Purr M for Murder Page 2

  As he stood framed in the doorway, I took a minute to study him. He was tall and thin, with a pinched face, a beak nose, and a shock of unruly red-gold hair that he combed low to hide his receding hairline. Today he was dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit with shoes polished so bright, you could almost see your reflection. Littleton stepped inside the shop, shut the door behind him, and strode imperiously over to the counter where he stood, surveying us over his wire-rimmed spectacles. His lips thinned as he gave Kat a curt nod. “Ms. McCall,” he said stiffly. His gaze shifted to me, and he raised a brow inquiringly.

  “Mr. Littleton,” Kat said stiffly. She laid a hand on my arm. “This is my sister, Sydney. She’s recently relocated here from New York.”

  “Oh?” Interest flickered briefly in his beady eyes, and he fastened his gaze on me. “New York, eh? What happened? Big-city life too much for you?”

  “Not at all,” I answered, making sure to keep my tone cool. Arrogant people like Littleton tended to get on my nerves rather quickly. “You might say I felt a yen to return to my southern roots.”

  “Hmpf.” His gaze shifted briefly to Kat, then flickered away. “I’m surprised to find you here, Ms. McCall,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be out saving raccoons, or whatever the animal in peril is at the moment, or something?”

  Beside me, I felt Kat stiffen. Whereas I’ve been known to get overpassionate on a subject, my sister is usually calm, cool, and level-headed—that is, unless something happens to trigger her temper. Then, trust me, all bets are off. Nothing, I knew, could get a rise out of Kat faster than a slur on her beloved shelter. I reached out, grabbed her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She let out a breath, and her shoulders relaxed. I did note her clenched jaw, though, as she answered, “Not today, Mr. Littleton.”

  Dayna, apparently sensing the tension, stepped forward. “So nice of you to drop by my shop, Mr. Littleton,” she said. Her voice sounded even more syrupy than the sweet tea she loved to serve on a particularly hot day. “Can I get you something? Hot coffee? Iced coffee? Cappuccino?”

  Some hot sauce in your coffee? I thought but didn’t voice aloud.

  He drew himself up to his full height, probably somewhere around five foot seven, only about three inches taller than me in my stocking feet. “Thanks but no thanks,” he said stiffly. “I am not here for liquid refreshment.”

  Dayna arched a brow. “No? Then perhaps you’d like a fresh-baked muffin or brownie?”

  He glanced over at the display case, shook his head. “I’m not hungry, either.” He fixed Dana with a hawkish stare before pointing to the cat café sign on the counter. “I cannot believe that you are actually going to do this.”

  Dayna’s rigid posture relaxed, and she faced him, unblinking. “Why not? It’s really a very humane undertaking.”

  “Humph,” he sniffed. “It would have been more humane to just let the animals find homes on their own. Why, this project is little more than a glorified petting zoo—much like the shelter itself.”

  Kat drew herself up to her full height. “We’re much more than that, Mr. Littleton. Which you would know if you ever bothered to visit us.”

  “Visit you? Hah. That’ll be the day.” He tossed Kat a scornful look. “I did send you a letter detailing my concerns, Ms. McCall, which I notice you have summarily ignored.”

  Kat’s shoulders squared, and her jaw thrust forward. I squeezed her hand—hard—and then turned my head so that I could look him straight in the eye. “I’m curious. Just what are your concerns, Mr. Littleton?”

  His eyes narrowed. Dayna cut in quickly with, “Sydney’s working at the shelter too. She’s the new publicity director. I’m sure she can address your . . . concerns.”

  “Publicity director?” Littleton let out a snort. “I imagine the shelter needs all the help it can get. Okay then.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and looked me up and down. “Well, for one thing—how are these animals to be presented? Are they just to be set free to roam about this establishment?”

  “Of course not.” I swept my arm in the direction of the storeroom turned playroom. “The cats are all set up in what we refer to as a ‘pop-up’ area, an area specifically designated for humans and cats to mingle. We realize that not everyone has an affinity for cats, or for sharing their coffee time with animals. So, for a modest fee, you can take your coffee and snack into our play area, where the cats are allowed to roam out of the cages. The customer is allowed to pet them, interact with them—although we do advise against feeding them any of the baked goods or coffees. There are treats provided if one wishes to feed the kitties.”

  “Oh.” Littleton seemed a little taken aback by my statement. Apparently he’d envisioned walking into Sweets and Treats and seeing it overflowing with roaming felines. “So if someone were allergic, let’s say . . .”

  “The cats are in a confined area, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” I fixed him with a baleful stare. “Why, are you allergic?”

  “Me? Most certainly not.” He shifted his position, and for the first time, I noticed the clipboard tucked under his arm. “I’m merely thinking of the welfare of the customers. It seems to me that serving food in such an atmosphere wouldn’t be the healthiest.”

  I thought about all the times my mother had made supper with old Ginger, the family calico, either meowing at her feet or watching closely from a nearby counter for scraps. “As I said, the cats are confined to one area, so . . . not a problem.”

  He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and swiped at a bead of perspiration on his forehead, then pointed an accusing finger at Kat. “You are so fixated on your quest to get revenue for that shelter that you can’t grasp the simple point I was trying to make.”

  Kat’s brows drew together, etching a deep line in the center of her forehead. “And that is?”

  “That this little project of yours could adversely affect the retail community! The kinds of people who would stop to drink coffee and play with kittens might not be the types of people who’d be interested in purchasing fine art. Or jewelry or antiques, for that matter! You’re so fixated on your shelter, you’re not even considering how this event will affect the shopkeepers on this block.”

  Dayna, who’d been standing off to the side listening quietly, now let out a sound that sounded very much like a snarl. “I beg your pardon, but . . . you’re crazy. I don’t see how my partnering with Friendly Paws can be anything but a positive influence on our little retail community.”

  His tongue darted out like a snake, licked at his painfully thin lips. “I disagree,” he rumbled. “And I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

  Dayna frowned. “No one else has an issue,” she said.

  He snorted. “That you know of. But mark my words, once they think about it . . .”

  Dayna crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’ve heard just about enough. So unless you want to order something, I’d like you to leave. Now.”

  Littleton shook his clipboard in the air and fixed Kat with a burning stare, which she returned unflinchingly. “Oh, I’ll leave . . . for now. But this isn’t over, not by a long shot. Trust me, even if you manage to pull this . . . this event off, your shelter still isn’t in the clear.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “Is that a threat, Mr. Littleton?”

  His lips twisted in a sneer. “Oh, it’s much more than that, Ms. McCall. It’s a promise. You and your shelter haven’t seen the last of me.”

  Littleton tucked his clipboard back under his arm, turned on his heel, and stomped toward the door. He whipped it open just as a young girl pushed past him at the speed of light. The force sent Littleton tumbling backward. He managed to keep his balance, but his clipboard clattered to the floor.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” squeaked the girl. I recognized her as Sissy Arledge. She was a high school junior who volunteered at the shelter two nights a week. She also worked for Dayna part time. She started to bend over to retrieve the clipboard, but Littleton beat her to it.
He whipped it out from under her fingers, straightened, tucked it back under his arm, and regarded her with fire in his eyes.

  “Don’t you watch where you’re going, you impertinent young thing?” he cried.

  Sissy’s face crumpled. “I said I was sorry,” she murmured.

  “Sorry, hah!” Littleton tugged at his jacket, reached up a hand to straighten his tie. “I greatly doubt that. You’re like most of the youth today. You only care about yourself. You’re not even cognizant of the people around you. Your parents should have done a better job of teaching you manners, missy.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red flush start to creep up Kat’s neck. Sissy was a shelter volunteer and therefore fell under the umbrella of one of Kat’s employees. One thing I knew—my sister was extremely protective of people who worked for her, like a mother lion protecting her cub. She whirled to face Littleton, her hands on her hips.

  “Sissy’s manners are just fine,” she said in an even tone. “And I’ll thank you not to insult my employee.”

  Littleton stared down his nose at her, no easy feat, since Kat was only about an inch shorter than him. “I beg your pardon. She knocked into me.” He paused. “Wait. Did you say your employee?”

  “That’s right,” Kat responded, her tone smug. “Sissy volunteers at the shelter, therefore she’s also my employee. As for bumping into you, she didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident.”

  Dayna reached out and touched Sissy’s arm. “Sissy, get yourself a cup of coffee before you start your shift.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” muttered the teen. She scurried off without a backward glance.

  Kat turned back to Littleton. “I didn’t appreciate your comments in your letter, and I didn’t appreciate your behavior here today. You are welcome to your opinion on the shelter, but please bear in mind that it is your opinion and not reflective of the entire retail community.”

  Littleton’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s what you think, Ms. McCall.” He wiggled his fingers. “Money talks, you know. I’m rather influential in this community.”

  “And you seem to overlook the fact that most people here possess basic humanity,” Kat said hotly. “You can complain all you want, Mr. Littleton, about both this event and the shelter. I don’t care how much money you have, or how you wave it under people’s noses, but I assure you that this time it will get you nowhere. This event is happening on Saturday.”

  Littleton’s lips drew back in a snarl. “Over my dead body.”

  Kat turned her back on him. “Don’t tempt me,” she flung over her shoulder. Her next words came out with a snarl. “Mess with my shelter, Littleton, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  Chapter Two

  For a minute after Littleton charged out the door, we all just sat in stunned silence. Then Dayna let out a slow breath.

  “Well that was . . . exciting?”

  We all started to laugh. “Frankly, excitement like that, I can do without,” I said.

  “I think after Littleton, we all need to get the bad taste out of our mouths. I’ve got some cherry scones coming out of the oven. How about a scone and a big mug of that Kona coffee?” Dayna turned toward Kat and winked broadly. “The way you stood up to that man, you deserve some sort of reward.”

  We both flashed Dayna a grateful smile. “Sounds good,” said Kat.

  We made our way to a table while Dayna bustled off to the kitchen. I noted that the man who’d been sitting at the rear table had vanished, most likely scared off by Littleton, and we settled into the table next to the one that had been formerly occupied. I leaned forward and placed my hand on my sister’s arm. “I had a feeling there was a bit more to all this. Why didn’t you tell me he sent you a letter?”

  She sighed. “I was going to tell you, I really was, but the right moment never came up. To be perfectly honest, I can’t see how anyone, no matter how influential they think they are, would want to put a stop to something that could benefit so many defenseless animals. Although after this display today, I can’t help but wonder.”

  “Well . . .” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my legs out in front of me. “I think Littleton’s got the market cornered on selfish. He makes Ebenezer Scrooge look like a saint.”

  I saw Kat’s lips twitch. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Well, I guess I lost my cool with him, but I just couldn’t take any more after he was so rude to Sissy.”

  “Could he make trouble for us?” I asked.

  Kat reached up to tug absently at a blonde curl. “He’d certainly try. I know he was a large contributor to the mayor’s campaign.” She let out a long sigh. “He was never a fan of the shelter, but his attitude toward it has gotten worse recently.”

  “Yeah, it’s like he’s obsessed.” I stroked at my chin. “Remember what Nana used to say.”

  “Never trust someone who doesn’t like animals.” Kat rubbed at the sensitive spot above her nose with her fingers, a sign she was getting a headache. “I hope he doesn’t turn the other shopkeepers against the idea. I was hoping you might work your PR magic and get some of them interested in sponsoring similar events.”

  “Let’s not overreact,” I advised. I nodded toward Dayna, who was coming toward us with a tray laden with coffee and scones. “Let’s just enjoy our break. But when we get back to the shelter, I want you to show me that letter.”

  “Okay,” my sister said, but she avoided my gaze. I remembered her doing pretty much the same thing when we were kids, when she used to hold something back from me. I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case now.

  * * *

  We returned to the shelter, but we didn’t get to peruse Littleton’s letter right away. An abandoned cat was getting ready to deliver a litter of kittens, and that occupied the next few hours. At last, once the mama cat had delivered a healthy brood of three newborns, we left Maggie and another volunteer, Viola Kizis, to the task of tending to mother and children and retreated back to Kat’s office just shortly before six PM. She opened the middle drawer of her desk, pulled out a piece of heavy, cream-colored stationery, and passed it across to me. I sat in silence for several minutes, deciphering the flowery handwriting and getting madder by the minute as I did. Finally, I looked up at my sister.

  “Oh my God. He can’t be serious.”

  “That’s what I thought—at first. But now I’m not so sure.”

  I shook the letter in the air. “The man’s a menace,” I cried. “He actually thinks the shelter is a detriment to the town!”

  Kat nodded, her lips drawn downward. “Oh, yes. I especially liked the part where he says the mayor should concentrate on areas that will help people, not animals. I hate to say this, but it almost sounds as if he’s lobbying to get the shelter closed down.”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” I cried. “He’d make more enemies than friends if he spearheaded a campaign like that.”

  “Maybe,” Kat mumbled. “I’m sure he’d find some way to do it, though, so he wouldn’t appear to be too much of a bad guy.”

  “Any way would make him look like a bad guy, if you ask me,” I said staunchly as I tossed the letter onto the desk. “The man’s a lunatic, pure and simple.”

  “Hey, hey, who are you calling a lunatic? Not me, I hope?”

  We both glanced up. We’d been so absorbed in Littleton’s letter, we never even noticed the office door opening until the woman standing in the doorway spoke.

  “I hope you girls haven’t eaten, because I’ve got pizza and a nice pinot grigio.”

  I jumped up out of my chair and hurried to divest the newcomer of the large pizza box she balanced in one hand. “Leila. Oh my God. This is great. I was just wishing for a slice of Bella’s Pizza.” I gave her a quizzical look. “I thought you had to work late tonight?”

  “It started out that way, but then old Parker got Mina Drayton to cover the Heritage Society tea, so I’m free as a bird tonight. I hope you two like pepperoni, onion, and mushroom, by the way.”
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  “Our favorites.” Kat pushed back her chair and crossed over to the large file cabinet against the far wall. “Unless I’m mistaken, there should be some paper plates and cups in one of these drawers.”

  While Kat rummaged through the file cabinet, I set the pizza box down on the small table by the window. Leila set her tote and the brown bag that read “Lambert’s Liquors” down next to the pizza box, then stripped off her light French terry jacket and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs. I gave my friend’s outfit—a slim black pencil skirt with a stunning, soft-looking petal-pink sweater—an appraising glance. With her mane of perfectly coiffed dark-red hair, high cheekbones, and almond-shaped eyes, one might take her for a runway model rather than a fashion-and-society reporter. Leila caught me looking and grinned. She placed her hands on her hips and swayed them in an exaggerated pirouette. “Not bad for thirty-five, eh?”

  “No one would take you for a day over thirty. But honestly, you didn’t have to dress up just for us,” I said teasingly.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I just never went home to change.” Leila flopped down on one of the hard-backed chairs and kicked off one of the killer heels she wore. “I swear that Paul Mastin is an expert at thinking up things to keep me in that office later than I should be.”

  I looked my friend up and down. “That’s because he’s got a major crush on you.”