Читать книгу Claws of Death - Linda Reilly - Страница 12

Chapter 3

“I can’t believe we’re about to enter Deanna Daltry’s home,” Lara said. If she’d tried, she couldn’t have suppressed the excitement in her voice.

“I know,” Aunt Fran said. “I feel like such a groupie, getting this giddy over it.”

Today was the day—the kittens were ready for their new home. Lara had tucked their furry charges atop a thick towel inside the cat carrier, and she and Aunt Fran were delivering them to Deanna. Aunt Fran was carrying the colored-pencil sketch Lara had made of the kittens. It was the gift she presented to each person or family who adopted from the shelter.

Lara swung her aunt’s Saturn onto the circular driveway and stopped in front of the old stone manse. She shut off the engine. She wasn’t surprised that Deanna’s Mercedes was nowhere to be seen.

The actress had been thoroughly shaken by the bizarre message someone had written on her car window. The worms had been bad enough, but those words—time to pay the piper—had raised the creep factor to a whole new level.

The police had first deemed it a prank, a cruel taunt by someone who disliked Deanna’s personal style. Chief Whitley, however, had taken it more seriously and commenced an investigation. With Deanna’s consent, they’d taken her vehicle into custody, but only until a forensic exam could be performed.

The discovery of the lipstick graffiti had created quite a stir at the welcome party. Much to Evelyn Conley’s dismay, the gig had broken up early. While the police hadn’t wanted to ruffle any local feathers, they’d nonetheless performed discreet interviews of each of the attendees. Several of the guests had voluntarily given up their lipstick tubes for analysis.

That lipstick—the color had stuck in Lara’s mind. Brightly colored and glossy, it looked suspiciously like the shade of red Evelyn had been wearing. Still, she didn’t want to point any fingers. There were hundreds of shades and brands of lipstick. And Evelyn clearly adored Deanna. She’d practically fallen at her feet when Deanna had first arrived.

The stone mansion sat at the top of Cemetery Hill, overlooking a family graveyard. According to Aunt Fran, the cemetery’s granite markers, some worn and illegible, dated as far back as 1864. The most recent was that of Alston Blythe, who died, childless, in 1938. After his death, the property fell into disrepair, and for decades sat neglected and unoccupied. Eventually the town took it for unpaid taxes, but couldn’t persuade anyone to buy it.

Until Deanna Daltry came along.

The renovations had taken nearly four years, but the results had been spectacular.

“It’s strange,” Aunt Fran said. “I’ve lived in this town all my life, but I’ve never seen the inside.”

“Oh, but the outside is fabulous, isn’t it?” Lara said. “I’ve already decided I’m going to paint it and give the watercolor to Deanna as a housewarming gift.” Lara eyed the granite stairs that led to the open front porch, then looked over at her aunt. “Are you going to be okay walking up those steps?”

“I think so. As long as I take it slow.”

Five months earlier, Aunt Fran had undergone surgery on her left knee. The procedure had gone smoothly, and after two months of physical therapy she was walking with only an occasional twinge. She still faced a replacement of her right knee, but was putting it off until the end of the month.

“We’d better get the kittens inside,” Lara said. “The car’s already starting to get warm.”

Cat carrier in one hand, Lara looped her free arm through her aunt’s and together they picked their way carefully up the granite steps. The corner column of the stone entryway was covered in ivy. A light summer breeze lifted the leaves.

A massive oak door with a rounded arch loomed before them. On the door was a grapevine wreath clustered with bright colored silk dahlias, a huge lavender bow at the top. Lara pressed a newish-looking buzzer. Within moments the door was opened by a long-faced, fortysomething woman wearing black denim capris and a crisp white blouse. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Ms. Clarkson and Ms. Caphart?”

“Yes,” Lara said, smiling at the woman. “We’re here with Noodle and Doodle.”

The woman, her thick, coal-black hair an odd contrast to her salt-and-pepper eyebrows, gave them an unsmiling nod. “Come in. I’m Nancy Sherman, Ms. Daltry’s housekeeper. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Instead of leaving, she pulled a cell phone from her pocket and tapped it twice. After a moment, she said quietly into the phone, “Your guests are here with the cats.”

Without another word, she turned and went off toward a door at the rear of the foyer.

Lara gazed around in awe at the huge entryway. The floor was marble, the walls papered with scenes straight out of the French countryside. The air felt surprisingly cool. Did the mansion have central air? Or did the stone structure keep the inside from getting overly warm?

At that moment, Lara spied Deanna scurrying down a winding stone stairway into the foyer. Her pink jersey T-shirt over a pair of white shorts made her look at least ten years younger than her reputed seventy-two years. Her makeup was subtle, applied with perfection. She greeted them warmly, hugging each one in turn, but her gaze was homed in on the cat carrier.

“I have a delightful room all made up for the kittens,” Deanna said, her tone rising with enthusiasm. “This place is so vast. I thought it best to restrict them to one area for a few days, and then gradually let them explore.”

“That’s a good plan,” Aunt Fran said. “Kittens acclimate best when they start off in a small area. Even confining them to a bathroom works well for the first few days.”

All true, but Lara knew that kittens’ natural curiosity could get them into trouble even in a confined space.

They followed Deanna up the stairs, where a hallway covered in plush Oriental carpeting led to the rear section of the mansion. The actress opened the door to one of the rooms and ushered them inside. She closed the door behind them.

“I thought this would be the perfect starter room, so to speak,” Deanna explained. “Eventually, of course, they’ll have the run of the house.”

“I can see why you chose this as a starter room,” Aunt Fran said. “It’s beautiful!”

Sunlight streamed through the rounded arches of the room’s two towering windows, both of which faced east. Along the wall, below the windows, was a built-in oak seat adorned with a thick tapestry cover that stretched its entire length. A plump kitty bed sat against one wall. A fountain that dispensed fresh water rested next to a set of food bowls. One bowl contained kitten kibble. Two others were empty. A cat-shaped toy box sat nearby, stuffed with all sorts of kitty playthings.

“By the way, this is for you,” Aunt Fran said, giving the pencil sketch to Deanna.

Deanna accepted it with a smile. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she said. “I’ll ask Nancy to frame it—she’s quite good at crafts. She made that wreath on the front door. Isn’t it spectacular?”

“It’s beautiful,” Lara agreed, setting down the carrier. Doodle, the male, pressed his nose against the zippered screen door and issued a pathetic mewl. “I know,” Lara said softly, “you’re getting antsy in there.” She laughed and unzipped the door. Doodle hopped out first. His sister peered around cautiously before following in his wake. With the two black stripes around one of his forepaws, Doodle looked like a cat assigned to patrol the room.

“Oh, look at them,” Deanna said. “I desperately want to hold them, but I know I should let them explore the room for a while first.”

“You can hold them in a few minutes,” Lara said. “Give them a chance to look around for a bit.” She looked over at the cat bed. “If you have a sweatshirt, or something you’ve worn and haven’t washed yet, you might want to lay it over their bed for a few days. That way they’ll get used to your scent.”

“That’s a marvelous idea,” Deanna said. “And before you ask…” She went over to a side door and opened it. “When I had this place gutted and remodeled, I made sure the builders added a private bath to each of the upstairs rooms. As you can see, the kittens’ litter box is all set for them. And I assure you, it will be scrupulously maintained.”

Aunt Fran peeked into the bathroom and smiled approvingly. “The kittens are going to be very happy here. I can see that already.”

Lara agreed. The room had been kitten-proofed for safety. Electrical cords had been wrapped and tucked out of reach. Outlets were properly covered.

Deanna couldn’t resist any longer. She bent down and scooped up Noodle, hugging the kitten to the hollow of her neck. Noodle closed her eyes in sheer bliss and pressed a paw to Deanna’s throat.

“She’s purring. I can hear her.” Deanna grinned. “Oh, I can’t wait until they’re curling up with me at night in my bedroom.”

Lara felt a smile widening her cheeks. In spite of yesterday’s drama, Deanna seemed totally at ease, elated over the arrival of her feline furbabies.

A sudden movement near the window caught Lara’s eye. On the tapestry-covered bench sat Blue, her tail swishing, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Lara felt her heart thump. How did you get here? she asked silently.

She knew that only she could see Blue. But never before had the elusive Ragdoll ventured this far from Aunt Fran’s Folk Victorian. Was she here to check out the kittens’ new place? To add her seal of approval?

Blue glanced at Lara, blinked, then went back to studying Deanna. By that time, Doodle had hopped onto Deanna’s right sandal and was munching happily on the strap.

Deanna reached down and picked up Doodle, holding the siblings close to her chest. “Oh, this has truly made my day, ladies. I can’t wait until they’re ready to have the run of the place.”

Lara smiled, but something nagged at her. Nancy Sherman, the housekeeper, had yet to come in to check out the cats or to welcome them to their new digs. Had Deanna told her to stay out of sight during their visit? Or was the woman not a fan of cats? The latter thought made Lara nervous. She wondered if the housekeeper lived in the house, or if Ms. Sherman had her own home elsewhere.

“Deanna, do you think Ms. Sherman might like to see the cats?” Lara asked.

Deanna’s bright smile faded. “Nancy, I’m afraid, was not altogether thrilled with my decision to adopt the kittens. She was raised to believe cats are fine as mousers, but should never be allowed inside.”

Lara saw Aunt Fran’s face crease with worry.

“Oh,” Aunt Fran said. “That’s disappointing.”

“Fran, you needn’t worry,” Deanna assured her. “I interviewed at least eight or nine applicants for her job, and she was absolutely the most qualified. I made it clear that I intended to have cats, and she agreed that she would assist in caring for them.”

Lara slid a glance over at Blue. The cream-colored feline looked relaxed and content—a sign that she was on board with the adoption.

A sigh of relief escaped Lara. Nonetheless, she wished she could get a better comfort level with the housekeeper.

“On another note,” Deanna said, a frown pursing her lips. She set both kittens down gently on the floor, then faced the women. “Chief Whitley called me this morning. My car will be released to me this afternoon. Unfortunately, the police haven’t made much progress identifying the graffiti artist who marked up my window.”

That was no artist, Lara thought.

“Sorry to hear that,” Lara said. She’d given the police a description and a pencil sketch of the man she’d caught peeking inside the Saturn the day before. No one other than the ice cream vendor had seen him or had any idea who he was. Besides, the man might’ve had nothing to do with the vandalism. He’d seemed like a harmless soul, interested mostly in seeking out ice cream.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lara spied a sudden movement. Blue had gone on full alert, her dark tail swishing in agitation. The cat paced back and forth on the tapestry-covered seat, her gaze fixed on the window above. In the next moment, she leaped onto the sill and peered outside.

Lara’s pulse pounded. What is she looking at?

She forced a smile, her heart racing. “Deanna, I’d love to check out the view,” she said. “This room faces the rear of the property, right?”

Deanna mumbled something, but Lara barely heard her. Lara went over to the window and looked outside. Blue had already vanished.

The yard behind the mansion was lush and green. In a landscaped pattern that looked carefully crafted, wildflowers nestled in clusters along a twisty stone walkway. Beyond that was the old family graveyard. Granite markers, worn and darkened with age, marked the burial places of Blythe family members long passed.

Lara gasped. In front of one of the grave markers, someone was slumped on the ground. Even from this distance, Lara could see that one arm was outstretched. Had someone gone on a drinking binge and collapsed in the cemetery? Or—

She swallowed, recalling the body she’d stumbled upon barely a year earlier.

“Deanna, call nine-one-one,” Lara said urgently. “There’s someone lying on the ground in front of one of the tombstones. I think he, or she, needs help.”

Whoever it is, please let them be okay. Please don’t let it be like last time…

Deanna swerved toward the window but didn’t approach it. “Dear Lord,” she whispered. “I left my cell phone in my bedroom!”

“I’ll call,” Aunt Fran said, taking her phone from the pocket of her knee-length shorts. She tapped it a few times, then calmly reported the emergency. While she continued talking to the 9-1-1 operator, Lara rushed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Deanna cried out.

“Outside,” Lara said. She tried to squelch the bile she felt rising in her throat.

The last time she’d discovered a body, there hadn’t been any hope of reviving the victim. This time…she didn’t know what she’d find.

But if there was the slightest chance she could save someone, she wasn’t going to stand idly by and wait for the ambulance.