by Krista Davis
“I don’t know. When I came home, they were gone, and Vegas just found their basket where Natasha was attacked.” I leaned menacingly close to Natasha. “Just tell me one thing. Are they outside in the freezing temperature?”
Natasha glanced around as if she was looking for a friendly face, someone to defend her. She must not have found one, because she whispered, “It wasn’t my fault. I dropped the basket when I fell to the ground.”
Dinner would have to wait. I bolted from the kitchen and collected flashlights. When I returned to the foyer, everyone was pulling on coats. I handed out the flashlights and remembered that Shawna was upstairs. “Someone needs to stay with Shawna and Natasha.”
Laci winced. “Dad put up a lot of money for Shawna’s bail. I promised to watch her.”
George removed his jacket. “You go ahead and search. I’ll stay here.”
No one waited for further debate on the subject. Mars bemoaned the fact that he didn’t have the special leash for Daisy that would give her more freedom to walk where she might smell a kitten.
I fetched the leash I’d given Mars for Christmas that Natasha had tried to regift to me. As we walked out of the house, I explained what had happened. Mars was appalled. “What was she thinking? Vegas, you stay close to me, okay?”
We spread out, walking up to neighbors’ homes, peering behind bushes, calling “Jasper! Alice! Here, kitty, kitty.”
I hoped their light fur would make them easier to spot in the dark, but the snow on the ground quickly extinguished that expectation. Deep in my heart, I knew they could be anywhere by now. In backyards, a block away—anywhere.
After an hour of searching, I heard Vegas shriek and ran in the direction of her cry. Under the Christmas lights of a house across the street from Natasha’s, Daisy proudly carried a kitten by the nape of the neck, like Mochie had.
Mars let her carry the kitten back to our house, where the searchers gathered. Daisy deposited the kitten, its fur matted and wet, in front of the fireplace. Mochie zoomed in to sniff carefully, then took off at top speed running through the house.
Laci picked up the kitten. “It’s Alice. Poor baby. She must be half frozen.”
I brought her a soft towel, and she sat opposite Natasha, near the fireplace, gently drying the little cat.
“Soph, could you make some glühwein?” asked Mars. “I haven’t had it in years, and it would warm us up.”
The spiced wine drink had always been one of his favorites. I poured red wine into a pot, added sugar, heady cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and slices of zesty lemon. While it warmed, I nuked some milk to make hot chocolate for Vegas and took coffee ice cream out of the freezer to make the next step of the bombe.
It didn’t take long for us to focus on Natasha—and not in a nice way.
Mars eyed Natasha. “I think you’d better explain yourself. I’d like to hear this.”
Natasha sat primly, her hands folded in her lap. “We were at a cocktail party, and a woman was going on and on about her ragdolls and how much she adores them. So I told her about the ragdoll I had as a child. I carried it everywhere—but I meant a doll. A doll! How was I supposed to know she was talking about cats?”
After a moment of shocked silence, everyone except Natasha broke into laughter.
“Tom Thorpe overheard the conversation and surprised me with the cats for Christmas. I didn’t know why until Sophie’s mother said they were called Ragdolls.”
Mars clapped a hand to his head. “He must think I’m the most rude and ungrateful person in the world for not thanking him. That was a very thoughtful and generous gift.”
I wiped my teary eyes and poured drinks for everyone. “Why did you bring them here?”
Natasha smiled her beauty-pageant smile. “They were a gift! You like cats.”
Baloney! I wasn’t buying it. “If they were a gift, why did you sneak them into my house? Why didn’t you tell me they were from you?”
She chewed the corner of her lip like a kid who’d been caught lying. “All right! If they live here, they’ll be close enough for me to pick them up and take them to my house when Tom comes over. He called this afternoon to say he would be dropping off some paperwork for Mars, so I came to get them.”
I staggered backward. Natasha had had plenty of outrageous self-serving ideas in the past, but this was beyond anything I could have conceived. The worst part was that she didn’t even seem ashamed.
“I can’t have cats,” she continued. “It’s bad enough having to lock Daisy in a room every other week. There’s still fur everywhere.”
My temper got the better of me. I could feel my face flushing hot. “That’s it. Daisy is not going to your house anymore. Sorry, Mars. It’s horrible to shut her in a room. We’re ending this right now.”
“We certainly are.” Mars’s tone dropped to his angry voice, very controlled but final. “You cannot continue to be the Queen Poobah of Old Town. I’m tired of living in a house where I have to hide all clues to my existence. The TVs are behind screens, my books may not venture out of my study, heaven forbid a magazine land on my nightstand. I’m not even allowed to use my mug that says DOG DAD. We don’t reside in a museum, Natasha. We have Vegas staying with us and we’re going to live like normal people. There will be no locking Daisy anywhere. If Vegas leaves her backpack in the foyer, you will not have a fit. If she doesn’t hang up her clothes, you will not say a word.”
I waited for Natasha’s response. Mars and I had our share of arguments when we were married, but I couldn’t remember him ever being this angry.
“Couldn’t Daisy live here?” whined Natasha. “You could still run with her. I hate having a dog bed in the bedroom. I hate the fur she sheds all over. I have doggie place mats and she still manages to make a mess when she eats.”
It wasn’t easy for me to hear Natasha complain about my beloved Daisy. I didn’t speak up, though, because I was more than willing to have Daisy live with me, instead of splitting custody with Mars. I busied myself slicing the coffee ice cream and pressing the slices on top of the chocolate ice cream already in the bowl.
Mars bent over and hugged Daisy to him. “You knew that Daisy came with me. I’m not giving up anything else, Natasha. Why is it that the things I want are always a nuisance, but you can bring all kinds of ridiculous projects into the house? Here’s a bulletin, I love Daisy—your ever-present topiaries, fussy ribbons, and crafts—not so much. I wouldn’t mind opening the windows and tossing them all.”
It was Natasha’s turn to be aghast. “You wouldn’t!”
“Don’t bet on it. You were willing to regift kittens.”
Natasha fingered the welt on her neck. “I could have died tonight.”
She had a point. I’d almost forgotten. Still she shouldn’t have treated the kittens so shabbily.
A knock at the door rescued Natasha from further blame. Mars opened it, while I put the bombe back into the freezer. Marnie rushed in, pulling off gloves. “Where’s Shawna? Isn’t she here yet?”
“Is that Mom?” Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Shawna flew into the kitchen and her mother’s arms.
“My poor darling.” Marnie held her daughter at arm’s length for a moment. “Let me look at you. Did they hurt you? Was it awful?”
“She’s fine, Mom.” Laci sounded weary, no small surprise given the events of the holiday. Laci gazed around. “Where did Vegas go?”
I peeked into the family room and found her sitting in the dark, except for the lighted Christmas village. “Why so glum?”
“I’m worried about what will happen to Alice and Jasper. They’re just like me,” said Vegas. “Nobody wants them.”
Ouch! I sat next to her and put an arm around her thin shoulders. “You mean the world to your father.”
“My mom ran off again.”
“She’s done that before?”
Vegas nodded. “They think I don’t know, but I’m not a kid—her phone has been disconnected.”
“Well, hon
ey, we don’t really know what happened. Maybe she couldn’t pay the phone bill.”
“She sent me to spend the holidays with my dad to get rid of me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. Whatever is going on with her, I bet she loves you a lot.”
“I’m in the way. That’s what’s going on with her. I’m like these kittens that no one wants. Jasper will probably die out in the cold tonight. That could be me.”
“Did you know that Natasha’s dad left her when she was younger than you?”
“Really?”
“Really. She had her mom, though, just like you have your dad. He’ll come home to be with you as soon as he can. In the meantime, you’ll like Mars. He’s a lot of fun. And Daisy will stay with you every other week.”
She leaned against me, and I gave her a reassuring hug. “There are so many people who care about you. Don’t you ever think no one wants you!”
“What about Jasper?”
From the doorway, Laci said, “Instead of a big dinner, why don’t we make sandwiches. That way, we can take turns going out to look for Jasper. C’mon.” In the kitchen, she handed Alice to Vegas.
Alice already looked like a different cat. Her fur had dried and fluffed up, and she watched us with curious bright blue eyes. George, Mars, and Vegas took the first shift searching for Jasper, while Laci and I prepared our sandwich extravaganza.
When we set the potential sandwich ingredients on the island counter—turkey, ham, Brie, sharp white cheddar, mayonnaise, butter, mustard, horseradish, cranberries, lettuce, whole wheat bread, and kaiser rolls—I began to think a formal dinner might have been easier. As it turned out, though, everyone was psyched to make a sandwich with their favorites. The panini maker went into overtime business, but I had little to do other than set out trays of my homemade Christmas cookies. While Laci served the glühwein, I spent a few minutes making the raspberry center of the bombe. Golden egg yolks went into the bowl of my KitchenAid mixer and spun until they were thick and lemon in color. Meanwhile frozen raspberries thawed in a pot on the stove with sugar melting into them. They bubbled and I checked the temperature several times to be sure they were hot enough to cook any salmonella in the egg yolks. Moving fast, I added the raspberries to the spinning egg yolks. When they were fully mixed, I left them to cool and joined the sandwich crowd around the kitchen table. I felt a little bit guilty that Jasper and his whereabouts dominated the conversation when someone had made an attempt on Natasha’s life. She seemed perplexed that she wasn’t the center of attention.
Before I left to search for Jasper again, I stirred Chambord into the cool raspberry mixture, blended it with rich whipped cream, and poured it into the empty center of the bombe. When it was in the freezer, we donned our coats, leaving George to watch Shawna, Marnie, and Natasha, while we ventured outside in search of Jasper.
I planned to look in Natasha’s backyard, but had a hunch Kenner wouldn’t allow it. To bypass a confrontation, I intended to walk around to the back of the house and enter through the alley.
When I walked past the front of Natasha’s house, I saw Kenner wielding a weapon that I recognized.
TWENTY-EIGHT
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
Every year I think I’m organized because I toss wrapping paper, gift bags, and ribbons into big bags. Of course, I paw through them during the year to steal bows, tissue paper, and solid color gift bags, then when Christmas rolls around again, it’s a mess. There has to be a better way.
—Fit to be Tied in Ribbon, Virginia
Dear Fit to be Tied,
Every home should have a wrapping center. Rolls stay put in long shallow drawers, and ribbons look adorable on mounted dowel rods. Scissors, tape, and craft items should all be stashed in readily accessible compartmented drawers. A long counter or table is a must. You’ll enjoy wrapping so much more when you organize!
—Natasha
I dashed toward Kenner to see the weapon up close.
He grinned at me, as though he thought I was eager to see him. Trying not to meet his gaze, I focused on the crutch he held. “Is this from the crime scene?”
“Do you recognize it?” he asked. “It’s sort of peculiar.”
It would seem that way out of context but I’d seen it in a Christmas display. “It’s Tiny Tim’s crutch. That’s why there’s a metal stake on the end—to secure it in the ground. I bet Mrs. Santa hit Natasha over the head with it.”
Kenner stroked his mouth and chin. “Tiny Tim, huh?” He held it vertically. “Life-size and pretty realistic. The only place I’ve seen Tiny Tim this season is on Ginger Chadwick’s lawn.”
I was glad he figured it out, and that I wouldn’t have to rat on her. “She must have dropped it when Daisy chased her.”
“Better watch that dog. She has vicious tendencies.”
“She does not! She’s mostly hound, and she’s as sweet a dog as you’ll find anywhere. She loves everyone.”
“Apparently not me or Ginger Chadwick.”
So he thought Ginger had attacked Natasha! If they could tie her to the poison in the music box, she would be arrested and we would all breathe easier. Kenner turned to speak to another cop, and I took that opportunity to slip around the corner and down to the alley that ran behind Natasha’s house.
I spent the next half hour creeping through the withered remnants of Natasha’s garden. Bare rosebushes and twisting vines waited for spring, but no kitten hid among them. Cold air pierced my trousers, and my thighs felt leaden. Poor little Jasper. I left and walked slowly through the alley to the other end of the block, flashing my light in all possible crevices. I hoped Daisy would find him, because I was having no luck at all.
I rounded the corner and walked home. Orbs of flashlight beams skittered along my block like fireflies in the summer. I met up with Vegas, Daisy, and Mars.
“If you were Jasper, where would you go?” asked Vegas.
Good question. “I think I’d huddle under a porch, out of the wind.”
“That’s what Mars said.”
“Daisy didn’t smell him anywhere?” I asked.
Mars handed me the leash. “I hate to give up on the little fellow, but I think I’d better get Vegas and Natasha home. It’s getting late.”
Whoa! How paternal. I wasn’t used to Mars thinking along those lines. He sounded like my dad.
“But you’ll keep looking, won’t you?” begged Vegas.
I promised I would. Daisy and I watched them walk to my front door to collect Natasha.
An hour later, my fingers grew stiff in spite of my gloves, and even Daisy had lost the spring in her step. I returned to my house and the warmth of my kitchen to thaw.
George, Marnie, and Shawna had very kindly cleaned up the kitchen. Laci stood in front of the fire, holding her hands out to warm them.
“Shawna has been telling us about her adventures in incarceration,” said George, eliciting a dirty glare from Laci.
I dropped my jacket and gloves on a chair and joined Laci in front of the fire. There was something that had been bugging me. I turned my back to the fire and faced Shawna. “Didn’t you tell the police that you regifted the music box?”
Shawna gulped. “I did, but not at first, and by the time I did, they didn’t believe me. See, when I first decided to give the box to Bonnie, I couldn’t admit to Beau that I regifted it. What would he have thought? He loved his mother so much, and I wanted to give her something special.” She lowered her gaze in shame. “I told him I found it at an antiques store just off of King Street.”
Marnie rubbed her daughter’s arm. “You know better than to regift, but under the circumstances, I think anyone would have done the same. Bonnie was hard to please, wasn’t she?”
Shawna raised her voice in her own defense. “I’d bought her something else—fuzzy sock-like booties—and put them in a Christmas bag! But Natasha has divine taste, and the music box and wrapping were so beautiful. Bonnie loves ... loved antiques,
and I don’t know a thing about them, but I know when something is pretty and special. So when the police asked me where I got it, I stuck with that story. I didn’t want Beau to know the truth, and I thought it would be better to be consistent. Later, when I told the cops that Natasha had given me the box, Beau said I was lying. I guess it wasn’t until my lawyer said other people were confirming Natasha’s involvement that they checked it out.”
I left the warmth of the fire to take the last container of ice cream from the freezer to thaw enough to slice it.
“Natasha is such a celebrity, too,” said Marnie. “Saying she gave you an expensive gift was like saying a movie star gave it to you. No wonder they didn’t believe you.”
That figured, but if the gas was already present, why didn’t it kill Shawna? “Didn’t you play the music?”
“I turned the little handle, but it seemed sort of stuck, and I didn’t want to mess it up since it looked like an antique. Besides, I didn’t have it very long. I barely had time to rewrap it, though I thought I did a good job of using Natasha’s fancy gift wrap.”
It all sounded plausible to me. I sliced the ice cream and pressed it across the top of the bombe, which would actually be the bottom of the bombe when I turned it out onto a serving dish.
Shawna had been desperate for Bonnie’s approval and a marriage proposal from Beau. Even if she had meant to kill Bonnie, which I doubted, she had been with George and Laci when Natasha was attacked, so it seemed more likely that Ginger might have been the clever person who installed the poison in the music box. I replaced the top of the bowl and slid it into the freezer to firm up for serving the next day.
Shawna and Marnie went up to bed, leaving Laci, George, and me to worry about little Jasper.
“I thought you were going home,” I said to George.
