"Thank you, Mrs. Finley." Crush cut her off. "But it isn't my place to guard someone else's child. It's the mother's responsibility. Fathers bring home the bacon, and mothers cook it and rear the children. That's the way it's always been, and the way it should be. This show is meant simply to alert parents to the dangers of allowing their children to go unprotected, even with someone they think is harmless. I predict that other children will disappear. Mobile is in for a time of great sadness. And it's going to fall at the feet of women too busy to attend to their duties."
The telephone was ringing in the background, but Crush ignored it. "Now, on to another topic. Cats in the house. I wouldn't have believed it could be true, but I saw it with my own eyes today— a very exclusive party where a nasty, hairy cat was allowed to roam the premises. Yes, that's right. Cat hair in the food. Cat hair on the sofas. It was disgusting. And what's even more troubling, no one in the room seemed to notice but me.
"As we all know, cats are filthy, disagreeable animals that eat rodents. And that may be their only redeeming quality. They do eat rodents. But the cat isn't my topic of interest. It's the women who find it necessary to have cats. Do you see the link? Cats are feline power, feminine power. And women who view themselves as powerless like to pretend to have more power by owning cats. Now let's take this one step further and talk about men who own cats. Wow! Did you know that the author, Uncle Eugene, owns eight cats! Eight! And they live in the house with him. I've heard they eat at the table with him. He actually sets places for them."
Jennifer found her heart pounding with fury. She was tempted to turn the car around and drive straight to the radio station. Crush would be far more appealing with part of the antenna tower stuck through his black and evil heart. And she was just the woman to do it!
Just as she reached to turn off the car, she heard Crush pick up the telephone.
"Hello, Crush. This is Marvella Mayhem. I want to tell you that cats are superior creatures. I believe you dislike them because you realize they're much, much smarter than you are. You fear their feline abilities, their discriminating natures. As a fat little boy I imagine cats clawed you. See, cats don't care for sweaty, fat little hands."
Jennifer closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. She recognized Eugene Legander's voice— as, undoubtedly, did Crush. Eugene was only making matters worse, but it was just like him to call in and defend cats instead of himself.
"What kind of kook are you?" Crush asked. "You sound like a woman with a hormone imbalance. Maybe you should get a shot, or a patch, or maybe just go shave." He laughed and picked up the next telephone call.
Jennifer opened her eyes and had a feeling of trouble to come as she saw Mrs. Sharon Frost coming out of the police station in tears. She was being supported by two other women while her ex-husband trailed behind.
Obviously, Charles "J.P." Frost had not taken Mimi for the afternoon. She was actually missing.
Chapter Two
Jennifer sat at the wheel of the car as Mrs. Frost and her entourage, still trailed by Mr. Frost, passed by her car. The women were distraught, concern for Mimi evident in every utterance. Mr. Frost was grimly concerned and visibly angry.
"How could you allow her to ramble around the park alone?" he demanded of his wife's back.
"She wasn't alone. She was with Uncle Eugene," one of the women responded. "He loves Mimi. He'd never allow anything to happen to her."
"Then why isn't she at home? Or better yet, with me?"
"He said she told him she was going home," the woman responded, her own anger showing.
"The police should pick Eugene Legander up and bring him in for questioning," Mr. Frost continued.
"He's a kind man and he loves children." Sharon Frost turned to confront her ex-husband. "There's no evidence that he knows anything more about this."
"You were perfectly willing to tell the police that I'd kidnapped Mimi— without any evidence." J.P.'s anger was at the boiling point. "They came to my business and none-too gently brought me down here for questioning. Why is this writer person so different from me?"
"Because he's never been cruel to me, or anyone else," Sharon Frost pointed out before she turned and marched toward her car, her friends hustling to keep up. She turned back to fire another volley. "You threatened repeatedly to take her from me. You even said it in the courtroom. That's why you were picked up for questioning, Charles." She got in the car.
Jennifer sat, a silent witness to the painful domestic scene. Divorces were often difficult, especially where children were involved. The Frosts were no exception, apparently. Was it possible that Mimi had grown tired of having her parents fight over her and had hidden out somewhere? The little girl was a regular at Uncle Eugene's story hour, and Jennifer remembered her as a shy, retiring child with big blue eyes that were always too wide, always a little upset.
The idea that the little girl might be tucked away somewhere, frightened and alone, made Jennifer desperate to figure out a course of action, but there was really nothing she could do. The police had been notified. Wheels had been set in motion. Surely the child would turn up unharmed in the next few hours.
She got out of her car and went into the police station. A helpful sergeant explained that since Mimi had been missing only a few hours, the police had taken no official action, but unofficially the park and surrounding area had been thoroughly searched, and now officers were going door-to-door to question Mimi's friends. The hope was that she'd decided to visit a friend and had forgotten to tell her mother.
Although Jennifer was normally good at reading people's faces, the young sergeant kept his opinions carefully hidden. He was smooth, professional, and very reassuring.
"Could I see the page from Eugene Legander's book that was left with her ribbon?" Jennifer smiled, knowing that many times in the past her simple smile had worked wonders. It wasn't that she was flirtatious. Men simply liked her smile.
He hesitated, then shrugged. He got a plastic bag that contained a page torn from what Jennifer quickly identified as Uncle Eugene's latest book. She scanned the paragraphs of type. It was the part of the story where the unhappy young children had begun to sneak out of their windows at night to meet in the park. They'd realized that the adults in their lives were no longer fulfilling their parental duties and were deciding, for the first time, to band together in the trees. But first they had to rescue a little girl who'd been terribly unhappy. The "monkey" children had lured the little girl away from her mother and were swinging with her through the trees to a hiding place.
As she read the passage, Jennifer felt distinct uneasiness. The parallels were obvious to anyone who knew Mimi Frost's family situation. She was an unhappy little girl. Perhaps she'd gone to hunt the monkey children for herself.
She handed the page back.
"Did you think of something?" The sergeant watched her, his face eager now and his gaze lingering on the low-cut bodice of her party dress.
"It's a sad part of the book," Jennifer said carefully.
"I heard the chief is going to question that writer," he offered. "He does write some very unusual stuff. Might be he has an odd relationship with children."
"I doubt that very much." Jennifer kept her face as controlled as he had earlier. "Thanks." She hurried out of the police station and got back into her car. Grand Street Press wouldn't be happy with the recent turn of events, but she had to report in.
* * *
FAMILIAR SAT OUTSIDE Daisy Adams's bedroom door and listened to the little girl tell her mother what had happened that afternoon. A hot bath, fresh pajamas and a dinner upstairs had put Daisy in a calmer frame of mind.
"No, I didn't see Uncle Eugene," Daisy admitted. "But it had to be him. We were in the garden all alone. There was no one else there."
"We'll look into it," Amanda assured her daughter. "There has to be some logical explanation. I can't believe Eugene would do such a thing." She spoke softly.
"I'm not lying," Daisy said, her voic
e breaking with the strain of her emotions.
"I know you're not," Amanda soothed. "We believe you, sweetheart. Certainly someone pinched you and locked you in the shed, and your father and I intend to find out who did this to you."
"I can't believe he did it," Daisy whispered. "He's always been so nice."
The ringing of the telephone ended the conversation and Familiar dodged back into the shadows as Amanda Adams left her daughter's room and picked up the phone.
"Peter." She was surprised. "Just a moment, she's right here."
She put the phone down and went to get a concerned Eleanor.
For several minutes Eleanor listened. "I'll pack up Jordan and we'll be right there, Peter. How much is the bond?" There was another pause. "I'll get it. Just hang in there until I arrive. We love you."
She replaced the receiver and looked at Amanda. "This hasn't been a very good day. Peter's in jail in Texas. He was arrested when he tried to take pictures of one of those fake safari hunts where men pay outrageous amounts of money to shoot tigers from zoos."
"How terrible." Amanda touched Eleanor's arm. "He isn't injured, is he?"
"They roughed him up some, but he's okay. He needs me to bail him out." Eleanor looked back to the room where Jordan was sleeping.
"I'll book a flight for you. Is there anything else?" Amanda put her arm around Eleanor. "You can count on me. We were like cousins when we were growing up."
"It's Familiar." Eleanor looked around for the cat. She sensed he was listening. "I can't take him to Texas."
"Then he'll stay here, as our special guest. Daisy will love having a cat, even if it's only for a few days."
"Are you sure?" Eleanor looked under the table. "Familiar has a mind of his own. He can be quite a handful."
"If he gets too rowdy, I'll take him to Eugene." Amanda smiled.
"Then you don't believe that about Eugene pinching Daisy?" Eleanor had intended to talk with Amanda and her husband as soon as Daisy had fallen asleep.
"I honestly don't know what to believe. Daisy doesn't lie, but neither does Eugene." She ran a hand lightly over her right eyebrow. "It's a mystery, but one we can look into. At least Daisy is here, safe. I called Sharon Frost. There's been no sign of Mimi, and it'll be dark in another twenty minutes."
"I'm so sorry, and I'm worried." Eleanor pushed her straight black hair back from her shoulders. "I feel like I'm abandoning Eugene in his time of crisis. I'll get Peter out of this mess, and then we'll both come back."
"And don't worry about the cat. He'll be perfectly fine."
Eleanor kissed Amanda's cheek. "It isn't Familiar I'm worried about. It's you." She put her hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Listen, Familiar is…special. He has some peculiarities that go beyond a taste for gourmet foods."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
Eleanor hesitated. No one ever believed her when she tried to tell them about Familiar's adventures. They thought she was exaggerating. "Nothing." She smiled. Sometimes it was simply better not to know.
* * *
THE PLOT DOESN'T THICKEN, it simply twists. I can't believe Eleanor is going to take off for Texas, but Dr. Doolittle is in something of a bind, it seems. I'm telling you, Peter is a one- man-make-trouble machine. I'll bet when he was taking pictures he was trying to get those people's faces so he could press charges. Good for him. It's horrible the way they take broken-down lions and tigers— many of them are declawed and have never been out of a cage— and shoot them ten feet from the cage door. That's a great safari. That's really something to brag about. And those so-called hunters pay thousands of dollars for the privilege.
I feel my blood pressure jacking up, and it doesn't have anything to do with cholesterol, caffeine, or lack of exercise. What I have to do is focus on the fact that now I'm the only one left to find out what's at the bottom of the accusations made against Uncle Eugene. I know that kindly old gentleman could never do such a terrible thing to a little girl, but if there was no one else in the garden…I checked for footprints, but it was useless. Hundreds of feet had trod all over the place. Little feet, big feet, wide feet, narrow feet. And the shed offered no clues. The door was latched with a rusty nail on a string. Not very technical, but effective enough to keep a small girl prisoner. The only clear fact is that Daisy was deliberately imprisoned. The door didn't accidentally stick.
I'm wondering why. Who would want to frighten Daisy Adams like that? She's a nice little girl. Not loud or mean. Who would want to pinch her and lock her in the dark? Some of the other children, those little savages, playing one of the vile pranks they find so amusing? Or someone trying to set up Eugene Legander? Or Eugene? Those are the possibilities.
I'd like to blame it on that big fat boor who crashed the party. He has a bone to pick with Eugene, and this afternoon I heard his little spiel on the radio about cat owners. That man is a menace to society. He doesn't like cats because even the dumbest cat I know is smarter than he. That Uncle Eugene told him, though. Yes, sir! Eugene to the battle. He's one feisty guy.
Eleanor is packing her bags, and I'm at sixes and sevens. The evening outside is balmy. Perfect for a stroll. I think a visit to Uncle Eugene's home is in order. Luckily it's only a few short blocks away.
Mobile is a beautiful city. The oak trees are magnificent the way they canopy the streets. And some of the old homes here are mansions. Too bad they're crowded on those little bitty yards, but I guess development takes a toll in one way or another.
I love the way the people here talk, so slow and easy. It adds just another degree of charm to a city already brimming with wonderful things.
If I'm not mistaken, that's Eugene's house. Listen! It's the sound of…my word— a manual typewriter going ninety to nothing. And it's coming from the backyard.
Was that a growl? Surely not. Uncle Eugene is a cat man. But it sounded distinctly like a bark. I'd better have a peek. Why, it's Eugene writing away. And he's excited. And he's growling with excitement. Jeez! This man loves his work.
But look at his porch. I can't believe my sharp kitty eyes. Who is that lovely creature silhouetted against the back door? What an elegant neck! What a supple back! Look at the way she arches and stretches! My God, I'm smitten! I must know her name.
This Eugene, he attracts lovely creatures. Feline and human. Speak of the devil, here's that blue-eyed spitfire now, Jennifer Barkley. Ah, the perfect name. Miss Spitfire. And while she's here to keep Eugene company, I'd better check back at the Adamses'. I want to be there to tell Eleanor goodbye and at least pretend I'm going to behave. My little stay in Mobile holds a lot of promise. I'm going to have to figure out a way to get introduced to that sexy kitten I saw at Eugene's. My heart belongs to Clotilde, that's true, but there's no harm in admiring the feline form. Especially when it is grace in motion. Ah, the swish of that tail. Perfection.
* * *
"JENNIFER." Eugene stood up at his writing table and went forward to greet her with a hug and kiss.
Jennifer hugged the writer, but she saw the deep concern he tried so hard not to show. Eugene's solution to worry was to work like a maniac. "There's been no sign of Mimi," she said. "And I spoke with Amanda a few minutes ago. Daisy believes it was you. She doesn't want to believe it, but she can't remember anyone else in the garden. And more bad news, Eleanor has had to rush to Texas to help Peter with a project he's become involved in." Jennifer left out the detail that Peter Curry, internationally respected veterinarian and animal protector, was in jail. She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping for forgiveness for the omission. The news would only upset Eugene and there was nothing either of them could do about it. They had their hands full. In the span of the afternoon, suspicions about Eugene had begun to grow. Ugly suspicions and dark rumors— fed by Crush Bonbon and his outrageous, dangerous radio commentary.
"Mimi will turn up." Eugene's chin lifted. "She's a very intelligent child. She has my complete confidence. And as for Peter Curry, Eleanor will get him out of boiling water. She's been
doing it for years now."
Jennifer knew that much of Eugene's calm was bravado. He was a man who kept his worries private and, out of respect for that, she changed the subject. "How is the book coming?"
"I've almost finished the final draft of the last chapter," Eugene said, signaling to his worktable. "The Lizard King is almost complete. I'll be ready for the reading next Saturday."
Jennifer glanced at the neat stack of manuscript. She was always amazed that Eugene could work on a manual typewriter and produce pages without error. He said it was a talent he'd developed as a secret agent after World War II. She didn't actually believe him— but then again, with Eugene Legander, anything was possible. Anything at all.
"I can't wait, Eugene." She gave him a hug. In the time she'd worked with him, he'd become more a father to her than a client. It wasn't that she failed to take her work seriously. She did that, and she knew she was good at it. But she couldn't deny she was personally involved with Eugene. He was family to her— and invaluable to the publisher.
"Why don't we invite that interesting young man from the newspaper over for a glass of brandy?"
Eugene's question caught her off guard. "James Tenet?" She couldn't believe it.
"That's his name. He seemed rather charming." Eugene's look was innocent.
"If we asked him over, he'd think we were trying to bribe him not to run that story." The idea of James Tenet's company made her panicky. She felt a prick of excitement at the mention of his name, and also a little dread. He liked tormenting her. He enjoyed getting her riled. And he was so damnably good at it.
"The man isn't a fool, Jennifer. He can't possibly believe we're trying to control the press with one glass of brandy." Eugene stacked his already neat pages. "I'll give him a call."
Jennifer knew there was nothing she could do to dissuade Eugene once his mind was set. Now she had to think up an excuse to leave. But she couldn't leave Uncle Eugene alone with Tenet. The reporter might worm all sorts of information out of the writer— and then twist it into a story. Eugene never suspected that anyone was up to anything, but Jennifer's experience was very different. It was her job to make sure no one— especially no newspaper reporter— took advantage of Eugene Legander. And Eugene had no inkling of how ugly the rumors had already become all over town.
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