A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery)

by Laura Morrigan

  Drop Shots was a sports bar with an overload of video and arcade games. Even for a laid-back Monday, it was a stretch for Emma.

  “You want to go to Drop Shots?”

  “Kevin and the other guys from the dojo want to redeem themselves after I creamed them this morning.”

  “By doing what? Beating you at pinball?”

  “Sad, I know. But they’ve promised to pay for every round of drinks if they lose.”

  An hour later, I found myself with a belly full of fried pickles and cheese sticks, sipping a beer and playing Skee-Ball, a game at which, for some mystical reason, I excelled.

  Emma high-fived me when I made yet another perfect score, leaving Kevin and his friends no hope of catching up.

  After some smack talk about cheating and being hustled they went to the bar to fetch the drinks as promised.

  “You’re a Skee-Ball ace. Who knew?” Emma said.

  “Not me,” I laughed, marveling at the fact that I was actually having a good time.

  I’d called Kai to invite him but, as I predicted, he’d had to work. So I was surprised when Emma nudged me and said, “Look who’s here. Good job, little sister.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Kai weaving through the crowd toward us. He saw me and smiled, making my stomach do that odd swooping thing. I looked away.

  “All I did was call him,” I told Emma.

  “See how easy it is?” She grinned and turned to say hello to Kai before moving past him to add another beer to the tab.

  “I thought you had to work.”

  “Finished up early.” He assessed the scoreboard. “Looks like you’re the reigning Skee-Ball champion.”

  “One of my many hidden talents.”

  “How are you at pool?” he asked, motioning to a free table.

  “Let’s find out.”

  We staked our claim on the table and I quickly realized two things: One—I was really bad at pool. Two—I had no desire to improve.

  Not that the game was boring—it wasn’t. In fact, my heart rate was increasing steadily the longer we played.

  This was due more to Kai’s teaching method than the game. Every time I went to line up a shot he would lean in behind me. The solid muscles of his chest brushed against my back as he covered my hands with his and guided the cue.

  Occasionally, his lips grazed my ear as he explained the whys and hows of the game, sending a thrill of goose bumps fluttering down my neck.

  It completely wrecked my concentration. Which was not a problem in the least.

  Truth be told, I didn’t care much about learning how to hit the little white ball into the other balls. But I certainly didn’t want Kai to stop trying to explain it to me.

  Eventually, the inevitable happened. Kai sank the eight ball and the game, and my lesson, were over.

  We yielded the table to the next players and made our way back to where Emma and her crew were.

  Introductions were made and Emma said, “We’re going to do Big Game Hunter next. You two want to join us?”

  “Yes, because I so enjoy shooting animals.”

  “Virtual animals,” Emma corrected.

  “I’ll pass.”

  “I have to do enough shooting for work,” Kai said and Emma turned to join her posse, which had already moved on to the game.

  “That reminds me,” Kai said. “I ran a background check on Paul McGee. Ozeal’s maintenance guy has never been arrested or in any kind of trouble.”

  “That’s surprising. Paul admitted to having a drinking problem. I assumed he’d at least been ticketed for public intoxication or something.”

  “Nope. Not a spot on his record. Not that it means much. The BTK killer had never even gotten a speeding ticket, and all the while he was happily murdering people.”

  “A cheerful thought.”

  “Maybe this will perk you up—I may have found something on Bob Ligner.”

  “Consider me perked.”

  “It’s nothing solid. A domestic disturbance back in the days before they were taken seriously. I’m trying to track down his ex wife—one of three, by the way—to get more details.”

  “Bob Ligner has been married four times?”

  “Must be his animal magnetism.”

  I made a face.

  Kai lifted a shoulder. “He has to have some sort of charm.”

  “He’s a narcissistic batterer—of course he’s charming. Men like Ligner are masters at hiding the truth. They manipulate. The world never suspects how twisted they are.” My eyes automatically tracked to Emma. “Their victims never see it until it’s too late.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I yanked my gaze away from my sister, but Kai had known I was talking about her.

  “It doesn’t matter. Emma survived.” Barely. “Right now, I’m worried about Brooke and her mother.”

  “I might be able to come up with a reason to bring Ligner in.”

  “Really?”

  “Not related to Brooke or even his wife, but I can see if there’s anything shady going on with his business. Dig a little deeper into his past relationships.”

  “Shake the tree and see what falls out?”

  “Why not?”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Officially, no.” He grinned, a rebellious gleam sparking in his eyes. “But I will. On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  His smile faded as he locked his gaze on mine. “You have to promise to stay away from Bob Ligner. No more tailing. No more trespassing.”

  “Deal.”

  • • •

  I didn’t keep my promise.

  I’d wanted to, but the next morning as I sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean, I remembered Felix.

  The cat might have more to worry about than missing a few meals. Pets could be used as a tool to hurt the people who cared about them. Refusing to feed the cat was a bad sign. I wouldn’t put it past Ligner to take Felix to the pound, or worse.

  “Don’t do it.”

  My sister’s voice snatched me out of my dark thoughts.

  “What?” I asked as she sat at the patio table next to me.

  “Whatever you’re making that face over.”

  “I wasn’t making a face.”

  “Yes you were. You were making this face.” She squinted her eyes and pressed her lips together until they formed a bloodless line.

  “Attractive.”

  “It’s your plotting face.” She did it again.

  “You look constipated.”

  “No, that’s different. See the eyebrow?” She made the face and pointed at one arched brow. “It means you’re thinking about doing something you shouldn’t.”

  I shrugged.

  Emma leaned back and took a sip of her tea.

  Waiting me out.

  I avoided discussing domestic violence with Emma, even though it didn’t bother or upset her. I couldn’t say the same for myself.

  “Bob Ligner is an abuser. The cat told me.”

  Emma took another sip of tea. “You think he did something to Brooke?”

  “Maybe. He’s capable, without a doubt.”

  “And you’re planning to . . . what? Sic Moss on him and make him talk?”

  “Not a bad idea. But, no. I’m not planning on doing anything to Ligner.”

  “Then why were you making the face?”

  “Because I told Kai I’d stay away from the jerk.”

  “So stay away from him.”

  “I’m worried about Felix, the cat.”

  “Oookay.”

  “You remember my client with the Houdini dogs?”

  “Not offhand.”

  “Nice guy. Single. He had twin boys. He thought his dogs were somehow climbing over his fence because the gate was locked and they’d be loose.”

  “The guy with the crazy ex?”

  “Right. The crazy ex was the one opening the gate.”

  “I guess that answers that question.”


  “What question?”

  “Who let the dogs out?”

  “She did.”

  “Come on—I’m talking about the song.”

  “What song?”

  Emma sang a few bars of a hip-hop song I vaguely remembered hearing in college.

  “I’m trying to make a point here, Em. The crazy ex wanted to hurt those dogs. They could have been lost or hit by a car.”

  “And you want to rescue Felix the cat before something happens to him?”

  “Yes.”

  She angled her head and studied me. “I’m not buying it.”

  “What do you mean? The cat hasn’t eaten—”

  “That may be true and you may have a good reason to be worried but that’s not really the reason you want to break your word to Kai. You want to snoop.”

  “I . . .” Crap, she was right. “Okay. Maybe I do, but so what? I might find something useful.”

  “Or, you might get caught.”

  “Ligner’s a coward. He wouldn’t do anything to me.”

  “That might be the stupidest thing I have heard you say in a long time.”

  “He already caught me once, and he didn’t do anything then.”

  “Because you made up a good excuse and apologized, right?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Great. Perfect.” She set her teacup down with deliberate care then leaned over the table, propping her weight on her elbows. “You’re telling me you called him out? Challenged him?”

  “It’s not like I went all Lisbeth Salander on him and tattooed ‘I’m an abusive asshole’ on his forehead.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, it’s no big deal.” After her fit of sarcasm, Emma leaned closer. Emotion sparked like fire in her dark eyes. “People like Ligner have to be in control. It means everything to them. Everything. Anyone who can’t be controlled is the enemy.”

  “Works for me.”

  “I’m serious, Grace.”

  “So am I. Ligner can think I’m the queen of England for all I care.”

  “You’re underestimating him. Don’t.” She raised her hand to stop me when I tried to counter her argument. “I know you think Ligner’s a coward. And you’re right. But he’s not stupid. You played your hand. Called his bluff and upped the ante. If you think he’s not stewing over how he can win back the upper hand, you’re wrong.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll be careful. I’ll go pick up Felix and that’s all. No snooping. I won’t even trespass.”

  Emma looked dubious, so I lifted my hand and offered what had always been the most solemn oath between us.

  “Pinky swear.”

  Emma’s lips twitched into a smile and she hooked her little finger to mine.

  • • •

  I pulled into the Ligners’ neighborhood an hour later. I knew Bob Ligner was at work—I’d called his office moments before and was told he was meeting with clients—but, keeping to the pinky promise, I cruised past his house and turned into the next driveway on the street.

  The FOR SALE sign was still out front, there was a lockbox affixed to the front door, and there weren’t any window treatments or other signs of occupancy. The home was vacant. Perfect.

  I hopped out of Bluebell and headed to the side of the house closest to the Ligners’ property. Through the thicket of oleanders, I caught a glimpse of the spot near the trash cans where Bob Ligner and I had had our little heart-to-heart, but could see little else.

  Which was fine. I was here for Felix, not to snoop.

  The gate leading to the vacant backyard was propped open so I strolled through—just another potential home buyer taking a look around.

  Feeling supremely clever, I walked to the privacy fence bordering the Ligners’ property and cast out my mental feelers in search of Felix.

  I found him quickly enough, but not where I’d expected.

  Felix wasn’t in the Ligners’ house or yard. And he wasn’t hungry or frightened. In fact, Felix was sending out super-happy vibes. Waves of contentment rolled through him, and though I couldn’t hear it, I recognized the familiar feline signature.

  Purring.

  Curious, I tried to pinpoint Felix’s location and began moving along the fence toward the far end of the backyard. It was my ears rather than my mind that led me to him.

  “Oh, all right,” a reedy voice said from the other side of the back fence. “I’ll give you a lap for a few minutes.”

  “Meow!”

  I peeked through the space between fence boards to see an elderly woman set her watering can on the ground then ease herself onto a large garden bench. Felix sprang up and into the woman’s ample lap.

  Soft. Nice. His mind was a thrumming ball of happiness.

  I watched Felix settle down into a comfortable ball. The woman scratched him under his chin and his eyes closed in utter bliss.

  Cats.

  My view of the woman’s house was limited, but I could see a small bowl sitting by the back door. I could tell from the full feeling of his belly that Felix had been fed.

  When the woman stopped petting him, Felix opened his eyes to gaze up adoringly at her then gently patted at her arm with a paw.

  “I can’t sit here all day, you know,” the woman chided. “I have daylilies to divide.”

  As only cats and contortionists can, Felix twisted his upper half until his front feet pointed skyward. He continued to make eyes at the woman and began pawing the air.

  Charmer.

  Like so many cats before him, Felix had found the secret to survival: Find a sucker willing to take you in.

  Being a card-carrying member of the Sucker Club, I had to smile.

  I pushed away from the fence, hoping my impending house hunt would yield a place with a nice cat lady next door instead of someone like Emma’s crazed animal-hating neighbor, Mr. Cavanaugh.

  Or worse, a man like Bob Ligner.

  No longer worried about Felix, I turned to head back to Bluebell. I’d make sure to tell Brooke where her cat was when I found her.

  If I found her.

  That sobering thought made me pause as I reached the open gate.

  Temptation bubbled up inside me to take a quick peek over the fence into the Ligners’ backyard and look for . . . for what?

  I would probably do more harm than good snooping around. Kai was looking hard at Ligner. I had to trust he’d find something.

  Plus, I’d pinky sworn.

  My resolve restored, I started through the gate and froze. A sound drifted from next door. Footsteps through the grass and something being dragged. I heard the metallic scrape of the gate latch and the groan of hinges. More dragging, the garbage can lid being opened, something heavy being dumped in the trash, and then . . . a small sob.

  I crept forward and peered through the oleanders.

  Anne Ligner stood with her back to me, facing the open can. I could just make out the top of the black plastic trash bag she’d deposited. Her shoulders shook and, as she slowly closed the lid, I heard her whisper something that chilled me to my core.

  “I’m sorry, Brooke.”

  Then she turned, walked through the gate, and into her backyard. A moment later, I heard the back door slide closed.

  I was surprised I could hear anything with my pulse pounding so hard in my ears. Heart hammering, I stood there for a moment, staring at the trash can.

  Was it possible that Anne Ligner had just dumped her daughter’s body in that can?

  All thoughts of promises gone, I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, crouched, and pushed through the spindly lower limbs of the bushes.

  Scrambling up, I stepped to the can, lifted the lid, and stared down at the thick black plastic.

  Fingers trembling, I reached out and unwound the twist tie that had been used to secure the bag.

  I stopped, hands poised to pull the bag open.

  My breaths came in little ragged puffs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fisted my hands and tried to get a handle on my breathing.

  I rea
lly didn’t want to open the bag.

  I had to open the bag.

  “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Just do it.”

  Forcing myself to obey, I opened my eyes, grabbed the bag, and jerked it open.

  CHAPTER 11

  I did not find a body in the Ligners’ trash.

  The wave of relief threatened to turn my knees to Jell-O, but my curiosity soon had me straightening to reach into the bag.

  It was filled with stuffed animals and other toys. Was this a sign that Anne Ligner knew her daughter was never coming home? I picked up a teddy bear with the words MR. SNUFFLES LOVES YOU! embroidered on his chest and noticed something odd.

  The bear had been sliced open, and his stuffing, or what was left of it, spilled out of a long gash on his back.

  I lifted another plush doll—it, too, had been cut open. A rubber pony was missing its head. The bag was filled with mutilated toys.

  A chill crept over me.

  I retied the bag and got out of there as quickly and quietly as I could.

  Once safely inside Bluebell and on my way out of the neighborhood, I let the litany of curses and questions I’d been stifling spill out.

  “Holy shit! What the hell was that?” I asked aloud.

  “Creepy,” I answered myself. “That was friggin’ creepy.”

  So creepy I decided I needed to grab a doughnut to calm my nerves. I had just taken the first warm bite of my Krispy Kreme chocolate glazed when my phone began singing “Crazy Train.”

  It was Emma calling to check on me. I relayed the story, talking around a mouthful of doughnut.

  “That’s pretty damn creepy,” she said.

  “I know, right? They were murdered, Emma. It was a toy massacre. Who does that?”

  “People who are losing control and want to take it out on something. I think you need to call Kai and tell him about this.”

  I paused to swallow. I didn’t really want to admit to Kai that I’d been to the Ligners’.

  “Just explain that you wanted to check on Felix,” Emma said, reading my mind. “He’ll understand.”

  I wasn’t certain that was true, but I would call him anyway.

  “Hey, Em, we’re looking at houses tomorrow, right?”

  “Yep, the Realtor is supposed to be e-mailing a list of properties in the morning.”

  “Is there a way to do a neighbor check? A screening or something for nutcases?”