by Nic Saint
“That Darn Cat?” Dooley suggested. “The Aristocats?”
“Made in the stone ages,” I said. “Any more recent examples?”
Dooley thought hard, but couldn’t come up with a single one. “I’m sorry, Max. I don’t... Oh! Cats & Dogs. There were cats in that one, weren’t there?”
“Not Disney. And the cats were the villains,” I said. “Which is exactly what the dog lobby wants. No, face it, Dooley. Cats should probably create a lobby, like the dogs have, and march on Hollywood, demanding equal representation.”
“We should have our own franchise,” Dooley agreed. “Like Beethoven, but with cats.”
“Or our own shows, like Lassie, but with cats.”
“Or even books. Like Old Yeller, but with cats.”
“Will you two shut up about Hollywood for a moment,” Harriet suddenly burst out.
“Well, excuse us if we care about how underrepresented we are in Hollywood,” I said, feigning indignation.
“What I don’t get is how you can still hang out with Brutus after what he did to me,” Harriet said. “I’m your oldest friend, Max—not Brutus. I even distinctly remember you once calling him a usurper and an intruder in your own home. And now you’re taking his side against me? I expected more from you. And you, Dooley.”
“Me?” asked Dooley, surprised. “What did I do?”
“You chose Brutus over your oldest, dearest friend. And it’s something I will never forgive you for.”
Dooley seemed flabbergasted. I wasn’t. Harriet is prone to these spells of drama. It’s all those daytime soap operas she watches with Gran. They have affected her usually sunny disposition and made her prone to extreme melodramatic outbursts such as this latest one.
“I’ll have you know that I haven’t taken Brutus’s side,” I said.
“Me neither,” said Dooley. “I can’t take sides when I care for both sides equally.”
“Well put, Dooley,” I said.
“Besides, what were we supposed to do? Let Brutus drown?”
This was news to Harriet, apparently, for she jerked her head up from contemplating the setting sun and gave us a penetrating look. “Drown? What are you talking about?”
“Brutus almost drowned today,” I said. “If Chase hadn’t been there to pull him out of the duck pond, he wouldn’t be here.”
“Well, he isn’t here,” Dooley pointed out.
“That’s because Harriet chased him away,” I said. “Poor cat. First he almost died trying to extract vital information from a duck, then he had to take a needle in the neck from Vena, and when he finally arrives in his own home, what does he get? A furious female lashing out and chasing him away. He’s probably out there right now, sleeping with the rats and the other vermin, no choice but to live a life on the street, like a common reject.”
Harriet seemed to waver, then her expression hardened. “If he almost died, that serves him right. He shouldn’t have been mooning over Darlene’s backside like that.”
“For your information, he wasn’t mooning over Darlene’s backside any more than Darlene was mooning over his.”
“Darlene was mooning over Brutus’s backside a little, Max,” Dooley said.
“Fine. I’ll grant you that. She lured Brutus into this rendezvous, but the moment Brutus realized his mistake, he immediately set the record straight. ‘Frankly,’ he told Darlene, ‘there’s only one cat for me and that’s Harriet. So I’m very sorry but I can’t do this.’”
“And immediately buried his nose in her butt,” said Harriet scathingly.
“He did no such thing,”
“You can argue your point all night long, Max,” said Harriet, “but I know what I saw, and what I saw was Brutus getting ready to get down and dirty with Darlene and I, for one, am not the kind of cat who will stand for such nonsense.”
Just at that moment, Odelia arrived down the stairs, and Tex waltzed in through the sliding glass door that gives out onto the backyard. I should probably warn you that in this family, nobody ever knocks. People just come barging in whenever they please.
“Hey, Dad” Odelia said. “Brutus!” she added when she saw who Tex was carrying.
Brutus looked a little rattled, and perhaps the fact that Harriet already had her back up again had something to do with that.
“Look who I found roaming the streets like a critter,” said Tex good-naturedly. “And almost being run over, too.”
“I was almost run over by the killer of that Dany Cooper girl,” said Brutus, keeping a close eye on Harriet, who seemed ready to pounce.
“Run over!” Odelia exclaimed.
“That’s the second time I almost died today,” Brutus said, still eyeing Harriet keenly.
If these words were designed to exact a certain effect on the errant feline they didn’t miss it. Harriet’s distended tail shrunk back to normal proportions. But then she growled, “I don’t care how many times you almost get run over, you filthy love rat. I just hope next time someone finally succeeds.”
And after these particularly harsh words, she padded off in the direction of the sliding door, and then out. Before making her grand exit, though, she glanced over her shoulder. “From now on you’re all dead to me,” she said, addressing me and Dooley. “Adieu.” And then she was off.
Chapter 15
Amid all this cat drama, Odelia had only focused on one thing. She approached Brutus, who was still staring after Harriet. “Did you just say you were almost run over?”
Brutus nodded. “The same man who killed Dany Cooper. At least I think he was. He was wearing a yellow parka and a baseball cap and sunglasses.”
Odelia looked at her father.
“I’m sorry,” said Tex. “I didn’t get a good look at the driver.”
“What about the car? License plate number?”
Tex frowned. “Um…”
“Oh, Dad…”
“I’m a doctor, honey, not a detective. I don’t routinely scan cars for license plates or makes and models.” He held up a finger. “I do think it was a blue car, but don’t hold me to that. It could have been a trick of the light.”
“It was blue,” Brutus acknowledged. “And one of those boxy cars that are so popular with the British royal family.”
Odelia thought for a moment, then she and her father said in unison, “Range Rover.”
She took out her phone and brought up a picture of a Range Rover. “Is this the car you saw, Brutus?”
Brutus glanced at the picture and nodded. “Yup. Like I said. The boxy car those British royals are always promoting on TV.”
It was true. For some reason the British royal family were always driving Range Rovers, almost as if they were employed as that company’s PR representatives.
“And was he actually targeting you, you think?” she asked next.
“I think so. At least, he seemed to swerve in my direction and tried to run me down. So if that’s not intentional it was a very strange coincidence.”
“He switched lanes just so he could run down Brutus,” Tex confirmed. “It looked intentional to me.”
“I don’t get it,” said Odelia. “First this man kills my understudy and now he tries to run over my cat? What’s going on?”
“It could be a coincidence,” said Tex. “Maybe this man simply doesn’t like cats, so when he saw the opportunity to run one over, he took it.”
“And it’s possible there’s more than one man in a yellow parka,” Max offered.
Odelia chewed her bottom lip. Max was right. Then again, her gut told her this was no coincidence. That these two events, the murder of Dany Cooper, and Brutus’s brush with vehicular catslaughter, were related. This man was after something. And it had something to do with her.
Dad put his hand on her shoulder. “Odelia, honey. You better be careful. I don’t know what’s going on, but something tells me this man may be targeting you.”
She placed her hand on top of his and gave him a smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll
be careful.”
She took her purse from the kitchen counter and moved to the door.
“You’re going out?” asked Dad.
“A meeting with the rest of the Bard in the Park crew. The director called it. We’re going to sit down and try to process what happened this afternoon. Also, we need to decide whether to do the shows or simply cancel the entire project.”
“They’re not seriously thinking about going through with the performances, are they?” asked Dad incredulously.
“You know what they say, Dad. The show must go on. A lot of people put a lot of work into this project. It would be a pity to let them down. As Wolf sees it, we’ll dedicate the performances to Dany’s memory. I think she would have liked that.”
“But there’s a maniac out there, targeting members of your troupe. Not to mention... you.”
“It’s all right, dad. Chase will be there tonight. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Dad hesitantly. It was obvious he wasn’t too happy about letting his only child walk out of the house and into a potentially life-threatening situation.
“Chase is there,” she repeated. “He already saved one life today. He’s prepared to guard others with his own.”
“It’s true,” Brutus said. “Chase saved my life tonight.”
“That was a brave thing to do,” said Dad with a nod.
Odelia gave her cats a finger wave. “You guys better stay here tonight. There’s a cat killer on the loose, so no cat choir, all right?”
This didn’t seem to sit well with her cat troupe, but they grudgingly agreed.
And then she was off.
Wolf had set up shop in Whitmore Manor, a huge place that belonged to Marcia Graydon, patron of the arts and one of Wolf’s mother’s oldest and dearest friends. The sizable manor was located near the beach, just outside of town. Wolf was staying there, and so were other members of the crew. At least the ones that weren’t locals, like Odelia.
Dany Cooper had been staying there as well.
When Odelia arrived, Chase’s car was already parked in the driveway, so she eased her own, slightly more dilapidated truck, right next to his newer model.
She hadn’t seen much of Chase today. Uncle Alec had kept him busy working the case all day, even though he’d rushed home for a quick shower and some fresh clothes after his close encounter with a duck pond earlier. She was looking forward to seeing him again, and hopefully gleaning some information about the case. Even though Alec had made her promise to butt out this time, she couldn’t very well be expected to butt out completely. Not when this maniac was targeting not only her understudy but also her cats. Besides, as she’d told her uncle, her editor expected a full write-up, and so did the readers of the Gazette.
The cop standing at attention at the door indicated just how serious Uncle Alec took the threat. She nodded a greeting at the policewoman.
“Chase is already here,” she said. “He’s been asking about you.”
It was a little odd to have to learn about Chase’s whereabouts from a third party, but then that was what happened when a detective and a reporter moved in together: in the heat of the moment, their schedules didn’t always overlap. At least tonight they would.
The meeting was being held in the manor’s large and opulently furnished dining room, where the crew took their meals when they weren’t rehearsing, either on location in the park or in the small theater in the basement.
When Odelia strode in, the room was already packed to capacity, people talking in hushed tones. Obviously the death of Dany had made a huge impression. Suddenly Odelia wondered if her dad hadn’t been right when he suggested the shows should be canceled. But that wasn’t up to her. It was Wolf’s decision to make—and the producers.
Wolf now clapped his hands and the room went quiet.
Odelia caught a glimpse of Chase in a corner, his notebook out, talking to a woman who looked like the spitting image of Odelia. Her second understudy, Odelia knew.
“I know we’re all deeply impressed and shocked by what happened at the park today,” Wolf said. “I just want you all to know that the local police have the matter well in hand. They’re on top of this terrible tragedy and the police chief himself has promised me in no uncertain terms that the full weight of his department is brought to bear on this case. They will not rest before they have the vile killer of our dear and sweet Dany Cooper in custody. New York doesn’t have capital punishment, as far as I know, which seems like a pity, under the circumstances.” He now gestured to Chase. “I’m sure you’ve all had a chance to meet Detective Kingsley, who’s in charge of the investigation.”
Chase gave a nod of acknowledgment, and Odelia couldn’t help but notice how the eyes of all the women in the room sparkled just that little bit brighter. She was sure his actions at the park today, where he’d repeated Colin Firth’s lakeside performance in Pride and Prejudice, only with a live audience instead of a film crew, had something to do with that.
“Please give the detective your full cooperation. Hold nothing back. Even the most innocuous encounter or throwaway comment someone made may be the vital clue that will lead the police to the killer.” He clapped his hands again. “Now, about the shows. I know you’re all anxious to find out what Conway and I have decided.” He looked defiant. “We are not going to let this monster stop us from putting on the best Bard in the Park edition this part of the country has ever witnessed. We’re going through with the shows as scheduled and we’re going to dedicate them to Dany’s memory.”
Murmurs of agreement echoed through the room. It was obvious the director had struck the right note.
Odelia just hoped it would also prove to be the right decision.
Chapter 16
Odelia had sidled up to the director, the very flamboyant Wolf Langdon. They’d had a good meeting, and Wolf had been both dignified and defiant. It was obvious from the applause he received at the end of his address that his words carried the approval of all those present.
“Did you know Dany well?” Odelia asked Wolf while she took a sip from her root beer float. Even though there was ample opportunity to drown one’s sorrows in alcoholic beverages, Odelia had opted to keep a clear head and pick a non-alcoholic alternative.
“Not really,” said Wolf. “I know she was a dedicated actress who aspired one day to star on Broadway.”
“You didn’t hire her?”
“No, I didn’t. I leave those decisions to Conway, my producing partner. He’s been with me for years and years and years and I trust his judgment implicitly. I hire the key people—the stars—and leave the rest to Con. Some people may feel that a director should micro-manage but I’m not of that conviction. There’s enough on my plate already, and Con knows exactly what I want. Were you and Dany close?”
“Not really,” Odelia admitted. She’d hardly spoken to the girl throughout the preparatory stages of the production. Then again, suddenly being thrown into this project had been so overwhelming there had hardly been time to get to know every team member.
“She was a very studious young woman,” said Wolf. “Always to be found digging into her ebook reader. She was probably the only person in this production who could recite the verses of the bard backward and forward. She’d read all of his work and was a big fan.” He smiled a wistful smile at the memory. “A dedicated little wench, our Dany Cooper.”
“I find Shakespeare’s words a little... opaque,” Odelia said.
“I know. He’s tough to wade through. There’s an app I use. It adds little side notes and explanatory popups to put his words in the right historical context. Here. I’ll show you.”
He took out his smartphone and called up the app. And as it loaded, Odelia could see, in a flash, a message Dany had sent Wolf. It read: ‘Hurry up, Wolfy. I’m naked and ready.’
It disappeared before she could read more, supplanted by the iconic face of William Shakespeare. And as Wolf went on to demonstrate the app, she wondered if she
should say something. He made no indication to have noticed himself, though, and the moment passed.
So Wolf had known Dany a lot better than he admitted, huh? Weird...
Wolf was called away to deal with a creative dispute between two actors, and Odelia searched around for Chase, wondering where he’d gone off too. She saw he was chatting amicably with a pretty young actress. The woman had draped her hand on Chase’s arm and was laughing just a little too loudly at a joke Chase was apparently telling her. A twinge of jealousy sliced through Odelia at the sight of her boyfriend chatting up another woman, and suddenly she could relate to Harriet’s annoyance at seeing Brutus sniffing another cat’s butt. Not that Chase was sniffing the woman’s butt, but if left to his own devices he looked as if he were on the verge of doing just that.
She abruptly turned, and almost bumped into Don Stryker, who’d been standing right behind her.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he said, steadying her by placing both hands on her upper arms. He immediately let go again, but not before giving her a gentle caress that sent shivers running down her spine—and not the good kind of shivers.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, quickly composing herself.
“The great and powerful Detective Kingsley. Obviously even our stalwart upholder of the law isn’t immune to the charms of the innocent and beguiling ingénue.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, more brusquely than she intended.
He laughed an obnoxious laugh. “Oh, dear me. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Detective Kingsley, if I’m not mistaken, is not getting any tonight.”
“Oh, Don,” she said. “You are—”
“Incorrigible? That, I am. And if you care to apply that age-old remedy for the wandering eye, my dear, I’m all yours.” He gave her a wink. “Use me as you see fit.”
