Kitty Kitty

by Michele Jaffe

  I looked at Polly. She nodded. I said, “Yes.”

  “Then stop talking to me. And Polly, tell her about the agreement.”

  “Sapphyre gets full custody of the contents of the box, as well as immunity from any of us ever telling anyone that she knows anything about computers, in exchange for her assistance. And you have to call her Sapphyre and not make a face when you do it.”

  “Okay. But if, um, Sapphyre is wearing the dress, what am I going to wear?”

  Polly’s eyes lit up. “Don’t worry, Jas, I’m working on a brilliant costume for you. You just go call Jack and leave everything to us.”

  Of course, I had no intention of calling TRAITORLIPS McSNEAKYSON but her saying that reminded me that I’d wanted to call Beatrice. I didn’t have her number, so I started looking around, and that’s when I thought of Arabella’s phone. Beatrice had called on it the morning of Arabella’s death.

  Fishing it out of the pocket of the jacket I’d been wearing, I remembered the other call. The one that had come in when I was on the phone with Arabella before she died. Possibly the last person to talk to her.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. I scrolled quickly through the call log, finding Beatrice’s call (three minutes five seconds), Arabella’s call to me (six minutes thirty-one seconds), and the call that had interrupted it (twenty-eight seconds). That one came from an Italian cell phone with no name attached, but if she had friends in the city, maybe they could tell me more about her. I dialed, let it ring ten times, got no answer, and hung up. Then I tried Beatrice’s number, with the same result.

  Basically, I had no boyfriend, no new leads, and was about to walk into a trap set by a cunning killer. I was in grave danger of bungee-jumping headfirst into the Pit of Self-pity when something zipped by my cheek and planted itself in the wall.

  “It works,” Roxy said.

  “What was that?”

  “My new dart gun. I made it out of the pen and some of the other stuff in Arabella’s box. It couldn’t have been used on Ned Neal because it would only work if you were up close to him, but it’ll come in handy tonight. I’ll put one in your boot with the, um, other thing.”

  “What other thing?”

  Polly said, “Nothing. Now come here and try on your costume.”

  “I’m not wearing that,” I said when I saw what Polly was holding. “No. And also Way.”

  “It was the only thing that came in your size and was roomy enough for all the weapons systems. And the head is reinforced with your dad’s bike helmet.”

  Little Life Lesson 43: Those are the most frightening words in the English language.

  Polly went on. “What’s wrong with it? It’s completely fetching.”

  “Does fetching mean moldy?”

  “And it’s filled with my latest technological advances,” Roxy said.

  “Mr. T wouldn’t wear this.”

  “Oh, yes, he would.”

  Little Life Lesson 44: Never think that just because your day started with a dialogue about laser sharks and segued into you learning your boyfriend was seeing someone else by having a photo of it flaunted in your face (and who would do that, incidentally?), it cannot get worse. It can always get worse.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Here’s how we went to the masquerade ball:

  ALYSON: In the green velvet part of magical princess dress. Beautiful.

  VERONIQUE: In the petticoat of magical princess dress. Also beautiful.

  ROXY: As human version of Operation game. Attractive in its own way.

  DAVOS: As a mime. Elegant.

  POLLY AND TOM: As twin harlequins, one of which had Sir Lightning emblazoned up the arm. Adorable.

  JAS: As a SIX-FOOT-TALL FULLY WEAPONIZED SQUIRREL WITH MANGE WEARING COWBOY BOOTS AND WATER WINGS. May Cause Retinal Scarring.

  I am surprised people’s eyes didn’t fall out and roll around on the ground with all the staring they were doing. Right from the beginning it was clear that being a GIANT MOLTING SQUIRREL COMPLETE WITH SQUIRREL HELMET was going to be a challenge.38 For example:

  Little Life Lesson 45: Walking in a six-foot-tall molting squirrel costume is completely out of the question due to the presence of a four-foot-long tail. Aka the Magical Tripping Machine.

  Little Life Lesson 46: Also, dancing.

  Little Life Lesson 47: Also eating, drinking, or going to the bathroom.

  Other than that, the ball went great. The time passed pleasantly, 39 and before I knew it (by which I mean, before I lost consciousness from breathing through the tiny holes), it was 10:15.

  My pals assured me they’d planned for every possible scenario. Polly and Tom went outside to man the computer, which they’d somehow synched to the closed-circuit camera system of the church, and Roxy and Davos were at strategic points inside the church keeping an eye on me. Alyson’s job was to circulate and see if anyone shot at her or tried to knock her out (le not).

  But we weren’t ready for what actually happened. I was subtly standing by the pillar but probably not doing a very good job of it40 when I heard a voice. It said in English, “I’m disappointed you didn’t wear my present.”

  At first I thought it was in my head, 41 but then I realized it was outside. And yet, despite my limited range of vision, 42 I could tell there was no one near me.

  “Where are you?” I said. Or rather mumbled.43

  “That doesn’t matter,” the Voice said.

  That’s when I remembered an episode of Commissario Rex where a cop and an informant conducted clandestine meetings in a church that had secret whispering corners so that people could stand on opposite sides of it and chat without anyone in the middle hearing anything.

  Which, I had to admit, was le super cool—slash—smarto.

  “You’ve done a very nice job, Jasmine,” the Voice went on. “It’s been a pleasure to watch you work. Surprising even.”

  “Who are you?”

  The Voice laughed. “You can’t guess?”

  That’s when I realized I was talking to the killer. I scanned all the pillars around the church but they had people near them, most of whom were wearing masks that covered their mouths, and since I couldn’t tell whether the voice belonged to a man or woman, I had no way to narrow the field. The squirrel costume acoustics being what they were, I also couldn’t tell if it had an accent.44

  “Have you figured out how I murdered Ned yet?” the Voice asked.

  For some reason, 45 my brain chose that minute to both conjure up an image of the invisible note Arabella had left me and replay the Mickey Mouse Club song that had been running through it the night before. Which was distracting. Until I realized it was a clue.

  C you real soon.

  C—Arabella’s box at the Bauer was 34C. But the C hadn’t appeared on the invisible note. Arabella hadn’t left off the last part of her box number at the Bauer, it had been covered by the tape along the side. And she hadn’t written FTHR POSND THRU HAND. It was HANDLE.

  I got really excited. “I do know. You unscrewed the handle from the door of his office in the corridor and took it off, which made an opening. A small opening, but big enough for the dart gun you made out of one of his own pens. Those wouldn’t work at any distance, but you didn’t need distance. I bet you stood at the door and whispered to get him to come close to you so you’d be sure to hit him. That’s why he died between the door and his desk. And you tied a piece of blue thread to the end of the dart, so you could pluck it back after it had struck him. After that, all you had to do was screw the knob back on and the room seemed locked and impenetrable again.”

  There was a laugh. I kept watch on the pillars across from me, but I didn’t see anyone laughing. “Marvelous, Miss Callihan. It’s a thrill to hear your reconstruction. I’m very impressed. Now, what about the other murder?”

  “You mean Arabella?”

  “I see,” the killer said, chuckling again. “You still haven’t pieced that together. You will soon. In the meantime
, someone you care about is going to die tomorrow. Would you like to suggest a method? Or would you rather I surprise you?”

  “Which person I care about?”

  “You can’t figure it out? Try to keep up, won’t you? This is only fun if it’s a real competition.”

  “Well, then you should tell me. What kind of a challenge is it if you keep hiding yourself?”

  “Amusing. But a fair point. I won’t tell you who, but I will tell you when. Tomorrow at four fifteen P.M. Unless you stop me first.”

  “Where?”

  “Greedy. I don’t want you to get bored. I’ll let you ask one more question. Make it a good one.”

  “Why did you take the brooch?”

  “That is a good question. When you answer that, you’ll know everything. More or less.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Closer than you think,” the voice said. And at that moment I felt fingers circle my paw.

  Bobby was standing in front of me. He had his mask in his hand and was wearing a blue cape with a black lining. He said, “Hey, Jas. Feeling nutty?” and gave me a big smile.

  I have to admit, I was slightly discombobulated. Could Bobby really be the killer? He was certainly killing me with his humor. I said, “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Sure thing, Squirrel. What?”

  “Stand here and wave when you hear me.”

  “What? Where are you going? Is this because of my joke?”

  Despite the best efforts of my tail I made it across the room without falling down and stood at each pillar saying “Hi, Bobby” until I saw him wave.

  “Hey, this is cool,” he said. “I didn’t know—”

  I didn’t hear the rest because I went tripping outside to where Polly and Tom had set up their communication center.

  “What happened?” Polly asked when I came up. “On the monitor it looked like you were all alone.”

  “Even killers stand Jas up,” Alyson said. “Especially in that outfit.”

  “Yes, I am deeply, almost pathologically uncool, and therefore you should stay far away from me,” I told her.

  “What?” she asked.46

  Veronique, under her three layers of eyelashes, looked concerned. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jas. You’re kind of adorkable. You know, like a cute dork. Or a cooser. Like a cool loser. Or—”

  “Thank you, Tiger’s *Eye,” I said with a meaningful look. But, of course, no one saw it.47

  I turned to Polly. “Can you show me video on the other side of the church when I was talking?”

  They cued it up and played it. At first, I didn’t notice anything, but then I saw a figure in a dark cape with a huge beaked nose standing by the communicating pillar.

  “That’s him.”

  “Who?”

  “The killer. He talked to me from there.”

  “That’s across the church.”

  “I know, but it has one of those whispering effects.”

  “What did he say?” Polly asked.

  For once I was glad I was wearing the squirrel helmet. “That unless we stop him, someone I care about will die tomorrow at four fifteen.”

  There was silence until Roxy said, “Then we’d better figure out who’s under the mask.”

  Polly frowned. “How? It’s a traditional Venetian costume, so there are at least a dozen people dressed that way.”

  “We could go inside and bump into people dressed like that and see if any of them are people we know,” Tom suggested.

  “Or we could just follow that guy,” Roxy said, pointing at the hooded figure who had just come out of the church, looked stealthily in both directions, and plunged into the heart of Venice.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Tom had his BlackBerry out, with a map of Venice on the screen. “Up ahead he can go in one of four directions. We should break into teams and communicate via our walkie-talkies.”

  We all set out—Polly with Tom, Hench with Hench, and Roxy with Davos—and me with tail. But I didn’t mind. Army of one! Go squirrels!

  Sigh.

  Little Life Lesson 55: Although probably not an ideal date activity, it’s kind of lonely to chase after a murderer by yourself.

  I’d gone about fifteen steps when a voice near my squirrel ear said, “We are going on an adventure?” and I looked over and saw Max.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked.

  “I am rowing gondolas for the party and I see you and your friends come out, but before I can come and talk to you, you have scattered. Where do we go?”

  “We’re following someone.” I looked at him suspiciously. Not that he could tell through the Demented Squirrel costume. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Only you can pull this costume off with such style. Also I can tell because you are taller than all your friends.”

  It was a good point.

  “But we should be wagging a leg, no?” he said. “Or, in your case, a tail. We do not want the someone to get away.”

  I agreed and we hurried (him) tripped (me) on.

  When we’d gone halfway down the calle he said, “I do not mean to be the stickler, but I do not see anyone. Is our prey perhaps invisible?”

  “No, we’re just not sure which way he went.”

  “And he looks like what?”

  “Black cape with a black hood.”

  “Ah, the someone is from the ball. You have neglected to mention why exactly do we follow this someone?”

  “I think he’s a murderer.”

  I expected him to stop walking or lecture me or something, but instead he said, “You have really the most interesting hobbies. I am wondering, if you do not mind me asking, is it always like this when you are around?”

  “Like what?”

  “Not boring?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “I think it is. You are a most fascinating woman, Jasmine Noelle.”

  Little Life Lesson 56: One good thing about being dressed as a giant squirrel is no one can see you blush.

  “Thank you,” I said. I think my voice might have cracked a little.

  He grabbed my paw. “And now I think it is time that we end the dillying because I believe I see a black cape up ahead.”

  We rushed on, rounding a corner, and I thought I saw the tip of a cape, too. We were closing on him.

  Max leaned close to say, “Your killer makes a mistake. This calle ends dead at a canal.”

  My heart started to beat fast. BUT ONLY BECAUSE WE HAD THE KILLER. NOT BECAUSE MAX’S FACE WAS NEXT TO MY, um, squirrel head.

  I gulped, looked at the street name, and pushed the button on my wrist walkie-talkie. “Calle Terrazzera. It’s a dead end, the killer’s trapped,” I whispered into it, then looked at Max. “Let’s go.”

  We hugged the wall of the calle as we went, staying in the shadows. It made a sharp left in front of us, and Max put up his hand to stop me.

  “I go first in case there is shooting.”

  “No, I go first in case there is shooting,” I told him.

  “I do not like to introduce the note of disagreement between us but really, it must be me.”

  “Why?”

  “Your costume is rented, no? If something were to happen to it, this would cost a lot of money.”

  “If something were to happen to you, you wouldn’t be able to row the gondola.”

  “Nothing will happen to me. I am trained for six months in the army special forces to do evasive maneuvers.”

  “I am trained for six weeks in break dancing.”

  “Really? What can you do?”

  “Moonwalk, the worm. I’m working on the windmill.”

  “You must show me sometime. But not now. Now I proceed.”

  “I’m armed and dangerous,” I informed him. “You don’t have any weapons.”

  “Weapons? What kind of weapons?”

  “Weapons to cover our approach,” I said, smushing together the wires on one of Roxy’s smoke bombs the
way she’d shown me, and throwing it into the mouth of the calle.

  It made a hissing noise, a popping noise, and a fizzing noise. Then nothing.

  “That was very thrilling,” Max said. “Follow me.”

  He gave an impressive demonstration of Evasive Maneuvering, which mostly made him look like a turtle doing the hustle, then when he’d decided it was safe, beckoned to me. We ran down, around another corner, and stopped.

  We were standing at the edge of a canal. A dead end. There was nowhere for the killer to go.

  But we were alone.

  I peered out over the water, hoping to see a boat or something in the distance, but there wasn’t anything. And yet we couldn’t have missed him.

  “You are sure this killer, he is of flesh and blood. Not invisible?”

  “I am. I was. I guess—”

  This was too much. First Jack making out. Then having to go to a ball dressed as a giant mangy squirrel. And now losing the murderer who had threatened my friends when we’d been so close. The weight of it all hit me and I sort of crumpled.

  “Jasmine Noelle, you are cold.”

  “No,” I sniffled.

  “But you are trembling.”

  “I’m just upset.”

  “Here,” Max said, and put his arms around me. “You are very woolly.”

  That made me laugh.

  “Perhaps you will be happier if you lose your head?”

  “I feel like I’ve already lost it.”

  “I refer, of course, to your costume.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “Yes.”

  I reached up and pulled the squirrel head off.

  “But you are crying!” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and very gently dried my cheeks. “Is this because you miss your friend?”

  “Partially.”

  “Max cannot stand to see le bellissime donne cry,” he told me. “It is not good form. Did I mention that in addition to juggling and balloon dogs, I also make pancakes in amusing shapes? It is a family talent. Perhaps you would like me to show you?”