by Sparkle Abby
I feared we were headed for a repeat of the earlier faint so I opted to keep April Mae . . . uhm . . . June talking.
“So she was expecting you?”
“She was. What happened? It wasn’t a heart attack or something, was it? That’s part of what got us looking for each other. Tryin’ to figure out our health backgrounds. Now what will I dooooo . . .” The final word turned into a wail. One that had a lot in common with a police siren.
Speaking of police, I should probably alert them.
“First off let me call Detective Malone. He’s the one who’s investigating your sister’s death.”
I wasn’t sure she’d heard me over the wail. I took my cell phone and stepped into the kitchen. April or Mae or whatever the heck her name was certainly was nothing like Kitty.
Kitty had always been the epitome of decorum in all the time I’d known her. Understated elegance, cultured voice, proper society manners. I was sure none of those descriptors had ever been used in the same sentence with the blonde bundle of nerves who was nearing nuclear meltdown in Kitty’s living room.
The commotion had attracted the attention of Tobey and Minou who’d come to see what the noise was all about. They probably thought it was the smoke alarm. It had the same ear-piercing pitch.
“Hello? Caro?” Malone had answered, and I hadn’t heard him. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Can you hold on just a minute?” I stepped out onto the patio to escape the clamor.
I quickly filled him in. At least with the little I knew anyway.
“I’ll be right there.” And he hung up.
I dreaded going back in the house, but figured I should check on her. She had to be in shock with the news she’d just had.
I stepped inside. The house was quiet.
“Can I get you some water or . . .” The sight that greeted me was not what I expected.
April Mae or—uhm June—was curled up on the couch with the two cats in her lap. Now these two felines had only barely begun to warm up to me, and I’d been their primary caretaker and source of food for the past two days. But the little blonde sprite was apparently the Cat Whisperer and had charmed them in a matter of minutes.
Cats can sometimes be one-human animals. Loyal to a particular person and apathetic about anyone else. Maybe they somehow knew this human shared genes with their beloved owner.
She scratched behind an ear of each feline, and massive purring commenced.
April Mae smiled. “Aren’t they the most gorgeous things you have ever seen? Do they belong to my sister?”
“They do.” I didn’t think it would be a good idea to point out that it was really past tense. “Their names are Tobey and Minou. This one is Minou, and the slightly larger one is Tobey. They paint.”
The doorbell rang, and we all jumped. Malone must have been in the neighborhood when he’d taken my call.
I answered the door, and sure enough it was Mr. Serious himself. I couldn’t wait to see how he dealt with April-Mae-You-Can-Call- Me-June.
When Malone walked into Kitty’s living room, I thought April Mae was going to swoon again.
She looked up at him and batted her baby blues. “Well, my, my. I guess here in California even the police officers are movie star handsome.”
“Detective Judd Malone, ma’am.”
“My name is April Mae, but you can call me June.”
He looked at me. I shrugged. I couldn’t help him out; I’d not been able to sort the name thing out myself.
“And you say you’re Ms. Bardot’s sister?”
“I am.” She went into the same explanation she’d given me about looking for Kitty, them finding each other, and her deciding to drive to California. Then, lip trembling, she added the part about ringing the doorbell and finding me in Kitty’s house. And being told her sister was dead.
Malone looked at me pointedly.
“I was here feeding the cats,” I explained.
“Are you staying somewhere nearby?” he asked the little sprite as she went on petting Tobey and Minou, and they continued eyeing Malone.
I swear she looked like a little girl with a lap full of kittens.
“I’d planned to stay here with my sister.” Her lip began to tremble again.
“Let me call Ms. Bardot’s attorney and see if staying here is acceptable.” It seemed Malone was as affected by her threatened tears as I was.
He excused himself and went outside to make the call.
It didn’t take long, and he was back.
“Okay, ma’am, you’ll need to give Mr. Paul Kantor a call tomorrow morning. He’s Ms. Bardot’s attorney. I’ve written his number on my card.” He handed her his business card. “If anything comes up, please give me a call. As far as the reporters who are sure to be knocking on the door, I’d suggest not talking to them.”
April Mae or—uhm June took the card and clutched it against her ample chest. “Like if what kind of anything comes up, officer?” The pixie had developed a Marilyn Monroe Happy-Birthday-Mr. President breathiness. Caused by hyper-aware hormones one could only guess. Malone had that effect on a lot of females.
He was oblivious to it, which made him all the more irresistible. “Anything to do with your sister’s accident.”
“Oh sure, you bet your bootie, officer. If anything comes up, I’ll call.”
Malone looked at me, started to say something, and then turned and left.
“I just love strong, silent types, don’t you?” April-Mae-You-Can-Call-Me-June intoned as the door clicked shut.
“Hmmm.” I was non-committal, not that she noticed. In my interactions with Malone, he’d been strong but certainly not silent. I guess I had that effect on him. Something to do with interfering in his murder investigation.
“Come on, I’ll show you where Tobey and Minou’s food and supplies are kept.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I almost wondered if I’d dreamed the craziness of the previous night. But the gray splotched pickup truck with Missouri plates was still parked in the driveway next door.
I had an appointment in Ruby Point, the gated-community where my friend Diana and several of my clients lived. This was the referral from Diana.
Nicky Chang was a divorced, single, empty-nest mom with a Chihuahua who’d become aggressive with anyone who came near her. I wasn’t sure if Nicky worked, or if she did, what the woman did for a living. Diana had given me none of those details, but tons of intel about the dog. With Diana it’s always about the animals, not the people, and I knew she’d expect a full report when we met later for lunch.
The guard at the gate recognized me and waved me through. I had no trouble locating the house. The homes were all huge, all gorgeous, and all had million-dollar views. Nicky Chang’s house had a traditional look with a stone front and walled back yard.
I rang the doorbell at the Chang house and introduced myself. It didn’t take long to determine the issue with Sunshine, the problem Chihuahua. Sunny was being carried everywhere. With no walks and no effort expended to get from Point A to Point B, Sunny had loads of energy to get into trouble.
I prescribed daily walks and limiting the amount of time Sunshine was carried. The more exercise the little dog got, the better for her and I’d be willing to bet the fewer issues she would have. I also thought Nicky Chang might be having a problem with babying Sunny a bit too much, but I didn’t see any evidence of that while I was there. I told Nicky I’d check back with them in a week and encouraged her to call me if she needed me before then.
It was a little slice of enjoyable normal to be having lunch out with Diana. Seemed like nothing had been normal lately. We’d finally rescheduled our lunch from the day the cats had gone wild and trashed my house, and I was really looking forward to the chance to catch up with he
r.
We had agreed on G.G.’s Bistro. I’d asked for a table on the patio and had just ordered an iced tea when Diana arrived. I waved to make sure Diana saw I was already there, and she waved back.
At seventy-something she still turned heads. Elegant, as always, today she wore Dior, and she wore it with style. A short-sleeved peach summer dress that complemented her blonde hair, matching peach sandals, and a large Dior quilted handbag aka doggie carrier. Not that the Dior folks meant for it to be used as a dog carrier, but Diana was hardly ever without Mr. Wiggles, her rescue puggle. Mr. Wiggles was so well-behaved you wouldn’t even know he was there. He didn’t make a peep as Diana made her way to the table, but I could see his little black nose peeking over the top of the bag. Many Laguna restaurants allow dogs, at least for patio dining.
“So, finally we get to have lunch.” She seated herself in the chair and settled Mr. Wiggles on the extra chair.
“I know.” The waitress came with my tea. “It’s been way too long.”
While Diana ordered her beverage, I leaned over to rub Mr. Wiggles’ head and enjoyed the breeze. It was a gorgeous day, and the bistro had a wonderful relaxed ambiance.
“Oh my, you look lovely today, Caro. Lily Pulitzer?”
Diana’s eye for fashion was keen.
“Why, yes it is.” I smoothed the skirt of my turquoise striped sundress.
“It’s a great color for a pretty red-head like you.” Diana reached over and patted my hand. “I’ve missed you, honey.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I truly had. The woman’s view of the world and down-home common sense was a breath of fresh air for me. She reminded me in so many ways of my Grandma Tillie. Though Dallas, Texas is a long way from Hollywood (and I mean that less in miles and more in the philosophical sense), Diana and Grandma Tillie would have seen eye to eye on a whole lot of topics.
Diana leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Lots of excitement with your neighbor.”
“You’re not going to believe the latest development.” I filled Diana in on Kitty’s sister’s arrival.
“Caro, it’s like a soap opera. The secret sister no one knew about.” Her eyes were wide. “So, how’s the investigation going?”
“I only know what I hear on the news.”
“I meant your investigation, dear.”
“I’m not investigating.” I lowered my voice and looked around. I wasn’t sure if I thought Malone was lurking somewhere or why exactly we were whispering. Probably guilt on my part more than anything.
“Sure. Right.” Diana laughed. “Caro, you can’t help yourself. You’re naturally curious, and you’re good at figuring out people. I think the Laguna Beach PD ought to hire you as a consultant.”
“Not interested, and I’m quite sure one particular homicide detective would not be in favor.”
“How is Detective Dreamy?” She took a sip of the Perrier the waitress had slipped in front of her.
“He’s fine.”
She laughed at my obvious avoidance of a discussion about Judd Malone. “So, what’s this sister like?”
“Kitty’s sister is uhmm . . . an interesting character.”
“How so?” Diana opened her menu. “Do you really think this woman is her sister? Is she nice?”
“She’s not at all like Kitty.” I glanced down at the menu I held, vacillating between a salad or a kabob. “But I do believe she’s Kitty’s sister.”
“What about Ms. Bardot’s cats?” Diana tapped manicured nails painted a shade of peach just slightly deeper than the color of her dress. The lady was always put together well. “Are you still taking care of them, or is this sister the caretaker now?”
“She is, and she’s wonderful with Tobey and Minou. They definitely have taken to her.”
“Sometimes animals read people better than we do. Poor thing. Here she finally finds her sister and then loses her before they can meet.” Diana sighed. “So sad.”
The waitress was back, and we ordered. I’d decided on the grilled calamari salad, and Diana picked the Alexander kabob. I was sure Mr. Wiggles would love the beef. The bistro was casually decorated, a tasteful but comfortable décor. I felt myself relax as I explained (read unloaded) to Diana how I felt about Kitty’s sudden death and then finding out she had this secret.
“I guess you can live next door to someone and never really know them,” I mused, stirring my tea. “Kitty wasn’t secretive, but we mostly talked about our yards or our pets. We exchanged house keys and kept an eye out for each other’s houses if one of us were out of town. But I guess I didn’t really know her at all. We were both always so busy.”
“I liked Kitty Bardot, and she was a fierce advocate for her clients, but I use Octavia Berns as my publicist.” Diana sipped her Perrier. “Octavia and I have been together for years, and she gets me. I’m afraid Bardot and Company would’ve pushed for more than I’d like to take on at this stage of my life.” Diana slipped a bread crust to Mr. Wiggles. “Still, they seemed to be the up-and-coming firm.”
“That was my impression too.”
The waitress arrived with our entrees, and we waited until she’d left to resume our conversation.
“Caro, I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Anything, Diana.”
“I’m going to Italy with Dino. I’ve never been, and this seems like a perfect opportunity.”
“Taking you home to meet the family?” I teased. Diana and the local restaurateur, Dino Riccio, had recently been an item.
She ignored my comment.
“I can’t take Mr. Wiggles and the rest with me. I wondered if you’d stop by the house a couple of times during the week to check with Bella and see how she’s doing with the crowd.” By crowd, Diana meant her other assorted animals.
Diana had a beautiful Maine Coon cat, Gypsy, Mr. Wiggles, her lop-eared puggle, Barbary, her grumpy one-eyed basset hound, and Abe, her goat. All rescues. As well as assorted other cats and dogs she fostered. At one point, I believe she also had a rooster, Walter. Though I think Walter had now been adopted by a very nice family.
“Also, would it be okay if I gave Bella your phone number to call if she runs into any problems? I know she’ll do fine, but I’d feel better if she had someone she could contact.”
“Absolutely, no problem.”
We walked out together, and I walked Diana to her car, kissed her on the cheek and wished her well on her trip to Italy. I was so excited for her. With Diana on her way to get ready for her trip, and Mr. Wiggles on his way to snack on his leftovers, we went our separate ways.
I took care of my errands, walked back to my car and headed into the office. I needed to pick up some files, and then I was off to my own afternoon appointments. I checked my messages. I’d had a couple of calls from clients and could return those while I was at the office. Also one from my mama. Yeah, I was avoiding her.
Chapter Eight
It appeared that a three-ring circus had moved into my office since I’d last been there. Was it just yesterday?
I don’t usually see animal clients in the office. There’s so much I need to know about their environment, and it’s usually the pet parents who are the problem—not the pets.
There was a huge Newfoundland, who looked more like a big black bear than a dog, and a Boston Terrier, who had wrapped his leash completely around the hall tree. An adorable but overly excited Bichon Frise had a dog toy and was desperately trying to get someone to play.
Meanwhile, there was an unholy din as first the short-legged brown and black basset hound, and then the young tan and white beagle howled first at each other and then at the rest. In response, a tiny Pekingese lifted his leg and peed on the sundial design oriental carpet in the entryway.
Oh, my.
I made my way through the chaos and to the circular desk
in the middle of the room. A frizzy-haired young woman I didn’t recognize was on the phone. Her curly dark hair rioted around her face and draped down on a bright yellow and purple smock. She hung up the phone and turned to me, dark eyes blinking furiously.
“Can I help you?”
“What are all these dogs and people doing here?”
“Oh, they’re here to see Caro Lamont, the pet therapist.”
“I’m her. I’m Caro, the . . .” Sheesh, I was having as much trouble with my own name as I had with April-Mae-June’s name. “I’m the pet therapist.”
“Great. Then they’re here to see you. Who would you like to see first?”
“I don’t see patients in the office. Where is Paris?” Paris was our regular receptionist. Before you go there, yes, she does look like that Paris. However, her last name is not the same as the hotel heiress. She normally takes care of all of us in the office complex. There’s me, a tax accountant, a real estate agent, and a psychic.
I have to tell you right at that moment I wished for a little clairvoyance myself. Maybe if I had some special mental powers, I’d be able to figure out what was going on.
“She’s gone. I’m LaKeesha, and I’m from the temp agency. People called about their problem pets. That’s what you do, right? The schedule says you’d be in the office today at two o’clock, so I told them you’d be in at two and they should just bring their dogs and come on in. Do you have forms they should fill out?”
I tried to hold onto my patience. “No forms. I don’t see the animals in my office. I need to see them in their homes.”
“Oh.” Her bright plum-tone lipsticked mouth made a perfect O.
I turned to look at the room. Besides the fact there were a whole lot of unhappy pet parents, it was a very unstable environment for the dogs. I considered a mass announcement but wasn’t sure I could be heard, so I started with the closest dog. The big Newfie. His owner was a tall athletic honey blonde.
“Hi, what’s this guy’s name?”
