“I don’t have your diamonds.” I winced as the decibel of my voice sent shrapnel through my head. The move jerked my tender shoulder, and I cursed.
His face knotted in anger. “I saw Miguel in your store that afternoon. I know you spoke to him. I know you were in on it. What was your cut?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tears formed in my eyes and raced down both cheeks.
He scratched his head and huffed a small, humorless sound. “At first, I thought it was an unfortunate coincidence. I believed your gung-ho, solve-the-crime, save-my-store act. I worried you might dig too far in my direction, so I left you a note to knock it off before you forced my hand. Do you know how difficult that was for me? I don’t want to have to do this.”
“Then don’t,” I sniffled. “Don’t do this.”
He lifted and dropped his hands at his sides. “I combed your store, Lacy. Every box, every shelf. No jewels. At first, I was so confused. How could they be gone? Where could they go? Where could they be?”
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Tater groaned and rapped the phone against my pounding head. “You’ve had them all along. He gave them to you, and you hid them for him. I know what that pet shop of yours makes every month. It can’t possibly keep you at the standard of living you’re accustomed too. It was only a matter of time before you looked elsewhere for cash.”
I rolled the back of my head against the stout, wooden prop.
“Answer me!”
“No. It’s not true. I never had them. I don’t even know what he stole.” I closed one eye to bring Mr. Tater into focus. “You wanted to distance yourself from me so I wouldn’t tarnish your name. Do you know how crazy I’ve been this week, scrambling to make enough money to cover my costs and a lease payment? You didn’t want to be associated with me. And now you’d kill two women over some stolen jewels? What’s wrong with you? You have insurance. Call them. File a report. They’ll replace your lost inventory. You know that. You’re a businessman.”
He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “You still don’t get it. Where do you think my jewels come from? The diamond store? You think I buy all my merchandise legitimately and still make a killing in a town like this? Don’t be daft; it doesn’t suit you.”
I tried opening my other eye and failed. He was off his rocker, and I needed a plan. I worked my feet back and forth, wiggling and scrubbing the rope against itself, loosening the ties.
“Tell me where those jewels are, and I’ll let you live.”
“I have no idea where jewels come from.” I pressed my back to the prop behind me, hoping it was less sturdy than it looked. “None of them. Not yours. Not Tiffany’s. I make pet costumes.”
He looked at the ceiling. “Have you heard the expression ‘Pride cometh before a fall’? Miguel had too much pride. We had a deal, and he got greedy. He supplemented my collection with gems from his heists, and I paid generously. I reset the stones into my original pieces and no one was any the wiser until he came down here asking for more money. He robbed every jeweler in the district, including me.”
Robbed by his personal burglar. Maybe karma was real. “You sell stolen jewels? What was Miguel? A freelance thief?”
“Close enough. Now I have to find another one, all because he wanted to cash in and run off with that girl.”
If Hayden had threatened to hurt Sunshine and their baby, like Jack said, Miguel must’ve felt trapped. Hayden was stalking him. He had to get out. My heart broke all over again, for the three of them this time. Sunshine, Miguel, and their baby. I squinted sore eyes at Mr. Tater. “Everyone thinks you’re a great businessman. You’re a fraud. You’re no better than Miguel. And now this?” I motioned to Mrs. Neidermeyer. “What were you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’m tired of being jerked around. I sell a few stolen jewels. So what? They aren’t enough to draw attention. I use the extra money to bankroll new investments. Like yours. I give back to the economy. That’s called business savvy.”
I nodded in faux agreement. “Shame on you.”
My phone dinged with a new text. He turned it to face me before dropping it beside my leg and smashing his heel into it. Jack’s selfie shattered. “Enough. I’m tired, and the storm won’t last forever.” He pulled a revolver from beneath his suit jacket. “I need to finish this while the storm’s going, so talk.”
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. “How’d you know Miguel kept the jewels so he could leave with Sunshine?”
“I followed him all day after I spotted him in your store. When he went inside that night, I started after him, but a woman beat me through the door. I entered next and heard them out back.” He switched to a high-pitched voice and made a whiny face. “‘You never loved me. You can’t leave me. You lied to me. Why are you doing this?’” He waved the gun in circles, as if the whole thing was ridiculous. “Eventually, it got quiet, and I opened the back door. Miguel was dead, and the woman was gone. Imagine my surprise when the cops showed up a few minutes later with you.” His expression turned grim. “Last chance. Where did you put my diamonds?”
Tater shoved the gun closer to me.
A new idea sparked in my broken head. “Fine. You got me. I’ll show you where I hid the jewels. Untie me, and I’ll take you to them.” Hopefully I was right about the turtle tank. Even if I wasn’t, a car ride would buy me thinking time.
He tipped his head over one shoulder. “Where?”
“They’re at my store.” Where he would also find a very annoyed detective. “I’ll show you.” The knot behind my feet finally gave way, and I stilled.
“Liar!” Mr. Tater screamed, spittle flying into the air.
Panic pried at my brain. He was going to shoot me. What if I died tonight? What a stupid way to die. “Let me show you,” I pleaded.
“I’ve already searched your store. The jewels aren’t there and you know it!” He pulled the revolver’s hammer back with his thumb. “Tell me the truth or she gets the first bullet.” He swung the gun’s barrel toward Mrs. Neidermeyer’s head and inched closer, dropping into a crouch at her side. “Come on,” he taunted. “Be a hero. I know you want to.” He pressed the gun to her temple and looked at me. “Where. Are. My. Jewels?” Each word was a sentence. Each pause was a countdown.
I tensed my muscles and braced myself against the prop. “I. Don’t. Know.” In one excruciating move, I kicked my feet into the air and brought them down on his neck.
He cried out, tipping forward and grabbing his head with one hand.
I pulled my knees to my chest and pushed both feet into his face. They connected with a thud.
His neck snapped back, and he bounced against the floorboards. The gun skittered and thumped against the wall.
“Yes!” I scrambled to my feet, head pounding, eyes crossing, and stomach churning. The prop attached to my ropes slid down my back and fell away, drawn by gravity and aided by slightly loosened ropes. I bit my lip to squelch a scream and hurried to Mrs. Neidermeyer’s side. I shoved her with my foot. Hard. “Wake up! Get up! Wake up!”
Mr. Tater moaned and rolled onto his back.
The gun was on the other side of him, and my hands were still tied behind my back. I couldn’t hide. I couldn’t use a doorknob or phone. He’d smashed my phone!
Mr. Tater rolled onto his side and grabbed his nose. Blood rushed over his lips and colored his teeth. “I’m going to kill you!”
I kicked his gun away and scrambled through the open office door, shoving it shut behind me. I pressed my back to the door and turned the lock on the knob with my fumbling fingertips.
The scent of burnt coffee and old paper overtook me. There was no other way out. No windows. I was trapped. I scanned the area for a weapon. I needed an envelope opener or another way to free my hands.
An enormous, tan rectangle in the corner caught my attention. The little black squares and spiral phone cord called to me like the savior that it was.
I jumped backward onto the
desk and screamed as my left arm jostled and bounced against my side.
I leaned forward, craning my bound hands to reach the receiver. If I could unhook the phone, I could dial 9-1-1.
Outside the door, Mrs. Neidermeyer screamed.
“Come on,” I cried. I swatted through the pain, aiming but missing the phone behind me.
“I warned you!” Mr. Tater’s voice cut through the hollow office door.
“Please let her be okay,” I whispered.
A gunshot exploded before I finished the prayer.
My ears rang, and I heaved onto the floor. My teeth chattered painfully.
An ugly sob shook my body. My fingers connected with the receiver behind me, and it rattled off the cradle and onto the desk.
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you.” One, two, three. I counted the rows of buttons with my fingertips and pushed. “Nine.” Back up. One. Two. “One. One.” Tears fell over my face in hot, wet sheets.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a tinny voice lifted from the receiver.
“Help!” I screamed, suddenly overcome with desperation. “We’re at Fancy Paws dance studio. There’s a man with a gun.”
The office door burst open, and Mr. Tater walked in. The fingers of one hand were knotted deep in Mrs. Neidermeyer’s hair.
Mascara blackened her cheeks. Lipstick smeared her chin and jawbone. Blood clung to her nose and upper lip. Awful sounds gurgled from her twisted mouth. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
He pressed the gun to her ribs with his free hand. “Shut. Up.”
The storm drummed to a crescendo on the roof, flickering the lights and stopping my heart.
Mr. Tater stepped forward, leaving a trembling Mrs. Neidermeyer behind him. He lifted the gun toward me. “Last chance.”
I dug deep for any semblance of composure and channeled my mother. “No, Mr. Tater,” I corrected. “It’s your last chance to run before you’re arrested. I’ve dialed nine-one-one.” I tipped my head slightly, indicating the phone receiver at my hip. “They’re on their way, and they’re recording every word. If you leave now, you can avoid a murder charge and maybe get out of town before they find you.”
His crazed eyes flicked to the phone. “You’re bluffing.”
I tented my eyebrows. “I’m not, but it’s your call. Waste some more time. Kill me before you go and never see freedom again, or make a run for it and maybe disappear before the police get here.”
Beads of sweat lined his brow and upper lip. Rage and fear colored his face.
I thought of my parents. I’d promised Dad I’d call so he’d know I was safe. I’d never lied to my dad before. The weight of all I’d put my mother through crashed over me. I owed her more than I could repay. I’d never been as happy as I had been since moving home. I closed my eyes and sent loving thoughts to my folks.
I opened them again to see Jack step into view outside the office door, inches behind Mrs. Neidermeyer.
Tater’s hand and gun shook. “If I’m going down, I’m taking the witnesses with me.”
I worked up a cocky smirk. “Too late.”
Jack set a hand on Mrs. Neidermeyer’s shoulder, presumably to usher her away. She released a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed.
Tater spun in her direction.
“It’s over,” Jack said. “Put the gun down.”
Gun shots erupted. Two in quick succession.
I released a wild, regretful cry. My ears rang and my vision blurred.
Mr. Tater staggered backward into the tiny office and sprawled onto the floor at my feet.
Jack appeared before me. His strong hands wrapped my cheeks, and his wide, calloused thumbs stroked the hollows beneath my eyes. His voice caressed my frantic heart. “It’s going to be okay.”
I cried louder. The chatter in my teeth spread to my limbs, and I vibrated with shock and excess adrenaline. “Mr. Tater bought stolen jewels from Miguel. He broke into my store. He left the note on my tire. He saw Hayden at Furry Godmother that night.”
Jack paid no attention to my rambling. He prodded my skin with gentle fingers. “Is your arm broken?”
I shook my head. “My shoulder’s dislocated.”
He untied my wrists and rubbed them gently. He lifted the receiver on the desk. “Hello? This is Detective Jack Oliver.”
I forced my attention to the dark-crimson stain spreading toward us over the office floor.
Jack put the old receiver on the cradle and took my hand in his. “This is going to hurt like hell.” He braced himself and pulled my arm until the furious pain in my shoulder released with a snap.
“Ah!” I screamed. He pulled me against his chest. “You’re supposed to count me down or wait for the paramedics,” I sobbed against his shoulder. “Are you trying to kill me or save me?”
Jack leaned away and curved my arm against my tummy to stabilize the shoulder. “I’m saving you.”
He bumped the body at his feet with the toe of his boot. “He’ll live. I only gave him a flesh wound. I want him to stand trial.”
“What about Mrs. Neidermeyer?”
“She fainted. I tapped her shoulder, and she went down like a bag of bricks.”
I laughed. “Ow.” I squinted. “I’m concussed.”
Jack moved confident fingers through my hair and over my scalp, evaluating the report. “You know I told you to stay home, right?”
I flinched when he found a tender spot. “Really? You’re blaming this on me?”
“If the tutu fits.”
Outside, the distant whir of sirens cut through the wind and rain.
I tried to still my rattling teeth. “Thank you for saving me.”
“No problem. Besides, you saved yourself. I was on my way here to yell at you after I got your text about making a pit stop. I called first, but you didn’t answer, and I assumed the worst. Then I heard the nine-one-one dispatcher sending units to this address.”
“Tater had my phone. He smashed it. What about Hayden? Did you find her?”
“We’ve got Hayden in custody. She admitted to the murder almost immediately. It was an accident. A crime of passion.”
I held back a body-shaking sob and sought something good to think about while EMTs loaded Mr. Tater onto a gurney. “Pete’s giving my cat back. I’m picking her up at the airport tomorrow morning.”
Jack frowned. “I don’t think you should be driving for a few days.”
“I’ll call a cab.” Or Dad, or Scarlet, or Imogene, or Chase.
“I’ll drive you.”
Or Jack. I pulled in a deep breath. I had people. “Oh.” I set my palm against Jack’s stubbled cheek. “I didn’t ask about you. Tater tried to shoot you.” I wiped tears from my face and did my best to look strong. “Are you okay?”
He made a sour face. “Haven’t you heard? I’m indestructible.”
I laughed. “Ow.” I removed my hand from his cheek and used it to hold my head together.
He placed his hand over mine. “I didn’t expect to shoot anyone tonight. I haven’t done that in ages.”
“Yeah? Well, stick with me,” I muttered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Furry Godmother’s fashion tip: Cover your assets.
Three weeks later, the Animal Elegance gala was packed with the district’s crème de la crème. It was a swanky red-carpet event with paparazzi and caterers galore. Local news crews had arrived hours ahead of time, along with reporters from pet advocacy groups, the Humane Society, and a few naked protesters who thought animals in costumes qualified as abuse. I’d been on my feet for twelve hours and in heels for eight. I needed a shower, jammies, and a soft bed. I’d been awake for more than a day, and my fantasies all boiled down to sleep. Too bad that when given the opportunity to sleep, my mind chose to replay the events of the night Mr. Tater tried to kill me. Even all this time later, it still hurt to brush my hair. Luckily, I had Penelope to talk to when I couldn’t sleep. True to his word, Pete had put her on a plane, and Jack t
ook me to pick her up. Life was infinitely better with her at my side. She was exactly what I needed to heal.
I swept my long curls over one shoulder and dropped fresh ice cubes in a line of crystal water dishes for any remaining party pets. Mrs. Neidermeyer’s Shih Tzus were a hit, but they’d all gone home immediately after their performance. I caught a look at poor Mrs. Neidermeyer as they danced. She apparently felt the same way I did about the Good Ship Lollipop now. When the song finally ended, I’d exhaled ten pounds of tension and went for a glass of water. She wasn’t far behind.
The tutus held up well and got plenty of nods. So many, in fact, that I was out of business cards by dinner.
A round of applause drifted through the walls. The keynote speaker must have finished. He represented the American Kennel Club, and I’d wanted to hear his ideas on pet health and nutrition, but being a one-woman company wasn’t easy. Thank goodness for family and free labor. I had plenty of both by the names of Dr. and Mrs. Crocker and our dear friend Imogene.
The trio ducked into the private room single file.
“There you are.” Mom had an empty silver tray. “We need more of everything and some business cards.”
I topped the bowls off with fresh water and tossed the empty bottles into my recycle tote. “I’m out.” I showed her my palms, then dropped them to my sides. The gesture was one I used with pets to assure them there were no more treats.
Mom gave me a narrowed stare. Her floor-length Elie Saab gown hung in layers of chiffon and silk over vintage Gucci pumps. “How am I supposed to make a proper impression without the right tools?”
I touched my forehead. “How was the speaker?”
“He looked like Mable Feller’s bulldog. He’s too squat for a pale-gray suit and Harry Potter glasses.”
“I’d hoped to talk to him about my pawlines.” A twinge of disappointment curled in my chest.
Mom huffed. “That’s funny because everyone wants to talk to you about those.”
I toed red velvet pet beds into a circle and dropped a peanut butter cookie on each. “Thank you for all your help today, but you should go mingle. There’s no reason to spend the whole gala serving pet treats. Plus, we’re all out, so . . .” I made a shooing motion. “Go. Have fun.”
Cat Got Your Diamonds Page 25
