Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Read online

  I had been wary all the way home. Was I being watched? Followed? What if whoever killed Mallory decided to get rid of me, too? I had driven into the garage and shut the door before unlocking and exiting my car. The instant I set foot in the kitchen, I reset the alarm and sighed with relief. Jack had promised to ask for extra police patrols in my neighborhood.

  Satisfied that I was okay, Miles went into action. In a burst of energy, he did a dismount, nailed the landing, and launched into his “crazy cat” routine with his tail kinked. Miles bolted out of the kitchen, roared like a mini-lion, then leaped up and over the back of the couch, ran under the coffee table, and plopped back down at my feet, almost before I could blink. This routine was in celebration of my homecoming. One he performed nightly, it always made me laugh.

  In addition to concern for my welfare and a celebratory spirit, Miles possesses a keen sense of order. He keeps me on task, anticipating where I’ll go and what I’ll do next. With Miles leading the way, I headed to the bedroom where I changed into pajamas. As I shed each item of clothing, I scrapped another layer of “ick” from the day. By the time I put on my soft, floral knit pajamas, I almost felt like the old me again.

  Better, in fact. Jack’s smile floated before me, and his hearty laugh echoed, as I fixed Miles his evening snack and made myself a cup of herbal tea. After that warning from Jack to remain alert, we stopped pondering "whodunit" and why. Dinner became more of a real date as we exchanged tidbits about our lives.

  Jack and I came from very different backgrounds—me, the youngest of four children, and he, an only child. My mother was a stay-at-home mom, his, a school teacher. His dad had been a machinist, mine an accountant.

  We also had some things in common. Both of us were born and raised in California. We share a love of the outdoors, although neither of us has had much time for hiking, cycling or swimming. A big fan of jazz like I am, Jack prefers the sax to a trumpet. Jack and I both enjoy theater and art as well as food and wine. I liked what I had learned so far and felt eager to know more about him. Consequently, I did something impulsive over our decaf coffee. I invited Jack to dinner. Now I felt almost panicky. What had I done? One date and I offer the guy a home-cooked meal! Fortunately, our get-together wouldn’t happen for another week. That seemed prudent since both of us would be busy dealing with the consequences of Mallory’s murder at Catmmando Mountain.

  What would I serve? While heating water for tea, I perused the cupboards and conducted a quick inventory. Miles stopped eating to snoop along with me. Soon bored by what he found, he resumed snacking. I struggled to fight off the ridiculous spell of anxiety that had gripped me as I stared at items on the shelves.

  Was it the feelings Jack had stirred in me that had me riled up? Or the dreadful circumstances of the day? Perhaps, a combination of the two. This situation wasn't the first one in which romance and murder had crossed my path, although it was premature to characterize my relationship with Jack as romantic. A little shudder of pleasure betrayed me. Dinner had been about more than business—deadly business. A different sort of shudder slinked down my backbone. I shut the cupboard doors and shifted my attention to Miles.

  “Playtime,” I announced as my tea steeped. Miles expects only a few minutes of fun from the feather teaser as part of our nightly routine, but he makes the most of it. The little guy can fly, leaping into the air in pursuit of those feathers. He gets all stealthy, too, as though the element of surprise gives him a better chance to catch his prey. I’m the one who’s often surprised by a new trick in his display of feline prowess. He’s a natural born clown, adding twists and turns, or Ninja yowls that make me laugh out loud.

  Playtime over, I took my tea into the family room and watched the late edition of the local news. There we all were. Doug came across as tense, but he had stayed on message. Jack and I stood off to the side. The film crew had caught us both on tape. My eyes were fixed on Doug, willing him to hold it together, while Jack was watching me. I reacted with a flush of warmth at the frankness of his gaze captured in that unguarded moment.

  The video clip ended, and the news anchors wrapped up the story. Late in the day, Mallory’s name had been released to the public. Max had gone into seclusion, thank goodness. All in all, matters were under control—no more leaks and no public tantrums or gory photos. Not a word implied that I or anyone else at Marvelous Marley World had anything to do with the crime. A quick search on the Internet revealed much the same thing.

  As I sipped my tea, I typed menu ideas for that dinner with Jack. Soon, I found myself going over the case, instead. I made a list of the names of the people we had spoken about at dinner, and then added Debbie Dinsmore, of all people, to that list. She seemed straightforward when she had calmed down enough to answer my questions. Still, what if there had been more to Purrsilla’s meltdown than a reaction to stumbling upon that horrible murder scene? I’m sure Jack had considered that, but I’d mention it to him.

  He should also have a chat with Megan Donnelly. She might know more about who Mallory was hassling at Snappy Treats. Megan might also be aware of other problems at eateries in Arcadia Park. What if Mallory had shown up early to do her job? Checking up on an issue at one of the Snappy Treats outlets, or another park restaurant, could be better handled before guests arrived. Had Mallory stumbled upon mischief that no one intended for her to see or reveal to others?

  My mind raced with “what ifs” and whodunits. It cleared my head to write everything down. Who had leaked information about the incident before Doug and I arrived at the scene? I added names Doug had mentioned of people who were the first to find, report, and react to the incident.

  Several colleagues who had tangled with Mallory at executive committee meetings came to mind, including a board member who had stormed out on one occasion. I added their names to my list.

  During those stressful months I worked with Mallory in the Food and Beverage Division before moving to PR, there had been trouble. I had dealt with several irate suppliers Mallory had insulted or angered by disregarding contractual arrangements. I struggled to recall their names and the nature of the disputes.

  The task of listing potential suspects totally absorbed me. Miles had snuggled up against me when I sat down but disappeared at some point. He suddenly made his whereabouts known with a piercing yowl. I yelped in response and leaped to my feet, almost dropping my laptop in the process.

  “What in the world?”

  Miles flew to the large picture window in the room, stood on the back of an armchair, and poked his head through the drapes I had drawn. Staring out into the darkness, he twitched his tail and began to growl. The fur on his back stood up, as did the hairs on the back of my neck. I slipped up behind Miles, trying not to startle him.

  “What is it, Sweetie?” I peeked through an opening in the drapes and thought I saw movement outside. Garbage cans on the side of the house rattled as though someone had banged against them. My heart pounded. I was about to call 911 when a cat squalled and took off, with a second cat chasing him. Miles gave the glass in front of him a couple of “get out of here and stay out of here” smacks. Then he jumped down and began grooming himself. Crisis over. That was it for me, too. This day was over.

  “Bedtime,” I declared. Miles tore off. By the time I washed out my teacup and switched off the lights, Miles had turned in. He sleeps in the same cat bed he’s had since he was a kitten. I’ve bought him bigger ones, but he has turned up his nose at them. I smiled at the furry little guy, rolled up into a ball and squeezed into his bed at the foot of my own. Why had I told Jack I live a solitary life?

  7 No Boy-Toy Photo

  My sleep had been restless. The full impact of what had happened the day before, hit me like a ton of bricks after Miles woke me with a bellow. A successful wake-up call when delivered two inches from my ear. I don’t know how he does it, but my cat always manages to go into rooster mode a minute or two before the alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button and closed my eyes. Would it be so
terrible if I took a sick day? Miles was having none of it. When it’s time to get up, you get up. He poked at my eyes with a soft paw and tickled my face with his whiskers until I gave in. I work for a cat at home, too.

  “Oh, all right. Breakfast!” In a blur, Miles was gone. Ten seconds later he was yowling at me from the kitchen. Can I help it if humans are so much slower than felines? “I hear, and I obey,” I shouted in reply as I dragged myself to the kitchen. He kept up a steady beat of calls, urging me on until I served him his breakfast. Blessed silence followed once Miles had his morning treats. Coffee, oatmeal, and fruit were on the menu for me. After the second cup of coffee, I managed to get through the rest of my morning routine, with Miles supervising, of course.

  On the commute to work, I reviewed the day ahead. We had a full agenda, aimed at managing the murder at Catmmando Mountain crisis. That was in addition to more general outreach and engagement activities intended to put a friendly face on Marvelous Marley World Enterprises and support its internationally recognized brands.

  Because of the theme park, we have teams involved in all sorts of local community events. Many events related to animal welfare, pet adoption, pet-owner education, and the like. A shared schedule keeps us all on the same page about who is doing what, when, and where, under normal conditions. Who knew what would happen, today? When I arrived at my office, Carol met me with more coffee—a hefty cup, freshly made.

  “Bless you, Carol!”

  “You’re going to need it. You have a visitor. Linda Grey came in here upset, so I put her in your office.”

  “Has Jack spoken to you?”

  “Ooh, Jack, is it? Chummy! I have an appointment with Detective Wheeler later. He’s going to give me the third degree, right? Not that I’ll mind too much. Meow! He’s cute, unlike that oversized tomcat roaming the halls around here.”

  “I wouldn’t call Jack cute.” I frowned. How had our conversation wandered so far off topic?

  “Don’t worry, I know Rockford’s only got eyes for you.” She winked.

  I blushed.

  “Don’t tease me.” Jim Rockford—that was it! James Garner, in real life, was the name of the guy I couldn’t come up with when I was trying to figure out who Jack resembled. I decided to steer the conversation back to business. “Did you put anyone in my office yesterday—or notice anyone else roaming the halls besides Dale?”

  “No, I didn’t put anyone in your office. Yes, I noticed people roaming around. This place is crawling with people all day long, Georgie. Yesterday was exceptionally busy with the uh... you know, with all that was going on with Mallory’s, uh, demise. Dale was the only visitor in a character outfit, though. No Catmmando Tom sightings today, so far. I guess you gave him 'paws' to reflect, eh? Made it 'purr-fectly' clear you 'pre- fur' the handsome detective?” I rolled my eyes.

  “How much of this coffee have you had? Enough with the cat puns, already! You know I’ve heard all of them a million times before.”

  “I know. No need to be 'catty,' I won’t annoy you any 'furr-ther.' I’m just trying to lighten things up before you go in there.” She glanced down the hall toward my office.

  “I hear you. Thanks for the coffee and the heads up.”

  In my office, I found Linda, sitting in obvious discomfort on the edge of a chair.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I said. “Hang on a sec while I settle in, then we can talk.”

  “No problem.” Linda’s reply was a whisper.

  I set my coffee down, hung up my coat, stashed my purse, and did a couple of other things while keeping an eye on Linda. She did not look well.

  “Can I get you coffee or water?”

  “Water would be great. My mouth is dry. Can you shut the door?”

  “Sure.” I shut the door and grabbed a bottle of water from a cabinet. As she opened that bottle, I sat down behind my desk. Trying to sound casual, I asked her, “What’s up?” Her hand shook as she drank from the bottle.

  “I’m worried about what’s going to happen now that Mallory’s dead.” Tears slid down her cheeks. I pulled tissues from a box on a shelf behind me and handed them to her.

  “Thanks. It’s been so awful, ever since you left the Food and Beverage Division.” A wave of guilt hit me. I felt the urge to apologize, but I didn’t want to interrupt now that she had started to speak. When she sobbed instead, I spoke.

  “I’m sorry. Will you tell me what you mean?” I smiled hoping to encourage her to open up.

  “You know how Mallory was. Always nasty. Lately, she was on Dorothy’s case, constantly. It’s like she hated Dorothy. Maybe because Dorothy was so quiet and never stood up to her. Mallory said mean things, not only about Dorothy’s work but about her appearance—her weight, her hair, her clothes—you name it! Sometimes Mallory even called her names like idiot or jerk and cursed at her. It was terrible, but what could I do?” Linda searched my face. I had to be displaying shock and horror since that’s what I felt.

  “I had no idea,” I said. “Mallory was nasty while I was there, but she never resorted to name-calling or cursing. I am so sorry you had to endure that. Why didn’t you or Dorothy come to me?”

  “I wanted to, but Dorothy wouldn’t let me. She said running to you would make it look like she couldn’t handle her job. When I asked her about going to someone else, she told me to mind my own business. I tried. Since we’re all in the same suite, I couldn’t help hearing them, especially if they left the door to Mallory’s office open. I considered going behind Dorothy’s back to complain about Mallory. That would have been professional suicide, you know? Dorothy would be angry with me, and what would I do if Mallory came after me? I need this job, Georgie.” Linda stopped talking and twisted the tissue in her hands.

  “Linda, I am so sorry. Dorothy had a responsibility to be more responsive to your concerns. If you want to file a complaint, you can still do that. Mallory can’t seek retribution now. I can understand if you’ve had it with Dorothy, too, and want to find another position in the Food and Beverage Division, or elsewhere. I’ll help you. With Mallory gone, Dorothy’s in charge. If you’d rather stay where you are, things should calm down.”

  “That’s just it. Dorothy’s gone off the deep end! I heard her shredding things yesterday and talking out loud to herself like there was someone in her office. I looked. There wasn’t anyone in there. She was slamming things around and cursing under her breath about Mallory.” Linda was trembling all over, as she continued.

  “Georgie, I’m afraid Dorothy might have had something to do with what happened to Mallory. You wouldn’t believe the fight they had a few days ago. They had the door closed, but I could hear them shouting. Not just Mallory, but Dorothy, too. Then Dorothy stormed out, and Mallory came after her cursing and saying she was going to tell her dad to fire her.” Linda squirmed in her seat.

  “Dorothy told Mallory to go ahead, and she’d tell him what was going on. Mallory went back into her office and slammed her door.”

  “Going on? What was going on?”

  “I’m not sure, but Dorothy knows. She was angry to find me sitting at my desk when she came out of there. I asked if I should call someone for help. Dorothy just pointed at me and said, ‘Don’t you dare! I’ve already told you to stay out of it.’ So I did, but now it’s too late.”

  “Have you told any of this to Detective Wheeler?”

  “Not yet. I’m supposed to talk to the police today. I wasn’t sure I could do it with Dorothy standing there, or in the other room, you know, so I came to see you first? I heard the detective is going to be here later to do a press conference, right? Can you give him this, please? When I went in to water Mallory’s plants this morning, I found it on the floor, shoved behind a potted plant near the door. I was going to put it on Mallory’s desk, but then I thought it might mean something, so I came over here to give it to you. It shocked me a little to see them together like that. Do you think it’s important?” I stared at the photo she handed me, stunned.

 
“It could be. We’ll let Detective Wheeler decide. I’m sure he’s going to want to speak to you, Linda. I don’t believe you should go back to your office until we sort this out. Is there someone we can call to get you—a friend or family member?”

  “Do you think Dorothy did it? Will she come after me next?”

  “I don’t know whether Dorothy had anything to do with Mallory’s death or not, but her behavior is inappropriate. There’s no reason for you to have to go through more distress than you already have.”

  “I’ll call my friend, Nadia. It’s her day off. She can pick me up, and I’ll go home with her. You can call me at her place when Detective Wheeler wants to talk to me.”

  “That’s a great idea. You call Nadia, and I’ll call Detective Wheeler.”

  “I don’t know what else I can tell the detective that I haven’t already told you.”

  “He’ll want to hear it from you directly—in case, I miss a point or get the details wrong. I’m grateful you’ve been willing to come forward about this. Jack Wheeler will be grateful, too.”

  Linda tried to smile as she pulled the phone from her purse and called her friend.

  I tried to reach Jack but had no luck. I left a message several places and finally asked Carol to have him drop in when he arrived to interview her. Once Linda left, I plunged into tasks planned for the day.

  When Jack returned my call later, I missed it. A few minutes before our scheduled meeting to prepare for the afternoon press conference, he zoomed into my office. I could swear I felt the air pressure change with that breezy entrance.

  “Hey, Georgie, this has been quite a day. I got your messages, and I have questions for you.” Jack dropped into the chair across from my desk.