by Nic Saint
What fascinated me, though, was that all the kibble consisted of different shades of gray.
“Don’t tell me Leo got the kibble painted gray,” I said, amazed.
“Yeah, he got the stuff specially made by the manufacturers. They cooked up batches of the stuff just for him—or me, I guess.”
“Jeez,” I said, but still eagerly thumped my snout against one of the levers of what looked like prime gourmet kibble, and out tumbled several nuggets. I eagerly gobbled them up, then spewed them out again. “Yuck!” I said. “What is this flavor?”
“Ash, I guess,” said Pussy. “Leo didn’t believe in flavor. Or smell. He said we needed to get rid of our unnatural attachment to taste. He liked a clean palate, so his imagination could run rampant. He didn’t like color, or taste, or beautiful music or anything that could interfere with his ability to create.”
“Oh, my Lord,” I said, eyeing the poor cat with unadulterated pity. “What a sad, sad life you must have lived.”
“Hey, at least I’m one of the richest cats in the world,” she said without enthusiasm.
“Well, your days of living life without taste or color or sound or smell will be over now, right?” I said.
“Wanna bet?” she said. “With my luck I’ll probably end up living with someone even worse than Leo.”
We ate in silence, and even though the stuff was utterly tasteless and odorless, I still ate my fill. The stomach wants what it wants, right?
And here I thought I knew how the other half lived, I thought as I watched Pussy drink from what looked like a silver salver filled to the brim with crystal-clear water—probably sterilized, if the rest was any indication.
“You should stick around,” said Pussy finally. “There’s going to be a big meeting tonight. All the important people are going to be there.”
“What important people?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Lawyers and board members and shareholders and executives and such. I’ll bet they’ll decide my fate at the meeting, so I probably shouldn’t miss it for the world, but…” She hesitated and gave me a forlorn look. “Could you do me a great, big, gigantic favor?”
“Anything,” I said.
“Could you attend the meeting for me? And then tell me what they decided?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s too much for me,” she said. “I’m sure these are pretty horrible people. As lifeless and colorless and soulless as the rest of this place. And I simply can’t bear to listen to them while they discuss my future. I need you to tell me about the parts that are important for me to know. Only the facts.”
“Sure, no problem,” I said. “But aren’t they going to notice us and kick us out?”
“No, they won’t,” she said with a wan smile. “You’ll see.”
And with these mysterious words she left us.
“How very sad,” said Dooley.
“Yeah,” I said. “And to think that I actually used to envy her. When we watched her Instagram pictures I always thought she had it made.”
“Me too,” said Dooley. “The richest, most spoiled cat in the world. Poor, poor Pussy.”
“Poor Pussy,” I agreed, and then gobbled up some more kibble. It was utterly tasteless and odorless, but it still hit the spot, especially since I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning.
“So we’ll stick around and listen in on this meeting?” Dooley asked.
“I think we owe it to Pussy, don’t you?”
“Isn’t this against union rules?”
“I don’t think so. It’s got nothing to do with the case, right? We’re only doing this as a personal favor to Pussy.”
So we ambled out of the kitchen, and then went for a ramble around the house. Pussy, who’d returned from a short interlude in the bathroom to act as our tour guide, showed us all the best spots where she liked to lay her weary head, and invited us to enjoy them. It was the nicest thing any cat had ever done for us. Usually cats hate it when other cats invade their space, or even dare to come near their favorite spots, but Pussy had no qualms. What struck me, after we passed through several of the bedrooms and a couple of the bathrooms, was that life at Chateau Leonidas must have been pretty lonely for her, and quite dull. Maybe Leo and Gabe had loved her, and spoiled her rotten, but she still seemed unhappy. And suddenly I felt a little homesick, and started to long to be home again, snuggling up to Odelia on the couch while watching some silly show. Dooley must have felt the same way, for he gave me a sad glance that offered a glimpse into his soul. That glimpse was like a mirror: once Odelia was married, our lives would never be the same again.
But then I steeled myself. I was not going to allow myself to become prey to my emotions. It was the house, I suddenly realized, and Pussy’s mood, infecting me with their sadness and melancholy.
So I decided to perk up, and enjoy these rare Instagramable moments.
Chapter 13
Uncle Alec and Chase watched the man sitting across from them at the table and Alec wondered when he’d last seen a more miserable piece of human than this guy. Gabriel Crier was a well-preserved quinquagenarian with gentle features and close-cropped hair of a light blond hue. Right now, though, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his tan skin was blotched.
“But I’m telling you, I didn’t do it,” he repeated not for the first time.
“There’s a witness, Gabriel,” said Alec. “One of the maids saw you, with the knife in your hand, and blood all over your shirt.”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I was there, remember? But I’m still telling you I couldn’t have done it. I loved Leo. I would never…”
“So what do you think happened?” asked Chase, who had more patience than Alec.
“I don’t know, but I can’t have killed him. I would never… would I?”
“Is it true you and Leonidas had a big fight last night?”
Gabriel placed his hands on his head and nodded. “We did.”
“Can I ask what the fight was about?”
“The same as usual. I wanted Leo to take a step back—to relinquish the reins—basically to retire, and he flat-out refused. I told him he was seventy-eight and had earned the right to rest on his laurels. I wanted us to spend more time together. Travel the world. He was in excellent health and we’d been talking about spending a couple of months in Asia. Leo loved Malaysia, and always wanted to visit but his work prevented him. So I told him to leave the heavy lifting to his staff and take a step back but he insisted he couldn’t stop now.”
“Why not?” asked Alec. “I mean, like you said, he was seventy-eight. If he didn’t retire now when was he going to?”
“I don’t know. He claimed that things at the company were such that he simply couldn’t afford to assume a more hands-off role.”
“Things at the company were bad, you mean?” asked Chase.
“No idea. I’m not a business person myself. I used to be Leo’s hairstylist. That’s how we met, and then soon after I became his personal stylist and things progressed from there. I also used to do massages on the side. But that didn’t exactly make me qualified to determine what was going on at Leonidas Flake. All I know is that poor Leo was under a lot of pressure, which is why I told him to consider retirement or at least to take a break. But he refused, and said that if he stepped down as president and CEO now the whole house of cards could very well collapse and then everything he’d worked for would be reduced to nothing. I didn’t understand. How can an empire like Leonidas Flake collapse simply because the founder decides to retire? There must be plenty of people who can run that business, right?”
“I don’t know, buddy,” said Alec, who felt sorry for the guy, in spite of the fact that he was obviously a killer. “I’m not really into fashion myself.”
“Leo had trained a lieutenant. A second-in-command and potential successor. Xavier Yesmanicki. He’d been running the day-to-day side of the business for years, and was ready to take over. Or at least
that’s what Leo told me. He was so proud of Xavier. Said that if only he’d found him sooner he’d have been able to make Leonidas Flake twice as big as it was now. Anyway, our arguments always revolved around the same topic: I saw that he was suffering and so I urged him to slow down, and that made him upset, and so he threw in my face that all I wanted was to destroy his life’s work and yadda yadda yadda.” He threw his hands in the air. “It was horrible. Horrible!”
“And so one thing led to another and in a fit of rage you killed him.”
“No! When I get upset I don’t lash out. That’s not in my nature. I simply… crawl into my shell and completely… shut down, I guess.” His lip trembled as he nervously touched it. “I guess it’s the way I’m built—I don’t know.”
“So you gave him the silent treatment.”
“Yes, I did! Because it’s what I always do. We don’t speak for a day, maybe two days, and then we get up in the morning and we both act as if nothing happened, and then finally we hug it out and there will be tears and apologies and remorse and…” He blushed. “Well, make-up sex is popular for a reason.”
“Only this time there was no make-up sex,” said Chase.
He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare! This is a horror show! My life is ruined! And who’s going to take care of Pussy now?”
Alec shuffled uneasily in his chair. This interview wasn’t going well.
“So where is Pussy now?” he asked.
“Back at the house. Oh, she’ll get all the food and water she needs, but it’s the affection she’ll miss. The love she gets from her papas.” He was rocking back and forth now, hugging himself. “Poor Pussy. She needs her papas.”
“I’m sure Pussy will be fine,” said Chase. “Now let’s go back to last night. So you and Leo had a fight.”
“A very big fight.”
“So you…”
“So I walked out and went into my room, slamming the door. Then I put my music on as loud as possible. Rihanna, of course. Or it could have been Beyoncé. I don’t remember. Leo hated music. He said it messed up his frequency.”
“His frequency?”
“His body’s vibrational frequency. He had this theory that all creation comes out of the void—out of nothingness. So he needed to create a void in himself. Nothingness. No smell, no color, no taste, no sound… He would even put on gloves to cut out his sense of touch. Turn off the light. Meditate for hours and hours. And out of this nothingness, pure creation would ensue.”
“Well, he did create a pretty big business empire,” said Chase, “so maybe he was onto something.”
“I don’t think so. I think Leo was damaged. He had a horrible childhood, with parents who never showed him an ounce of affection. It made him bitter and withdrawn. He lived like the proverbial boy in the bubble, only his bubble was self-created.”
“And then you entered that bubble,” said Alec.
“Yes, I entered the bubble. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Leo wasn’t antisocial. He had lots of friends, and he liked to have fun. Just not when he was working.”
“I see. So back to last night. You were in your room, listening to Rihanna.”
“Or Beyoncé,” Chase added helpfully.
“I blasted my music all through the house at full volume. Five minutes later he came stomping into my room and yanked the speaker from the wall, then threw it out the window!” He laughed, then cried. “It was the last time I saw him! My beautiful, darling boy!”
“So how do you explain you standing at the side of the bed with a knife in your hand?”
“That’s just it! I can’t! I was asleep in my bed. Took me hours to fall asleep, worried as I was about Leo, and the fight we had. When we fight I always sleep badly. And then suddenly I’m wide awake, and I’m standing over him, and there’s blood everywhere, and there’s something cold and metallic in my hand and-and-and… Leo is dead, staring up at me with those lifeless, accusing eyes! As if he knew what I did and he wanted me to know that he knew!” He broke down, and Alec shook his head. They weren’t getting anywhere with this guy. So he and Chase got up and walked out to confer.
“Either he doesn’t remember or he’s a great actor,” said Chase.
“He seems sincere,” said Alec. “But it doesn’t matter. He was there—he did it. No jury will think otherwise, and no judge will decide not to convict him.”
Chase stared through the one-way mirror into the room where their suspect still sat, rocking back and forth again, his arms wrapped around himself and his face turned up to the ceiling, crying bitter tears.
“I feel sorry for the guy, though,” he said.
“He probably just lost it. Felt abandoned, or angry, flew into a rage. It happens, especially with emotional types like him. They bottle up their emotions for a while, then erupt like a geyser.” When Chase gave him a look of amusement, he said, “What?!”
“Is that your professional opinion, Mr. Freud?”
“The hell should I know! But it stands to reason he must have been out of it, made a grab for the knife, and stabbed. And that’s all it took, unfortunately. And when he finally came to, it was too late. The boyfriend was dead.”
“Diminished responsibility?”
“That’s for the judge to decide. I’m just telling it like I see it.”
There was a commotion behind them, and suddenly a blond-haired woman came bursting into the room, accompanied by a man with a camera, and before they could stop them they were aiming the camera at their suspect and the woman was firing off a barrage of questions at the Chief.
“Hey! Get the hell out of here!” he yelled.
Dolores, the police station receptionist, came huffing in. “I tried to stop them, Chief!” she cried. “They pushed right past me!”
“Is Gabriel Crier the killer, Chief? Why did he do it?” asked the woman. “And is it true that Leo Flake left his entire fortune to his cat? Any comment?”
“Get out!” thundered the Chief. “Out! Out! Out!”
More officers had arrived on the scene, and managed to muscle the twosome out of the room before their chief had a conniption fit.
“Can you believe that?” he demanded hotly.
“Actually, I can,” said Chase, who seemed amused at the interlude.
And as Alec stood reeling, he remembered the woman reporter’s last question: Is it true that Flake is leaving his entire fortune to his cat?
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Maybe that’s our motive, buddy. If Flake had decided to leave everything to his cat, then maybe this made Crier so angry he decided to kill him.”
“Which means he’ll get nothing,” said Chase. “Not much of a motive, Chief.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, frowning as he tapped his lip with his index finger. “We’re not talking about a rational person, here, though, Chase. And he might be lying about the fight. They could have been fighting over the inheritance, not about Leo Flake being a workaholic.”
“Let’s get back in there and have another crack at the guy,” Chase suggested.
They both joined Gabriel Crier in the interrogation room once more, and this time Alec decided to change tack. Instead of being the nice cop, he decided to play the bad cop and go for broke.
So he pounded the table with his fist—hard. “Isn’t it true that you and Leo fought about his intention to leave his fortune to his cat?” he demanded.
Gabriel stared at him, the sudden change in the chief’s demeanor shocking.
“N-n-no,” he said feebly. “No, like I said, we—”
“You couldn’t stand that he would leave everything to his cat and nothing to you, could you!” the Chief roared, pounding the table three times in quick succession and causing Gabriel to flinch. “And that’s why you fought! And that’s why you killed him, because you were so angry you felt you had nothing to lose!”
“N-n-no! I l-l-loved him. He l-l-loved me. The Pussy thing was simply a way for him to… Oh, Christ. Look,
he left everything to Pussy, but he also left Pussy to me, so in a roundabout way he left everything to me, you see.”
“Bullshit!” cried Alec, then wondered why he’d said that.
Chase, deciding to take over, said, ‘”So is that why you killed him, Gabriel? Because you wanted to lay your hands on all of that money?”
“No! I wasn’t with him for the money. I was with him for love. And I wanted him to live forever, and he could have, for he was in great shape. He was probably in better shape than me, in spite of his age. Look, you have to look into this,” he said, nervously searching Chase’s face. “You really have to. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I didn’t do this. I know myself. I’m not a killer. Whenever we had a spider in the bathroom I’d yell for Leo. I can’t even swat a fly, or a wasp—or a mosquito! And I definitely can’t kill a human being—or my beloved, lovely Leo!”
“But you did,” Alec pointed out. “And all we need to know is why. But even so, you’re still going to be convicted of this crime, Gabriel, so you might as well talk.”
“Oh, God,” said Gabriel, and thumped his head on the table.
“Hey, Gabriel, hey, hey, hey,” said Alec, realizing he might have taken this bad cop routine too far. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay? I’m sorry.”
Chase arched his eyebrows. ‘You’re the worst bad cop in the history of bad cops,’ his expression seemed to say.
“Listen, buddy,” said Alec, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll investigate further, all right? But it’s not looking too good for you, you do see that, right?”
Gabriel lifted his head from the table, a big red welt on his forehead. It contrasted nicely with the pallor of the rest of his face. “It doesn’t look too good for me,” he repeated automatically, then added, “Someone is trying to frame me, Chief. There’s no other possibility.”