“Calm down,” replied Velma. “Even if it does turn out to be food poisoning and the police can prove that it’s the food you had prepared for Benny, it’s still only an accident. An unfortunate accident.”
Kitty nodded but she wasn’t assuaged. This was more than just an unfortunate accident. Rich Evan was dead and there was a good chance she had killed him. “I have to go, Velma.” There was a small space across from the house and she managed to parallel park. “I’m at the Rabinowitz’s.”
Mr. and Mrs. Rabinowitz were all comforting hands and words of sympathy. They made Kitty sit down on the sofa in the living room and tell them all about it.
By the time she pulled free and fed their plump little Pekingese, Goldie, her brunch, Goldie Lox and the Three Bears, Kitty was running late once again.
Benny was going to be her next stop, though it was out of the way. She wondered how the little pup was doing without his master.
Pulling up to the pitch-roofed gatehouse of the decidedly un-Hollywood-like Malibu Colony entry, Kitty wondered whether the guard would even allow her to enter, given what had occurred the day before. But, after painting her with a somewhat odd and questioning look, he let her pass without a word.
Kitty sighed with relief. Now if only Consuelo, who was bound to be up at the beach house, would just not start screaming at the top of her lungs the minute she arrived, point her finger and brand her a murderess, this day might not turn out so badly.
The Evan home was located on Malibu Colony Road. A yellow Ferrari was at the edge of the driveway. Kitty wondered whom it belonged to. It wasn’t Mr. Evan’s. The driver’s side window was open and a cigarette smoldered in the ashtray.
Consuelo was in the kitchen sweeping up. One hand held a green-handled, nylon bristled broom and the other a gray metal dustpan. Kitty was gladdened to see this left no hand free for a lethal weapon, pointed or otherwise.
The housekeeper looked up as Kitty gingerly crossed the kitchen threshold. “Oh, it’s you.”
Kitty said hello. “I brought Benny some food. I thought he might need it.” She looked about. “Where is he?”
“I’m only sweeping up. Like always. It’s impossible to keep the sand out of this house. Stupid to live at the beach, if you ask me.”
Kitty nodded obligingly. She set Benny’s meal on the granite-topped island. “Have you seen Benny, Consuelo? I don’t want his food getting cold.”
Consuelo rolled her eyes. “That puppy is around somewhere. Probably following Mr. Danson about.”
“Mr. Danson?”
“Mr. Danson is Mr. Evan’s friend.” Consuelo looked briefly at Kitty then returned to her sweeping.
The woman sure didn’t seem too shook up today about Mr. Evan’s passing. It briefly crossed Kitty’s mind that Consuelo herself might have done her employer in. The way she wielded that knife, Kitty wouldn’t put it past her. Consuelo was as volatile as a jug of nitro.
And Kitty sure wouldn’t turn her back on the woman again, especially in a room full of cutlery. Still, what motive might Consuelo have had for murdering her employer? Might he have provoked her?
Recipe:
Take one volatile Mexican with a flair for knife wielding.
Add one crazed and sometimes obnoxious rock star.
Stir briskly.
Result:
One less rock star?
Kitty called softly to Benny. He wasn’t in the media room or out on the back patio watching the surf, which she knew he was fond of doing. Benny often took his meals out on the redwood deck. The doors were open. Kitty helped herself to a breath full of luscious, life affirming sea air. It was another bright, sunny day in sunny southern California.
Too bad Rich Evan wasn’t around to enjoy it.
Kitty followed the sound of rustling papers and found a tall, gaunt looking man with an unruly head of brown hair, riffling through the desk in Mr. Evan’s office. Benny was at the man’s feet. The puppy ran to Kitty and she bent down to pet him.
The man dropped the papers and glared at her. “Who are you?”
“I-I’m Katherine Karlyle. I brought Benny his food.”
The tall man pushed the desk drawer shut, slowly and thoughtfully. His hard green eyes seemed to penetrate her skin. “Fine. Just leave it in the kitchen, will you. I’ll take it with me when I leave.”
Kitty began to retreat then stopped at the door. “But I’m afraid his meal will get cold. He really ought to eat now.”
The man’s eyebrows pinched together. He snapped his fingers and his dour countenance brightened considerably. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re that chef girl that Rich recently hired to cook for his doggy.”
Kitty nodded.
The man came out from behind the desk and introduced himself. “I’m Fang Danson.”
“Katherine Karlyle. Everybody calls me Kitty though.”
“How appropriate.” Rich’s eyes darkened. “I hear from the police that it might have been your cooking that did old Rich in.”
Kitty didn’t know what to say. After all, he could be right.
“Look, I was going to take Benny home with me. Rich would have wanted it, I’m sure.” He bent low and ruffled the pup’s coat. “Why don’t you go feed Benny and then we’ll be off.”
After the girl and the dog left, Fang returned to his friend’s desk. He’d made a pretty good search of it and turned up nothing. Nothing but a baggy containing about an ounce of hash. He’d stuffed that in his pocket. What the hell. It was better than leaving empty-handed.
Sitting in Rich’s chair, he dialed a number from memory. “Yeah, this is Danson. I’m at Rich’s house and there’s nothing here. Nothing that I can find anyway. I thought you told me he had the papers?”
The voice on the other end told him not to worry.
“That’s easy for you to say.” Fang dropped the phone in its cradle.
He found the girl sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, Benny between her legs, scarfing up something that smelled awfully good. Looked good, too. So did that cozy spot between the girl’s legs. She was a looker, despite the cook’s getup.
She glanced up as he came into the room. Fang smiled. What had she said her name was? Katherine? Cat? Kitty, that was it. “He looks happy.” Fang showed his teeth.
Benny’s tail waggled back and forth as he ate. “Yes. Still, I feel terrible. I mean, what if the food I prepared yesterday was bad somehow? It was meant for him. Benny could be dead right now,” she said softly. “And poor Mr. Evan. . .” Her voice trailed off.
Fang dropped to his knees beside the girl and laid a comforting arm over her shoulder. “Don’t you worry none. It’s not your fault, Kitty. Rich, he had a good run of it.” She was looking at him now. There was hope in those eyes. “The way I hear it, he went without any pain. A fella can’t ask for much more than that.”
She was surprised to find she was crying again. Fang grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her. “Sorry,” she said.
Fang helped the shaken girl to her feet. “Listen, Benny needs you. And I can see he likes you. You take good care of him,” Fang said smoothly. “Benny’s going to be staying with me now. I want you to continue cooking for him.”
“You do?” Her eyes cleared a little.
“Absolutely. Benny needs you.” Fang stared into her light blue eyes. “I need you. I’ve never had a dog before. I wouldn’t begin to know what to feed him. I’d probably go out and buy some bag of kibble or something.”
Kitty looked aghast. She couldn’t help herself.
“You see?”
“Well—” She did love Benny, but seeing the little pup only served to remind her of Rich Evan’s death and how close Benny himself might have come to being killed by her hand; accidental though it might be. She was beginning to wonder if this whole pet gourmet business was a mistake. Maybe she should give it up altogether?
“For Benny’s sake?”
Benny had finished eating and was barking to be let out. Consuelo, who’d been dawdling over a few dirty glasses in the sink, sent him on his way.
Maybe, Kitty thought, if she helped take care of Benny, it would atone some little bit for whatever responsibility she might have had in his owner’s death. “Okay. But I won’t charge you. I can’t take any money for it. This is on me.”
“We’ll worry about that later.” Fang scratched out his address on the back of one of Kitty’s business cards. Kitty promised to bring Benny his dinner later that same day.
Making her way back to the station wagon, Kitty spotted Fang Danson with his arms around a knockout of a young woman in a blue leotard and jogging shoes. Her hair was long, flowing and naturally blonde. Kitty had always wanted hair like that. Heck, she’d always wanted thighs like that. The woman had the looks of a Hollywood starlet.
Fang released the young woman and drove off.
Consuelo was emptying her dustbin in the trashcan along the side of the garage.
Kitty approached her. Hands open. “Who was that woman?”
“What woman?” Consuelo’s eyes were suspicious and wary.
“The one in the drive that Mr. Danson was talking to.”
Consuelo practically growled. “That was Mrs. Evan.”
“Mrs. Evan?”
“Yes, the former Mrs. Evan. Angela Evan. Mr. Evan, he divorced her.” She shook her head. “I was happy. I did not like that woman.”
“What do you suppose she was doing here?”
“She lives here in the Colony also.” Consuelo left Kitty standing there and retreated to the house.
Benny was running around the yard. Kitty went to him and picked him up in her arms. “Say, little guy. I thought Mr. Danson was supposed to be taking you?” She frowned. Danson was long gone. She scratched Benny’s tummy. “Looks like he forgot.” What should she do? She didn’t really want to leave the helpless puppy at Mr. Evan’s house, not in the care of Consuelo. “I guess you’ll have to come with me.”
Kitty carried Benny to the car and told him he could ride shotgun. “You can be my assistant for the rest of the day.”
Heading back up through the Colony towards Pacific Coast Highway, Kitty noticed Mrs. Evan walking briskly on the side of the street. Her arms swung side to side like a pro’s. One hand clutched a cellphone.
Kitty pulled up alongside.
The blonde stopped. There wasn’t a drop of sweat on her. Up close now, Kitty looked her up and down. There wasn’t so much as an ounce of fat on her either, except for those regions men found irresistible.
“Can I help you?” Mrs. Evan seemed to look at Kitty’s old car and immediately put her in her place. The driver of this car was ‘the help’ not a peer. The blonde’s chest rose and fell confidently and serenely.
Kitty was trying awfully hard not to hate her. “Mrs. Evan?”
“What do you want?” The woman’s eyes were teal colored and marble hard.
Kitty took the woman’s reply for a yes. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry to hear about your ex-husband’s death.”
Mrs. Evan half-smiled. “Richie is my husband—was my husband.” Her eyes darted up to the distant Malibu hills. “Yes, it’s a shame. Now, if you don’t mind, I really must be going.”
“Yes, of course,” Kitty said. Benny took this moment to stick his head out the window and yap.
“What are you doing with that dog?” demanded Mrs. Evan.
“This is Benny, Mr. Evan’s dog.”
The blonde frowned. “I know what the thing is.” Benny leaned out the window and she awkwardly patted his snout. Her fingers came back gooey. She frowned, then wiped her hand on the side of her leg, leaving a long silvery streak, like a snail’s trail, which she tried unsuccessfully to rub out. “What are you doing with him?”
Kitty explained.
The more she explained the more Mrs. Evan’s eyes narrowed and her soft body stiffened. “You’re the chef Richie hired.”
“That’s right. Katherine Karlyle.” She reached for her purse, which was on the floorboards. She fished about. “I’ve got some cards here someplace.”
“That really isn’t necessary. I am not a pet person.”
Kitty didn’t think the woman was much of a people person either.
“The way I hear it, it was your cooking that killed Richie. Maybe I should be thanking you. My dear husband was a real bastard.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Serves him right being poisoned to death eating dog food.”
A stunning young brunette in salmon-colored sweatpants and a matching bikini top jogged up and patted Mrs. Evan’s arm. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” said Mrs. Evan. She turned her back on Kitty and Benny and went running off with her girlfriend.
“Be grateful you’re not going home with that woman, little guy.” Benny barked. Kitty took this as the dog’s way of expressing his agreement.