by Nic Saint
She rolled her eyes. She was so not having this conversation right now. “I’m sure that Detective Kingsley doesn’t even like me, Gran, much less wants to pursue me.”
“Pursue you? What is this? A Jane Austin novel? I may be old, honey, but I’m not that old. Nowadays girls can pursue boys, you know. Trust me, if I’d waited for your grandfather to ‘pursue me’ I’d still be waiting. No, you go and get that man before someone else snaps him up.” She gave her a wink. “Or before I snap him up, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, Gran. It’s pretty obvious.” And distasteful. “Look, both Detective Kingsley and I are professionals, and we like to keep our relationship on a strictly professional level. We work together occasionally and getting… involved would only make things complicated.”
Even though Chase still resented a reporter butting in on his investigation, they’d actually cracked a case together a couple of weeks ago, and even this morning, when she’d saved him from that cockatoo, there had been a sense of kinship between them. Strictly professional kinship, that was.
Gran shook her head. “Youth is definitely wasted on the young, take it from me. If I were you—”
“Well, you’re not. Now if you could just tell Dad I’m here…”
“I’m giving you dibs on that hottie, but I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer, you hear?” asked Gran while she picked up the phone. “And I’m only giving you first shot because you’re family.”
“Thanks, Gran. That’s very generous of you.”
“And don’t you give me that professional relationship bull, either. I know you’ve got the hots for that guy. I’ve seen the way you look at him. I may be old but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight.”
“Just… give me Dad,” she said through gritted teeth, and snatched the phone from her grandmother’s hands. “Yes, hi, Dad. I need to ask you something real quick. Can I come in?”
And as she went in, Gran gave her a wink. “When you see him, say hi to Chase from me, will you? Just to make sure he knows I’m still in the running, in case you drop out of the race.”
“Sure, Gran. I’ll tell him my grandmother is lusting after him.”
“And tell him to keep up the workouts. I like my buns nice and tight.”
She entered her dad’s office and nodded a greeting to Mrs. Baumgartner. The old lady was in all the time, more out of habit than because something was ailing her. Her father quickly took her into the next examination room. “Make it quick, honey,” he said, taking off his glasses and polishing them. “Mrs. Baumgartner was just about to show me her bunion.”
In a few words she told him what had happened to Johnny.
He shook his head. “I warned him about this. Overdose, huh?”
“No, it looks like he was poisoned. At least according to the coroner.”
Her dad’s eyes widened. “Murder? That’s terrible. He was such a great guy. Very down to earth and with a great sense of humor, too.”
“So you knew him?”
“Well, he had his regular physician, a concierge doctor working out of Southampton, but I sometimes covered for him when he was on vacation. I know his boyfriend a lot better, of course. Jasper used to be my patient for years, before he started to go to Johnny’s physician. Great kid, Jasper.”
“Uncle Alec actually thinks Jasper might have done it. His fingerprints were on the vial of GHB that Johnny took. The one containing the venom.”
“Impossible,” said her dad, shaking his head decidedly. “Jasper wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, he loved that man dearly. They were a lovely couple.”
It cemented her decision to look beyond Jasper and try to find who else might have had access to the vial and might have doctored it. “Dad, this is important. Do you have any idea who Johnny’s supplier of GHB was?”
Dad gave her a look of surprise. “How on earth would I know that? I’m a doctor, not a drug dealer, honey.”
“No, but you’re…” She hesitated, gesturing at the medicine cabinet in a corner of the room. “Plugged in.”
He laughed. “I see. You think we’re all in the same business, huh?”
“Well… I just thought you might have heard something.”
He thought for a moment. “There have been a lot of rumors swirling around about that health food store that opened at the mall a couple of months ago. People talk, you know, and I’ve been told by several of my patients that the owner of that store supplies his customers with more than just herbs and vitamins, if you catch my drift. In fact I think I saw his van pull up at Johnny’s place just when I was leaving last month. Coincidence?”
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
“So sad about Johnny,” he said as they walked back into his office. “He was a very sweet man. You find out who did this, all right?”
“I will, Dad,” she said.
“Oh, and be careful,” he said. “This drug thing is a nasty business.”
That was true enough. It had already claimed the life of one man and had landed another man in jail, possibly innocent. A very nasty business indeed.
Chapter 7
After sitting in on a few interviews, Dooley and I’d had enough, so we hopped down from the windowsill and made to leave. Brutus, who had been an attentive guest throughout, along with Harriet, seemed to find our retreat funny, for he scoffed, “Leaving already, boys? Talk about lack of stamina!”
“We know when we’ve seen it all,” I said.
“Well, I’m sticking around,” he announced. “It’s only starting to get good.” And he returned his attention to the room behind the window, where Chase was interviewing one of what seemed like hundreds of escorts Johnny had gone through in the weeks leading up to his death. You could say whatever you wanted about the guy, but not that he didn’t have the stamina Brutus was referring to. In spite of his age, he’d been up all night every night, partying like there was no tomorrow and entertaining up to a dozen men.
“I wonder how much of his behavior was Johnny and how much the drugs he took,” I said as we started toward the patch of lawn in front of the police station. An American flag waved over a small plaque reminding Hampton Cove that here resided the long arm of the law. Though Uncle Alec’s arms weren’t really all that long, he was doing a great job interviewing a long line of witnesses testifying to Johnny’s daily and nightly habits. It was obvious that the so-called recluse hadn’t been all that reclusive after all.
“I think it was the drugs,” said Dooley. “No man can be that voracious and that…” He struggled to find the right word.
“Enduring?” I supplied.
“Yeah. It’s almost a miracle how enduring the guy was.”
“I think the right word is addicted. The guy was simply addicted to sex.”
“Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Talk about a walking cliché.”
We padded along the sidewalk, wondering where to go from there. Chief Alec and Chase had interviewed dozens of young men and the picture of Johnny that emerged was clear: each day he’d call the agency to send him a selection of boys, all sharing the same traits. They had to be young, handsome and buff. The agency would make a selection and send over a dozen candidates. The first part of the evening would consist of Johnny entertaining them with his old video clips displayed on a big screen, and there would be lots of drinking and eating going on. As a dessert, drugs would be passed around like candy. They’d smoke pot, get high on coke and G, and things would heat up considerably. By the time midnight rolled around, the scene would look like something straight out of Caligula. The long version.
At some point Johnny would pick the boy whose exploits had impressed him the most, and invite him up to his room to spend the night. Throughout these wild parties there would be no trace of Jasper, either because he’d refuse to leave his private quarters—apparently Johnny and Jasper occupied separate wings—or he’d have stormed off after yet another row with Johnny.
>
Chico Fletcher, boy toy of the month, hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary last night. But then he’d been pretty high on illegal substances. He also didn’t have a motive to harm Johnny, especially seeing as he’d been hoping to replace Jasper as Johnny’s new queen. You can’t become queen of a dead man, so Chico was very disappointed with the way things had turned out. All he had to show for his efforts were the exorbitant fees he’d been paid.
So far the only one with an obvious motive was still Jasper, who remained firmly in the picture as the most likely suspect in the murder.
“So who do you think did it?” I asked Dooley.
“The butler, of course,” said Dooley, then laughed loudly at his own joke.
“Hey, you guys!” suddenly a voice sounded behind us. “Wait up!”
She sounded a lite out of breath, as if she’d been running, and when we both turned in surprise, we saw we’d been joined by none other than Harriet.
I checked around, but could see no trace of Brutus. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I asked.
She made a gesture with her tail. “Still glued to the police station window.” She rolled her eyes. “If I have to listen to one more boy toy talking about how hot and sexy John Paul George was I’m going to be sick.”
We walked along the pavement together, and Dooley asked, “So how’s Brutus’s investigation going?”
“Very well, thank you, Dooley. I think Brutus has a definite lead on the killer, and it won’t be long before he shares his observations with Chase.”
I gave her a sideways glance. “You do know that Brutus can’t talk to his owner, right?”
“Of course I know, silly,” she said. “But he’s promised me he’ll fix that.”
“By using sign language?” I asked. “No, seriously though. How does he hope to find the killer and help the investigation? He’s a policeman’s cat, not a police cat. There’s a difference.”
That was the rub right there: just because you were the cat of a policeman that didn’t magically transfer the man’s sleuthing powers to you. Dooley and I had been doing this with Odelia for a very long time, so we knew how to proceed. Brutus was a complete newbie at this sleuthing business, though, and I’m sure that Harriet knew this but was too proud to admit it.
“Hey, I know what you’re doing,” said Dooley now.
“I’m walking along the street with my friends, that’s what I’m doing,” said Harriet.
“No, you’re not. You’re spying on us. Brutus doesn’t know which way to turn so he instructed you to spy on us and hope to find out what we know.”
“That’s just ridiculous,” she said primly. “You know as well as I do that all I want is for us to be friends, just like in the old days.”
“Only that will never happen if you keep hanging out with Brutus,” I said.
“Oh, God, you’re being melodramatic again, you two,” said Harriet. “Can’t you simply accept that Brutus is part of the gang now?”
“Never,” I said adamantly.
“No way,” Dooley agreed.
“You guys,” she said, sounding exasperated, “Brutus is a really nice cat, once you get to know him. In fact he’s just great. He’s strong and generous and sweet and caring… He’s a great friend. He really is.”
“A friend who likes to tell us what to do, where to go, who we can and cannot meet? That doesn’t sound like a nice cat to me. More like a despot.”
“Brutus is simply set in his ways,” Harriet argued. “I’m sure that if you give him time, he’ll come around to the way we do things around here. You have to remember he’s a big city cat, and they do things different over there.”
“Oh, I’ll say they do,” said Dooley.
We walked on in silence for a moment. Even in spite of Harriet’s recent betrayal, it still felt good to be just the three of us again, just like old times, and I could sense that Dooley, too, was secretly glad that Harriet was trying to be our friend again. This whole Brutus business had hit him hard.
“So what do we do now?” asked Harriet. “What’s our next move?”
Dooley’s eyebrows rose at her use of the term ‘we’. “We were just going over to the general store, to see what the word on the street is,” he said.
“Yeah, we wanted to pick Kingman’s brain. See what he has to say.”
Kingman was the cat of Wilbur Vickery, owner of Vickery General Store on Main Street, and a great source of information on what was happening in this town and what people were talking about. Along with the barbershop and the doctor’s office, the store was among our favorite places to hang out.
Kingman slept all day on Wilbur’s counter, and even though it looked like he was out of it, he was actually acutely aware of everything that went on around him, which made him such a great source of information.
“Good idea,” said Harriet cheerfully. “Let’s go talk to Kingman.”
I had my qualms about Harriet being an agent for the enemy, like Dooley had said, but decided to let her tag along anyway. It would have been sad to have to send her away, especially as she’d been our friend for as long as the three of us had been alive on this planet. I guess I was just being sentimental.
Chapter 8
We arrived at the general store, and walked straight in through the open door. As usual, Kingman was asleep on his high perch on the counter, while Wilbur was busily ringing up his customers.
“Psst, hey, Kingman,” I said.
The spreading piebald opened one lazy eye and stared down at us, then acknowledged our presence by grunting, “Meet me outside in five.”
We did as we were told and trooped out again, staking out a spot next to the display table full of fruits and vegetables. Five minutes later, Kingman came trotting out. “Wilbur doesn’t like it when the place is full of cats,” he said, quite surprisingly.
“Why?” I asked. “He’s never had a problem with cats before.”
“There’s been a spate of thefts lately,” said Kingman, “and he suspects cats are involved. I’ve been trying to catch them but they’re pretty sneaky.”
“Well, we would never steal anything,” said Dooley.
“You stole an entire bowl of pâté this morning,” I reminded him.
“That was different.”
“How was that different? You cleaned out Princess’s bowl. I saw you.”
“Princess? Who’s Princess?” asked Harriet.
“Just some cat,” said Dooley vaguely.
“John Paul George’s cat.”
“And you cleaned out her bowl?” asked Harriet.
“We were guests,” said Dooley. “Guests are allowed to eat a host’s food.”
“Not when you’re not invited, you’re not,” I said.
“We were invited.”
“How were we invited? The host was dead. You can’t be invited by a dead host.”
Dooley rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You ate from all the bowls.”
I shrugged. “I was hungry. If I don’t eat I get cranky.”
“All right, all right, all right,” said Kingman now. “Settle down, you guys. It’s not stealing if the food’s out there in the open, all right?”
“See?” asked Dooley. “I wasn’t stealing. I was just sampling.”
“An entire bowl?” I asked. “That’s not sampling. That’s gobbling.”
“Who’s Princess?” Harriet asked again. “Have I met her?”
“No, you haven’t,” I said. “She’s one of Johnny’s dozen cats.”
Harriet gave Dooley a curious look. “So why did you eat her food?”
“It was pâté, all right?” cried Dooley. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Actual pâté?” asked Kingman, interested.
“Yeah, the expensive kind,” Dooley said. “To die for, I swear.”
“It was pretty good,” I conceded.
“Pretty good? It was the best food I’ve ever tasted.”
“So what does this Princess look like?” asked Harriet.
“Can we just talk about the dead guy now?” I asked. I was already regretting having started this whole thing about the pâté. If you’re going to accuse someone of stealing, you better make sure you haven’t stolen the stuff yourself, I now discovered. It kinda destroys your moral superiority.
“Yeah, what about that, huh?” asked Kingman with a shake of the head. “A regular murder in Hampton Cove. What’s the world coming to?”
“So you heard about that?” asked Dooley. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Kingman always knew everything that was going on in this town.
“The mayor’s wife came in early this morning to buy plums to make plum pie, and she’d heard it from her husband who’d heard it from the Chief that the body of John Paul George was found floating face down in his pool.”
“News sure travels fast,” said Harriet, still studying Dooley.
“It sure does,” said Kingman with a grin. Like most cats in Hampton Cove he had a thing for Harriet, who was pretty much the prettiest cat for miles around. Except for Princess, maybe, which was probably why Harriet was so curious to find out more about her. Keep an eye on the competition.
“Any idea who did it?” asked Dooley.
“I could ask you the same thing. You were out there, weren’t you? One of Johnny’s cats strolled by here before. Said you were all over their place.”
“We only know what we saw,” said Dooley. “JPG in the pool. Poisoned.”
I gave him a warning look. Even though the story about Johnny’s death by poisoning would spread through town fast, there was no need to help it along. At least not until Odelia had written her article and got the scoop.
“Poisoned, huh?” asked Kingman, his furry face puckering up in surprise. “Now there’s something I didn’t know. Are you sure about this?”
Dooley stared at me and I shook my head. “Nah,” he said. “We, um…”
“It’s just a rumor that’s going around,” said Harriet, coming to his aid.
“And who do they think did it?” asked Kingman now.