“Kosovo,” I mumbled. “As in Eastern Europe? The Balkans? That Kosovo?”
“Yes, that one,” he said, chuckling. “It’s much safer than it was a few years ago. They’ve built a fabulous new library in the capital, and Minka starts working there next week as the head archivist. I gave her a glowing recommendation.”
I stared dumbfounded at the phone, then looked at Derek. He shook his head, equally mystified. I happened to glance at Alex, who was gazing innocently at the ceiling as she sipped her champagne. The kitten pounced on her foot and Alex smiled, set down her wine, and reached for the tiny bundle. It reminded me that Derek and I still hadn’t come up with a name for the little fuzz ball.
“Thanks for the great news, Ian,” I said distractedly. “Talk to you soon.”
I hung up, still confused. It took me a moment to fathom the truth, but finally I said, “Alex? Weren’t you assigned to Kosovo once upon a time?”
“Who, me?”
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Derek asked.
“You did this,” I murmured.
She glanced from the kitten to me and fluttered her eyelashes. “Whatever are you talking about?”
I looked at Derek and whispered, “Her powers are awesome.”
He nodded. “Truly awesome.”
“Not really.” Alex sighed and set the kitten down on the floor. “After the party, I couldn’t sleep for several nights and it had nothing to do with catching a killer. It was all because of that horrible Minka and those nasty things she said about you.” Alex shivered slightly and rubbed her arms. Her eyes narrowed down to pinpoints and her lips flattened in fury. “Nobody talks about my friend that way. She had to go. I knew I couldn’t have her killed, so I did the next best thing. I hope you don’t mind.”
Derek and I stared at each other and began to laugh.
“Are you laughing with me or at me?” she asked, cautiously glancing from one of us to the other.
We both reached for her and enveloped her in a group hug.
“With you,” I said. “Even though you terrify me.”
“Me, too,” Derek admitted, and grabbed the champagne bottle to fill our glasses.
I picked up the kitten. “To celebrate, let’s name this little girl tonight.”
Alex smiled. “You could always name her Cupcake.”
“I love cupcakes.” I nuzzled the kitten’s soft neck.
“I still like Charlemagne,” Derek said. “Charlie for short.”
“I do like Charlie,” I admitted, “but what’s the attraction to Charlemagne?”
He hesitated, twirled his wineglass, refusing to meet my questioning gaze. “It’s silly, I suppose, but I had a dog when I was young. Ugly little thing. Runt of the litter. He wasn’t expected to live, frankly, so we got him for free. I was studying the Western emperors at school, and I thought if the pup were given the name of one of the greatest rulers in history, he might find within himself the will to live. So I called him Charlemagne. He grew up to live a good, long life.” He glanced at me and smiled. “But that’s a ridiculous reason. Forget it.”
“No, it’s sweet,” I said, melting a little.
Derek took the furry creature from me and held her in his big hands. There was something overwhelmingly attractive about a strong man cuddling a tiny kitten.
I smiled up at him. “Let’s call her Charlie. Charlie Cupcake.”
Author’s Note This story is a work of fiction except for a few historical details. Both the actress Mae West and the author Frances Hodgson Burnett were real people. Both lived in or near New York City from 1911 to 1912. Mae West first began performing on Broadway in 1911. Frances Hodgson Burnett published The Secret Garden in 1911, and her Little Lord Fauntleroy had long been a popular Broadway play, as well as a novel. Many of the details about Mae and Frances are based on research, but my suggestion that the two women met and exchanged books and/or memorabilia is purely a product of my imagination.