Fool's Moon, page 27
She hesitated, and then finished, “She wanted to know if Mr. Givens caused his mother’s accident.”
Joan gasped and shook her head, the messy updo all but falling apart. “No, I could never believe that. The embezzling, maybe, but the other? I mean, they didn’t always get along, but I know deep down that Terry loved his mother. Hilda’s death was just a terrible, terrible accident. That’s what the police told us.”
Expression determined, she said, “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I saw the paperwork. Now that Hilda’s gone, surely there’s no need to pursue anything. You know, legally. We can take the copies and all the notes and put them in Terry’s shredder and pretend none of this ever happened.”
Then, apparently seeing from their expressions that she and Luis were still not convinced, Joan went on in a pleading voice. “The money would have been Terry’s, anyhow. He—He just took it a little early. There’s no need to destroy his reputation now, when it won’t help Hilda. Is there?”
Ruby exchanged glances with Luis. Joan had a point. Was it really necessary to pursue this? She’d have to ask JoJo, but she couldn’t imagine who would even go after Givens. Likely not the police … not without Luciana’s actual testimony. And as Joan had pointed out, he’d simply taken the money early.
Except that it wasn’t going to be his money, a voice in her head reminded her. Luciana had very specifically said that Terrence had already received his inheritance and Mrs. Givens had changed her will to give everything to charity. But obviously Joan didn’t know all this.
“We have to do this,” the woman persisted, rising from the sofa. “I’ve got the papers right here. We can do this now, and—”
As Ruby and Luis watched in surprise, she shoved aside the pillow behind her … and then picked up the next pillow, and the next. Her expression of dismay promptly morphed into outrage.
“It’s gone. I had them here … and now they’ve vanished!” She rounded on Luis and raged on. “This isn’t funny. Give me those papers back. We’re going to burn them, shred them, just like we agreed.”
“Me-OOOOOOOW!”
The ear-splitting yowl made them all freeze. Ruby was the first to react, turning in the direction of that strangely familiar cry. As she watched in disbelief, a sleek furry black form crawled out from under the toile chair.
Barely had Ruby gasped out “Ophelia?” when a second black feline—this one with a stubby tail—wriggled his way out, too. And behind him, he was dragging an equally familiar plastic bag filled with papers.
“Brandon? Ophelia? How did you get back here? And how did you get … oh, never mind,” Ruby exclaimed as she rushed over to them.
The pair circled around her ankles, mewing, as she gave them each a quick pat and then grabbed the packet. She gave it a quick look. Definitely the same papers, the only difference being that the end of the bag now was pierced by a series of feline-sized fang marks.
“Ugh! I thought Terry got rid of those nasty creatures,” Joan said with a shudder.
Ruby bristled. “Those nasty creatures happen to be my pets.”
“Well, I suggest you remove your pets before I call Animal Control and report them as strays. Not that I would do such a thing,” she smoothly added. “Not if you give me back the papers the little wretches stole from me.”
Luis snorted. “You mean, the same papers you stole from me? And as for those cats, they used to live here. So as far as I’m concerned, they have as much right to be here as you do. Maybe more.”
“Ahem,” came a male voice from the vicinity of the front door. “Since I’m the only one who actually lives here now, maybe I should be the one making the decision about who is welcome in my house.”
Terrence Givens shut the door behind him and strode through the foyer into the living room. His pale, disbelieving gaze took in all of them—felines, included—as he added, “Would someone care to explain what’s going on here?”
Joan was the first to regain her composure. “Terry! Oh, darling, thank goodness you’re home!” she cried and ran to him. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding, and I’ve been trying to protect you. But these people”—she waved wildly in Ruby and Luis’s direction—“they’re making things difficult. They’re saying crazy things. And—And they brought cats with them!”
“Yes … a-a-a-choo!..so I see,” he shot back, taking Joan by the arm.
Brandon and Ophelia, meanwhile, had ceased their circling and now flanked Ruby, green gazes fixed on Givens. The man sneezed again, and the cats let loose with twin hisses that, to Ruby’s mind, spoke volumes. She clutched the papers more tightly to her, not sure what to do next.
Luis shrugged. “Looks like we’ve got a little impasse going here.”
“And what does that mean?” Givens demanded. “I leave my home for less than an hour, and I come back to find it overrun by undesirables. Oh, I didn’t mean you, darling,” he hurriedly clarified, turning his attention to Joan. Patting her arm, he said in a solicitous tone, “What is this misunderstanding, and why do you need to protect me? Maybe you can make sense of this for me.”
She nodded and put her free hand to her mouth, as if choking back sobs. “These two, they’re accusing you of terrible things. I—I don’t believe them, of course, but they make it sound so terrible. And I’m afraid they’re going to try to smear your good name. If we can just destroy those papers, it’ll be over with.”
“You’re not making sense, darling. Things? What sort of things?”
“Embezzlement things,” Luis wryly answered for her. “Sometime before she died, your mother and my aunt discovered someone was dipping into Mrs. Givens’s bank accounts. Aunt Lu put together the proof. Now we have to decide what to do with it.”
Givens’s pale eyes opened wide, and he began to sputter. “What the—? Are you really saying—? Are you trying to accuse me—? Are you actually telling me you think I stole from Hilda?”
A series of emotions flashed over the man’s blandly handsome features. Shock. Outrage. Disbelief. But not guilt, Ruby realized in surprise. She glanced over at the coffee table, where the Tarot card spread still lay. If those last two cards of Joan’s reading that she’d peeked at were to be believed, maybe Givens was telling the truth.
Joan, meanwhile, was now clutching his arm. “Don’t worry, darling,” she said, tone fiercely possessive. “You don’t have to confess to anything. Your poor mother is gone now, so it really doesn’t make any difference anymore. She wouldn’t want her own son to go to prison. We’ll destroy the papers, and that will be an end to it.”
Givens abruptly disengaged himself from her grip. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. If someone was embezzling, I damn well want to know about it. Where are these papers?”
“I’ve got them,” Ruby spoke up, holding up the sealed bag so he could see it. “And I’m pretty sure that Luciana and your mother were right. Somebody was embezzling from your mother … but it wasn’t you. It was Joan.”
Twenty-Five
“I knew it!” Ophelia mewed in excitement at Ruby’s announcement, hopping onto the arm of the black sofa so she could keep a better eye on things. “I knew the Joan person was the human rat that Philomena told us about! Even her name—Ratzen—has a ‘rat’ in it.”
Brandon rolled his green eyes but jumped up to join her. “What do you mean, you knew it? I thought you thought it was Luis … though I knew all the time it wasn’t.”
Sure you did, Ophelia thought. Aloud, she merely said, “So what do you think they’re going to do with her? Give her to the police people?”
“Maybe. But as long as she’s here, keep an eye on her. She’s sneaky like a rat, for sure.”
And indeed, the Joan woman had casually strolled over to the black sofa and, with a sour look for the cats, picked up her small gold box. Opening it, she pulled out a small gold cylinder—lipstick, Ophelia knew it was called—and a little mirror.
Coloring her lips a bright red, she asked, “Terry, darling, are you going to stand there and let this awful woman accuse me of such a thing?”
“I don’t know, darling. Did you steal the money?”
By way of answer, she snapped the lid back on the lipstick and stuffed it into the gold box, and then tossed the box onto the couch. She’d forgotten to close its top, however, and the lipstick rolled right out.
Something else rolled out, too … a small amber plastic cylinder, like the kind the old woman used to keep what she called her medicines in.
Ophelia squinted suspiciously at the little container as she recalled the last thing Philomena the koi had said. It takes a pill to fix what’s ill. And if Joan was the rat, then maybe the medicine had something to do with it.
Joan, meanwhile, was giving the son a cold look. “I don’t have to stay here and be insulted. Just remember all those times when I smoothed things over for you, the invitations I made sure you got, even when people knew you were on the outs with your dear mother.”
She whipped about to face Luis. “And the same for you … darling.” Giving her head a coquettish tilt, she went on in the same chill tone. “Have you forgotten I’m the one who hooked you up with those nice Palm Beach socialites? You know the ones I mean—the ones with no spare cash to pay the landscaper that week and afraid someone would find out? You have a nice little sideline business going with them, and it’s because of me.”
“Wait!”
This from the son, whose pale face was turning redder by the moment.
“Joan, would you care to explain how you seem to know the nephew of my late housekeeper so well?” Then, tone growing even more suspicious, he demanded, “And what’s this about a side business? So help me, if anyone is using my house for anything nefarious … ”
“Really, Terry, you know me better than that.” The Joan woman’s tone was cajoling, like a kitten trying to convince a grown cat to play. “Last year, I was attending this incredibly boring finance conference down in Ft. Lauderdale, and I ran into Luis at the bar. Of course, I had no idea at the time that he was related to Luciana.”
She hesitated, then gave a careless shrug and went on. “We exchanged business cards, and I saw that he owned a pawn shop in West Palm. I didn’t think much about it, until a friend of mine ran into a bit of difficulty trying to come up with some quick cash. I thought of him and gave my friend his number. Things worked out so well for her that I gave his number to a few other people I knew who got into trouble. I was only trying to help.”
Ophelia frowned. She wasn’t really sure why the Joan human would be giving numbers to other humans, but maybe that explained Brandon’s adventure riding around that night in the picking up truck with Luis.
Luis, however, didn’t seem much impressed with her story. He snorted. “Yeah, you’re a real Oprah, helping all your rich friends like that. Don’t forget to tell Terrence here that you got a cut of the action, too.”
“So what? You made your money. You still owe me. Both of you do. Now give me the papers!”
If the Joan woman had been a feline, Ophelia thought, by now she would be hissing and baring fangs. Which would mean that the rest of the humans would be getting all hissy, too. But to Ophelia’s surprise, Ruby calmly set the plastic bag containing the damning paperwork on the table.
“If Mr. Givens wants you to have the pages, they’re yours. If he wants to keep things quiet about the stolen money, that’s his call. But I think you’ve got something more on your conscience than embezzlement, Joan, don’t you?”
So saying, she reached toward the Tarot cards still spread on the table and picked up the fourth Tarot card in her spread … a card that still lay face down. Flipping it over, she set it atop the financial papers and gave Joan a stern look from behind her black-framed glasses.
“Look familiar?”
Ophelia and Brandon exchanged glances. The picture on this one was a scary human skeleton wearing a metal suit. He rode a white horse and carried a flag with a white flower on it. Death.
“It’s a trick,” Joan snapped, though Ophelia could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “You’re trying to rattle me, but it won’t work.”
“See here,” the son swiftly broke in, looking a bit uncertain himself. “Are you trying to accuse Joan of something … well, something else?”
“I refuse to listen to this,” the woman declared before Ruby could reply. “I’m going home now. Terry, when you’re ready to be sensible again, you can call me.”
She reached for the gold box, noticing then that it had spilled open. She said some bad human words and started to scoop everything back where it belonged.
Ophelia, however, was swifter. She bounded from couch arm to cushion, and with a single swat sent the brown cylinder flying off onto the tile floor.
“You distract them! Staircase plan!” she yowled back to her brother. “I’m going to get the pills and hide them until I can give them to Ruby. I’ll be waiting for you in the picking up truck.”
Leaping after the small plastic container, she gave another swat that sent it sliding toward the foyer, its contents rattling. She could hear the Joan woman shouting behind her, while Ruby valiantly tried to call Ophelia back. But the humans had all forgotten that she and Brandon used to play there, that they’d long ago mastered hitting every slide and turn and corner at full feline speed.
They weren’t going to catch her.
Snatching the cylinder in her jaws, Ophelia made as if to run into the kitchen. Joan and the son were behind her. At the last minute, she whipped about and instead made a beeline to the other, shadowy end of the foyer, where the staircase led to the rooms above.
Brandon was already in position, ready for a trick they’d done many times. She could see his one black ear sticking out from behind the baluster. “Get ready for the switch,” he yowled at her.
Well ahead of the humans, she came skidding to a stop at the bottom of the stairway and momentarily ducked behind the baluster with her brother.
“Good luck,” he purred, and then jumped out to take her place.
“There she goes, up the stairs!” came the shout as the son and Luis and Ruby all came rushing after her … or, rather, after Brandon pretending to be her.
Suppressing a snicker—it was hard to laugh with the cylinder in her mouth, anyhow—Ophelia slipped off into the shadows and quietly padded along the foyer. Fortunately, the humans had not thought to close the doors leading out to the courtyard. Making sure that the coast was clear—where had that Joan human gone, anyhow?—she bolted from the brightly lit room and outside into the darkness again.
Except that it wasn’t totally dark. The lights inside the pool were glowing, as usual. Tonight, however, the full moon was high, its image spreading across the swimming pool’s smooth surface, making it hard to see the scary fish that lay at its bottom. She would have liked to sit on the pool’s edge and pat her paw against the water, so that she could watch the ripple running back and forth through the moon. But even though the days were pleasant, at night the water would be cold … unlike past days when the pool was kept artificially warm for the old woman to take her daily swim. And there was nothing worse for a feline than sticking a paw in cold water!
Besides, she had important work to do.
Keeping to the shadows, Ophelia made her cautious way to the far end of the pool. Her jaws were starting to ache from carrying the pill bottle, and so she stopped to set it down for a moment while she hurriedly surveyed the situation. As before, she’d exit the courtyard by means of the gate … except she couldn’t carry the cylinder and still squeeze out. She’d have to leave the bottle beside the gate and shimmy beneath it first. Then she could reach back under the bars to snag the bottle and drag it out after her.
Perfect. And once outside the courtyard, she’d run to the picking up truck where Zuki would keep anyone except Ruby from following after her.
Too late, Ophelia heard the sound of a bare footstep behind her. In a flash, she grabbed the bottle again. But she wasn’t fast enough to get away.
“Gotcha!” the Joan female shrieked in triumph as she swooped down and captured Ophelia in a giant piece of cloth.
A towel, she realized as she struggled against it, recognizing the feel of the rough loops. The Joan was sneaky as a rat, indeed! While the others were looking inside, she’d been clever enough to look outside … and clever enough to use a towel against Ophelia’s claws. And she’d been smart enough, too, to take off her clicking shoes, so Ophelia wouldn’t hear her coming.
Ophelia gave her tail an angry flick … or tried to. She couldn’t move because the human had her wrapped up tight, with only her head free. Her teeth were the only weapons left her. But if she tried to bite, she’d have to drop the amber cylinder. She might not be fast enough a second time to retrieve it before the Joan human did.
Trick her, like she tricked you!
Abruptly, Ophelia made a gurgling sound and went limp, eyes shut and head lolling over the human’s arms. Joan gasped, and then softly laughed.
“All right, you nasty creature,” she whispered. “Give me back my party girls.”
Ophelia felt the human’s fingers latching onto the cylinder. She remained limp, though her jaws were locked, holding the tiny bottle firm as the woman tugged at it. After a few unsuccessful pulls, she heard the woman mutter a curse as she released the bottle.
Ophelia felt herself being lowered as the human knelt on the paving stones. She sensed the towel loosening around her, but she kept herself deliberately limp, eyes still closed, teeth still clamped on the cylinder.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Now she was on the ground, the towel falling away from her as the woman latched onto the cylinder and began tugging again. At that, Ophelia let her green eyes spring wide open, and she gave a throaty, unearthly growl.
