Undercover Kitty

by Sofie Ryan

  I pulled out my phone and called Mac.

  “Hey, how was the stakeout?”

  “Good,” I said. “Charlotte brought cookies.”

  “I take it Natasha Fatale didn’t show up,” he said, referring to the baddie from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons.

  “She did not. Want to come over after your shift?”

  “It’ll be after midnight,” Mac said.

  “I promise I won’t turn into a pumpkin,” I teased.

  “I’ll be there,” he said, and it seemed I could feel his smile coming through the phone.

  I surfed through the TV listings and discovered The Goodbye Girl was about to start again. We’d missed a chunk near the beginning because Nick had called. Well, I had. Elvis had seen it.

  I changed the channel, propped my feet on the coffee table since there was no one other than the cat to see me and settled that cat on my lap. He lifted his head and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “We don’t need popcorn,” I said. “I had two donuts and two cookies and you had I don’t know how many of those chicken crackers. We don’t need popcorn.”

  Elvis made a sound like a sigh and laid his head on one paw.

  We were just about at the point in the movie where Nick had called on Thursday when my phone buzzed. I had a text from Avery. Two words.

  Come back

  There was no way that meant anything good. I put on my shoes, grabbed my jacket and bag and decided I’d leave the TV on for Elvis.

  Less than ten minutes later, I pulled up behind Liz’s car. I walked up beside it and tapped on the driver’s window even though I knew Liz had seen me coming.

  She lowered the window halfway. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asked.

  “I just wondered what was going on,” I said. “Anything interesting happen so far?”

  Liz shook her head. She tapped a switch on the armrest and I heard the car doors unlock. “Get in,” she said.

  I slid into the back next to Avery. Liz turned in her seat and looked at her granddaughter. “You called Sarah.”

  “I did not,” Avery said.

  “Then you texted or Facebooked or waved a flag or something.”

  “I texted,” Avery said. She went back to looking out the window, watching the inn across the street.

  “Somebody tell me what’s going on,” I said.

  Rose was watching the building as well. I realized she had a pair of binoculars in her lap. She turned her head to look at me. “We—I think Mr. Hanratty’s paramour is over there right now.”

  “Nonna said we should just go confront the strumpet,” Avery said.

  I looked at Liz. “Strumpet?”

  “I had an excellent education,” she said. “I know a lot of words.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to confront anyone?”

  “I was thinking more of just having a conversation than actually confronting the woman,” Rose said.

  “Did you get any photos?” I asked.

  Avery handed me her phone without taking her eyes away from the car window.

  There were half a dozen images of a woman in a dark raincoat heading for the front door of the inn. The hood of the coat was up and I couldn’t see her face. I studied the photographs, but I couldn’t tell who the woman was. I did know who she wasn’t, though.

  “That’s not Chloe Hartman,” I said, putting the phone back in Avery’s hand.

  Rose turned to look at me again. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “Chloe Hartman is taller than whoever that woman is,” I said. “In one of the photos she’s at the bottom of the steps and the top of the newel post is about level with her waist. The post looks exactly the same as the ones on our front steps, which means they’re forty inches high. That makes the woman in the photos about five foot four. Even without her heels Chloe Hartman is taller than that. It’s not her.”

  Avery extended her hand over the front seat. Rose took the phone. She scrolled through the photographs, stopping at the one of the woman about to go up the steps. She stared at it for a long time. Finally she handed the phone back to Avery. “You’re right,” she said. “I think I had my mind set on our mystery woman being Chloe Hartman and I saw what I wanted to see.”

  “What do you want to do now?” I said.

  “Whoever it is, she’s coming back out right now,” Avery said from the backseat.

  Rose leaned forward to look through the windshield and I shifted so I could look through the passenger-side window. The woman in the black raincoat was standing on the verandah, the hood of the coat pulled up so we couldn’t see her face. She wore a small cross-body bag and a pair of tall rubber boots with some sort of pattern I couldn’t make out. As she started down the steps the boots caught my eye. The design was reflective, and in the light from the two fixtures at the top of the steps I recognized it: cats. Cartoon cats. Big ones and small ones. I’d seen those boots before.

  Rose had come to the same conclusion. “That’s Kimber Watson,” she said slowly.

  “I know,” I said. It had never occurred to me that Kimber would have been sleeping with James Hanratty, although now I remembered what she’d said to me when I wished her good luck: I make my own luck.

  “Enough of this,” Rose suddenly said. She opened the car door and started across the street.

  Confrontation or conversation: It was about to happen. I muttered a word I probably shouldn’t have used in front of Avery and scrambled out after her.

  Kimber had just reached the driveway when Rose called her name. She went rigid for a moment before she turned around and pushed back the hood of her coat. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

  “Are you having an affair with James Hanratty?” Rose asked.

  “That’s none of your business,” Kimber said. She looked annoyed but not the slightest bit embarrassed or guilty.

  “Are you the person responsible for what happened at the pet expo? Did you put those two mice in the Guardian booth?”

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me that question.” Anger flashed in her dark eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Did you have any problems with Christine Eldridge?” Rose asked.

  “I don’t have to talk to you and I’m not,” Kimber said. She pushed past Rose and walked down the driveway toward the parking area.

  For a moment I thought that Rose was going to follow her, but saner heads prevailed. We walked back to the car.

  “I really did expect to see Chloe,” she said, “not Kimber Watson, of all people.”

  I nodded. “I know.” I wasn’t really sure whom I thought we’d see or if we’d see anyone; but I hadn’t expected Kimber, either.

  I heard Rose sigh. “We haven’t done a good job on this case,” she said.

  “That’s not true.”

  She gave me a halfhearted smile. “Thank you. But it is. However, now that I know better, I’m going to do better.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. We had reached the car by then. Rose climbed in the front-passenger side. Avery slid over and I climbed in the back next to her.

  I propped one arm on the back of the front seat. “What do you mean, you’re going to do better?” I asked.

  Kimber’s car was just pulling out of the driveway across the street.

  Rose half turned. “Do you remember what Michelle said? If we found out anything to call her?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to call her. I don’t know if Kimber is responsible for the vandalism or for the fire, but Michelle will be able to find out.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  “You can teach an old dog new tricks,” she said with a smile. She looked at Liz then. “We’re done.”

  “Are you sure?” Liz asked.

  Rose nodded. �
�I’m confident that Kimber is the one having the affair with James Hanratty. He’s the only guest at the inn at the moment. The others have already checked out. Michelle can handle this one.”

  Liz raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  “So the stakeout is over?” Avery said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Would you make sure Mr. P. gets the best five or six photos, please?”

  “No probs,” she said, bending her head over her phone.

  “You did the right thing when you texted Sarah,” Rose said. “I might possibly have been overreacting.”

  I smiled at her. “You? Never.”

  I glanced at Liz. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I think I reacted appropriately.”

  I made a face at her and then I fished a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to Avery. “Take Greg out for pizza.”

  She looked at the money, then she looked at me, eyes narrowed. “Because I finked out Rose and Nonna?”

  “No,” I said. “Because you gave up part of your Saturday night to help.”

  She thought for a moment, then she stuffed the twenty in her pocket. “Okay, thanks,” she said.

  My phone rang then. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Mr. P. “I’m sorry to trouble you,” he said. “There’s been a small problem at the arena. Mac and I are on the way over. Could you cover the first part of our shift at the inn?”

  “It’s not necessary,” I said. “I’m with Rose and we know who the judge is involved with. It’s not Chloe. It’s Kimber Watson.”

  “My goodness,” Mr. P. said. “That’s not what we were expecting.”

  “Rose and I will meet you at the arena and explain when we see you.”

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said.

  I ended the call.

  “That was Alfred,” Rose said.

  I nodded and stuffed my cell back in my pocket. “He said there’s a problem at the arena. He and Mac are headed there and you heard me say you and I will meet them there.”

  Rose nodded. “All right.”

  I leaned over the back of the front seat and kissed Liz on the cheek. “Thank you for being part of the stakeout,” I said. “Give Channing my love.”

  She tried to swat me with one hand, but I leaned back out of her way and opened the car door.

  “You can be replaced with a self-driving car and a talking parrot,” Liz said.

  “You’d miss me,” I said. “Thank you,” I mouthed to Avery, tipping my head in Rose’s direction as I got out of the car.

  “Like a toothache,” Liz retorted. “Like one of those wretched green drinks for breakfast.

  I laughed as I headed for the truck. “I love you,” I called over my shoulder.

  Liz waved one hand out of the window and I knew what was coming next. “Yeah, yeah, everybody does.”

  Chapter 19

  I turned the SUV around in a nearby driveway and we drove toward the arena. “I need to let the Hartmans know about Kimber and Mr. Hanratty,” Rose said.

  “I think you do,” I said.

  “Did Alfred say what the problem was at the arena?”

  I shook my head and glanced over at her. “Do you think it’s more vandalism?”

  She was frowning. “I don’t know, but if it is, that seems to let Kimber off the hook.”

  “I know,” I said. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  When I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted Mac waiting by the doors to the building where the pet expo had been held. I parked and we walked over to him.

  “What happened?” Rose asked after he’d let us in.

  “There was a problem with the sprinklers,” he said. “Memphis managed to get them shut off fairly quickly so there isn’t much damage and it’s contained to three booths. He used a Shop-Vac to get up most of the water. Right now it’s just a matter of drying things and seeing what—if any—damage there is.”

  We started walking toward the second set of doors. “Was it accidental or did someone set off the sprinklers on purpose?” Rose asked.

  “Cleveland seems to think it was deliberate.”

  Rose and I exchanged glances. “That eliminates Kimber,” I said.

  Mac frowned. “Kimber?”

  “Owns a Bengal named Basil. Came in third after Socrates and Nikita, the white Persian. Turns out she’s the one, not Chloe Hartman, who’s sleeping with James Hanratty.”

  “Got it. I think,” he said.

  We found Cleveland and Mr. P. spreading out a large blue plastic tarp. Mac moved to take the end Mr. P. was holding. “Let me do that while you bring Sarah and Rose up to date,” he said.

  Mr. P. joined us and we moved several steps away.

  “How much damage is there?” Rose asked, concern pulling at the lines around her mouth.

  “Most things are just damp,” he said. “Cleveland is going to set up a couple of fans, which will help. One of the booths is a pet food company. Some of their small sample bags are ruined; but other than that, things look all right.”

  “Mac said this wasn’t an accident,” I said.

  Mr. P. shook his head. “Both Cleveland and Memphis agree. The only sprinkler that went off is the one up there.” He pointed above our heads. “Memphis was able to go into the system and override that particular sprinkler head. That’s why there’s so little damage.”

  “There don’t seem to be many people here,” I said.

  “Takedown is Sunday morning, so there aren’t very many people around, just a few vendors who need to get out of here tonight.”

  “So the culprit was in the building?” Rose said.

  Mr. P. smoothed one hand over his hair. “Not necessarily. According to Memphis, the system could have been hacked from anywhere. And from what I’ve seen, the arena doesn’t have a very robust firewall.”

  Mac and Cleveland were spreading things on the plastic tarp. “Was the Guardian booth one of the three that got wet?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was,” Mr. P. said. “Along with Colorado Pet Food and a company that makes dog coats and footwear.”

  “I’m going to give those guys a hand,” I said, gesturing over my shoulder at Mac and Cleveland. “Rose will tell you what happened over at the inn.” I looked across the huge space and saw Jacqueline headed in our direction. The social media maven probably wanted to do some damage control once again even though the expo and the show were over.

  Rose nodded. “And we need to talk to the Hartmans.”

  Mac and Cleveland had set a couple of large boxes on the edge of the tarp and were removing what looked to be some kind of padded vests. I realized they were part of Guardian’s vehicle restraint systems for cats and dogs. I’d been thinking about getting one for Elvis. I went to help the guys.

  “Hey, Cleveland,” I said. “Does all of this just need to dry out?”

  “Hi, Sarah,” he said. “As far as I can see, all that’s wrong with this stuff is that it’s damp. Looks like this booth got the worst of the water. The sprinkler head is right above us.”

  I’d started taking the vests from the box. I realized Cleveland was right. There was no real damage done to anything.

  He straightened up. “I’m going to get a couple of fans,” he said. “Be right back.”

  I kept working, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was the second time that Guardian’s booth had been the victim of vandalism. I realized Mac was watching me.

  “What?” I said.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your head. Something is bothering you.”

  I sat back on my heels. “This is the same vendor where Cleveland found those mice.”

  “I know you don’t like the word, but it could be a coincidence,” Mac said, rolling up his left sleeve.

  “It could be.”

  “But you don’t think it
is.”

  I got to my feet. “I . . . give me a minute.”

  Jacqueline had stopped to speak to Memphis. Rose and Mr. P. still had their heads together. I walked over to them. Mr. P. smiled at me. “Did Cleveland go to get the fans?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I have a question about the vandalism at the earlier shows,” I said.

  “What is it?” Rose said.

  “Someone tampered with the sprinklers before, right?”

  “That’s right,” Mr. P. said.

  “Was there more damage that time, or less?”

  “Based on the photos I saw, more. In that case it took longer to get the sprinklers turned off.”

  “So things haven’t escalated?”

  Mr. P. looked thoughtful. “I can’t say that. They could have. The perpetrator wouldn’t have known how easy it was for Memphis to shut the sprinkler off.”

  I looked over at the tarp covered with Guardian products. “How many booths had water damage the last time?” I asked.

  “Five,” he said.

  “Do you remember who the vendors were?”

  A frown knotted Rose’s forehead. “Why all the questions?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just have this niggling feeling that I’m missing something. I’m probably just tired.”

  “Don’t dismiss a gut feeling,” Rose said.

  I smiled at her. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between a gut feeling and the fact that I ate too many cookies.”

  “You have very good intuition, Sarah,” Mr. P. said. “To answer your question, those five vendors were two pet food manufacturers—major supermarket brands—a company that made pet beds out of recycled materials; a custom dog house manufacturer; and Safe Paws, a business that sells leashes, harnesses and restraint systems. Does that help?”

  “No,” I said, raking a hand back through my hair. “I think I’m just looking for connections that aren’t there.”

  I rejoined Mac. “Figure anything out?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. I stood there weighing my options and then I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I just need to look up one thing.” I did a quick online search and found Safe Paws. I was way out on a limb. I hoped I wasn’t about to end up crashing to the ground.