Kitty disappeared into the crowd. I couldn’t imagine what type of emergency a Hollywood publicist might have, but I knew Kitty dealt with some pretty high-profile clients. Probably some wardrobe malfunction or shoplifting scandal or meltdown captured on camera. Whatever it was, it was obviously important to the client—and to Kitty.
Sam and I made our way behind the dais and located the two cats. Tobey scolded us a bit, but Minou was calm or maybe just exhausted by her big evening. Bengal cats have a high-pitched meow, almost a squawk. In fact, about the same sound a squeaky dog toy makes. Something to think about if you’re considering one of these beautiful felines as a pet.
We got the cat carriers secured in Sam’s Ferrari and headed north on Pacific Coast Highway to Laguna Beach proper.
As we neared the downtown shops, traffic slowed to a crawl. Once we turned the curve at Blue Bird Canyon we could see why.
There must have been a bad accident on the highway. There were flashing lights from police cars and emergency vehicles. Orange County rescue pulled around the line of cars and stopped, EMTs piled out.
We inched forward as one of the uniformed officers began directing traffic down a side street. As we neared the intersection I could see the late model BMW, its front end nearly destroyed by the light pole it had careened into.
I suddenly felt sick.
I knew that car.
My heart thumped in my chest, and I fought to keep control. A few hours earlier I’d been in that car.
“Sam, stop.” I finally choked out the words.
He jammed on the brakes, and I jumped out and hurried toward the accident scene. I wouldn’t get in the way, but I had to be sure.
As I got closer, I knew. It was Kitty’s car. The vanity license plate “StarPR” confirmed it. I ran faster.
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