphasized the word ‘coworker’ made it obvious he hadn’t cared for the radio host. But exactly how severely had he disliked the man? Enough to kill him?
Kat’s eyes drifted past Dmitri and landed on Marta Sykes. Marta hadn’t moved from the spot where she and Eli had left her. She was watching them with a strange, detached look on her face.
Dmitri regarded Eli. “What does it mean for you now that Sykes is no longer in the picture? You still planning to accept that offer you were telling me about?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Eli replied. “It depends on how much control the station gives me over the format of our morning show now. With John no longer around to call the shots, they could be more receptive to my ideas.”
Kat absorbed that. So Eli’s new opportunity had been in the works even before John’s death. Even so, she couldn’t completely cross him off the suspect list. It sounded as if he and his co-host hadn’t always seen eye to eye on how their show should operate.
Dmitri took a step back. “I ought to check on Diane. Sorry to trouble you folks.”
“It was no trouble,” Eli said.
Dmitri strode over to Diane and crouched next
to her chair. When she looked up, he extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it.
“Well,” Eli said, clapping his hands together, “shall we go rejoin Marta?”
“Sure.” Once they had traveled out of Dmitri and Diane’s earshot, Kat said, “I take it you know Dmitri?”
“We met last night.” Eli chuckled. “Being two of the few people in the room with more testosterone than estrogen, we bonded.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Kat said, trying to sound as though she were simply making casual conversation.
“Yep.”
Kat waited, but it soon became clear Eli didn’t plan to elaborate. She felt a twinge of disappointment. Although, really, what had she expected? That Eli would announce he and Dmitri had shared a mutual dislike of John Sykes and joined forces to strangle him with his own scarf?
Marta clasped her hands in front of her when Eli and Kat drew closer. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Eli replied. “She just had a bit of a shock when she found out about John’s death.”
Except for turning to look at Dmitri and Diane, Marta barely reacted to Eli’s pronouncement. She looked a little too stoic for a woman who had been widowed less than sixteen hours ago.
“Do you know them?” Kat asked Marta.
“No, but I recall seeing her last night. She was one of the shameless harlots fawning over John.”
Kat rocked backward, surprised by Marta’s choice of words. Maybe she wasn’t as stoic as she appeared to be at first glance.
“I wonder if he was sleeping with her,” Marta added matter-of-factly.
Eli let out a nervous laugh. “Now, Marta.”
Marta eyed him. “What?”
“We don’t want Kat getting the wrong impression,” Eli said.
“Why not? It’s not like I have to worry about John’s ratings being impacted by rumors of his infidelity anymore. And now that he’s gone, I see no point in continuing to pretend our marriage was something it wasn’t.”
Eli shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and shifted his weight between his feet. “Considering how John died, it’s not in your best interests to remind people you had motive to kill him.”
