Cat Call (Crazy Cat Lady Cozy Mysteries Book 4)

by Mollie Hunt

  “I can imagine. It sounds awful.”

  “Then he really did fire the gun, into the air off the patio over the city. It was terrible. I’d never been so close to an actual gunman. I tried to run but he blocked my way. I feared for my life, really I did. You believe me, don’t you?”

  I nodded. I did believe her, but there was more to it; I could see it in the glaze of her azure eyes. “Then what happened?”

  She turned away, took a few steps out into the long grass and stared up at the sky: looking for answers or giving up a prayer? I had no way to tell.

  “He popped the champagne and poured two glasses,” she went on, “like the gunshot was nothing, like people shoot off guns every day. He wanted me to drink with him. I tried to tell him I had work to finish. I thought as producer, the work ethic thing might get to him, but he just laughed and said I could have the rest of the night off. Then I told him flat that I wasn’t interested in drinking—‌or having an extramarital affair. He kept insisting, pushing the glass in my face. Touching me.”

  Her cold, mater-of-fact account was giving me the willies, but at least she was talking. “Where was the gun while he was doing all this?”

  “He’d put it down on the side table when he opened the bottle.”

  “And how did you get hold of it?”

  Victoria fidgeted.

  “Go on, tell her, hon,” Roger encouraged. “She might as well know the whole truth.”

  “He grabbed me for real,” she heaved, “but I managed to duck out of his grip. I tried once more to run, but he caught me by the arm. I snatched the gun off the table. I pointed it at him. I told him to back off or I’d shoot. I don’t think I was even serious but I was really mad. He laughed at me, then he got real somber. He reached out and caught me by the face.” Her hand automatically went to her jawbone where, from this proximity, I could see the tint of bruising underneath heavy makeup. “I jerked away and the finger of my glove caught in the trigger. The gun fired. I didn’t even know the safety was off. He looked so surprised. He let go of me. He staggered a few steps, then fell into the pool. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I started to go after him, get him out before he drowned, but there was so much blood. He just floated, his face down in the water. He wasn’t moving. There was nothing I could do so I dropped the gun and bolted.”

  “That’s when she must have lost the phone. My phone.”

  “And I picked it up,” I mused. Quite a story. Was it true? Had Jason Prince’s death been a horrible twist of fate?

  “So you see why we can’t let you give it to the police.” Victoria stared at me with Cinderella innocence. She looked about twelve years old. “Then they would know it was us.”

  Though I sympathized, I still didn’t understand why she ran, why she was still running. The law was on her side, sort of. “But from what you just told me,” I persisted, “it was an accident, or at most, self-defense. You should tell the police what really happened so poor Davit Morton can be released.”

  “No!” Victoria cried. “No way. I don’t have time to go to jail, or trial, or any of that legal stuff. We’ve got to stick to our plan, go for our dream. We’re almost there, aren’t we, Rog?” Her smile was so sickly sweet, it gave me chills.

  I looked at Roger but he seemed dazzled by Victoria’s fantasy that life could go as normal after killing someone and letting another hang for it.

  “You can’t want an innocent man to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit,” I pressed.

  “Look, Lynley,” Victoria spat, suddenly gripping the collar of my blouse and pulling me to her. “I don’t care about Morton. I don’t care about Jason. All I care about is Roger and me and our dream life. Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to get in the way of our living it. And that means you too.”

  She let go and I fell back on the bench, thunderstruck by her fury. There was no more innocence now, and no remorse. As she shook off her husband’s comforting arm and turned, I saw a whole different woman from the one who had been giving her heartfelt confession only a moment ago.

  “This has gone on long enough,” she hissed to Roger. “We need to take care of her. Now.”

  Roger looked at his wife, his face paling. “What do you have in mind?”

  Victoria studied the secluded courtyard. “No one comes out here. What if we knock her out, tie her up, and leave her here while we find the phone? We don’t want to kill her if we don’t have to.”

  “No, that’s for sure,” Roger said carefully. “No more killing. But then what happens? Eventually she’ll get free or someone will find her and we’ll be right back at the bunk house with her going to the cops.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” I butted in.

  “Yeah, you say that now, but once you’re free... No, Roger’s right. Let’s forget about the McCaffrey contract, sweetie, and just go. We could be in Vancouver before sunset.” She gave Roger’s hand a little squeeze, then reached into the pocket of her vest and brought out a full sized metal utility knife. Clicking out the blade, she gave me a look full of crazy.

  “No!” I began to rise but she pushed me down again.

  “Hold her,” Victoria instructed her husband. For a moment, he wavered, then he obediently grasped my shoulders and forced my hands behind my back.

  I screamed and squirmed with all my might, my eyes never leaving the glint of the razor-sharp blade. Roger wasn’t taking any chances this time and his grip on my wrists might as well have been a set of handcuffs.

  Victoria unzipped her inside pocket and took out a small roll of duct tape. She brought the knife front and center, and I gasped with relief when, instead of slitting my throat, she cut off a two-foot length.

  She caught my left arm and wrenched it out straight along the timeworn wooden back slats. I struggled but she pinched my wrist in such a way that for a moment my hand went completely numb. By the time the feeling came back in a rush of tingling pain, she had it bound to the old boards.

  “Pretty nifty, eh?” she said with a self-satisfied grin. “I learned that from a Zen master in San Francisco. I can do the Vulcan neck pinch too, like Mr. Spock on Star Trek. That’s a real thing, you know.”

  She seemed very pleased with herself as she cut another length and repeated the move with my other arm. I was now splayed out like a supplicant and feeling totally helpless. I had a flash of déjà vu, this not being the first time I’d been restrained. I’d hated it then, and I hated it even more this time.

  “Help meeee!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Hellllllp! Murder! Fire!”

  I struggled and kicked out with my feet but Victoria just took a step backward and stared at me as if I were the crazy one. Roger, to his credit, looked like he was about to be sick.

  “Stop this, Victoria!” I cried. “Think what you’re doing. You said killing Jason was an accident so you haven’t intentionally harmed anyone yet. But if you kill me in cold blood, it’s an entirely different matter. That’s murder. You won’t get away with it. And even if you did, you’d never be the same. It will haunt your life forever.”

  She hesitated and I thought I saw a flicker of doubt flash across her face. She turned to her husband, eyes doe-like and questioning.

  “She’s got a point, sweetie,” he said cautiously. “There must be another way.”

  “Yes, another way!” I echoed.

  Victoria gave me a blank look, then took Roger’s arm. Leading him out of earshot, I watched her speaking animatedly. Discussing my fate, I assumed. I was about to take up screaming again when I saw something that brought me to a dead stop.

  A cat was walking along the top of the high wall.

  A big cat.

  A big, orange cat.

  He turned golden eyes to me and uttered a silent meow.

  * * *

  A flood of thoughts kaleidoscoped into my mind. I had no doubt even from that distance the cat was Clark Gable. How had he got out of the trailer? How had he made his way into the secluded courtyard? Was
he looking for me? Could it be he had he come to rescue me?

  Then another, darker thought hit home: What if Victoria turns her crazy anger on poor defenseless Clark? What if she hurts him? She had no reason to do such a thing, nor did I have any grounds to believe she would, but the situation had passed so far beyond rationality that it seemed like anything was possible. And I was helpless to stop it. I tugged at my bonds for the umpteenth time, but I was still stuck at the whim of Victoria and her irrationally conflicted persona.

  Clark hopped down from the wall and meandered in my general direction. He was so beautiful, red fur shining in the sun. It must have been warm on his back. He looked happy.

  But he wasn’t safe, and neither was I.

  “No, Victoria,” Roger’s voice rose. “Lynley’s right. You can’t just go around getting rid of people when they get in your way. I’ve gone along with you this far, but I’m not doing that—‌not now, not ever!”

  The young girl staggered at his intensity and I could see her expression of shock. “But Roger...”

  “No ‘but Roger’! I’ve had your back through this whole preposterous muddle. I kept quiet even though I knew it was wrong. I did it because I love you and because Jason was a terrible man and because you hadn’t meant for him to die. But I can’t support this. Sorry, sweetie, but I just can’t let you do it.”

  Victoria’s shock had begun to morph into anger and from anger into hate. Didn’t he see what effect his words were having on her? Wasn’t he aware she was in the midst of a psychotic break? Because I sure as heck was.

  “You traitor!” she screeched. “You’re just like the rest of them. I should have known you’d fail me. You all do—‌all you men!”

  “No, that’s not what I...” he began but she lashed out at him. Her knife hand connected—‌once, twice.

  Roger’s eyes went wide as he stared at the blood on the utility blade, then at the red stain growing on the sleeve of his shirt. From the rate of expansion, it must have been a bad gash. Quickly he clasped his hand over the red but blood still ran freely around and between his fingers.

  His astonished eyes turned on his wife. He sank to his knees. Like a tree pitching from the logger’s saw, he leaned, then fell defenseless on his side. Victoria looked almost as surprised as her husband.

  “You need to staunch that wound or he’ll bleed out,” I called to her. “He’ll die!” I added when she didn’t move.

  Slowly she turned to me. “It was an accident.”

  An accident, I thought to myself. Where have I heard that before?

  “Use some of that duct tape like a tourniquet,” I commanded. “Wrap it around his arm as tight as you can. Do it!”

  This time she responded. Kneeling by Roger with the tape, she cut off a length and shoved it between his arm and his chest. With absolute predictability, the tape stuck to itself, turning into a sticky, useless ball. Swearing, she pulled off another length. This time she was more careful but with all the blood, the tape still didn’t stick.

  “It’s not working!” she cried.

  “Stick it to itself, then wind it around. That will make it tighten.”

  She followed my directions and soon had a makeshift tourniquet. She continued ripping and wrapping until Roger’s arm looked like it belonged to a silver mummy. The river of blood decreased to a drip and finally stopped completely. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You need to call an ambulance, Victoria,” I directed. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He needs to go to the hospital right away.”

  She looked at Roger and then at me. “But if I do that, the police will come. You’ll tell. You’ll wreck everything.”

  “If your husband dies, that will wreck everything, too—‌forever. Do what’s right, Victoria. Forget about me and get him the help he needs.”

  Her brows furrowed. She passed a hand across her forehead, leaving a red stain on her blonde bangs. “But he betrayed me.”

  “He disagreed with you, Victoria. That’s not the same thing. He was trying to keep you from being hurt, because he loves you very much.”

  She cocked her head. “Do you really think so?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. It feels like I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Clark had made it over to my bench and hopped up. He smoothed his head along my captive arm, giving me a quizzical look as if to say Why aren’t you petting me?

  “I would if I could, kitten” I whispered.

  Suddenly Victoria sprung to her feet. With a quick glance back at Roger’s prostrate body, she started toward the cat and me. As she came, she brandished the bloody knife.

  “Victoria! No, please!”

  The knife came down fast, slashing the duct tape that held my left arm. She did the same to the right. I didn’t know whether I should attack while I had the chance or run away. Instinctively I chose a third alternative and grasped Clark to my chest.

  Victoria was trembling as she turned away and rummaged through her pockets. Muttering to herself, she pulled out item after item, throwing each to the ground in frustration. Eventually she came out with a cell phone. Hands shaking, she tried to dial. The phone slipped out of her blood-slimed grasp and landed amongst the overgrown weeds.

  She squatted and began to comb through the foliage. “I can’t find it!” she whimpered. “It’s gone! It’s lost!”

  “It can’t be lost,” I said, seeing an opportunity to get an upper hand. “Here, I’ll find it for you. You go tend to your husband.”

  Meek now, she acquiesced and moved to Roger. He was moaning softly. I took his consciousness to be a good sign.

  Keeping hold of Clark who seemed perfectly content to be carted around like a big baby, I moved to the spot where the phone had dropped. It was there, half hidden under a dock leaf. I picked it up and, wiped the congealing blood on my skirt, and began to dial.

  Something knocked me over the head and I fell forward. Clark scrambled out of my arms and made a dash across the yard. I felt a boot come down on my back, then the prick of a knife blade against my jugular vein.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Victoria hissed in my ear.

  Chapter 29

  Despite their aloofness, cats have proven themselves loyal and brave. History honors Tony (alerted his human to fire, 2015), “Hero Cat” (guided man lost on Swiss mountain to safety, 2013), Crimean Tom (led starving soldiers to food, 1854), Smudge (defended child from bullies, 2014), Simon (protected ship food stores, 1949), just to name a few.

  My face was pressed into the dewy grass, my glasses ground into the bridge of my nose, when I caught the distinctive click-creak of the old door opening. Victoria gasped and the utility knife eased off a bit.

  “Help!” I managed before my face hit the dirt once more. I heard Victoria swear under her breath.

  The door crashed against the siding and a voice bellowed, “Put your hands in the air, Victoria! I got you covered.” Ray Anderson, doing his very best McCaffrey; overplayed maybe, but to me it was the sweetest act on earth.

  “Step away from Lynley, Vic. The cops are on their way.”

  “Don’t point that thing at me, Ray,” Victoria hissed. “I know it’s just a prop.”

  In spite of her bravado, her foot lifted from my back. Instantly I rolled away and lurched to my feet. Ray was standing in the doorway, a pistol leveled at Victoria. She had her hands halfway up and was edging toward a large chestnut tree.

  “This is no prop, Vic. It’s one hundred percent real and just as lethal.” He flashed the matte black gun into profile for her to see. “What’s going on here anyhow? What did you do to Roger?”

  I wasted no time getting over to the building and ducking behind the big actor into the safety of the stairwell. To my surprise, Cary Grant was there too, sitting tall in a patch of sunlight. Clark Gable scampered in from the courtyard and the two began grooming each other.

  “Oh, Ray, how did you find me?”

  Ray gave me the briefest of glances, ke
eping his attention on Victoria. “It was Cary Grant.”

  “Cary?”

  “He was yowling his little heart out, running around the basement on his own. I knew something was off and checked your trailer. Door was open and the place had been tossed. No sign of the other cat. Then Cary galloped over to the far wall and started howling like a banshee. I went to see and found him by a door I’d never noticed before. Cary made it clear he wanted to go through so I decided we’d better check it out. After everything that’s happened, I wasn’t about to take chances.”

  I glanced at the pair of golden cats, now curled together on the concrete. Thank God for cats! I thought to myself, not for the first time.

  “Victoria’s gone a little crazy, Ray. Roger’s been cut with a razor knife. We need to call an ambulance.”

  He gave a millisecond smile. “You already lost that phone I gave you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  He reached into his pocket and came up with his personal cell phone, a glimmering white state-of-the-art iPhone, and handed it to me, then turned back to the scene.

  Motioning to Roger, the chaos of blood, the silver-wrapped arm. “Did you do that, Vic?”

  Her mouth moved grotesquely but no words came out.

  “Yes,” I answered for her.

  “Do you think she’s capable of harming herself?” he asked aside.

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  His expression, already somber, settled into stone.

  While I called 911, Ray moved out into the yard. “Hey, Vic,” he said softly, holstering his gun and splaying his hands. “I thought you and I were friends. What’s this all about?”

  She gulped back a sob and inched a little closer to the wide trunk of the tree.

  “Come on, quit moving around and let’s talk about this.”