Cat Got Your Cash

by Julie Chase

  I sped down the hall and into the room where the box of pillows had been. The blinds were shut, making it difficult to see without turning on a light, and I didn’t want to leave fingerprints on the switch. Annie’s rich color scheme added to my troubles. Shades of hunter and navy paired with dark-stained woodwork until I thought my eyes would bleed from effort.

  I shuffled across the floor, careful not to step or trip on anything, and peered into the box in the corner. Pashminas. What? I crouched to inspect the box. No X.

  Where were the pillows?

  I scooted back to the light switch and flipped it with my elbow. None of the boxes stacked near her desk had Xs. Someone had taken the pillows, but who? Someone with access to Annie’s home. Someone who’d promised Annie to mail them on Thursday? Like Josie Fresca, Annie’s personal assistant.

  I knocked the light switch to off with my arm and tore through the office door, smacking headlong into a wall of muscle, pheromones, and frustration.

  Jack gripped my arms until I stopped swaying. “What were you doing in there?”

  “Same thing you were. I wanted another look at the boxes from Thursday night.”

  “They’re gone.”

  “I know.”

  He released his grip on me slowly. “The back door was unlocked, and the rear gate was open. Whoever was here is long gone, probably with those boxes.”

  I folded my arms, careful to place my hands over the spots where his had been. “You know who probably has a key to this house? Josie.”

  He moved down the steps. “Yes, and I’ve requested a cruiser to pick her up.”

  Jack locked Annie’s doors, and we parted ways on the sidewalk where I’d parked behind his truck.

  He opened his driver’s side door but paused before climbing in. “I’m going to the station. Can you stay out of trouble if I leave you on your own for a few hours?”

  I had pupcakes to deliver and just about enough of his sass. I climbed inside my car and drove away.

  The lot at Doggy Divas was full. An enormous banner rippled in the breeze. Two cartoon pilgrims bookended the words: Give Thanks for your Pets by Pampering their Paws.

  I saddled myself with logoed Furry Godmother bags and headed for the door. I must’ve missed lunch, because I could smell the peanut butter on the pupcakes, and my mouth watered. The waiting room was wall-to-wall pets and their humans.

  No one was behind the welcome desk.

  A woman in a navy pantsuit rushed to my side and relieved me of my bags. “You’re Lacy Crocker from Furry Godmother?”

  “Yes.” I stretched and curled my fingers to recirculate blood flow.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” She set the bags on the welcome desk and unloaded the boxes from inside.

  I said a silent prayer the pupcakes weren’t a mess when she opened the lids. Traditionally, my treats tolerated heat and humidity well, but I’d never intentionally kept them in the car so long. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m happy to wait while you take a look at the product.”

  “No need,” she said.

  I offered a tight smile. “I’d feel better if I knew you were satisfied with the product before I left. I’m happy to replace any units that didn’t arrive as expected.”

  “I’m sure they’re delicious.”

  Delicious? Was she speaking from a canine perspective, or did she intend to try one?

  “How are you doing?” she asked. “I’ve got to be honest. I’m surprised to see you out today after what you’ve been through this week.”

  A man playing with his phone looked up.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, realizing my error. “You don’t work here, do you?”

  She blushed. “No. I guess not, though I am technically working. I’m from Pamper Your Paws magazine.”

  “Yeesh.” I rang the little silver bell on the welcome desk. “Is every pet magazine in America here this week?” I muttered.

  “You can hardly blame us,” she said. “Annie Lane’s death has been a huge loss to the animal advocacy community.”

  I dinged the bell again.

  “Any idea if the rumors were true?”

  I conjured a flimsy thread of calm. Every onlooker in the waiting room was a potential customer of mine. “Annie Lane didn’t mistreat her animals. Her kittens were examined last night by a respected local veterinarian”—known to me as Dad—“and determined to be healthy and in good spirits. No signs of previous or current abuse. The lies posted online about her were exactly that. Lies. Furthermore, Annie’s faux-fur line was an attempt to show that there are humane and reasonable ways to enjoy the look of fur in fashion. Twisting and perverting her intent in an effort to create blog traffic or sell magazines is low and shameful. Annie Lane was a local hero, and I’m running short on patience this week for people who say otherwise.”

  “Amen!” a woman called from her seat in the waiting room. “Hear, hear!” voices echoed.

  The reporter opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water.

  I dinged the bell once more. This time a young lady appeared. “Sorry for your wait. How can I help you?”

  I handed off the pupcakes after inspecting them myself. Some of the frosting swirls had lost their shape and become a tad gooey-looking, but a little light refrigeration would remedy that in an hour. I left a stack of business cards on the counter and went back to work.

  * * *

  At six, I closed up shop, grabbed a large pineapple-coconut smoothie from Frozen Banana, and headed to Scarlet’s house. Carter and his dad were taking her three older children to a ball game. I was recruited to hold Poppet while Scarlet had an hour-long, steaming-hot shower with no one crying outside the bathroom door.

  I pulled smoothly onto her wide cement drive and sighed in relief. Nothing bad ever happened at Scarlet’s house. She welcomed me inside with a look of excitement and gratitude. “Thank you so much for coming. I won’t really take an hour,” she said.

  I scooped a sleeping Poppet into my arms and smiled. “Take as long as you want.”

  “Bless you.”

  I eased into Scarlet’s glider and put my feet up. Poppet was snuggled in a blanket and making nursing movements with her mouth. She and I were bound to be fast friends one day. I, too, dreamt of food.

  I lifted my sweating smoothie and took a long drag. Frozen Banana made the best smoothies on the planet, and they never judged when you asked for a shot of rum.

  Poppet didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t rock and suck a straw at the same time. She puckered her brow into a frown, and her lips quivered. I kissed the wrinkles on her forehead until they smoothed. “Shhhhh. You’re okay,” I whispered. She went back to her imaginary meal.

  I lifted her tiny fingers in mine and stroked her impossibly soft skin. “It’s hard to believe you’re real.” Imogene believed in magic she couldn’t see, but I’d grown up watching life occur. I’d seen Mom grow fifty tomatoes from one small seed and watched Dad deliver litters of pups and kittens. I’d seen chicks hatch from eggs with no help at all. Now my best friend had four babies, all from her womb and yet each totally different from the next. Born completely helpless but full of desires and opinions. That was my kind of magic. The remarkable, unbelievable things I could see.

  Scarlet probably thought she was taking advantage by leaving me unattended after inviting me over, but she had it backward. Rocking Poppet was exactly what I needed after the last few days I’d had. Thick emotion bubbled in my chest. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sweet scents of baby powder on Poppet’s skin and the fabric softener in her blanket. Would the tides turn one day? Would Scarlet rock my baby while I escaped to a hot shower? The idea seemed so peculiar that I didn’t know how to proceed. Who could I trust enough to start a family? Jack’s face came to mind, and sure, he’d probably take a bullet to save me or a complete stranger, but heroic cop moments were here and gone. Over in a heartbeat. Heroic love kept going. Through prolonged illnesses, un
fathomable losses, despair, failure, and worse. Heroic love kept its boots on the ground even when its partner wanted to quit and run. The cynic in me insisted not many were capable of love like that.

  Scarlet reappeared with wet hair and a fresh gleam in her eyes. “Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

  I filled her in, quietly, while she scrubbed a thick white towel over her head.

  “Where do you think the box with the pillows went?”

  I smiled at her fuzzy pink slippers and cozy cotton pajamas. Scarlet wasn’t the type to be seen without makeup or with wet hair this side of Rio. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure who had keys to the house. I assume Josie the assistant did, but beyond that, I couldn’t even guess. A cook? A maid? I don’t know. Jack’s talking to Josie, so maybe he’ll get better information this time around. She was pretty useless the last time they spoke.”

  “I don’t understand what was so important about the pillows.” She scrunched her hair in a towel. “Maybe something was buried under them.”

  “Maybe.” How far had Jack dug when he looked through them Thursday night?

  “Or!” Scarlet snapped her fingers, and Poppet winced. “Or,” she lowered her voice, “they were the last thing Annie was working on, so they’re worth a ton of money now? Collector’s items?”

  “Maybe.” Honestly, nothing about stealing a big box of small pillows made sense to me. Literally everything in Annie’s house was worth more than those pillows. Scarlet was right about one thing. The pillows made a good hiding spot.

  “I’m going upstairs to blow-dry my hair. If the doorbell rings, answer it. I ordered dinner. There was no way I was cooking.”

  “Deal.”

  Poppet fussed again, trying and failing to leave the Land of Nod.

  I rearranged her in my arms and stood, hyperaware of a raging blow-dryer somewhere on the second floor. I swayed gently as I moved through the rooms. Eventually, the blow-dryer quieted, and Poppet stilled.

  The doorbell rang.

  Scarlet pounded down the steps. “Food!”

  I loved this family.

  She’d swapped her pajamas for navy leggings and a green V-neck tunic. Her wild red hair was doubly thick and two inches longer after a year of prenatal vitamins. The happy glow in her cheeks had been there since we met. She wrenched the giant wooden door open. “Come in!”

  The man who stepped inside nearly buckled my knees. I made a strange, incoherent sound.

  “Nice to see you too,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

  Before me, Chase Hawthorne wore a fitted Armani suit over six-plus feet of sexy. He towered over Scarlet as he planted a kiss on her head. “Good evening, gorgeous wife of my brother.” He handed her a large bag from Acme Oyster Company and a bottle of red wine. “Lacy.” He put the full force of his eyes to work on me.

  Scarlet nearly skipped into the kitchen with her bounty.

  Chase moved in on me until our toes touched. “There you are, my beautiful princess.” He lifted his niece from my arms and cradled her to his face.

  I scanned the cheerful room for a place to collapse. “I thought you went back to volleyballing?”

  “I did. I finished the season, then I came home.” He jiggled Poppet and did a little bounce step. She was so tiny in his arms, barely longer than the space between his wrist and elbow.

  “Why?” The word took shape, breathlessly, on my tongue. I was a moron.

  Chase smiled, a grand television-worthy smile. “Inspiration.”

  “Come on,” Scarlet called from the kitchen, where she’d spread open food containers on her table and uncorked the wine. She removed Poppet from his arms. “Eat. Drink. Thank you so much. Both of you.”

  Chase poured a glass of wine and handed it to me.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I already had rum in my smoothie.”

  He moved the glass farther in my direction. “If you need a ride home later, I’ll gladly drive you.”

  I took the glass. “So how long are you staying? When do they need you back on the court?”

  “Technically I retired.” He poured a glass of wine for himself. “Though I’ll still spend plenty of time in court.”

  “Why?” The notion dumbfounded me. “Why stop doing something you love?” Why abandon a dream he’d crossed his family to go after? “Were you injured?”

  “No.” He loaded a plate with fries and po’ boy halves. Grilled onions and mushrooms toppled onto the table. “Oops.” He pinched them between his thumb and first finger, then shoved them in his mouth.

  I looked away, plucking the material of my knit dress off my collarbone. Maybe it was the rum, but the room seemed warmer than necessary.

  “Coming home this summer was the best thing I could’ve done,” he said. “I left feeling inspired.”

  I angled toward him, careful to leave a little distance. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I had fun writing that bogus letter to your ex. It stayed on my mind. I wanted to do that again. Then I remembered I have a law degree. My family owns a law firm. They wanted me here. I wanted to be here.” He shifted out of his suit jacket and dropped it over the back of his chair. “So here I am.”

  “There you are.”

  He winked and tossed a shrimp into his mouth. “I saw you making a place for yourself in the world we both escaped yet somehow both belong to, and it inspired me. You inspired me. I’m hoping you’ll let me lean on you for moral support, and if I screw up a little at first, I can call you for advice on setting my path straight again. What do you think?”

  Scarlet hid her smile behind Poppet’s sleeping face.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he parroted. “So that’s a yes? I can call you?”

  I looked at Scarlet.

  Chase reached his long arm out and grabbed my fingertips. He pulled me closer to the table. “What can I get you?” He dusted his palms. “I bought one of everything. What’ll it be?”

  I stared into his happy green eyes. “You’re home for good?”

  “Yeah. Working at the family firm. The change is still new, but I’m adjusting.”

  “Uh-huh.” Chase was back? I’d only allowed myself a few indulgent fantasies because I was unlikely to see him again. Now here he was, plying me with wine and greasy foods.

  He sucked sauce off the tip of his thumb. “They’ve kept me pretty swamped at the office, but I swung by your store today. I missed you. Imogene said you were having a tough week, so I asked Scarlet to invite you here for dinner, then I gave Dad and Carter tickets to take the kids to the game and voilà.”

  I stole a loose shrimp off his plate, unable to hide my smile. “So this was a conspiracy? That’s a lot of work to surprise me with dinner.”

  He shrugged. “I also got to make my dad happy and kiss my niece, so I’m winning all around. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re greatly appreciated.” I took a seat beside Chase, instantly at ease. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I looked up to thank Scarlet, but she was gone, so I helped myself to half a po’ boy and bit into the French bread with enthusiasm. I savored the lettuce and tabasco-infused mayo as breaded shrimp and oysters tried to roll free. Too bad for them, this wasn’t my first po’ boy. I popped the runaways into my mouth with a moan.

  Chase watched with a grin, presumably amused by my mess.

  I washed the bite of heaven down with another sip of wine. A goofy smile parted my lips. I blamed the alcohol. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Me too.”

  I went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. No more wine for me. “And you’re here to stay?” I repeated.

  He nodded slowly. “Everything I want is right here. I’d be crazy to go anywhere else.”

  “Aww,” Scarlet cooed from her hiding spot.

  And it was my turn to blush.

  Chapter Eleven

  Furry Godmother’s hard truth: If the award fits, it’s probab
ly the murder weapon.

  Two hours later, I was stuffed with good food and compliments, courtesy of Chase Hawthorne. Poppet had woken, nursed, and conked out in Chase’s arms while Scarlet and I gossiped on the couch. Her eyes fluttered a few times, and her head bobbed twice before she fell asleep midsentence. Exhausted as she was, a small smile curved her lips. I covered her with a blanket and put the game on television for Chase. “Thank you for dinner,” I whispered to him as I kissed Poppet good-bye.

  “See you soon?” he asked.

  I nodded and slipped through the front door.

  The night was brisk and blustery, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I idled at a stop sign and made an impromptu decision. Scarlet lived in my parents’ neighborhood. The clock on my dashboard indicated it wasn’t quite ten. It would be rude of me to be so close to my parents and not say hello. Plus I should check on Cotton and Cashmere. Give Dad another round of thanks for taking the kittens in, especially knowing how Mom felt about the proposition. As a bonus, I’d score points with her for coming over without any prodding.

  I made a hasty right and headed for the Crocker slice of paradise. I bounced my little car down the rear drive, enjoying a familiar jostle over earth long ago displaced by roots of historic oak trees.

  Every light in the house was on, but thankfully a party wasn’t in motion. I knocked on the back door and took in the beautiful starry night. It felt like just yesterday I’d made daisy chains on that porch and covered books in lollipop-stained fingerprints. Standing there made it hard to believe the world was a scary place, and for a moment, I let myself pretend.

  The little porch light flamed into being. Dad opened the door with a broad smile. “Lacy!” He kissed my head and pulled me inside. “You look beautiful. Come in. Your mother will be so pleased to see you.”

  Cotton and Cashmere trotted into view wearing two of Voodoo’s old collars. The rhinestones glistened, and the little bells jingled. They sang their happy song as loudly as ever.