Mint Cookie Murder (11 page)

Philby chose not to accompany us. I was okay with that. I didn't want anything to happen to the fur ball. Huh. First I was missing him. Now I was worried about him. He really was my cat.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, but I knew every inch of my house by heart. I'd memorized it in the dark the first week I moved in because that's what every spy does. It took a couple of days to get everything down just so. Let's just say old habits are hard to break.

We moved toward the entrance to the kitchen and living room. Riley went left, into the kitchen, and I checked the living room. The front door was open. I quietly closed it and checked behind the TV, the Dora the Explorer sheets that were my curtains, and the couch. No one was there.

The light came on, flooding the room, and I squinted to see Riley there.

"No one's here," he said. "But the door to the garage and then to the backyard is open."

I pointed at the front door. "He came in through here. Did he leave anything behind?"

Riley shook his head. "I doubt it. He got through three sets of double deadbolt locks without us noticing. This guy is good."

I installed the double deadbolts the day I moved in. Sure it was a pain, but they were far more effective than the original push button locks. Well, they were until tonight.

To make sure the intruder was gone, Riley swept the garage, basement and bathroom. He found nothing. I wasn't surprised. If Bobb was as good as they said, the house was clean.

"Why didn't he kill you?" Riley asked as we sat down on the couch. Philby jumped up between us and demanded adoration for waking me up.

"You sound disappointed," I answered as I scratched the cat between the ears.

"This is the third time. He tried to kill you at the grocery store, but failed. He didn't even try tonight. Or that first time in your yard. This doesn't make sense."

"Would it make you feel better if I just committed suicide so you could go home?" I asked.

"That's not what I meant." Riley offered a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm just in work mode."

I thought about saying something about how weird it was that he was in work mode in his pajamas, on my couch. And that I'd seen him naked a few minutes ago. I was starting to feel a little like a Bond girl. I kind of wished my pajamas were a negligee and my moccasin slippers were marabou.

I looked at the clock and stood up. "Well it's 3:00 in the morning. I can't think this early. I'm heading to bed."

Riley nodded. "I think I'll just stay up in case he tries to come back."

I said nothing as I made my way back to bed. Philby had decided to stay with Riley so I slid beneath the covers alone.

That was a strange thought. Since when did I feel bad about getting into bed alone? Rex's kiss loomed large in my brain, and then I thought of Riley's yummy body. Who was I kidding? No one wanted to be alone. Hell, even Philby, while it would be like sleeping with a hairy soccer ball, would be an improvement.

Riley's being here was a problem. I couldn't ignore my attraction to him. When he was around I forgot about Rex. And while I didn't know where this was going with the hottie detective, it was further along than my relationship with Riley.

Or was it? I had history with Riley. Years of working together in a job I loved. We'd been through a lot together. But this attraction was new. Before, I'd thought of Riley as my boss. I'd worked with him for years and never felt this way until now. Why was that? What was behind my interest in him?

Well whatever it was, I'd have to get him out of my brain. At least for tonight. If I was going to survive this whole Bobb thing, I'd need some sleep. Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing until I was out.

*   *   *

This time I awoke to sun filtering through the shades and the divine smell of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen. I took a quick shower, dressed, and found Riley frying breakfast under Philby's close supervision.

"Have you been up all night?" I asked. Riley was showered and dressed in jeans and a navy sweater.

He nodded. "Yes. And I've made breakfast." He scooped the eggs and bacon onto a plate and slid them in my direction.

"Nice! And fried food, even." I picked up a slice of bacon. "I'm converting you to the Dark Side. You're welcome."

"It's turkey bacon and egg whites." Riley answered as he started digging in to his own plate. "And fresh squeezed orange juice." He passed me a glass.

I ate it anyway. And it was delicious. I even volunteered to do the dishes. Riley gave Philby the scraps, and he belched happily as he devoured the bits of egg and bacon.

"So," I said as I finished wiping down the counter. "Any ideas on earlier this morning?"

Riley frowned. "Nothing. I called the agency first thing to talk to our profiler about Bobb."

Philby hissed so hard he fell backward off the breakfast bar. He landed on his back and rolled around for a few seconds until he could get back on his feet. We politely acted like we hadn't seen it.

"And?" I asked.

"They don't think it's…" Riley looked at the cat, "…who we think it is."

"It's someone impersonating…um, the assassin?"

Riley nodded. "That's what they think."

"Okay…" I started pacing. "Someone impersonates me a week before Lenny—an enemy spy I've never met, by the way—escapes from the supermax prison in Colorado and dies on my front porch. Then someone impersonates a well-known assassin who no one has ever seen before. This imposter tells me he is the…other guy." Avoiding saying
Bobb
around the cat was not going to be easy.

"This fake assassin—" I shot a glance at Philby, who was lying on his side on the floor, panting. "—makes contact with me to establish his identity as someone else, makes a lame attempt in the grocery store to make it look like he's trying to kill me, but you end up shooting him. Then he breaks in here and does…what?"

"It sounds like that's what's going on." Riley shrugged. "I'd sent a blood sample from the grocery store to the lab at Langley, but they couldn't find any match."

"You didn't tell me that." I made a face.

"It's standard procedure," he said.

"If he's injured, maybe he went to the hospital?" Why didn't I think of that before now? Seriously, I was losing my touch.

"I checked all the hospitals. No one came in with a gunshot wound. This guy repaired it himself," Riley said. "I don't know where I hit him, either. I might've just grazed him."

I frowned. "That doesn't sound like you." Riley was a crack shot. We all were. We'd be dead if we weren't.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. It makes no sense for the assassin to keep approaching you and failing. If he wanted to scare you, he'd realize it wasn't working."

A strange sound caught my attention. It sounded like an old man coughing.

"What's wrong with Philby?" Riley asked as he knelt down beside the cat that was still on his side but now struggling to breathe.

I joined him. The cat's eyes had gone glassy, and he began to vomit something dark blue. Funny—that didn't look like a hairball. Philby's eyes rolled back into his head, and he began shaking violently.

"Philby?" I asked. "What's wrong with Philby?"

Riley got down on his knees and looked at the animal that suddenly stopped seizing and started foaming at the mouth. This was something we'd seen before—but with people. It was poison.

Without a word, Riley scooped the cat up and ran for the car. I just had time to grab my purse and lock the front door before I got into the SUV as it was rolling backward toward the street. I called the vet while Riley drove. We were there in record time.

We raced into the vet clinic, and Dr. Rye hurried us to a back room. He gave Philby a shot of something and some oxygen. Soon the tiny room was filled with the vet equivalent of cat nurses, before one shooed Riley and me off to a waiting room.

"Besides the bacon and eggs, what did Philby eat this morning?" I asked Riley as a thought slowly turned in my mind.

Riley ran a hand through his hair. "He had some food left over from last night."

"That's what the bastard did when he broke in," I said. "He broke in to poison Philby!"

Riley looked at me. "Philby hisses when he hears the name Bobb. I guess in the back of my mind I thought there was a connection, but until now I never realized it was a real threat!"

"That's what Bobb was looking for in my backyard!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the vestibule. "He was looking for Philby!"

We sat in stunned silence for a moment. How did we miss that?

"He wasn't after you," Riley said. "He was after the cat all along."

Dr. Rye came down the hall toward us, wiping his hands on a towel.

"How is he?" I jumped to my feet.

"He's better. A few minutes ago I thought we'd lost him. But then I heard you shouting, and the cat started hissing and seemed okay. It's the damnedest thing."

Dr. Rye told us that he wanted to keep Philby overnight for observation. I wasn't sure. If Bobb was after the animal, he wouldn't be safe here. But then, maybe Bobb thought he'd killed the cat, so maybe it was all over? I agreed to have the vet keep my pet.

"So Bobb thinks that he killed the cat," Riley said after I mentioned what I'd been thinking while we were in the lobby. "And you think he'll just go away?"

"I think it's an opportunity," I answered. "I say we make him think he got away with it."

Which is how we ended up walking out of the clinic with what looked like a bundled up cat. I made a big show of tears. Riley did his best to look sad. Acting wasn't really his thing unless he was seducing a woman. Nothing about a dead pretend cat was sexy, so he struggled a little.

Back at home, I found a box and stuffed it with an old blanket while Riley made a big deal out of digging a hole in the backyard under a big oak tree. Solemnly, we stood under the tree after burying the box. I made a show of weeping and clinging to Riley's arm. He looked pretty serious.

"I don't think I'll ever get another cat," I whined. "It would never be as great as Philby."

Riley just nodded.

"What is going on?" Kelly stormed into the backyard. She froze when she saw my face and the little rounded mound of dirt.

"Oh no! What happened? Why didn't you call me?" she asked hysterically. That was weird. Kelly never got hysterical about anything. I really needed to have a chat with her.

Riley and I swapped glances. This was unintended. But maybe it could work.

"I can't believe you killed the cat!" Kelly shouted. "What is wrong with you?"

Uh-oh. This maybe wasn't such a great idea after all.

"Come inside," I begged. "We'll tell you all about it."

Kelly glared at me. Okay, we were on rage now. What was wrong with this woman?

"She didn't kill him," Riley said. He looked like he was going to bust out laughing. That would be worse.

I grabbed Kelly by the arm, but she shrugged me off. "Fine, it wasn't your fault," she snarled. "But you still should've called me! I'm your best friend!"

Okay…this was getting out of hand.

Riley stepped up and firmly guided Kelly to the house. He murmured softly, things I've heard him say before to distract hysterical women.

I was more concerned that my best friend was furious with me. Why wouldn't she, of all people, wait to hear what I had to say? Granted, the outburst helped if Bobb was spying on us. But I just didn't get why she was going so crazy.

Once inside the house, Riley swept it to make sure no one was inside. It was empty. I poured Kelly a glass of wine, and she grudgingly took it. Once she started breathing again, Riley filled her in on what had happened. After a few moments, Kelly calmed down.

"You still should've called me," she grumbled. There was more she wasn't telling me. But I didn't feel I should bring up her recent mood swings in front of Riley.

"Okay, fine," I said. "I am guilty of that. I'm sorry."

"It's just that I really liked that cat," Kelly said.

"He's still alive," I said.

She ignored me. "I thought Philby was the best thing for you. You two needed each other."

"He's still alive. And I like him too." I was a little confused now. We needed each other? What kind of loser was I that I
needed
a cat?

"We're picking him up tomorrow," Riley soothed. He really was good at this. "I'm so sorry to upset you. We just wanted to lay a trap for Bobb. We're hoping he was listening out there or will come back tonight to make sure he's dead."

I wasn't sure how comforting those actual words were, but that was what we were trying to do.

"I've got to go to work," Kelly said suddenly, standing up and heading for the door. "Call me if something happens." She slammed the door behind her.

"Something tells me I'm going to pay for this fake dead cat later," I said.

"Well, let's hunker down for the day," Riley said as he took out his laptop and set up on the breakfast bar.

"That's it? We're just going to hang out here all day?" I asked. That sounded boring.

Riley nodded. "Yes. We have to see if Bobb comes back to look for Philby."

I looked out the window at the sad grave of the blanket in a box. "It needs a tombstone," I said.

In the garage I found some paint, and after scouring the backyard, I found a large rock. It took me an hour to paint it and find a way to stick it in the ground near the grave, but it worked.

"Philby Wrath," Riley read over my shoulder as I worked in the dirt. "Beloved Cat. Rest In Peace."

"I wanted to write more, but I ran out of room," I said, wiping my hands as I rose to my feet.

"I can see that." He pointed to the way the word
Peace
got smaller and smaller toward the end until the final
e
looked more like a period.

"Yeah, well," I said, "I had to do something to remember him by." I'd wanted to put something about how even though he looked like Hitler, he was actually more like Winston Churchill, but there was no way I could fit that on there.