Fatal Fête in Cherry Hills

by Paige Sleuth

  Fatal Fête in Cherry Hills

  A Cozy Cat Caper Mystery

  Book 18

  Paige Sleuth

  Copyright © 2017 Marla Bradeen (writing as Paige Sleuth)

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Marla Bradeen.

  This book or portions of it (excluding brief quotations) may not be reproduced without prior written permission from the publisher/author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), actual businesses, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If this ebook copy was not purchased by or for you, please purchase your own copy before reading. Thank you for respecting this author’s work.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  ARSON IN CHERRY HILLS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Kat!” Imogene Little screeched as she flung her front door wide open. “You made it!”

  Katherine Harper tucked her brown hair behind her ears and smiled at her friend. “Sorry I’m late. It’s Matty’s fault. The ornery feline snuck outside as I was leaving, and she absolutely refused to get back in the apartment.”

  “Can you blame her?” Imogene took a step outside and drew in a long, slow breath, the light of the sun reflecting off of her auburn ponytail. Her hair looked glossier than usual, and she’d traded in her typical jeans and a T-shirt for a pair of black dress slacks and a frilly peach blouse. “It’s glorious out here.”

  Kat had to agree. It was the last Saturday of March, and the arrival of spring had brought a welcome warm front to Central Washington. It would turn chilly as soon as the sun set, but right now the temperature was perfect.

  Imogene stood on her tiptoes to peer over Kat’s shoulder. “Where’s Andrew?”

  “Looking for parking. There’s not an empty spot to be found on your block.”

  “I can’t remember a time when I had so many people here. Everybody loves Kenny.”

  Kat didn’t miss how Imogene’s face glowed as she said the words, prompting her to wonder how much effort her friend had put into this event. She was fairly certain Imogene wouldn’t have bothered with such an elaborate birthday bash if she didn’t have a romantic interest in the Cherry Hills police chief. But she didn’t want to embarrass her friend by asking.

  “How’s Clover handling the crowd?” Kat asked. The sheer number of people present today had to be overwhelming for a cat, even one as social as Clover.

  “I shut him in my office,” Imogene replied, pointing toward the converted den off the dining room. “With people coming in and out, I didn’t want to risk him slipping outside unnoticed.”

  “Smart move.”

  Imogene grinned. “In all honesty, I believe he was relieved to get away from Frieda. Apparently she has something of an obsession with cats. Before I thought to isolate him, she kept picking him up and carrying him around. It’s a wonder he didn’t scratch her.”

  “Who’s Frieda?”

  “One of Kenny’s sisters. She’s smitten with Clover. And naturally he wants nothing to do with anybody that interested in him. He barely deigned to let her feed him one of Sam Easton’s cream-less tarts.”

  “Maybe he was holding out for something with real cream in it,” Kat suggested.

  “Then he has a long wait ahead of him.” Imogene motioned Kat inside. “Come and wish Kenny a happy birthday. Andrew can find his own way in when he gets here. Besides, he already got a jump-start on celebrating Kenny’s big day. Kenny’s officers threw him their own celebration down at the station yesterday.”

  “I know,” Kat said, raising her voice to be heard above the crowd as they moved into the living room. “Andrew saved me a piece of the cake they bought. It was to die for.”

  “Indeed, it certainly did look divine. Kenny smuggled me a slice too, but unfortunately it wasn’t vegan.” Imogene stopped near one side of the room. “I still don’t think he understands the concept, as many times as I’ve explained it to him. No meat, no milk, no eggs. How hard is that to comprehend?”

  Before Kat could reply, Chief Kenny himself headed toward them. A perplexed furrow marred the burly police chief’s brow as he stared at something in his massive hand.

  “Imogene, what in the devil is this?” He thrust his arm toward her. “Feels like a sponge—and a dried-up one at that.”

  “That would be a chickpea pinwheel,” Imogene told him.

  “Chickpea? Is that anything like a game hen?”

  Imogene rolled her eyes. “A chickpea is a garbanzo bean, Kenny.”

  “Is it edible?”

  “Of course.”

  He pinched the pinwheel between his fingers. “Why is it green?”

  “Because there’s spinach in the tortilla holding everything together.”

  Chief Kenny scrunched up his nose.

  “Try it,” Imogene instructed. “You might like it.”

  He didn’t oblige, choosing instead to pinch the pinwheel between two stubby fingers as though it might bite him. “Fat chance of that. Why you couldn’t serve good ol’-fashioned pigs in blankets is beyond me.”

  “Because I don’t support the suffering of animals.”

  “But it’s my birthday.”

  “Yes, and it’s my party. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall you tossing me out of your office when I asked whether you wanted to be involved with the planning.”

  “I didn’t toss you out.”

  “I believe your exact words were, ‘Get out of my office. I have a budget to balance.’”

  Chief Kenny scowled. “Well, I didn’t reckon you planned to starve us all.”

  “Starve?” Imogene scoffed. “Every surface in the kitchen is covered with food, thanks to Sam Easton and his catering team. If you don’t want the chickpea pinwheel, go get some fried risotto balls.”

  “What the heck is a risotto?”

  “Rice.”

  Chief Kenny stuck one finger in his mouth in a mock gag.

  Imogene flapped her hand. “Fine. Don’t eat it if you feel that way. And don’t come crying to me next year when you turn fifty-six and nobody is around to celebrate with you.”

  Kat grinned as the two continued bickering like an old married couple. If they weren’t romantically involved yet, she figured it was just a matter of time.

  After a minute, the argument started to peter out. And from the smirk on Imogene’s face, it was clear she had come out ahead.

  “Shoulda known better when you didn’t serve a turkey at Thanksgiving,” he muttered, stalking off in a sulk.

  Imogene made a face at his retreating back before spinning toward Kat. “I should have saved my efforts for somebody more grateful. When is your birthday again?”

  “Not till June. And there’s no need to throw me a party. I’m not really into birthdays.”

  “Nonsense! Everybody is into birthdays.”

  “I’m thirty-two, past the age when they hold any promise.”

  “Why, you sound just like an old maid!” Imogene tsked. “That dour attitude is more appropriate for someone my age.”

  “I hope I’m half as youthful as you are when I’m your age.” Although Imogene was in her fif
ties, most days she had more energy than Kat.

  A fluffy white ball streaked past them then, knocking Kat against the wall. Next to her, someone screamed and a man spilled his drink. But the ball didn’t slow down, careening around the room like a miniature rocket.

  “Clover!” Imogene yelled, sprinting after the cat.

  Clover didn’t pay her any heed. He veered into the dining area, catching a woman around Kat’s age off guard when he darted between her ankles. She yelped and dropped the tray in her hands. It hit the floor with a clatter, sending dozens of bite-sized finger foods rolling in all different directions.

  “Oh!” The woman lifted both hands to her mouth.

  Clover stopped to see what the commotion was about. Upon spotting the runaway appetizers, he made a quick U-turn and chased after the closest one, batting it into a corner like a soccer player making a goal.

  Imogene grabbed the woman’s elbow. “Deirdre, are you okay?”

  Deirdre peered at her with wide brown eyes. She looked ready to burst into tears. “I dropped the risotto balls. I’m so sorry.”

  Kat saw now that she wore a white top coupled with black slacks, a classic catering uniform. An apron with the top folded down was cinched at her waist, and her brown hair was pulled back in a bun. Several tendrils hung around the sides of her face.

  Imogene patted Deirdre’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. Sam can whip up more of those in no time.”

  Deirdre bit her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be mad?”

  “Of course not.”

  Deirdre didn’t look convinced. She pulled at a loose piece of hair, a tear slipping down her cheek.

  “I’ll explain how the accident couldn’t be helped, that my terror of a cat is to blame,” Imogene said. A perturbed expression flashed across her face. “How did he escape my office, anyway?”

  Another woman jogged into the room, wild brown curls and a loose-fitting floral skirt flouncing around her. “Was that Clover I saw?”

  “Frieda!” Imogene folded her arms across her chest. “Did you let Clover out of my office?”

  Frieda blinked. “I did not.”

  Imogene eyed her suspiciously as she scooped up Clover. The feline struggled for a bit, but when it became clear his human wasn’t about to release him he draped his head over her arm and stared longingly at the toppled risotto balls.

  Frieda spread her palms. “It wasn’t me, I swear.” She reached a tentative hand toward Clover. “But since he’s out, you won’t mind if I pet him, will you?”

  Frieda didn’t wait for a response before running her hand down Clover’s back. The feline whipped his head around, his ears wilting against his head and a meow of protest escaping past his lips when he saw who it was.

  “Ohhh, you’re so cute I could just eat you up,” Frieda cooed, practically rubbing noses with the cat.

  Clover’s blue eyes widened in alarm. He peered at Imogene and let out a desperate cry for help.

  Imogene took a tiny step backward. “I should put him back in the office before he causes any more damage.”

  Frieda gave Clover’s ears a scritch. “Ohhh, you wouldn’t do that, would you now, you sweet little angel you?”

  A giggle bubbled up Kat’s throat. She did her best to keep it from escaping, but she wasn’t entirely successful. The demoralized expression on Clover’s face was just too much.

  Imogene smirked at Kat. “Kat, this is Frieda Tabernathy, Kenny’s sister. She traveled all the way from Bellingham to celebrate Kenny’s special day.”

  “I’m one of Kenny’s sisters,” Frieda corrected, straightening away from Clover and extending a hand toward Kat. Her grip was firm, and Kat could see the muscles in her forearm ripple as they shook hands. “Marigold’s around here somewhere too. The others couldn’t make it.”

  “How many sisters does Chief Kenny have?” Kat asked.

  “Four,” Frieda replied. “Or four too many, if you ask him.”

  Imogene chuckled. “Such a grouch.”

  “Marigold and I are the youngest. I’m five years younger than Ken, and Mari was born only fourteen months after me.” Frieda scanned the living area. “Let me find Mari and you can meet her.”

  “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Imogene adjusted Clover in her arms. “First I have to get this little hellion squared away.”

  As though reminded of Clover’s presence, Frieda fell right back into her baby-talking persona. “Auntie Frieda will miss you,” she crooned, planting a kiss atop Clover’s head.

  Clover hissed at her through bared teeth. Somehow, Kat didn’t think the feline would miss Auntie Frieda nearly as much.

  “Oh, there’s Marigold,” Frieda announced. “Follow me, Kat.”

  But they only made it partway through the crowd before a blood-chilling scream echoed through the house. The individual conversations that had been buzzing all around them came to a grinding halt, leaving behind a quiet that felt more deafening than any sound.

  Kat froze in her tracks. Turning around, she spotted Imogene standing near the open door of her home office. Clover was nowhere in sight, having apparently escaped his human’s grasp.

  But the wily cat’s disappearance didn’t seem to be the cause of Imogene’s alarm. Kat watched as Imogene reached for the doorframe, her knees wobbling as if they were on the verge of buckling.

  Springing into action, Kat raced over to her friend, her heart pounding harder with every hurried step. It didn’t take her long to identify the reason for Imogene’s reaction.

  In the middle of Imogene’s home office, a man lay on the carpet, his limbs akimbo and a blotch of red pooling around his head. The surprised look preserved in his eyes for all of eternity made it infinitely clear they were too late to save him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kat stepped forward to get a better look at the man inside Imogene’s office, but Chief Kenny thwarted her progress when he scooted in front of her and slammed the door shut, nearly giving her a broken nose in the process. He spread his arms wide, eyeing the crowd that had started to press closer.

  “Back up, everybody,” he boomed in that commanding voice of his. “I need all you folks to clear the area.”

  Kat and Imogene glanced at each other before dutifully retreating a respectable distance away. A soft murmur traveled through the room as each of the guests did the same, everyone breaking off into small groups to trade information and speculation.

  “Did you see who was in there?” Kat whispered to Imogene.

  “I did,” Imogene replied. Thankfully, although her voice still quavered, she no longer seemed to be in danger of collapsing. “It’s Landon Tabernathy.”

  “Tabernathy?” Kat echoed. “Any relation to Chief Kenny’s sister?”

  “He’s Frieda’s husband.” Imogene shuddered. “Was her husband, I suppose I should say.”

  As though they’d invoked her presence, Frieda Tabernathy herself dashed into view. Her eyes ricocheted from left to right until they landed on Chief Kenny. She rushed over to him, her brown curls resembling an electric force field against the backdrop of her crazed expression.

  “Ken, is it true?” she screeched, grabbing his forearm. “Is Landon dead?”

  A pained look spread across Chief Kenny’s face. “Looks that way, babe. I’m sorry.”

  Frieda dropped to her knees. The anguished wail that ripped from her throat plunged the rest of the room into silence as everyone abandoned their whispering to gawk at Landon’s recent widow.

  Chief Kenny crouched down and patted Frieda’s shoulder with one hand. The gesture looked awkward, as though brother and sister weren’t used to physical displays of affection. But Frieda was too caught up in her own grief to even acknowledge the police chief’s attempt to calm her.

  Chief Kenny locked gazes with Imogene, flashing her a pleading look not dissimilar to the one Clover had sported while suffering through the indignity of Frieda’s baby talk. Without hesitation, Imogene swooped down to join the huddle, wrapping one arm
around Frieda’s shoulders as she murmured softly in her ear.

  A woman with a sleek brown bob and a saunter that was all hips sidled up to Kat. “What’s all the fuss about?”

  Kat lifted her chin toward the office door. “A man is dead in there.”

  “Dead?” The woman’s face went pale. She eyed the chickpea pinwheel in her hand as if it might be laced with poison. “From what?”

  “I’m not sure.” Kat didn’t want to mention the pool of blood.

  The woman frowned at Frieda. “I take it she found him?”

  Frieda was now a sobbing mess despite Imogene’s attempts to soothe her. Her face was buried in her hands, but the tears leaked around them nonetheless. Bearing witness to her pain made Kat’s chest hurt.

  “The man who died was her husband,” Kat said.

  The woman stumbled backward, the pinwheel slipping through her fingers and landing soundlessly on the carpet. “Landon?” she squeaked. “Landon’s dead?”

  “Yes.” Kat looked at her with a bit more interest. “Did you know him?”

  The woman bobbed her head in slow motion, seeming incapable of speech.

  “Marigold!” Imogene waved the woman over. “Come help comfort your sister.”

  Kat regarded the brunette. “You’re Frieda’s sister?” But of course she was, Kat thought, wondering why she hadn’t noticed the resemblance between her and Frieda before. Both women shared the same high cheekbones and hourglass figure.

  Marigold crouched down next to Frieda’s other side and set her palm on her knee. “Frieda, what can I do?”

  Frieda’s hands fell away from her face. She blinked at her sister, as though it took her a moment to recognize her. “You can find Landon’s killer,” she said.

  Marigold gasped. “His killer?” She looked at Chief Kenny. “Ken, Landon was murdered?”

  Chief Kenny shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s up to the medical examiner to determine cause of death.”

  “Don’t go all cop on me, Ken.” Marigold stood up and planted her hands on her hips. “Frieda has a right to answers.”

  “And she’ll get them. You’ll just have to be patient.”