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Authors: Elaine Viets

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Cozy, #Women Sleuths, #Amateur Sleuth, #General

Catnapped! (9 page)

BOOK: Catnapped!
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Peg, an unflappable veteran of the restaurant wars, rushed over and helped Zach to his feet. She wiped his face with a napkin. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said. “I won’t be having dinner. I don’t feel so good. My stomach’s acting up.”

CHAPTER 12

Wednesday/Thursday

Z
ach lurched through the silent restaurant, clutching his gut. Near the hostess stand, he stumbled and started to fall. A worried Peg, who’d been walking beside him, caught Zach and guided him out the door.

Maybe he really is sick, Helen thought. He did look pale.

After Zach left, the show was over. The restaurant resumed its noisy hum.

Margery hissed at Elsie, “Thanks for the surprise party. I’m leaving. Find your own way home. You’re good at arranging things.”

Elsie reached for her friend’s hand. “Margery, please forgive me,” she said. Tears streaked her face. Her cheerful cherry pink frizz had flattened into sad strings.

Margery slapped away her hand like it was an annoying insect, then stomped out.

“I didn’t mean it,” Elsie said, her face crumpling. Phil hugged her and let her cry on his shoulder.

“If you could have seen Margery and Zach when they were young,” she said. “They were so in love, they had a . . . a radiance.
I know Zach was wrong when he took up with Daisy. He knows it, too. When he called me, he sounded so contrite.”

“He called you?” Helen said. That rat, dragging softhearted Elsie into his mess.

“He came by my house and told me everything,” Elsie said. “I told him he shouldn’t have surprised Margery at the Coronado. The shock of seeing him after so many years was too much. He suggested meeting her at this restaurant. They used to come here when they were courting. I thought if Margery would listen to him, they’d get back together.”

Poor Elsie, Helen thought. Along with her schoolgirl outfit, she had a girlish faith in true love. She didn’t understand Zach’s betrayal had burned away that incandescent love.

Helen did. She still remembered the white-hot hate blasting through her when she’d caught her ex with another woman. That savage rage had consumed her love for Rob.

Elsie sat up, sniffling, and Phil handed her his pocket handkerchief. “Such a gentleman,” she said, dabbing her damp eyes. “Thank you.”

“Elsie, it’s over,” Helen said softly. “Zach and Margery are different people now. They can’t get back together. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” Elsie said with great dignity. “I’d like to go home, please.”

Helen left enough cash to cover their drinks, plus a generous tip.

“Do you think Margery will forgive me?” Elsie said. “We’ve been friends since we were girls, almost seventy years.”

“Give her time to cool down,” Helen said.

Phil helped Elsie toward the door. She seemed sad and crushed. Her sagging bosom strained her white blouse, her short plaid skirt clashed with her varicose veins and her stylish Mary Janes showcased her bunions.

Cruel snickers followed Elsie. Helen glared at the woman’s tormentors. Elsie’s friendship with Margery stretched back to when they both wore schoolgirl clothes without the sneery comments.

Helen and Phil made sure Elsie was settled at home. “Poor Elsie,” Helen said, as they drove to the Coronado. “She meant well. What do we say when we see Margery?”

“Let her set the tone,” Phil said. “She’ll discuss it when she’s ready. Margery’s had too many people trying to tell her what to do lately.”

Back at the Coronado, the lights were on in Margery’s place. Helen and Phil hurried inside his apartment, grateful they didn’t run into their landlady.

“How about if I defrost those shrimp and make scampi?” he asked.

“Yum,” Helen said. “I’ll chop garlic and do the salad.”

They worked together quickly and well and dinner was soon on the table. “What are you doing tomorrow, besides waiting for the kidnapper to call?” Helen asked, as she sampled her plate of garlicky, buttery shrimp. “This scampi is fabulous.”

“I want to track down Amber, Mort’s other girlfriend.”

“The pole-dancing actress? I wish I could see that one,” Helen said.

“You could,” Phil said. “I can video it on my phone.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“I’ll have her consent,” Phil said. “I’ll tell her my partner loves
Rock of Ages.
You want to see one of the pole dancers from that awesome scene in the club.”

“I do?” Helen said.

“Yes. That’s why you insist that I record the interview. You’re such a fan.”

“I’ll really be a fan if you get her to talk,” Helen said, stifling a yawn.

He took her plate and kissed her cheek. “I’ll clean up. Go to bed.”

The next thing Helen knew, Phil was shaking her awake. “Helen! Get up! It’s after seven!”

“No! I’m fired if I’m late.” Helen sprang out of bed and threw on shorts, shirt and sandals. “Good thing I don’t have to be as well-groomed as the cats,” she said, as Phil gave her an energy bar and coffee and pushed her out the door.

At Dee’s she raced into the cattery, slightly out of breath. Jan looked at the clock. “Relax. You have five minutes to spare,” she said. “Dee’s in a foul mood. Keep out of her way. It’s bath time for Mystery. I’ll supervise.”

Helen picked up the sleepy smoky gray Persian and started to hold her against her chest. “No, she doesn’t like to be carried that way,” Jan said. “Stretch out your arm.”

Helen held out her right arm and Mystery rode it, her chest in Helen’s hand, her legs dangling. “Show cats are trained to be carried that way,” Jan said. “The exhibitor can keep one hand free. Also, it doesn’t mess up their fur as much.”

Helen walked gingerly to the grooming table. “She’s such a pretty shade of gray,” she said.

“Blue,” Jan corrected. “Pedigreed cats are blue, not gray.”

Helen stared at the fur, but it looked gray as a rainy day. “Do you have a cat at home?” she asked.

“No,” Jan said. “After waiting on these babies, I don’t have time for one.” She scratched Mystery’s ears. “I get my feline fix at work. Don’t forget to lay out your tools. I’ll keep you in warm towels.”

The sweet-faced Persian didn’t seem to mind Helen’s bumbling bathing. She stood patiently while Helen combed her long, thick coat. “Is Dee married?” Helen asked.

“Sure,” Jan said. “To a real sweet guy, Justin Chatwood. He’s
got the money. He’s in Brazil now. Justin travels a lot, which, I suspect, is the only way to stay married to Dee.”

She lowered her voice and turned on the water in the other sink. “Justin had an affair with Trish.”

“Mort’s wife?” Helen asked.

“I think someone at the country club told Dee. She was livid. I went looking for Midnight about a month ago and heard Dee screaming at Justin in the living room. She shouted that she was leaving for good. He begged her—I mean literally—to forgive him. Swore it would never happen again. Dee said she wanted to think about it, but she took him back.”

“Did she really forgive Justin?” Helen said. “She doesn’t seem the forgiving type.”

Jan shrugged. “Maybe she did. Maybe she took a long look at her bank account. She can’t keep these cats on the money she makes. But I don’t think she’ll ever forgive Trish, who’s younger and better-looking.”

“What would Trish see in Justin?” Helen asked.

“Oh, you’ve never met him,” Jan said, and smiled. “He’s older, but he’s sexy and suave, as my mother would say. Same social background as Trish. She likes money, and Mort had plenty of it, but Justin has more. Trish kind of looked down her nose at Mort. That hurt him. Eventually, he had enough and turned to me.” She smiled at the memory, then looked stricken. Mort was gone, along with their life together.

“Do you think Dee framed Trish for Mort’s murder?” Helen asked.

Jan paused for a long moment. “She’s devious enough. At first I thought Trish killed him. But now I remember how mad Dee was at her cheating husband.

“After a day or so, they were all kissy-kissy, walking around here holding hands. But when he wasn’t around, she lashed out at everyone. She went through three assistants in three weeks. One
afternoon, she ordered me into her office. I figured she was going to chew me out again. She did, but first she made me stand by her desk while she talked on the phone. She had the new issue of the
South Florida Society Chronicle
.”

“The glossy mag that’s all society parties?” Helen asked.

“That’s the one. It was open to a story about some charity ball, featuring Trish in a black diva dress. While she talked on the phone, Dee stabbed out Trish’s eyes.”

“What do you mean?” Helen asked.

“She actually punched holes in Trish’s eyes with a ballpoint. Gave me the creeps.”

Mystery lightly patted Helen’s arm with a paw. “Sorry, girl, I’ve been rinsing you long enough,” Helen said. She turned off the water and wrapped the cat in a warm towel. “When I finish Mystery, what’s next?”

“Litter boxes and cattery cleaning,” Jan said. “Then we can go home at four. We’ll work longer hours as we get closer to the show. I need to check on my cat.”

Huh? Before Helen could say, “What cat?” Mystery knocked over a bottle of shampoo and she forgot to ask.

Helen came home to construction chaos at the Coronado. The dented white Fort Lauderdale Construction van and two rusty pickups took the guest parking spots. Sal Steer, the slab-faced boss, was directing a hard-hatted crew. Scaffolding covered the front of the building, and a worker with a noisy jackhammer was tearing out part of Margery’s wall.

Helen carefully stepped around the equipment and tools and ducked into her apartment to shower and change. She could feel the
rat-a-tat-tat
of the jackhammer through the wall. She wondered how long the Coronado would be torn up. Thumbs must be frantic. She found her cat pacing Phil’s apartment.

She soothed him with talk and treats, then went upstairs to their office. Phil was pacing, too.

“Any calls?” she shouted over the jackhammer.

“No,” he screamed back, and then suddenly the din stopped. “Nothing from the catnapper. Nancie says our client was denied bail. Trish is having a hard time in jail.”

“She must be terrified,” Helen said.

“I called Mort’s girlfriend, Amber Waves, and she agreed to meet me at the studio where she works part-time, teaching pole-dance fitness.”

“You’re kidding? Who takes those classes?”

“The women looked like soccer moms with a sprinkling of businesswomen on their lunch hour. Here. I videoed the interview with my iPhone. Amber was changing into her outfit. That’s her voice you hear. She’s in the dressing room.”

Helen watched the grainy video. Phil wasn’t in it. He’d aimed the camera at the slatted dressing-room door. She saw a dance floor with mirrors and a ballet barre along one wall. Four poles ran down the center of the room.

“Are you really a detective, Phil?” Amber asked. Her voice was soft and teasing. The hackles rose on the back of Helen’s neck.

“Licensed and everything,” he said.

“And your partner saw
Rock of Ages
and liked it?” Amber asked.

“Loved it,” Phil said. “We both did. The pole dancing at the Venus Club was amazing.”

“Well, what does your partner think of this?” Amber said, and threw open the dressing-room door.

“Uh,” Phil said.

“It’s my movie outfit,” she said.

Amber was curvier than Trish. Her honey blond curls swept past her shoulders. She probably had more hair than clothes. She wore a retro black bikini sparkling with sequins, and ankle-strap heels.

“Well?” she asked, thrusting her hips forward. “Do you think your partner would like me in this?” She stuck out her long
slender legs, put her hand on her hip and twirled. Most of her well-toned bottom was exposed.

Helen growled.

“Uh, my partner is my wife,” Phil said. “She’d look good in that outfit.”

“Nice save,” Helen said to her husband. Was he sweating?

“Oh. So you’re married,” Amber said. Helen heard her disappointment.

“Very,” Phil said. “I’m investigating Mort’s murder. I understand you used to date.”

Amber reached into the dressing room for a white terry robe and slipped it on. “I did. Are you going to ask me where I was at the time of the murder, like in the movies?”

“Okay,” Phil said, “where were you?”

“Here. Teaching a class for charity.” She handed him a flyer advertising the event and a sign-in sheet, dated the day of Mort’s murder, with a list of names.

“Thanks. This makes my job easier,” Phil said. “Tell me about you and Mort.”

“We were going to get married once his divorce was final.”

“How long did you go out?” Phil asked.

“You have to understand, I never date married men,” Amber said. “As a pole specialist, I met a lot of unhappy husbands at the club where I worked.”

“A pole specialist?” Helen said. “I bet.”

“Hey,” Phil said. “That’s what she calls herself. Deal with it.”

“Mort came to the club often,” Amber said. “He was so generous and so unhappy, well, our love just happened. He knew I wanted to leave the club. He helped pay for my dancing lessons and hired a professional photographer to take head shots that showed my full range. He even paid for a video. He found me a good agent, not some sleaze. That’s how I got the part in
Rock of Ages
.

“He wanted to finance my pole-dancing fitness studio. Pole
dancing is a difficult discipline. It’s Pilates, yoga and ballet all rolled into one.”

What position is that hip thrust? Helen thought. She didn’t dare say anything.

“Mort was so invested in my career, I thought we’d play house and open the studio once he left Trish. We would have, too, if it hadn’t been for that stupid cat.”

“Justine?” Phil said.

“Yes. That cat groomer, Jan Kurtz, wormed her way into Mort’s life, telling him she could help Justine be a Gold Cup Cat Show national winner. He started spending less time with me, but I didn’t notice. I was busy with the movie. I met Tom Cruise when we made
Rock of Ages
. He plays the rocker, Stacee Jaxx. Tom is the nicest man. Those tattoos he wore in the movie were fake and he’d get so sweaty they’d come off. Juli—that’s Julianne Hough—she was Sherrie, the small-town girl. She said I was a marvelous dancer.”

“So, which pole dancer were you?” Phil said. “There were five.”

“Pole specialist,” she said. “My part wound up on the cutting-room floor. You’re the only person who knows, except for my mom and my agent. I got paid and everything. And there’s no shame in being cut. Juli and Tom did an incredible pole dance to ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ that was cut from the cinema release. But you can see it on the extended-cut Blu-ray version.”

BOOK: Catnapped!
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