Claws of Death

by Linda Reilly

  “Let me help,” Lara said. “I’m a few inches taller.”

  She retrieved the purse and gave it to Deanna. Deanna opened the latch. She pulled out her keychain, a dainty square of burnished brass engraved with a lavender rose. In the next instant she cried out sharply. The purse flew from her hands. Two fat earthworms tumbled out and plopped, wriggling, onto the floor.

  Lara grabbed a paper towel from the holder on the counter. She scooped up the squirming creatures, opened the back door, and hurried out into the parking lot. She found a grassy area adjacent to the blacktop and dumped out the worms. A mild shiver skimmed down her arms. Normally worms didn’t bother Lara—she knew they were beneficial to the environment.

  But someone had intended to frighten Deanna.

  She went back inside, threw the paper towel in the waste can, and washed her hands in the sink. Deanna stood gawking at her, her face pale. The keychain rested on the counter next to the sink. “Did you get rid of them?”

  “Yes, I found a grassy spot and dumped them.”

  Deanna shuddered. She was still clutching the business card she’d intended to shove inside her purse. Lara tried to read the name on the card, but all she saw was “Donald” and something that began with W-A. She thought she spied the image of a car in the lower corner.

  “Deanna, are you all right?” Lara asked. “Do you want some water?”

  Deanna shook her head, then forced out a laugh. “Lara, do you remember the old seventies horror movie about the giant earthworms that ravaged a seaside town?”

  “Sorry, I don’t,” Lara admitted. It had to be way, way before her time.

  A bit of color had returned to Deanna’s face. “It was one of my first movie roles. I played the sheriff’s niece. In the end, a giant worm devoured me whole.” She shook her head. “I was so young when I made that silly movie. When you’re a newbie in show biz, you take any parts you can get, even if they’re horrible.”

  Lara smiled. Where was she going with this?

  “All I’m saying is that whoever put those worms in my purse obviously remembered the film and thought it would be funny. It was a prank, nothing more. Believe me, it’s not the first time something like this has happened.”

  “Yeah, but it was a mean thing to do.” Lara wasn’t willing to dismiss it so easily. “Do you think that man could’ve done it?” She slid her gaze toward the card Deanna was still holding.

  Deanna flashed her trademark smile, but her eyes held a touch of worry. “You mean my uninvited guest? No, that wouldn’t be his style at all.”

  “Is he someone local?” Lara asked.

  “Let’s just say he’s someone I knew when I was a teen. I have no idea where he lives now.”

  From her odd tone, Lara suspected the man had been a boyfriend. She also figured he was the “worm man,” even if Deanna didn’t agree. Still, she knew it was risky to jump to conclusions.

  “Deanna,” Lara asked, “other than Evelyn, who else might have seen you stick your purse in that cupboard?”

  The actress shrugged. “Frankly, I’m not sure I could narrow it down. I arrived here right on time, so the kitchen was busy by then. Those two waiters were scuttling in and out of the kitchen. Evelyn kept barking orders at them. Some of the Ladies’ Association members came in through the kitchen door. They’re apparently familiar with the layout. I saw one of them slide a covered tray into the fridge.”

  Lara blew out a sigh. No shortage of potential culprits.

  It had been foolhardy for Deanna, with her celebrity status, to tuck her purse into a cupboard in view of other people. Evelyn Conley should have advised against it instead of urging her to do it.

  Deanna looked calmer now. She touched Lara’s arm. “Lara, would you mind taking my purse to my car and putting it in the trunk?” She grimaced at the keychain. “I’ll probably have to throw that away, too. It was in my purse there with those…things.”

  “It so pretty,” Lara said. “Maybe you could clean it up instead of tossing it?”

  Deanna frowned. “I’ll think about it. You know, I’m grateful that I didn’t trade in my vintage Mercedes before I moved here. It opens with a regular key, the way a car should. Those new keyless entry systems are too high-tech for an old gal like me.”

  Lara scooped the keychain off the counter. “You’re far from old, Deanna, but I know what you mean about those new keyless systems. I drive my aunt’s old Saturn, and that’s high-tech enough for me.”

  “Thank you, Lara,” Deanna said gratefully. “I’d go out myself, but I’m afraid there might be some looky-loos hanging about. You can imagine how it is.”

  Lara could well imagine. Being a star came with a price, including an annoying lack of privacy.

  “Happy to help,” Lara said. “The trunk, right?”

  “Yes, that will be fine. And can you hold onto the key for me? I noticed you have a pocket in that adorable sundress you’re wearing.”

  “Sure thing,” Lara said, warmed at the compliment. “Be right back.”

  * * * *

  The parking lot was jammed with cars. Deanna’s Mercedes was parked in the only shady spot—under the single carport at the rear of the building. According to Aunt Fran, the local Ladies’ Association paid a fee to hold its monthly meetings at the historical society.

  Lara shot a glance over at the Saturn she shared with her aunt. It was parked near the road, adjacent to the sidewalk. They’d left the windows tightly closed, but now she wondered if she should she crack one of them open a bit. She mulled it over only for a moment. After the car’s recent servicing, the AC was in fine working order and able to cool the inside in short order.

  She was heading to Deanna’s car when she spied a shaggy head peering into the back seat of the Saturn. Altering her direction, she went over and found a thin, sixtyish man with a grizzled beard gawking through the window into the back seat. Lara sidled up cautiously, halting about ten feet from the car. “May I help you with something?”

  The man jumped slightly. He looked at her with a bland expression, his Red Sox shirt stained with what appeared to be chocolate ice cream. “Is there a cat in there?”

  “A cat?” Lara smiled. The man had obviously spotted the emergency pet carrier they kept in the back seat in the event they came upon an animal in need of rescuing. But why was he peeking inside the Saturn in the first place? Had something drawn his attention to the car?

  “No, there’s no cat in there,” Lara said. “I’d never leave a cat or any animal in a hot car.”

  “Or a baby,” the man said, nodding.

  “Or a baby,” Lara repeated. “Are you looking for someone?”

  The man stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were a pale brown and somewhat opaque, like a swirl of milk chocolate. He shook his head mechanically. “No, I have to go now. I need more ice cream. I have money.”

  With that he turned and hustled toward the sidewalk, his long legs moving swiftly in the direction of the ice cream truck parked on the next corner. Lara watched him for another minute or so. When he didn’t reappear, she shrugged and went over to Deanna’s car.

  Still holding Deanna’s purse and car key, she was approaching the driver’s side of the Mercedes when she abruptly stopped short. On the window, scrawled in what seemed to be a garish-colored lipstick, were the words TIME TO PAY THE PIPER.

  Lara sucked in a breath. She moved a tiny step closer to the car. Beneath the message, in the same color lipstick, was a hastily drawn symbol. To Lara it resembled a flower of some sort, sketched within the confines of a circle.

  Heart pounding, Lara stepped away from the car. She slid her cell out from the deep pocket of her dress and took a quick photo of the graffiti.

  After that, she turned and hurried back inside. Deanna would need to report the vandalism. She should also report the worms.

  But it wasn’t th
e graffiti that worried Lara. It was the message itself.

  Time to pay the piper.

  Was it a threat? Was someone out to harm Deanna?

  Chapter 3

  “I can’t believe we’re about to enter Deanna Daltry’s home,” Lara said. If she’d tried, she couldn’t have suppressed the excitement in her voice.

  “I know,” Aunt Fran said. “I feel like such a groupie, getting this giddy over it.”

  Today was the day—the kittens were ready for their new home. Lara had tucked their furry charges atop a thick towel inside the cat carrier, and she and Aunt Fran were delivering them to Deanna. Aunt Fran was carrying the colored-pencil sketch Lara had made of the kittens. It was the gift she presented to each person or family who adopted from the shelter.

  Lara swung her aunt’s Saturn onto the circular driveway and stopped in front of the old stone manse. She shut off the engine. She wasn’t surprised that Deanna’s Mercedes was nowhere to be seen.

  The actress had been thoroughly shaken by the bizarre message someone had written on her car window. The worms had been bad enough, but those words—time to pay the piper—had raised the creep factor to a whole new level.

  The police had first deemed it a prank, a cruel taunt by someone who disliked Deanna’s personal style. Chief Whitley, however, had taken it more seriously and commenced an investigation. With Deanna’s consent, they’d taken her vehicle into custody, but only until a forensic exam could be performed.

  The discovery of the lipstick graffiti had created quite a stir at the welcome party. Much to Evelyn Conley’s dismay, the gig had broken up early. While the police hadn’t wanted to ruffle any local feathers, they’d nonetheless performed discreet interviews of each of the attendees. Several of the guests had voluntarily given up their lipstick tubes for analysis.

  That lipstick—the color had stuck in Lara’s mind. Brightly colored and glossy, it looked suspiciously like the shade of red Evelyn had been wearing. Still, she didn’t want to point any fingers. There were hundreds of shades and brands of lipstick. And Evelyn clearly adored Deanna. She’d practically fallen at her feet when Deanna had first arrived.

  The stone mansion sat at the top of Cemetery Hill, overlooking a family graveyard. According to Aunt Fran, the cemetery’s granite markers, some worn and illegible, dated as far back as 1864. The most recent was that of Alston Blythe, who died, childless, in 1938. After his death, the property fell into disrepair, and for decades sat neglected and unoccupied. Eventually the town took it for unpaid taxes, but couldn’t persuade anyone to buy it.

  Until Deanna Daltry came along.

  The renovations had taken nearly four years, but the results had been spectacular.

  “It’s strange,” Aunt Fran said. “I’ve lived in this town all my life, but I’ve never seen the inside.”

  “Oh, but the outside is fabulous, isn’t it?” Lara said. “I’ve already decided I’m going to paint it and give the watercolor to Deanna as a housewarming gift.” Lara eyed the granite stairs that led to the open front porch, then looked over at her aunt. “Are you going to be okay walking up those steps?”

  “I think so. As long as I take it slow.”

  Five months earlier, Aunt Fran had undergone surgery on her left knee. The procedure had gone smoothly, and after two months of physical therapy she was walking with only an occasional twinge. She still faced a replacement of her right knee, but was putting it off until the end of the month.

  “We’d better get the kittens inside,” Lara said. “The car’s already starting to get warm.”

  Cat carrier in one hand, Lara looped her free arm through her aunt’s and together they picked their way carefully up the granite steps. The corner column of the stone entryway was covered in ivy. A light summer breeze lifted the leaves.

  A massive oak door with a rounded arch loomed before them. On the door was a grapevine wreath clustered with bright colored silk dahlias, a huge lavender bow at the top. Lara pressed a newish-looking buzzer. Within moments the door was opened by a long-faced, fortysomething woman wearing black denim capris and a crisp white blouse. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Ms. Clarkson and Ms. Caphart?”

  “Yes,” Lara said, smiling at the woman. “We’re here with Noodle and Doodle.”

  The woman, her thick, coal-black hair an odd contrast to her salt-and-pepper eyebrows, gave them an unsmiling nod. “Come in. I’m Nancy Sherman, Ms. Daltry’s housekeeper. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Instead of leaving, she pulled a cell phone from her pocket and tapped it twice. After a moment, she said quietly into the phone, “Your guests are here with the cats.”

  Without another word, she turned and went off toward a door at the rear of the foyer.

  Lara gazed around in awe at the huge entryway. The floor was marble, the walls papered with scenes straight out of the French countryside. The air felt surprisingly cool. Did the mansion have central air? Or did the stone structure keep the inside from getting overly warm?

  At that moment, Lara spied Deanna scurrying down a winding stone stairway into the foyer. Her pink jersey T-shirt over a pair of white shorts made her look at least ten years younger than her reputed seventy-two years. Her makeup was subtle, applied with perfection. She greeted them warmly, hugging each one in turn, but her gaze was homed in on the cat carrier.

  “I have a delightful room all made up for the kittens,” Deanna said, her tone rising with enthusiasm. “This place is so vast. I thought it best to restrict them to one area for a few days, and then gradually let them explore.”

  “That’s a good plan,” Aunt Fran said. “Kittens acclimate best when they start off in a small area. Even confining them to a bathroom works well for the first few days.”

  All true, but Lara knew that kittens’ natural curiosity could get them into trouble even in a confined space.

  They followed Deanna up the stairs, where a hallway covered in plush Oriental carpeting led to the rear section of the mansion. The actress opened the door to one of the rooms and ushered them inside. She closed the door behind them.

  “I thought this would be the perfect starter room, so to speak,” Deanna explained. “Eventually, of course, they’ll have the run of the house.”

  “I can see why you chose this as a starter room,” Aunt Fran said. “It’s beautiful!”

  Sunlight streamed through the rounded arches of the room’s two towering windows, both of which faced east. Along the wall, below the windows, was a built-in oak seat adorned with a thick tapestry cover that stretched its entire length. A plump kitty bed sat against one wall. A fountain that dispensed fresh water rested next to a set of food bowls. One bowl contained kitten kibble. Two others were empty. A cat-shaped toy box sat nearby, stuffed with all sorts of kitty playthings.

  “By the way, this is for you,” Aunt Fran said, giving the pencil sketch to Deanna.

  Deanna accepted it with a smile. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she said. “I’ll ask Nancy to frame it—she’s quite good at crafts. She made that wreath on the front door. Isn’t it spectacular?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Lara agreed, setting down the carrier. Doodle, the male, pressed his nose against the zippered screen door and issued a pathetic mewl. “I know,” Lara said softly, “you’re getting antsy in there.” She laughed and unzipped the door. Doodle hopped out first. His sister peered around cautiously before following in his wake. With the two black stripes around one of his forepaws, Doodle looked like a cat assigned to patrol the room.

  “Oh, look at them,” Deanna said. “I desperately want to hold them, but I know I should let them explore the room for a while first.”

  “You can hold them in a few minutes,” Lara said. “Give them a chance to look around for a bit.” She looked over at the cat bed. “If you have a sweatshirt, or something you’ve worn and haven’t washed yet, you might want to lay it over their bed for a few days. That way they
’ll get used to your scent.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea,” Deanna said. “And before you ask…” She went over to a side door and opened it. “When I had this place gutted and remodeled, I made sure the builders added a private bath to each of the upstairs rooms. As you can see, the kittens’ litter box is all set for them. And I assure you, it will be scrupulously maintained.”

  Aunt Fran peeked into the bathroom and smiled approvingly. “The kittens are going to be very happy here. I can see that already.”

  Lara agreed. The room had been kitten-proofed for safety. Electrical cords had been wrapped and tucked out of reach. Outlets were properly covered.

  Deanna couldn’t resist any longer. She bent down and scooped up Noodle, hugging the kitten to the hollow of her neck. Noodle closed her eyes in sheer bliss and pressed a paw to Deanna’s throat.

  “She’s purring. I can hear her.” Deanna grinned. “Oh, I can’t wait until they’re curling up with me at night in my bedroom.”

  Lara felt a smile widening her cheeks. In spite of yesterday’s drama, Deanna seemed totally at ease, elated over the arrival of her feline furbabies.

  A sudden movement near the window caught Lara’s eye. On the tapestry-covered bench sat Blue, her tail swishing, her eyes alight with curiosity.

  Lara felt her heart thump. How did you get here? she asked silently.

  She knew that only she could see Blue. But never before had the elusive Ragdoll ventured this far from Aunt Fran’s Folk Victorian. Was she here to check out the kittens’ new place? To add her seal of approval?

  Blue glanced at Lara, blinked, then went back to studying Deanna. By that time, Doodle had hopped onto Deanna’s right sandal and was munching happily on the strap.