Meow Means Murder Page 3

  “Hi,” Lauren greeted Paul, the owner. Tall and lanky, he made the office appear super small.

  “Hi, Lauren.” He peered down. “Hello, Annie.”

  “Brrt,” Annie chirped.

  “Can you tell me which room Todd Fane is in?” Lauren held up the package containing the pastries. “I have something for him.”

  “Sure.” Paul pressed a couple of buttons on a keyboard and looked at the computer screen. “He’s in room seven on the ground floor.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Brrt,” Annie added.

  “Hope he gives you a great review,” Paul called as they departed. “You deserve it.”

  Lauren smiled and waved in reply.

  “Here we are,” Lauren told Annie thirty seconds later as they stood outside the white painted door with the number seven hanging a little crookedly.

  A faint prickling along Lauren’s spine gave her pause. Was she nervous about meeting the food critic?

  “I’ll just hand the pastries to him and we can leave,” she told Annie. “We don’t even have to step inside the room.”

  She didn’t know whether she was suddenly worried that Todd would expect her to be “nice” to him the same way he’d expected Cindy to be, or if it was something else.

  She glanced down at Annie. She stood alert, her ears pricked, and stared intently at the closed door.

  “Meow.”

  Lauren frowned. Annie hardly ever gave a normal meow.

  “What is it?” she whispered to the silver tabby.

  Annie looked from Lauren to the closed door.

  “Meow,” she repeated.

  Maybe Annie just wasn’t keen on meeting the food critic again. Lauren could understand that.

  “I’ll just knock on the door.” She wasn’t sure if she spoke to herself or Annie.

  Rap, rap, rap.

  No reply.

  “Should I try again?” Lauren asked the cat.

  Annie didn’t answer, she just continued to stare at the closed door.

  “I’ll try once more and then we’ll go.”

  This time, Lauren knocked harder. On the third rap, the door swung inwards a smidgeon.

  Lauren met Annie’s gaze. The door wasn’t locked – or even shut properly?

  “Meow!” Annie looked at her with urgent green eyes.

  “Mr. Fane?” Lauren called out. What if he was injured? He could have slipped in the shower and hurt himself.

  But why was the door unlocked?

  “Maybe Paul brought him breakfast and didn’t close the door properly behind him,” Lauren spoke to Annie. Surely that was it.

  Lauren pushed the door inward a little.

  “Mr. Fane?”

  No answer.

  “Maybe we should check he’s okay.” Lauren bent down to Annie. “Do you think?”

  “Meow!”

  Maybe Annie’s behavior meant the food critic wasn’t okay.

  Lauren took a deep breath and opened the door. She stepped inside the room.

  “Mr. Fane, are you – oh!” She dropped the box of pastries, while tightening her grip on Annie’s harness with her other hand.

  Todd Fane lay sprawled on the carpet, a heavy brass lamp lying beside him.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Oh no!”

  Annie sniffed the carpet around the food critic’s body.

  Blood seeped from a large wound on his head. His eyes were closed as if he merely slept.

  Maybe Todd wasn’t dead.

  Why hadn’t she taken a CPR course? She wasn’t sure what to do.

  She dug out a small compact from her purse, bent down, and held it under his nose. Was he breathing?

  Lauren checked to see if there was a smudge on the mirror, but couldn’t see anything, just her reflection.

  “What are you doing?”

  She whipped her head around. The young guy who had visited the café with Todd yesterday loomed in the doorway.

  “We have to call 911!” Lauren grabbed her phone from her bag.

  “Is he hurt?” The young guy rushed over to the body. His t-shirt was untucked at the side of his jeans, as if he’d dressed hastily.

  “Stay back!” Lauren’s tone was sharp. She punched the buttons on her phone.

  “Why?”

  “I think he might be—” she swallowed “—dead.”

  The emergency operator came on the line. Lauren gave the room number of the motel and the address, finishing with, “I don’t think he’s alive.”

  “Are you sure?” The young guy frowned as she ended the call.

  “I don’t know how to give CPR, do you?” The coppery tang of blood hit her nostrils, and she flinched.

  “No,” he admitted.

  “I think we should move away from the ... crime scene,” she told him, leading Annie to the open doorway.

  “What happened?” He stared at her.

  “I have no idea.” She shook her head. “I stopped by to give him some of Ed’s pastries.” She pointed to the brown paper package on the floor near the food critic’s body. “He was already lying on the floor. I thought you and – Todd – Mr. Fane – were visiting the café again this morning.”

  “Yeah, we were.” The young guy nodded. “But then Todd rang me this morning and said something had come up and we’d visit at lunchtime instead.”

  “Oh.”

  Annie looked through the open door, sniffing the air. She’d been quiet this whole time.

  “Maybe we should step outside,” Lauren suggested. Perhaps Annie would feel more comfortable in the fresh air. Lauren knew she would.

  “I guess we should introduce ourselves.” The young guy held out a hand once they stepped out of the room. “I’m Brandon. I’ve been working as Todd’s intern.”

  “Lauren.” She accepted his brief handshake. “And this is Annie.” She indicated the Norwegian Forest Cat.

  “Hi, Annie.”

  “Brrp,” Annie said quietly, glancing at Brandon.

  “The 911 operator said to stay here and wait for the paramedics,” Lauren told him. “And I’ll have to tell Paul, I guess.”

  “Paul?”

  “The motel owner.” Lauren gestured toward the office.

  “I’ve got the room next to Todd and I heard you knocking on the door. I thought I’d better come and see what was happening.”

  Lauren nodded in understanding. She took a moment to scrutinize him. His hair looked a little mussed, not as neat as it had appeared yesterday when he and his boss had visited the café. Had Brandon slept late this morning, or was it something else? Like an overnight guest?

  The blare of sirens interrupted her thoughts. Paramedics arrived, along with another vehicle.

  She bit her lip as a tall man with short dark hair got out of a car. He appeared to be in his early thirties and wore charcoal gray slacks and a white dress shirt. He looked lean yet muscular, as if he worked out regularly.

  “Problem?” Brandon asked as she moved aside for the pair of paramedics.

  “No.” Lauren shook her head, wondering if she fibbed. She took a few steps away from the room, Annie following.

  “Lauren.” The deep, masculine voice sent a shiver down her spine. So did the straight nose and the mouth that looked like it didn’t smile enough.

  “Detective.” Why did it have to be Mitch Denman investigating the food critic’s death – accident – whatever it was?

  “What are you doing here?” His dark brown eyes narrowed as he studied her expression.

  She repeated what she’d told Brandon.

  “I saw her standing over Todd’s body,” Brandon broke in.

  Lauren’s eyes widened. Was his tone accusatory?

  “But I’m sure she was checking to see if he was breathing,” Brandon added.

  “That’s right.” Lauren pulled out her compact. “I held this under his nose.” She showed it to Mitch.

  Mitch glanced past her into the motel room. Lauren followed his gaze. One of the paramedics shook his h
ead at Mitch as they covered the body.

  “It looks like you were too late,” Mitch told her.

  “I couldn’t see a smudge from his breath on the mirror,” she admitted.

  She’d met the detective last month, when one of her regular customers had been murdered. He was new to town, and after the case he’d stopped in at the café a few times to grab a coffee or one of her cupcakes.

  Whenever she saw him, there seemed to be an awareness between them but she wasn’t sure if it was all on her side, or if he felt it, too.

  Today though, there didn’t seem to be a frisson of anything. He exuded pure professionalism.

  Brandon explained to Mitch that Todd had been covering the eateries in Gold Leaf Valley for his online column.

  “He wanted to expand into the regions surrounding Sacramento,” he told Mitch earnestly. “And the newspaper agreed to us staying here instead of going home to Sacramento every night.”

  “And you accompanied him?” Mitch asked.

  “Yeah. It was fun,” Brandon replied. “Afterward, we compared notes, and then Todd went back to his room—” he pointed at the open motel room door “—to write a review and post it online. But he was waiting to sample the pastries from Lauren’s café—” he gestured to her and Annie “—before he finished writing that review.”

  “So where were you this morning?” Mitch asked him.

  “We were supposed to visit Lauren’s café again this morning around ten.” Brandon gave her a sidelong look. “But then Todd said he had to do something else this morning, and to meet him at the café at noon.”

  “Why had his plans changed?” Mitch asked, with an assessing glance at Brandon.

  “I have no idea.” Brandon shrugged.

  “You weren’t curious?” Mitch probed.

  “Yeah.” Brandon fidgeted. “But I’ve learned not to question Todd when he changes his schedule. He doesn’t like being challenged.”

  “Did you enjoy working for him?” Mitch asked.

  “Overall, yes,” Brandon replied. “It’s a good way to learn the ropes of being a food critic, and he’s taught me a lot. Now I look at food in a different way, and I’m more aware of the taste and texture.”

  “And you said you were going to revisit Lauren’s café today?” Mitch waited for his reply.

  “Yeah. We went there yesterday and had coffee and cupcakes – which were awesome. But Todd really wanted to taste Ed’s pastries and they’d sold out.”

  “So I told Todd to come by this morning around ten o’clock, so he wouldn’t miss out,” Lauren interrupted. Instantly she felt guilty for doing so when the full force of Mitch’s scrutiny landed on her. “But when he didn’t arrive, I wondered if something was wrong, so I came by with some pastries I’d put aside for him,” she rushed on. “And when I saw Todd – I dropped them.” She pointed to the inside of the motel room, where the brown paper package lay near the heavy brass lamp.

  “Annie came with you?” He gestured to the silent feline.

  “Yes. I thought she might enjoy the walk,” Lauren replied.

  Annie looked up at Mitch with interested green eyes, but didn’t speak. Was that because Mitch wasn’t one of Annie’s favorite customers – yet – or because she was overwhelmed by the situation?

  “Did anyone see you?” he asked.

  Lauren frowned, but told him about her passing conversation with the young mother and toddler, and asking Paul at the motel office for Todd’s room number.

  “That’s all I need for now,” Mitch told both of them. “I know where to find Lauren.” He turned to Brandon. “But where can I find you? Will you be staying here tonight or going back to Sacramento?”

  “I have no idea.” Brandon ran a hand through his already slightly mussed hair. “I guess I’ll have to call the office and find out what they want me to do.” His eyes lit up. “Maybe I’ll get to take over Todd’s column!” After a second, he grimaced. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “It’s understandable,” Mitch replied.

  “So what killed him?” Brandon asked. “The brass lamp?”

  “We won’t know until we investigate the crime scene,” Mitch replied brusquely. “And speaking of which, I need to examine it right now. The room will be cordoned off until further notice, so I hope you don’t have any belongings in there.” He raised an eyebrow at Brandon.

  “Nope.” Brandon shook his head.

  “Good. If you’ll excuse me.” Mitch nodded at Lauren, then Brandon, before entering the motel room.

  “I guess I’ll go back to the café,” Lauren said.

  “Yeah.” Brandon shifted awkwardly. “I’d better call the office and tell them what’s happened.”

  Lauren and Annie headed back to the café, their mood somber. Annie barely glanced around her at the trees, shrubs, and passersby as they returned.

  “I’m sorry this happened, Annie,” Lauren murmured as they neared the Norwegian Forest Café. The sight of the pale lemon Victorian-style shop attached to her cottage always lifted her heart, and this time was no different, although sadness tempered her reaction. Todd Fane hadn’t seemed like a nice man, but had he deserved to die?

  “Brrp,” Annie said in a subdued tone.

  “Do you want to take the rest of the day off?” Lauren asked as they entered the café. “You could play with your toys inside the cottage.”

  Lauren bent down to unbuckle the harness. Annie stared at her with wide green eyes in a considering manner.

  “Brrt,” she eventually uttered.

  “Okay.” Lauren stroked her silky soft gray fur, then stood. “How about some lunch as well?”

  “Brrt,” Annie replied in a cheerier tone.

  They crossed the café. Lauren unlocked the private hall door, walked along the passageway, and into the cottage. She gave Annie a generous helping of chicken in gravy, then blew her a kiss.

  “I’ll see you when we close this afternoon.”

  “Brrp,” Annie replied around a mouthful of food.

  “What happened?” Zoe accosted her as soon as Lauren re-entered the café. “Did you give him the pastries?”

  “I’ll tell you in the kitchen.” Lauren scanned the room. Most of the tables were taken, but no one seemed in need of assistance.

  “What did Todd say? Did he love them? You were gone awhile ...” Zoe’s voice trailed off as her cousin hustled her into the kitchen. “Oh, he didn’t love them, did he?”

  “Todd Fane is dead.” Lauren quickly told her what had happened.

  “Oh no!” Zoe clapped a hand over her mouth. “Are you okay?” She looked at Lauren in concern.

  “Yes – or I will be.” Lauren wrinkled her brow. “I just hope Annie is.”

  “It’s so strange that Annie meowed like that, when you knocked on his motel room door,” Zoe mused. “Do you think she must have sensed that he was dead or that something was wrong?”

  “She must have.” Lauren nodded. “She’s hardly ever uttered a regular meow.”

  “And what about Mitch?” Zoe eyed her cousin knowingly. “What did he look like? Did he mention why he hasn’t been here for coffee and cupcakes lately?”

  “No.” And right now, Lauren didn’t want to think about that.

  “I’m sure he’s still into you,” Zoe reassured her. “But he probably needed his mind on the job, asking you and Brandon questions, and then having to look at the – at Todd.”

  “Probably,” Lauren echoed, telling herself not to even think about Mitch right now. She had more pressing issues, such as making sure Annie was okay.

  “I bet knitting club on Friday night will cheer up Annie,” Zoe said. “You know how she adores Mrs. Finch.”

  “I do.” Lauren allowed herself a smile. Mrs. Finch was one of their regular customers, and one of Annie’s favorites. The elderly lady lived nearby and usually visited every day, weather and health permitting.

  “Has Mrs. Finch been in today?” Lauren asked.

  “No.” Zoe shook
her head. “If she doesn’t visit this afternoon, maybe we should check on her.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lauren and Zoe re-entered the café. Luckily, nobody looked like they needed attention.

  Nearly all of Ed’s pastries had sold. Lauren fleetingly thought of the pastries she’d taken over to the motel, an icky feeling roiling in her stomach, then told herself to stop it.

  “What is it?” Zoe laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Oh! Hi, Gary.” She switched her attention to Cindy’s boss standing at the counter.

  Lauren had been so preoccupied with her thoughts she hadn’t even realized he’d entered.

  “Hi, girls.” Gary smiled at them. In his early forties, he had pleasant features and short, wavy russet hair. “Where’s Annie?” He looked around the café.

  “She’s having the rest of the day off,” Lauren replied. “We visited Todd—”

  “Don’t mention his name to me.” Gary’s demeanor changed instantly. He clenched his fists. “I’m not sorry he’s dead, after what he tried with Cindy.”

  “How do you know that?” Lauren stared at him. It wasn’t even two hours since she and Annie had been at the motel.

  “It’s all around town. I guess bad news travels just as fast as good news.”

  “Huh.” Zoe tapped her cheek.

  “So Cindy told you what happened?” Lauren confirmed.

  “This morning.” He nodded. “She came in for her shift, and I could see something was troubling her. When she told me—” a muscle ticked in his jaw “—I was so angry. She should have come to me yesterday when it happened. I would have taken care of that – that – predator.”

  Lauren and Zoe glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised slightly.

  “But you didn’t – did you?” Zoe blurted out. Instantly, she looked as if she could take back the question.

  “No.” He sounded regretful. “One of my kitchen staff didn’t show up this morning so I had to do some prep work until I could get someone else to cover for him. I was just about to head over to the motel and give that – food critic – a piece of my mind when I heard that someone had killed him.”

  “Who told you?” Lauren asked.

  “I don’t know who the source was.” He shrugged. “Cindy came into the kitchen and told me a customer had just told her that.”