Crime and Catnip

by T. C. LoTempio

  I sighed. I knew that stance. It meant he wasn’t inclined to budge till he got his way. Apparently my promise of a celebration wasn’t good enough to dissuade him from wanting to accompany me. “Listen, bud, I know you want to protect me but it won’t take long. And I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  The eyes narrowed and he grumbled deep in his throat, almost as if to say, Who worries about who?

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I know how to deal with your mood, mister.”

  I hurried into the kitchen to open a can of Fancy Feast yellowfin tuna, his very favorite. He came running the minute I popped the tab on the can. I filled his food bowl and he wasted no time in hunkering down in front of it. As he slurped up the tuna, I slung my purse over one shoulder and paused, my hand on the doorknob. “Works every time.” I chuckled. “Oh, and just in case I’m not back in a half hour, you have my permission to do whatever it is you do to go get Daniel and bring him to the museum.”

  I heard a soft meow as I pulled the door shut.

  * * *

  The museum was shrouded in darkness when I pulled into the parking lot, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew there would be no more guards since the grimoire mystery had been solved, and none of the office staff seemed to be working late tonight. I parked far back, under a spreading elm, and made my way toward the rear service entrance, thanking God I hadn’t had a chance to return the kitchen key. I let myself inside and moved silently and swiftly down the corridor into the main lobby, up the stairs and past the offices into the employee’s locker room. Just as before, only a few of the lockers had shiny locks dangling from their handles; I hoped the one I sought wouldn’t. I started pulling open doors, and midway through the first line I gave a short intake of breath and stepped back.

  Bingo. I reached inside and pulled out the long black dress. I hung it on the front of the locker and held it out by the sides, inspecting it carefully. I turned the edge of one sleeve up, and my breath caught in my throat.

  Several small red strands clung there.

  I remembered something a fellow reporter had said to me once: It’s always the ones you least suspect you’ve got to keep your eye on. Well, that was certainly true in this case.

  I eased my phone out of my jacket pocket, fired off a couple of shots, and emailed a set to Daniel and one to myself. I’d just replaced the dress in the locker when I heard the unmistakable creak of a floorboard behind me. I whipped my head around.

  Nothing.

  I felt goose bumps start to break out on my arms and the back of my neck, so I closed the locker door and tiptoed back out into the hall. Everything was dark, silent. As still as death.

  And then, out of nowhere, Nellie came charging at me.

  She held a bronze paperweight I’d seen on Nan’s desk in one hand; there was no time for me to move out of her way, so I braced for the onslaught. I saw her mouth drop open and heard her cry out like a wounded animal, then her face contorted as she brought the paperweight down. I sidestepped just in time, watching as the force of her swing propelled her to the floor.

  “You had to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong. Who gave you permission to come here and go through my locker?”

  My breath was coming in short bursts. “Nellie. I—I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  She snorted. “Obviously. What are you snooping around here for?”

  “I think you know.” I took a quick glance over my shoulder at her locker. “You came to get rid of the evidence, I suppose?”

  She charged at me again, swinging the heavy paperweight like a baseball bat. I ducked out of the way once more, backing into the first open doorway, which proved to be Nan’s office. I ducked behind her desk, flattening myself against the floor, and cringed as the paperweight connected with the desktop and wood splintered above me.

  “How did you find out?” she spat. “I was so careful. I made sure no one saw me.”

  My hand closed over the photo in my pocket. “You can thank Wally Behrens and his camera. I remembered seeing a photo of you, and there were several red strands clinging to the edge of your sleeve. The scarf you used to strangle Daisy had frayed ends. It hit me tonight, when I saw my cat playing with some red strands.”

  “You and that damn cat.” Her voice was a low growl. “You just don’t know what it’s like. You’re in business for yourself, and before that you had a job where they respected you. You have no idea what it’s like to be stuck in a menial position, to know you can do better, and to have some upstart come in and jerk it all out from under you.”

  I was trembling so hard now it was hard to keep my teeth from chattering. “Nellie, stop acting crazy. Can’t we talk this over sensibly?”

  She towered over me, chest heaving, eyes glittering. “What’s to talk about? You’re going to have me arrested for murder.”

  I licked at my dry lips with the tip of my tongue. “Nellie—listen. I wasn’t always respected in the journalism field. It took years before most of the guys treated me as an equal. I understand how frustrated you must have been when Violet gave that job to Daisy.”

  “She didn’t have half the knowledge I did. And she wasn’t even going to stay! I heard her talking with her friend, the one dressed all in red. She said as soon as she got what she needed, the two of them could leave Cruz forever! Imagine that! She didn’t even appreciate the chance Violet gave her!”

  Nellie started to pace back and forth, turning the paperweight over in her hands. I eased myself up, mentally gauging the distance from where I now stood to the door and how fast I might get there, if only Nellie would move to the other end of the room.

  I started edging toward the doorway. “What happened the night of the gala?”

  Her upper lip curled back. “I followed her down to the basement. She had a cat down there. She was bringing it some scraps. I confronted her, told her that I’d overheard her, and she wasn’t going to get away with it. I told her young folks nowadays just have no respect for much of anything. That’s when she shoved me out of the way. Told me if I knew what was good for me, I wouldn’t say a word about anything I’d overheard. Then she laughed and said that even if I did, Violet and Nan both thought I was a bit touched, so maybe it wouldn’t matter. That’s when I really lost it. There were some old costumes down there in that trunk. I saw that red scarf and I grabbed it. She had her back to me so I just looped it around her neck, pulled hard, and held on fast.” She clucked her tongue reminiscently. “It didn’t take long for her to die, with that stupid, puzzled expression on her face. I dumped out all the clothes in the trunk and shoved them into another box, and put her inside. Then I found a red cape that looked like the one her friend was wearing and looped that around her shoulders.” Nellie sniffed. “She wasn’t here that long, but she acted like she owned the place. Sucking up to Violet and Nan, flaunting her fancy education. She talked down to me like I was some addle-brained twit who didn’t have a clue about a museum. She felt she was entitled to that job—can you imagine that? She was entitled—and I was the one who did all the heavy lifting! I was the one who was at Violet’s beck and call, who did whatever Nan wanted! Daisy deserved to die.”

  I decided to try to appeal to her sensible side, if there was one. “Nellie, it was a crime done in the heat of passion. No one who knows you would blame you.”

  Her face took on a crafty expression. “Sure they would. They all think I’m crazy, right? Well, they’ve gotta find me first.”

  With that, she heaved the paperweight right at my head and took off through the doorway. I ducked, narrowly avoiding being hit squarely in the forehead, and took off after her. I grabbed her around the waist just as she reached the top of the staircase. I pushed her flat on her stomach and used my weight to hold her down, pressing my knee into her spine between her shoulder blades and twisting one of her arms behind her back.

  “Ow,” she cried. “You’re h
urting me.” Then suddenly she went limp and began to sniffle. “I didn’t mean to kill her, honest. It, I mean she, she just got to me, that’s all. I’m not a killer.”

  I felt a wave of pity for her and let go of her arm. “It will go easier on you if you turn yourself in Nellie.”

  No answer. She just lay on the floor, her breathing ragged. I got up, and moved away. I pulled out my cell phone, but before I could hit number 1 I heard a noise behind me.

  Nellie stood right behind me, her face wet with tears. She had Nan’s letter opener in her hand. She must have slipped it off the desk in the confusion. She waved the long, sharp blade under my nose.

  “I can’t go to prison,” she rasped.

  As the sharp point rushed toward my face, I dropped my phone and reached out and grabbed her wrist with both hands. I pulled down hard, throwing us both off balance. She tumbled to the floor, me on top of her, a jumble of arms and legs as we both struggled for the letter opener.

  Nellie was mad as a hornet now, and her suppressed fury made her stronger—and more determined. She sprang to her feet first and gave me a sharp kick right in the ribs. I doubled over, but this time she was too quick for me. Her fingers closed over the letter opener and with a loud cry she started for me again. All I could do was lay there, pain shooting up my side, and cross my arms over my head in a feeble effort to protect myself.

  “Drop that!”

  Nellie paused, the blade only inches from my face. I lowered my arms enough to see Daniel standing at the top of the stairs, his gun leveled at Nellie. Behind him was Samms, gun also drawn, and behind him, a tiny black blob. Nick.

  Samms moved forward while Daniel held his gun on Nellie and he pinned her arms down and planted a pair of steel cuffs on her wrists. Then he heaved her to her feet. Daniel, meanwhile, had reached me and gathered me into his arms.

  “Hey, slugger. Where does it hurt?”

  I touched my side gingerly. “She got me good in my ribs, but I guess I’ll live.”

  Nick padded up to me and gave my cheek a thorough washing with his rough, pink tongue. I reached out and pulled him closer to me. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Thank your cat,” said Samms. He jerked his thumb at Nick. “He showed up at the station, spitting and hissing and running around in circles. We figured he was trying to tell us something, and he led us here.”

  I chuckled and whispered into Nick’s ruff, “So you understood what I told you about going for help? You rascal.”

  He licked my chin. I pulled him closer and gave him a big kiss right on the top of his head.

  Daniel helped me stand up and gave my arm a squeeze. “Well, thanks to you it looks like all the loose ends of this case are finally tied up.”

  I shook my head. “Not all of them,” I said.

  * * *

  I’d just finished sweeping up after the lunch crowd the next day when the shop bell tinkled and Alexa and Violet walked in. I almost didn’t recognize Alexa. She’d dyed her hair back to its natural dirty blond color and discarded her heavier, theatrical makeup in favor of a fresh-scrubbed look, which I decided suited her much better. I set the broom down and hurried over to them. I gave each a hug in turn and then motioned them to sit down.

  “Special Agent Corleone brought her to me this morning,” Violet said. Her face was creased in a smile, and her hand closed over mine in a hard squeeze. “We’ve spent the morning getting to know each other, and we owe it all to you, Nora. I knew you were the right woman for the job.”

  I laughed. “I really didn’t do anything outstanding, Violet. Things just worked out.”

  “Fiddlesticks. You were smart enough to take advantage of opportunities, and to put two and two together. Isn’t that what being a good detective is all about?”

  She had me there.

  She leaned back in her chair and blew out a sigh. “At least it’s all finally over. I knew Alexa was innocent but my gosh! Whoever would have thought Nellie capable of murder?”

  “She was an unlikely suspect,” I agreed. “It just shows what can happen when someone gets pushed over the edge. She truly believed she should have had the admin job, and she resented the hell out of Daisy for it. I honestly don’t believe it was premeditated. I think when Daisy dismissed her so curtly that night, something inside her just snapped.”

  “That poor woman,” Alexa murmured. “It’s sad, really. She had nothing else in her life except that job and it became a grand obsession.”

  “Well it’s all over now,” Violet said crisply. She took her hand from mine and placed it over her niece’s. “The murder’s solved, the gala was a huge success, and all’s right with the world. My niece and I need to take some time to get reacquainted. We’ve a lot to catch up on, you know. So we’re leaving for a month’s stay in London tomorrow. I’ve rented a lovely town house just off the Thames.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I grinned impishly. “And will Nan be running the museum in your absence?”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “Yes, and hyperventilating every second, no doubt.” She cast a fond look in her niece’s direction. “Alexa will be living with me when we return—and getting her degree in Art History, so she can someday take over for me at the museum. In the meantime, she’ll be taking over Daisy—er, Doris’s old job as admin.”

  I smiled at them both. “That’s great.” To Alexa I said, “You’ll do a fabulous job.”

  Violet glanced at her watch. “We really must get going. There’s a lot we have to do yet before our plane leaves tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Violet, would you mind if I spoke privately with Alexa for a minute? We have . . . a little unfinished business.”

  “No problem.” Violet rose, her hand dipping in her purse for her cell phone. “I should check in with Nan anyway. I’ll be outside in the car.” She pointed her finger straight at me and winked. “Don’t think I forgot you, young lady. I fully intend to compensate you for all this.”

  I waved my hand. “I couldn’t accept any money.”

  “Oh, it’s not money.” She smiled mysteriously. “I’ve got something special set aside for you, for bringing Alexa back into my life.”

  I waved my hand. “It’s really not necessary, Violet. I was happy to help.”

  “I know you were but that’s not the point. Good work deserves to be rewarded. I’ll see you receive it within the next few days. And you’re going to love it, trust me.”

  I saw Violet wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise, and besides, now she had my curiosity piqued. What could it possibly be? I smiled and said, “Okay, Violet. Thank you.”

  She swept out of the shop and I went over, locked the door behind her, and then turned to Alexa. “I kept my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”

  “So it is.” Alexa eased herself into a chair and rested both elbows on the table. “I believe I mentioned already I’d gotten a job as a barmaid when I first returned to Cruz, and that was how I met Nick Atkins. He fell for me pretty hard, and I cared for him, too—it was really hard not to care about him.” Her voice took on a wistful note. “He was a real charmer where women were concerned. He had a way of making you believe that you were the only one in the world who mattered to him.”

  I’d heard stories about Nick’s prowess with the fairer sex from Ollie, and nodded. “So I’ve heard. But I get the feeling he genuinely cared about you, Alexa.”

  “Nick never discussed his work when he was with me. He never liked to talk shop. Then one night he came to my apartment with a letter. The letter revealed my true identity as Alexa Martin, the girl he’d been hired to find. It also revealed, in detail, what had gone down at Meecham and my part in it.” She exhaled a long breath. “He asked me why I’d lied to him. He said if I’d been straight with him he might have been able to do something.”

  I eased myself into the chair next to her. “Really? He said that? But what could
he have possibly done?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. He stormed out, and I didn’t see him for weeks. Then one night he showed up at my apartment. He said he understood why I did what I did. I’d just put him in an awkward position, but none of that mattered anymore. He asked me if I’d do a favor for him.”

  “What sort of favor?”

  She raised her gaze to meet mine. “He wanted me to shoot him.”

  “What?”

  “He said something had happened and he had to leave town, but he was caught in the middle of a situation and faking his death was the only way he could get out of it. He told me to wait underneath the pier, and when he approached, he’d drop a handkerchief as a signal and I was to shoot him. He even messengered me the gun, loaded with blanks.”

  I felt as if someone had just jerked a rug out from under me.

  “So his shooting was a setup? Engineered by him?”

  Alexa nodded. “He said there would be a witness who could testify he’d been shot, even though no one would find a body.” Her hand shot out to cover mine. “I believe Nick was—and may still be—involved in something really, really big and very dangerous.”

  I drummed my fingers idly on the table. It seemed as if my original theory might indeed be correct: that Nick was on the run from the mob. I almost fell off the chair, however, at Alexa’s next words.

  “That night he came to me with the letter—he tried to hide it, but I caught a quick glimpse of the letterhead. It was from MI5. British Intelligence.”

  My mouth fell open. “MI5? Why would Nick be getting correspondence from them?”

  “Can’t you guess?” Alexa lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because he either works with them or for them.

  “Nick Atkins is a spy.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was the following Monday, and I’d just locked up for the day and settled down at the rear counter to go over some bills when a tap-tap-tap sounded at my back door. Nick rose from his comfy position in front of the refrigerator and ran around in a circle as I let Ollie into the shop.