by Marie Celine
‘Well, not confessed exactly,’ said Jack, biting at the edge of his lower lip. ‘But he’s not exactly protesting his innocence either.’ Jack pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure Teddy has it altogether, if you know what I mean. And the DA is sparring with Czinski’s lawyer. Maybe they’re planning on going the crazy route.’
Kitty struggled with the news. ‘You mean Steve …’
Jack nodded once again. ‘Couldn’t have murdered Gretchen.’
‘I was so sure,’ Kitty said, sounding deflated. ‘Are you certain Teddy’s the killer?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Elin is. And trust me, this murder has got Teddy’s name all over it. His prints are all over the office.’
‘He worked there,’ interjected Kitty. ‘He was the maintenance man. He cleaned the whole studio. Including Gretchen’s office.’
‘His prints were on his mother’s locket. Was he cleaning that?’
Kitty pulled a face. Poor Teddy, she thought, though she’d never met him. And poor Chevy Czinski. ‘He must be devastated.’
‘Teddy?’ Jack asked.
Kitty shook her head. ‘No, I was thinking of Teddy’s father, Chevy Czinski. He’s one of my clients, you know.’
‘So you told me.’
All through the meal, Kitty couldn’t keep her mind off of Gretchen’s murder and the events of the day. She often marveled at the way Jack could separate his work from his personal life. Then again, she supposed it was a survival mechanism. It was tough being a cop and dealing with criminals day in and day out. Always seeing the worst in people. Suspecting the worst. Expecting them to lie at every turn.
Kitty refused to be that sort of person. She didn’t think she could be that sort of person even if she tried. That wasn’t the way she was put together.
For instance, she didn’t believe for a minute that Fran could have been involved in Gretchen’s murder no matter what Steve might suggest. The very thought was preposterous. So what if Fran had no alibi and was practically alone backstage? Fran could never have murdered Gretchen. The two had been friends. Friends didn’t kill friends, did they? Then again, children sometimes did kill parents. Kitty caught Jack staring at her. ‘What?’
Jack’s annoyance bubbled up. ‘I asked how you enjoyed your meal.’ He rested his elbows on the table. ‘You’re thinking about the case again, aren’t you?’
‘Sorry.’ Kitty studied her plate. ‘I can’t help it.’ Besides, she was personally involved in this case. Gretchen Corbett had hired her one minute and then, practically the next minute, someone murdered the poor woman using one of Kitty’s knives. She couldn’t simply turn a switch and shut off her thoughts the way Jack seemed to at the end of the day.
‘Finished?’ Jack eyed Kitty’s clean plate. She nodded. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he suggested.
The ride back to Jack’s place was cold. And it wasn’t just the temperature. ‘Sorry,’ Kitty apologized. ‘I guess I’m not feeling very romantic tonight.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?’ He playfully lifted the edge of her dress. ‘That’s a nasty looking bruise you’ve got there.’
Kitty looked at the ugly purple stain on her thigh and frowned. ‘I got it when Fran slammed me into a wall this afternoon. I can’t complain though. If she hadn’t, I’d have been flattened.’ She held up her scraped elbows.
Jack whistled. ‘That was some hit you took.’
She couldn’t help wondering now if Jack was right. Maybe it had only been an accident. Maybe Steve hadn’t been paying attention, was texting and driving, and hadn’t meant to run her down at all. It sure seemed that way now that it looked like Teddy had stabbed his mom.
‘Sorry,’ Kitty answered, apologizing for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. ‘But I’ve got pets to feed in the morning. Then there’s Gretchen’s funeral service. Would you like to come with me?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I’d love to, but I’m working. I’ll be attending the funeral with Elin and Teddy.’
‘Teddy?’
‘Yep, we’re holding him but it is his mother’s funeral. He asked to go.’
‘Weird,’ replied Kitty. ‘I mean, he murders her one day, then wants to attend her funeral the next. Don’t you find that odd?’
‘I find a lot of things odd in my line of work.’ He held the Volvo door open.
She climbed behind the wheel and gave him a light kiss on the lips through the open window as she turned the key in the ignition. The starter made a clicking sound and nothing more. Kitty turned the switch off then on again. ‘Rats,’ she said. ‘Now what?’
‘Step aside,’ said Jack. ‘Let me try.’ He got behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. The Volvo made clicking sounds, but the engine refused to turn over. ‘Must be the battery.’ Jack extracted himself from the Volvo.
‘It seems like it’s one thing after another with this car.’ She explained about the broken handle and the busted window.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack said, ‘you’ll be able to buy a brand-new car if this TV show works out. Heck, you’ll probably be able to buy two new cars.’
Kitty wasn’t sure she wanted to replace her old, dependable Volvo and said so. ‘It’s like a member of the family,’ she explained. ‘It functions well for my deliveries.’
‘Deliveries? The pet chef thing?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re not going to have to keep getting up before dawn to cook for all those pampered pooches once this show of yours takes off, Kitty. You’ll be able to quit your day job. Heck, you’ll be able to pay some chef to come cook for Barney and Fred if you like.’ Jack laughed.
Kitty fell silent.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. I guess I just hadn’t thought that far ahead.’ Kitty wondered whether she really wanted to do that – quit her day job. After all, she liked her work and the animals depended on her. ‘Guess I’ve got some thinking to do.’
‘Listen, it’s late,’ Jack said, pulling a set of keys from his trousers, ‘we don’t have to make all of life’s big decisions tonight.’ He held out the keys. ‘Why don’t you take the Jeep tonight? I’ll charge up the battery overnight – I’ve got a charger out in the garage somewhere – and we can exchange vehicles tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kitty knew how much he loved his precious red Jeep. He’d never even let her sit behind the wheel before, let alone drive it, even if he was in the passenger seat. Kitty took the keys from his hand before he changed his mind.
‘Sure, I’m sure.’ He patted the Jeep’s hood. ‘We can swap cars at Forest Lawn.’ That was the cemetery where Gretchen was being laid to rest.
After a lingering kiss, Kitty headed out. Feeling worn out and beaten up, all she wanted to do was sleep. It was a beautiful Los Angeles night with the stars twinkling above, as if someone had draped a blanket of stars over the world. There was a near full moon too. Kitty skipped the freeway, deciding to take the scenic route through the Hollywood Hills. The drive would be longer, but it would do her good. If she dropped into bed now, she was afraid she’d never fall asleep. So many thoughts about this murder case were running through her head. Though, from what Jack said, it appeared this murder mystery was all but wrapped up.
No thanks to her.
Her knuckles tightened over the wheel. The cool breeze swept her hair through the open windows. While the Wrangler was nowhere near as smooth driving as her Volvo, she was enjoying the masculinity of the machine. She drove deeper into the hills, wishing she’d asked Jack to remove the convertible top.
The Mulholland Scenic Parkway offered a breathtaking view of the city. It was all Kitty could do to keep her eyes on the road as she soaked in the beauty of the sparkling city below. Mulholland was lightly traveled at the moment, and for several minutes she seemed to be the only driver on the road until some nut shot passed her on a blind curve coming from the opposite direction. Kitty shook her head. A move like that could get a body killed.
Coming around a sharp right-han
d bend and into a straightaway, she spotted some headlights coming up fast in the rearview mirror. She eased up on the gas to let them pass, thinking they’d be crazy to try on this serpentine and narrow stretch but it was better to let them go by than to stick to her bumper.
The headlights kept coming, bigger, brighter. The driver had closed in and flashed on the high beams. It was a tall vehicle, an SUV of some sort, and the glare of its lights was making Kitty’s eyes water. She cocked the rearview mirror downward and felt a bump. Now what?
An oncoming van whizzed past and Kitty felt a second, harder bump. Her heart leapt to her throat. The wheel jumped out of her hand and she fought to hold her position on the road. ‘What is that idiot doing?’ she muttered. ‘Trying to get us killed?’
She strangled the wheel of the Wrangler as she took the next bend. The SUV slammed into the rear bumper again sending a jolt that shook the Wrangler like a mini-earthquake and rattled Kitty’s teeth. The Wrangler was veering out of control. Kitty swallowed hard. There had to be some way out of this predicament. To her left was a sheer drop, to her right, a solid wall of rock. Two lousy options.
Before she could come up with a plan of action to save her skin, the SUV rammed her again, catching the right corner of the bumper. The Wrangler had lost its grip and was spinning sideways now. In a moment, car and driver would be sliding over the edge. And falling.
And there was nothing Kitty could do to stop it.
TWENTY-ONE
Kitty huddled in the soft blue cotton blanket that Jack had wrapped around her aching shoulders, clutching a paper cup of hot cocoa in her right hand. Except for the sweet scent of her drink, the overly lit room smelled like a hospital.
But then, that’s where she was, sitting alone but for Jack in a small room off the main ER at the North Hollywood Hospital, where the ambulance had raced her an hour ago after being summoned by a passing motorist who’d noticed the wreck. Sirens blaring, Kitty had been hauled down the mountain and into the valley where, still strapped to the gurney, they’d hustled her inside.
She had insisted to the paramedics that she was all right, except for some cuts and scrapes, but they had been even more insistent that she be taken to the hospital and checked out by a doctor. She’d been poked, prodded and scanned and, though she felt violated, she felt even more embarrassed by some of the rather personal places the doctor and nurses had seen.
Kitty had suffered multiple contusions, but no serious or permanent damage. Jack’s Jeep, she feared, had probably not been so lucky. She imagined some poor guy with a tow truck was probably out there right now trying to haul up the wreckage. The Jeep had gone over the precipice to what Kitty had been expecting to be a quick descent followed by a fiery explosion – the kind you see on TV. Instead, the Jeep and Kitty had been tangled up in some trees on the mountainside.
Kitty shivered. Thank goodness for Mother Nature. If those trees hadn’t been there …
When the nurses had asked her whom she wanted notified, Kitty thought immediately of Jack. No way was she going to bother her parents. They’d freak big time. Her mother and father would insist on driving all the way up from Huntington Beach against her assurances that she was fine. No, she’d tell them all about it later.
To his credit, Jack had raced to the hospital, burst into the ER and cradled her in his arms. His hair was a mess, his shirt was untucked and he had slippers on his feet. He was almost as big a mess as she was. But Kitty thought he looked oh-so-adorable just then. She had smiled and savored his warm embrace.
Now they were sitting alone in a tiny alcove. Jack had fetched her hot cocoa from a nearby machine and was quizzing her about the accident. She repeated what she’d said earlier. ‘It was no accident, Jack. Steve Barnhard deliberately tried to run me off the road.’ She locked eyes with him. ‘He tried to kill me.’
Jack nodded once. ‘Like I said, we’re looking for him now. He wasn’t at his condo. Elin checked there first. And he isn’t answering his cellphone. But we’ll find him and bring him in for questioning.’
‘Bring him in for questioning?’ Kitty stiffened. ‘Aren’t you going to throw the book at him? Arrest him for murdering poor Gretchen and very nearly killing me?’
‘Are you sure—’
Kitty cut him off. ‘For the last time, I’m sure it was Steve Barnhard. I recognized his SUV. Look, first the guy leaves a threatening note on my windshield. Next, he tries to run me down in broad daylight. Then he comes this close to succeeding,’ she pinched her thumb and forefinger within a hair’s breadth of one another. ‘What more do you need, Jack?’
‘Look, Kitty. I believe you and, believe me, I would love to catch the culprit that ran you off the road.’ He ground his fist into the palm of his opposite hand. ‘More than anything.’
He described to Kitty what he would do to just such a person should he lay his hands on him, and in no uncertain terms. Few of those terms were repeatable in polite circles. ‘But help me out here. Why is Steve Barnhard trying to kill you?’
Kitty noisily slurped her hot cocoa before responding. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he thinks I’m getting too close to nailing him for Gretchen’s murder. He and Barbara Cartwright are in cahoots. They’re lovers, after all. The show could be a gold mine, so I’m told. Money and power. Those are always big on the motives for murder list, aren’t they?’
‘I thought you told me before that he wasn’t all that into the show? That he didn’t really like pets?’
‘Maybe not, but if he sees big potential, what does he care? The color of the money’s all the same. Or maybe he simply wants to gain Daddy’s approval.’
‘He’s already running the show. Mr Barnhard gave it to him. That much is certain. And seeing how he’s Bill Barnhard’s son, my guess is that he’s already loaded.’
‘Maybe, but maybe he needs the money. Maybe he’s got gambling debts, or he’s into drugs? Have you seen those beady eyes of his?’
Jack chuckled.
‘And he seemed awfully interested when I told him that I knew about the envelope.’
‘Envelope?’ Jack pulled his arm away and gently turned Kitty’s face toward his. ‘What envelope?’
Oops. ‘Ooooh.’ Kitty doubled over in pain. She let half a cup of hot cocoa drop from her hands to enhance the act, but grimaced for real when most of it landed on a pair of heels she’d only bought last week. A ruined pair of shoes would be worth it if her ploy worked.
Jack half-rose, a look of alarm on his face. ‘What’s wrong, honey? Are you OK?’ He glanced around. ‘Do you need help? Should I call for a nurse, or the doctor?’
Kitty grabbed his elbow and pulled him back down, clutching her stomach with her free hand. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she said, trying to sound brave and near death all in one breath. ‘I–I think I just need some rest.’
She looked up at her boyfriend with big, pouty baby eyes and matching pouty lips. ‘Take me home?’
Kitty dragged herself out of bed. Or rather, she let Fred drag her out of bed. He gently gripped her left hand in his maw and practically pulled her to the floor. That dog had an alarm clock in his stomach and he apparently wasn’t going to let Kitty’s near death experience get in the way of his breakfast.
Kitty yawned and slipped into her pink fuzzy slippers. She couldn’t be mad at Fred. Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, she saw she should have been up half an hour ago and had managed to sleep right through the buzzer. Her head throbbed and her body felt like it had been run through an electric blender. Yet, as much as she yearned to, this was no time to crawl back under the covers. She had pets waiting for her. She had a funeral to attend.
She also had Jack to answer to, she realized, with growing trepidation, as she first shoveled out breakfast for Fred and Barney, then started up the coffee pot. She had managed to put him off the night before, but he was a bulldog. He was going to want to know all about that envelope she had stupidly mentioned back at the hospital.
She wasn’t prepared to tell hi
m about it. It wasn’t that she planned on keeping the money. Far from it. She’d like nothing more than to turn it in. Having all that cash lying around made her nervous. But now that Steve was under arrest for murdering Gretchen, how could she explain the envelope and the love letters?
Come to think of it, Steve may have already blabbed to the police about the envelope and told them what she had said about it. She groaned and took a swig of black coffee. This wasn’t going to look good for her at all.
Jack was going to have a fit. That annoyingly long-legged lieutenant sidekick of his would probably insist on throwing the book at both her and Fran. What would they be charged with? Obstruction of justice? Grand theft? Stupidity?
No, it was not going to be a good day. About the only satisfaction she could muster was when she pictured that chump Steve Barnhard’s smarmy face behind black iron bars. ‘Serves him right,’ she muttered.
‘Serves who right?’
Kitty jumped. ‘Oh, you scared me.’
Fran pulled down a cup from the mug tree and helped herself to some coffee. ‘Serves who right?’
‘Steve.’
Fran grunted. ‘Anything bad that happens to that man serves him right as far as I’m concerned.’ She tossed some milk and sugar into her cup and splashed it about with a teaspoon before taking a tentative sip. She smiled appreciatively. ‘Perfect.’
Fran took a step back. ‘Girl, if you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you’ve been through the wringer.’ She wriggled her brow suggestively. ‘You and lover boy have a late night, last night? Things get hot and heavy?’
Kitty leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘Oh, they got hot and heavy all right,’ she answered, ‘but not the way you think.’ She filled Fran in on the previous night’s escapade and near death experience.
Her new roommate’s eyes grew wider with each word. ‘Why, that rat,’ Fran exclaimed. ‘I always knew there was something not quite right with Steve. And I knew he and Gretchen got along like cats and dogs.’ She shook her head. ‘But I never thought he’d stick a knife in the poor woman’s back.’
