“Sure, but what happened?” the man asked.
“Emma’s been hurt. Ambulance is coming. I can’t talk right now.”
“Okay,” the stagehand said, lifting the carrier. Cadabra cried a series of shrieks.
When the EMTs arrived, Roy directed them to Emma.
Bardot brushed by the first EMT. “I’ve got to find Emma’s grandmother,” she said as she rushed by.
Emma was sitting up, with her arms by her side. “Roy, are the cats okay?” she asked feebly.
Roy hesitated, then answered, “Cadabra is fine, but Abra escaped from the carrier. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find her. Just concentrate on getting better.”
Emma became agitated and tried to get up. The closest EMT restrained her.
“Miss, you’ve had a blow to the head,” he said. “We want you to be quiet,” then to Roy, “Sir, please, go outside. We’ll take care of her now.”
“Emma, I’ve got to look for Abra,” Roy said, starting to leave.
“Roy, come back. She didn’t escape from the carrier — someone stole her.”
Roy asked, “Did you see who did it?”
“No,” Emma answered, wondering why Roy had asked that question when she’d clearly told him she was hit from behind, then she realized he seemed to be more concerned with Abra’s welfare than her own.
“Sir, I’m not going to tell you again. Leave,” the EMT said to Roy.
Roy put his hands up defensively. “Okay. Got it!” he said, exiting.
A third EMT wheeled in a gurney.
The EMT that had yelled at Roy, said, “Josh, elevate the backrest to 45 degrees. Her head needs to be elevated.”
The man adjusted the head of the gurney.
“Miss, we’re going to lift you up. Don’t try and sit back on the cot until we place the pillow behind your head.”
“Okay,” she said.
The two attendants carefully lifted her and placed her on the gurney.
Pearl rushed into the room. “I’m Emma’s grandmother. What’s going on?”
“Ma’am, we’re taking your granddaughter to the ER. She’s suffered a possible brain injury.”
“Oh, my word.”
“Grammy, come closer. I need to tell you something,” Emma said.
Pearl walked to the side of the gurney and took Emma’s hand.
“Closer than that,” Emma said.
Pearl leaned in and put her ear to Emma’s lips.
Emma whispered frantically, “Why did your boyfriend hit me in the head? I told you to not go through with your plan.”
“We didn’t. Security wouldn’t let us back here. What happened?”
“Someone stole Abra, but they left Cadabra.”
Pearl frowned. “I’m so sorry. We’ll talk about this later,” then she said to one of the EMTs, “Where are you taking her?”
“To the county regional hospital.”
“I don’t know where that is. Can I ride in the ambulance?”
“Yes, by all means,” he said.
“Bless your heart,” she thanked the EMT, then said to Emma, “I need to text Lawrence and tell him what’s going on.”
“When you find out, could you please tell me, because I don’t have a clue,” Emma asked, beginning to slur her words.
“No more talking, sunshine,” Pearl said.
Chapter Nine
Sunday
Emma’s Discharge from the Hospital
A nurse wheeled Emma out of the hospital. Pearl followed, carrying Emma’s cross-body bag.
Lawrence, driving Pearl’s car, pulled up to the curb and parked. Pearl waved at him from the sidewalk and motioned for him to get out.
The nurse asked Emma, “Do you feel okay to stand up?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Pearl tapped Emma on the shoulder. “I’ll get in on the other side and sit next to you.”
“Nurse, I’ll help,” Lawrence said, coming around the Ford Crown Vic. He took one of Emma’s arms. The nurse took Emma’s other arm, and between the two of them, they helped Emma get in the backseat. “By the way, I’m Lawrence,” he said, introducing himself to Emma.
“Please to meet you,” Emma answered.
“Best of luck,” the nurse said, rolling the wheelchair back into the hospital.
“Thanks for everything,” Emma called after her.
Lawrence climbed back into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear. “Where’re we heading, ladies?”
Emma asked, “Can you drive to the Catskills Resort Hotel . . . actually to the hotel’s parking lot? That’s where my car is parked.”
Pearl protested. “Emma, you can’t drive a car. The ER doctor said you’ve suffered a mild concussion. He gave me a long list of things you cannot do for a while, and one of them is driving.”
“But I can’t leave my car in the parking lot. It’ll be towed.”
Lawrence offered, “Emma, I have no problem driving your car to Pearl’s house.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, pulling into traffic.
Emma said to Pearl in a low voice, “Well, Grammy, I guess my brief career as a cat thief is over.”
“I’m sorry, sunshine.”
“Can you explain to me what happened after the show? Why didn’t the two of you use your backstage passes?”
“Afterwards, Lawrence and I bumped into an old friend of mine and her husband. We chatted a bit, then I realized everyone had left the theater, so we excused ourselves and headed to the stage door you told us to go to. This hotel security guard was standing in front of the door. He said there had been a security breach in the back and he couldn’t honor our passes. I’m not a drinker, but I swear he was three sheets to the wind.”
“Just my luck, a drunk security guard. That explains why he wasn’t there to prevent me from being attacked.”
“I know how much the cats meant to you. Why don’t you call Roy and ask him if Abra has been found?”
He sent me a text about an hour ago. Abra is still missing, but Cadabra’s okay.”
“Where’s Cadabra?”
“At the hotel, in a cage,” Emma answered sadly. “I can only imagine how miserable she is without her sister.”
Pearl became agitated. “We can’t leave that poor cat with that monster. We’ve got to go get her.”
“Grammy, that’s impossible.”
“Why? Surely there’s a way.”
“Roy mentioned something else in the text.”
“What was that?”
“Harry fired me. If I try to come back to the hotel, he’s instructed security to remove me.”
Pearl sighed. “I’m so sorry, Emma, but there are some horrible bosses out there. Maybe it’s good you’ll be away from him.”
“Yes, it is, especially for his personal safety. I want to kill him.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that. Did Roy mention anything about the investigation?”
“The police have no suspects, except—”
“Except who?” Pearl asked.
“That good-for-nothing Harry told the police I did it. Can you imagine? I hit myself in the back of the head to make it look like a theft.”
“He’s crazy.”
“So, you see, my little plot to rescue the cats and bring them to your house wouldn’t have worked out anyway. I’d be busted big time.”
“So, you’d planned on cat-napping them after all?”
“Yep.”
Pearl began, worried. “When the police showed up last night, and made me leave your room, I didn’t know what was going on. I mean, you’d just gotten out of the ER, and taken to an observation room. I thought they could have at least waited until you felt better to interview you.”
“The cops were just doing their job. Don’t worry, Grammy. After I talked to them, they seemed convinced that I had nothing to do with it.”
“Emma, dear, do you have any idea who hit you?”
&nb
sp; “Not a clue.”
“Let’s not worry about it.”
“I can’t stop worrying about it. I’m an unemployed twenty-something with no job prospects in mind.”
“Why don’t you go back to school? You can live with me. That would be so much fun?”
“The thought crossed my mind. I’ve got enough money saved to go to school, that is, enough for a year or two.”
“Sounds like a wonderful plan,” Pearl said, taking Emma’s hand into hers. “NYU is just a hop, skip away,” then changed the subject, “Not to sound bossy, but can you do something for me?”
“Yes, of course, what?”
“Later today, if you feel up to it, there’s someone I want you to talk to.”
“Who?”
“My dear friend, Miriam, belongs to an animal welfare group. You need to report that despicable man.”
“Grammy, I have no power to stop him.”
“But maybe Miriam’s group can.”
Lawrence drove into the resort hotel’s parking lot. “Emma, where’s your car parked?” he asked.
“Drive all the way to the back of the parking lot. It’s a blue Toyota Corolla,” Emma said, searching her bag for her keys.
Pearl said to Lawrence, “I bet you’re exhausted.”
“I got some sleep, but let me tell ya about the furniture at the hospital. The sofa was as hard as a rock,” he answered.
“I feel terrible you didn’t get any sleep,” Emma apologized.
“I’d do anything for your grandmother, and that includes you.”
“Aw,” Pearl said with a gush of gratification. “Lawrence, you’re such a doll.”
Emma nodded toward Lawrence. “Grammy, you have my seal of approval.”
“He’s a keeper,” Pearl said happily.
Chapter Ten
Monday Morning
Upper West Side of Manhattan
Roland Lincoln instructed his driver to pull in front of the Specialty Top Cats pet store and let him off. “I’m not sure how long this will take,” he advised. “Maybe a few minutes, maybe longer. Just drive around the block and find parking where you can. I’ll text you when I’m ready.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said.
Roland got out of the limo and walked inside the store. He quickly glanced around the room at the individual glassed enclosures full of kittens — all kinds of kittens. He recognized a few of the breeds: Persian, Burmese and Himalayans. A middle-aged woman with short, spiky red hair approached from the back.
“Welcome,” she said warmly. “My name is Margaret. How may I help you this morning?”
“I’m looking for a Siamese,” Roland said.
“Oh, you’re in luck. I have several pedigreed Siamese kittens from a magnificent bloodline. Their mama was a grand champion, having won several award ribbons at cat shows held throughout the United States. Over here,” she said, walking over to an enclosure of four kittens: two seal-points, a lilac-point and a blue-point.
“I’m not looking for a kitten. I’m looking for an adult Siamese. A seal-point with a wedge-shaped head—”
“And sapphire blue eyes,” the woman finished.
“Yes, exactly. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Roland Lincoln. My wife and I live out on Long Island. We recently lost our Siamese to cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Roland continued, “My wife is battling cancer herself. She’s mourned the loss of Duchess to the point where, I believe, it has affected her recovery.”
“That’s very unfortunate. Was Duchess your cat’s name?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live on Long Island?”
“Oyster Bay. Can you tell me if you have any adult Siamese, preferably a female? If it’s a simple no, I can text my chauffeur to pick me up.”
“Chauffeur,” the woman said, eyeing Roland curiously, noting that he must have money to have a personal driver. “I do have an adult Siamese cat who just came in. She’s a rescue.”
“How old is she?” Roland asked.
“She’s approximately two-years-old.”
“That’s perfect,” Roland said, thinking about Duchess’s age when she died.
“However, allow me to make myself clear. She’s a rescue and comes ‘as is.’”
“What does that mean? Comes ‘as is?’”
“It means I don’t know anything about her history — whether or not she’s had her shots or even been seen by a veterinarian.”
“Okay, I’m good with that,” Roland said, pulling out his wallet and extracting a photo of Duchess. “This was my Siamese. Does your rescue look like her?”
Margaret ignored the question, but commented, “Beautiful, exquisite Siamese. Did you buy her from my store?”
Roland shook his head. “No, Duchess came from a Siamese breeder out on the island.”
“Before I show you the cat, let me say that I take in specialty breed rescues from different rescue organizations or from individuals. These cats may or may not have health or behavioral issues.”
“What kind of behavioral problems?”
“I don’t know if you are aware, but many Siamese end up in animal shelters because their owners simply cannot stand their incessant meows.”
“My wife and I don’t have a problem with that. Duchess had quite a vocabulary,” he laughed. “We loved her for it.”
“A Siamese rescue came to me yesterday afternoon. I haven’t had time to take her to the vet for an examination. She’s very upset.”
“I’d like to see her.”
“Follow me to the back. I’ll show her to you.”
Roland followed the woman through a parted curtain to a small room with several stainless steel cages in it, stacked on top of each other. In the middle cage, lay a lean, wedge-headed seal-point with deep blue eyes. Roland did a dead stop. “Wow,” he said. “Unbelievable.”
“Something wrong?” Margaret asked.
“This cat is a dead ringer for my cat Duchess.”
“Awww,” the Siamese cried in a weak voice.
“Is she sick?” Roland asked, getting closer to the cage. “She sounds hoarse.”
“She’s in some kind of shock from being brought here. I have no idea where she came from. Sometimes my sources are . . . let me find the right words . . . shady at best, but I don’t care because I love cats—”
“How much?” Roland asked, cutting her off.
“I’m not sure I want to sell her. She’s obviously from a pedigreed bloodline. I could enter her in a cat show. She’s perfect in every regard.”
“I’ll take her.”
“But, sir, I haven’t told you my price. Certainly, I’d want to be reimbursed for what I paid for her with a little extra ‘finder’s fee.’”
“Yes, yes. I’m prepared to pay your fee,” Roland said impatiently.
“Well on that note,” the woman hesitated, then said, “I’m asking thirty-thousand dollars.”
“Fine,” Roland said without flinching at the exorbitant price. “I’ll have my bank wire you the money. Do you have a cat carrier I can buy? I want to take her right now.”
“Sir, before we close the transaction, we must have an understanding. Obviously, this cat is a purebred, but because she’s a rescue, I have no way of finding out if she’s registered —”
“Registered where?”
“CFA. It’s an organization that keeps track of bloodlines of purebred cats.”
Roland raised his hand dismissively. “Oh, that doesn’t matter. My wife and I don’t care if she’s registered. So, what’s the understanding?”
The woman looked down at the floor, then back up. “You must be very discreet and never tell anyone where you got her. You must never show her in a cat show. She must be an inside cat only.”
“Yes, of course. I understand,” Roland said, then asked, “Wait a minute. Just a few seconds ago, you said you wanted to show the cat.”
“I guess I did. Sorry,” the woman sai
d, flustered.
“Is the cat stolen?” Roland asked bluntly, getting more irritated by the second.
“Sir, like I said, she’s a rescue. I don’t know anything beyond that.”
“You don’t know the person or persons who brought the Siamese to your store?” Roland asked incredulously.
“Well, yes,” the woman said, “but he wishes to remain anonymous.”
“Say no more. My wife and I will never tell anyone, that is, if you never tell anyone whom you sold the cat to. Deal?”
“Deal,” Margaret smiled. “I’ll get a carrier,” she said, exiting the room and heading to the front of the store.
Roland called after her, “And, I’ll need the routing information for your bank. Plus, a litterbox and cat litter.”
“Right-o,” Margaret answered.
Roland leaned in and put his finger through the cage. “You darling, precious little girl,” he admired. “I’m going to take you to your new home now. I know you’ll make my wife so happy, and me, too.”
The Siamese got up, stretched, and padded over to the man. She blinked an eye kiss and nuzzled his finger. “Raw,” she cried.
Chapter Eleven
Duchess the Second
The chauffeur drove into the Lincolns’ circular drive and parked in front of the mansion. He got out and opened the rear door. Roland exited, then leaned in to grab the cardboard cat carrier Margaret had sold him. Inside the carrier, the Siamese crouched on the floor, and peered through one of the small circular openings. She inserted her V-shaped jaw and started to chew around the hole to make it bigger. This was something she’d been working on since they’d left the specialty cat store.
“Okay, little girl,” Roland said. “You keep that up and you’ll be out of that carrier soon. Let’s get you to the house.”
“I’ll help you with your bags,” the chauffeur offered.
“Yes, thanks, Mel. Go ahead and park the car in the garage, and bring the cat stuff to my wife’s bedroom.”
“Yes, sir.”
Roland carried the cat carrier to the house. Margo, the personal assistant, saw him coming up the front steps, and opened the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Lincoln. What do you have there?”
“A surprise present for Olivia.”
The Cats that Stopped the Magic (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 9) Page 6
