The Mysteries of Max Box Sets 3

by Nic Saint

  “And she’s been saying that I’m a slut!” Shanille retorted.

  “I did not!” Harriet cried. “You take that back!”

  “I will do no such thing,” said Shanille. “I will not be insulted by a common Persian!”

  “No anti-Persian racism here, Shanille,” said Kingman sternly. “And what do you have to say about the accusation? Are you trying to lay your paws on Brutus?”

  “Of course not! I don’t even like Brutus! He’s been saying some very nasty things about me!”

  “Like what?” asked Kingman, who couldn’t resist a nice morsel of juicy gossip any more than the rest of us could.

  “Brutus says I don’t observe Lent, but I do! I always observe Lent.”

  “You abstain from eating meat during Lent?” asked Harriet, horrified.

  Shanille raised her head proudly. “I do. So you better tell your boyfriend he’s a liar.”

  “Brutus didn’t say those things,” said Harriet. “You’re lying.”

  “Milo told me and Milo knows. Milo lives with Brutus,” said Shanille. “So there.”

  I groaned, and locked eyes with Harriet. She knew, too. “Oh, dear,” she said.

  “Who told you about Shanille having an affair with Brutus?” I asked.

  “Oscar.” She nodded. “And he probably heard it from Milo.”

  “Milo,” I said, extending and retracting my claws. “Always Milo.”

  “Did I hear my name?” suddenly a voice rang out.

  We all looked up and there he was. The treacherous cat himself.

  Harriet rounded on him. “You told Shanille Brutus says she doesn’t observe Lent,” she snarled, and something of the fight she’d just engaged in must have still come through in her voice, for Milo moved back a few paces.

  “I’m sure Brutus is making that up, Harriet. I would never say such things.”

  “You didn’t?” asked Shanille, surprised.

  “Of course not, Shanille,” said Milo. “I know what a God-fearing cat you are. You’re an example to us all.”

  If he wasn’t tearing cats down, he was building them up. Nice strategy.

  “You told Oscar that Brutus was having an affair with Shanille,” said Harriet now.

  “Oscar said that? But that’s terrible! I always knew there was something fishy about that cat. But then he does work for a fishmonger,” he added with a sly smile.

  The cat was slick, I had to give him that.

  “Look, you have to stop spreading these lies,” I told him. “Cats are getting hurt.”

  “Spreading lies? I don’t spread lies, Max,” he said with an expression of such innocence he could have fooled even me. “Am I a born socializer? Yes, I am. I love my fellow cats and I love shooting the breeze and even the occasional crude joke. But lying? Spreading rumors and gossip? I would never do that.” He was holding up his paw. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You were a Cat Scout?” asked Dooley, impressed in spite of himself.

  “I was only the most decorated Cat Scout in the history of cat scouting,” said Milo proudly. “They gave me so many medals that I finally told them to stop. It was becoming embarrassing. Also my human ran out of space on the mantel.”

  “There’s no such thing as cat scouting,” I said, then turned to Kingman. “Is there?”

  But Kingman was holding up his paws and walking away. “I’m not getting involved, cats. You’re old and wise enough to know a lie when you hear one.”

  And with these words, he hopped back onto the checkout counter and dozed off.

  Chapter 40

  Odelia walked into the police station just as Yasir Bellinowski walked out. The crime kingpin had the gall to give her a lascivious grin, which she bluntly ignored.

  “Hey, Odelia!” Dolores yelled from her perch behind the glass.

  “Hey, Dolores,” she said, walking up to the desk. “Is Chase in?”

  “Oh, he’s in, all right. Listen, honey. What’s this stuff I keep hearing about your granny moving in and Chase moving out? Correct me if I’m wrong but shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

  “Chase never moved in,” said Odelia, wondering if these were the rumors traveling around town.

  “Still,” the wizened front desk officer grunted. “I’d rather have a man sleeping in my bed than my grandmother, if you see what I’m saying.”

  Oh, she saw what Dolores was saying, all right, and she heartily agreed. “I can’t very well kick her out, can I?”

  “Didn’t she use to live with your mom?”

  “She did. They had a falling-out.”

  She really wasn’t ready to discuss family business with outsiders, though, so she was determined to leave it at that. Dolores was determined not to. “What happened? She and your dad don’t get along? I heard she quit that receptionist job at the doctor’s office.”

  “I think it will all work itself out,” she heard herself say—quite lamely, too.

  “Sure, honey,” said Dolores dubiously, grimacing like one denied the kind of information she feels entitled to. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t keep that man waiting. He’s one hot hunk, and there’s plenty of women working out of this here police station that wouldn’t mind getting hot and heavy with him—if you see what I’m saying.”

  Once again, she saw exactly what Dolores was saying. “I think I get the picture.”

  “So you better stop slacking, baby girl,” said Dolores. “And get fracking.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” she said curtly, then stalked off.

  Get fracking my ass, she thought. If anyone had to stop slacking it was her dad, who urgently needed to patch things up with his mother-in-law. Before she drove them all crazy.

  She arrived at the police precinct proper, and one of Chase’s colleagues, Sarah Flunk, gestured in the direction of the interview rooms. She walked on, passing her uncle’s empty office, and suddenly wished the big guy was back from his hiking trip already. Without him at the station things kinda felt a little frazzled.

  She found Chase in the interview room, reading from a file and looking dazed. She gave the doorjamb a quick knock and stepped inside.

  “I just saw Yasir Bellinowski,” she said.

  He placed down the file and rubbed his face. “I talked to him.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. He’s one slippery little weasel.”

  She took a seat across from the cop. “Did you show him the pictures?”

  “He said to talk to his personnel manager.”

  “What about the rose?”

  “He wasn’t impressed.”

  They were both silent for a beat, then Odelia remembered something. “I just met Olaf Brettin.”

  “Daily Inquirer Olaf Brettin?”

  “The one and only. He was paying a visit to Dan.”

  “And?”

  “You mean did he confess? No, he did not.”

  She gave him the CliffsNotes version of their brief conversation and Chase blew out a sigh. “We’re not getting anywhere with this, Poole.”

  “I hear you, Kingsley.”

  “So what are we doing wrong?”

  “You’re the cop, Chase. You tell me.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “We need to find Harlos and Knar and lean on them until they give up their boss.”

  The two men Max and Dooley had mentioned turned out to be two low-level criminals associated with Yasir Bellinowski. Jean Harlos and Markus Knar had a rap sheet an arm long and a reputation for doing whatever their client paid them to do, even murder.

  “So it’s pretty clear, isn’t it? Bellinowski is our guy,” said Odelia.

  “Yes, he is, but like I said, the guy is as slippery as an eel.”

  “Once you catch Harlos and Knar, you’ll have him dead to rights.”

  He nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

  A knock at the door had them both look up. It was Sarah again. The copper-haired officer with the fine-boned freckled face gave a quick smile. “Dei
rdre Dickerson is here to see you, Detective. I put her in the Chief’s office.”

  “Deirdre Dickerson as in Dick Dickerson’s daughter?” Chase asked.

  Sarah nodded and rapped the door before retreating.

  Chase and Odelia shared a look of surprise, then both got up.

  “Better see what she wants,” said Chase.

  “You want me there?”

  “Why not? You’re here now, aren’t you? And maybe she’ll feel more inclined to talk when there’s a woman present.”

  “Women usually feel pretty disposed to talk around you, though, if Dolores is to be believed,” said Odelia.

  Chase grinned. “What has Dolores gone and said now?”

  “That there are a lot of women officers who wouldn’t mind getting down and dirty with you—especially now that I kicked you out of my house so I could move my grandma in.”

  “Don’t listen to Dolores, honey,” said Chase. “She’s a great cop and I love her to pieces but quite frankly she’s full of crap. And I say this with the greatest respect.”

  “Uncle Alec always says Dolores is the station’s barometer. If he wants to know what’s going on all he has to do is take her out for a drink and he’s completely up to date on the latest gossip, grievances, office politics, feuds and every family issue of every officer.”

  “Your uncle takes Dolores out for drinks?”

  “At least once a month.”

  “Chief Alec works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.”

  Chapter 41

  Deirdre Dickinson was a tall young woman with a sandy-colored bob, a tilt-tipped nose and a pronounced chin. She got up when they entered.

  “Detective Kingsley?” she said. She looked a little anxious, Odelia thought.

  “That’s me. And this is our civilian consultant, Odelia Poole.”

  Deirdre nodded nervously. “I just wanted to know when my father’s body will be released. I would like to organize the funeral as soon as possible.”

  “I would have to check with the coroner’s office,” said Chase. “But I imagine it won’t be long now. Please, take a seat.”

  Deirdre did, and so did Chase and Odelia, Chase on Uncle Alec’s side of the desk, and Odelia right next to Deirdre.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Dickerson,” said Odelia, leaning forward and placing a commiserating hand on the woman’s arm.

  Deirdre nodded and looked down. Her eyes were red-rimmed and it was obvious she’d been crying. “I loved my father, Miss Poole. In spite of the horrible things people say about him he was not a bad man. He just did what he thought he had to do to make it in his line of work.”

  “Did… you have a good relationship?”

  “Yes, we did. In private, my father was a sweetheart. Not the bully they made him out to be.”

  “There’s a rumor,” Odelia began, and Deirdre looked up sharply.

  “Don’t believe the rumors, Miss Poole. I know people say Daddy cut me out of his will but there’s absolutely no truth to that.”

  “I heard you were suing him?”

  Deirdre shook her head decidedly. “Vicious gossip started by Daddy’s enemies. We had a wonderful relationship.”

  “Now that you’re here, I wanted to show you something,” said Chase, and took out the picture of the rose. He placed it on the desk in front of Deirdre.

  “What is this?” she asked, looking up.

  “It was found in the safe. Where your father died,” Chase explained.

  Deirdre’s eyes shot full of tears at these words, and she quickly took out a tissue and pressed it to her nose. “This is all so horrible. He didn’t deserve to die—and he certainly didn’t deserve to die in this way. Who would do such a terrible thing? And why?”

  “Does the name Yasir Bellinowski mean anything to you?” asked Odelia.

  Deirdre shook her head, trying to compose herself. “Is he the man that did this?”

  “He’s one of the leads we’re pursuing,” said Chase.

  “He’s a gangster, isn’t he? A mobster? My father published stories about him.”

  “Did he ever mention Bellinowski to you?”

  “Daddy never talked about his work. He liked to keep his family life and his professional life strictly separate. He even forbade us from reading the National Star when we grew up. Of course me and my sisters would sneak copies home from school and read them anyway.” She smiled a weak smile. “We were very proud of him. All of us were. Even Mom.”

  Odelia remembered reading about Deirdre’s mom. She was Dickerson’s second wife, and originally hailed from France, where she’d returned after the divorce. Dickerson had gone on to marry two more times, but those marriages had ended in divorce as well.

  “I know the rumors, Detective,” Deirdre said. “I know how they say that I did it. Or at least one of us. To get our hands on Daddy’s money. But I can assure you we would never hurt our father. He was a family man and doted on us. Even after he divorced our mother.” She looked up imploringly. “Please find whoever did this, Detective. These monsters can’t be allowed get away with this. They really can’t.”

  And with these words, she finally broke down into sobs.

  Odelia rubbed her back, but generally felt helpless. She couldn’t imagine anything ever happening to her father or mother. She’d be devastated, too. And when she locked eyes with Chase, she could see he was thinking the same thing. There was a determined look in his eyes. He was going to bring Yasir Bellinowski to justice. Whatever it took.

  Chapter 42

  That evening, a homey scene at Odelia’s masked a deeper, more horrible truth: a usurper was working away in the background, chipping away at the foundations that made ours such a warm nest. I would have warned Odelia, but she was so busy with her investigation, hunched over her laptop, a frown marring her lovely features, that I didn’t have the heart to disturb her.

  I was on the couch, Dooley next to me, watching Jeopardy with Gran, while Harriet and Brutus were nowhere to be found, and neither, for that matter, was Milo.

  I knew he couldn’t be far away, though, and the fact that he was closetroubled me, making it impossible to relax.

  Now cats are generally vigilant creatures by nature, but I was actually ill at ease, my tummy churning and making strange noises, and that had never happened to me before.

  “Where is Brutus, Max?” asked Dooley.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is Harriet, Max?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is Milo, Max?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “No need to shout,” grumbled Dooley. “If you don’t know, just say so.”

  I didn’t want to point out that I just had, so I bit my tongue.

  “When is Gran going to fix the garden?” asked Dooley, who was in a questioning mood. It generally happened when Jeopardy was on. He probably thought he was Alex Trebek.

  “I don’t know, Dooley,” I grumbled.

  “There’s nothing to fix,” said Grandma. “The garden is fine just the way it is.”

  We both directed a look at the disaster area Gran had reduced the garden to, and both decided it was better not to comment. The mausoleum project had apparently been abandoned, just like the Versailles project that preceded it. I didn’t mind. The piles of sand and the holes were wonderful to dig into and made a nice change from my litter box.

  They also provided a great opportunity for Harriet and Brutus to hide when they went on one of their nookie sessions. Though judging from the distant and frankly disturbing way Brutus had behaved today, I had a feeling there wouldn’t be a lot of that going on tonight.

  “Did I tell you guys that Tex and I reconciled?” asked Gran now. She was unusually chatty. Possibly because she’d managed to watch all of her soaps and was now fully caught up. Quitting her job had given her oodles of time to do so, and she’d made good use of it.

  “That’s great,” said Dooley.

  “Does this mean you’
re moving back in with Marge and Tex?” I asked.

  Dooley’s excitement diminished. He had his doubts about Chase moving in with Odelia, and the prospect of the two of them making lots of babies, which would inevitably push out Odelia’s cats. Even though I told him many times this was not the case, he still wasn’t too keen on the idea.

  “Nah,” said Gran. “I like it here. Tex and I have made our peace—he finally apologized for kicking me out of his office and confessed that he needed me—but that doesn’t mean we have to live together. Frankly when two strong personalities like ours spend too much time together we inevitably clash. So it’s better if I stay with Odelia. I never crash with Odelia. She has one of those soft, yielding personalities that suit me a lot better.”

  We both directed a curious look at Odelia, but she hadn’t been listening. Phew. It’s never nice to be called a ‘yielding’ personality, which is a fancy word for a pushover.

  “So Tex actually apologized?” asked Dooley.

  “Pretty much,” said Gran, shoving a Cheez Doodle into her mouth.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” said Odelia suddenly, and we all looked up.

  “Did you finally get those winning numbers?” asked Gran.

  “Just something to do with the case,” said Odelia, then abruptly got up. “I’m sorry, you guys. I need to pop out for a bit. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  And with these words she hurried out the door and was gone.

  Gran shrugged. “Hormones,” she said knowingly. “They hit you when you least expect it.”

  Chapter 43

  Odelia was in her car and hurtling along the road when she remembered she’d totally forgotten to take her phone. She slammed the wheel with the heel of her hand. Too late to turn back, though. She needed to see this through. Fifteen minutes later she took the turn onto Uncle Alec’s street, practically losing a hubcap at the corner as her tires screeched dangerously, then parked in front of her uncle’s house and got out.

  Pressing her finger to the bell, she was relieved when the door was yanked open and Chase stood before her, a box of Chinese food in one hand, a fork in the other, and a spot of something yellow on his plaid shirt. “Odelia? Were we doing something tonight?”