“I don’t know. It just is.”
There was a tentative knock at the door, and Nolan poked his head in. His chocolate-brown eyes were wide, and a flush brightened his cinnamon-colored cheeks. “There’s a Genevieve ’ere to see Secret?” He phrased it like a question.
“Send her in,” Keaty and I said in unison.
Nolan held the door open, and when Genevieve walked in, I could have sworn the world went black and white and Keaty and I were transported into an old film noir. The ocelot queen was a knockout, no doubt, and that was high praise coming from me since I was personal friends with Marilyn Monroe.
She was wearing a classic Chanel day suit in a teal-blue blend that made her red hair look like it was ablaze and deepened the purple hue of her eyes. Her makeup was impeccable, but I could tell she’d been crying by the mascara smudges under her lashes. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun, and that, coupled with the five-inch Manolos she wore, made her look six or seven inches taller than she really was.
No matter her height, Genevieve always carried herself with a poise I could never hope to imitate. She was a real queen. I was a pretender to the throne.
“Secret,” she said, her voice a smoky purr, “thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice.”
I stood and shook her hand and indicated the chair next to me. “I hope you don’t mind if Mr. Keats sits in on our meeting. He’s my partner, and—”
“Hello, Francis,” Genevieve said.
I stiffened, waiting for him to correct her, but instead he squeezed her hand and said, “Genny, it’s a pleasure as always.” He dusted a kiss on her knuckles before sitting back down.
When Genevieve took her seat, she crossed her ankles and removed a handkerchief from her clutch, then heaved a fluttering sigh. She played the part of a noir femme fatale flawlessly.
“It’s my niece Lucy.”
“What’s happened?”
“She’s supposed to be under my supervision here while she goes to Columbia for her undergrad, but I’m afraid I’ve been a little lax. She’s a young woman, and I didn’t want to get in the way of her having a proper college experience, you understand?” Genevieve blotted under her eyes. “She checks in by phone every other day, but for the last few weeks she’s only called once, maybe twice. She hasn’t called at all this week, and when I tried her dorm, her roommate says she hasn’t seen Lucy in days.”
Keaty was instantly on point. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t know if there was anyone special,” Genevieve admitted.
“We’ll look into it. If she was seeing someone, there’s a chance she might have run away for an impromptu vacation.” I explained the rationale behind Keaty’s question. “You know how flighty girls in love can be.”
The ocelot queen gave me a halfhearted smile. “There’s more.”
I nodded, inviting her to continue.
“You understand how few of my kind there are, yes?”
“You’ve mentioned it. About a dozen in the country, right?”
“Yes. Well I recently received an offer of marriage from the jaguar king.”
Why did that sound like a bad B-side from The Doors?
“I take it I’m not about to offer you my heartfelt congratulations?” I asked.
Genevieve snorted. “Certainly not. While I know perfectly well if and when I marry it will be for political protection and not love, there is no offer of power strong enough for me to willingly share my bed with Gregory Hamilton. He’s a revolting misogynist and would see all the females of my race pawned off to men equally repugnant. No, as a queen, I would never let that fate befall my people.”
Her nobility and devotion to her cats made me wonder if Lucas didn’t have a point when he said I wasn’t really part of the pack. Would I sacrifice love for the better good of the pack like Genevieve said she would someday do? She loved Rebecca, but she would marry a cat king to keep her ocelots safe. In many ways she was twice the woman I was.
“How did Gregory take your rejection of his proposal?” Keaty asked.
“How does any man take rejection, Francis?” She gave him a meaningful look.
Keaty and I were both quiet, waiting for Genevieve to continue. When she only stared at the window behind Keaty’s desk, I urged her on. “Do you think Gregory has something to do with Lucy’s…” I was hesitant to say disappearance. In all likelihood, Genevieve’s niece had run off with a boy her aunt didn’t know about. But Genevieve seemed certain that sinister jaguar forces were afoot, and what kind of investigators would we be if we didn’t listen to her theory? So I amended my statement and said, “…Lucy’s absence?”
Genevieve turned her head towards me, her eyes flashing with sudden ferocity. “If he has harmed so much as one hair on her head, I will disembowel him with my bare hands and make a hat out of his organs.”