Claws for Alarm (3 page)

“Did he?”

A pause and then, “What do you think?”

I sighed. “I think Pichard sounds like a man with a grudge and a very big axe to wield—or a gun. If he isn't responsible for Nick's disappearance himself, he might know something about it.”

“Ordinarily I'd tend to agree, but Pichard's been off the radar for years. He's disappeared even more effectively than Nick has. The last address I have on file for him is over five years old. Mandrake the Magician's got nothing on him.”

“Haven't you heard?” I couldn't keep the smile out of my voice. “I'm pretty good at finding people who do just that. Now, what about Pichard's ex-wife? Got any info on her?”

“Nothing current. Isobel moved to Italy two years ago. She wouldn't be of any help anyway. Wanted nothing to do with Pichard once the ink was dry on the divorce papers. Listen, Nora,” Ollie sighed. “I'd sure like to know what happened to Nick, but digging around about Pichard—that just seems like asking for trouble. Besides, lately I've been thinking . . . maybe Nick
wanted
to disappear.”

I sat up straighter. “You think he vanished on purpose?”

“Who knows? I'm just saying it's a possibility. Nick knows many ways to make himself scarce.” Ollie paused and then added, “Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“Maybe so, but I've never been one to do what's best.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay. I can see your mind is made up. But don't say I didn't warn you. And if you need help—any help at all—you call me, y'hear?”

“I hear. And thanks.”

I put down the phone and nibbled at my lower lip. Almost as if he knew I'd been thinking about him, Nick appeared, jumping into my lap with surprising ease for a cat of his girth. I rubbed the sensitive area behind his ears and whispered into his ruff, “You'd like to know what happened to your former master too, wouldn't you?”

Nick raised his sleek black head. “
Er-ewl
,” he mewled as his little (debatable point) kitty claws moved up and down, kneading my lap.

“That's what I thought.” I picked up the piece of paper on which I'd written the address Ollie'd given me. “St. Leo isn't far away—as a matter of fact it's only about two miles from Aunt Prudence's house. We could conceivably kill two birds with one stone, say, tomorrow afternoon?”

His steady rumble made me smile. I gave his head a quick pat. “I thought you'd agree.” I reached for my cell phone. “Maybe I'd better warn Aunt Prudence we're going to be stopping by, though. So she can prepare my sister.”

Nick's eyes popped wide, and he leaned back on his haunches, pawed at the air.

I laughed. “Yes, she might find you charming, and then again . . . with Lacey, you can never tell. We—we've never gotten along all that well. I'm sure she'll like you, though.” I leaned over to stroke his head, and I didn't imagine the cat smile he gave me. As I reached for my cell with my other hand, it started to ring. I snatched it up, glanced at the number,
and then hit the button. “Aunt Prudence. You must be psychic. I was just going to call you.”

“Oh, Nora, I'm so glad I got you.” My aunt's voice was a high-pitched wail of distress. “The most awful thing has happened.

“Your sister's been arrested—for murder.”

I
was so startled at my aunt's declaration that for a minute, I couldn't speak. Finally, I stammered, “M-murder? What—are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure,” my aunt sniffed. “I was standing right in my own living room when it happened.”

I tugged at an errant curl, trying to process the information my aunt had just pummeled me with. “But are you sure they arrested her? Maybe they just took her in for questioning.”

“When that detective came in and read Lacey her rights, he said outright he was arresting her for the murder of Thaddeus Pitt.”

“Thaddeus Pitt?” It was my turn to sound incredulous. “The Thaddeus Pitt? The one who owns the art school Lacey's going to?”

“Yes, yes, he's the one. That's what's going to make this so
complicated. I mean, the man is a legend here. Why it's like—like murdering Santa Claus.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “You know all this is very traumatizing to me, Nora. I realize it must seem old hat to you, what with your background and all, but I've never actually seen anyone arrested before, let alone a beloved family member. And for MURDER!”

My temples started to pound, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “They've got to have some sort of evidence,” I said. “They can't charge anyone without reasonable cause. Unless there's some specific reason they feel a murder charge would stick, she should just be considered a person of interest.”

There was a slight hesitation, and then my aunt said slowly, “Would standing over the body holding the murder weapon be enough to make a murder charge—how did you say it—stick?”

“WHAT?” This got worse with each successive sentence. “Are you telling me she fled the scene? That's not good, Aunt Prudence. Flight is considered evidence of guilt.”

“
Fled
is such a strong term, Nora. Your sister wasn't thinking clearly. She's never been good under pressure—you know she's not coolheaded and collected like you are, dear. She intended to go down to the police station, once she'd calmed down, but by then that detective came to arrest her.”

I squinched my eyes shut. It was true, my sister had done some pretty outrageous things in the past, but I also doubted her capable of murder, whether it was premeditated or in the heat of passion. However, law enforcement would surely view her being caught with the body and then fleeing the scene in a not-so-favorable light.

My aunt was still moaning into the phone. “Oh, it's such an awful mess. Irene—that's Irene MacGillicuddy—you remember her? My childhood friend? Well, maybe not. Anyway, she's staying here at my house—hers is being fumigated, long story—anyway, I don't know what I'd have done if Irene hadn't been here. She told me I should call you right away.”

I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. Prudence's habit of drawing out details hadn't diminished over the years, that was for sure. “Yes, it's good you did. Now, did you also call a lawyer?”

“I called Herbie Jenkins—he's taken care of my affairs for years, but he only does family law, and Monroe Schlessinger only does real estate. They did make some recommendations, but—” She uttered a long, drawn-out sigh. “No one in the family's ever been accused of murder before. I just don't know what to do, or who to hire. Oh, it's such a
mess
.” The last was another long, drawn-out wail.

I made up my mind. “Okay, Aunt Prudence, you just sit tight. Hot Bread's closed now, so I'm going to make a few calls, see if I can track down a lawyer.” I glanced at my watch. “It's not too late—maybe there's still something that can be done today.”

“Oh, thank you, dear.” My aunt's tone brightened considerably at my announcement. “I knew we could count on you. You were always the levelheaded one in the family.” Aunt Prudence took a quick breath and then continued, “It's true, I don't know many of the details, but I know my niece. Lacey might have panicked and done some foolish things, but she's not a killer. Why, she has trouble offing a spider. How could she murder a
person
?”

*   *   *

O
nce I'd calmed my aunt down as best I could under the circumstances, I immediately called Daniel Corleone. I got his answering machine, so I left a message, hitting the highlights and asking him to dig up any information he could on Pitt's murder.

Daniel Corleone is an FBI agent whose acquaintance I'd made during my previous adventure. Our professional relationship had a rocky beginning, for sure, but we'd also both felt a mutual attraction to each other in spite of it. Following the successful completion of that case, he'd accepted a position heading up an FBI satellite office in Carmel. He shared the office with a DOJ (that's Department of Justice, for those not in the know) agent, Rick Barnes, for whom I suspected Chantal harbored quite a crush. Over the past few weeks Daniel and I had been “getting to know” each other over some casual lunches. As of yet, our relationship hadn't gotten past the friendly stop-by-for-a-quick-lunch level, but after my last relationship (which had turned very, very sour . . . another long story), taking it slow seemed a good idea to me.

Since I've never been a particularly patient person, and since I had no clue how long it would be before Daniel might call back, I dragged out my trusty laptop and proceeded to search for some mention of Pitt's murder, which proved to be no easy feat. There were loads of articles on Pitt—on his contributions to the town of Carmel, his academic prowess, his school. Likening him to Santa Claus was putting it mildly. A male Mother Teresa would be more apropos. Hardly a mention, though, of his untimely end; apparently
the Carmel police were trying to keep the incident on the down low. I finally found one mention in the
Carmel
Herald
:

LOCAL CELEBRITY FOUND STABBED TO DEATH

Professor found dead in office

Professor Thaddeus Pitt, 58, renowned artist and the founder of the Pitt Institute located in nearby St. Leo, was found stabbed to death Wednesday evening in his office at the school on Peachtree Drive.

Pitt's body was discovered around ten thirty Wednesday evening. Police were called to the scene shortly thereafter. The cause of death appears to be a stab wound directly to the heart. An autopsy will be held to accurately determine the cause and exact time of death.

A California native, Pitt was raised in both California and Texas. He displayed artistic ability at an early age and was admitted into the prestigious Otis College of Art and Design at age 16. He gained fame for both his Impressionistic drawings and portraits of famous people such as Marilyn Monroe and Pope John Paul XXIII. His work hangs in museums such as the Guggenheim, the Smithsonian, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Although he himself has not painted for the last fifteen years, Pitt's school, started twelve years ago, has produced many fine artists, all of whom mourn his untimely passing.

Even though a possible suspect has been taken into custody, the police declined further comment at this time, other than to say the incident remains under investigation.

At least, I thought thankfully, Lacey's name was withheld—for the time being. I drummed my fingers on the edge of my desk. I needed more details, and I also needed to find a good criminal lawyer. I'd known tons in Chicago, but here . . . As I debated the situation my phone rang. I glanced at the number, then immediately picked it up.

“Daniel, hi. Thank you for calling back so quickly.”

“Well, I'm FBI, remember? Speed is our middle name.” His tone sobered. “How are you holding up, Nora? This must have been quite a shock for you.”

“Well, Lacey is the last person I'd ever expect to be accused of murder—then again I haven't really been in touch with her in a long, long, time. I keep thinking how my mother would have reacted.” I swallowed over the sudden lump in my throat. “So, were you able to find out any details?”

“The way the St. Leo detective explained it, the night guard heard a scream and went to investigate. He found your sister standing over Pitt's body, knife clutched in her hand. The guard's a pretty old guy, and when he went to grab your sister's arm, she pushed him out of the way and got the hell out of there. She kept her face averted, so he couldn't really see it—but Lacey's name was in Pitt's appointment book, and she fit the guard's general description.”

“Fantastic,” I sighed. “Whatever possessed her to touch that knife? She used to watch those crime shows with Mom. She should have known better.”

“True. When you combine that with fleeing the scene and what transpired earlier in the day, it provided enough reasonable cause to book her for murder one.”

I felt a chill snake up my spine. “What happened earlier in the day?”

“Apparently the grade Pitt gave your sister didn't sit too well with her. They had a, quote unquote, heated exchange. That's why they were meeting. She was supposed to show him some of her sketches for extra credit—so he'd pass her.”

“Great. So, I guess she's in jail?”

I pushed my hand through my hair. No one knew better than I just how vicious Lacey could get in the heat of an argument. Our mother had always said her tongue was like a battle weapon—a sharp-edged sword. Still, I had the distinct impression Daniel was holding something back. Before I could call him on it he added, “She's being held at St. Leo County Jail. And more bad news—I hear the DA thinks this is pretty open and shut.”

“Well,” I sighed, “this cinches it. She's going to need a good criminal lawyer. Too bad Perry Mason's a fictional character. What I need right now is a reasonable facsimile thereof.”

“I just might be able to help you. My friend Peter Dobbs was an FBI agent, but he left it all behind to go to law school. He's been working the past year as a public defender in San Francisco, and just last month he opened his own law firm in St. Leo. He interned for a year at the DA's office, too, working for his uncle—Helmut Dobbs.”

I let out a low whistle. You had to be living under a rock not to at least be aware of Helmut Dobbs's reputation. As the DA of Los Angeles County he'd put some pretty high-profile criminals away. “Your friend has a good pedigree. Do you think he'd be willing to take the case?”

“He's not only willing; he's at the jail with your sister as we speak. He told me to tell you to meet him there tomorrow morning at seven thirty a.m. sharp. He'll get you in to see her before the arraignment.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “If you were here right now, I'd give you a great big kiss.”

“Hold on to that thought. By the way, I'm going to be incommunicado for a few days, but I'll check back with you as soon as I can.”

Disappointment arrowed through me. “New case?” I asked, and then added, “You don't have to say. I realize you probably can't talk about it anyway.”

“Thanks for understanding. Now, you're sure you're going to be all right?”

Aha! The million-dollar question. “I have to be. Lacey needs me to think clearly, because all this has to be one huge mistake.” I paused. “Unless there's something you're not telling me?”

There was a moment of silence and then Daniel said, “Well, you'll find out tomorrow anyway. When I told you there was a heated exchange I was being kind.

“When Pitt gave her that grade, she flipped out and threatened to kill him—in front of about thirty witnesses.”