Kat Wolfe Takes the Case

by Lauren St. John

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked as Kat tugged her wordlessly behind a pillar in the crowded, but curiously hushed, lobby.

  All eyes were trained on the main entrance. The glass doors slid open and a woman glided in. Backlit against the sky and sea, she was momentarily visible only in silhouette, but Harper had no trouble identifying Alicia Swann, Oscar-nominated actress and one half of Hollywood’s most celebrated couple.

  Setting a leopard-print tote bag on the front desk, the actress swept off her sunglasses. ‘I have a reservation for a double room, although a suite would be better, if one’s available.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do, Mrs Swann,’ simpered the manager. ‘It’s my great pleasure to welcome you to the Grand Hotel Majestic.’

  But, as he scrolled down his screen, he didn’t look pleased. He looked perplexed, then panicked. Though he tapped busily at his keyboard, it was clear to the girls, who were standing nearest him, that the booking was either lost or had never been made. Kat suspected the latter.

  She was intrigued. Would the manager send one of the world’s best-loved actresses packing? Or would he conjure up a ‘ghost’ room, perhaps by booting out another guest?

  ‘Apologies for the delay, Mrs Swann. I’m having trouble locating your reservation.’

  She gave him a smile that could have refloated the Titanic. ‘Take your time, Mr Karlsson.’

  ‘Call me Viktor!’

  ‘Thanks, Viktor. I’ll play with Xena while I wait.’

  On hearing her name, a fluffy red teddy bear of a dog popped out of Alicia’s tote bag. The manager reeled back in horror.

  ‘Wait till he tells her they don’t take pets,’ an onlooker stage-whispered, earning a death glare from Viktor Karlsson.

  Alicia turned on the manager. ‘You don’t take miniature Pomeranians?’

  ‘Ma’am, we have nothing against Pomeranians per se,’ he said unhappily. ‘It’s a matter of hotel policy. Health and safety, and all that. If it were up to me . . .’

  She laughed. ‘But it is up to you, Viktor! Besides, my husband and I are only here for a week or so, and my warrior princess will be spending most of her time in doggy day care. It’ll be as if she doesn’t exist. You do have doggy day care here in Bluebell Bay, don’t you, Viktor?’

  The blonde reporter stepped forward. ‘Rosalyn Winter, Fast News. Delighted to meet you, Mrs Swann. I’m pleased to say that there is a first-class doggy day care service here in town.’ Like a gambler unveiling an ace, she presented the actress with Kat’s Paws and Claws agency card.

  Harper gave Kat a shove, and the manager’s desperate gaze fell on the girl he’d coldly dismissed not ten minutes earlier.

  ‘First-class doggy day care,’ he agreed. ‘And, by chance, the proprietor is right here. This is, uh, uh . . .’

  ‘Kat Wolfe,’ finished Harper. ‘The best pet-minder in Bluebell Bay!’

  ‘Kat Wolfe? How charming,’ murmured the actress, scrutinizing Kat. Up close, her fragrant dark hair and high, honeyed cheekbones were even more exquisite. ‘Aren’t you a little young to be pet-minding?’

  ‘Experience is more important than age,’ Harper assured her. ‘Kat uses the Trust technique. Check out her website. I designed it, and it’s packed with glowing references. Kat’s mum, Dr Wolfe, is the town veterinary surgeon. Her credentials are impeccable. Kat’s, that is.’

  Alicia Swann was amused. ‘Are you Kat’s manager?’

  Harper grinned. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘OK, I’ll do it,’ Kat said. The Pomeranian was in her arms, washing her face.

  The actress cried out in surprise. ‘How did you do that? Xena always snarls and snaps at strangers. Draws blood frequently too.’

  ‘Kat speaks Dog,’ Harper informed her. ‘And Cat, Horse, Hedgehog and Parrot. She’s multilingual when it comes to animals. She leaves the Latin, French, Spanish and Mandarin Chinese to me.’

  The glass doors parted and a couple came in wheeling suitcases. They had the relaxed air of people with a confirmed booking. Viktor Karlsson locked gazes with the concierge, who raced to head them off. Catching the look, Kat predicted – correctly – that they would be informed there’d been a flood or a fire in their room, and then dispatched to some far-flung bed and breakfast.

  ‘Thank you, Viktor,’ purred Alicia Swann as he handed her a key for the Ocean View Suite. ‘I had a feeling this would work out beautifully.’

  He grimaced. ‘My pleasure, ma’am. Now about the dog. We can’t allow—’

  She laid a manicured hand on his arm. ‘Viktor, I almost forgot. Ethan, my husband, will be needing livery.’

  ‘Livery, ma’am?’

  ‘Stabling. You know – for his horse.’ As the manager gaped, she turned to the Fast News reporter. ‘Thanks for your assistance, Rosalyn. If I can repay it with an interview—’

  A high-pitched whinny sounded outside, followed by a scream, a crunch of metal and the unmistakable clatter of hooves. The glass doors of the lobby slid open again. One of Hollywood’s best-known action stars came bounding up the steps, leading a black horse, which seemed to have pranced off the silver screen and into fiery life.

  As the mare moved, her satin coat danced with blue light and her crinkled mane flowed like silk from her high, proud head.

  Ethan Swann grinned at the startled faces, before saluting his wife. ‘Sorry, darling. Traffic was hell. Any luck finding livery?’

  The actress turned to the manager, but Viktor, who was petrified of horses, was hiding under the counter.

  Harper said hurriedly, ‘Mrs Swann, there’s no livery in Bluebell Bay, but there is a spare stable at Paradise House, where I live. Your horse would be welcome to use it for a week or two. I’d need to check with my dad – he’s the palaeontologist who discovered the Jurassic Dragon – but I don’t think he’ll mind.’

  ‘If you need a groom or someone to exercise your horse, I’d be happy to help with that too,’ volunteered Kat.

  ‘Kat’s the best horse whisperer in town!’ added Harper, in case there was any doubt.

  Alicia Swann laughed. ‘But of course she is, and I’m sure the horse will enjoy her vacation at your “Paradise” stable too. Well, then, consider yourselves hired.’

  ‘I have good news and bad news,’ said Dr Wolfe. ‘Which would you like first?’

  Kat was on the kennel floor playing with Pax, who’d recovered enough to hop around joyfully when her rescuer walked in. Seeing the collie she’d saved looking so bright-eyed and alive was all the reward she needed for risking her neck on the cliffs.

  Kat had come straight to the animal clinic from Paradise House. The heavenly scent of horse still clung to her T-shirt. She liked it. It reassured her that the past couple of hours had really happened. She’d been asked to take care of a film star’s horse. That was remarkable in itself, and had Ethan Swann asked her to groom and exercise an old nag, she’d have been ecstatic. Instead, she’d been entrusted with the care of a mare of near-mythical beauty – a Friesian on loan from Animal Actors, a company that hired out trained creatures of all varieties for use in films.

  Friesians were a Dutch breed of horse, and the mare’s name, Orkaan, meant ‘hurricane’. Kat assumed it was a reference to her storm-black coat, because there was nothing remotely tempestuous about her. When a frenzied crowd had gathered outside the Majestic to beg for selfies with Ethan and his horse, Orkaan had stayed cool and collected throughout.

  She’d also been loaded without fuss into the horsebox that had brought her to Bluebell Bay. The actor had been joking when he claimed to have ridden her through the traffic. His Wild West entrance had been exactly that.

  Harper had been over the moon at the prospect of Alicia Swann popping in for tea at Paradise House whenever Ethan took his horse for a canter. And Kat had been equally excited about introducing the actor, who’d played a racehorse trainer in his last film, to Charming Outlaw. Sadly, Orkaan and the girls had been accompanied to her holiday lodgings only by Roy, the driver from Animal Actor
s.

  ‘But don’t you want to check out the stable to make sure it’s suitable for her?’ Kat had asked Ethan, unable to hide her surprise. In Fire Racer, his character would never have dreamed of sending his horse to stay with a stranger without first inspecting the stall.

  The actor looked astonished at the suggestion. ‘Have a heart, girl! My wife and I have been travelling for eighteen hours straight from LA via London. We’re dizzy with jet lag. We’re here for a rest. If we don’t get some beauty sleep, we’ll be fired from our next picture when we get back to Hollywood! Roy will see to my horse. I’ll check on Orca tomorrow when I take her out for a ride.’

  ‘Orkaan,’ Roy reminded him.

  ‘Right. I’ll message when I’m on my way over – Kat, is it? Kat, it would be great if you could have the horse saddled and ready to roll at around 10 a.m. Thanks for helping out. Keep a tab of what we owe you and we’ll settle up when we leave.’ His smile sparkled. ‘No hidden charges, now. We’re not made of money!’

  He was borne away on a tide of autograph hunters, leaving Harper to direct Roy to her home. Professor Lamb, who was busy with the dracoraptor, had given his approval. All that remained was for Charming Outlaw to give his.

  Paradise House was a redbrick cottage with roses around the door. Roy parked the horsebox at the orchard gate. While Harper went to ask Nettie for some cake and sandwiches to offer Roy, Kat led the black mare through the cherry trees to the stable yard.

  Charming Outlaw came tearing up to the field gate at a racehorse gallop. He skidded to a halt with a piercing whinny. Thanks to Kat’s influence, his manners had improved considerably, but he’d always be exuberant. Kat liked him that way. Beneath his naughty exterior, the chestnut was one of the sweetest-natured horses she’d ever met.

  Orkaan was a film star in her own right, so Kat was careful to keep plenty of distance between her and Outlaw when she introduced them. Despite a few squeals from the chestnut and indignant snorts from the mare, she was sure they’d get along fine. Roy helped her make up the spare stable for Orkaan with a bed of shavings, fresh water and an evening feed. He was a man of few words, but seemed satisfied that the Animal Actors’ mare would be in safe hands.

  Accompanying him to back to the lorry, Kat plucked up the courage to say, ‘I’m a big fan of Ethan’s film, Fire Racer. Have you ever seen him ride? Is he brilliant?’

  Roy laughed. ‘Real life’s not like the pictures, girl. They’re a funny bunch, actors. Don’t go confusing them with their characters. Some are better; some are worse. One thing’s for sure, they’re not the same.’

  Roy’s remarks came back to Kat as she put clean bedding and water bowls in the kennels that evening. Was Ethan better or worse than his character in Fire Racer? She’d soon find out.

  Kat had been hanging around veterinary surgeries since she was a toddler and there were few things she enjoyed more than watching her mum work and helping out where she could. This evening, she was preparing kennels for two new patients, and dispensing food and affection to the others.

  ‘If an animal has been through a traumatic experience or is recuperating from a major operation, a kind word and just knowing that someone is rooting for them can do wonders for their recovery,’ her mum often told her. ‘It’s not only humans who need to know they’re loved.’ Job done, Kat went to sit with Pax. Her mum, who was short, blonde and smiley, was moving from kennel to kennel, checking temperatures and dressings and administering antibiotics. It was while she was changing the collie’s bandage that she said, ‘I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?’

  Still elated after meeting the Swanns and their dream horse, Kat opted for the bad news.

  ‘As you know, we’ve been struggling to reach Pax’s owner,’ said her mum. ‘Today we learned that he died recently, leaving Pax in the care of his daughter, an oil executive. She’s claiming the collie ran away, but I suspect that poor Pax was dumped on the roadside, or even thrown from a car. The daughter is refusing to pay a penny of Pax’s veterinary bill and wants her rehomed. She says she’s allergic to dogs.’

  ‘That’s awful!’ cried Kat, while secretly considering this the best possible news. Not the part about the rich daughter having a heart of stone and refusing to pay her bill, but the bit about Pax needing a new home. In Kat’s mind, that brought Pax one paw closer to moving into number 5 Summer Street.

  ‘Yes, it is, but I’m confident we’ll find her a new family,’ said her mum. ‘Meanwhile, try not to get too attached to her, darling. You know we can’t adopt a dog. Not with a half-wild Savannah cat in the house.’

  ‘You said something about good news,’ Kat reminded her, eager to change the subject.

  ‘Ah, yes. All eight of our dog kennels are full, and I’d like to free one up in case of emergencies. Since Pax is on the mend, I thought you might enjoy having her stay in your attic room for a few days.’

  ‘My room?’ Kat couldn’t see how this was good news. ‘Not the kitchen or the living room?’

  ‘No, it has to be your room. Too much coming and going in the others. It’ll take Pax a while to recover from her ordeal. If she panics, she could run onto the street and get hurt. Locked in your attic, she’ll be safe and able to do some exercise, but not too much.’

  ‘But what about Tiny? He’ll have a fit.’

  ‘Then you’ll need to have a word with him.’ Dr Wolfe’s mind was already on her evening surgery. ‘I have complete faith in you, Kat. You’re the best cat whisperer I know.’

  Ordinarily, Kat considered her mum’s compliments on her animal-handling skills to be the ultimate praise, but these were not ordinary times. By the following morning, she’d have done anything to be able to hand the World’s Best Cat Whisperer baton over to someone braver, smarter or more fluent in Feline.

  As feared, the cat/collie experiment had been an unmitigated disaster. Kat had done as her mum suggested and ‘had a word’ with Tiny. She’d reminded him that, not so long ago, he too had been unwanted, and that now he was worshipped and pampered to within an inch of his life, it wouldn’t hurt him to extend a paw of friendship to a homeless and suffering fellow creature.

  Sadly, the only paw Tiny extended had needle-sharp claws on the end of it. After a nightmarish chase and wrestling match, he’d flown out of the high window, leaving Kat and Pax bleeding and enough fur on the floor to stuff a mattress.

  As luck would have it, Dr Wolfe and Nurse Tina had spent the entire evening at the clinic doing an emergency operation, which meant that Kat didn’t have to confess to being a failed Tiny whisperer. Nursing stinging scratches, she’d eaten an almond butter sandwich in her room and comforted Pax, who was bewildered and whimpering. The collie couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. She’d only tried to be friendly.

  By bedtime, Tiny still wasn’t home. Though Kat had gone into the garden in her pyjamas and called and called, there’d been no answering meow. She’d lain awake for hours, fretting. From the moment she and Tiny had bonded in the spring, three months earlier, he’d never spent a night apart from her.

  She’d prayed that Tiny would be curled up in the crook of her legs when she awoke. Instead, Pax was in his place and was very happy about it. The collie belly-crawled the length of the duvet and snuggled under her arm, tail thumping.

  ‘You’re adorable and I wish we could give you a forever home,’ Kat told her. ‘But, first, you’ll need to convince Tiny it’s a good idea. He’s as scared as you are, I promise. If you can do that, I’ll go to work on Mum.’

  After feeding Pax and changing the dressing on her paw, Kat went in search of the Savannah cat. He wasn’t in the garden, so she crossed the street to the animal clinic. There was a wooded area behind the kennels where he liked to stalk butterflies.

  As she approached, a black-haired man bounded up the steps of the veterinary surgery and leaned on the bell as if an animal’s life depended on it.

  ‘The clinic doesn’t open till nine,’ said Kat. ‘I can call Dr Wolfe if
you have an emergency.’

  He came over in muddy hiking boots. ‘Thanks, miss, but it’s not the vet I want. It’s the pet-sitter, Kat Wolfe. I was told I could find her here.’

  ‘You can! You have! I’m Kat.’

  His chiselled face, creased with anxiety, smoothed in an instant. ‘Pleased to meet you, Kat. My name’s Rossi – Mario Rossi. I’ve come to Bluebell Bay from Rome to do a coasteering course. I’m going to be out every day exploring sea caves, rock-hopping and cliff-jumping. I’m worried about my pet, Simon, being left on his own. Any chance you can take care of him for a week or so? Maybe longer – maybe shorter. I’ll pay you up front for a fortnight.’

  He took a fistful of cash from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Will this be enough?’

  Before Kat could answer, he added another twenty pounds and pressed it into her hand.

  ‘Thanks, but this is way too much.’ Kat tried to give it back, but Mario wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘If you keep Mr Bojangles happy, it’ll be worth it.’

  ‘I thought his name was Simon.’

  ‘Simon? No, it’s Mr Bojangles. Like the song.’ ‘What song?’

  He smiled. ‘A song from my youth. Now, you’ll need to drop in on Mr B for at least half an hour a day. Play with him or take him for a short walk. He loves a change of scene. It’s when he gets bored that things go wrong. Keep him away from anything small and furry. I’ll leave feeding instructions. It’s quite straightforward. After the last incident, I decided to go with frozen food. Safer all round.’

  He handed her a key card with a tiger on it and jotted his contact details on the back of a train ticket. ‘Thanks, Kat. You’re a lifesaver. I hope the two of you get along. A lot of people misunderstand Mr B, but always remember he has a good heart.’

  ‘That’s what I say about my cat, Tiny,’ Kat told him. ‘I’m not sure anyone believes me.’