by Ali Brandon
“Nothing,” she told Mildred, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. It would have been too much to expect that it would that easy to find the missing cat. Still . . .
Straightening, she gave the corridor a closer look. Halfway down was a roll-up door that Darla assumed led to a loading dock. Hurrying to examine it, she saw that both it and the main door beside it were padlocked shut. Even if someone had had the keys to open them, no way could they have relocked them.
That left the emergency exit doors, one at either end of the hall. Both displayed the required signage overhead, and both opened with red crash bars that had alarm warnings stenciled on them. Alicia was right, Darla reluctantly conceded. Had the catnapper actually left the building by way of the back hall, a siren would have blared in warning.
“I don’t suppose there’s much else to check out back here,” she told Mildred. “We might as well go back out onto the floor and start looking. Let’s go that way”—she pointed to the ramp—“just in case there’s anything backstage that might be a clue.”
She hurried up the ramp, Mildred trudging behind, and slipped behind the black curtain onto the platform. The backstage area was nothing more than perhaps a quarter of the full stage separated by the wall of blue drapes that served as backdrop for the main stage area. The background sounds of the cat show were once more loud and clear, though Darla could also hear conversation coming from beyond the blue curtain, probably the police and EMTs still dealing with Jake and the others.
A quick look showed that the backstage area was bare save for a couple of folding chairs. Both were situated side by side right in front of her, facing forward. One of the pair, however, had been knocked askew. That must have been where Jake had been sitting when she was hit from behind, Darla reasoned. And, given that Jake had been sitting down when she’d been attacked from behind, that left the police with a large pool of potential assailant-slash-catnappers. Had Jake been standing, it would have narrowed the field considerably. They’d need to look for someone tall enough to have dealt a significant blow to a six-foot-tall victim. Instead, practically anyone at the show was a potential suspect.
“Oh, look,” Mildred exclaimed, bending near the blue curtains and reaching for something. “Do you suppose this is the weapon the catnapper used on poor Jake?”
“Mildred, don’t touch anything!”
Darla’s cry was a heartbeat too late, however, for the old woman had already picked up a glass bottle half-hidden by the curtain folds and was examining it.
“Quick, put it back down,” she urged. “If that bottle is the weapon, then you’ve just tampered with evidence.”
“Oh dear!”
The woman hurriedly set down the bottle again and took a step back, hands over her heart as she stared in sudden misery at the glass container. “I wasn’t thinking. Oh dear, I am so sorry.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Darla assured her, tamping down her impatience with the woman that, she knew, mostly stemmed from her fear for Hamlet’s well-being.
Then Darla frowned. If she wasn’t mistaken, the empty bottle that Mildred had found was the same brand of bottled water as the makeshift vase that Cindy had wielded at her mother the night before. Coincidence? Or was this a weapon of choice for the girl, which then pointed to Cindy as the most viable suspect?
“Come on, let’s go back out there and tell the police what we found.”
They made their entrance on stage to find Jake doing her best to convince the paramedics she was fine, while the two burly cops—one female and Hispanic, the other male and African American—were talking with Alicia and Billy. Shelley had apparently gone back out onto the floor. As a group, they looked up at Darla’s approach.
“Any luck finding Hamlet?” Jake asked hopefully, holding an ice bag to the back of her head.
Now that she knew Jake was relatively unharmed, Darla’s concern for Hamlet rose to the forefront. Striving for an even tone, she replied, “No. Alicia was right. There’s no way out except the emergency exits, and nothing to show he was ever back there. But Mildred might have found the weapon that was used on you. It was an empty glass bottle.”
Darla deliberately focused on Alicia as she said this last, waiting to see if the woman would have some reaction. But Alicia’s poker-faced mask was once again firmly in place.
“Ma’am,” the female officer spoke up, turning to Darla, “why don’t you show me this bottle.”
“Sure, it’s right behind the curtain, but Mildred accidentally picked it up before she realized it could be evidence.”
The two uniforms exchanged glances, and Darla could practically hear the unspoken epithet passing between them: “civilians.” Still, the cop—Garcia, according to the silver name badge pinned over her shirt pocket—retained her professionally noncommittal air as she said, “We’ll collect it anyhow and send it to the lab.”
Darla left the officers to poke around a few minutes longer while she returned to where Jake sat. To the obvious displeasure of the paramedics, the PI was handing back the ice pack while reaching for a clipboard one of the EMTs held.
“You’re not going to let them take you to the hospital.” It was a statement, not a question, since Darla already knew the answer.
Jake finished signing the release form they’d given her with a flourish. “I’m fine—just need to take it easy for a couple of days. Right, boys?”
The “boys” muttered under their breaths but gave her a copy of the paper; then, tossing bags and boxes onto their gurney, they began rolling toward the exit. As for the cops, they had returned with the bottle safely bagged for evidence. After getting Darla and Mildred’s version of what they knew regarding the assault and catnapping, the male cop—“Officer Cory Johnston,” Darla read off the business card he had handed her—flipped his notebook closed.
“Well, folks, you can see we don’t have much to go on here. Ms. Martelli didn’t see who hit her, and no one saw anyone walking off with the cat. And you’ve got a few hundred people here, and almost that many cats to sort through. The best we can do at this point is hope a witness comes forward, or that someone managed to get something on video,” he finished, practically repeating Jake’s earlier estimation of the situation word for word.
“What about the protesters outside? They seem to have a grudge against the show. And then there was that incident earlier, when someone poured ketchup on a cat and made it look like they’d butchered it. Oh, and someone’s cat escaped, too. Luckily Mildred caught it, but what if it had been let out on purpose?”
“Really, Ms. Pettistone,” Alicia coolly interjected while the two officers again exchanged looks. “I know you’re upset about your cat—we all are worried about Hamlet, of course—but I think you’re blowing these other incidents out of proportion. We often have protesters at our shows, and it’s not uncommon for cats to escape from inexperienced handlers. As for that ketchup incident—it was unpleasant, but no animal was actually harmed.”
The female officer penned a few final words and then looked up at Darla.
“Ms. Pettistone, we saw those college kids with the signs when we came in. Don’t worry, we’ll talk to them on the way out . . . throw a little scare into them, see if they’ll admit to anything. But, I’d be really surprised if one of those kids was the person who assaulted Ms. Martelli. That’s just not their usual modus operandi.”
Then the female cop gave Darla an encouraging smile. “Try not to worry about your cat, Ms. Pettistone. We have your cat’s description. We’ll notify Animal Control to keep an eye out in case he’s loose somewhere on the street. And if those protesters turn out to be the ones who took him, I can almost guarantee they’ll leave him somewhere for you to find before the end of the show today. Most of those kids who do the animal rights thing, their hearts are in the right place.”
Before Darla could mutter her first reflexive response, whic
h was what she’d do with certain thong-wearing protesters’ hearts if she found out they were the culprits, the male cop jumped back in.
“Oh, and I’m sure the show people will want to offer a reward for the cat’s safe return, as well as for information regarding Ms. Martelli’s assault,” he said with a glance at Billy and Alicia. “Money—that’s what usually does the trick in situations like this.”
“Of course,” Billy hurriedly agreed. “We all want Hamlet back as quickly as possible. Alicia, why don’t you have Shelley come see me, and I’ll arrange that right now.”
The officers took their leave, followed by Alicia, presumably in search of her announcer. Billy, meanwhile, turned his attention to Darla and Jake.
“Ladies, I can assure you that nothing like this has ever happened at one of our shows before. Believe me, we’ll do everything we can to make it right. Ms. Martelli, why don’t I have the hotel send one of their golf carts over here to carry you and your mother back to the Waterview so you can relax for a while?”
“That’s a great idea, Billy,” Nattie spoke up even as Jake opened her mouth to protest. “She needs a bit of rest right now.”
“Ma, I’m fine. Darla needs me here.”
“No, Jake, your mother’s right,” Darla replied. “It’s bad enough I have to worry about Hamlet. It’ll be worse if I have to worry about you, too. I’m going to search this place top to bottom for him, and then I’ll meet you back at the hotel after the show is over.”
Jake threw up one hand in surrender. “Fine, I’ll go,” she muttered, earning an approving pat on the arm from Nattie.
Billy headed off to procure the promised golf cart, and soon thereafter Jake and Nattie clambered on board. Billy waved the women off, then turned to Darla.
“We’ve established a one-thousand-dollar reward both for Hamlet’s safe return and information about the assault, no questions asked,” he told her. “Shelley has already made the announcement on our various social media sites. And, of course, our volunteers will be continuing to check bags and boxes as people leave the show, just in case.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Pope. But what about your granddaughter, Cindy?” was Darla’s blunt reply.
At her question, Billy’s expression of genial concern hardened.
“I can assure you, Ms. Pettistone, that my granddaughter has nothing to do with this unfortunate incident. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the judging. My people will keep you informed if we learn anything.”
He turned and headed back toward the judging ring, while Darla silently fumed. Maybe Nattie’s loyalty to the man was misplaced. The fact that Billy had an obvious blind spot when it came to his granddaughter likely meant he was weak in other areas, as well. Maybe he’d channeled the missing condo association money to Cindy.
“Well, that’s the rich for you.”
The surprisingly bitter sentiment came from Mildred, who was standing beside Darla. “They think because they have money, the rules don’t apply. And they don’t have much sympathy for all us ‘don’t haves,’” she said in a quavering voice.
Then, apparently realizing she’d spoken out of turn, Mildred waved a dismissive hand.
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just letting off a little steam,” she said, managing a smile. “Mr. Pope and Mrs. Timpson have been very generous patrons of the FSA. I don’t know what the organization would do without them.”
“Well, you’d think they’d be trying a bit harder to find Hamlet,” Darla countered, not quite as willing as Mildred to give the pair a pass. “Why haven’t they had Shelley make an announcement over the PA that Hamlet’s been taken?”
“Oh, my dear, you wouldn’t want to do that,” the old woman replied, her expression faintly horrified.
Gesturing to the crowd, she went on, “If Shelley started telling people that Hamlet was catnapped, the place would be in an uproar. The exhibitors would all be worried something could happen to their cats, too. And then you’d have all these Helpful Hannahs thinking every black cat at the show was Hamlet. No, believe me, dear, it’s much better for everyone—Hamlet included—if we’re a bit subtle about this.”
Subtle, my butt, was Darla’s reaction, though she grudgingly admitted that Mildred had a point. She could just imagine people rushing up to her with sundry black cats, all hoping to get the reward money.
“All right, Mildred,” she conceded. “We’ll keep it low-key. But before I do anything else, I’m going outside to talk to those protesters. The catnapper might have made it out the door before Alicia had time to put her volunteers on pat-down mode. Those kids might have seen something important.”
“Weren’t the police already going to question them?”
“Yeah, but did the cops bribe them this morning with donut holes? Maybe they’ll be more forthcoming with me.”
Darla’s timing proved fortunate, for the protest seemed to have broken up. Bangles and Farmer Tan Girl were off to one side of the walkway, fully dressed now and stuffing their signs into garbage bags. There was no sign of Cindy, but it was probably for the best. Maybe separated from her, the other girls would be willing to divulge what, if anything, they knew about Hamlet’s disappearance.
“Hey, girls, wait a minute,” Darla called, waving the pair down as the students shuffled off in the direction of the main sidewalk. “I really need to talk to you.”
Bangles looked back, and then poked her friend, drawing her attention to Darla. To her relief, the girls waited while she caught up to them.
“Hi,” Darla breathlessly greeted the pair as she caught up to them. “Remember me? I brought you the donut holes this morning.”
“Yeah, they were, like, awesomely good,” Farmer Tan Girl said with a smile. Pointing to her friend, she added, “Talina ate three of them.”
“Did not,” Talina muttered, though her grin gave away the lie.
Darla smiled back. “Believe me, I’d have eaten three myself if I hadn’t had breakfast already.” Then, sobering, she went on, “Girls, I’m in real trouble and need your help. Did the police ask you about the cat that’s been kidnapped?”
NINE
AT DARLA’S QUESTION, BOTH PROTESTERS IMMEDIATELY dropped their friendly air.
“We didn’t have nothing to do with that, right, Lilly?” Talina declared, her expression threatening.
Lilly gave Darla an equally thunderous glare. “Yeah, like we told the po-po, we don’t know nothing about it.”
The pair swung about and continued down the steps. Determined not to lose this opportunity, Darla trotted after them. “Look, girls, this is really important. I know you didn’t take the cat, but maybe you saw something . . . maybe even the person who did it. The cat that’s missing is mine, and I really want him back.”
She couldn’t help the slight catch in her voice as she said that last. The girls must have heard the quiver of emotion as well, for they paused and looked at each other. Darla persisted. “Maybe you’ve heard of him before. His name is Hamlet. He’s the Karate Kitty on YouTube.”
“OMG! Karate Kitty is your cat?” Lilly gave a little jump of excitement. “I’ve seen that video, like, a hundred times. The Star Wars version is my favorite.”
“No way, girl. The one with the Jay-Z song is the best,” Talina countered, giving the other girl a friendly little push. Then, turning to Darla, she said, “Say, you do kinda look like the lady in the video. So, he really is your cat?”
“He’s mine. He’s the official mascot of my bookstore. See?”
She reached into her tote bag and pulled out the “paw”-tograph fliers, handing one to each of them. “Look, I know the police already asked this, but did you maybe notice anyone leaving the building about”—she paused and consulted her watch—“say, about an hour ago, carrying a big black cat? He might’ve been in a carrier, or maybe in a backpack or gym bag. You might not have even seen hi
m, but he’d probably have been meowing. And he weighs a ton, so he’s not that easy to handle, even when he’s in a good mood.”
The two girls stared at the fliers and then each other before reluctantly shaking their heads. “No, I didn’t see him. Sorry,” Talina said, her expression now one of dismay.
Lilly added, “No, it was pretty slow an hour ago, so anyone who walked out, we would’ve seen. Sorry.”
Darla gave a disappointed sigh. It had been too much to hope that the catnapper had been spotted leaving the scene of the crime. On the bright side, however, that might mean he was still somewhere in the hall. She’d team up with Mildred again and check out every row of the exhibitor area in case Hamlet was locked in somewhere.
Making her farewells to the girls, who promised to call the cell phone number Darla scribbled on the fliers if they heard anything of interest on the protester grapevine, Darla headed back inside the hall. Mildred was waiting for her at the information table.
“I already checked all the restrooms and the storage area near the concessions, but no sign of Hamlet,” the old woman told her. “Were those young people outside any help at all?”
Darla shook her head. “They said they didn’t notice anyone, and I’m pretty sure it would be obvious if anyone was carting out a cat his size. I guess the next thing to do is search the exhibitor area.”
“Good idea, dear. How about you start here, and I start in the back, and we meet in the middle? That way, we can cover more area in a short period of time.”
“That would be perfect. Thanks so much for helping me out like this. Without Jake and Nattie, I’m kind of on my own here.”
Darla hastily blinked back the tears of frustrated worry she had been trying hard to suppress ever since she’d learned Hamlet was missing. She was already late checking in with James and Robert at the bookstore. If they didn’t find Hamlet by the time the show ended for the day, she’d have to let her manager know that their mascot was officially a crime victim.
