Catnapped! (A Matchmaker Mystery Book 3) (18 page)

“Is he…?” Pete asked, standing ramrod straight.

Xander cocked his head to the side and considered him for a long moment before replying. “He’s alive if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Pete’s shoulders eased. “I guess you should call the police.”

“You guess?” Alyssa asked incredulously.

Pete gave her a nervous sideways look. “Of course he should call the police.”

“Calling the authorities was never the question.” Xander hopped off the car he’d been sitting on. “The question was whether you wanted me to hand him over the cops now or later.”

“Now,” Pete told him firmly. “Definitely now.”

“Speaking of now,” Mauricio interjected, “can we go?”

Pete shrugged helplessly. “See you soon?”

She nodded.

He looked to Roscoe, who’d been standing off to the side, quietly watching the entire exchange. “You’ll look after my girl?”

Roscoe shook his head, moving to Alyssa’s side. “I’ll look after
my
friend.”

“Are you sure you want to practice law?” Pete asked Gerald. “You’d probably do well as a demolition derby driver.”

Gerald, sitting beside him on the curb looked at the latest truck he’d wrecked and grinned. “Your friend Jackson looks pretty upset.”

“He loved that truck,” Pete agreed, watching the way Jackson circled the mangled vehicle. Tom had explained that they’d had Gerald crash the truck as a way to distract his captors. It had worked since Ralph had sent Brass Knuckles out to deal with it.

As though he sensed he was being talked about, Jackson headed over to them. “Gotta give you credit, kid. You totaled it.”

Gerald nodded, pride in his accomplishment and healthy fear of the man standing over him, warring in his expression.

Jackson extended his hand. “Nice job. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Gerald, clearly relieved, shook his hand.

“They’ve called a tow truck,” Tom said, strolling over.

Jackson grimaced. “Farewell, sweet girl.”

“Cops have they all need from us for now,” Tom continued. “We should head out. The cops will give a couple of us a lift since we’re not all cramming into Mo’s truck.

“I need to go see Mrs. Michelman first to see how she’s holding up,” Pete said, despite the fact that what he really wanted to do was go to Alyssa. “Finding out her stepson put her through all this has to have been a shock.”

Tom nodded. “She was moved to the furniture store of the strip mall on Russell Ave. while Xander took out the shooter who was after your girlfriend. “

“What?” Gerald asked, confused.

“The guy who shot at Alyssa and Roscoe were after Mr. and Mrs. Michelman,” Tom explained. “We had to get her out of the hotel and to a safe location.”

Gerald frowned, unconvinced. “A furniture store is a safe location?”

“It’s more like a warehouse. Closed to the public. Owned by a guy who owes—”

Tom stopped himself when Jackson made a slicing motion against his throat.

Gerald looked between the two men, intrigued.

Pete knew what it was Tom had been about to say, but he agreed with Jackson that some things were better kept secret. “I’ve got to see her.”

“I can take you,” Mauricio offered. “I’ll swing by the gym while I’m on that side of town.”

The five went their separate ways, but not before Tom hugged his younger brother tightly, whispering, “Don’t you
ever
scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try,” Pete pledged, a lump rising in his throat.

Mauricio and Pete began the ride across town.

“Mind if I grab a quick catnap?” Pete asked. “I’m beat.”

“Go for it.”

Leaning back in his seat, soothed by the rhythm of the moving car, Pete drifted off immediately.

“So there’s something I don’t get about this whole thing,” Mauricio said suddenly, waking him up.

Startled out of the X-rated dream he’d been having about Alyssa, Pete replied sleepily, “Huh?”

“The old lady’s stepson, why’d he do it?”

“Money, I’d guess.”

“But then why not to try to knock off his father at the same time? I mean, what’s he going to inherit if the old man’s alive?”

Pete sat up. “You have a point.” He thought about Lester Michelman’s lack of wealth, his bad investments. The fact he’d been conveniently “at the club” at the time of the house fire. And hadn’t he been in the room when Tara had said the statue was a fake? What if he was in on it with Ralph?

He
was
the person most likely to benefit from Mildred’s death…

“Call Xander,” Pete practically shouted.

Using the truck’s Bluetooth, Mauricio did as he asked, while at the same time driving faster and more aggressively. The ringing of the phone reverberated through the speakers.

“Pick up,” Pete urged.

“The Great,” Xander answered.

“Are you with Mrs. Michelman?” Pete asked.

“She’s with Blondie.”

Pete took that to mean Alyssa was with her. “Where’s her husband?”

“Trying to bail out his wayward son.” Xander’s voice dropped. “This Mildred is a feisty old broad. She told him not to bother coming back.”

Mauricio took a turn so tightly that the truck threatened to tip and the tires squealed in protest.

Clutching the dashboard to keep himself upright, Pete frowned. His son had been caught. His wife had kicked him out. What did Lester have left to lose?

Save her.

“Where are they?”

“They’re in the furniture store.”

“Where are you?” Pete demanded.

“Across the street. They wanted some privacy so Roscoe and I came to get something to eat… What’s wrong, Pete?”

“Get to her. Get to her now,” Pete begged. He knew that his friend would think he meant Mildred, but he really meant Alyssa.

Save her.

But it might have been too late. As Mauricio slid to a stop outside the furniture shop, Xander and Roscoe were running toward them.

Pete jumped out of the truck, cold fear coursing through his veins.

Alyssa watched Mildred carefully.

The older woman, clutching Mr. Burberry to her chest, sat on a plastic-coved sofa, staring at the pink, ceramic urn, placed on a glass coffee table in front of her, along with the framed photograph of her first husband.

She’d already been told about Ralph before Alyssa got there. Lester had been storming out as she’d arrived, Mildred coolly telling him to not come back if he chose his good-for-nothing son over her.

Since then Mildred had been sitting, stroking her cat.

It was the cat who’d started this whole thing. Alyssa shook her head, realizing that wasn’t true. The cat had been taken
after
Amy Winn had saved Mildred from being mugged
and
after a bomb had been left in her car.

But Ralph and his father had been out of the country when those things had happened.

Then again, Ralph had hired men to help him execute his scheme. Why couldn’t they have been working for him while he had the perfect alibi?

Alyssa had tried to engage the older woman in conversation twice, but both times silence had been the only response. This time, she sat down beside her. Taking a deep breath, she tried a third time, asking the question that was really bothering her, “Why are you changing your will?”

Mildred blinked and looked down at her feline companion. “I wanted to make sure Mr. Burberry will be taken care of.”

“But you weren’t leaving the rest of the estate to your husband?” Alyssa phrased it as a question so that it would sound like a guess, in an attempt to hide Gerald’s breach of confidentiality.

Mildred nodded. “I was never sure if he married me for love or money,” she confessed sadly. “And over the years, especially the last ten, I grew to understand that even if it had been about love in the beginning, now all he cares about is money. And Ralph,” she added grudgingly.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa murmured.

She shrugged. “So I decided I would give my money to what
I
loved. Cats. I met this wonderful young man, Jacob, at a fundraiser. Charming young man. He’s a veterinarian and helps to run a cat rescue.” She sighed. “I felt an instant connection with him, so I decided to leave him the bulk of my estate. I know he’ll put it to good use.”

A chill ran down Alyssa’s spine as the older woman spoke. Gerald was right when he said she didn’t know Jacob was her grandson. She had to be told.

“So you tried to write me out of the will,” Lester Michelman said in a voice shaking with anger.

Alyssa and Mildred turned to find him walking toward them, pointing a gun.

Instinctively, Alyssa leaned toward Mildred, wanting to protect her. “You and Ralph were in on it together,” she accused.

“At first, it was just me,” he corrected. “But then one day he caught me switching out one of his stepmother’s horrible pieces of cat art and he wanted in.”

“What
are
you going on about?” Mildred snapped.

“Tara was right,” Alyssa explained gently. “That cat statue was a fake. I’d hazard a guess that a lot of the items in your house were replicas.”

Mildred must have squeezed Mr. Burberry too tightly because he hissed. She let him go and he jumped down to the floor.

“Is that why you burnt down the house?” Alyssa asked. “So she wouldn’t find out you’d been stealing from her?”

“That was part of the reason,” he admitted, “But really, knowing that she wouldn’t leave those behind”—he pointed the gun at the urn and picture—“I was hoping she’d die in that house.”

Mildred sucked in a breath.

“But I never was a lucky man.” He swung the gun toward Mildred.

She raised her chin defiantly, fixing the man she was married to with a withering look full of scorn. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’ve known for a long time how you’ve blamed me for your own shortcomings, Lester.”

“You pretend that you’re blameless in all this,” her husband countered, “but what do you think it does to a man to know that he can never live up to the memory of his wife’s sainted lover?”

“Husband,” Mildred corrected. “Husband. Partner. Beloved.”

Alyssa looked around for a weapon.

Her vase.
That’s what Gerald had said.

She focused on the urn.

Her vase.

But that’s not what Pete had thought those letters had meant. He’d been convinced they’d meant
save her
.

What if Pete and Gerald were both right, but their messages were meant to be combined?

What if she used her vase to save her?

As Lester aimed the gun at his wife’s chest, Alyssa snatched up the urn and threw it at his head.

Distracted, his shot went wild.

Mildred screamed.

Before he could get off another, Alyssa dove at him, knocking him to his feet with a low tackle.

For a moment they both lay on the ground; him stunned by her attack, her paralyzed by the pain wracking her body. Simultaneously, they realized he’d dropped the gun when he’d fallen. They both scrambled toward it.

“Run!” she shouted to Mildred, straining for the gun.

The sound of a gunshot almost brought Pete to his knees. He couldn’t believe the woman he loved was being shot at. Again.

Save her!

Ignoring the warning shouts of his friends, Pete ran into the furniture store without a moment’s thought to his own safety. He barreled in, shouting her name, “Alyssa.”

Rounding a corner, he ran right into someone, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Another gunshot echoed in the building.

“Help’s coming,” he whispered to Mildred, extricating his body from hers. “Stay here.”

Before the old woman could protest, he was back on his feet, moving deeper into the store.

Heart pounding, terror turning his guts inside out, he crept forward, afraid of what he might find.

Realizing that Lester would reach the gun before her, Alyssa changed her strategy. Instead of chasing after it, she focused on putting as much distance as possible between them, crawling in the other direction.

Even so, his second shot only missed her by inches. Reaching the back wall of the store, she got to her feet and ran toward an opening that led to a hallway that housed the retailer’s offices.

She knew, without even looking, that Lester wasn’t far behind.

Entering the hall, she was faced with her worst nightmare. She had to choose which door to go through. If she chose wrong…

Like a demented guardian angel speaking to her, Alyssa heard Armani’s voice in her head.
Choose the right door.

“Which one?” she muttered, as he heard Lester’s footsteps.

Then she remembered “drowned cat.” Armani meant things literally.

Desperate, Alyssa put her faith in the crazy psychic’s hands and did exactly what she’d been told. She went through the door on the right.