To Catch a Leaf (24 page)

I
parked in the public lot and used the alley entrance to get inside Bloomers. Then Lottie and I stood behind the purple curtain, peeking through the slit at the crowd out front, some of whom were peering through the bay window.

“Does Grace know about them?” I asked.

“I called her before I called you.”

“The Newports have to be behind this, Lottie. They're obviously trying to make Grace's life miserable.”

I heard the heavy fire door hinges squeak as Grace came in. She joined us in the workroom, where all three of us peered through the curtain.

“Poor sods,” Grace said, removing her coat. “All hoping for that reward.”

“Would you recognize Connie's cat, Grace?” I asked.

“I've seen Charity a few times, but I couldn't pick her out of a crowd unless she was wearing her pink collar.”

“Lots of cats wear pink collars,” I said.

“Not like this collar, love. It was studded with diamonds.”

We let the curtain fall. “A diamond-studded cat collar?” Lottie exclaimed.

“I did mention the animal was pampered, didn't I?” Grace asked. “There must have been a dozen one-carat diamonds on that collar.”

“No wonder Connie's family was jealous of the cat,” I said.

“It isn't as if Connie didn't spoil them, as well.” Grace peered through the curtain again.

“What should we do?” Lottie asked. “We can't leave them out there. They'll all come rushing in when we open.”

“I suppose we could announce that unless their cat is wearing a diamond-studded collar, they needn't bother waiting,” Grace said.

“But think about it, Gracie,” Lottie said. “Who's gonna return a cat for a thousand-dollar reward when all those diamonds could be pawned instead?”

“Oh, dear, I hadn't considered that,” Grace said with a frown.

“Would anyone even know that the sparkly stones on the collar were diamonds and not crystals?” I asked. “After all, there was nothing in the newspaper article about that. Besides, if someone did realize it and pawn them, they might try to collect the reward, too.”

We peeked through the curtain again, and Grace sighed heavily. “One of those people out there could be holding the missing heiress.”

“Here's a thought,” I said. “Let's take photos of any cat that matches the description, and then show them to the Newports. Someone will be able to identify Charity.”

“Considering their animosity,” Grace said, “I wouldn't want to rely on the Newports for identification. They'd rather she not reappear, I'm sure.”

“What other choice do we have?” Lottie asked. “Those people aren't going to go away. If we're lucky, one of those cats will be wearing a diamond collar.”

“Luck!” Grace said, as though struck by an idea. “That's the ticket. As Francois de La Rochefoucauld once said—” She stopped, a look of uncertainty on her face. She cleared her throat and started again. “As Francois de La Rochefoucauld once said . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, dear.”

She couldn't remember. I'd never seen Grace forget a quote before.

“Take your time, Gracie,” Lottie said. “It'll come.”

Grace balled her hands into fists, willing her memory to function.” ‘Nature creates . . .'” She faltered yet again, then squared her shoulders. “‘Nature creates ability; luck . . .'”

I crossed my fingers behind my back.

“‘Nature creates ability; luck provides it with opportunity.'”

I sighed with relief as we clapped for her. Still looking shaken, Grace smiled in gratitude.

“If we were really lucky,” I said, trying to make light of the moment, “opportunity would be knocking right about now.”

Someone pounded on the front door.

We exchanged looks of amazement. I took a peek through the curtain and saw Juanita standing outside, a furious expression on her face.

“See?” Grace asked. “Knock, knock.”

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Juanita said, shaking the newspaper at me as I opened the door to let her in. Immediately, the crowd behind her swelled forward, all shouting for attention, while the cats in their arms struggled to get free.

“I'll be right out,” I called to the growing line of people.

Juanita pushed past me, so I started to close the door, but another woman said, “Wait! I'm with her!” and squeezed inside. I quickly closed and locked the door, then turned to see Juanita and her friend straightening their disheveled clothing.

Mrs. Newport's hot-tempered daughter-in-law looked like a fashion plate in a cropped brown tweed-and-leather jacket, tight brown leggings, and thigh-high leather boots with killer heels. Her long black hair was abundantly curled today and pushed back to reveal large, double-hooped gold earrings. Over her shoulder was a bright orange patent-leather purse with a gold chain for a strap.

“Tough crowd,” her young friend said to me with a smile. She was a bright, bubbly contrast to the scowling Juanita. She wore a three-quarter-length fitted red twill coat that I would have given my eyeteeth for, with a pair of faded-wash blue jeans, and a red-and-blue-striped scarf looped casually around her neck. Her hair was a honey blond that curled softly at the ends and her eyes were more green than hazel. She also appeared to be closer to my age than to Juanita's.

“That crowd,” Juanita said angrily, “is here because of the newspaper article. I demand to know why the press was told about the cat.”

Grace held one edge of the curtain aside. “Do come back here, please, Juanita. We don't need any more of a spectacle than we have already.”

“You!” the furious Juanita cried, pointing at Grace. “You are responsible for this!”

I watched her march through the curtain; then I turned to her friend. “Sorry. Juanita didn't introduce us. I'm Abby Knight. I own Bloomers.”

“I know,” she said with a big smile, and shook my hand. “I've read all about you. You're very brave. I've heard good things about your assistants, too. Lottie and Grace, right? Anyway, I'm Lindsey—”

We heard a thud; then Juanita cried, “Look at this newspaper! Look at it! This is your fault, you old—”

“Now, you listen here, missy,” Lottie said.

“We'd better get back there,” Lindsey said. “Juanita has quite a temper.”

When I parted the curtain, Lottie had stepped between Juanita and Grace and was shaking her finger at Juanita. “You show some respect or I'll boot your sassy butt out of here.”

With Lottie being taller and about fifty pounds heavier than Juanita, her words had the desired effect. “Fine,” Juanita said in a cooler tone. “Then explain why you spread this around.”

“I can assure you that I did not talk to the press,” Grace said. “I would suggest you poll the rest of your family to find your perpetrator.”

Juanita put her hands on her hips. “My per—What?”

“Tattletale,” Grace said.

“You think one of
us
told the media?” Juanita cried, splaying her bejeweled, pink-tipped fingers against her breasts. “That is a ridiculous statement. I have told no one!”

“She hasn't,” Lindsey whispered to me. “I didn't know myself until I read the paper this morning.”

And she apparently harbored no ill feelings from it either.

Grace cleared her throat loud enough to scrape her tonsils. “I didn't reveal anything to anyone, and the information certainly wouldn't have come from your mother-in-law's estate lawyer. So who does that leave? The people mentioned in the will.”

Juanita narrowed her eyes at Grace. “We are
not
the only ones who know.” Then she swung toward me. “
You
know, too!”

I noticed she left Marco out of it.

“Did you not see the mob outside, Juanita?” I asked her. “Do you think I'd blab to the media and willingly bring that situation on? I have a business to run here, not an animal shelter. Besides, as an investigator's assistant, I'm obligated to keep anything I learn during an investigation confidential until the case has been solved.”

Mental asterisk: with the exception of Lottie and Grace and Nikki, who wouldn't dream of revealing anything I told them in confidence.

Juanita tossed her head. “Then I don't know who is to blame. But
someone
is.”

Brilliant deduction.

“Why are you so determined to know who leaked the news?” Grace asked. “It won't matter now that it's out, will it?”

“She's embarrassed,” Lindsey whispered, having apparently been brought along as Juanita's personal thought translator. “She's been telling all her friends how much money she got from Constance, and now they know she lied.”

“Someone obviously did it to hurt me,” Juanita said, tossing her hair. “And in the Garcia family, when someone hurts us, we get angry. Very angry. And then we get even.”

Lindsey nodded emphatically. “They do—trust me.”

Lottie, Grace, and I exchanged glances, and I knew they were wondering the same thing: Had Juanita gotten even with Constance Newport?

I pulled out two wooden stools and invited them to sit. “Maybe I can help you figure out who it is.”

Juanita gave me a skeptical glance. “You would help me?”

“You bet I would. But first I need a little help from you.”

 

“Attention, please,” I called over the shouts from the crowd, until word spread that I was about to make an announcement, and then the noise quickly died.

“This is Mrs. Newport's daughter-in-law,” I said. “She'll be walking down the line looking for the missing cat. Please wait your turn.”

“I don't like doing this,” Juanita whispered to me, even though I could tell she enjoyed being the center of attention.

I walked alongside her as she inspected each cat, even checking inside their ears. Many of them had the gold-and-white stripes of a tabby, but none, apparently, were the real deal. Some were so far off that I had a hard time believing anyone would even attempt to bring us such a feline. I didn't say anything, but Juanita had no brakes on her mouth. She reminded me very much of my cousin Jillian.

“Do you think gray is the same as gold?” she asked one woman. “Go home.”

To another, she said, “Really? You would bring a black cat here? Really?”

By the time she reached the end of the line, she had eliminated all of them.

Back inside the shop, Juanita, Lindsey, and I sat at a white wrought-iron table in the parlor with a pot of Grace's gourmet coffee and a plate of cinnamon-pecan scones, while my assistants prepared for the day. Grace seemed to be throwing herself into her work, no doubt to keep her mind occupied.

“Okay, Juanita, I have half an hour before the shop opens. Tell me about Virginia's art-professor boyfriend.”

“First you have to promise to find out who leaked the information,” she said.

“I promise.”

“Then what do you want to know?” Juanita asked.

“Is Virginia still seeing him?”

“I can't swear to it,” Juanita said, “but I did hear her talking to him on the phone last week. She stopped when I came into the room, but I knew who was on the other end. I heard her making silly cooing sounds. Like a dove, you know?”

“She was talking to Professor Talbot?” I wanted to be sure we were talking about the same person.

“Yes,” she said. “Francis Talbot. Really. Who names a son Francis?”

“What do you know about him?” I asked.

“He's a nerd,” Juanita said. “He wears a blue bow tie with a gray pullover sweater and has no sideburns.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “That's all I have to say about him. He deserves nothing more.”

I glanced at Lindsey, but she merely shrugged.

“That's not much to go on,” I said.

“He talks, talks, talks all the time about art,” Juanita continued. “Constance invited him to dinner once, and I wanted to drown myself in my soup—and that was only during the first course. So instead I used wine. I can tell you that he got better looking as the evening wore on, but no more interesting.”

“What did your mother-in-law think about him?” I asked.

“She was impressed with his knowledge,” Juanita said. “She fawned over him. Is that the right word? Fawn? Isn't that a baby deer?”

Lindsey rolled her eyes at me. “Sometimes she struggles with English.”

“I understand that at some point your mother-in-law stopped fawning,” I said, “and wanted Virginia to break it off with Talbot.”

Juanita toyed with a curl as she glanced around the parlor, as though bored. “I didn't really listen. All Constance and Virginia ever did was argue.”

“You must have heard something,” I pressed. “Weren't you curious as to why your mother-in-law wanted Virginia to stop seeing him?”

“All I know is that Constance told her to break it off or she'd be cut out of the will. So she broke it off. Or so she said.”

“Did Constance find out that Virginia hadn't broken it off?”

Juanita shrugged, then took a sip of coffee.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

Juanita shrugged again.

“It's an
I don't know
,” Lindsey whispered, trying to be helpful.

I knew better. It was a sign Juanita knew more. But there didn't appear to be any love lost between the sisters-in-law, so why wouldn't she want to tell me everything? Was Juanita afraid that if she said too much, it would get back to Virginia, and that would cause a repercussion of some kind? Or was I jumping to conclusions again?