Purr M for Murder Read online

  Kat avoided meeting Sissy’s gaze as she answered, “Why do you ask?”

  Sissy leaned against the doorjamb. “There was quite a bit of excitement downtown this morning. Did you hear that ambulance and the police siren? I thought something happened at the gym, but Viola insists she saw the ambulance stop in front of The Brush and Canvas.”

  I shifted my tote bag on my arm. “Score one for Viola. She was right. Trowbridge Littleton is dead.”

  Sissy’s eyes almost popped out of her skull. “What? How?”

  Everyone followed me as I walked into the small kitchen. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw that the coffeepot on the stove was nearly full. I crossed over, got a mug out of the upper cabinet, and poured myself a steaming cup. It was the new blend Dayna had given us to try, and it smelled wonderful. As I opened the refrigerator, looking for milk, I answered, “Hard to say. It might have been natural causes.”

  Sissy frowned. “As opposed to what? Unnatural?”

  Kat came over, holding a mug that had “Friendly Paws” emblazoned across it. “Speculation is pointless right now until the police complete their investigation.”

  “The police are investigating? Uh-oh!” Sissy shifted the kitten against her chest and waved a finger in the air. “Say, how do you guys know all this?”

  “Easy,” Kat said, setting the coffeepot back on the stove. “We’re the ones who found him.”

  Sissy staggered backward with a loud gasp and placed her free hand over her heart. It was easy to see why she’d been elected president of the drama club. The girl had a dramatic streak a mile wide. “Oh gosh! You found him? What was that like? How did you feel? Was there a lot of blood?”

  “It wasn’t exactly a picnic,” I answered. “And no, there was no blood to speak of.”

  “No blood? Bummer!” Her lips curved downward in a disappointed scowl. “How did he look? It had to be an improvement, ’cause he sure didn’t look that great alive.”

  “Sissy!” Kat said reproachfully. “That’s not nice—the man is dead.”

  “Yeah, well, he wasn’t too nice to me yesterday,” the girl grumbled. “And it was an accident! I didn’t mean to bump into him like that, but he acted like I did it on purpose.”

  “We know that,” Kat said evenly. “But you should still show some respect.”

  “What for?” the girl snorted. “He sure had no respect for anyone.” She raised a defiant glance my way. “I bet he didn’t look too hot dead either.”

  “Who’s dead?”

  We all turned to see Maggie standing in the kitchen doorway. She moved forward, wiping her hands on the white apron she wore. “I’d like to report that Mama Cat and babies are doing just fine,” she said with a wide smile. “The kitties are feeding, and everyone seems content.”

  Kat let out a deep sigh. “Good news—finally.”

  Maggie’s features arranged themselves into a worried expression. “Did something happen? On my way here, I noticed that the top of the street is blocked off, and The Brush and Canvas has yellow-and-black tape around the outside.”

  “You could say that,” I began, but Sissy interrupted me, her eyes round.

  “That man I told you about who yelled at Kat and Syd yesterday? He got iced.”

  “Iced?”

  “As in finished, kaput, the big chill . . . he’s dead.”

  Maggie swung her startled gaze to me. “What? Good Lord!”

  “Okay, he wasn’t exactly yelling at us,” I said. I wagged my finger at Sissy. “And ‘iced’ is such a crude term.” Turning back to Maggie, I added, “It’s not official whether or not there was foul play involved, but . . . it’s true. Trowbridge Littleton is dead.”

  “My word!” Maggie’s hand fluttered over her chest. “I take it all that crime scene tape means he didn’t die of natural causes?”

  “That’s yet to be determined,” Kat said.

  “Well, one good thing,” Sissy observed. “At least you don’t have to worry about him making trouble about the cat café event now.”

  “No,” Kat sighed. “I guess not.”

  We were all silent for a moment, and then Maggie abruptly turned to me. “Well, onto more pleasant topics,” she said briskly. “I spoke with Dayna last night. She’s going to have a special menu printed up, just for the participants in the cat program.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Kat and I both chorused.

  Maggie grinned. “I thought you’d think so.” She pointed to a cake plate on the counter. “She sent some brownies that she’s going to serve for us to sample, along with some other treats. Said to let her know if there was anything we didn’t like.”

  “Good.” I motioned toward the small table. “Why don’t we all sit down, have a cup of coffee, and sample Dayna’s treats?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sissy said. “Just let me put Harley back.”

  I arched a brow. “Harley?”

  “Sure,” Sissy said, grinning. “She’s purring just like my cousin Brad’s motorcycle.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Maggie said abruptly. She looked at us. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  We all trooped into the cattery. As Sissy replaced Harley in her cage, Maggie went over to the table in the far corner. There was a large box on top. Maggie opened it and whipped out two manila folders. She handed one to Kat and one to me.

  “I had them made up at the Staples on the highway,” she said. “Doug Schooney gave me a 40 percent discount. Viola and I made them up last week.”

  I opened my folder. Inside were several sheets of paper with photographs of cats on them. Next to each photo was a small bio of the cat.

  “The first pages are the cats we’ll be showing,” Maggie said, “and the rest are all the ones we’ve got available for adoption right now.”

  There was silence for a few moments as Kat and I riffled through the folders. Finally, Kat looked up at Maggie. “What a great idea,” she said.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “If one of the cats at the event doesn’t appeal, perhaps one still here at the shelter will.” I walked over to one of the cages, where an entirely black tomcat lay. He perked up as I approached, then sat up. He pressed his head against the wire cage and let out a soft meow. I wiggled my fingers at him, and his pink tongue darted out to lick them. I looked at the name tag on the cage. “Take Jet here. He’s not a part of the event, but he’s a sweetie. Someone might want him, even though he’s an older cat.”

  “Most people want kittens. They shy away from the older cats. It’s unfortunate,” Maggie shook her head emphatically. “Older cats are usually more docile. They’re actually the perfect pet.” She moved over to another cage that contained a pretty brown Seal-point Siamese with incredible blue eyes. “This sweetie is a sure thing. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting Karma.”

  I walked over for a closer look at the cat, who was indeed beautiful. “Is she a pedigree?”

  “Oh, yes. Karma came to us when her owner got transferred to Philadelphia and couldn’t take her along. He was really heartbroken to leave her. As a matter of fact, the moment she’s adopted, I have to send him a photo of Karma with her new family.”

  Kat shot me a mischievous glance. “Getting the itch to adopt, Syd?”

  “Maybe.” I glanced down at the folder I still held in my hand. The top sheet had Toby’s picture on it. “Pedigrees can be a bit finicky, though.”

  Both Kat and Maggie burst out laughing. “Admit it, Syd. You like Toby.” Kat pointed to my folder. “You’ve been stealing glances at his picture ever since you fished it out of the folder, and I saw you look over at his empty cage more than once.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I gave them both a sheepish grin. “I’ve always been partial to what Gram used to call the ‘ginger’ cats,” I admitted. “I have to say, though, I’m surprised to see you included him in the event grouping.”

  “Well, technically Toby isn’t ginger. He’s got a lot of white in him,” said Maggie. “We included him in the
group because, quite frankly, I’m afraid if we left him here at the shelter, he’d just find a way to wander off,” said Maggie. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not expecting anyone to want to actually adopt him. And if by some chance, someone does . . .” She shrugged. “Unless that person fits Toby’s bill of the perfect human, mark my words, no one’s getting him. He’ll find a way to discourage the adoption.”

  “I thought I saw him,” I blurted. “Last night, at the window in the storage room.” And today, in Littleton’s office. But I didn’t say the latter out loud.

  “Really? Well, what do you know?” Maggie reached out and patted my hand. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

  I glanced toward the cattery door. “Is Toby in there? I could have a look.”

  Maggie shook her head. “He was in his cage earlier, but now he’s out again.” Further conversation was halted by a loud banging on the shelter door. “Goodness!” Maggie jumped out of her chair. “Who could that be? The hours are clearly posted—we don’t open till eleven.” She pulled down the edges of her jacket and set her jaw. “I’ll politely tell whoever it is to come back later.” She paused and then snatched up a flyer from the table. “Never hurts to advertise,” she mumbled.

  I looked at Kat. “I think maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you should have made Maggie your director of publicity.”

  Kat laughed. “What, you think you were my first choice? Mags turned me down flat. She didn’t want all that responsibility.”

  We laughed and then stopped abruptly as Maggie appeared in the kitchen doorway. She pushed her glasses down on her nose and said in an agitated tone, “Syd, Kat, there’s someone here to see you.” I turned my head slightly, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw Detective Bennington standing to Maggie’s left. His expression was impassive as he regarded us, and he inclined his head slightly in greeting. Kat touched my arm. “Now what does he want?” she muttered.

  “Will said they’d probably have more questions for us. I was hoping he’d be the one to ask them, though.” I jumped up and hurried over to him. “Detective Bennington,” I said. “What a . . . pleasant surprise. We didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” I glanced around. “Will’s not with you?”

  “Detective Worthington had a few other things to attend to.” He glanced over at the table where Kat sat, the folders spread out in front of her. “Is this a bad time?”

  Every time is bad, I thought, but I smiled and said, “Not at all. We were just going over some paperwork for the event Saturday.”

  “Event?” He looked puzzled for a few seconds, and then his expression cleared. “Ah, yes. The cat café.” He glanced again at the myriad of folders. “Sounds . . . interesting.”

  “Are you an animal lover, Detective?” I asked smoothly. “If so, you’re welcome to drop by.”

  “I just might do that,” he murmured. “I had a little Pekingese pup, but she passed away last year. Fourteen years old. I figured with my job, I wouldn’t take on another dog, but . . . cats are much easier for a working person.” He sniffed at the air. “What smells so good?”

  “We’ve got a pot of cinnamon-caramel coffee on, and we have some samples that Dayna Harper sent over for us to try. Double-fudge brownies and a walnut cheesecake.” He sniffed at the air again, and the phrase Keep your friends close and your enemies closer popped into my mind. “Could I get you something?”

  He hesitated, but apparently his rumbling stomach won out over his desire to question me. “I’ll have a cup of that coffee and a brownie,” he said.

  “Surely. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get it for you?”

  Bennington pulled out a chair across from Kat, who looked to me like she’d like to crawl down into the floor and take the floor right along with her. Maggie and Sissy beat a hasty retreat into the cattery, but I had the feeling curiosity would win out and Sissy would be listening at the door before too long. I pointedly pushed the kitchen door open all the way as a deterrent before pouring coffee into another Friendly Paws mug. I set it on a small tray along with a large brownie, some sugar packets, and creamers and brought the whole thing over to Bennington. His eyes lit up when he saw it, and he immediately plucked the mug from the tray and put it to his lips without adding anything to the coffee. He took a long sip, set the mug back down.

  “Heavenly. You make a mean cup of coffee, Ms. McCall.” He pulled the plate with the brownie in front of him and picked up the pastry. He waved it in the air, motioning me to sit down. I slid into the chair next to him and watched as he took a bite of the brownie. He chewed, swallowed, then took the napkin off his lap and dabbed daintily at his lips.

  “Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  “I’ll be sure to let Dayna know you enjoyed it. So”—I let out a breath—“what can I do for you?”

  He took another bite, dabbed at his lips again, and then stuck his finger out at me. “I understand that you and your sister went to Littleton’s office to confront him regarding the shelter event?”

  I squirmed a bit in the chair under his hawklike gaze. “I wouldn’t say confront, exactly. We wanted to have a discussion. We’d learned that there was a possibility of his initiating a petition against the event, and we wanted to nip it in the bud.”

  “I see.” He shoved some more brownie into his mouth, chewed, and washed it down with another swig of coffee. “What time did you arrive at the office?”

  “Shortly before six AM.”

  Bennington’s eyebrows rose. “Rather early for a meeting, wouldn’t you say?”

  I shrugged. “We heard that Littleton always got into the gallery early, and we—we wanted to get it over with.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His head jerked up, and he jabbed a finger in the air. “What else did you touch in that office, besides the armoire?”

  “Not too much, really. Kat touched the wall looking for a light switch. We both touched the armoire, and I—I touched Littleton’s body.” As Bennington’s eyebrows rose, I stammered, “I-I felt his neck for a pulse. I wanted to see if he might still be alive.”

  “I see.” He bit off another chunk of brownie. “Did anything strike you as out of place?”

  I looked at him. “Well, it’s hard to say, because it was the first time either my sister or I were in that office, but I did get that impression, yes. Some of the drawers looked to me as if they’d been pulled out—maybe hastily looked through.”

  He wiped a crumb from the side of his mouth. “You were never in his office before?”

  “No.”

  “And your sister wasn’t either?”

  “That’s right,” I said evenly. “We never had a reason to ever go there to see Littleton—until this morning, that is.”

  “The man have any enemies you know of?”

  “I didn’t know him all that well. I’ve only been back in Deer Park a few weeks. But according to what I’ve heard, people weren’t too fond of him.”

  “You and your sister weren’t particularly fond of him either, were you?” Bennington bit out.

  “I told you, I hardly knew the man. I can’t speak for my sister.”

  Kat, who had been moodily silent up till now, turned to face the detective. “I can speak for myself. No, I wasn’t fond of the man. He was selfish and overbearing.”

  Bennington leaned forward. “It’s no secret that Littleton wanted not only to stop your upcoming event but to close the shelter permanently—isn’t that correct?”

  My lips thinned, but it was Kat who answered. “Apparently Mr. Littleton had . . . issues with the shelter, but I assure you I was quite unaware of the depth of his feelings until very recently.”

  “I see.” He popped the last of the brownie into his mouth, washed it down with a large gulp of coffee, and pushed back his chair. He half rose from his seat and then paused. “One more thing. You and your sister are aware that removing anything from a crime scene is a punishable offense?”

  I stared at him. “Yes, I’m well aware that’s a big
no-no, and my sister is too. Why in the world would you ask a question like that?”

  He shrugged. “No particular reason. I just thought that if you weren’t familiar with the law, I’d . . . remind you.”

  I had the distinct feeling there was more to it than just a gentle reminder, but I chose not to belabor the point. I smiled and said evenly, “Well, unless you have other, more pertinent questions, we have work to do, so . . .”

  “I think we’re done—for now,” he murmured. He whipped out his wallet, slid out a business card, and placed it on the table. “If you should remember anything of significance in the meantime, please call either me or Detective Worthington immediately.”

  And with that, he strode out of the shelter. I picked up the card and turned it over in my hand. Something else was up—I could just feel it. There was some reason Columbo Jr. had decided to get up close and personal with us. His veiled accusation that we might have removed something from the crime scene bothered me. Why would he think that? I thought about calling Will but then changed my mind. I didn’t want to put him in an awkward position. After all, Bennington was his partner.

  It was only after I’d jammed the money and the card into my jacket pocket that it dawned on me that I hadn’t been truthful with Bennington—I had removed something from The Brush and Canvas.

  The note that Toby—or a cat that looked remarkably similar to him—had led me to.

  Chapter Six

  After Bennington’s visit, Kat and I got down to shelter business. Since she had a meeting with some potential shelter donors that was scheduled to take up most of her afternoon, I decided to write up some more ad copy for the event. I’d just finished and was on my way to the kitchen for a much needed cup of java when I heard the strident ring of the backdoor buzzer. Since Maggie and Viola were busy at the moment with the newborns, I answered the summons. Leila stood on the stoop, her eyes bright, finger poised to ring the bell again. She pushed past me into the foyer and without any preamble said, “Have you heard the news? Littleton’s dead.”