Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter And The Canary

He nodded. “It said, ‘Goodbye, Dixie.’”

I took a deep breath and tried to stay as calm as possible, but immediately I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. Ethan pulled me in a little closer.

Cora said, “Oh, sweetheart. Let me see if I can find something to make you feel better.”

“Forget it,” I said. “I’m not touching a thing you put in front of me ever again.”

She rolled her eyes as she headed for the kitchen. “Oh, please. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

I turned to Paco, “So, who is he? Why was he after me?”

Mr. Scotland set his cup down and leveled me with his piercing blue eyes. “He’s a hired killer. An assassin. And if you ask me, a might strong one for such an old codger.”

Paco said, “Dixie, he wasn’t really after you. Agent Wolff was sent here because…” He glanced up at Cora as she disappeared around the corner of the kitchen and then lowered his voice. “Elba Kramer’s husband was under federal protection. His name is Albert Greco.”

My mouth dropped open. “You mean, as in, witness protection?”

Mr. Scotland nodded. “Ten years ago, Albert Greco was arrested in Baltimore for arms trafficking. He copped a deal for immunity and ratted out all his friends. As a result, a lot of very nasty people went to jail, people that wanted him dead. He’s been in hiding ever since, but a few weeks ago, we intercepted phone calls that suggested there was a plan under way to assassinate him. With help from Paco’s team at Special Investigations, we set up shop in the house across the street. We thought we still had time to relocate him, but things moved much faster than we expected.”

At some point while he was talking, I realized Mr. Scotland’s accent had completely faded away. I said, “But I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with me? What about Sara Potts? And Edith Reed?”

Mr. Scotland’s eyes softened. “We have reason to believe that the deaths of those two women were, unfortunately, collateral in nature. The killer left those notes on their bodies to throw us off the trail. They wanted the whole thing to look like there was someone after you, murdering your friends and clients one by one, torturing you … When they fired through that front window, their intended target was Albert Greco, but they were hoping you’d be there too, meeting with Elba Kramer and her bird.”

I said, “But I wasn’t. I was in the pool house.”

“Yes, and in all likelihood, had Deputy Morgan not been there to complicate things, the gunman would have gone through the house looking for you. Afterward, he planned to place that last note on your body.”

I muttered, “ Goodbye, Dixie .”

“That’s right. But of course as soon as Deputy Morgan opened fire, he couldn’t finish the job. He had to run. That’s why he followed you here last night. And that’s why he was hiding in your car with a knife.”

I shuddered. “But … how did they even know who I was?”

“We’re not sure, but we think perhaps Elba Kramer’s phone was tapped.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “And the guy in my car, where is he now?”

Paco said, “At the station. Detective Carthage is interrogating him as we speak. But the main thing is, no one’s after you. You’re safe.”

“So, basically, you guys saved my life.”

Paco tipped his chin at Cora, who was making her way back into the living room. “I believe you have Cora to thank for that.”

Cora was carrying a wooden cutting board in the middle of which was a freshly baked loaf of chocolate bread. She put it down on the coffee table in front of us, and immediately the room filled with the sweet aroma of everything that’s good in the world.

Her eyes sparkling, she said, “Who likes chocolate?”

26

When I was little, lots of my girlfriends fantasized about their wedding day. They’d drape long white sheets over their heads and two-step around their bedrooms, hugging a wilted bouquet of wildflowers to their budding chests and beaming at their imaginary husbands. I never really understood it. Sure, I saw myself married with a husband and kids, but I never put a whole lot of stock in the actual marriage ceremony, which is why, after I pulled into the parking lot of the Kitty Haven, I was somewhat surprised at myself. I wasn’t thinking about Albert Greco or Elba Kramer. I wasn’t thinking about Sara Potts or Edith Reed. And I wasn’t thinking about the hired assassin that had been waiting in my car with a butcher knife … I was thinking about Guidry’s wedding.

I’d left Cora’s apartment with the intention of going home for a shower and a change of clothes, but on the way there I’d gotten word the investigation crew was done with Caroline’s house, which meant I could finally take Franklin and Gigi home. I knew it would make me feel better to put at least one thing back to normal, but just as I was about to get out of the car, I glanced at the time. Guidry’s wedding was happening right that very minute.

I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, thinking I’d just sit there and rest for a bit, but almost immediately I saw him.

Guidry.

Waiting at the altar.

Surrounded by friends and family … beaming.

I could see him as clearly as if I was standing there myself. He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo and bow tie, gazing at the doorway from which his soon-to-be wife would emerge, his steady eyes dark gray, edging toward blue. In my mind, I turned and gazed at the doorway too, practically holding my breath, waiting to see who was about to come through it—Monacle or Monochrome or whatever her name is.

In the front room of the Kitty Haven, Jaz was sitting on her knees in the middle of the carpet, waving two bamboo sticks in the air like a deranged traffic controller. Each stick had a string with a tuft of peacock feathers tied to the end, and there were about a dozen cats leaping after them like kernels of corn in a hot skillet. I’ve never heard anyone say it out loud, but a group of cats is called a clowder, which sounds more like something you’d eat with a spoon and some saltine crackers. In this case, though, the cats were making such a spectacle of themselves that it actually seemed appropriate. Meanwhile, Gigi was nestled in Jaz’s lap, watching the complicated cat choreography with rapt attention, as perfectly still as only a bunny can be.

I found Franklin in his kitty suite down the hall, watching a movie about mice running through a maze, and despite the fact that he didn’t seem particularly happy to see me, he purred in my arms all the way out to the Bronco. I think he was looking forward to getting back home where he belonged, and while Gigi didn’t say as much, I knew he felt the same way.

Driving to Caroline’s, I tried not to think about anything other than getting back to my regular routine. Thanks to Cora and her “secret ingredient,” I’d slept like a drunken baby, and that—combined with a cup of coffee and a slice or five of Cora’s mouth-watering chocolate bread—was starting to make me feel a little more energized.

Plus, I could acknowledge it now: I wasn’t afraid. For the first time in days, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder to see who was following me. I wasn’t calculating my every move, expecting a homicidal maniac to jump out from every corner. I felt like myself again.

Well … almost.

Something was still nagging at me, like a thorn lodged in the back of my brain, and, try as I might, I couldn’t shake it loose. For one, I kept thinking about Elba Kramer. I couldn’t imagine what she must have been going through. To have lost her husband, and in such a violent, horrible way. And to have discovered his body …

That poor woman, I thought to myself.