Feline Fatale Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “[A] fabulous series.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Praise for the Kendra Ballantyne, PetSitter Mysteries

  Howl Deadly

  “Mystery readers and animal lovers alike will find much to enjoy in this mystery series. The mystery is tightly plotted and a bit of a departure this time around, making the story feel fresh while we follow Kendra, who always has the animals’ best interests at heart.”

  —CA Reviews

  “Fans will enjoy Kendra’s latest who-done-it as her energy, élan, and love of animals (as well as Dante) make for an appealing investigative story.”

  —The Mystery Gazette

  Never Say Sty

  “Ms. Johnston continues to make Kendra Ballantyne a likeable character with a sense of humor … Perfect in today’s world … Never Say Sty is well thought out and an enjoyable read.”

  —My Shelf

  “The pacing is solid, the dialogue crisp … Animal lovers will adore this series for the mystery as well as the animals.”

  —CA Reviews

  Double Dog Dare

  “An incredible writer who creates believable, intelligent characters. Double Dog Dare has a fun-filled, suspenseful story line that contains intrigue, mystery, murder, lots and lots of animals, and humor. Ms. Johnston’s wit, pacing, and dialogue make this cozy entry into the PetSitter series a surefire winner.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “[A] fast and fun read.”

  —New Mystery Reader

  The Fright of the Iguana

  “Wonderful … I always enjoy the petsitting antics in this series. The author has done a great job of making the reader care about the animals. Plus their personalities really shine through. The Southern California [setting] is enjoyable as well.”

  —Mystery Lovers Corner

  Meow Is for Murder

  “A humorous, cleverly constructed murder mystery … Intelligent … with an eccentric cast that infuses the plot with a sense of jocularity and pets that readers would love to adopt.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Kendra is such a fun … likeable character. [There’s] plenty of humor along with a well-plotted cozy mystery.”

  —Mystery Lovers Corner

  Fine-Feathered Death

  “A wonderful new addition to the ranks of amateur detectives … The well-timed humor … sets it above the current crowded crop of cozy mystery series. Johnston’s ability to blend pet love, mystery, and romance into one well-wrapped package makes this a summer treat for mystery and pet lovers alike.”

  —Front Street Reviews

  “Exciting … Johnston is a creative storyteller who not only writes a fascinating mystery but also creates a deep character study.”

  —Books ’n’ Bytes

  “A fast-paced who-done-it … Kendra is a fun character, and her supporting friends and assorted critters make an enjoyable read.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “You’ll laugh out loud! Don’t read it when you have to be quiet!” —Mystery Lovers Corner

  Nothing to Fear but Ferrets

  “Linda O. Johnston has a definite talent for infusing humor in just the right places … Pet lovers and amateur-sleuth fans will find this series deserving of an award as well as a place on the bestseller lists.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Sit, Stay, Slay

  “Very funny and exciting … Worthy of an award nomination … The romance in this novel adds spice to a very clever crime thriller.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A brilliantly entertaining new puppy caper, a doggie-filled who-done-it … Johnston’s novel is a real pedigree!”

  —Dorothy Cannell

  “Petsitter sleuth Kendra Ballantyne is up to her snake-draped neck in peril in Linda O. Johnston’s hilarious debut mystery Sit, Stay, Slay. Witty, wry, and highly entertaining.”

  —Carolyn Hart

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Linda O. Johnston

  SIT, STAY, SLAY

  NOTHING TO FEAR BUT FERRETS

  FINE-FEATHERED DEATH

  MEOW IS FOR MURDER

  THE FRIGHT OF THE IGUANA

  DOUBLE DOG DARE

  NEVER SAY STY

  HOWL DEADLY

  FELINE FATALE

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  FELINE FATALE

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2010

  Copyright © 2010 by Linda O. Johnston.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18861-3

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Pu
blishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Donna Hollingsworth of Holly Sams, a delightful breeder of champion Samoyeds and a petsitter—and, especially, a dog show aficionado and expert who gave unstinting information about how breeders view the showing of the show-quality pups from their litters. If Linda nevertheless misstated anything, please chalk it up to poetic license; it’s her bad, not Donna’s.

  Thanks, too, to Linda’s delightful editor, Michelle Vega, for all she has done to help keep Kendra’s series moving smoothly, and to her agent, Paige Wheeler, for all the excellent help she has given to her career. Linda would also like to particularly thank both of them, and all the appropriate folks at Berkley Prime Crime, for the opportunity to write the upcoming spin-off series about Lauren Vancouver, pet rescuer! Kendra reserves judgment about the new series, but she likes Lauren enough to wish her the best—especially if she, too, becomes a murder magnet.

  And to Lexie and Mystie, Linda’s current Cavalier King Charles spaniels. Mystie’s penchant for elusiveness helped Linda describe the proclivities of Lady Cuddles, the escape-artist kitty in Feline Fatale. And, of course, kudos also to Kendra’s Lexie.

  And, as always, to Linda’s husband, Fred.

  Kendra Ballantyne/Linda O. Johnston

  Chapter One

  “WHO ARE YOU?”

  The woman who demanded my identity blocked my path up the narrow stairway. Her print pull-on pants seemed snug for her curvaceous figure, although her shocking pink knit shirt was loose enough to allow her to cross her arms as she glared down at me through black-rimmed glasses.

  She’d appeared quite suddenly through the door to the third floor, exactly where I was heading. She startled me enough to cause me to grab the stair rail with one hand and my heart with the other as my large bag banged against my hip.

  “Er … I’m Kendra Ballantyne,” I said. “I’m a petsitter.” Among other things. “One of your residents who does a lot of animal care around here asked me to take over while she’s away for the weekend. Wanda Villareal. Do you know her?”

  It was nine in the morning. We were in the rearmost of several residential structures at the Brigadoon condominium complex, in Burbank, California. Wanda was a friend and fellow member of the Pet Sitters Club of SoCal. Even more, she was the girlfriend of my dearest friend in the world, Darryl Nestler—owner of the Doggy Indulgence Day Resort in Studio City.

  They were off for a romantic long weekend, so of course I’d agreed to step in and help Wanda out.

  “Yes, I know her.” The woman’s chilly voice and sneering smile made it clear she wasn’t one of Wanda’s closest acquaintances. “Are you saying you’re here to take care of some residents’ pets today?”

  I nodded. “That’s right. Wanda’s caring for pets in four of the condos here. She got the okay from the owners for me to help out this weekend, and gave me the keys. And a letter of introduction.” And why I was telling this nasty piece of work anything, without her giving any indication she had authority to ask me questions, I didn’t know.

  Okay, yes, I did. It could save me a lot of time and aggravation if she simply let me go on my way, instead of keeping me standing there in the stairway.

  But I didn’t hold out much hope for her sudden cooperation.

  “Let me see that letter,” she ordered.

  “Sure.” I ignored an urge to ram it between her large, too-white teeth. “But let’s go upstairs into the hallway, where there’ll be more light.”

  She didn’t immediately move. I waited, feigning patience. Worst case, I’d resort to returning to the second floor and finding an alternate staircase. But I suspected this unpleasant human obstacle would impede my entry anywhere.

  “All right,” she eventually conceded, not sounding thrilled. “This way.” She opened the door she’d emerged through, then glared at me, shooing me past her with her hand.

  I considered spitting on it, but decided not to be so petty. After all, if I were in her position, living in a condominium complex where some stranger appeared and claimed to have a valid reason for strolling the stairway, maybe I’d be equally nasty till proof was provided. But I liked to think I’d at least pretend cordiality until the truth was established, one way or the other.

  We stopped in a wide hallway, well-lit through roomy windows along one wall that revealed a small balcony. Along the other wall were several doors bearing numbers starting with three. Two doors were decorated with woven wreaths of tree branches trimmed with artificial, bright-colored flowers. Another was garnished with a gold and purple pennant extolling the Los Angeles Lakers.

  I reached into a pocket of my roomy purse and drew out the letter Wanda had left with me. I’d reviewed it, of course, to ensure it appeared legitimate, legally speaking. After all, in addition to being a petsitter, I’m also an attorney. This wasn’t a binding kind of document, though. It was short and lacked substance, basically stating what I’d already said: Wanda was a resident and petsitter at Brigadoon, and she had delegated to me her authority to care for some owners’ animals this weekend. I also handed over one of my petsitting business cards.

  “Which units?” barked the bitch, handing back the letter.

  I wasn’t about to tell her. Sure, I was a visitor with limited reason to be there. But her attempts at intimidation didn’t exactly provide unquestionable credentials for her presence. What if she, too, was a stranger to Brigadoon and simply wanted to know which residents were away, for nefarious reasons of her own?

  “Sorry,” I said as pleasantly as I could muster. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “That’s unacceptable,” she shouted so loudly that the walls around us seemed to tremble. Could she be causing an earthquake? This was, after all, Southern California.

  But, no, someone turned a corner from what I assumed was the elevator corridor, shoving a mini shopping cart along the brown textured carpeting. It most likely caused the vibration, not Ms. Obnoxious’s loud voice. The person holding the handle was a man, maybe mid-forties, with a receding hairline and bulky build. The metal cart held several large sacks. He’d obviously heard the woman’s bellow, since he barreled down the hallway toward us.

  “Everything all right, Margaret?” he asked as he drew near.

  “Not at all, James,” she responded. “Wanda Villareal supposedly gave this woman”—she shot her evil eyes toward me—“keys and permission to come in to take care of pets this weekend.” She spat out the word “pets” as if she referred to the vilest of animal excretions instead of some innocent creatures who might deposit them.

  Which gave me an indication of why she was so nasty.

  He glanced quizzically toward me beneath brown brows that dipped sharply at the sides.

  “Hi.” I put perkiness into my tone. Would he be an ally or an enemy? And why, in this perfectly innocuous situation, should I even have to worry about such things? “I’m Kendra Ballantyne, petsitter.” I handed him a card, too.

  “Good to meet you, Kendra.” His smile seemed welcoming, and I relaxed a little. “Wanda has mentioned you. I’m James Jerome. I live down the hall.” He gestured in front of him. “Wanda watched my guinea pigs recently, when I went out of town.”

  Beside me, I saw the woman he’d identified as Margaret shudder a lot more than the hallway had. “Guinea pigs,” she repeated with utter scorn. “Pretty soon I’ll get enough support from our association board and other residents to ban rodents from our lovely condominiums. What if your creatures ever get out of your unit?” Her face screwed up into such a creepy look of contempt that I considered taking my cell phone from my purse and snapping a picture. I could use it to scare off hawks from my clients’ homes to ensure that no small pet was swept away.

 
A nearby door opened, and a man and woman walked into the hall.

  “If you had your way, Margaret Shiler,” James said with equal disdain, “you’d have all pets banned from our complex. Pets have been allowed since Brigadoon opened seven years ago. There are rules, and all responsible pet owners follow them. If you didn’t like how things were here, you shouldn’t have bought a unit.”

  “Except for allowing animals”—again, that contemptuous tone—“this place is utterly charming. That’s why I ran for the board, so I can help fix what’s broken here. That damned, antiquated pets-permitted policy—I’ll be lobbying even more strongly against it, starting at our next board meeting.” She let her eyes bore into mine once more. “And if that bothers your dear friend Wanda, tough luck. The woman is obviously not acting in the association’s best interests. Look at how she hands over keys and her responsibility to a total stranger.”

  Meaning me. I opened my mouth to protest but was immediately interrupted.

  “What’s going on, Margaret?” This from the woman who’d emerged through the now-closed door. She was tall and slender, with grooves beside her mouth that suggested she scowled a lot.

  “We have an unwelcome visitor.” Margaret proceeded to introduce me and state my reason for being there.

  “She’s very welcome,” contradicted James, earning a small smile of relief from me. At least I had someone here who wasn’t ready to toss me out of one of the nearby windows.

  “Ruth is considering running for the next opening on the condo association board,” said the other man, who joined us. He gestured toward the woman who had asked about me, presumably Ruth. He had a large, upswept mane of salt-and-pepper hair above squinting blue eyes. “She feels nearly as strongly about pets around here as you do, Margaret.”