Magical Cool Cats Mysteries Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1, 2 & 3 & A Christmas Feral)

by Mary Matthews

  The pony looked behind him. The narrow diving board wouldn’t allow him to turn around. He began backing up cautiously. Two men appeared and whipped the pony, startling him off the board. He plunged into the water, hooves frantic, gasping for air.

  “Help him, Jack.”

  Jack waded into the water. Still dressed formally for work, his suit drew stares. His hat flew off and he didn’t stop for it. A motor boat near shore scared the pony. Frantic, the pony reversed direction and began swimming further away from the beach. Jack swam quickly. He waved the boat away.

  Jack caught up with the pony. He put one hand on the pony’s mane and led him gently towards the shore again, swimming close beside him. Grace couldn’t hear what Jack was saying but the horse fearlessly accepted his commands.

  They came on to the beach. The pony reared at the sight of the Pony Plunge men.

  “Keep back.” Jack motioned them away.

  “That’s my pony.”

  “I’m closing the Pony Plunge,” Jack said.

  “Who are you?”

  Jack pulled his soggy Pinkerton Badge from his soaked suit. “Jack Brewster. I’m in charge. And I’m taking the pony.” He took the pony to Grace.

  “We can take him to the Hotel Stables. I’ll let my horse know he’s getting a roommate. How will you close it?”

  “I’m the law in Tent City.”

  “Come up to my room. I have a fire. And brandy,” she whispered.

  “Bootleg, Miss Wentworth?”

  “I developed new tastes on the 20th Century Limited.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack’s clothes hung on the dressing screen in front of the fire. Wrapped in a blanket, he sipped brandy. Grace found herself thinking about what lay beneath the blanket.

  “I know you weren’t crying only for the pony,” he said.

  “Jefferson’s heart told him, `I am indeed the most wretched of all earthly beings. Overwhelmed with grief, every fiber of my frame distended beyond its natural powers to bear, I would willingly meet whatever catastrophe should leave me no more to feel or to fear.’” Grace quoted from Jefferson’s Dialogue Between My Head and My Heart.

  “I watched buddies die in the trenches during the Great War. I wake up every day and remember. I don’t want to stop remembering. I mean, I don’t want to remember the Great War every minute but I never want to forget my soldiers. Even with the grief.”

  “Everyone I care about dies,” Grace said.

  “I fought the German Army. I cheated death. I’m not a guy who scares.”

  She climbed on his lap. “I feel overdressed,” She whispered.

  “We could change that.” Jack kissed her neck, hand moving under her dress. Aunt Alice entered without knocking.

  “Mon Dieu, what is going on here?”

  “Jack just saved a drowning pony. He closed that cruel Pony Plunge at Tent City. And he’s drying his clothes.” Grace jumped up quickly.

  “And they look dried up now.” Jack rose and grabbed his clothes. He backed into the bathroom to change.

  “You stupid girl,” she said. “You simply must marry suitably. I’m ordering you to stay away from that Pinkerton Detective.”

  “I don’t have to do anything you order.” Grace replied.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Staring at the ground at Uncle Charles’ funeral, Grace wanted the earth to swallow her up. She smelled something pungent. Looking sideways at Aunt Alice next to her, handkerchief to her mouth, sobbing convulsively, Grace recognized the scent from Tent City’s cafeteria at lunch time. Onion.

  When Mrs. Spreckels approached, Aunt Alice hurriedly put the handkerchief in her pocket, and stood under the San Diego sun, tears luminous on her flawless skin.

  Mrs. Spreckels patted Grace and Aunt Alice gently on the back and said: “He was a great man. We were honored to know him and looking forward to having him as a neighbor.”

  Grace knew that Uncle Charles had bought the lot next to the Spreckels mansion on the bay. Grace didn’t know how they’d find the money to construct a home now. They were barely putting the funds together to pay for nights at the Hotel del Coronado. And it turned out that Uncle Charles’ tent cottage hadn’t been paid for either. Not that Grace was feeling inclined to move in there.

  Grace touched her mother’s pearls for reassurance. Her mother told her, “Pearls are alive. And must always be worn to breathe. Can’t be contained in a jewelry box.”

  Uncle Charles saved her from the orphanage. While he traveled to reach her, she spent a few nights at that scary, cold place where she recoiled from the cacophony of noise. Her bed was on a lower floor and her ears ached from the loud pounding of the heavy, drunken laborers paid by the state to live at the orphanage. They skimped on food for the kids and bought booze instead.

  She owed it to Uncle Charles to find his killer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the funeral, Grace contemplated her future. She had to keep paying her own way. And keep her thoroughbred at the stables. How far could the bathing beauty dollars take her?

  We start out running and we end up shuffling Grace surmises as she watches guests walk through the Hotel lobby. Toddlers, restrained by annoyed mothers, want to run, their little feet move quickly. Elderly guests shuffle, sometimes unable to even pick up their feet, arthritis protesting another day of life.

  She took a deep breath and approached the manager.

  “I’d really like to volunteer. I could help with the filing.” She peered around him. Men in white starched shirts worked behind the desk. Women cleaned the rooms. That definitely needed to change.

  “So, I thought perhaps I could help your clerical staff?”

  When she saw the look of pity flicker in his eyes, she knew he wouldn’t refuse her. And if she performed well as a volunteer, he’d simply have to hire her. And she wouldn’t be homeless and either would General.

  “Okay, let me introduce you to Mac.”

  The look Mac gave her was undisguised hostility. “Watching people work is no substitute for a carnival ride, Miss, isn’t there another way you can entertain yourself?”

  “I will not tolerate insolence towards our guests, Mac.” The general manager reprimanded.

  Oh, if it was possible, Mac looked at Grace with even greater hatred, his lower lip twitched. His eyes rolled.

  And Grace could only think that so little stood between her and homelessness. At least Mac had some semblance of security. The general manager was a good man.

  “Apologize. Miss Wentworth wants to help. And learn about the business. You will behave yourself accordingly, understood?”

  “Understood, Sir. Sorry Socialite.” He snarled.

  When the general manager left, Mac suddenly beamed. “I’ve got something to show you. Here’s an interesting account. Your Uncle’s room service tab.”

  Grace nodded politely. What could possibly be interesting about Uncle Charles’ room service tab?

  He beckoned her closer. He smelled like a mixture of old laundry and rotten egg. She saw Uncle Charles’ usual steak and potatoes on the tab and martinis disguised as extra tonic water and then something unusual. The orders were going to the Coronado Yacht Club.

  “Why would he have room service delivered to the Coronado Yacht Club?”

  Mac just smiled.

  “My Aunt Alice hates yachts. She hates all boats.”

  “I know.” Mac laughed.

  “This must be a mistake. I assure you, this has nothing to do with my uncle.”

  “Why don’t you check out the yacht that took delivery yourself? It’s called The Julia.”

  Grace ran from the room. There was only one person who could set this right. She hurried through Tent City, past the cafeteria, the Japanese Tea House, the plunge baths, the Carnival games, the ferris wheel, the cottages with clever names coined by the inhabitants, Rarely Inn, Might Be Inn, Dew Drop Inn, and Never Inn. And then, ingeniously enough, Jack’s Place.

  Grace peered into Jack’s cott
age. A lone bulb suspended from the ceiling provided the only light. But it was enough to illuminate his books. And Tatania’s cat eyes didn’t require bright light. Now she blinked sleepily, stretching one paw towards Grace, as if in greeting. Cats know the power of beauty sleep.

  One mattress, one table, one cat and many books. Books stacked on every available space in the tent, dominating the space.

  “Books will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no books.”

  Grace jumped at the sound. A younger version of Jack stood next to her, nonchalant and unsurprised to see a woman staring in Jack’s tent.

  “Andrew Carnegie,” he said.

  “You’re not Andrew Carnegie.”

  He laughed. He sounded like Jack.

  “No, I’m not. And maybe that’s why I’m on a scholarship at USC. It was Andrew Carnegie who said that about books. And funded free libraries.”

  “You study history?”

  “No. Architecture. I’m Jack’s brother, David.”

  “Jack never told me he had a brother.”

  “Yeah. My parents aren’t thrilled to claim me either.” He smiled.

  So like Jack. She couldn’t help smiling back. The self deprecating humor. Definitely Jack’s brother.

  He took Grace’s hand and lifted it to his lips. She noticed that his skin was lighter than Jack’s, and his eyes were blue, but his height was about the same.

  Tatania came forward, winding herself around David’s legs, a gesture of possession.

  David picked up the purring cat and gently stroked her chin.

  “Jack rescued her from drowning. Stupid bitch wanted to kill her because she couldn’t hear. Thought it would destroy the bloodline. Lower the price of her Persian kittens.”

  Tatania brushed her cheek against David’s.

  David and Jack’s disdain for the importance of bloodlines made Grace uncomfortable. She’d want to kill anyone who injured a kitten. But her lineage was her only anchor.

  “I’m sorry about your Uncle.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I did the plans for his house. I interned with architects here last summer. Drafting plans. I loved it. I want to build Coronado.”

  “I want a house in Coronado. But don’t start drawing yet. I appear to be a little short on funds for my own mansion right now,” Grace said.

  “We’ll find your money, Grace,” Jack said softly.

  “Jack, the hotel allowed room service charges to my Uncle Charles’ account.”

  “And that is unusual because?”

  “The food was ordered from a yacht.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The yacht looked sleek and beautiful. Aunt Alice made it clear she loathed all sea faring vessels except the ones that could carry her to Paris to buy the season’s fashions. Grace couldn’t imagine Uncle Charles doing anything Aunt Alice loathed.

  They caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke as they climbed on the deck. Jack held out his hand and Grace didn’t take it.

  “Grace, the boat is swaying in the water. I’m offering you my hand. So take it. Okay?”

  Grace watched the boat sway in the water, defiantly lifted up her skirt, and leapt on board.

  She still refused his hand.

  “Nice,” Jack said. “My cat couldn’t have done it better.” Now that was a compliment. They cautiously walked down the steps that led to the ship’s cabin. Grace hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

  “I’m not sure I want to see what is there.”

  “Never, ever be afraid to see what is there. Your uncle had room service orders sent here. Whatever is going on here, we need to find out. You need to assess what is going in life. If you’re going to lead your life instead of just following it around.”

  Grace still felt scared. She reached for his hand and let him lead. Jack knocked on the cabin’s door. It opened, revealing a woman unlike anyone Grace had ever seen before. She wore a dress without a corset, a cigarette in one hand and a baby in the other. Grace felt queasy. The woman just stared at her. Grace wanted to speak but knew that if she opened her mouth, no words would come out.

  Jack introduced her, “This is Grace Wentworth. Charles Hall’s niece.” He nodded at the tired looking woman.

  “I know. Please come in. I’m Julia Woodward.” She offered them coffee. There was an open can of Campbell’s soup on the yacht’s stove.

  The baby reached her arms up for Grace. She usually broke into sweat at the sight of a baby. An only child, she was unaccustomed to small two legged creatures, but immensely fond of small four legged ones.

  Julia Woodward poured two cups of coffee from a French Press. Grace noticed that one of her hands was shaking.

  “Let me help you Julia.” Jack gently took the French Press from Julia and patted her on the back. Grace felt a most unfamiliar emotion. Jealousy. Julia didn’t wear a wedding ring. Grace attributed that to washing dishes because she didn’t see any servants around.

  The baby kept smiling at Grace, gurgling happily.

  “What’s her name?” Grace asked.

  “Charlotte.” Julia replied.

  Grace felt a fluttering around her heart. That crazy, bobbed in the ocean feeling of being unanchored that she’d hadn’t been able to shake since Uncle Charles’ death.

  “I’ve seen the papers of course,” Julia said, looking wan.

  It took another minute for Grace to recognize the family resemblance. Charlotte was Uncle Charles’ baby.

  “It’s all such a shock,” Julia said. She began to cry, with one hand on her chest, the other shielding her eyes.

  Grace couldn’t stop staring. Julia looked only a few years older than her. Through the porthole, she could see the Hotel del Coronado.

  Hands still shaking, Julia lit another cigarette.

  Grace noticed the pack on the table. Chesterfields. Uncle Charles’ brand.

  Jack motioned for Grace to come up on deck with him. Leaving Julia to a private grief.

  “You know what’s going on?” He asked.

  “Sure. My Uncle had a floating love nest.” Grace spat out the words.

  “He had a complicated life.” Jack shook his head.

  “And Charlotte is their baby?” Grace asked the question even though she knew the answer.

  “Yes, Charlotte is our baby.” Julia joined them, Charlotte on hip again.

  “You’re a beautiful woman. Why be with a married man?” Jack asked Julia.

  Sure Julia was beautiful, Grace thought. But was it really necessary for Jack to tell her? She was curious too. Angry for Aunt Alice. Even angrier at Uncle Charles for not being who he was supposed to be. And for dying. When Grace needed him. How was she was supposed to navigate the world alone?

  “It’s not something I planned. When I was a kid, I didn’t think someday I’ll meet a great guy and he’ll be married to someone else.” She looked apologetic but defiant.

  “You have a baby. My Uncle’s baby. And you’re not married.” Grace said in an accusatory way she hadn’t intended.

  “The alternative was not having the baby. And no, she wasn’t planned.” Julia kissed the top of Charlotte’s head.

  “He gave me the name of a doctor in Tia Juana. I went there. I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to go through it. I steeled myself, visualizing the procedure. Still, I began to sob uncontrollably.

  The doctor came in while I was on the table. He touched my forehead kindly. I was so frightened.” Julia shook when she told the story.

  He said, “You don’t have to do this. God will find a way. Trust in God.”

  “I told him I didn’t even have money for cab fare home. And he gave me back my money and told me to leave before he changed his mind. I skedaddled out of there.”

  Grace clutched her stomach. Being a smart woman, Aunt Alice must have known about Julia. And that was reason to kill.

  Julia shrugged. “Charles said he wasn’t really surprised. And that we�
��d work it out. He sent me to Dr. Leventhal. He’d met him in Tent City one summer and Charles trusted him to be discreet. He delivered Charlotte here on the yacht. She arrived one morning to the sound of seagulls and sea lions and fishermen going out for the day.” Julia nestled the baby closer to her.

  “At least I have part of Charles. Half of him.”

  “Where did you grow up?” Jack asked.

  “Virginia. A girlfriend wanted to move out here. At least I thought she was a girlfriend. When we finally got to San Diego, we stayed in a little motel downtown across from the U.S. Grant. And she announced she was leaving. I was alone. My family was three thousand miles away.”

  Jack winced and shook his head.

  “No my Mom didn’t beat me. And no my Dad didn’t do anything wrong either. I would have been content to stay in Virginia. But I wanted to help out a friend. That was my first mistake.” She wanly smiled.

  “So there I was scared to death alone in this motel. I put a chair up against the door. I barely slept. I didn’t know a soul in San Diego. And my money was nearly gone.”

  “Why didn’t you call your parents?”

  “I guess I was embarrassed. They had warned me about going to the West Coast. ‘Nice girls didn’t travel without escorts’, they said. And they didn’t trust my so called friend, Antoinette. Said they’d never liked her. At eighteen, having to admit your parents are right about something feels so annoying. And I was foolish enough to think I could handle anything on my own. Even if I was terrified.”

  “What did you do the next day?”

  “I checked out of the motel. I went across the street to the U.S. Grant for coffee. I attracted a few stares because I was a woman on my own with my trunk beside me. Valets kept coming up to me and offering to take it to my room. I was terrified of any one finding out I was on my own. I told them I was waiting for my husband. It wasn’t really a lie you know, I was waiting for my husband.” Julia winked at Grace.

  “I found a newspaper. There was an advertisement for an apartment for rent over a butcher shop. It was cheap. I told the landlord I could pay for two weeks of the month’s rent. And I’d find a job and pay the rest when I got paid. I felt absolutely confident I’d find a job. He trusted me. And let me move into the apartment.”