Free Catnapped! by Elaine Viets Page A

did he do with her?”
    “He takes Justine to his home. Trish said Arthur has two cats of his own and ‘he’s a good father.’”
    “What’s that mean?” Helen asked.
    “She told me, in great detail. If you want to lose an hour or two, talk to Trish about cats. Arthur comes home every night at seven to feed both cats and play with them. One’s a Russian blue kitten and the other’s a big Maine Coon.”
    “I love Maine Coons,” Helen said. “They’re big, furry teddy bears.”
    “Trish said Arthur often works twelve-hour days, but he insists on being at home at seven, no matter what. If it’s not raining, he feeds his cats by the pool and then plays with them. He makes sure they have a half hour for dinner and quality time.”
    “Does Arthur live in Peerless Point?”
    “No, near downtown Fort Lauderdale. A waterfront house in Rio Vista.”
    Helen raised an eyebrow. “He’s definitely got some bucks.”
    “It’s after six,” Phil said. “Wanna go catnapping with me? You can drive the getaway car. I’ll swipe the cat and we’ll drive it to Nancie’s office.”
    “How are you going to see Arthur’s backyard?”
    “A former client lives on the same street. She’s a snowbird, and I still have her security code. Arthur’s the only year-round resident on that block. I’ll get in through her back gate and make my way down the seawall. You’ll wait in the car with Thumbs’s pet carrier.”
    “Okay,” Helen said. “But I still think Trish isn’t guilty.”
    “So noted,” Phil said. “Now think about never seeing those steaming cat boxes if I’m right.”
    “Let’s go,” Helen said.
    Even in rush hour, Rio Vista was only twenty minutes away. The pricey neighborhood along the Intracoastal Waterway was built during the roaring twenties. Helen could see Scott and Zelda playing in a tiered fountain, and Gatsby gazing wistfully out an upstairs window.
    Phil had changed into his disguise—board shorts, a T-shirt and sneakers. “I’ll wade into the water first, so if I’m caught, I can say I fell in and lost my paddleboard.”
    “Yuck,” Helen said. “That water’s nasty.”
    “But it gives me an excuse to carry a towel so I can wrap up the cat,” Phil said. “That way Justine won’t claw my arm.”
    At twenty after seven, Helen dropped off Phil half a block from Arthur’s home, a three-story mansion with a fountain. They could see a long, shiny black Mercedes in the curved drive.
    “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so,” Phil said. He reached in back for Thumbs’s carrier and left it on the front passenger seatwith its door open. “Keep driving around until you see Arthur’s car leave, then park back here.”
    He left, the towel slung over his shoulder.
    Helen toured Rio Vista’s tree-lined streets, waiting for Phil. Many of the stucco mansions had yachts docked in the back and exotic gardens, but she couldn’t enjoy the sights. Helen was sure the Neighborhood Watch program would report her.
    At least I’m a white woman, she thought. That means I look harmless to these homeowners.
    Helen was relieved when Arthur’s Mercedes backed out of the drive. She drove around one more time, then parked at the drop-off, drummed her nails against the steering wheel and checked her watch. “Come on, Phil,” she muttered.
    Finally, Phil jogged out of his former client’s backyard, singing loudly to cover the howls coming from the towel-wrapped bundle in his arms. Helen opened his door, he tossed the bundle into the carrier and climbed in. He was soaked, and his wet tennies squelched.
    “Go!” he said.
    Helen wasted no time. On the short drive to Nancie’s law office, Phil called the lawyer. As they expected, she was working at her desk.
    “I think our client is scamming us,” he said. “Helen and I are bringing you the proof. Once you see it, you may not want to take the case.”
    “I’ll make that decision after I talk to you,” Nancie said.
    At the stoplight, Helen noticed