Crime and Catnip

by T. C. LoTempio

  Daniel frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning there are lots of other people here with red capes that have hoods.” I crossed my arms over my chest to ward off the sudden chill that snaked down my spine. “I don’t think my attacker was targeting me, specifically. I think I was mistaken for someone else wearing a red cape.”

  Daniel tapped his chin with his forefinger. “You think it was another person dressed as Red Riding Hood?”

  My mind flew immediately to the Red Death. Even though she wore a longer cloak, it was the same shade of tomato red and had a similar hood. To someone who wasn’t particularly fashion conscious, the two items looked pretty similar. I hesitated. I really didn’t want to reveal anything about the argument between Daisy and the woman in red until I found out a bit more about just what was going down, which would entail me tracking down Daisy. I shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be. There are tons of red costumes here, though. It could be any one of them.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then he nodded. “Okay, I’ll check it out.” He draped his arm across my shoulders. “In the meantime, let’s get you back inside.”

  I still felt a bit woozy, so I was glad of Daniel’s strong arms helping to support me. We walked back inside the museum and into the front room. The gala was still in full swing—apparently news of my attack had not gone any further, which I had to admit was a good thing. As people milled around, sampling the desserts, I stood on the fringe of the room with Daniel, looking around. I saw two more Red Riding Hoods (although their costumes weren’t as cute as mine), a couple of red devils, even a fallen angel with red-tinged wings. However, the one I’d christened the Red Death was nowhere to be seen. I thrust my hands into my skirt pockets, then frowned. I’d been certain I’d put the purple stone I’d picked up in the kitchen there, but now both pockets were empty.

  As I debated whether or not to tell Daniel about the stone and the conversation I’d overheard, Samms glided up to us. He stared at me, his arms folded across his burly chest, and if I didn’t know better, I could almost swear that was a look of genuine concern on his face. “Everything okay here?”

  “Yes,” I responded, tapping at my temple. “As I told Daniel, I’ve got a pretty hard head.”

  Samms looked as if he wanted to say something, but then Daniel pulled him to one side. Chantal appeared at my elbow, bearing a mug of hot tea. “Cinnamon ginger. It will relax you.” She pressed it into my hand. “What a shame, chérie. Things were going so well. I hope Daniel and Samms can catch whoever’s responsible.” She held her wrist up in front of my eyes and pointed to her watch. “Shouldn’t the exhibit unveiling be starting soon?”

  I nodded. “Daisy should be here to make the formal announcement,” I murmured.

  “Now that you mention it, chérie, I have not seen Little Bo Peep in quite a while.”

  I set the mug down on the edge of one of the long tables, the vision of Daisy and the woman in red arguing sharp in my mind’s eye. “She might have gotten sidetracked with something. Maybe we should look for her.”

  I started forward, but Chantal grabbed my arm. “Not so fast. Your attacker is still walking around out there. We need some protection.”

  My lips twitched. “What, like a gun?”

  My friend laughed. “No, like a big strong man. I see Rick over there.” She inclined her head toward the other end of the room. “Wait here and I’ll get him. Don’t move.”

  She glided off and melted into the crowd before I could protest. I tried to keep my eyes fixed on her, but it was impossible in the sea of brightly colored bodies flitting from table to table, to the bar and back again. A light-headed feeling stole over me and I leaned against the doorjamb for some extra support. Suddenly I felt something furry and warm wind itself around my ankles. I looked down at the black pool of fur curled around my feet and let out a little cry.

  “How the devil did you get here?”

  Nick raised his paw, clawed the air.

  I bent down to rub his head. “You always turn up at the most unexpected times,” I murmured. “Almost as if you’re my personal guardian angel.”

  Nick opened his mouth, wide and long, flashing white fangs and crimson tongue. “You must have snuck into the van when we were loading the trays,” I murmured. “My bad,” I told the cat. “I’ll take the heat for being careless, although with you I should know better.”

  Nick’s claws shot out and embedded themselves in the hem of my skirt. “Yer-owl,” he said, giving the fabric a little tug.

  “Hey, hey,” I cried, disengaging his shivs from the gingham. “Take it easy, will ya? These are rented goods, Nick. I can’t bring them back damaged.”

  He thumped his tail twice and then raised his paw and began to lick it.

  I sighed. “Look, we’ve got to get you out of here, buddy, before your presence is noticed. Pets weren’t invited to this soiree. Plus, I’ve got to track down Daisy and ask her a few questions.”

  He regarded me with his catly stare, then got up and made for the doorway. Could it really be this easy? I jumped up and followed him as he trotted down the hall. He cantered past the closed exhibition hall doors and made a left.

  “Nick,” I hissed. “You’re going the wrong way. The car is that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction. Nick glanced over one shoulder at me and then trotted on, making another left, leaving me no choice but to follow. As I passed, I could see Samms, Daniel, and Broncelli in front of the grimoire room, surrounded by half a dozen policemen.

  “Merow!” Nick squatted at the end of the hallway, his tail thumping impatiently against the carpet. “Merow!”

  “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” I put my finger to my lips. “Not so loud.”

  I started down the hall. Nick picked himself up and trotted off, and I hurried to keep up with him. We went down another long corridor, made two more turns, and then we were in a deserted display room, where he plopped himself in front of a large oak door on the far wall. He meowed softly and began to rub his body against it. Then he raised himself up on his hind legs and scratched at the wood with his shivs.

  “Meower.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and when his actions elicited no response, he started to scratch harder. “Meower,” he said, more insistently this time.

  I frowned. Usually when Nick got into this mode nothing good resulted from it; in fact, it usually led to finding someone dead. I looked again at Nick, who had stopped scratching and was now running around in a circle in front of the door.

  “Fine. But there had better not be a you-know-what inside here.”

  I twisted the knob and the door swung inward, almost hitting another furry shape crouched behind it. The cat that charged at me out of the darkness had a white body and an orange and white face. Its fluffy white tail waved like a flag signaling surrender. It landed on all four paws and stood, back arched, bright blue eyes glittering.

  “Yowl!”

  I looked at Nick, who’d sat back on his haunches and was calmly regarding the newcomer. “Is this what you wanted me to find, Nick? You wanted me to let this cat out of here?” I made an impatient gesture. “I told you I had things to do.”

  I could swear that Nick shook his head. “Meeoow,” he yowled.

  The other cat turned around twice, echoed Nick’s cry, and then shot like a guided missile back through the door. I peered cautiously inside. The room beyond was black as midnight, and I had no flashlight—nor did I have the cat’s extraordinary range of night vision. I felt along the wall and found a switch, which I flipped. Illumination revealed a flight of steps leading downward into what was most likely a basement or a storage area. Nick and the other cat were halfway down the stairs. Both paused, turned and looked at me, and meowed plaintively.

  “I do not have a good feeling about this,” I muttered. I cautiously crept down the stairway, emerging into what appeared to be the muse
um storeroom, filled to overflowing capacity with boxes, cabinets, and trunks of varying sizes. I walked over to one and read the white-and-red printed label:

  PROPERTY OF MEECHAM EXHIBIT

  “Oh great,” I muttered. This was obviously the place where the packing materials were stored for the exhibit articles. The cats were dashing madly around the room—off to a large trunk on the left side, then back to me, around in a circle, and then back to the trunk. The orange and white cat began to mew pitifully as Nick chased a few red threads on the floor. Fighting the tingling feeling inching up my spine, I moved forward and saw a black Mary Jane dangling over the trunk’s side, partially obscured by a swath of red satin.

  With a sinking feeling, I walked all the way around, stopped, and bit back a scream.

  Daisy Martinelli sat sprawled in the trunk’s center, her neck cocked at an awkward angle, the red scarf tied around it pooled like a puddle of blood in her lap. One finger was caught in the scarf’s frayed edge, almost as if she were pointing. Her sightless eyes stared straight ahead, and a little bit of drool trickled out of the side of her mouth. Her arms were tangled in the folds of a scarlet cape looped carelessly around her shoulders.

  I didn’t need to feel her pulse to see that she was quite, quite dead.

  Rats.

  THIRTEEN

  “So you found another body.”

  The words rolled off Samms’s tongue almost as if he were pronouncing a curse. He hooked his thumbs in the loops of his belt and stared at me, brows drawn together. “You’ve really got to stop doing this,” he continued. “Being a magnet for death isn’t a real attractive quality for a woman.”

  “I am not a magnet for death,” I huffed back.

  “Okay, fine. Your cat is, then. Have you considered maybe giving him up and adopting a Yorkie? Or a King Charles Cavalier spaniel?”

  “Never happening, pal.” I didn’t add that if I were to adopt a canine, I’d probably choose a Rottweiler. Or a Doberman. Something with a lot of bite. “I’m a cat person.”

  “I figured. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.”

  I bit my lip, swung my legs off the divan I’d been lying on, and stood up. I felt a bit shaky but otherwise okay, so I began to pace back and forth across the small room I’d been confined to with Samms. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

  “Till your boyfriend arrives,” Samms said with a grunt. He slid a glance over toward the doorway and added, “Here he is now.”

  Daniel crossed the room in two long strides and enfolded me in his arms. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled against his shirt. His arms felt good, and I leaned into him. “It’s been quite a night, though.” I lifted my head to look into his eyes. “How did Violet and Nan take the news?”

  “Better than expected,” Daniel admitted. “Nan was her usual dramatic self, moaning about what a nice, efficient person Daisy was and who would want to murder her, while Violet was more concerned how it would affect the fund-raising portion of the evening.”

  “That sounds like Violet, but in spite of the brave front she puts up, I’m sure she’s just as upset. She seemed genuinely fond of Daisy.” I pushed the heel of my hand through my hair and peered up at Daniel. “Is everything all right with the exhibit?”

  The smile faded from Daniel’s face, replaced by an expression I could only describe as stonier than any president’s on Mount Rushmore. Before he could answer me Samms walked over and clapped a hand on his arm. “If Nora’s up to it, we really should get her statement now,” he said quietly. “We should get the facts while they’re still fresh in her mind.”

  Daniel flashed Samms an odd look. “True, but I’m not certain she feels up to that right now.”

  “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “I can give a statement now. The sooner, the better. I’d really like to get it over with.” I sat back down on the divan and folded my hands in my lap. “Chantal and I noticed that it was almost time for the exhibit to start and Daisy wasn’t anywhere around. We thought we’d go look for her, and Chantal went to find Rick so he could act as our bodyguard. I felt something warm and furry by my ankles and I saw that somehow Nick had gotten into the gala. I knew I had to get Nick out of there, but all of a sudden he took off down the hall. He led me right to the storage room door. I opened it, and a cat jumped out—”

  “Wait . . . another cat?” both Daniel and Samms chorused in unison. I half expected one of them to call out “jinx” any second.

  I nodded. “Yes, an orange and white one. Anyway, Nick and this other cat kept meowing and running around in circles, and then they raced down the cellar stairs, so I followed them, and there she was, sprawled dead in that trunk.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “She was strangled, right?”

  “I can’t say officially till the coroner delivers his report, but it appears so, yes,” Daniel said.

  A mental picture of Daisy’s body rose before me, and I visualized the ribbon of red looped around her neck. I pursed my lips, trying to remember if the woman in the Red Death costume had been wearing a red scarf. I glanced up and saw both Samms and Daniel looking at me somewhat expectantly.

  Samms placed a hand on each hip. “Perhaps you noticed something strange, or something struck you as out of the ordinary tonight? You’ve got good instincts, after all.”

  I eyed him. An actual compliment? Would wonders never cease? “I did see Daisy arguing with some people here tonight.”

  Daniel reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black notebook and pen. “Did you recognize any of them?”

  “Yes. One is an exhibit worker. Her name is Magda. She’s not a very pleasant person. I heard them arguing at the beginning of the evening. She got pretty rough with Daisy.”

  “In what way?”

  I scrunched my lips up as I tried to remember her exact wording. “She said she knew what game Daisy was playing and it wouldn’t work. Daisy told her to mind her own business. Then Magda implied that Reynaud might not trust Daisy, and it would be wise not to cross her.”

  Samms cocked a brow. “She threatened her?”

  I nodded. “It certainly sounded that way.”

  Daniel scribbled something in his notebook. “Who else?”

  “Daisy had a brief exchange with Reynaud. He mentioned a matter they’d been discussing, and he told her it would be settled tonight, one way or another. She didn’t exactly look thrilled by this.”

  “Interesting. Any idea what this ‘matter’ was?”

  I shook my head. Daniel mumbled “Hm” again and scribbled more in his notebook. “Any more confrontations with anyone else?”

  I hesitated. Part of me felt I should let Daniel and Samms know about Daisy’s argument with the mysterious Red Death, but my gut was telling me that despite what I’d witnessed, the woman in red was no more responsible for Daisy’s death than I was. Right now, my money was on either Magda or Reynaud, with Magda in the driver’s seat.

  I shook my head. “Nope. That’s all.”

  Samms’s steely gaze bored into me. “Are you sure?”

  “Well . . . there is one more thing.” I cleared my throat. “When I was attacked earlier, I remember seeing a flash of black before I conked out. It could have been someone wearing a black cloak, or costume . . . or with long, black hair.” I paused. “That woman Magda has very long, greasy hair, the color of midnight.”

  Daniel frowned. “You think this Magda attacked you? Why would she?”

  I chuckled. “Well, I’ve had a run-in with her myself, but I still think I was mistaken for someone else tonight. And Daisy had a red cape on when I found her.”

  Samms looked at Daniel. “That’s right, she did. But earlier in the evening she had on a black one.”

  “Hm, good point. Why did she switch capes? Or did she? We’ll have to check on that.” Daniel snapped his notebook shut and held out his hand to me. “Oka
y, Nora. You’ve been a big help. Come on. I’ll get someone to take you home. You need to get some rest after the night you’ve had.”

  I ignored the proffered hand. “Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not leaving. I’ve been around a crime scene or two in my day, you know. I could be helpful.”

  “Or you could still be in danger,” he said.

  “I agree with Dan,” said Samms. “This isn’t the time for you to switch back into investigative reporter mode.”

  I planted my feet apart and glared at both of them. “Nick is still missing. I’m not leaving here without him.”

  “For all we know, your cat might be back at your house,” Daniel suggested. “Animals can be remarkably resilient when it comes to returning to the place that houses their food bowl.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time Nick had found his own way home, but I wasn’t about to be put off so easily. “Maybe, but I want to make sure he’s not hiding anyplace around here before I desert him.”

  “Stubborn as usual,” Samms muttered to Daniel. He turned to me. “I know from past experience arguing with you does no good. You always somehow manage to find a way to do just exactly what you want.”

  I tossed him a smug grin. “Yes, and it took years of practice to perfect that technique.”

  Daniel looked at me, then at Samms, then back to me and shrugged. “Fine. You can stay until we find your cat. Then you go home. Understood?”

  I bobbed my head up and down. “Certainly.”

  “And you stay out of the way of the investigating team. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  I smiled sweetly, hoping neither of them noticed my fingers crossed behind my back.

  * * *

  I’m no stranger to murder scenes. It doesn’t mean I like them, by any stretch of the imagination; it just means I know my way around ’em. The storage area where I’d found Daisy’s body was now cordoned off with familiar yellow-and-black tape. I saw a black gurney just off to the left, a sure sign the coroner and his team were downstairs, no doubt also accompanied by a forensic photographer. I walked swiftly past, not caring to see Daisy’s body transported up in a black body bag.