Claws for Alarm

by T. C. LoTempio

  “Fantastic,” I sighed. “Whatever possessed her to touch that knife? She used to watch those crime shows with Mom. She should have known better.”

  “True. When you combine that with fleeing the scene and what transpired earlier in the day, it provided enough reasonable cause to book her for murder one.”

  I felt a chill snake up my spine. “What happened earlier in the day?”

  “Apparently the grade Pitt gave your sister didn’t sit too well with her. They had a, quote unquote, heated exchange. That’s why they were meeting. She was supposed to show him some of her sketches for extra credit—so he’d pass her.”

  “Great. So, I guess she’s in jail?”

  I pushed my hand through my hair. No one knew better than I just how vicious Lacey could get in the heat of an argument. Our mother had always said her tongue was like a battle weapon—a sharp-edged sword. Still, I had the distinct impression Daniel was holding something back. Before I could call him on it he added, “She’s being held at St. Leo County Jail. And more bad news—I hear the DA thinks this is pretty open and shut.”

  “Well,” I sighed, “this cinches it. She’s going to need a good criminal lawyer. Too bad Perry Mason’s a fictional character. What I need right now is a reasonable facsimile thereof.”

  “I just might be able to help you. My friend Peter Dobbs was an FBI agent, but he left it all behind to go to law school. He’s been working the past year as a public defender in San Francisco, and just last month he opened his own law firm in St. Leo. He interned for a year at the DA’s office, too, working for his uncle—Helmut Dobbs.”

  I let out a low whistle. You had to be living under a rock not to at least be aware of Helmut Dobbs’s reputation. As the DA of Los Angeles County he’d put some pretty high-profile criminals away. “Your friend has a good pedigree. Do you think he’d be willing to take the case?”

  “He’s not only willing; he’s at the jail with your sister as we speak. He told me to tell you to meet him there tomorrow morning at seven thirty a.m. sharp. He’ll get you in to see her before the arraignment.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “If you were here right now, I’d give you a great big kiss.”

  “Hold on to that thought. By the way, I’m going to be incommunicado for a few days, but I’ll check back with you as soon as I can.”

  Disappointment arrowed through me. “New case?” I asked, and then added, “You don’t have to say. I realize you probably can’t talk about it anyway.”

  “Thanks for understanding. Now, you’re sure you’re going to be all right?”

  Aha! The million-dollar question. “I have to be. Lacey needs me to think clearly, because all this has to be one huge mistake.” I paused. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  There was a moment of silence and then Daniel said, “Well, you’ll find out tomorrow anyway. When I told you there was a heated exchange I was being kind.

  “When Pitt gave her that grade, she flipped out and threatened to kill him—in front of about thirty witnesses.”

  THREE

  Once I’d hung up with Daniel I called Chantal to fill her in and ask if she could mind Hot Bread tomorrow. I felt bad asking her—it was Friday, and Fridays were always my busiest day. Lunchtime could get a bit hairy, but Chantal was familiar with the store and most of my regular customers and their preferences. Cooking shouldn’t be an issue despite her self-proclaimed lack of prowess in the kitchen—I had detailed descriptions of each and every sandwich on Hot Bread’s menu along with step-by-step prep instructions in a Rolodex in the kitchen, plus I’d already prepared two dozen of each special listed and stored them in the large refrigerator. Mollie Travis, the high school junior who worked part-time, would be there to help out, too. I knew she only had one class on Friday, and she was always willing to put in some extra hours. Chantal agreed quickly, assuring me making a sandwich was a lot easier than boiling water (go figure) and to call if I needed anything at all. I thanked her profusely before hanging up to call Aunt Prudence, who was thrilled when I asked her if it would be all right for me to spend the night. It would be a lot easier going to the St. Leo police station from her house than battling rush-hour traffic from here. I filled her in on a few more of the details Daniel had shared with me but left out the part about Lacey threatening to murder Pitt. Prudence was upset enough, and I just couldn’t take listening to more of her wailing right now—I had to get my own thoughts in order. As I set down the phone, I heard a loud “Meow” from across the room. I glanced over and saw Nick, curled on top of the pet carrier I’d bought last week at the Pet Palace.

  “So, what? You want to come with me, eh?” I got up, walked over, and started to scratch him behind his ears. “Well, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. I could use a friendly face around me at Aunt Prudence’s tonight, and it will spare you from Chantal’s clutches. ’Cause if you want to stay here, a little birdie told me modeling more pet collars is on the agenda.”

  Nick’s shoulders hunched in a feline shudder, and I grinned.

  “Aunt Prudence won’t mind. She’s always had a soft spot for animals—any stray in the neighborhood could always count on a helping hand from her.”

  Nick hopped down from the carrier top and ambled off toward my bedroom, head and tail held high. I gave a soft chuckle and followed him. He lay down on the rug beside my bed and watched with slitted eyes as I hoisted my brand-new hard-backed overnighter out of the closet and laid it on the bed. I tossed underwear, nightshirt, and slippers inside and then crossed to the closet to get something to wear to the jail the next day. When I turned back I saw Nick’s rotund bottom wiggling underneath my comforter.

  “Hey,” I said, dropping the navy blue pantsuit I’d chosen and fisting my hands at my sides. “What are you doing under there, Nick? Did you lose one of your toys?”

  “Er-ewl,” came the plaintive sound. I bent down and peeped underneath the edge of the comforter. Nick lay there, head resting comfortably on his forepaws. As soon as he caught sight of me he began to purr loudly. He shifted his body to one side, and I caught a flash of something white peeping out from beneath his rotund tummy.

  “What are you hiding now?” I demanded. I knelt down all the way and reached underneath the bed. I poked my finger at his soft underbelly. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

  He rolled over a bit farther at my prodding (none too agreeably, I might add), and I saw that the “hidden treasure” clutched firmly in his shivs was a sheet of notepaper and a faded photograph. I tickled him on his tummy, and he loosened his grip, purring loudly. I snatched up his “treasure” and rose, perching myself on the edge of the bed. Nick rolled over and narrowed his eyes.

  “Sorry, chum. I know it was a bit sneaky of me, but would you have given ’em up willingly?”

  Nick stretched out full length and turned his head.

  I chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” I held the photo up for inspection. It was pretty grainy, but I could make out a dark-haired man in an expensive-looking suit sporting a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses emerging from a building. I set the photo to one side and smoothed out the paper, biting back a gasp as I recognized the cramped handwriting and what was written there.

  The left side of the page chronicling Bronson A. Pichard was ragged, with deep slashes that resembled claw marks. I glanced across the room at the low table I’d set the journals on and wasn’t surprised to find them knocked in a pile on the floor. Well, that’d teach me to lock things up, although with Nick around, that didn’t seem to do much good, either.

  He wiggled out from underneath the bed and sat, head up, staring at me. I waved the paper in the air. “Well, Nick, what have we here? Who said it was okay for you to deface your former owner’s property?”

  He stared at me another minute, then calmly raised his front paw and began licking it.

  I folded the paper and crossed the r
oom to tuck it inside my purse. “If this is your way of reminding me about my promise to look up Pichard, I haven’t forgotten. I want to follow up any lead I can on your former master’s whereabouts, but right now isn’t the best of times. I’m a bit distracted by the honey of a mess my sister’s gotten herself into. But I’ll get to it—don’t worry.”

  Nick’s ears flattened back against his skull. I got the distinct impression if he could speak, he would have said something like: Stupid human. I am a cat, and an extremely talented one. Haven’t you figured out I can do whatever I want?

  Apparently not. But I was learning.

  * * *

  I pulled up at Aunt Prudence’s a few minutes before nine thirty. She’d moved several times since I last visited her, which had been the year I’d moved to Chicago. I’d never been to this house, and it was too dark now for a real good look, but if the wide latticed porch that went around the front and almost the entire left side was any indication, the place was HUGE.

  I glanced over at the ball of black fur in the passenger seat. Nick, unfortunately, had turned out to be a mite too big for the carrier. (Did I say mite? I’m being kind again.) Good thing he enjoyed riding shotgun. I sighed and gave his forepaw a shake. “Wake up, Nick. We’re here.”

  His head came up a bit, and he looked first right, then left, before dropping it back onto his forepaws. I switched off the ignition and tapped my keys against the steering wheel. “Get that tail moving and your rear in gear. I’m not carrying you. And first thing Monday I’m taking that carrier back to the Pet Palace and getting a refund. I can’t even exchange it, dammit. That was the biggest one they had.”

  The porch light flicked on just as I climbed out of the SUV, bathing the surrounding area in a harsh white light, and then a stout figure with short, stylishly cut gray hair, bundled head to foot in a bright purple terrycloth bathrobe, burst out of the front door and made a beeline straight for my car, arms stretched wide.

  “Nora! Thank God you’re here at last!”

  Aunt Prudence is barely five-three, and I’m five-eight in flats, so I dutifully bent over to let her chubby arms envelop me in a bear hug to end all bear hugs. She planted a kiss on my cheek and whispered against it, “Everything will be all right now, I know it. Sharon always said you were the one with the cool head, the one she’d count on if she were in a fix. I remember her exact words: If ever I get in trouble, Pru, I’d rely on Nora to get me out. When the good Lord passed out common sense, he gave her a double dose. She said that—yes, she did.”

  Mention of my mother’s name caused my own eyes to mist a bit. I blinked away the moistness and forced a smile to my lips. “You look tired, Aunt Prudence.”

  “It’s been a long day. Irene tried to get me to relax and take a nap, plied me with chamomile tea, but—” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Hard to relax when you’re worried about a loved one. I don’t know many of the details, but I know Lacey didn’t do what they say she did, Nora.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. I know that, Aunt Prudence. Lacey’s many things, but a murderer isn’t one of them.” No matter what sort of evidence they may have, I added silently.

  She wrung her hands in front of her. “My goodness, I’m not thinking straight. You must be exhausted after that drive. I’ll show you to your room, and then we can catch up over a nice cup of coffee.” Her gaze shifted to a point somewhere beyond my left shoulder, and she let out a small squeal. “Nora—is that a cat in your car?”

  I turned. Nick had his portly bod stretched full length against the windshield. “Um, yeah, that’s a cat, all right. Aunt Prudence, meet Nick.”

  Aunt Prudence continued to stare at Nick, who wriggled off the windshield and hopped onto the driver’s seat where he sat, nose pressed against the window, watching us. “He—he’s yours? I’m sorry to sound so surprised, it’s just—you never expressed much interest in pets. Your mother told me about the chameleon.”

  My sigh rippled the crisp night air. “It’s not like I went down to the shelter and deliberately picked him out. To be frank, he picked me. Just wandered into Hot Bread one day, and now . . . I’ve grown fond of the little guy.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to tell me, dear. I’ve had my share of pets over the years—six dogs, four cats, twelve goldfish, two parakeets, and a parrot. I know all about stray animals choosing owners. He looks handsome. Let’s get a better look.” She waddled over to the passenger side and tapped her fingers against the window. Ever the exhibitionist, Nick lay down on the seat and rolled over on his back, paws in the air, and gave his rotund behind a little wiggle.

  “Oh, he’s so cute!” Aunt Prudence gushed over her shoulder at me. “I can see how even someone like you not fond of animals would get attached.” She flung open the car door and scooped Nick up into her arms, pressing him against her ample bosom. He gave a contented sigh and let his chin rest on her shoulder. The twenty-plus tonnage must have gotten to her, though, because a few moments later she set him down on the ground at my feet. “What do you feed him? He’s a big boy.”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Friskies, Fancy Feast—sometimes Purina.”

  Aunt Prudence’s eyebrows shot up like two rockets. Nick even gave me a look that said, Liar. I gulped and added, “To tell you the truth, he’s fonder of human food. I usually let him eat whatever’s left over at the end of the day from our specials.”

  Aunt Prudence clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “That’s not good, Nora. No wonder he’s so . . . plump. But don’t worry”—she waved her hand in the air—“I had the same problem with Gladys. The vet gave me a diet regimen and canned food guaranteed to help your pet maintain a sensible weight. I can give you one or two cans to take home. It will slim him down in no time.”

  Nick looked at Prudence, then at me, and let out a loud, “Meow.”

  My aunt reached out and chucked him under the chin. “Vocal, isn’t he? I think it’s cute you named him Nick. I know how you loved those Thin Man movies.”

  I retrieved my overnight bag from the car, and then we followed Aunt Prudence inside. I moved into the foyer and rolled my suitcase over to the base of the staircase, pausing to let my eyes travel around. To my right a corridor led toward a kitchen. The living room was directly in front of me, and off to the left in what appeared to be a study, bookshelves overflowing to capacity with both hardcover and paperback volumes took up one entire wall. I cast a quick glance into the living room and saw nothing in there but a wide three-cushion sofa and a high-backed Queen Anne chair in front of a fireplace. What Prudence’s house lacked in furnishings, however, seemed to be more than made up for in trappings. The carpet beneath my feet felt thick and luxurious, and the crown moldings and wall coverings looked expensive.

  “I thought Irene would be here to welcome you, but she must have fallen asleep.” Aunt Prudence threw me a grin that seemed both rueful and apologetic.

  “No worries.” I was actually glad the other woman hadn’t put in an appearance. I glanced around. “This house seems much bigger than your other one.”

  “Oh, it is. I take boarders in, you know, but right now I’m in a bit of a dry spell. I’m using the time to have the second floor redone, but I’ve got a nice big room on the third floor for you and Nick.” Her finger jabbed upward. “I hope you don’t mind stairs? It’s an old house. They’re pretty steep.”

  “No problem.” I patted my flat stomach. “I don’t mind—it’s a good way to keep in shape.”

  “That it is.” She nodded past me. “Think he can make it?”

  I turned and looked at Nick, sprawled spread-eagle on the carpet, his rotund belly heaving in and out.

  “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” I sighed.

  * * *

  Twenty-eight steps later I had my suitcase on the twin bed in the room and Nick lay sprawled out on the braided carpet next to the bed. The room wasn’t much, but it w
as homey; it boasted an iron-frame twin bed, a wooden dresser, and a small nightstand. The walls were covered in a paper that was denim blue and cream, and the chenille bedspread was a lighter shade of blue. Uninspiring quarters, to be sure, but at least they were clean. I took out the suit I’d packed to wear to the police station in the morning and hung it in the tiny closet, then pulled out a small bowl and a package of Fancy Feast for Nick. He scampered double time off the rug, turning around and around as I filled the bowl with salmon and chicken bits. I left him happily hunkered down in the corner and went downstairs in search of the promised coffee.

  By the time I reached the first floor the aroma of freshly brewed Kona blend assailed my nostrils. I followed the scent straight into the large, homey kitchen I’d glimpsed upon my arrival and stood in the doorway for a better look. Gleaming stainless steel appliances took up almost one entire wall, while the one opposite held shelves overflowing with cereal, canned goods, and other assorted groceries. Light streamed in from the window above the sink and filtered over the large wooden table that stood in the center of the room. To the side of the window was what looked like a large covered cage on a stand. I wondered what was inside then decided I was probably better off not knowing. A sizable orange, white, and black calico cat sat square in the middle of the room, paws folded under its head, eyes closed. Aunt Prudence, in front of a massive double oven range, turned, smiled at me, and saw the cat. She immediately hustled over, scooped it up, and deposited it gently in a fluffy fleece bed lying off to one side of the massive double-door refrigerator. The cat shifted comfortably in the bed, with not a peep or a meow.

  “That’s Gladys.” My aunt smiled fondly at the cat. “She’s fourteen but still pretty spry. I’d introduce her to your Nick, but . . . I’m afraid she’s not very sociable with other animals.”