Claws of Action Read online

  She turned her floor fan slightly, and a gentle breeze wafted toward her bed. Lara tossed her tablet onto her bedspread and plunked down beside it. She fired it up and entered Evonda Fray’s name into the search engine.

  No surprise—her name brought up several links right away. After all, how many Evonda Frays could there be? From the photos that popped up on the screen, it was definitely the same woman. Straggly blond hair, a hard expression, a smile that never reached her eyes.

  Fray had worked at numerous jobs, which didn’t surprise Lara. With her grating personality, it was unlikely she’d won any congeniality awards from coworkers. People like Fray changed jobs frequently, always on the lookout for a better gig.

  One particular link caught Lara’s eye—a Web site to a photography business of which Evonda was the proprietor. Lara clicked the link. A stunning array of wildlife photos filled the page. Predominant among the photos were birds of prey—snowy owls, bald eagles, turkey vultures. Lara remembered the blackbird pendant she’d seen hanging around the health inspector’s neck. Did Fray have a fixation on birds?

  The sale prices for the framed photos varied, but most were in the two-hundred-dollar range. Fray surely wouldn’t have gotten rich from her business. She had, however, earned some glowing reviews from people who’d purchased her photos.

  Lara scrolled all the way to the end. The most recent entry was back in 2014. Did Fray still sell her photography? Or had she closed down the business in pursuit of other interests?

  As for social media, it didn’t look as if the woman had a Facebook page, or a Twitter or an Instagram account. Not the social type, Lara surmised, though that certainly didn’t surprise her.

  A horrible thought gripped Lara. She tapped at the keyboard and went to their own Facebook page—the High Cliff Shelter for Cats. Would Fray have been so malicious as to leave a nasty comment there?

  After a quick check, Lara breathed a sigh of relief. If Fray had visited their Facebook page, it wasn’t obvious. The page did, however, have a recent like from Brian Downing. That made Lara smile.

  She powered off her tablet and plugged it in to recharge just as Snowball hopped onto her bed. Lara grinned at the cat, then ran her hand over Snowball’s pure-white fur. Several white hairs clung to her fingers. “You, young lady, need a good brushing. Look at the way you’re shedding!”

  For the rest of the day, Lara busied herself with cat grooming and other tasks to take her mind off the health inspection. Aunt Fran tried to be cheerful. She bustled around the kitchen, setting a small plate of brownies on the table.

  Neither of them touched the brownies.

  Neither of them mentioned Evonda.

  By eleven, Lara tumbled into bed.

  Waiting for the health inspector to show up in the morning felt like free-falling from a plane without a parachute.

  Chapter Five

  By Tuesday morning, Lara’s nerves felt as if they’d been shredded with a cheese grater. She’d risen early, unable to sleep once the sun poked its nose through the blinds. After feeding the cats, she busied herself cleaning the kitchen and changing all the litter boxes, but every time she heard a noise, she jumped.

  At her aunt’s urging, she finally agreed to take a break and have a fast breakfast.

  “I assume you’re skipping the coffee shop this morning,” Aunt Fran said. Dolce, a long-haired black kitty, was nestled in her lap. Aunt Fran spread strawberry jam over an English muffin half.

  “I am.” Lara poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “I want to be here when Evonda shows up with her cease-and-desist order.”

  “If she shows up.” Aunt Fran rested her hand on the black kitty curled in her lap. “In my opinion, bullies are cowards at heart. She might well be all bluster and bark, with no bite.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t risk it,” Lara said. Nor did she believe it.

  A striped orange cat ambled into the kitchen. Munster hopped onto Lara’s lap, rested his chin on the table, and examined her banana peel. He started to reach for it, but she held him back. “Aren’t you the pushy one today?” she teased.

  Munster was one of the original cats adopted by Aunt Fran, along with Dolce and Twinkles. The three were house cats, not available for adoption. Friendly and sociable, Munster was the unofficial greeter of all human visitors.

  “How did Smuggles do last night?” Aunt Fran asked.

  “He did well, actually. He seems content, although I’m sure he misses Brian. He pretty much stays curled up on the cushion and sleeps. This morning I gave him fresh water and food. Most of his teeth are gone, so he can only eat soft food. He used the litter box during the night, which tells me he feels comfortable being here. Later, I’m going to give him a good, long brushing.”

  “Are you sure it was he who used the litter box?”

  “Yes, because I saw him. I…well, I slept kind of badly last night. At one point I woke up and found Orca and Pearl wrestling over something they’d dug out of my laundry bag.” She shook her head and chuckled.

  They finished breakfast, and Lara made sure the sink was spotless. To keep herself from going crazy, she pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the downstairs closet and began running it over all the rooms.

  By ten fifteen, Mrs. Fray still hadn’t arrived. Had she changed her mind? Or was she making them sweat it out by showing up late?

  “Was that the doorbell?” Lara shoved the vacuum into the hall closet.

  “No. That was only my phone with a text.” Aunt Fran pulled it out of the pocket of her summery green capris. “It’ll be okay, Lara. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

  “But today’s an adoption day, Aunt Fran! What are we going to do?”

  Her aunt steered her over to the sofa, and the two sat down.

  “Aren’t you going to read your text?” Lara asked her.

  “In a minute. Let’s talk about this. As far as we know, the inspector’s only issue was the fact that we serve snacks in the meet-and-greet room.”

  “That we know of,” Lara cautioned. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll say our water wasn’t hot enough, or one of the cat bowls had a speck of food in it, or something equally ridiculous.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Aunt Fran said calmly. “But right now, all we can do is wait. Until we receive that order, we should go ahead with adoption day as we normally would. Tuesdays are usually pretty quiet, especially during the summer. It’s possible no one will show up at all.”

  Snowball padded over to the sofa and leaped onto Lara’s knees. Lara pulled the cat close to her chest, smiling at how easily the cat’s gentle purr soothed her battered nerves. “You’re always so levelheaded. Me, I’m like a firecracker waiting to explode. That woman pushed all my buttons yesterday. I’m still reeling from it.”

  “Believe me, she pushed several of my buttons, too. But I’ve learned that sometimes it’s best to play a waiting game. It’s surprising how many problems iron themselves out without any outside interference.”

  My wonderful, wise aunt, Lara thought. What would I ever do without her?

  Aunt Fran looked at her cell. Her eyes clouded. “Hmmm,” she said, almost to herself. She tapped out a reply, then slipped the phone back into her pocket.

  “It’s something bad, isn’t?” Lara said.

  Aunt Fran looked troubled. “I’m not sure. That was Jerry. He’s on his way over here. He said he has something to tell us, and he wanted to be sure we were both here.”

  Lara sank her fingers into Snowball’s soft fur. The window air conditioner in the large parlor kept the room comfortable on hot summer days, but the sudden chill that skittered down her spine felt as cold as a glacier.

  She rose from the sofa and propped Snowball on her shoulder, then began pacing the room. It was the cat’s favorite way to cruise the house, and it gave Lara something to focus on while
they waited for the chief of police.

  Five minutes later, she saw the chief’s car pull into the driveway. He parked directly behind the aging Saturn Lara shared with her aunt. Lara felt her heart do a high jump when his car door slammed shut.

  Aunt Fran got up quickly and answered the doorbell. “That was quick,” she told the chief with an anxious smile. “You must have been close by.”

  He gave her a peck on the cheek and strode into the large parlor. From his grim expression, Lara knew something was wrong. “Good morning, Lara.”

  “Hi, Chief,” Lara said dully. She was in no mood to be perky.

  “I’m afraid I need to talk to both of you,” the chief said. “Something has happened.”

  Lara shifted Snowball from her shoulder to her arms, then set her down on the floor. She knew the chief wasn’t a cat lover. He tolerated them only because he cared for Aunt Fran. Snowball dashed off in the direction of the kitchen, no doubt in search of a midmorning snack.

  “Let’s sit,” Aunt Fran said, taking a seat on the sofa.

  The chief nodded, then glanced around before lowering himself down next to her. Lara knew he was scoping out the room for a possible feline intrusion, especially a Munster attack. Munster had been trying to cozy up to the chief for a long time. The most he could score was a grudging pat on the head and a slight push in the opposite direction.

  Lara sat in her favorite wing chair and faced the pair.

  “Would you like something to drink, Jerry?” Aunt Fran asked, ever the perfect hostess.

  “No, thanks. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. I’ve already had about forty cups of coffee.” He twisted the brim of his hat in his large hands. “We got a call early this morning from a newspaper delivery guy. He was doing his usual route, over on Loundon Street, when he noticed something odd. There was a car in the driveway of one of his customers, and he thought he saw someone sitting in the driver’s seat.”

  “Why is that so odd?” Lara asked him. “A lot of people go to work early.”

  “True,” the chief said. “But in this case, something else caught his eye. He went over to the driver’s side and looked inside. He’s a nosy sort to begin with, but I don’t think he was prepared for what he saw.”

  A sinking feeling lodged in Lara’s stomach. “What was it?”

  “A woman was sitting behind the wheel. It was obvious she was”—he cleared his throat—“no longer breathing.”

  Aunt Fran paled. “Was the engine running?”

  The chief shook his head. “No, she hadn’t even started the car. Her cell phone was on the console beside her. It looked as if she’d started to text someone, but she didn’t get very far.”

  “Jerry, you’re being very cryptic,” Aunt Fran said. “Are you going to tell us who it is? Is it someone we know?”

  Jerry issued a long sigh. “The deceased is Evonda Fray. The same woman who ordered you to cease and desist.”

  * * * *

  Every bone in Lara’s body morphed into mush. She slid down off the chair, onto the floor, and pulled her legs to her chest. She rested her head on her knees, barely feeling the tears sliding down her cheeks. She was numb.

  Not again. Not again.

  The words rushed through her ears like a thunderous waterfall, an unwelcome reminder of the other deaths that had crossed her path since she’d returned to Whisker Jog.

  Less than two years earlier, she’d stumbled upon the body of a local businessman at the edge of her aunt’s property. The murder was solved, but not long after that, she spotted a body in the old cemetery on Deanna Daltry’s property. Then, last Christmas, a woman was killed during a cookie competition. Somehow, Lara always happened to be close by when the bodies were discovered.

  Would it never end?

  Aunt Fran went silent for a moment, then, “Was her death…from natural causes?”

  The chief frowned and shook his head. “I wish I could say yes, Fran. Unfortunately, it was abundantly clear that foul play was involved.”

  “Chief,” Lara put in, “you said it looked as if Evonda had started to text someone. Do you know who it was?”

  He gave her a wry look. “Yes, I do know. And before you ask, no, I can’t tell you. Right now, everything we viewed at the scene is strictly confidential.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room.

  Aunt Fran folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. After a long moment she looked up and said, “You’ll need to excuse me, Jerry. Lara and I need some hot tea, with lots of sugar.”

  “Be my guest,” he said kindly. “Need any help?”

  “I’ll help,” Lara said and started to rise.

  Aunt Fran went over and pressed a hand to her shoulder. “No, stay right here, both of you. It’ll only take me a minute.”

  Oh good glory, Lara thought. Do I look so shaken that Aunt Fran thinks she has to wait on me?

  A sudden movement at one corner of her vision made Lara glance over to her left. From in front of the carpeted cat tree, a fluffy, cream-colored cat with startling blue eyes watched her.

  Blue.

  Lara wished desperately she could stroke the cat’s gorgeous fur or tickle her under her chin. But she knew the Ragdoll cat was as ephemeral as smoke, a presence that would fade as her energy waned.

  You’re here to comfort me, aren’t you? Lara thought.

  In response, Blue lowered herself to a sphinx position. Her dark-brown tail twitched, and she blinked.

  Lara felt the chief studying her. She turned to face him. “Is there anything else, Chief? Something you’re not telling us?”

  “Wait until Fran gets back,” he said quietly.

  “I’m here,” Aunt Fran said, coming in with a tray.

  The chief jumped to his feet and retrieved the tray from her. He set it down on a side table. Aunt Fran had brought out three mugs. “How about I pour?” he said. “Seeing as you added a third mug, I’ve decided to join you.”

  He prepared a mug for each of them, then sat down again. Blue had already vanished. Lara remained on the floor, her fingers clasped around her mug. Even on a day that would soon be sweltering, she relished the warmth seeping into her hands.

  “Chief, you said the delivery guy noticed something in particular,” Lara reminded him.

  “He did. And the only reason I’m going to disclose it to you is because he’s already blabbed about it to half the town, so we aren’t going to be able to withhold it from the public. The guy’s a chatterbox by nature, but when we took him in for questioning, he told everyone he bumped into what he saw.”

  “The poor man was probably so traumatized,” Aunt Fran offered, “that telling people helped him deal with what he saw.” She took a tiny sip of her tea.

  The chief flashed a smile at her. “That is a very generous way to look at it.”

  “You’re stalling, Chief,” Lara said.

  His expression sobered. “When the delivery person peeked into Ms. Fray’s car window this morning, he saw a red sneaker sticking out of her mouth. The toe of the sneaker was jammed inside.”

  Lara gasped, nearly spilling her tea. Evonda had worn red sneakers the day before, when she performed her so-called inspection of the shelter. “Oh my…that is just…gruesome.” She set her mug down on the tile in front of the fireplace.

  Aunt Fran looked horrified. “That is truly awful. It sounds to me as if the killer was trying to make a statement.” Her voice trembled.

  “That’s how I see it, too.” The chief hesitated, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “There’s something else. On the front seat, next to her cell phone, was an order relating to this shelter. In fact”—he cleared his throat again—“she was actually holding the order in one hand.”

  “The cease-and-desist order?” Lara asked.

  “Exactly. Evidently, she was planning to deliver it to yo
u in person this morning. Either that or she planned to bring it to the sheriff’s office and have them serve you officially. She could have done it either way.”

  Lara slowly shook her head. “No. She would have taken great pleasure in hand-delivering it here.” She swallowed. “Is the order…official?”

  “Technically, yes,” the chief said. “In this case, however, Ms. Fray hadn’t filed a motion for summary enforcement with the district court. Presumably, she was going to do that today, but…” He broke off.

  “Yeah,” Lara said after a long pause. “But.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as you think,” the chief said. “Whether she liked it or not, she obviously knew you had a permit to operate the shelter. The order was only to cease and desist from serving any manner of food or drink to prospective…shoppers, I guess you’d call them.”

  Aunt Fran smiled. “We call them people who want to give loving homes to deserving cats.”

  Chief Whitley returned her smile, a slight twinkle in his eye despite the situation. “I know you do, Fran.”

  “Chief, today’s an adoption day,” Lara said. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, but what should we do now?”

  “I’m aware,” he said, his tone ominous. “Unfortunately, I’m going to need you both to come down to the station today to give statements to one of the state police investigators. This morning would be preferable, but you need to do it before the end of the day.”

  I know the drill, Lara thought grimly.

  “Is that because of the cease-and-desist order?” Aunt Fran asked.

  The chief shifted slightly on the sofa. “Pretty much. Plus, Evonda was heard bragging to people yesterday about ‘putting that cat shelter in its place.’ Both her son and daughter-in-law repeated it when they were being questioned at home this morning.”

  Lara suspected Evonda had said far worse than that. The chief was no doubt being diplomatic. “So Evonda had kids?”

  “Only the one son. Her husband died several years ago.”

  “As far as giving statements, this morning is better for us,” her aunt said.