by Nic Saint
“Brutus,” Harriet said as she headed for the door. “Are you coming?”
Brutus directed a longing look at the kitchen, where my bowl of Cat Snax stood.
“Brutus! I’m not going to tell you twice!”
The former bully hung his head and shuffled out the door, his proud spirit broken.
“You know? I’m actually feeling sorry for the guy,” said Dooley, watching him leave.
“Me too. Who would have thought Harriet could turn into the cat from hell?”
“I did,” Dooley said ruefully. “She once accused me of being a spineless yellow-belly.”
“But why?”
“For not standing up to you more.”
“To me!”
He nodded. “She figured you treated me more like a slave than a friend sometimes, and told me to rise up and not take any more of your crap.”
“Why, the little minx! Trying to drive a wedge through our friendship!”
“You have been kind of insufferable lately, though, Max. So maybe Harriet had a point.”
“Insufferable? Me? Are you crazy?!”
Dooley winced. “I think it’s the diet. It makes you cranky.”
“I’m never cranky! I’m the picture of equanimity and poise!”
“I don’t know what that means, but you have to admit you have a pretty short fuse these days. I love you, Max, but it’s tough being your friend when you’re hungry.”
I thought about this. Maybe Dooley was right. I did get pretty cranky when I was hungry, and I did have a tendency to take it out on others. I gave him a rueful look. “I’m sorry, buddy. I guess you’re right. I don’t like feeling hungry, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“That’s all right. I don’t like being hungry either. I guess none of us do.”
I plunked my head down on my paws. “I know one thing, Dooley.”
“What’s that?”
“Dieting sucks.”
“Well, at least the case is solved. I’m sure Odelia will lighten up now.”
“Yeah, at least there’s that.”
From beyond our garden, Harriet’s high-pitched voice reached our ears.
“Brutus! I told you not to eat that mouse!”
“But I like mice!” Brutus said plaintively. “They’re full of proteins.”
“Too many saturated fats! Now come along. Time for our power walk. Work off that fat!”
I shared a look with Dooley, and we both shook our heads. “Poor Brutus,” I said.
Chapter 26
“I can’t believe she’s dead,” Zelda wailed. The effect of whatever she’d been on had worn off by now, and she finally seemed to realize what she’d done.
Chase and Odelia were sitting across the table from the actress, whose hands were shackled down. Odelia directed a pleading look at Chase, who took the keys to her cuffs out of his pocket and released the woman.
“She was my best friend!” Zelda continued to wail, gratefully accepting the box of tissues Odelia placed in front of her.
“I thought she was your greatest rival,” said Chase.
“She was—but being the greatest rivals created a bond. After my career tanked, Donna was the only one who cared to look me up. She helped me find an apartment when my money ran out and even paid the rent. She was the only true friend I ever had.”
Now this was news. “So where do you live now?” asked Odelia.
“Long Island City. I moved out here when Donna moved out here.”
“And Donna was paying your rent?”
“She was. Now that she’s gone I guess that’ll be over.”
“Maybe not. Maybe she put a provision in her will for you.”
Zelda looked up hopefully. “You think?”
“Didn’t you ever talk about this kind of stuff?”
She shook her head. “Donna figured we’d live forever. She refused to discuss death. Said if we just ignored it we might be able to cheat it.” She laughed through her tears. “She was a real hoot once you got to know her.”
“What about royalties from your movies?” asked Chase. “You made so many amazing movies. Possibly the best and greatest franchise in the history of cinema.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I can tell you’re a real fan, Detective. But back when I made those movies I wasn’t a star at all. I was just a beginning actress and I signed a lousy deal. I got paid twenty-five grand for the first one, a bit more for the others. The last one netted me three hundred thousand.”
“Not exactly big money.”
“Not exactly. If you subtract taxes, agent fees, social security and all that, there wasn’t a whole lot left. Not enough to retire on, that’s for sure.”
Odelia caught Chase frowning. It was obvious that there was no motive for Zelda to murder Donna. Not if she stood to lose her benefactor. The woman who’d helped her out all these years.
“Are you sure you don’t remember where you were yesterday morning, Zelda?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I get these memory lapses. I’ll lose hours at a time.”
It wasn’t hard to figure out why that was. Officers had found Zelda’s abandoned car a mile from Donna’s house, the door open. Inside, they’d discovered enough weed to supply a small colony. And the smoking thing Dooley and Max had seen her use inside the house wasn’t incense but Zelda’s bong, which explained the pungent odor that had permeated the house.
“Did Donna also finance your marijuana habit?” she asked.
The woman’s eyes widened. “Marijuana? I don’t have a marijuana habit.”
“Come on, Zelda,” said Chase. “We found your car. And your stash.”
She sobered. “That’s for medicinal purposes only. I have allergies.”
“Pot helps with allergies?”
“Pot helps with everything,” she said with a lazy grin. “I could actually use some right now. Can you hook me up?”
“Are you really asking a cop to hook you up with drugs?” asked Chase.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a trick question?”
He turned to Odelia. “Can I talk to you outside?”
They both left the room. “I don’t think she did it,” said Chase once they were alone.
“You’re only saying that because she’s your hero.”
He pointed at the woman behind the one-way mirror. “Do you seriously want me to believe that wreck of a human being had the presence of mind to steal a hive of bees, then execute the perfect crime? She doesn’t even remember how she got to Donna’s house in the first place. Not to mention the fact that Donna paid her rent and who knows what else.”
“I was just kidding. I don’t think she did it either.”
“Oh, Christ!” Chase yelled, fisting his fingers in his hair and pulling. “Back to square one!”
“Looks like it,” Odelia confessed. She studied Zelda for a moment, who was now making finger guns and pretending to shoot at the ceiling. Probably reenacting one of the stunts she’d done without a stunt double on the set of Star Cars. “We’ll just have to keep on digging,” she finally said.
“We got the analysis back on some tire tracks we found behind Donna’s house.”
“And?”
“Toyota Tacoma. We’re putting together a list of Tacoma owners. It might take a while.”
She nodded. Good old-fashioned police work. Chase was an ace at that kind of thing, and so was her uncle. She depended more on her instincts, her cats and… sheer luck. She rubbed her eyes.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he suggested. “You look beat.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. I could use a few more hours. What about you?”
He smiled. “I’m one of those Star Cars dudes, babe. We don’t need sleep, only stardust.”
She leaned in for a kiss, and that’s when something started vibrating in her pocket. Chase reached down and took it out. It was a small black plastic thing, shaped like a rocket. With an expert hand, he switched it off and tucked it back into he
r pocket, then cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her.
She blushed. “I’m one of those Star Rig gals, babe. We don’t need guys, only batteries.”
He stroked a finger along her cheek, and huskily said, “Whenever you change your mind about that, you know where to find me.”
Chapter 27
Odelia had dropped by the house, announcing that we weren’t out of the woods yet. The case, which we’d assumed closed, was still wide open, Zelda Yoke not the cunning killer we’d pegged her as. Bummer. Harriet, returning from her power walk with Brutus, was ecstatic, though.
“I knew it!” she yelled. “I just knew it! No way Max and Dooley caught the killer.”
“Why is it so hard to believe we would catch the killer?” I asked, feeling a little offended.
“Because you’re boys,” said Harriet with amazing lack of logic and reason. “Come on, Brutus. We’re leaving.”
“But we just got here!” the big, black cat cried. He was lying spread-eagle on the floor, trying to catch his breath.
“And now we’re leaving. We have a killer to catch and no time to waste!”
And just when I thought she was going to hit the street and pound the pavement, just like any old-fashioned detective, she hopped up on Odelia’s computer table and fired up the computer. With a grunt of despair, Brutus hauled himself up from the floor and shuffled after his ladylove. Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered, “Never get married, fellas. Don’t do it.” And then he joined Harriet at the computer, ready for another few hours of surfing the web.
Odelia, who’d taken a shower and looked more human when she returned downstairs, said, “Are you guys coming?”
“Nah-uh,” said Harriet without looking up from her no doubt strenuous activity. “We’re busy trying to find the killer, Odelia. Isn’t that right, sugar-pop?”
“Whatever you say, snuggle-cup,” said Brutus, having trouble keeping his eyes open.
Odelia stared at the twosome, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something, but then she seemed to think better of it. She turned to us. “What about you guys? Are you coming?”
“Yes, please,” I said. Anything to get away from Harriet, who was in a particularly annoying mood today.
We rode in Odelia’s pickup to the office, where she dropped us off. “Don’t wander off too far,” she warned as she locked the car. “And remember about your diet, Max. Don’t fall off the wagon.”
“I won’t,” I promised her. We watched her disappear into the offices of the Hampton Cove Gazette and then set foot down the street.
“So where are we going?” asked Dooley.
“Why don’t we pay a visit to Kingman?” I suggested. “We haven’t seen that cat in a while.”
Kingman is Wilbur Vickery’s piebald. Wilbur runs the General Store and sells pretty much everything the grown cat needs—and the grown human, for that matter. Dooley must have seen right through me, for he said, “We’re just gathering information, right? Not food?”
“Of course! How can you even think about food at a time like this? We have a killer to catch, Dooley, and if we’re ever going to beat Harriet at her own game, we need to move fast.”
“You don’t really think Harriet is ever going to catch the killer by spending time on that computer, do you?”
“I think chances of that happening are slim to none.”
We padded over to the Vickery General Store, and found Kingman, perched on the counter, keeping his human company as usual. When he saw us waddling up, he gave us a cheerful salute. “Hey there, fellas. Long time no see. What’s happening in your neck of the woods?”
“Oh, nothing special,” I said, trying to come across as cool and laidback as Kingman himself.
“Max is on a diet,” said Dooley, “and he’s not allowed to eat anything other than diet food. So if you were thinking of feeding him some special snack, think again, because if he doesn’t stop being morbidly obese he’s going to die soon and break Odelia’s heart and I’ll lose my best friend and I don’t think I can take that.” He choked up and both Kingman and I looked at the ragamuffin in surprise.
“Dooley,” I said. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about this dieting thing.”
“I didn’t know either,” he said in a strangled voice. “Not until Harriet said all that stuff about you dying and all. I don’t want you to die, Max. I don’t want to lose my best friend in all the world.”
“I’m not going to die, buddy. I’m as fit as a horse.”
“You’re the size of a horse,” said Kingman. “Dooley is right. You are too fat for your own good.”
I directed a scathing look at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not fat! I have big bones. It runs in the family.”
“You can fool yourself but you can’t fool me,” said Kingman. “You look just about one sausage away from a massive coronary.”
God. If there’s one thing I hate it’s a cat that has no filter, and Kingman is just such a cat. “All right, all right,” I said. “I’ll lose weight. I’ll slim down until I’m as slim as you.”
“Not as easy as it looks,” said Kingman. “My body is my temple. I treat it with respect.”
“Treat your body with respect, Max,” Dooley urged. “If not for yourself, do it for me.”
“I already told you I would do the diet thing,” I said. “And my word is my bond.”
Dooley seemed pleased by this, giving me encouraging pats on the back. “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing the light, Max. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you.”
Ugh. All this sentimentality was seriously getting on my nerves. And then I caught sight of a nice piece of steak that was lying on the floor where someone had dropped it. I looked left. I looked right. Nobody had spotted it. And even without any instigation from me, my paws starting plotting a course to the piece of red steak. I could already feel the texture in my mouth—taste it on my tongue—imagine it sliding down my throat. And I was about to pounce on the delicious morsel when suddenly Dooley entered my field of vision and said, “No, Max. You promised.”
“But it’s red meat! Red meat is good for me!”
“It’s fattening. The last thing you need right now is to fatten up even more.”
“I won’t fatten up,” I told him. “I promise!”
“Eat this and I won’t be your friend anymore,” Dooley said with uncharacteristic severity.
“Huh?”
“I’m not going to stand idly by and watch you eat yourself to death, Max.”
“Well, you don’t have to. You just have to watch me eat that tasty bit of steak.” And I made a move to snap it up, only to be forestalled by Dooley once again.
“Choose, Max. Me or that steak.”
Phew. Tough choice. Still, instinct is instinct, and red meat is red meat, and I would have gobbled the bit of steak if I suddenly hadn’t caught sight of a familiar figure.
“Hey, isn’t that Donna’s CEO Hillary Davies?”
“I’m not going to fall for that, Max. You’re just trying to distract me.”
“No, but it really is. Look, she just ran into Donna’s ex-husband.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. You know me, Max. Nothing gets past me.”
“Oh, and those must be Donna’s kids. Sweetums and Honeychild. Look how Hillary is smiling so sweetly at those kids. It’s obvious she’s crazy about them.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Dooley said, and grabbed the bit of steak between his teeth and devoured it in one go. He swallowed, then turned to where I was looking.
I stared at him, aghast. “Did you just eat my piece of steak?”
“It wasn’t your piece of steak.”
“But you just told me it was fattening.”
He lifted his chin. “I’m your friend, Max. If I have to sacrifice myself for your sake, I will gladly do so.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Eating a perfectly delicious and juicy bit of steak doesn’t sound li
ke much of a sacrifice to me.”
“A friend’s gotta do what a friend’s gotta do.”
And then we both watched as Hillary Davies picked up Sweetums and Honeychild, who turned out to be two adorable apple-cheeked little boys, and hugged them close. Tad Rip watched on with a smile on his face. It was the scene of perfect familial bliss, if not for the fact that it should have been Donna and not her CEO hugging those kids.
“We have to find the killer, Max,” said Dooley, obviously sharing my sentiments.
“Yes, we do,” I said, and never had I been more resolved to put my best paw forward. Watching Dooley swallow down that tasty sliver of steak I had marked for my own might have had something to do with it as well. I was pretty sure that if we caught the killer, Odelia would be more than happy to buy me not just a tiny piece of steak but a complete slice!
Chapter 28
Odelia was feeling restless. She’d written her article—what little she knew about the case at this point—and now there was nothing else to do but go over all the elements again until something jumped out at her that would provide the final clue. That moment when everything clicked into place. And she’d revisited the crime scene in her head and had gone over all the interviews she and Chase had done but still nothing took her to that aha moment she was looking for. Nothing.
Even Max and Dooley were coming up empty, and if Harriet and Brutus had found something online they weren’t telling, which meant Harriet was probably just surfing to all the gossip sites as usual.
She looked up when a deferential cough sounded. Her editor Dan was watching her from the doorway, thoughtfully rubbing his long white beard. “Stuck, kid?” he asked in his smoky voice.
“Yeah, pretty much,” she admitted.
“You know what I do when I get stuck?”
“Have a smoke?”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t smoke, Dan. And I’m not going to start simply because this case doesn’t make sense.”