Hoppy Holiday Homicide (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 9)

by Molly Fitz

  The longer it took, the higher the risk to Mags. We should have had her by now. She shouldn’t have ever been taken.

  “Mommy,” Paisley yipped from the backseat. “I can’t see. I can’t see, and I want to help.”

  “Has she spotted something?” Charles asked, answering her bark.

  “No,” I translated without pulling my eyes away from the street. “She can’t see anything back there and wants to help.”

  Charles patted his lap with one hand. “Oh, well then come here, girl. C’mon.”

  Paisley didn’t need to be told twice. She vaulted from the backseat into Charles’s lap where she now stood with her paws against the door in the same position as Octo-Cat.

  “There are so many cars!” she remarked. “But only one of them took Mags.”

  “Obviously,” my cat droned, but Paisley ignored him.

  Charles kept driving straight. If we didn’t turn off, we would eventually wind up in Cooper’s Cove. Might the kidnappers have taken Mags there?

  My eyes strained and the left one began to twitch as I felt my pulse boom beneath it. My brain stayed equally busy. So much was going on, it had become difficult to keep my head straight.

  Two people had been killed, but the murderer may have only meant to take a single victim. Mags was kidnapped shortly thereafter, but the kidnappers may have meant to take me instead. We didn’t know if the same person—or persons—had committed both crimes or whether it was just a big ol’ coincidence they occurred so close together. I had no idea who would want to take me, who would want to hurt the judges, or where Mags could be.

  It all felt like far too much.

  And while investigating murders was often harrowing, we weren’t usually racing against a clock. The dead would stay that way, no matter how long it took us to solve the murders, but Mags could still be saved.

  “I don’t like it when you do that,” Octo-Cat said, turning to look back at me, a sneer on his little kitty face.

  “Do what?” I said innocently.

  “When you get all panicky. I can smell it, and it’s not a good smell.”

  “You mean my stress hormones?”

  “Whatever you want to call them. They’re pretty disgusting, and anyway, you always do so much better when you’re able to look at a situation logically. The moment you start freaking out is the moment you’re working with a disadvantage.”

  Well…

  I was dumbfounded by the insight of his observation and needed a moment to decide how to respond.

  Octo-Cat, however, kept going. “We’ve solved how many cases together now? This has got to be number ten or something near that, and each of those times no matter what happened, you figured it out. Well, usually it was me who played the most instrumental role, but you were there, and you helped, just like good assistants do. You’d be of a lot more assistance to me now if you just took a moment to get a grip already. You can treat it like an episode of Law & Order. First, we need to solve the crime, and then we can worry about getting justice for the victims.”

  He hummed a melodic beat that I believed was meant to be the Law & Order sound—dun dun—and although I didn’t think everything in our lives could be likened to an episode of his favorite show, this time my cat was absolutely right.

  I’d let myself become too fixated on what could happen next. I needed to shift my focus to what we already knew, what had already happened, and then go forward from there.

  Taking his advice, I took several deep, steadying breaths as I reviewed the facts of both cases in my mind.

  “What are you thinking about?” Charles asked from beside me, chancing a quick glance in my direction while we continued on the road to Cooper’s Cove.

  “I’m going over everything we know and trying to look at things logically rather than letting my worry for Mags cloud everything.”

  “So you’re relaxing a little?” he asked with a slight grin.

  “I’m still crazy worried,” I admitted with a sigh, “but I need to put that aside for everyone’s benefit. Octo-Cat reminded me of that.”

  Charles reached over and patted Octo-Cat’s head while moving his other hand to the top of the steering wheel. “He’s a good cat when he wants to be.”

  “Yes he is,” I agreed, smiling over at the tabby. “Yes he is…”

  “So tell me what you’re thinking,” Charles continued. “Any fresh insights?”

  I stayed silent for a minute as I gathered all my thoughts. “I just don’t see a way that the murders and kidnapping can be linked other than the location, which I believe is a coincidence.”

  “Makes sense,” he said. “Go on.”

  “I don’t even think that both of the murders were planned, so it would be a stretch to add the kidnapping on top of that.”

  “And you’ve made a lot of enemies over the last year and a half,” Octo-Cat reminded me with a quick flick of his tail.

  I told Charles what the cat had said, and my boyfriend chuckled. “That’s what happens when you’re the good guy. You always ruffle some of the bad guy’s feathers”

  Octo-Cat perked up at this analogy, but I focused on asking the next logical question. “But whose feathers would be ruffled enough to try to abduct me?”

  “Hmm. Let’s review. First, there were the folks involved with Ethel Fulton’s demise and inheritance dispute.”

  Octo-Cat winced. Even though I knew he was happy living with me now, he still missed his original owner every day.

  Charles continued to discuss the murderers and other criminals we’d played a role in apprehending, coming up with a list of more than a dozen potential suspects.

  “Looks like the cat’s right,” he quipped. “A lot of people have cause to be very angry with you. But who would it benefit to take you now? They’ve already been caught. No changing that now.”

  “Most recently, Octo-Cat and I solved the murder on the train and the one in the pet store.”

  “The folks from the train were apprehended, correct?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Yes, they’re in jail and some of the others we’ve caught are, too.”

  Charles nodded thoughtfully. “In jail doesn’t mean not capable. They could have lackies working for them for all we know.”

  “So, what you’re saying is we can’t rule anybody out?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Nope. Not a single person.”

  My phone buzzed from the place where I’d dropped it in Charles’s cup holder after getting in the car.

  “It’s Nan,” I cried, quickly answering the call and putting it on speaker.

  “Angie, dear!” she shouted into the phone. “It's Mags! They’ve found her! She's safe!”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “Oh thank goodness… Thank goodness.” We hadn’t been too late after all.

  “We’re on our way," I promised Nan.

  “So are we. We’re all going back to the Glendale police station. See you there.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  We reached the Glendale police station in record time.

  Charles swore he didn't go a mile over the speed limit—being the law-abiding lawyer he was—but I'm pretty sure that when I had the chance to sneak a peek at the speedometer, we were going at least ten over.

  Then again, all the police were occupied elsewhere as we made our journey toward Mags.

  When we got there, Nan and Mr. Milton had already arrived on the scene, and from what I could tell, Mags had just been delivered to the station as well.

  “Oh, thank goodness, you’re all right,” I cried, rushing to hug her as tight as I could. A giant wracking sob tore through me once I had her safe in my arms.

  We’d been so close to losing each other after only just having been reunited… And I’d been dangerously close to losing her for good.

  My cousin stared at me through glassy, unblinking eyes, her face devoid of any rosiness as she regarded me.

  “Now, now. Just give her a moment,” the delive
ring officer commanded. “She's had quite the shock, this one.”

  I gulped and took a step back, willing my cousin to speak to me—but she remained perfectly quiet as the rest of us settled in at the station.

  Mom and Dad arrived about five minutes after the rest of us and hugged Mags just as tightly as I had.

  “Whoa,” the officer said with a kind chuckle. “I hadn't realized we'd be hosting a family reunion right here at the station.”

  Mom shot him a cold look, but nobody said anything more. Not until Mags delicately cleared her throat and searched the small room until she found me.

  “Angie,” she said, her voice emotionless, disconnected. “Angie,” she repeated with added emphasis. “They didn't want me. They wanted you.”

  “I know,” I answered with a nod.

  Charles pressed in close, holding Octo-Cat in his arms.

  Paisley had already been returned to Nan with a flurry of licks and cuddles.

  Mags reached forward now to stroke Octo-Cat’s soft, striped fur. “They kept calling me Russo,” she said, "and I don't think they figured out that I'm not you."

  “Who is they? And why did they take you?” As horrible as I felt that this had happened at all, it was even worse to know for sure that it had been my fault.

  “I don't know,” Mags answered with a frown. “They blindfolded me in the van and tied my hands behind my back. I never got a good look at either of them.”

  “How many were there? Were they male? Female?” I asked, praying that this would soon make sense so that Mags’s kidnappers would have to pay for what they’d done.

  “I'll be the one to ask questions here,” the cop growled in warning. He was one I hadn’t met before, probably from one of the officers from out of town. “If you'll just give us a moment—”

  Mags raised her hand and interrupted him. “No, they’re my family. I want them here. Anything you want to ask me, they can hear, too.”

  “Okay,” the officer said, nodding once although he obviously didn’t agree. “Let's start with a description of your kidnappers. How many were there? Male? Female? Any defining characteristics to their voices, anything you remember hearing or smelling?”

  Those were questions I was going to ask too. Some of them I already had. It seemed important to the officer that he remain in charge, so I remained quiet.

  Mags shook her head slowly. “From what I could tell, there were two. A man and woman. Remember, I couldn’t see anything. Only hear. And when the man pulled me into the car, I still had my things with me. That morning I bought a solid metal menorah from the nice ladies at the Hanukkah tent and I used it to thwack him over the head as hard as I could. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, though. That's when he took everything away and threw it out the window.”

  I reached into my bag and pulled out the things we had found in the snow. “We’ve got everything right here for you,” I said, returning them to her. “And good job getting that hit in.”

  A small smile flitted across Mags’s face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

  “They kept calling me Russo, and I didn't correct them because I didn't want to put you in danger, and I didn't know what they would do if they found out they had the wrong person. I was so scared, Angie.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice cracking.

  “They were so angry. They kept telling me to keep my nose out of places where it didn't belong. They said bad things would happen to me, much worse than this if I crossed them again.”

  “But who?” I asked, unable to contain a groan.

  Enormous tears spilled from Mags’s eyes. “I don't know. I wish I did, so I could warn you. All I know is they were mad, and they said they'd definitely be back if you didn't fall in line. What did they mean, Angie? What have you gotten into? Is it drugs?”

  “Never!” I assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “This has to be related to my work as a private investigator. I've outed some pretty unsavory characters in my day.”

  The cop scratched his chin. “A P.I., huh?”

  I nodded, and we said no more about that. “So did they just deliver the message and then let you go?” he asked after returning his attention to Mags.

  “I think they planned to keep me longer, but something spooked them. Maybe the sound of sirens. I'm not sure, because it’s all kind of a blur. They panicked and left. Once I was sure they weren’t coming back, I got to work on the ties binding my hands. And once those were free, I took off the blindfold and made my way to the road.”

  “And that's where we found you,” the officer concluded.

  “Yes.” Mags turned to me. “It's hard to believe that wasn't even half an hour ago.”

  “It's hard to believe a lot about today,” Nan added.

  Mr. Milton, who’d remained quiet until now, cleared his throat. “They took you to Dewdrop Springs. Probably means they're from there. A lot of the bad things that happen around the bay come from folks in that town.”

  All eyes zoomed to Mr. Milton. Nobody wanted to contradict him, but nobody jumped to agree with him either.

  “It could have been anyone,” I said at last. “But I doubt the kidnappers were stupid enough to return home while they had her.”

  “Are you saying we should rule out Dewdrop Springs?” Mr. Milton questioned, his voice flaring in irritation.

  “No, but we shouldn't rule out all the other possibilities, either.”

  “Is there anything more you can tell us, Mags?” Mom asked, wrapping an arm around her niece’s shoulder.

  “That's all I know,” Mags answered somberly.

  I remained quiet. Mags had already been through so much. There was no point asking her to recall more when she'd already told us.

  Did this mean the kidnappers wouldn't be found?

  Probably at least not for now.

  And who or what had scared them off? Would they really be back?

  Would every moment going forward put me in peril, seeing as they could strike at any time?

  They’d said they wanted me to stop, but I didn't know what I should stop. And honestly, I refused to be scared off my duties as a P.I. by some disgruntled bad guys.

  More than afraid, I was angry—angry this had happened to Mags in my place, angry it had happened at all, and angry that Mr. Milton was still here.

  Finally, I decided to say something about that niggling little problem. “Do you think we should limit any further discussions to family only?”

  I looked to my parents for support, but it was Nan who answered. “Are you trying to suggest Mr. Milton isn't welcome?”

  “I just think it would be better,” I said, “if it were only us.”

  When Nan didn't argue in his defense, Mr. Milton became extremely flustered. “I'm only trying to help. Can't you see that?” he demanded of me.

  Mags spoke up in the eerie voice she’d affected since returning to us. “Angie’s right. I want him to go.”

  Mr. Milton looked to Nan one last time, then stormed out of the station.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “C’mon,” the police officer told Mags. “We need to get your statement on record before letting you go.”

  “Should I come with you?” Charles offered.

  Mags shook her head. “I didn't do anything wrong, so I don't need a lawyer present, but thank you.”

  We watched her go, the rest of us remaining in the waiting room uncomfortably close to a grimy looking coffeemaker. I hung back as far as I could from the untrustworthy appliance.

  If it was a coffeemaker that had first given me my ability to talk to animals, then another coffeemaker could just as easily take that power away, too. Definitely not something I was willing to risk.

  “How are you feeling?” Charles asked, leaning one shoulder onto the wall beside me and sweeping his concerned eyes over me.

  “I feel like a giant weight has been lifted from my chest,” I said. “I know that's super cliché, but it's also l
ike a part of me didn't even realize that I couldn't breathe until Mags was brought back safe, sound, and relatively unharmed.”

  “I know what you mean,” Mom agreed and laced her fingers through my father's.

  “I don't know if we'll be able to find the kidnappers based on the information we have, dear,” Nan told me, concern etched across her aged features.

  “It’s not a big deal. Now that I know they're coming for me, I'll be ready,” I promised.

  “Maybe they only wanted to give you that warning and plan to leave it at that,” my dad ventured. “Are you going to listen?”

  “Of course not,” Nan answered for me. “Angie hasn't done a single thing wrong.”

  I simpered at my parents. “She's right, you know. Now that we have Mags back, we need to focus on figuring out who killed the judges.”

  “What are you thinking?” Mom asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes.

  “I’m thinking I'd like to talk to Mr. Gable again. He's the one who knew the most about the Holiday Spectacular. Both the festival itself and the committee who planned it.”

  “Don't forget he’s the one who knows the most about the guests, too,” Charles reminded me. “He took pictures of everyone who came through that main entrance.”

  “Yes, the camera!” I cried. “It's here at the police station. I never got a chance to finish looking through it.”

  “That officer didn't seem too keen on having us involved in his investigation,” Dad grumbled. “Do you really think he'd share a key piece of evidence like that?”

  Charles shook his head in response. “He might not want to, but I bet that officer Bouchard could convince him otherwise.”

  “Already on it.” Mom held up her phone as the call connected. A moment later, a wide smile stretched across her face.

  “Yes, it's me, Laura Lee. We found Mags, which you probably already heard, so now we’re available to help you find the killer from the ice sculpture garden.”

  I couldn't hear the officer’s side of the conversation, but whatever he said didn't slow Mom down one bit.

  “Of course, I know you're all working on it very hard,” she said, bobbing her head, “but you know how talented my Angie is, and I think she might have already figured it all out besides.”