Cat Scratch Fever (20 page)

‘I told you he loves fucking older men.’ She drizzled more lube in the crack of Richard’s ass. The way he shivered, she surmised, was not because the lube was cold. ‘So I figured I’d give him a treat.’

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Valerie grinned to herself. Danny could move quietly as a cat, but he was making sure Richard heard him.

Richard was twitching visibly. She checked his dick. Hard as hot marble.

Danny drew close. He grinned and winked at Valerie and said ‘Delicious!’ in a voice laced with far more toppy evil than Valerie would have deemed possible.

Valerie withdrew her fingers and let Danny position himself carefully, gripping Richard’s hips with his strong hands. Richard let out a strangled moan.

‘Are you ready?’ She waited for a safeword, a no, anything that sounded like a protest. Instead, Richard raised his ass a little higher.

‘This is going to be fun,’ Danny said, still in that unfamiliar evil voice. He spread Richard’s cheeks, letting him feel the large masculine hands on his flesh. Then, still holding him open, Danny inched to the side and let Valerie in with a good-sized dildo, the expensive kind with a fairly realistic texture. She’d been lubing it up and strapping it on while Richard was distracted.

Richard hit the roof as soon as the head nudged against his opening, pushing backwards against it and muttering a half-coherent litany of ‘Please, please, please. Fuck me. Please.’

She pushed inside him, finding no resistance. As soon as the dildo entered him, he began to cry, the painful choked sobs of a man who never allowed himself that release. For a second Valerie worried she might have gone too far. But even through the tears he was begging for more.

He didn’t seem to notice when the hands on his ass were replaced by small, female ones or when Danny slipped away. Some part of him, she figured, must register the truth, but, as soon as his mind and body gave in to his scariest fantasy, Richard started flying. Lights on, but nobody home.

She pushed, fucking him hard, working him with all the skill she possessed to push him right to the edge of explosion.

Then she stopped. And switched on the tiny tape recorder concealed in her bodice. She wasn’t sure the tape would be admissible in court, but at least she’d be able to prove he’d confessed to her –
if
he did.

‘Richard, what game are you playing?’

‘I…don’t know.’ His voice sounded far away. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I want you to tell me the truth now. Does Lindsay own that real estate development company for you, the one that tried to buy the Sanctuary?’

Silence, broken only by a soft sob.

‘You can imagine how surprised I was to hear Lindsay was dabbling in real estate. It’s not her thing at all. So of course I guessed you had to be involved somehow, and you know how curious I am. You’ll tell me, won’t you?’ She twitched her hips, pushing deeper into him.

‘Yes,’ he answered almost inaudibly. ‘She’s so nice…helping with the taxes. Just have to slip her a little to keep her and Inge living in style.’

She felt queasy. Just knowing that all but confirmed her suspicions – if he hadn’t revealed he was involved with the company and abstained from the vote in the first place, he was already in such a legal and ethical quagmire that the rest didn’t seem like a stretch. But she pressed on.

She wriggled again, just to keep him on edge. ‘Why did you volunteer to do so much for the benefit? You couldn’t get it all done and we had to pull everything together last minute.’

‘Didn’t want Felicia to do it. She’s too good. And you care too much.’ That was ambiguous; it would be easy to argue that he’d meant to spare her and the busy development co-ordinator trouble. She could push him for something more definitive, but even the most spaced-out sub had a few brain cells left functional and Richard in his normal state was an exceptionally sharp man.

She tried one more tactic. Beginning to fuck him again, she waited until he was building back to orgasm and remarked, ‘Katherine told me that some kids broke in the other night and almost hurt one of the cheetahs.’

‘Idiots. Told them to keep away from the animals.’

‘You little piece of shit!’ she hissed, pounding into him with all the force of fury. ‘You’re vile! And I hope you end up in jail sharing a cell with someone named Bubba who wants you to be his bitch.’

‘Thank you, Mistress!’ Richard exclaimed as he came.

I must remember to erase that part of the tape, Valerie thought grimly, just in case it
is
admissible as evidence.

Straining to keep her expression and body language normal, she slipped the dildo out of his ass and began loosening Richard’s restraints. If she could manage to keep him blissed out for a few more hours, he might never realise what he’d said until it was too late.

Pity this would involve interacting with the little shit, but, fortunately, he got off on women’s contempt.

Mel careened into the rear entrance of the fishing cat enclosure, heavy buckets of food in each hand.

Wait a minute. The gate was supposed to be locked but she’d just bumped it and it had swung open.

She set one bucket down, dipped the other so she could swing it like a weapon, got into a defensive stance – then laughed nervously when she saw José. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

‘Just checking on Fidget. She’s about ready to go into her first heat and Katherine doesn’t want to breed her, so we’ll want to separate her and Chachi.’

‘You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.’ She’d been monitoring the young fishing cat’s gallop towards puberty for several weeks and José knew it. Clearly, he’d been lying in wait for her.

‘Well, I
was
checking on her. But mostly I hadn’t been able to catch you alone in days and you haven’t called. You’re not still mad, are you?’

This time Mel’s laugh was even more nervous. ‘I’ve just been crazy-busy – and I was never that mad in the first place. But we have to talk.’ She set down the bucket and looked around – not likely that anyone else would be passing, since this area was off limits to visitors and she knew all her staff were busy dealing with visitors or setting for tonight. Her voice dropped. ‘The other night Lance and I –’

‘You screwed Lance?’ He sounded more amused than upset, but Mel still felt herself blushing.

‘It was a fling. But even though you and I never talked about sleeping with other people –’

José drew a few steps closer. ‘What do you mean? We talk about it all the time. Felicia. That old boyfriend you saw when you went to Washington to deliver Khan. Denise – and I got an email from her this week. The next exotic-animal vet conference is in San Diego.’

Mel was momentarily derailed from her attempted confession. ‘So I’ll get more stories?’ Mel’s curiosity had been piqued by tales of José’s long-distance friend and lover, a redheaded bisexual reptile specialist who knew some very creative uses for vet wrap.

‘From the way she’s talking, you may get to be in the next story. She likes what I told her about you.’

But Mel was on a roll, determined that she should feel guilty. ‘That’s different. When I played with Lance –’

José put his arms around her. ‘You were pissed at me. I know. But did you do it to get back at me or because you thought it would be fun?’

‘Fun. OK, ninety-nine per cent fun and one per cent pissiness.’

‘And did you have a good time?’

At this point, Mel couldn’t manage to keep making herself feel bad. José was smiling at her too warmly, and his hands running over her body felt too good – and the jaunty erection poking at her leg confirmed that he was far from angry. ‘Hell, yes! I’d do him again as long as you didn’t mind.’

‘Why would I mind? As long as you tell me all the details, that is. Or let me in on the fun. I’d love to see how you’d react to the two of us together – his cock in your mouth and mine in your sweet little pussy.’ His voice dropped to a sultry purr that hit Mel directly between the legs.

Dragging him off into the bushes and making like cats in heat sounded like a fine option, until a real feline noise intruded. To a human, it sounded like an annoying yowl but, to another fishing cat, it was the equivalent of sultry music.

‘Sounds like Fidget’ll be needing some private time.’

José reached for the protective gloves he carried on his belt at all times. ‘It’s all those pheromones you put off, Mel. You just pushed the poor creature over the edge. Say, are you doing anything after the benefit?’

Mel kissed him, then ducked away to grab the catch-pole they kept at the back of the enclosure for such emergencies. ‘Telling you a bedtime story about a bad boy.’

*   *   *

Felicia grabbed a few spare but crucial minutes to change out of shorts and into her cocktail dress. It had been an unusual purchase, but it had been on sale, and she couldn’t resist. The mandarin-cut dress was made of fiery Chinese silk and had a subtle red-on-red Asian dragon print and gold piping. The high collar was balanced by an open back, and the narrow knee-length skirt had high slits on both sides that allowed her to walk normally.

She’d had Mel braid her hair right after she’d got on site, into a plait that wound around her head like a crown. Cool, and almost impossible to mess up even when she changed clothes.

She finished the outfit with a pair of kitten-heeled backless red shoes. High heels would look better, but she’d be on her feet all evening and needed to be able to move quickly.

She was in the jungle-decorated visitors’ centre giving last-minute instructions to the three college students staffing the check-in table when Valerie Turner descended upon her.

Damn. Too late to duck.

‘Felicia, darling, I need to talk with you!’ Valerie exclaimed in her usual extravagant manner. She looked rather surreal in a black-and-burgundy corseted Gaultier gown adorned with buckles and straps (rather edgy for a woman her age, but she somehow pulled it off) and a battered pith helmet that was probably as old as Felicia.

‘Just one moment. Let me finish up here and I’ll be right with you.’ Felicia turned her attention back to the students. ‘When anyone on this list checks in, one of you go find Dr O’Dare – they’re VIPs. And when press people show up, use the two-way radio to get me.’

‘Felicia…’ Valerie touched her arm, but Felicia took a deep breath and kept going. Valerie probably wanted to rearrange the guests at her tables, in which case she could just move the place cards herself and let her friends figure it out.

‘You all understand how the auction pre-checkout works?’ Felicia asked the volunteers.

Valerie moved so she was between Felicia and the students. ‘Felicia, I insist. Apologies, girls, this will take two minutes.’ She took Felicia’s arm and whisked her into the ladies’ room.

Once in there, Valerie’s manner changed abruptly from high-handed but charming socialite to something much scarier. Contained fury combined with her severe gown to make her look like a dangerous sorceress from a fantasy movie. (The pith helmet added a bizarre touch.)

Felicia backed away, trying to inch between Valerie and the door. She’d seen Mrs Turner as a harmless if sometimes annoying flake, but that was not the face of a harmless woman. And if she’d misjudged the other woman’s character that badly, had she also misjudged her intentions? What if, by asking her about Richard’s ex, she’d tipped Valerie off that Felicia was on to some elaborate scheme in which Valerie was also involved?

And what if the plotters had picked Valerie, the one nobody would suspect, to take care of the problem?

She inched closer to the door.

Valerie grabbed her wrist. Felicia wheeled, trying to take a swing with the other hand. Before she was sure what was happening to her, she found herself immobilised, both hands pinned behind her, pressed against the bathroom wall with Valerie leaning against her.

‘Are you ready to listen now?’ Valerie whispered, her voice intense and menacing. ‘This is important.’ My God, the woman even smelt dangerous, her perfume something sharp and almost masculine, yet sexual. She was leaning in closer, a predatory look in her eyes. Felicia’s heart began to race. She trembled, feeling like a rabbit with a snake. To her horror, not all the reaction was fearful. Already primed from a long day of flirting with Gabe at every possible opportunity and feasting on his nearness when she couldn’t actually flirt, her traitorous body seemed intrigued by the idea of being imprisoned by the evil witch.

Then Valerie blinked, loosened her grip on Felicia’s wrists and took a few deep breaths. ‘I’m so sorry, Felicia. I didn’t mean to alarm you. But I’ve been trying to get you alone ever since I got here and I simply couldn’t catch up with you.’

Her voice was something between the familiar ‘eccentric heiress from a screwball comedy’ inflections and the scary sorceress. Felicia had a feeling that she was hearing Valerie’s real voice for the first time.

‘Talk to me.’ She was trying hard to regulate her breathing, and to ignore the embarrassing dampness of her red silk panties.

‘Richard confessed to being behind some of the problems here, including the break-in that Katherine told me about. I got it on tape.’

‘He confessed to you? How did you –? No, don’t tell me.’ After the little demonstration just now, she guessed as much as she needed to. Her brain said ‘la la la’ and slammed the door on that line of thinking. ‘Is it enough that we can go to the police?’

Valerie nodded, and Felicia reached for her cell.

‘Wait until after the party, dear. We can’t have Addison’s finest barging in and arresting him in front of all the guests. I asked him to be my date tonight so I could keep an eye on him.’

Until two minutes ago, Felicia would have scoffed at the idea of Valerie keeping an eye on anybody. Now she was relatively sure that Richard wouldn’t try anything under the older woman’s watchful gaze.

‘After all, how much trouble could he cause at this point? Everything’s in place already and –’ Everything started to click into place, audible tumblers turning in a lock that opened the door to all the clues. Felicia could actually feel all the colour draining out of her face. ‘Oh my God. Mrs Turner, Richard hired the caterer! For all we know, she’s going to poison everyone!’

Felicia’s cell rang just as she was reaching for it to call the police. It was Mel. ‘Felicia, we have a problem in the kitchen – a big problem. Get to the vet centre now and I’ll fill you in.’

Before she ran out, Felicia turned and appealed to Valerie. ‘Distract Katherine. She’ll have a breakdown if she figures out what’s going on.’

A strange smile played over Valerie’s face. ‘No problem.’

*   *   *

It took every ounce of control for Felicia not to take off her shoes and race across the lawn. It took every shred of restraint she had to smile and chat briefly with the guests who stopped her. It was all she could do not to laugh in sheer amazement as Valerie managed to intervene in every situation, delicately steering each person away from Felicia without ever giving away that Felicia needed to be somewhere else
right now
. Felicia owed Valerie one big huge thank-you bouquet. Of African lilies, or something equally fitting.

Alan met her just as she got to the vet clinic. Mel was pacing the room when they entered. No José – he was either still showing off the cubs to the last tour group or making sure Noelle and her little family hadn’t been too upset by all the commotion.

‘Richard Enoch’s behind the problems and the sabotage,’ Felicia said without preamble, ‘and he hired the caterer. What’s wrong in the kitchen?’

‘Debbie’s going to sabotage the dinner,’ Mel said. ‘Lance found out. He’s been working in a restaurant – who knew? – and recognised what she was doing.’

‘Fuck,’ Felicia said. She caught herself just before she dragged a hand through her hair; even the carefully braided updo wouldn’t handle that. ‘What’s she doing?’

‘Lance said she’s still worried about her career, so she’s being subtle. She’s spraying dish soap on the salad plates. Lance got pictures.’ Mel held out a cell phone. There, in full (albeit small) digital incrimination, was Debbie and a plate and a spray bottle. The next picture was a close-up of the bottle and plate.

Felicia didn’t need to see any more.

‘Lance said it won’t kill anybody, but it’ll make them sick by the time the meal is over,’ Mel added. ‘Who knows what else she’ll do if we give her time?’

‘Where’s Lance now?’ Alan asked.

‘Still in the kitchen,’ Mel said. ‘He’s trying to stall her. But we have to do something quick.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Alan said. He had a strange glint in his eyes. ‘Let’s go.’

As they hurried back across the green, Felicia was relieved to see the guests were just settling into their seats. They had drinks from the bar, and they’d been nibbling hors d’oeuvres, so with luck they wouldn’t notice that their meals didn’t start with salads. She just prayed Debbie hadn’t tainted the appetisers.

*   *   *

Now that the big night was finally here, Katherine could almost breathe again. The corporate donations weren’t where they’d hoped, but Felicia had managed to pull enough together so their costs were covered and then some, so all the ticket sales were profit. Ticket sales had spiked at the last minute, thanks, in part, to Valerie going utterly insane with her own selling efforts. And they had some great auction items – again thanks in part to Valerie, who’d called in every connection she had. These included her travel agent (‘I happened to call to book my trip to Vietnam this fall and got a brainstorm’), who’d given a South Pacific cruise, and some random friend of a friend, who was donating the use of her villa in Tuscany for two weeks.

‘You’d never know so much of the decoration was free,’ Katherine whispered to Valerie. ‘It looks beautiful in here.’

It had been easy enough to pull together the safari theme. The waitstaff and about half the guests were wearing pith helmets jauntily decorated with a leopard-print band, which had magically appeared on Friday morning. Lance’s landscaper friend had provided dozens of potted palms; both Valerie and Sarah Wu had loaned souvenirs collected in their travels; and the promise of a private tour for the manager of a local fabric store had yielded many yards of free ‘mosquito netting’ to drape from the tent rafters, disguise the plain white linens that had been all they could afford and soften the stark interior of the visitors’ centre. (The netting was prom-season leftovers, mostly pale pink and lime green, but in the dim lighting you couldn’t tell.)

‘Nonsense,’ Valerie said. ‘Those African masks and batiks weren’t free, although I’m sure we paid far less than the artists deserved. Horace adored bargaining in bazaars.’

Horace Turner had been dead almost twenty years. Katherine wished she could have met him, though; from the little Valerie said about him, he seemed like another free spirit in Valerie’s mould.

‘You know, some day I should ask Manny what the collection’s actually worth.’ Valerie pointed to one of the tuxedoed gentlemen who were there on her invitation. ‘He works for Sotheby’s.’