Cat Got Your Diamonds

by Chase, Julie;

  “Why not?” I said. “If I wanted stolen diamonds, I wouldn’t want to break into a jewelry store. They have tons of security. I’d find out who was stealing jewels and then rob him. It’s not like the thief could go to the cops. If Miguel had already hidden the jewels, then the killer might’ve come back the other night to look for the jewels. I didn’t know to look for hidden jewels in my stockroom, or else I might’ve found them.”

  A long pause stretched between us.

  “Or,” he finally added, “maybe whatever Miguel stole is still there.”

  I dropped my head back. Recognition dawned. “Oh my goodness. I know where the jewels could be.” There was one place I hadn’t looked. I’d been too busy. “Can you find out what Mr. Tater reported stolen?”

  “Depends. Can you tell me where to look?”

  I pushed the crystals aside and went to look out the window. “How’s the storm?”

  “Getting better. Why?”

  “I want you to meet me at Furry Godmother in twenty minutes.”

  Jack groaned. “Why don’t I stop by and get the key from you, and you can tell me where to look.”

  “No. I want to look.”

  “You’re safer where you are,” he grouched. “Why are you determined to get hurt on my watch?”

  “This isn’t about you. I want to see for myself. If I’m wrong, I’ll feel stupid. If I’m right, I want to celebrate.”

  “Someone still wants to hurt you. Stay put and I’ll video chat you from the store. You’ll be able to see everything I see from the safety of your parents’ fortress.”

  “No.”

  Silence. “Lacy.”

  “Jack.” I imagined him rubbing the skin off his forehead.

  “Fine, but I have conditions.”

  “Bring it.”

  “First, I’ve got another stop to make before I can meet you. I need you to wait an hour before you leave your parents’ house, or you have to let me pick you up.”

  “No. I’ll meet you in an hour.” A coil of anticipation turned in my tummy.

  “I shouldn’t have expected you to take the better option. Fine, but if you drive yourself, you have to agree not to get out of your car until you see me. In fact, don’t shut down your engine until you see me. Drive away if anyone approaches you. Understand?”

  “Yes.” I stomped my feet in silent victory. If I were right, he’d see I was valuable to this case and smart. I’d redeem my family name when a positive article printed in the paper. Assuming they didn’t accuse me of planting the jewels so I could pretend to find them.

  “I mean it,” Jack rattled on. “Don’t leave your parents’ house for an hour, and don’t get out of your car at the studio without me present.”

  I nodded at the empty room. “Fine. I agree.”

  “Lacy?” There was a new strain in his voice.

  “Yeah?” I barely endured the pause. My muscles tensed and itched with anxiety.

  “We know who killed Miguel.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Hayden. We ran down all our leads after talking with her, but nothing panned out. Every alibi fell apart. We searched her apartment and found a stack of photos of Miguel. She’s been following him for weeks. There were intimate pictures of him and Sunshine. It was ugly. She had a truckload of motive, and we pulled a string of escalating e-mails between her and Miguel from her computer. She’d threatened Sunshine and the baby more than once in an effort to control him.”

  Panic crushed my chest. “Is anyone with Sunshine right now?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got her at the station until we bring Hayden in.”

  I released a shaky breath. “Hayden could’ve followed Miguel into the alley and confronted him or just followed him to hurt him somewhere there weren’t any witnesses.” Hayden had followed her cheating boyfriend into my store after hours. “The clerk at Frozen Banana said she was a regular, and someone assaulted my store window the day after Miguel was killed.” That had definitely been her smoothie on my window. “Maybe there’s security video footage of her from Frozen Banana or another camera on the block.”

  “We’re already pulling footage from that night, and we’re canvassing the city for her now. Wherever she is, you don’t want to run into her. She’s not stable.”

  “I’ll meet you in an hour.” I disconnected and busied myself clearing the adorable assembly line on my parents’ table. Cleaning was something I’d always found soothing but had fallen short on a few tasks this week. Clean dishes were still not unloaded from the dishwasher. Laundry overflowed my hamper. I also hadn’t made time to clean the turtle tank, and that beautiful lagoon of glass marbles could easily hide a plastic pouch of diamonds. I knew Brad and Angelina could have cracked the case if they could talk.

  My phone buzzed on the table. Mrs. Neidermeyer’s number appeared on the screen.

  Your tutus are falling apart. Get over here right now and fix this!

  I responded with slight indignation. What did she do? Put them back on the dogs after I left? I’d rehung them, personally.

  Me: I have somewhere to be in an hour. Can I stop by in the morning?

  Mrs. Neidermeyer: Absolutely not. We have an eight AM dress rehearsal. You will come now.

  Jeez. I slung my purse on one shoulder and checked the time. I was in the middle of my own crisis at the moment.

  On my way.

  The tutus could wait, but Animal Elegance was the biggest performance of the year for Mrs. Neidermeyer. It was a huge deal to her, so I needed to make time to care. If I picked the tutus up on my way to meet Jack, I could bring them back with me tonight and make the adjustments. I’d deliver them early in the morning with coffee and a smile.

  Dad blocked the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. A deep scowl wrinkled his usually pleasant face. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “Out. I won’t be long. I’m meeting Jack at Furry Godmother.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “I’m following a hunch.”

  “Why isn’t he picking you up? The weather’s awful.”

  “I insisted.”

  Thankfully, he relented his position as jailer and stepped away. “Don’t go inside the shop without him.”

  I frowned. “You, too?”

  “Always. Be careful. Let me know how it goes. Call when you get there so I know you’re safe.”

  “Deal.” I slid around him. I could’ve told him about Hayden, but I didn’t have time. Mrs. Neidermeyer was already sure to hold me up.

  He crooked an arm around my neck and kissed my forehead. “I mean it. Call or I’ll worry.”

  “Yes, sir.” I kissed his cheek and hurried into the storm.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Furry Godmother’s words of warning: The Good Ship Lollipop is a misnomer. And an earworm.

  I parked beside Mrs. Neidermeyer’s convertible in the lot at Fancy Paws. My wipers flopped back and forth at warp speed, unable to make a dent in the river coursing over my windshield. The storm had eased for a few minutes when I’d left the house only to rush back to life with fervor before I hit Prytania. Luckily, I was one of the few people crazy enough to be on the road. Storms in Louisiana came on fast and rough, though they normally subsided as quickly as they erupted. This one was hanging on like a bad omen.

  The Fancy Paws lot was desolate. Mrs. Neidermeyer’s white Beamer sat near the rear entrance. Every light in the building was on. I admired her dedication. It made me glad to be a part of her brand. When the Fancy Paws dancers pranced onto the stage in my tutus, spectators would associate me with her and vice versa. A partnership like that was priceless no matter how much she made me work for it.

  I sent a quick text to Jack.

  At Fancy Paws to pick up tutus. Headed to Furry Godmother next.

  It had taken longer than I’d planned to make the trip to Fancy Paws, and I wasn’t convinced she’d let me grab the costumes and run. It was more likely that she’d insist I make the changes before leaving.
Hopefully the adjustments would be nothing significant. The supplies I’d used for her pieces were at the studio. Maybe I wouldn’t be late getting to Furry Godmother after all. As long as she didn’t blame me for whatever had her so upset, I would be okay. The problem had to be something she’d caused. The costumes were perfect when I’d left earlier.

  My phone screeched the Psycho shower scene theme. I debated not answering, but with Penelope on the line, I had little choice. “Hello, Pete.”

  “I can’t believe you, Lacy!” he seethed. “You can collect your damn cat from the airport in the morning. I’m glad to be rid of her.”

  Emotions went up like fireworks in my mind. She was coming to me! In the morning! “Which airline?”

  “Delta. I put her on the first flight out. I hope the plane’s four hours late.”

  “Fine.” I’d cheerfully wait forever. “Thank you.”

  “Whatever. Thank your hard-nosed attorney. He made the arrangements and sent her airplane ticket along with a letter threatening to expose me if she wasn’t on the plane. How dare you tell him about my lab? I could lose my job over that!”

  I pressed a palm to my mouth. He meant the time I’d caught him and his other woman enthusiastically christening the entire room. I’d never intended to tell anyone about that humiliating nightmare, but it slipped out to Scarlet in a deluge of tears and desperation.

  “Good riddance,” he yelled.

  “Hey! It was supposed to be a clean lab, Pete. People expect their results to be accurate, not tainted by your body fluids and skin cells.” I opened my car door and stepped into the blustery night. “I’ll be at the airport tomorrow morning. Penelope had better be on that plane and in the same perfect condition as when I left her.” I disconnected and jammed the phone into my pocket. The elation of victory overcame me. If Penelope was on that plane tomorrow, Chase was getting the kiss of his lifetime.

  I texted him and Scarlet quick praises as I hustled toward the building. Loose flyers and debris skimmed across the wet parking lot, catching on telephone poles, trees, and shrubs along the building. I splashed through tiny rivers twisting across the asphalt. My shoes, socks, and feet were soaked before I reached the door.

  The wind was frightening. I thrust the entrance to Fancy Paws open and dragged it shut behind me. I stomped sopping shoes against the welcome mat. “Knock knock.” I shook my arms and hands, flinging raindrops over the floor. “Oops.” If I were lucky, she wouldn’t make me mop it up before leaving. “Hello?”

  “On the Good Ship Lollipop” played on hidden speakers, giving the bright studio a lively feel. The Shih Tzus had looked fantastic prancing on their hind paws and spinning in little lines earlier. I should have stayed longer to see what happened after a couple rounds in the new ensembles.

  Plenty had changed in the few hours I was gone. A dozen wooden stage props cluttered the floor. Stumpy waves on wheeled carriages stood among pinwheels of jumping fish and random nautical props: A boat. Oars. Life preservers. The little boat had a broad deck, pink ramp, and plenty of giant, foam gumdrops. A sign strung between two four-foot candy canes showcased the words Good Ship Lollipop in bright, chunky letters.

  The tutus hung in a neat row near the window, swinging gently from their pint-sized rolling rack. Right where I’d left them.

  I shifted my weight and squished a small puddle from my shoes. “Mrs. Neidermeyer? I don’t want to ruin your floor.” I leaned in the direction of her open office door and projected my voice. “Mrs. Neidermeyer?”

  The bathroom door was open. It seemed to be the only room in the building that didn’t have a light on.

  Maybe she couldn’t hear me over the music?

  I stepped carefully onto the high-polished floor, accepting my fate. I wasn’t going anywhere until I dried the gallon of water pouring from my hair and shoes. “Mrs. Neidermeyer?” I hustled to the stereo and turned the peppy tune down to a soft drone. “Are you here?”

  She wouldn’t have left the studio with all the lights on.

  She wasn’t in the bathroom. Her car was in the lot.

  I turned in a small circle, surveying the possibilities. Maybe she was in the office. I tiptoe ran across the floor feeling awful. She was probably on the phone and unable to answer me. Meanwhile, I was in the studio yelling like a child.

  I slid to a stop several feet before the office door, lingering in my self-made puddle.

  The red soles of Christian Louboutins came into view. “Oh no.” I stepped closer, hoping her shoes were cast off and not attached to the rest of her.

  A gasp flew from my lips. Mrs. Neidermeyer was face down on the faux sandpaper beach behind the Good Ship. Her face was bloody, as if she’d fallen flat on her nose. Her legs were splayed in a less-than-ladylike manner.

  “Oh my goodness.” I yanked the phone from my purse and swiped it to life. I ran to her side and visually evaluated her condition. Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths. No gashes, extensive bruising, or obvious injuries. “Mrs. Neidermeyer? Did you fall? Can you hear me?” I tapped her cheeks and checked her pulse. She was knocked out. Probably fine, but better safe than sorry.

  I twisted for a look at the situation around her. Did she have low blood sugar? Trip on a prop? Fall off the Good Ship? I brought the keypad up on my phone and hovered a thumb over the nine-one-one speed dial. “I’m calling an ambulance. We’ll let the paramedics come to us. I don’t want to move you, and the roads are a mess.”

  Thunder cracked and white lightning flashed outside, illuminating the dark world beyond her studio windows. Then splintering pain coursed through my skull and my world went black.

  I woke to the dreaded refrain of Shirley Temple. I hated the Good Ship and everyone on it. I hated everything because everything I had hurt. My head felt like someone had mistaken it for a piñata. My eyes pulsed with pain. I pressed them shut and fought for comprehension. What happened? Did I fall?

  My arms and shoulders were immobile. My wrists burned. My legs were heavy and nonresponsive.

  I blinked the hazy world into focus with sheer force of will and took a personal inventory. I was seated on the floor and slumped uncomfortably forward. My wrists ached because they were bound behind me with heavy rope from the beach display. No wonder my arms wouldn’t move.

  I needed medical attention. My left shoulder was likely out of its socket, and I probably had a concussion. I peered through blurry eyes at my feet, tied at the ankles like an ugly mermaid tail. An unconscious Mrs. Neidermeyer lay inches away, breathing on my shoes. We were surrounded by ocean props and relentless speakers blaring that heinous song.

  Thunder rocked the building, and nausea rolled in my gut. I definitely had a concussion.

  I pointed and flexed my feet, wiggling the rope loose like Dad had shown me on endless camping trips. I tapped Mrs. Neidermeyer’s head softly with the soles of my wet shoes. “Hey.” My throat was dry and gravelly. “Wake up.”

  I raised my eyes and searched for clues. Was I dreaming? Was this real?

  The cuffs on a pair of dress slacks came into view. Shiny, black shoes anchored the pants. “Good. You aren’t dead.” Mr. Tater’s voice intruded on my nightmare. He squatted, and his face swam into view.

  Thank goodness!

  “Mr. Tater.” I pried my sticky tongue off the roof of my mouth. “Help. Help us. My phone is . . .” Where was my phone? It was in my hand a minute ago. Wasn’t it? I forced a bottleneck of thoughts into order. “I dialed nine-one-one. There’s help on the way. Did you see who did this? Was there another car in the lot when you arrived?” I wiggled against the ropes on my wrists. “Untie me, please!”

  He shook his head in sad rejection.

  A spear of pain sliced through my forehead. “Wait a minute. Why are you here?” What would bring him to Fancy Paws in a storm?

  He wiggled my phone in one hand. The keypad was still on the screen. “You didn’t make your call for help. No one’s on the way. The storm is loud. The music’s loud. You are alone. With me.”


  “What?” I squinted to see him in the blinding studio light. Two versions of Mr. Tater swam before me. “Help us.” The words were a strangled mix of pain, fear, and confusion.

  “Absolutely.” He stood with a grunt. “First, give me my diamonds.”

  “Your what?”

  Mrs. Neidermeyer released a low, anguished groan at my feet.

  I ached to help her, but my hands were literally tied. My rattled brain strained to make sense of the situation. I squinted up at Mr. Tater. “Did you do this to us?” The truth fell slowly into position. “You sent those texts from Mrs. Neidermeyer’s phone. She didn’t demand I come here. You did.”

  Mr. Tater slid a grinchy smile across his spray-tanned face. He produced her bedazzled flip phone from his pants pocket. “Now you’re catching up.”

  “You could’ve killed her! How long has she been like that?” I wiggled my wrists against the pain. “I knew my tutus wouldn’t fall apart.” I made my most fierce face. “Let me go. She needs help.”

  Mr. Tater swung his chin left and right with an expression doubly as frightening as anything I could manage. “First, the diamonds.”

  “I don’t have your diamonds. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He clomped his shoe against the floorboards. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Miguel left the jewels with you, and I want them back.”

  “Miguel’s dead.” I scooted against the prop behind me, forcing my body into a proper seated position and levering my hands off the floor. “He didn’t give me anything. The police thought I killed him.”

  “Stop lying!”

  I longed to grip my head against his booming voice. Every move I made sent knives through my shoulder. “I don’t have your diamonds. If I had them, I would’ve returned them to you. Why would I keep something that doesn’t belong to me?” I bent my legs, prying as much of myself as possible off the floor.

  “Oh, right,” He hacked another laugh that made my ears ring. “Why would anyone keep diamonds that didn’t belong to them?” He dropped back into a squat before me and pressed one corner of my phone to his temple. “Why? Why? Why?” he growled.