Literally Murder (A Black Cat Bookshop Mystery)

by Ali Brandon

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” was Darla’s wry response. The bikini protesters had already filled her quota of naked—or, at least, mostly naked—people so far that day. A whole exhibition hall of them, even imaginary, might permanently scar her eyeballs.

  She headed to Hamlet’s pen, scanning first for any wayward books the wily feline might have tossed about. To her relief, all the volumes were neatly in place, so she snapped on his lead and handed it over to Jake. “Remember, keep the loop over your wrist all the time.”

  “Hey, kid, I’m a pro. I’ve got it.”

  “Now, Darla, go ahead and stand over there by Shelley,” Mildred said, making little shooing gestures toward the crowd. “Jake, you and Hamlet come with me. There’s a door right here that leads to a little hallway behind the back wall. I’ll show you a ramp you can walk up that will take you right to the stage behind the curtain. We want Hamlet to make a dramatic entrance, don’t we?”

  Darla watched as the two women and Hamlet slipped out the side door. Then, checking the lock on the pen a final time, she went over to Shelley.

  “Nervous?” the woman asked her with a smile. “No need to be, but if you get a little stage fright, just picture everyone out there naked. It works for me every time.”

  “Great idea,” Darla agreed, suppressing a smile.

  Giving Darla a reassuring pat on the arm, Shelley bounded up the short staircase at the side of the stage and whipped out the mike again. “Attention, everybody. We’re about to start.”

  When the crowd had settled down so that only a soft undercurrent of meowing could be heard, she began. “First, I hope that everyone is having a wonderful time so far!”

  When the obligatory applause died down, Shelley continued. “As you know, every year we have a guest of honor join us at the show. This year, we have a very special treat for you. Unless you’ve been living under a rock the past couple of months, you must have seen him. He’s an Internet sensation . . . Hamlet the Karate Kitty!”

  This time, the applause was punctuated by laughter and whistling, and Darla found herself grinning. Hamlet really had made a name for himself. Depending on how things went at the cat show, she might have to start a fan club for him, or at least set up his very own Facebook page.

  Shelley was gesturing for quiet. “Now, if you haven’t met Hamlet here at the show yet, we’ll be showing his famous video and bringing him out on stage in just a couple of minutes. But first, let’s hear from Hamlet’s owner. She’s the proprietor of Pettistone’s Fine Books in Brooklyn, New York. Please welcome Ms. Darla Pettistone.”

  Naked people, Darla reminded herself as she climbed the steps onto the stage and took the mike from Shelley. The crowd had grown to close to two hundred people . . . not a mob, but quite large enough for her usual stage fright to kick in. It didn’t help that she could see Billy Pope and Alicia Timpson standing to the front of the spectators. While apparently they had put aside their earlier argument—at least, for the sake of appearances—their presence reminded her of the recent unpleasantness marring what should have been a carefree couple of days playing celebrity.

  Then she caught sight of Nattie standing to one side. The old woman gave her a big grin and a thumbs-up, and that bit of support was enough to allow her to say, “Hi, I’m Darla Pettistone. Hamlet and I are thrilled to be here in Ft. Lauderdale with you for this fabulous show. Now, let me tell you a little about Hamlet before he became—what did Shelley call him?—an Internet sensation.”

  Swiftly, she related the story of Hamlet as James had first told it to her: how, as a tiny black kitten he’d shown up on the doorstep outside the bookstore and had made himself right at home when Great-Aunt Dee let him inside. And how, after he’d had a makeshift meal of milk and a bit of Dee’s tuna sandwich, he’d wandered over to the bookshelves and curled up on a fallen copy of one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, earning the name Hamlet. The story earned a few indulgent ahhs from the audience, so Darla mentioned some of his more memorable store antics—chasing customers, claiming the best reading chairs, even once stopping a shoplifter.

  “Thank you, Darla,” Shelley said as the applause for her short speech died down. “Now, let’s take a look at the video that brought Hamlet to everyone’s attention.”

  She escorted Darla to one side of the stage as the lights dimmed and then proceeded to press a few buttons on a video player Darla now noticed was hooked to the large screen television. A blast of music sounded, and Darla grinned. She recognized the opening notes to the 1980s hit song “Eye of the Tiger.” It was definitely appropriate.

  The video that followed was slicker and far more produced than anything she’d yet seen online. Someone skilled at videography had taken the original upload of Darla doing karate katas at a tournament with Hamlet imitating her in the background and turned it into a comical music video. Hamlet’s image had been pulled to the forefront, with Darla now but a background character as the cat leaped and feinted to the music.

  While the music blared, quick cuts of the “fighting” feline were interspersed with slo-mo, with Hamlet seemingly performing the more elaborate stunts common to martial arts movies. One moment, he was sparring with Darla, who’d been shrunk down to his size; the next, he was fighting a small army of Hamlets rushing him from every direction. He even did the invisible wire-flight routine, seeming to walk across towering treetops. Each new stunt brought more laughter from the spectators, who by the end of the video were all but screaming in hysteria.

  Darla was also impressed, and through her tears of laughter she spied Billy Pope in the front row wiping his own eyes with his handkerchief. Even the Martini Lady had cracked a grin, making her appear quite human for a change. When the video finally ended, the ovation lasted a good minute, with a smiling Darla vowing to get her hands on a copy.

  She shouted as much to Shelley over the sound of the applause.

  “Great, wasn’t it?” Shelley shouted back. “Alicia will get you a copy later.”

  Taking up the mike again, Shelley quieted the crowd. “That was fabulous, wasn’t it?” she asked, drawing another cheer. “Now that we’ve seen him on the silver screen, let’s meet him in person. Ladies and gentlemen, Hamlet the Karate Kitty!”

  Beaming, she swept an arm toward the curtains behind her, where Jake and Hamlet were to enter center stage. When they didn’t, Shelley raised the mike again, and said, “I guess Hamlet is a little shy about meeting his public. Hamlet, come on out!”

  The spectators had begun to murmur among themselves, while Darla watched the wall of curtains in some concern. If Hamlet had gotten stubborn about making an appearance, surely Jake would have popped out to let her know.

  Then the heavy blue drapes moved, and Darla smiled in relief. Showtime! Her smile promptly faded, however, when Jake staggered out onto the stage alone. As for the official karate cat, he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Jake,” Darla cried, rushing to her friend and grabbing her arm to support her. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where’s Hamlet?”

  “I’m fine,” Jake mumbled, clutching her head. “Don’t worry about me. Hamlet’s the one in trouble!”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded, reaching past her friend to flick aside the curtain to check on Hamlet. A glance was all she needed. Save for a couple of folding chairs, the space was empty.

  Voice trembling now, she went on, “What happened? Did he get loose?”

  Jake shook her head, wincing at the motion. “No, it’s worse than that. We were sitting back there waiting for the video to end, when someone hit me on the head from behind. I don’t think I was out for more than a couple of seconds, but when my head cleared, Hamlet was gone, leash and all.”

  “Gone! You mean—”

  Jake nodded, wincing again. “Yeah. I think he’s been kidnapped.”

  EIGHT

  “KIDNAPPED?” DARLA ECHOED IN DISBELIEF.

  Someh
ow, she couldn’t picture a cat of Hamlet’s size and disposition simply being snatched, not without leaving behind a trail of blood and fur. But she hadn’t heard any caterwauling over the blare of the video, and nothing behind the main stage area had appeared unusual . . . other than the fact that there had been no sign of the feline. Obviously, Jake wouldn’t make up a wild tale about being attacked just for the fun of it.

  Then, realizing she was about to lose her grip on Jake, Darla snapped, “Quick, Shelley, have someone grab a chair and bring it up here. We need some medical help right now!”

  Shelley, however, had already gauged the situation and was on her walkie-talkie. “Yes, the police and an ambulance,” she clarified to the person on the other end. “It wasn’t a fall. She says she was attacked.”

  Flipping off the walkie, she pointed at two burly young men near the stage, and said, “You, sir, and you—bring a chair up here right now.”

  By now, the crowd realized that what was happening on stage had nothing to do with the video and had begun to mill uncertainly about. Shelley grabbed the mike again.

  “Everyone, please remain calm. Everything is under control. Don’t worry—we’ll reschedule our official appearance by Hamlet for later. But if there’s a doctor here at the show, we need you at the stage at the rear of the exhibition hall. Everyone else, please stay clear of the area. And while we’re waiting for the judging to resume, why don’t you visit our vendor booths for all your cat needs.”

  While Shelley made her announcements, the two men she’d recruited had found a folding chair at the concession area and lifted it onto the stage. Darla gave them a grateful nod as she guided her friend over to it.

  “Quick, Jake, sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “I’m fine,” Jake mumbled, even as she sagged heavily into the chair. “It’s Hamlet I’m worried about. We need to lock the place down and find whoever took him.”

  “We’re doing that right now,” Billy Pope declared in his reedy voice. He’d made his way up the stage steps, accompanied by his daughter. “Alicia has already notified all the volunteers at the front doors that no one is to leave without all bags and boxes and carriers being searched.”

  “What about the back way?” Darla demanded, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Better to stay mad than dissolve into a weeping mess, she told herself. Crying about it isn’t going to help find Hamlet. Taking a steadying breath, she went on, “Mildred said there were a couple of doors leading out to the hall behind the stage. That’s how the kidnapper must have gotten back there.”

  “Perhaps, but there’s no place for them to go other than back out into the hall again,” Alicia said, her tone cool, though her expression betrayed her concern.

  Concern for the show’s reputation, not for Hamlet. Darla had seen a fleeting look of dismay on Alicia’s face when Shelley had mentioned that the police were on the way. All Darla wanted to do was rush backstage and try to track the kidnapper herself, but she didn’t dare leave Jake. And yet, for every minute she couldn’t search, Hamlet could be farther from the exhibit hall.

  Alicia went on, “I’m quite familiar with this building. The only exterior doors that are unlocked besides the front entry are the emergency exits. An alarm would have gone off if someone tried to flee through any of them. So it only follows that whoever has Hamlet must still be here inside the hall.”

  “Jacqueline, bambolina mia!”

  Nattie, carrying a chili cheese dog and an oversized soft drink cup, came rushing onto the stage. “I sneak off to get something to eat, just a little nourishment for an old woman, and I come back to find this?!”

  Shoving the drink and hot dog into a bemused Alicia’s hands, Nattie dropped to her knees beside her daughter. “Oh, I’ll never forgive myself bringing you here to die like this!” she wailed, reaching up to examine Jake’s skull.

  Jake gently batted away the old woman’s hands. “Ma, I’m fine. It’s just a little bump. See, not even any blood,” she said, displaying an un-bloodied palm for Nattie’s scrutiny.

  Meanwhile, the show veterinarian who’d earlier attended Cozy Kitty had rushed up on stage, medical bag in hand. Nattie straightened and gave him an outraged look. “What, an animal doctor is going to take care of my baby?”

  “I’m just here as a Good Samaritan,” the vet assured the old woman as he reached into his pocket for a penlight. “The EMTs will arrive in a minute.”

  Sidestepping Nattie, he shined a light into one of Jake’s eyes, and then the other, while remarking to no one in particular, “Actually, the first two years of veterinary training are virtually identical to what you get in med school.” Then, addressing Jake, he asked, “How are you feeling, ma’am?”

  “Like someone smacked me in the head.”

  The vet’s lips twitched, though whether in amusement or impatience, Darla couldn’t tell. “Yeah, I kind of figured that. The headache’s a given. I meant, any nausea . . . double vision . . . flashing sparks when you look around you?”

  “Maybe a little at first,” she admitted, “but it’s pretty much just a rotten headache now.”

  Her voice was stronger now, sounding like her old self, Darla thought in relief. Maybe it really wasn’t anything worse than a bump.

  “Oh dear, this is terrible!”

  The wavering voice came from Mildred, who had joined the growing crowd on the stage. Rushing over to Jake, she cried, “My dear girl, I never would have left you and Hamlet alone backstage if I’d had any inkling something might go wrong.” Her eyes watery behind her steel-rimmed glasses, Mildred turned to Nattie. “I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “Eh, it’s not yer fault, Millie,” the other woman said a bit brusquely, though she gave Mildred a reassuring pat on the arm. “We Martellis all have hard heads.”

  “Shelley, do you copy?” a tinny male voice abruptly squawked from Shelley’s walkie-talkie. “The cops and paramedics are here. I’m bringing them back to you now.”

  “Ten-four,” was Shelley’s reply. With an apologetic glance at Jake and Darla, she asked Alicia, “Not to be insensitive here, but if we delay much longer, the show will be running behind. Should I go ahead and have the ring clerks announce the next categories?”

  “Yes, let’s stay on schedule,” Alicia said. “If nothing else, it will keep the spectators and exhibitors occupied while we deal with the police. We don’t want to spoil everyone’s good time with . . . unpleasantness.”

  Darla shot Shelley, Alicia, and Billy an outraged look as the trio huddled in a hurried CYA session. She couldn’t help but wonder if Cindy had had a hand in this attack.

  Darla glanced toward the front of the hall. From her vantage point, she could see two police officers in short-sleeved, navy blue uniforms making their way toward the stage, a trio of EMTs with a gurney following after them. Swiftly, she leaned toward Jake.

  “If you think you’ll be all right with your mom, I’m going to take Mildred and have her show me that back hall,” she said in a low tone. “Maybe Hamlet’s still back there. I can’t see him letting someone carry him off that easily, so maybe he got away and is hiding.”

  “You’re right. Go look for him,” Jake urged. “We should have already been doing that. I hate to say this, but when it comes down to it, the cops will treat Hamlet’s disappearance as a property theft.”

  “Property theft!” Darla glared at the approaching officers, unable to believe Hamlet’s catnapping was on par with a stolen bicycle.

  “Sorry, kid. That’s the law. And it’s not like they have the authority to search the crowd. They’re lucky that Alicia’s volunteers are doing the dirty work for them. If someone stuffed him in a cat carrier and tries to haul him out of here, the polo shirt squad will stop them.”

  “But what about you? You were attacked. Won’t they investigate that?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be aggravated
battery. Throw Hamlet into the mix, and if you’ve got some real gung-ho cops, they might stretch it as far as armed robbery. But unless a witness to the whole thing comes forward, or someone in the crowd caught something on video, it’s going to be on us to find Hamlet.”

  “Then I’d better get moving.”

  Darla turned to leave, only to have Jake grab her arm. “Before you run off, I have to tell you how sorry I am about this. I—I let you and Hamlet down.”

  “You didn’t let us down. It’s no one’s fault, except the jerk who hurt you and took Hamlet.”

  Jake released her arm, though Darla could see she looked unconvinced. Not that Darla blamed her. In Jake’s place, she would have felt the same way. Turning to Mildred, Darla said, “Quick, I need you to show me the back hallway and all the exits.”

  The older woman’s gaze hardened behind her glasses, and she nodded. “Come with me.”

  The hallway held no surprises. Strictly utilitarian, the passage ran the length of the rear of the convention center, allowing facilities and set-up personnel access without their having to wander the main exhibition area. Darla could see at a glance that Hamlet wasn’t lurking anywhere along its length.

  “This is the way Jake and Hamlet got backstage,” Mildred explained, and pointed to a black-curtained entry at the top of an open ramp that ran parallel to the backstage wall.

  The actual door, Darla saw, opened inward to the hall and had been propped in place, with the ramp and curtain obviously temporary add-ons. For now, the door served as a handy backstage access. When the ramp and curtain were removed, however, and the stage taken down, the entry would simply be a tall doorway between hallway and exhibition area.

  Darla bent down to look beneath the ramp, using her cell phone as a makeshift flashlight.

  “Hamlet, are you under there?” she called, praying she’d see a glint of eyes to indicate he was crouched in the shadows there. Unfortunately, all she spied were a couple of discarded bottles and what appeared to be candy bar wrappers.