Crime and Catnip

by T. C. LoTempio

  I set down my cup and leaned forward. “So it wasn’t just the red stone? They all have writing in them?”

  Alexa nodded. “The jewels are really all a formula for a highly sophisticated nerve gas. According to Doris’s source, there was a contact within the Meecham Foundation who secretly worked for an undercover organization, and they intended to switch the stones and transport them to a lab in the United States. So Doris hit upon an idea. She wanted me to steal the stones first.”

  My eyes flew open. “Good Lord. Talk about a nutty, dangerous idea!”

  Alexa chuckled. “Yes, in hindsight it did have a lot of flaws. Doris, however, saw an opportunity to impress her contact and get a Pulitzer Prize–winning front-page story. She talked me into breaking into the foundation and taking the stones.” She paused. “What we didn’t count on was someone else breaking in on the same night, with the same idea.”

  My eyebrows rose. “So someone else was there to steal the stones?”

  “Apparently there was someone else involved, besides the mole in Meecham, who also wanted the stones to sell to a different foreign power. Lord only knows what might have happened if the guard had not come in when he did. I managed to get away with the red stone, but I was shot in the side, and I ended up taking a header out the window. Fortunately Doris was there and she came to my aid. I woke up in a hospital two days later. Turns out the bullet had only grazed my side, but I’d suffered a mild concussion, two broken ribs, and a broken wrist from the fall.” Her lips twisted into a rueful grin. “When I was in college a friend of mine was drunk and fell off the roof of the sorority house. She suffered similar injuries. The doctor said it was because her whole body had gone limp when she fell. Thank God that was what happened to me.” She let out a breath. “After that we both decided that it was best for Alexa Martin to disappear. She feared whoever was involved at Meecham could easily uncover my past and put two and two together. I vanished, changed my appearance and my name, and took a flight back to America a week later. I settled in Carmel, got a part-time job in a bar. That’s how I met Nick.”

  “And the other stones?”

  “They remained untouched in the grimoire until the night of the gala. Someone switched them.”

  I nodded, remembering I’d thought the stones had looked different in the photograph. “And of course they realized they were missing one.”

  “I believe they knew that going in, and suspected Doris of having it. I think that’s why she was killed.”

  “Do you have any theories on who the inside person might be.”

  “Doris was fairly certain Reynaud was involved. Even though the man’s past looks excellent on paper, Doris recently was able to uncover the fact he contributed a good amount of funds to an underground group suspected of terrorism.”

  “What were you two arguing about the night of the gala? I was outside the kitchen and heard you. I remember she said something about you being in danger.”

  “She was pretty sure that Reynaud overheard Violet tell Nan about asking you to find out what happened to her niece. She felt Reynaud knew I was alive, and that I had the stone. She feared for my safety, as I feared for hers.”

  “What did she want you to do that night?”

  “She wanted me to steal the remaining stones. She’d worked out a plan to lure the guard away from his post so that I could slip in and switch them.”

  “Sending him a text from his superior?” I nibbled at my lower lip. If that were the case, she must have been killed immediately afterward.

  “I am not sure how she intended to distract the guard, but at the last minute, she told me to abort the plan. She’d discovered something—she wouldn’t tell me what—that led her to believe someone else was involved, and it might not be Reynaud after all. She said she didn’t want to move forward until she was certain.”

  “And you have no idea what she might have found out that changed her mind?”

  “No. She said it was too dangerous and the less I knew, the better.” She gave a short laugh. “I got mad and pushed her and threw my cape at her. I was horrified when I found out there was a red cape wrapped around her body.”

  “Doris was strangled with a red scarf—were you wearing one? I couldn’t remember.”

  Alexa shook her head. “No. Anyway, I did not kill her, no matter what the police will think.”

  “I believe you. Did you happen to drop anything in the corridor behind the kitchen that night? A small purple stone?” When Alexa shook her head, I added, “I found one lying there when I was looking for you and Doris. Then I got conked on the head myself. Right before I blacked out, someone whispered, ‘Watch your step, Red. You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you.’ Shortly after, I realized the stone was missing. I wasn’t sure if I’d just lost it or if whoever knocked me out took it.”

  “As far as I know, the only stones of any value are the red, green, and blue ones. I know nothing about a purple stone. It would make more sense that in your red cape, you were mistaken for me.”

  I got up, went into the den, and returned with the pouch. I pulled out the stone and slip of paper and laid them in front of Alexa. “This was in the pouch with the red stone. Do you recognize the numbers on that paper?”

  She picked it up and studied it. “It could be a numeric code,” she said at last. “I am not very good at cracking them, however.”

  “I’ve recently gotten a crash course in just that subject.” I scraped my chair back, got a pad and pen from one of the drawers, and sat back down. I wrote out each letter of the alphabet, and then at the top of the page wrote down the numbers:

  318 4181516.

  Following Mollie’s method, the numeric message now became:

  CAH DROP.

  Alexa wrinkled her nose. “That makes no sense, does it? What is a cah drop?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea.” I stared at the paper for another minute or two, and then something clicked in my head. I looked up at Alexa excitedly. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe it’s not a code at all. Maybe it’s something much simpler—like a phone number. Geez, I should have thought of that right away! Dummy!” I gave my forehead a resounding slap.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Alexa said. “Sometimes the most obvious answer is the most overlooked one.”

  “True.” I pointed to the first group of numbers. “318 could be an area code.”

  “There are enough numbers in the sequence it could be a phone number,” Alexa agreed. “318-418-1516. I wonder if it is.”

  “One way to find out.”

  I went into the den, returning a few seconds later with my cell phone. I punched in the number and hit the speaker button. A few seconds later we heard, “Monroe Homicide.”

  “Sorry, I dialed wrong,” I murmured and disconnected. “Why would Doris have put the Monroe Homicide’s number in with the stone?”

  “To hide it? She must have had a reason.”

  Something clawed at the edge of my consciousness, some memory that wouldn’t break free. I looked at Alexa. “Let’s go downstairs. I have the gala photos in the shop. I want to go over them again. I have a feeling the answer to all this is somewhere in those pictures.”

  I locked the stone back in my desk, slid my phone into my pocket, and then Alexa and I went back down the stairs and into Hot Bread, Nick following close behind. The gala pictures were still where I’d thrown them when Nick went wild, on the back table. I motioned for Alexa to sit down and then I handed her a stack of photos. “Look these over.”

  “Sure. What am I looking for, exactly?”

  I bit down on my lower lip. “That’s the devil of it. I’m not sure exactly. I’m hoping something will just hit me when I see it.”

  I thumbed through the pictures in front of me, and suddenly there it was, staring me right in the face. I picked the photo up, peered at it closely, and then
suddenly it made sense. Crazy sense, maybe, but . . . sense. I held the photo out toward Nick.

  Nick glanced at it, then let out a loud yowl.

  “I’m glad you agree,” I said.

  Alexa looked at me sharply. “You’ve found something?”

  I nodded slowly. “I think I’ve figured out who the person is who wants the stone, and who killed Doris . . . Now I just need to find a way to prove it.”

  A muffled thunk from the front of the shop made me pause.

  “What was that?”

  “It sounds as if something fell,” said Alexa, but I put a finger to my lips. We sat in silence for a few more minutes, but all remained quiet.

  “I guess it was nothing,” I began, and then paused again as the bell over the front door gave a quick jingle and then stopped, almost as if a hand had clamped it to prevent making any more noise. A second later we both heard an unmistakable creak, and our eyes locked.

  Someone else was in the shop.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I rose from my chair, my heart beating a rapid tattoo in my chest as I considered my options. I put a finger to my lips and eased my cell phone out of my pocket. I punched the 1—Daniel’s number—and bit back a cry as it went to voicemail. I was just about to shoot off a text when a message popped up on my screen: BATTERY LOW. “Swell,” I muttered. “I’ve got to remember to charge this thing.” Praying there was enough juice in it for one quick text, I dashed one off to Daniel . . . SOS. Then I slid the phone into my pocket and leaned closer to Alexa.

  “I shot Daniel a text, but just in case he doesn’t get it, I think we should make a run for it.”

  Alexa nodded agreement and we tiptoed toward the back door, Nick padding along silently at our heels. I was just about to turn the knob on the back door when it hit me.

  “The stone,” I hissed. “I don’t want to leave it here, especially since I’m pretty sure that’s what they’re after.” I pressed my car keys into Alexa’s hand. “The Lake’s Bakery truck was blocking my driveway when I came back. I’ve got a rental right now. It’s the silver SUV parked down the block. Go find Daniel and Samms. They’re most likely at the police station, and bring them back here—fast.” I gave her a little push. “No one else. Got it?”

  She looked at me, her face pale. “Yes, but I don’t like leaving you alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’ve got Nick. Now go . . . fast.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. Alexa vanished out the back way and I turned around toward the stairway that led to my apartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a dark shadow moving silently and swiftly through the store. I frowned. If I crossed over to my apartment entrance, I’d be in plain view of the intruder. The door to the basement was over to my left. If I could get downstairs, there was another exit that led around the back and I could enter my apartment from the outside entrance. Making up my mind swiftly, I veered to the left and slowly eased open the basement door. I groped for the light switch, groaning softly as I remembered the bulb had blown and I hadn’t replaced it yet. Gritting my teeth, I plunged down the steps in the pitch black, staying to the right to avoid the creaky spots on the steps, feeling my way with my sweaty palm pressed against the cold cement wall.

  Upstairs, I could hear light footsteps padding around. Then I heard several loud clangs and realized whoever it was must be pulling my pots and pans off the wall.

  Of course. They’d already searched my apartment for the stone and come up empty—now they were searching my store. I shuffled forward a little faster. If I didn’t hurry up, Hot Bread might be declared a disaster area.

  It seemed like an eternity had passed until I reached the doorway. I started to open the door, and the ensuing creak sounded like a thunderclap in the stillness. I paused, then slowly began to inch the door open again. It still creaked, but not as loudly. I finally got the door all the way open and I hurried up the short flight of stone steps into the alleyway behind the store. I paused for a minute, sucking the fresh air into my lungs, my heart still in my throat—and then a heavy arm snaked around my throat and a heavy hand clamped over my mouth and nose.

  “You think you are so clever,” a raspy voice whispered in my ear.

  I knew that raspy voice. Magda!

  I struggled to pull her hand away, but the old woman held on like a magnet. She was, apparently, much stronger than she looked. She swung me around and gave me a push back toward the way I had come.

  “We wouldn’t want anyone to see us, now, would we?” She leered as she jabbed a hard object into the small of my back, something that felt painfully like the cold barrel of a gun.

  We went back through the basement and up the stairs. When we reached the store, Magda shoved me down on the floor and then towered over me, brandishing the gun as if it were a lasso. I crab-walked backward, right into a pile of my good pots on the floor.

  “What the hell do you want?” I blazed, hoping I sounded indignant instead of how I really felt.

  She crouched over me, her horsey face shadowed in darkness, and laughed evilly in my ear. “I think you know what I want. You have the stone. You have to have it. It wasn’t in Daisy’s room, and you were there. You took it. Give it back.”

  “If I had it,” I answered, “I surely wouldn’t give it to you. That stone, and the others, belong in the possession of the US government.”

  Magda gave a loud snort, as if she found my comment highly amusing. I plunged on. “Daisy, or should I say Doris, knew someone from the Meecham Foundation was involved. She’d originally suspected your brother.”

  Another snort. “Reynaud has rather . . . unique political associations, but he is not a traitor. Me, on the other hand . . . well someone had to bring money into the family.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Reynaud has always tried to look out for me. He never liked the people I hang out with, but I make much money from being associated with them, more than my stupid brother ever will at that museum. He almost ruined everything. He found the stones I planned to switch in my locker.”

  That explained what I’d seen the night of the murder. It had been Reynaud trying to protect his sister, not commit a crime. “You got them back from him, though, and you did switch them.”

  She gave me a peculiar look and shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I never touched them.”

  I frowned. “Are you telling me the truth? Doris had an inkling of what you intended to do. Isn’t that why you killed her?”

  Her frown deepened into a scowl. She shook her long, greasy hair so it cascaded over one shoulder. “I did not kill that girl,” she rasped. “I did not kill anyone. I am a smuggler, not a murderer.”

  “Then if it wasn’t you, it had to be the person you partnered with. The other thief. Someone very clever, someone no one would ever suspect in a million years, because of his position and reputation.”

  “Very good, Ms. Charles. You are quite the sleuth.”

  He’d melded out of the shadows so silently, I wondered how long he’d been there. Curtis Broncelli glared down at me, then he leaned down, grabbed me by my upper arms, and hoisted me to my feet as if I were nothing more than a rag doll. “How long have you known I was involved?”

  “Not long. Tonight, actually. Something bothered me when I figured out those numbers weren’t a code, but a phone number for Monroe Homicide. I remembered hearing you’d worked at Monroe Homicide at one point. Then, when I was looking over the photos of the gala, it suddenly hit me. In one shot that was taken early in the evening, you were wearing a tie tack with a purple stone. Later on, in another photo, the tie tack was gone. I’d found a purple stone outside the rear entrance to the kitchen, right where Alexa and Daisy had been arguing.” I touched the back of my head gingerly. “You knocked me out,” I accused. “That flash of black I saw was the black suit you wore that night. You must have seen me pick up the stone and you knocked me out to get it back, and whispered
that warning in my ear.”

  “It’s a distinctive tie tack. I received it for twenty years of meritorious service with the Secret Service. When I saw the stone was missing, I knew I had to get it back because someone, no doubt, would put two and two together, as you did. You can imagine my chagrin when I saw you pick it up. You, of all people. The girl Daniel’d been bragging about.”

  Daniel? Bragging about me? I felt a sudden surge of pride.

  He shrugged. “A trifle over the top, perhaps, but desperate times . . .” He let the rest of the sentence hang.

  I decided to go for broke. “One or both of you searched my apartment, and ran me off the road the night of the gala.”

  Magda bared all her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Guilty on both counts. And, as you well know, I did not find what I was looking for.”

  I remembered Nick sprinting out the car window with the pouch, but said nothing. I frowned and looked quickly around.

  Where was Nick?

  Broncelli kept on talking. “You’ve got that stone here somewhere. I know you do. We’ve kept pretty close tabs on you. It’s doubtful you’ve hidden it anywhere else. Although you might have given it to that pretty friend of yours, the one who owns the flower shop, for safekeeping. We just might have to try her next.”

  “Leave Chantal out of this,” I growled. “She doesn’t have it.”

  “Then tell us where it is.”

  I clamped my lips together and glared. Broncelli leaned closer so that his nose almost touched mine. “I’ve got a very angry Chinese national who very much wants the complete formula, for which I need the original stone. I’m sure you can imagine what he’ll do to me if he doesn’t get it, so I’d advise you to stop stalling and tell me where it is.”