Cat Got Your Diamonds

by Chase, Julie;

  The ambulance wailed onto the street, blinding me with too-bright lights and too many reflectors. A pair of NOPD cars brought up the rear.

  Chase blinked into view beneath a cone of streetlamp light. He raced over the mossy, uneven sidewalk. “What happened? I was halfway home when I saw the emergency vehicles headed this way.”

  Mom stretched a finger in Levi’s direction. “That man tried to kill her.”

  Chase pulled me to his chest and wrapped long arms around my back.

  “What are you doing?” I mumbled into his shirt.

  He kissed the top of my head and lay his cheek on my hair. “All these people think I’m your boyfriend,” he whispered. “I’m selling it. Plus, you nearly scared the cookies out of me.”

  “That’s enough.” I pulled away to watch the events unfold behind me.

  Jack’s ghostly blue eyes were locked on us. His stance was rigid. His expression was blank.

  “That’s Levi Marks,” I explained to Chase. “He tried to carjack me, and I drove away, but he hurt his foot. I think I ran it over.”

  Jack opened and closed his right fist, clenching and stretching his fingers.

  I cringed. “Jack might’ve helped his face get like that.”

  Levi called out in pain with every touch of the EMT’s hands. He grinned slyly as he watched me fume helplessly.

  “I wish I’d helped his face get like that. He says he’s going to sue me for escaping his attempt on my life.”

  Chase puffed air. “Typical. I know where you can get a good Other-Lawyer-Be-Stupid spell.”

  A short laugh lodged in my throat and hardened into a painful rock. My bottom lip began to tremble. “He wanted to kill me, and I don’t even know why.”

  Jack snapped out of his stupor and approached me with a look of shocking remorse. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop this.”

  I waved a trembling hand. “You tried. You were here. What else could you have done?”

  “I could’ve driven you here.” He ran a heavy hand through his hair and settled it on the back of his neck. “I could’ve kept a closer eye on the staff tonight. I should’ve had a second set of eyes on the premises, but I didn’t. You should be proud. Keeping a level head in a situation like that isn’t easy, and it probably saved your life.”

  “Thanks.”

  He dipped his chin. “Levi won’t hurt you again. He’s in violation of his parole and in possession of a firearm. He attempted an abduction and is clearly high. He’s going back to jail for a long time.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I savored the sweet drawl in those words. Relief washed over me like rain.

  “Party’s over,” Jack called into the crowd. “If you believe you saw or heard anything tonight that could be useful to the police, or if you know anything about this man”—he pointed to Levi, who was being loaded onto a gurney—“please see me now. Otherwise, form a line, collect your cars from the valet, and go home. I’ll get a guest list from Mrs. Conti-Crocker and contact you individually this week if I have any further questions.”

  I wrapped shaky arms around myself and leaned against Chase for support. “It’s over.”

  He rubbed his palms up and down my chilled skin. “Got any coffee left, Mrs. C?”

  “Of course.” She extended her hand to me.

  I accepted.

  Mom swept me against her side. “I can make some herbal tea if you don’t want the caffeine.”

  “I want the caffeine.” I wouldn’t be sleeping again until I knew Levi Marks was behind bars far away from New Orleans.

  * * *

  Slowly, the coffee spread through my icy veins, warming me from the inside out. Mom put me on the couch and covered me with Grandma’s favorite afghan. She slid booties over my feet and patted my head. Imogene arrived minutes later and whispered frantically with Mom in the kitchen.

  Chase left the minute the crowd had dispersed. The caterers had the house back to preparty status in twenty minutes. Dad made plans to go to the firing range and unload some frustration first thing in the morning.

  I set my empty cup aside and rubbed my palms together. “Want some company when you go?” Shooting was something Dad and I had done together all my life. His dad bought me my first BB gun when I was eight. We shot old cans off fence posts at his farm until I couldn’t miss. Dad took me skeet shooting at the club when I was older. He bought me my first handgun as a graduation gift, but I’d left it at home when I went to college. Dad had been a military sharpshooter. I wasn’t half bad ten years ago, but I hadn’t held a gun since I completed my concealed carry training. I’d wondered a thousand times about my mugger. What if I’d been carrying? Would I have taken his life to save my own? I couldn’t answer that question, which meant it was a good thing I’d left my gun in a safe where it belonged.

  Mom pushed a swath of hair behind my ear. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Bad juju.”

  Imogene clucked her tongue. “Didn’t I tell you?” She unwrapped a brilliant silk scarf from her hair and dropped onto the edge of the couch at my side. “Your mama told me everything.”

  I gave Mom the stink eye.

  Mom gave it back. “I think you should stay here tonight.”

  Imogene pressed one of my hands in both of hers. “Listen to your mama. There’s blood on the moon tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  I squeezed her hand and smiled. “I missed you at the party. Where were you?”

  “I was babysitting my granddaughter, Miss Isla.”

  “How’s Isla?”

  She shook her head and dug into her purse. “Better than you. She’s tucked in tight. Swaddled in love.” She liberated a small hunk of clay from her bag and pressed it into my hand. “For good luck. Chanchito will keep you safe.”

  I opened my palm. A little three-legged pig figurine looked back at me. “Thanks.” I closed my fingers around it and reevaluated my life. “How long can it take to talk to the guests?” I wanted to go home, away from another crime scene. I wanted to be tucked into my bed and swaddled with love. What did a lady have to do around here for that?

  The muted glow of red-and-blue lights disappeared from outside the window. “I think they’re all gone now,” Dad said.

  “Thank goodness.” A few days ago, I’d worried about ruining my family’s name when coverage of Miguel’s murder hit the paper. Tonight I’d lured a jewel thief and killer to my parents’ home and run him over with my car. “I’m really sorry about this.”

  Dad pulled the curtain back and scanned the street. “This isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for the actions of a criminal.” He released the curtain and headed for the kitchen. “Anyone need anything else?”

  “No.” We all answered.

  The back door opened and closed.

  Jack’s voice cut through the air. “I’m sorry to do this now, but I’d like to get Lacy’s statement while it’s fresh in her mind.”

  As if I wouldn’t replay it frame by frame for the next thirty years.

  I tensed as his footfalls grew nearer and sighed in relief when he came into view.

  Imogene made a long humming sound before going to stand with my mom.

  “May I?” He motioned to the chair beside me.

  “Of course. Do you want coffee? Tea?” I wiggled into a seated position on the couch.

  “Whisky?” Dad offered.

  Jack smiled. “I plan to have plenty of that later.” He turned anguished eyes on me. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think you can give an account of your night for the record? If you need more time, we can wait until morning, but I’d rather not push it longer than necessary. Images and recollections can become hazy or inflated as time goes by. We rehash, add, and eliminate things from memories as necessary for our mental health.”

  “Now’s fine.”

  Dad extended a hand to Mom and Imogene. “Come on. I missed the party
, and I’m starved. Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

  Jack scooted forward in his chair until his knees bumped the couch. “Do you want to call them back for moral support? This can be a difficult process so soon after a trauma.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Maybe you want your boyfriend with you.”

  “I don’t . . . Chase Hawthorne is not my boyfriend. Mom cooked up that scheme so I’d stay at her party. When men flirt with me at these things, I never know what to say, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

  “It’s hard to be young, wealthy, and attractive.”

  I scoffed. “Shut up.”

  “What?” He smiled. “I was talking about me.”

  A laugh bubbled up from my core. “Yeah, you looked miserable, surrounded by all those women.”

  “Like I said.” He turned his cell phone over and rested it on the coffee table. “I’m going to record this. I’ll take notes, but you can talk as quickly as you like and get it all out. I’ll replay and review the statement later.”

  “Should I write anything down? Do you need a written statement?”

  “When you’re ready.”

  I wrung my hands. “You have a good bedside manner. Ever think of becoming a doctor?”

  “Maybe when I get too old to chase crooks.”

  “You call them crooks? You might be older than you think, Bugsy.”

  He tapped the pen against his paper. “I’m sorry I was short with you yesterday.”

  “Do you mean when I stopped by, unannounced, and told you I was digging around in your murder investigation?” I smiled. “I was mad about that for a while, but I guess you had a point.”

  “I knew Levi was in town. I assumed he was following you, which is why I’ve been staking out your place. I didn’t want you leading him to my house. The goal was for me to surprise him and not the other way around.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was in town?”

  “I wanted to protect you without worrying you.”

  “How’d you know for sure?” I’d speculated but hadn’t found any proof.

  He gave me the bored, it’s-my-job face. “I went back to Boondocks and talked to the bartender. She gave a description of the man asking about Miguel. I showed her Levi’s mug shot, and she confirmed it was him, so we put out a BOLO and pulled some footage from local business cameras. We spotted him catching a cab, got the number, and called the cab company to see where he went.”

  “Just like on television.”

  His cheek twitched, barely avoiding a smile. “Yeah. Just like.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Magazine Street. No address, just asked for Magazine, so they dropped him off around lunchtime. We assume he waited for Miguel, followed him into Furry Godmother, and killed him.”

  “So I’m really safe.” I loved the sound of those words.

  “I think so,” he said, working his tie loose and unbuttoning the top button on his shirt. “Yes.”

  I retold my story of the night’s harrowing events in detail, then did my best to write it out. It was after midnight when I finished. “I guess I should head home. Maybe I’ll open the shop tomorrow. Paige keeps texting me, wanting to come in.”

  Jack stretched to his feet. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to say good-bye to your folks, then follow you home.”

  I tossed Grandma’s afghan off my legs and toed off the booties. “You don’t have to do that. I know the way.”

  “I don’t mind. You may find it harder than you think to be alone the next few days or weeks. Knowing the bad guy’s in custody is logic, but logic does little to quell fear. Believe me. I know. I think you do, too.”

  I couldn’t imagine Jack fearing anything, but he was right. I still dreamed of the monster in that Virginia alley. “Fine. You can follow me home, but don’t try to come inside or I’ll tell my boyfriend.”

  He snorted. “Wouldn’t want that.”

  * * *

  The houses on my street were appropriately quiet. Humidity clung to the ground in a haze beneath my headlights as I bounced over the warped brick road. A colony of bats swooped past the moon, swallowed quickly by the inky darkness. I pulled into my drive and cut the radio. Jack was right. I didn’t like the idea of going inside alone. Imogene’s warning of bad juju and blood on the moon niggled in my mind. I didn’t know what either meant, specifically, but they sounded bad. I unlatched my seatbelt and tried not to see my house as a place where someone could get me alone for nefarious reasons.

  I hadn’t been home since the morning. Buttercup was probably worried and hungry—two downsides to having a roommate. Even after a night like mine, someone had to serve the brine shrimp.

  Jack parked behind me and climbed out. His gait was tight as he approached my car door.

  I popped my door open and planted both feet on the ground. “I thought you weren’t going to try to come inside.”

  He turned cold eyes my way and flicked a warning finger in my direction. He slid the opposite hand under the back of his high-end black jacket. A moment later he pointed a gun at my front door.

  I slapped both palms over my mouth and tried not to vomit. I yanked my feet back inside the car and locked the door.

  He moved onto the porch like a panther, touched my doorknob, and swung the front door open.

  Chapter Twenty

  Furry Godmother’s recommended reading for single ladies: How to Jiu Jitsu.

  Jack returned to my car several minutes later and knocked on the window. “Someone’s been inside. I called it in.”

  I powered the window down an inch and directed my voice toward the crack. “How’d you know something was wrong?” Was he a psychic? What if I’d come home alone? Why didn’t I see what he saw?

  “Your porch light was off.”

  I gave the house a disbelieving look. “You know it burnt out.”

  He looked away. “I came by this afternoon and changed the bulb.”

  “Oh.” That was nice. A little creepy and presumptuous, but not an awful gesture. “Thank you.”

  “You should come in and take a look around.”

  A NOPD car pulled up behind Jack’s truck. One of the officers who’d been at my parents’ house climbed out. “Busy night.” He shook Jack’s hand.

  Jack straightened. “Looks like Marks planned to wait here for her, but she hasn’t been home since breakfast. When she didn’t show, he rifled through her kitchen and found the dinner invitation.”

  I resisted the urge to smack my forehead. One more reason formal invitations were awful. They cost a fortune, killed trees, filled up my recycle bin, and led gun-wielding nutballs right to me.

  The officer bent forward and looked in my car window. “How are you holding up?”

  “I think I’m in shock.”

  He looked at Jack. “Is she up for this?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  The officer looked guilty. “Hey, I don’t mean to be a jerk. You’ve had one hell of a night.” His troubled eyes were a strange comfort. Validation, maybe. Tonight was truly awful.

  “I’ve got to ask you to look around. Make a statement.”

  I forced my stiff fingers off the steering wheel.

  “Lacy?” Jack’s smooth voice beckoned. “You’ll have to turn the car off.”

  I made my fingers cooperate. I must have restarted my car while contemplating how far away I could get with the gas in my tank.

  I followed the men up my walk. Fragments of a shattered bulb crunched under foot on the dark porch. Inside, nothing seemed different. I lingered in the doorway, buoyed at least by the fact my home wasn’t in complete upheaval like my store had been.

  Jack made a trip to the kitchen and returned with Mom’s invitation in one freezer bag and my red dry-erase marker in another. “We’ll get prints off these, the light switches, and doorknob, maybe her kitchen counter. Remember, Miguel’s killer wore gloves. If gloves are Levi’s thing, it’s going to be difficult to attach him to yo
ur break-ins, but either way, he’s going back to jail for the stunt he pulled earlier.”

  I considered the statements. “How long do fingerprints take? When will we hear about the break-in at Furry Godmother last night?”

  “We should have the results tomorrow. I’ll check on the prints from yesterday first thing in the morning.”

  I walked through my rooms slowly, hoping to find an obvious clue to who’d lurked in my home. Maybe Levi’s photo ID or a note signed by him. Whatever it took to make sure he didn’t come back.

  Jack snapped a photo of Buttercup with his phone.

  “Is my fish a suspect?” Poor Buttercup. Alone with a killer.

  Jack took another picture. “No.”

  I crossed the space to his side.

  The little red heart Scarlet had drawn was wiped away and replaced with a cartoon gun and four letters: B-A-N-G.

  I grabbed a paper towel and scrubbed the glass. “I hate this guy.” I dropped three fishy pellets into the water. “I’m so sorry you were adopted into my mess, Buttercup.” How could I even think of bringing Penelope into this? I was a terrible mother.

  The officer appeared with his little notebook. “Anything missing or damaged?”

  “No.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I’ll need more time to know if he stole chocolate from my sock drawer stash, but everything looks just like it did when I left this morning.” I turned to Jack for advice. “Should I go through every drawer before you leave?”

  He stuffed his phone into his back pocket. “No. Take your time. You can add to your initial statement anytime.”

  A little shiver ran down my spine. “So this really wasn’t a robbery?”

  Jack lowered his head and lifted his brows. “Based on what I see here, I think this was attempt number one on your life, or at the least, on your abduction. I think he let himself in and waited in the living room for your car to pull up.” He pointed to my front window. “The chair’s been angled away from your television and positioned for a clear view outside. Your personal calendar is open on the kitchen counter and the dinner invitation is with it. This guy was looking for you.”

  “Now I’ve got to move,” I groaned. “I can’t sleep here.”