What the Cat Saw by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

never. The scrape might have been there for months.
    She started down the steps. Carefully.
    H AKLO FOUNDATION glittered in faux gold letters in an arch over stone pillars. Nela turned in. Leafless trees bordered well-kept grounds. Winter-bare branches seemed even more bleak in contrast to a green lawn of fescue. The velvety grass emphasized the Mediterranean glow of the two-story golden stucco building atop a ridge.
    At the foundation entrance, an impressive portico covered shallow stone steps. The imposing statue of Harris Webster gazed into infinity at the base of the steps. The red tile roof made Nela feel homesick. There were so many Spanish colonial buildings in old LA. Even the ornate stonework on oversize windows seemed familiar, but there should have been palm trees, not leafless sycamores.
    A discreet sign with an arrow pointed to the right: P ARKING .
    Obediently Nela turned right. She passed a line of evergreens. The short spur ended at a cross street. A sign to the right announced: G UEST P ARKING . The guest parking lot was out of sight behind the evergreens. A sign to the left: STAFF ONLY .
    She turned left. A wing extended the length of the drive. At the end of the building, she turned left again. A matching wing extended from the other side with a courtyard in between. Arched windowsoverlooked a courtyard garden with a tiled fountain, waterless in January. A cocktail reception could easily spill out into the courtyard in good weather. She glanced about but saw no parking areas. Once past the building, another discreet sign led to the staff parking lot, also screened by evergreens. Beyond the evergreens, a half dozen outbuildings likely provided either storage or housed maintenance. On the far side of sycamores that stood sentinel alongside the building, she glimpsed several rustic cabins.
    She was a little surprised to see a car in the lot, a beige Camry. Nela turned into the parking area and chose the slot next to the Camry. It would take only a minute to spot the entrance she should use Monday.
    When she stepped out of the VW and closed the door, the sound seemed loud, the country silence oppressive. She wasn’t accustomed to stillness. There was always noise in LA. She followed a covered walkway to the end of the near wing. The walk ended in a T. To her left was a doorway helpfully marked: STAFF ONLY . To the right, the sidewalk led past the sycamores to the cabins.
    There were two keys on Chloe’s key ring. One fit the VW. Nela assumed the other afforded entrance to the building. The key to Marian Grant’s apartment had been separate, identifiable by a pink ribbon.
    However, the foundation locks might be rigged so that any entrance outside of work hours triggered an alarm. As Nela hesitated, the heavy oak door opened.
    A middle-aged woman with frizzy brown hair peered out. Pale brown eyes, magnified by wire-rim glasses perched on a bony nose, looked at her accusingly. “This is private property. The foundation is closed to the public until Monday. I heard a car and if you continue to trespass I will call the police.”
    Nela had no wish to deal further with law enforcement personnel. She spoke quickly, embarrassed and uncomfortable. “I’m Chloe Farley’s sister, Nela. Chloe gave me directions and I came by to be sure I knew the way on Monday.”
    “Oh.” The brown eyes blinked rapidly. “I should have recognized you. Chloe has a picture on her bookcase. But so many things have happened and I’m here by myself. Oh dear. I hope you will forgive me. Please come in. I’m Louise Spear, the executive secretary. I’ll show you around.” She held the door wide. “That will make everything easier Monday. Do you have a key?”
    As she stepped inside, Nela held up the key ring. “Is the bronze one the key to the staff entrance?”
    Louise peered. “That’s it. Did you intend to try it to be sure?”
    Nela smiled. “No. I thought I could knock Monday morning if necessary. I was afraid to use the