Cat Got Your Diamonds

by Chase, Julie;

  Jack handed the evidence bags to the officer. “You don’t need to move. We’ve got Levi in custody and nothing here is damaged. Maybe burn the chair and buy a new calendar. Get an alarm system.”

  “Maybe I should move to Peoria and raise bunnies.”

  He stretched his eyes wide and mouthed, “Wow.”

  I wiped a sneaky tear off my cheek.

  “Did he say anything to you before you ran him over?” Mischief glinted in his eye.

  “He wanted Miguel’s diamonds. He was adamant I had them and they were his. He wanted me to take him to them, but I knew if he got into the car . . .” I choked on a knot of fear.

  “Look,” Jack whispered, containing our conversation. He turned his back to the officer. “I think you’re sleep deprived, scared, and polka dancing toward delirious. Why don’t you pack a few things and let me follow you back to your parents’ house for tonight?”

  I nodded woodenly. “I’ll research Peoria tomorrow. I could surround myself in bunnies. Make that a thing. Move over, cat ladies. The cool crazies collect bunnies.”

  He pressed one hand to the small of my back and steered me toward the bedroom. “You aren’t that crazy. Get your things. I’ll call your Dad and tell him we’re on our way.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget my fish.”

  * * *

  I opened Furry Godmother the next morning with trepidation. Logically, I knew the danger had ended, but Imogene’s concern about bad juju plucked at my skin like a thousand tiny needles. Jack was right. Fear was irrational.

  I slapped a borrowed throw rug over the warning carved in my floorboards and tacked it down with finishing nails. The rug was Mom’s. The nails were Dad’s. The unresolved emotional issues were all mine.

  The little bell over my door jingled, and I jumped to my feet.

  Paige waved. “Feeling edgy?”

  “Yep.” I checked the rug from every angle. The nails were invisible in the braided strands. “Thanks for coming in.” I probably wouldn’t have opened today if I had to work alone.

  “No problem. I’m glad to be useful, and I could use the money.”

  I relaxed a fraction, thankful for normal conversation. “Party plans?”

  She swept long bangs off her forehead. “No. I’m saving for fall semester. The bad thing about growing up in New Orleans is how fast it seems dull when you’ve seen it all before. I’m looking forward to school starting.”

  I lined colored pencils on the counter and unfolded plans for four Jazzy Chicks upright pianos. “What do you think of this?” I turned the sketch to her.

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a little punk rock for your mom’s crew, isn’t it?”

  I tapped a gum eraser against the sleek black drawing. Gas-blue-and-green flames climbed the side and turned to silver confetti above the keys. “I was being ironic.”

  “Are they hipster chickens?”

  The door opened once more, and Mrs. Neidermeyer swept inside. Her jangling bracelets echoed through the quiet studio, punctuated by the steady clip-clop of designer heels. “How are you?”

  “Super.”

  She stopped to lean against the counter between us. “I can’t believe you’re here today after that mess last night. Jack Oliver looked ready to rip everyone’s heads off. I gave my statement to the uniform cop who didn’t have smoke billowing from his ears.”

  Paige crept close to Mrs. Neidermeyer. “Sounds like the detective was feeling a little overprotective, maybe even territorial.”

  Mrs. Neidermeyer’s eyes widened. “You don’t say.”

  I shook my head. “No. Jack and I are friends.” Were we friends? I stopped midthought to ponder the question. We were. When had that happened?

  “What about Chase Hawthorne? You two looked awfully cozy, and everyone noticed you disappearing upstairs for more than an hour.”

  Paige steepled her fingers and smiled brightly at the older woman. “Oh, really?”

  I feigned rapt attention in my chipping nail polish. Memories of Chase’s lips near mine lifted the soft hair on my arms to attention.

  Mrs. Neidermeyer raised her eyebrows to her hairline. “You should’ve seen Jack. He didn’t know whether to shoot or wind his watch.”

  “What?” Paige laughed. “What did he do?”

  “He stood cross-armed at the bottom of the staircase and frowned. It wasn’t until he heard them coming back that he made himself scarce. He blended in at the buffet until they passed, then followed them outside.”

  I pressed a palm to my tummy as an irrational bout of guilt and anxiety swept through me. Nothing had happened, but it looked completely scandalous. The whole district was probably talking. “Would you like to see the tutus, Mrs. Neidermeyer?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great.” I stepped around the counter to meet her. “Come on back. I’ve got them pressed and ready for inspection.”

  I led her to the storeroom and waved a hand at the rack of custom tutus. “I added little bodysuits to keep the skirts in place. What do you think?”

  She fished glasses from her bag and pushed them over her snub nose. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” She unclipped the first tutu from its hanger and inspected the hem. Stretchy black-and-white chevron bodysuits topped an abundance of bunched, hot-pink tulle. “Nice tight stitching.” She turned the material over in her palms and rubbed it between her thumb and first finger. “Not too scratchy for their tummies. That’s good. They’ll fuss and chew if it’s uncomfortable.” She handed the skirt to me. “I like the rhinestones at the collars and cuffs. Very nice touches. Stage lighting will work wonders with those. When can you come by and fit my girls?”

  I turned the costume belly-side up and demonstrated the closure. “The elastic and Velcro makes them the perfect size for any pet.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She snagged her glasses off her nose. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t do fittings? I’m sorry. Are you a custom designer or the buyer for Kmart?”

  I sucked air. “Kmart?” Flies and honey, Lacy. I gathered my pageant voice and forced a congenial smile. “You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Neidermeyer. I’d be glad to measure your girls for these one-size-fits-all ensembles. When’s the next time they’ll be together?”

  “Forty-five minutes. Bring the costumes and whatever you need to make adjustments. Don’t dawdle.”

  She dismissed me with the flick of her hand and abandoned me in a cloud of frustration and high-end perfume.

  I rolled the rack of tutus into the studio and set the box of leg warmers on the counter.

  “Whatcha doing?” Paige asked.

  “I’ve got to go to Mrs. Neidermeyer’s dance studio and measure the Shih Tzus. I’ll be back in time to close up, but I may take the rest of the day and run the llama leg warmers to Mrs. Hams’s plantation.”

  I loaded the tutus into an extralarge garment box and set the box of Mrs. Hams’s leg warmers on top.

  “No problem. This place is dead. I’ll text you if anything comes up.”

  “Great. Have lunch delivered and leave me the bill.” I hefted the boxes under one arm, lugged my purse over the opposite shoulder, and headed into the sunlight.

  Across the street, a lean man in dirty jeans crushed a cigarette beneath his shoe and glared at me. His grubby shirt matched the worn belt and boots. “All-American Construction” was written on his ball cap. Adam. The guy Miguel had beaten in a few rounds of high-dollar billiards at Boondocks. The guy I’d splashed my drink on and the cops had hauled in for questioning.

  I swallowed hard and dropped into my car. Adam’s not lurking outside my store. All-American Construction is always on this street doing something at one of the shops. They’d released him after questioning because he wasn’t the culprit. I am safe. I brought my cell to life and considered calling Jack anyway. What if he hadn’t looked into Adam thoroughly?

  Before I finished dialing, a group of men in similar dress joined Adam on the curb. They opened paper bags from a local deli and passe
d the contents out.

  Adam pointed his sandwich at me.

  I hit the gas.

  The drive to Fancy Paws was riddled with traffic. I hit every light and spent the time circling unanswerable questions. Was Adam watching my store for a reason, or was it a coincidence his crew had chosen that deli for lunch? And, further back, how could I have escaped Levi Marks and avoided a lawsuit? What if I’d gone home where he was waiting for me instead of having dinner at the Barrel Room or staying for Mom’s party? The night could’ve ended unbelievably worse.

  What had been his plan? Where was he taking me last night when he tried to get in the car?

  I pulled into the parking lot at Fancy Paws and texted Mrs. Hams to let her know I’d deliver her order this afternoon.

  First, I needed to impress Mrs. Neidermeyer. Her approval could change everything for Furry Godmother. The Fancy Paw dancers headlined every canine show from here to Atlanta.

  I hauled the big box from my back seat and hip checked the door shut. I’d never measured an actual Shih Tzu, but according to my research, the elastic and Velcro I’d used would accommodate variations in their girth and hairstyles.

  Seven ten-pound dust mops met me excitedly at the door.

  Mrs. Neidermeyer brought up the rear. “Come in. Come in.” She stuffed two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Ladies!”

  The mops froze and turned to face her.

  Nine reflections of the two humans and seven dogs gazed back at us from mirror-covered walls. Spotlights shone down on the high-polished floors. Posters of dancing dogs and a pin board papered in flyers decorated the wall closest to the door. The studio schedule was four pages long and taped beside the pin board. Fancy Paws was the premiere location for every talented dog in the district. Bulldog Ballet had three time slots, all filled from the looks of the schedule.

  “Line up, ladies.” Mrs. Neidermeyer flicked her wrist, and the mops formed a row.

  I applauded. “That’s amazing.”

  “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet. The wooden waves and boat props will be here soon. We’re performing ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’ at the Animal Elegance gala.” Pride oozed from her words. “Let’s get the girls dressed and watch them work.”

  “All righty.” I wiggled the lid off my tutu box and examined the little dance troupe.

  Mrs. Neidermeyer stepped out of one shoe and rubbed her foot. “Where’s your assistant?”

  “I don’t have an assistant.”

  “What about the little girl at the register today?”

  I tugged my hair into a ponytail. “Paige isn’t a little girl. She’s twenty-one.”

  “Honey,” Mrs. Neidermeyer deadpanned, “I’ve got shoes older than that child. You need an assistant for things like this.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that under consideration.” She was right, of course, but I could barely afford Paige, and she worked for minimum wage. “Are you okay?” I watched her rub her heel and circle her ankle.

  “New shoes. I’m wearing them a bit day by day so I can wear them all day for Animal Elegance.”

  I recognized the Louboutins from the night before. I could buy a new wardrobe for what she’d paid for those shoes.

  “Do you need my help?” she asked.

  “Can you remove their collars and smooth their fur? I’ll slip the tutus on and check them for fit.”

  She rubbed her chin. “Or I could hand you the outfits and make notations for alterations.”

  “Who’s first?”

  “Laney.” Mrs. Neidermeyer bent a finger. “Come, darling.”

  A little brown-and-white mop with an I Dream of Genie ponytail pranced forward. She was clearly the belle of any ball and knew it.

  “Hello, pumpkin,” I cooed. “Let’s show them how to look fabulous.”

  Seven dogs and eighty-five minutes later, Mrs. Neidermeyer insisted I stay to see them perform before I left. She also insisted I help her disrobe the little starlets and rehang the costumes. On the upside, she accepted the garments as they were and wrote me a chubby check I could cash in the morning.

  By the time I dropped the leg warmers off with Mrs. Hams, the workday was done and so was Paige.

  She had her keys in hand when I walked through the shop door.

  “How did it go today?” I asked.

  “I sold some pawlines and a couple headscarves. Nothing exciting. Now I have a date with a bartender from Bourbon Cowboy. He’s going to let me ride the mechanical bull.”

  “Congratulations.”

  She spun her keys around one finger. “I’m meeting friends for coffee before my date. You want to come?”

  “No, but thanks. I’ve got to talk to Mom about those pianos.” I dropped my purse behind the counter and sifted through the messages. “These are all from Jack.”

  Paige pushed the door open with one hip and flipped the “Closed” sign for me. “I want to hear more about why you’re calling him by his first name now, but I guess I could stay and see for myself.”

  A familiar black pickup pulled against the curb outside.

  “No. You should go.” I tried to look boring and serious, but my insides fizzed and swirled with anticipation of what had caused Jack to leave four messages. Instinct and experience said it couldn’t be anything good.

  Paige waved Jack inside. “Have fun.” She strode into the evening sunlight like the debutante she knew she was.

  I gripped the counter and prepared for bad news.

  Jack turned the dead bolt. “Did you get my messages?”

  “These?” I lifted the little pile of papers. “Yes. About two minutes ago. What’s wrong?” The urge to panic tightened every fiber in my body. “Wait. Am I jumping to conclusions? This could be good news. You wanted to deliver it in person and see my happy face when you told me.”

  “What kind of good news?”

  “Like you’ve connected Levi directly to Miguel’s murder, and I can call Mr. Tater and get my business back on track.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Then you matched fingerprints recovered after my home invasion to ones found here, and they all belong to Levi.”

  “Nope.” He latched his hands behind his back. “Technically, you had a break-in, not a home invasion. However, we got the results back from both, and all the prints belonged to you.”

  I waved the messages at him. “You called four times to tell me you found nothing significant? A-plus detective work.” I mentally collapsed. “Why didn’t you call my cell phone?”

  “Paige said you were on the road, and I didn’t want you to take the call while driving.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “It’s the law.”

  “I wasn’t in my car the entire day.”

  He waved his hands between us and admitted, “I thought I should tell you in person. I called to see when you were here so I could stop by. You didn’t call back so I took a shot stopping by at closing time.”

  “What’s so important you wanted to tell me in person?”

  He ambled to the counter. “Traces of cornstarch were found on the light switches at your home, in your stock room, and on the glitter sprayer.”

  I wrinkled my brows. “Cornstarch?” I glanced at the bakery display. “I don’t use cornstarch.”

  “No, but cornstarch is often found in latex gloves. It makes them easier to put on.”

  I worked that information around in my head. “My gloves don’t have that.”

  “I know. The lab tested one found here after Miguel was killed, and I confirmed your standing order online for monthly shipments of that same glove.”

  I bit the insides of my cheeks. Having my life picked through was unsettling and felt a little like betrayal. Then again, he didn’t know me then, and I had been a sensible suspect, all things considered. “So we know the same person who destroyed my studio also killed Miguel and broke into my home, but you can’t prove it was Levi.”

  “Correct.”

  “Levi’s still head
ed back to jail for holding me at gunpoint and trying to abduct me. Even if he isn’t charged with the break-ins, he’s out of my life, right?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong?”

  Sadness pinched my heart. “I wanted Sunshine and her baby to get justice. If we can’t pin the murder to Levi, they won’t have the peace of knowing someone paid for taking Miguel from them.”

  Jack erased the space between us in slow, steady strides. Concern pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “This is why I wanted to talk to you in person. Sunshine and her baby might still get justice.”

  “What do you mean?” I backtracked through the facts he’d delivered. “If there weren’t any prints, but you know the same gloves were used by Levi in the break-ins and the murder, isn’t that enough to charge him?”

  Jack leveled me with a powerful stare. “There were no traces of cornstarch on Levi’s hands or the clothes he ditched in your parents’ linen closet before dressing as part of the waitstaff.”

  “That doesn’t make him innocent. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  “We located the abandoned home where he’s squatting in the Lower Ninth Ward. There weren’t any latex gloves there either. No traces of cornstarch.”

  I backed up until my heels hit the wall. “He probably threw them away.” I pressed my palms to the cool surface for support. “He’s a career criminal. He’s smart.” The words rang false on my tongue. Nothing about Levi was remotely smart. He acted on impulse and used drugs. He didn’t have the patience or self-discipline to sit and wait for anything. Whoever stabbed my tire, carved into my floor, and broke into my house liked the chase. The psycho enjoyed playing cat and mouse.

  “I think there’s another party at play.”

  My knees buckled, but I managed to stay upright with the help of the wall. “Adam was outside the studio today. His crew from All-American Construction was having lunch across the street, but when I first went out to my car, it was only him. Staring.” I shook my hands out at the wrists, recalling the fear his presence had incited.

  Jack’s expression went flat. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “No. He stared. He pointed his sandwich at me.”

  “And you . . . ?” he prompted.