Молли Фитц - Kitty Confidential

“Sleeping with her?” Diane curled her nose in disgust and pushed off the floor back to a standing position.

My phone vibrated in my hip pocket, which gave me an idea. If I could just find a way to FaceTime Octo-Cat, he could get Nan and she could get the police. I needed to distract Diane enough that she wouldn’t see me reaching into my pocket. It would be hard to be sly with my hands bound together, but I at least had to try.

“So he wasn’t?” I asked curiously.

“I should hope not, seeing as she’s his daughter. Then again, Richard’s illegitimate child is the least of my problems right now.” She moved fast, muttering to herself on occasion before speaking more to me.

How had she hidden so much of her true self? How had I never seen through the pleasant house wife act? Did Mr. Fulton know? Is that why he was leaving her? I wanted to know so much more, but first, I needed to get away from the crazy murderess who now paced the floor in front of me.

“And you wanted all of Ethel’s money for yourself,” I said, hoping it was enough of a prompt to get her to fly into another monologue about her motives.

“Who wouldn’t want the money? It’s not like the old lady was long for this world anyway. I gave her an easy death which, if you ask me, was far better than she deserved.”

As she talked, I inched my hands closer to my pocket. Luckily, my phone was on the opposite side of the fire, which gave me some shadows to help disguise my movements.

“You’re already rich,” I murmured, happy she wasn’t looking at me anymore.

Diane had now returned to her frantic search of the room. I prayed it wasn’t a gun she was hoping to find. I may be able to think fast, but I didn’t think I’d be able to act fast enough to dodge a speeding bullet aimed straight at me, especially considering my recent head injury.

She laughed bitterly. “Already rich as Mrs. Fulton. What do you think will happen to me after the divorce, though?” Luckily, this was a rhetorical question as she kept talking without waiting to see what I had to say. “I thought I had more time. Richard was supposed to inherit everything from his aunt, then I’d get half if I could just keep him happy long enough for the will to go through. I got sick of waiting for the old lady to kick the bucket, so I helped her along. I couldn’t believe my rotten luck when we found out she’d recently changed her will to leave almost everything to that stupid cat!”

I kept my eyes glued to Diane as I slipped the tips of my fingers into my pocket and began to slip the phone out from inside. She continued on her diatribe about her poor, unfair life, but I only heard enough to offer the smallest of replies. Instead, my focus had shifted toward my phone.

I pressed to unlock it—thankful I’d disabled the passcode—clicked the FaceTime app icon, and placed a call to Octo-Cat on my iPad.

Fingers crossed he wasn’t too mad to help save my life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The call went through, and Octo-Cat answered after just a couple rings. I swear I’d never been happier to hear anyone’s voice in all my life.

“Let me guess,” he said, sounding almost bored. “You’re in danger and need the cat to come save the day.”

Yes! I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t alert Diane to the call without causing serious trouble for myself. Instead, I needed to find a way to keep her talking until my cat could come up with a way to rescue me. Seriously, of all the things my life could hinge on, it all came down to a talking cat with a bad attitude—one whom I’d recently made very, very angry with me.

I needed to find a way to keep the conversation going, but Diane wasn’t paying any attention to me as she ripped through drawers and containers in search of whatever it was she needed. A couple minutes later she found what she’d been searching for all this time and strode back across the room to show me. Oh, how I prayed Octo-Cat was still with me!

I pushed the phone behind my back by making a big show of struggling against my bonds, managing to get it out of sight just in time.

“I’d stop that if I were you,” Diane warned, holding up the newly acquired object so that I could see it clearly. An old revolver caught and reflected the light of the fire in its smooth metal body, and no matter how much it terrified me, I just couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“That’s right,” my captor said with a smirk. “You’re going to die.”

My mind reeled, turning back to Octo-Cat once more. I couldn’t hear his voice anymore. For all I knew, we’d lost the connection or he’d gotten bored and given up waiting. Still, I had to press on with my plan, hoping he was there and listening with Nan.

“I can keep quiet,” I pleaded with Diane. “I don’t have to tell anyone you murdered Ethel. You can take the money and leave. Or I can leave. Please. Just let me go.”

“Oh, Angie,” she said with false pity. “You’re forgetting that I know you. You can’t even keep the results of a TV singing competition secret. What makes you think I’d trust you with something like this?”

“Are you going to shoot me?” I asked, my voiced tremoring with fear. I’d like to say that it was put on for effect, but that would be a lie. I had no idea whether my lone escape plan was working or whether I’d survive this horrible experience to live another day. If I did, I’d sure take a lot less for granted going forward.

Like people’s guilt or innocence, for one thing.

Diane kicked my leg and lowered the gun from my head to my chest. “That’s plan B,” she revealed coldly.

“What’s plan A?” I whispered as my heart galloped wildly in my chest.

“You like swimming. Don’t you, Angie?” she asked, kicking me again. “I figured we could go for a nice night swim at Deadman’s Wharf. What do you say?”

“Deadman’s Wharf?” I repeated loudly. “But the undertow there… I wouldn’t be able to… I’d…” I cried openly now.

“Oh, I know.” Diane’s face flashed with sick delight as she loosened the bonds on my ankles. “Now get up.”

“I don’t want to go to Deadman’s Wharf,” I wailed. Please, Octo-Cat. Please be listening. Please understand what I’m trying to tell you.

“Now it’s about what I want.” She kicked me a third time. “Get up.”

Somehow I had to find a way to get up without her seeing my phone on the floor behind me. I made a big show of struggling to my feet then stumbled forward, knocking Diane over in the process.

“Oh, you’re going to live to regret that,” she growled before breaking out in a creepy laugh. “Luckily it won’t be very long.”

She pulled us both to our feet, stuck the gun into my ribs, and led me outside. It looked like we were on our way to Deadman’s Wharf.

I just hoped we weren’t the only ones.

Despite driving in Diane’s large luxury SUV, the ride over was bumpy and painful. Well, I wouldn’t be volunteering to lay tied up on the floor again any time soon—that is, if I even managed to reach tomorrow with my life intact.

She’d tied my ankles tight again after forcing me onto the floor of her vehicle, then kept her eyes on me through the rear-view mirror the entire drive over. Even if I’d had the strength to mount an escape, carrying it out would have been impossible under her watchful eye.

By the time we arrived at Deadman’s Wharf, I had already lost feeling in my feet. Well, except for the mess of tingles that had taken up residence and made it so that I no longer trusted myself to stand without the very real risk of toppling over.

Diane parked near one of the darkened buildings dotting the wharf and did a quick search of the premises before finally forcing me out of the car.