As if a dedicated stalker ever obeyed a flimsy piece of paper, no matter how massive the weight of courts and law enforcement might be behind it.
“It’s a long story,” Amanda said with a sibilant sigh, motioning me toward a sleek Scandinavian sofa of bright red cushions on a polished pine frame. I sat obediently—the only act of obedience I intended during this uncomfortable meeting—while she lowered herself as gracefully as a model might onto a matching loveseat.
Almost as if she’d called them, her cats, who hadn’t made an appearance since my entrance into the house, padded single file from the hallway and, as gracefully as their mistress, leapt up onto her loveseat and took their places at the opposite sides of its backrest. Interesting how they apparently stuck together. Another couple of my cat clients did the same, but most of the felines I’d seen stayed solitary, even in households with multiple cat members.
“Hi, darlings,” Amanda crooned. Both purred in response, which made me smile despite my irritation at their treatment of Lexie. “They’re Bengal cats. Aren’t they beautiful? Cherise is the larger one.”
Although her inquiry was rhetorical, I nevertheless agreed. Bengal cats? I knew cats sometimes came in breeds as dogs did, but I’d met few in my pet-sitting situations.
Still stroking the kitties, Amanda went on to explain her earlier answer. “My TRO forbids Leon from getting within a hundred feet of my house, or within thirty feet of my person. But it’s my doctors’ office where he shows up most, and the TRO doesn’t cover that.”
“Really? Why not ask your lawyer to get the TRO amended?”
She shook her head, and her blond hair bobbed prettily—darn her. “I don’t dare. My doctors would be horrified.”
“But surely your employers are even more horrified about having a stalker around harassing one of their staff.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Leon is claiming lots of cardiac issues—chest pains, palpitations, you name it. Anything to supposedly justify visits to my office. My doctors give him a clean bill of health, but for fear of liability if something’s wrong that they haven’t found, they let him make further appointments. I try to take those days off, but he always manages to postpone or need further tests … In fact, Leon’s the main reason I asked you here.”
Leon was her excuse to summon me? Yeah, right. Well, whatever her real reason, it was about time that she bared her claws. And that I unsheathed mine.
Still … “You need to stop using your stalker as an excuse to keep in contact with Jeff,” I asserted pointedly, abandoning all pretext of politeness, at least for this significant moment.
Leon might be the lead-in, but I was sure Amanda had asked me here to engage in a showdown at the Not-So-Okay Corral, a final fight over the currently out-of-town subject of our rivalry. No sense skirting the subject any longer. The litigator in me was ready to take my ten paces and draw.
Amanda just blinked, as if amazed at my effrontery—especially after our somewhat civil conversation. “Tea?” She gestured to a blue ceramic pot and matching cups I’d barely noticed on the low-slung pine table between us. Her skills at subject-changing were stupefying.
“Please,” I responded. Drinking would supply me with a superior use of my hands than keeping them balled into fists. Or aiming an imaginary six-shooter.
Amanda started speaking again a minute later as I sipped apple-spiced tea. “I hadn’t exactly planned things that way, of course, but I admit that, initially, there was some good in Leon’s terrifying me.”
“So my suspicions that you hired Leon to stalk you aren’t true?”
“I never thought of it,” she said with a sigh. “And if I had, I’d have hired someone I could control rather than that scary son of a bitch who won’t leave me alone.”
“I guess,” I admitted.
Damn. The woman was sounding … well, human. I liked it better when she showed fangs as fiercely as any wild feline. That way, I could insult her back with impunity.
“Anyway”—I glanced at my watch—“I don’t like leaving Lexie in the car. And I need to leave soon anyway. Oh, and by the way, I know you’ve already blown off the other P.I. Jeff referred you to, to help you deal with Leon.”
A few weeks back, Jeff had called us both to his home and essentially handed Amanda her walking papers. Made his choice—me over her—perfectly clear.
That was when he’d given Amanda the name of another investigator to call.
“He wasn’t nearly as helpful as Jeff.” She shook her head briskly, just as she’d shaken off the advice.
“As if you gave him a chance.”
“How would you know?”
“He told Jeff,” I replied.
“And Jeff told you?”
I nodded, although, in fact, I was telling a bit of a fib. I’d obtained the info from Jeff’s security company’s best computer geek, Althea, with whom I’d become buddies. Apparently that P.I. pal of Jeff’s had called to vent about the bitch client Jeff had sent his way and Althea’s ears had born the brunt of it.
Bengal cats by her side notwithstanding, I’d no intention of further pussyfooting around. “Why don’t you just tell me why you asked me here?” I said. Stop with the niceness that I don’t trust any more than I would if a genuine leopard offered to lick my hand. Was she about to insist that I slide out of Jeff’s life forevermore so she could slither back in unimpeded, never mind what the man in question wanted?
“I need your help.” She sounded as if that admission almost made her upchuck.
My turn to blink. If she thought I would step in and help her get Jeff back, she was certifiably insane. And what other assistance could she imagine I’d give? Did she need legal help?
I didn’t represent people I resented.
“Like I said, it’s all about Leon,” she continued, her gray eyes downcast and sad. What, no more snide smiles? I almost preferred them to her semblance of genuine emotion. “The guy won’t give up. I’ve even had to change my unlisted phone number again. I won’t ask your legal advice since I already have a lawyer.” And a good thing, too. “But the truth is, I’m scared.”
“And you think I can help you how?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. But I saw how you helped Jeff when he was accused of murder. I’ve gathered from him that you’re a really nice person.”
My lover held conversations about how great I am with his ex who wanted him back?
I felt a trace of warm fuzzies tickling my insides …
Only I couldn’t believe it. And even if it were true, and Amanda had stomached Jeff’s compliments of me, what was the benefit to her of revealing it to me?
Amanda took a long sip of spiced tea, staring over her cup with those same sad eyes. “You have to know I’m at wit’s end for me to even think of turning to you, Kendra. But I am. Jeff’s done a good job of trying to keep Leon away, but even he hasn’t succeeded. From all I’ve heard about you, you think outside the box. Maybe you can come up with something to help me get Leon out of my life once and for all.”
“Even if I wanted to help you, Amanda—”
“But you don’t. I understand. But … well, I’m scared enough that I’m leaving town for a couple of weeks. And to give you an idea how hard that is for me, last time I left, when I visited my parents, Cherise and Carnie were so upset at being boarded with their vet that they didn’t eat. They even lost some of their pretty coats. But this time I’m flying someplace else, and I can’t easily take them with me. I love these cats”—Who happened to hear they were the topic of discussion and snuggled up more with their mistress—“and even so I have to go for a while, since Leon’s been around my office nearly every day. I’ve taken a leave of absence, but I can’t be gone too long—I can’t afford it. And I’m going to be so worried about Carnie and Cherise.”
I looked at the cats in question. They might have been ridiculously rude to sweet Lexie, but they clearly loved Amanda. Not eat? Suffer since their mama had to leave town?
&n
bsp; “Have you ever considered leaving your cats here at home?” I asked her. “Maybe they’d do better in a familiar environment.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But who’d come in to make sure they were all right?” The somberness of her face suddenly brightened. “You’re a pet-sitter. Would you … ?”
I suddenly straightened in shock and alarm, recognizing at last where all this was heading. My mouth immediately moved to protest, but Amanda spoke again first.
“No, forget it. Bad idea.”
She was absolutely correct. Kowtow to Amanda as a client? Heck, no! “You’re right,” I agreed. “It’d never work. Hire someone else.”
“But I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”
Unfortunately, I’d not yet developed reciprocal relationships with other pet-sitters, or I might otherwise have handed Amanda a referral. That way, I could pat myself on the back for helping someone I hated because it was an emergency. I had a sometime assistant, of course, but using her services would still result in my responsibility for Amanda’s cats.
“Sorry,” I said. “Even if I could find another sitter, it couldn’t be that fast.”
“What an awful choice,” Amanda said with a sigh. “I can leave them at their vet’s. It’s familiar and I trust the people, but I know my babies won’t eat there, or probably any other place I’d board them away from home. Or, I can ask you to care for them despite hating me.” Once again she sighed, then said, “Well, I know things’ll be bad for them at the vet’s. Please, Kendra. Take care of my kitties for me.”
“Forget it. No way will I become your pet-sitter.” Or do anything else to help this witch who wouldn’t leave my lover alone.
“I’m begging you, Kendra. I’ll be so worried about them otherwise.”
“You’d trust me to take care of them?” I asked incredulously.
“I know you love animals.”
“No,” I said, standing.
“You don’t love animals?”
“Of course I do, but no way will I watch your cats.”
“All right, then,” Amanda said, sounding choked. Which caused me to look straight into her face. Her eyes were wet. Tears? Maybe—the crocodile kind. “Good thing Jeff isn’t speaking to me, or I’d have to tell him that you’re willing to let some poor cats suffer just because you hate me.”
Which meant she’d find a way to communicate this wretched and somewhat true thought to him. Would he care?
I’d care.
Well, hell. So what if the woman was more than manipulative, and I wasn’t exactly the patsy type? The cats’ well-being hung in the balance, not Amanda’s. Even if they were hers. And they’d given poor Lexie such a lousy time.
But they were kind of cute. And the fact that they didn’t have acceptable manners was hardly a surprise since they belonged to a bitch like Amanda.
Was I really considering this?
I knew exactly what Amanda was doing: daring me.
Manipulating me.
If I said no, she’d have something else to sling in my face—that I was a coward. Boy, would she gloat. To me. To Jeff.
If I said yes, she’d feel she had me in her chic pants pocket.
Ah, hell. I was a lot of things, but a wimp wasn’t one of them. I looked again at Amanda. Tears streamed down her cheeks. No way was the witch as upset as she appeared. But no matter what I thought about her, the cats’ health and welfare could genuinely be at stake.
“Okay, Amanda,” I finally said, facing her with a frosty smile. “I’ll do it—at triple my usual rate.” I quoted the cost, which was outrageous-sounding, even to me.
“What!” she shouted. “No way.”
“Yes way,” I countered. “Take it or leave it.”
I finally left her house a while later, keys and contract in hand. I’d made it clear that this was a onetime honor. Next trip, suffering cats or not, she’d have to make other arrangements.
She had agreed to my inflated rate.
Which left me with the biggest question of all: Why had Amanda really wanted to hire me?
Chapter Two
AS I STRODE from Amanda’s, I had a driving desire to dump my troubles on my best human friend in the world: Darryl Nestler, owner of the Doggy Indulgence Day Resort on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. But when I glanced at my watch, I found it was after five and realized how poor my timing would be if I drove to Darryl’s. He’d be smack in the middle of saying daily adieus to the canines in his charge.
Instead, I imposed my ranting and raving about Amanda’s manipulation, money or not, on Lexie. “I should call her and say my schedule’s way too full after all.” I grabbed for my purse and the cell inside, then stopped. “But what about the poor cats? I know you don’t like them, Lex. I should listen to you and dump the whole dumb idea. Only … what would Jeff think if I finked out after agreeing? Do I care what he thinks? He’s becoming too much trouble anyway.”
I took a right turn too quickly. Lexie slid from her post guarding the dashboard, which made me feel even more guilty. “Sorry,” I said. “And as much as I hate to spoil your fun, one of these days I’ll have to stick you into a doggy seat belt, for safety’s sake.”
Her doleful expression suggested she understood. But she turned her back, hopped her furry little bod back up onto the shotgun seat, and again stared out the window—this time sitting instead of perched upright on her paws. I supposed that, if she spoke English, she’d have told me she’d sit still like a good dog should if only I forbore from restraining her.
Although we were sleeping at Jeff and Odin’s that night, I aimed our route toward home. I needed a change of clothes.
I also needed to sound out Rachel Preesinger, daughter of Russ, who rented my house. Russ initially moved in as a subtenant, but since my prior lessees were now clearly committed to not returning, I’d recently agreed to lease the place directly to him. More important at this moment, Rachel was my assistant pet-sitter at Critter TLC, LLC, and I needed info about her availability to tend to some nasty cats.
Had I truly allowed myself to be manipulated for hidden reasons I hadn’t yet unearthed?
Oh, yeah.
Maybe I was wrong and could take all Amanda said at face value—ignoring how much I despised everything about her, including her face.
On the other hand, maybe she truly had been desperate and hiring me as a pet-sitter had bounced into her brain out of the blue, just because I was there.
I wished I could believe anything that witch did. But when it came right down to it, I was committed to caring for her cats.
And why did all my concerns really matter, when the good thing was that the witch herself wouldn’t be anywhere near her kitty coven?
“What do you think, Lexie?” I stopped the Beamer on the winding street where our home resided and pushed the button to unfurl our unfriendly wrought-iron security gate.
Unfriendly, that is, to people we didn’t want inside. With Jeff’s assistance, I’d enhanced our security system substantially after the murder in the main house some months ago. And fortunately, the Preesingers weren’t the partying kind like my original tenants—who’d been accused of that very murder.
Lexie didn’t respond to my obscure inquiry, but instead edged over till her front paws rested on the leg I needed available to control the brake and gas pedal. I pushed her gently away.
“No opinion whether I should ask Rachel to handle Amanda’s nasty cats?” I pulled the Beamer into the driveway and halted in its habitual parking place outside the garage. Due to my reversals in fortune awhile back, after I was accused of an awful ethics violation, I’d been forced to resign from the major law firm where I’d been a well-paid junior partner. As a result, I’d had to file for bankruptcy, since I suddenly was living way beyond my means instead of simply abutting their envelope. I’d only been able to retain fee title to the fantastic, huge home I’d fallen in love with by renting it out to pay its mortgage.
The whole matter had been mortifying, but I
’d managed to muddle through it. I now had my law license back and was a junior partner at the Yurick firm, which was much more laid-back and gave me lots of latitude about which cases I handled. My boss and senior partner Borden Yurick had made it clear I could continue my enjoyable pet-sitting avocation if I wished. His only stipulation was that I’d need to assist on some cases he brought in. Since most involved interesting issues, I had been pleased to accept his offer.
Of course, our way of practicing law also meant money didn’t pour into my pockets as it once did. Ergo, I still had to rent out that big, beloved house. Lexie and I resided in a small but comfy flat over the garage. Our tenants leased the right to park inside. Hence, my Beamer’s special spot outside.
“We’re here,” I informed Lexie unnecessarily. She was ricocheting from one car window to another, eager to visit her digs. “But you never answered my question. Do you think I should take care of Amanda’s cats myself? I mean, I have insurance now, in case they injure Rachel. Of course I’d warn her about how they acted toward you. They didn’t actually attack me except when I held you, and Rachel’s a really nice person, so they’re unlikely to dislike her at first sight. I’d pay extra, and—”
That was when Beggar, the beautiful Irish setter belonging to Russ and Rachel, bounded out of the big house toward us. The security gate had closed once the Beamer was beyond it, so I had no worries about Beggar’s safety. Lexie’s, either, although the Beamer might be in peril of acquiring claw marks on both sides if the pups attempted to dig their ways through to one another.
“Okay, forget it,” I told Lexie. “Go have some fun.” I opened the car door and she leapt out. In moments, she and Beggar were romping enthusiastically around the side yard.
The setter’s presence meant Rachel was home. Russ, a Hollywood location scout, was off on one of his many missions to find the finest settings—this time, for an upcoming adventure starring one of the industry’s biggest box-office draws.
Meow is for Murder Page 2
