by Nic Saint
“Yeah, we’ve got to put that cat in his place by showing him how things are done around here,” said Dooley. “We have to catch that killer.”
But Odelia shook her head. “I’d like to help you, guys, but so far I have no clue. And I’m starting to think we haven’t scratched the surface yet.”
“The surface of what?” asked Dooley.
“Of the elephant,” I muttered. Then, louder, I said, “Just follow the money. Isn’t that how you solve a murder in the first place?”
“Care to explain yourself, Sherlock?” asked Odelia, amused.
“I mean, why do humans kill humans? It’s not like with us cats, to eat them, right?”
“Not unless your name is Hannibal Lecter,” she admitted.
“They kill for revenge, or love, or money,” I quickly summed up. “And people like Johnny, who are loaded to the eyeballs, are obvious targets. So who stood to gain most from his death? Who’s getting the Benjamins, baby?”
“Who’s Benjamin?” asked Dooley, confused.
“It’s a figure of speech,” I told him. “I mean, who gets the money?”
Odelia gave me an appreciative look. “You know, you’d make a pretty good cop, Max. You, too, Dooley. And because you guys worked so hard today, I got you a special treat.”
I exchanged an excited glance with Dooley. We were all for treats, especially after traipsing around town all day. So we both hopped down to the floor, and next thing we knew she’d set down a plate with two chicken wings and we found ourselves staring at them, a little disappointed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought you loved chicken wings?”
“Oh, we do,” I assured her.
“It’s just that…” Dooley began.
“We tasted some of Johnny’s food this morning.”
“And it was so good, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Yeah, just about the best stuff I’ve ever tasted.”
Odelia frowned. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was it?”
“Pâté,” we said in unison, and Odelia laughed.
“You guys,” she said, “you know I can’t afford that stuff on my measly salary. If you want to have pâté every day you’re going to have to find yourselves another human. One who’s as rich as John Paul George.”
Dooley and I exchanged a glance again, and we both shrugged.
“Nah, that’s all right,” I said.
“Yeah, I think we’ll stick around,” said Dooley.
“Pâté is great,” I explained.
“But a great human like you is better,” Dooley finished the sentence.
She laughed again. “What a relief. I almost thought I’d have to look for other cats.” She checked on her cake again and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m baking a cake for Chase Kingsley of all people.”
“Love is in the air,” I sang.
“Everywhere you look around,” Dooley chimed in.
We’d been rehearsing the song during our nocturnal cat choir practice sessions, and it almost sounded like the original. Only a lot more howly.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” she grumbled.
She leaned against the counter, frown firmly in place again. “Follow the money, huh? Who gets to benefit the most from Johnny’s death?”
“Johnny’s family,” I suggested.
“And Jasper,” said Dooley.
“And Bryony Pistol,” said Odelia.
“Huh? Who?” I asked.
“Johnny’s wife. Apparently Johnny never divorced her.”
“I didn’t know Johnny had a wife,” I said.
“Nobody did. Though I’m pretty sure by now my uncle does.”
“We better ask Brutus what he knows,” I said. “He’s been glued to the police station all day. Maybe he picked up something we missed.”
“Let’s ask Harriet,” Dooley suggested. “Brutus won’t tell us a thing.”
“Well, he’s probably right. We wouldn’t tell him anything either.”
“You guys, why don’t you kiss and make up with Brutus already?” asked Odelia. “Hasn’t this feud between you gone on long enough?”
“Why don’t you and Chase kiss and make up?” I threw back.
She blinked. “It’s complicated,” she admitted.
“Well, our relationship with Brutus is complicated too.”
“Very complicated,” Dooley said somberly.
“Why don’t I talk to Chase about Brutus again?” Odelia suggested.
“That would be great,” I said. “Just tell him to get rid of the brute. I’m sure there’s plenty of room at the animal shelter.”
“Or just donate him to charity,” said Dooley, perking up slightly.
She laughed. “I doubt Chase will go for it. But I will talk to him.”
Dooley put his head on his paws again. It was obvious that ‘talking to Chase’ wasn’t going to cut it. The guy obviously held no sway over his cat.
Fifteen minutes later, the cake was ready, and Odelia took it out of the oven and walked it across the yard to her parents’ yard. We followed her, even though we should probably have that nap now. But duty called.
Over at Marge and Tex’s, everything was set for dinner, and Uncle Alec and Chase were already chatting up a storm with their hosts. They were all seated out on the deck, where dinner was going to be served. No sense in being cooped up inside when the weather was this nice. Two other guests that had arrived were Brutus and Harriet, who were lying on the porch swing Odelia’s dad had installed a couple of weeks ago. They looked like two lovers in heat, and Dooley muttered, “Max, I can’t do this. I’m going home.”
“No, you’re not,” I said, stopping him with my paw. “The worst thing we can do right now is show Brutus that he’s won. We need to stand firm, Dooley. We need to show he’s just a guest, and we’re masters of our home.”
He sighed. “Why do I have the impression he’s not buying any of that?”
“Because he’s hard of hearing,” I said. “All we need to do is yell harder.”
I walked up to Brutus and Harriet, and jumped up to join them on the love seat. Dooley, meanwhile, decided to remain on the ground, staring up at the three of us gloomily.
“Hey, Brutus,” I said, trying to sound like a master of my own home. “So have you cracked this case yet?”
“Not yet,” he admitted with a smug smile. “But I’m getting there.”
“That’s great,” I said. “So you’re close to catching the killer, huh?”
“I’m almost ready to reveal his identity, yes,” said Brutus.
Harriet, who’d been licking her fur—that kind of snowy white coat takes a lot of licks to keep looking so nice and shiny—sighed wistfully. “Brutus is so clever, Max. He’s listened to all the interviews Chief Alec and Chase did today, and he’s drawn a most fascinating conclusion. He’s really nailed it.”
“You did, huh?” I asked. “Well, to be honest I expected nothing less from you, Brutus. You are a policeman’s cat, after all. A true detective.”
“Glad you’re finally seeing things my way, Maxie, baby,” he sneered.
“Oh, but I certainly do,” I assured him. “It’s just that us country bumpkins need more time to figure things out than you slick city cats.”
“See?” he asked, addressing Harriet. “I told you those two morons would see the light. All right,” he said now. “I don’t see why I can’t tell you. I know for a fact now that there wasn’t just one killer. They were all in it together.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Come again?”
“Don’t you see?” he asked. “All those boy toys—”
“Or toy boys,” Harriet supplied.
“Whatever. They’re all in this together, see?”
I was reluctant to admit I didn’t see, so I just goggled at him.
“They were all sick and tired of having to compete for the attention of the johnny up top, so they decided to do away with Johnny once and for all.”
“I,
um… I’m speechless,” I admitted.
“Come on!” he said. “You see it all the time. Humans can only be humiliated by another human for so long, until they start fighting back. Just think of Caesar being killed by his senators. Or all those assassination attempts on Hitler’s life.”
“What have Caesar and Hitler have to do with John Paul George?”
“Everything! Johnny was lording over these guys. They were like his slaves, and slaves will always rise up against their oppressors. These boys were sick and tired of having to perform these… services, night after night. I mean, Johnny wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt. The guy was fat and ugly, and not much fun to please. So they finally decided to whack the guy. They all got together and devised a plan and swore a sacred oath never to tell a soul.”
“Like a conspiracy, huh?”
“Exactly! And since they all swore to keep the secret, there’s no way Chase or the Chief are ever going to find out what happened.” He grinned. “But I’m on to them. Listening to their testimonies convinced me they’re hiding something. And I’m going to reveal their secret. Me! Brutus!”
“They might be hiding the fact that they’re all working as escorts,” I pointed out. “Which isn’t something they want their families to know.”
“No, they’re all in this one big conspiracy to kill their oppressor,” Brutus insisted, “and I’m going to reveal the truth to Chase very soon now.”
Dooley, who’d been staring up at Brutus throughout this long harangue, now swallowed. “Cats rising up to kill their oppressor, huh? I like it.”
“Not cats,” Brutus corrected him lazily. “Boy toys.”
“Or toy boys,” said Harriet.
“Whatever. Boys deciding to stick it to the man. Make him pay for what he did to them. Finally end the era of oppression and humiliation.”
There was a strange fire in Dooley’s eyes, and I could see that Brutus’s words had made a great impact on him. Suddenly I saw why. Killing Brutus, that slightly feverish look on Dooley’s face said, that is what we should do.
I shot him a warning glance, but he simply waggled his eyebrows.
“So where did those boys get the poison?” I asked Brutus.
He waved a careless paw. “Those are minor details. I’m sure that you’ll find that one of those guys had access to a stash of spider venom. Slipping some of it into Johnny’s vial would have been a piece of cake.”
“Maybe one of those boys is Australian,” said Harriet.
“Good thinking, toots,” said Brutus. He pointed at Harriet. “Smart as a whip, this one. Australian spider venom? The Australian boy toy did it.”
“Or toy boy,” said Harriet, putting her head on Brutus’s shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Dooley, who’d been Harriet’s number one admirer from the first, looked pained. To watch the cat you’ve loved for so long being reduced to playing second fiddle was definitely painful to watch, and even more for him.
Maybe there was something in Dooley’s idea, as he now stared at me imploringly. I finally rolled my eyes and nodded. Maybe there was merit in this. If we couldn’t get rid of Brutus the easy way, maybe we simply had to kill him. And that’s how Operation Kill Brutus was born. Out of Dooley’s love for Harriet, and my exasperation with the brute. Suddenly mixing some little-known exotic poison in the cat’s food didn’t sound all that far-fetched.
We might not have been Brutus’s boy toys—or toy boys—but we were cats being oppressed by a brutal, well, oppressor, and ready to rise up. Now all we needed to do was find one of those Australian funnel-web spiders and convince him to loan us some of his venom. How hard could that be?
Chapter 14
“So, Chase,” said Odelia, once they were all seated at the dinner table. “When are you going to find yourself a place of your own?”
He gave her a level gaze. “Why, do you have a suggestion for me?”
“Chase will find a place when he’s good and ready,” said Mom. “In the meantime he’s happy to stay with Alec, isn’t that right, Alec?”
“Sure,” said the Chief, ladling more mashed potatoes onto his plate and adding a good helping of gravy. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like, Chase, I already told you that.”
“Thanks, Chief,” said Chase warmly, and popped a meatball into his mouth. “These meatballs are just great, Marge.”
“Thanks,” said Mom. “But it’s actually my mother you should thank, Detective. She rolled them, isn’t that right, Mom?”
Gran, who was still looking a little hyped up, nodded. “That’s right. They’re my specialty. Always had a keen interest in meatballs, if you catch my drift.” At this, she directed a look so lascivious at Chase, Odelia almost groaned in embarrassment. Dad had given her a quick checkup, and had said there was no danger. That the effects of the drug would wear off pretty soon. Apart from occasional hot flashes and a sense of euphoria, she’d be just fine. What he hadn’t said was that she was going to be horny as heck. Which Odelia should probably have realized, cause that was exactly the reason John Paul George had been so fond of this particular substance.
“Yeah, you’ve got some amazing balls, Vesta,” Dad said, oblivious.
“I know,” said Gran, “and I’m not the only one.” Once again, she shot some pretty lewd looks in Chase’s direction. To his credit, the cop decided to steer the conversation to safer waters and away from the meatball theme.
“The reason I haven’t found a place yet is because this town has some pretty expensive real estate,” he said now.
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Dad. “Lots of folks have decided to profit from the boom by turning their houses into B & Bs and the rest have been snapped up by tourists. Hard to find something reasonably priced nowadays. Unless you’re handy with tools? There’s always a fixer-upper you can find, Chase.”
“Oh, I’ll bet he’s real handy with his tools,” said Gran, licking her lips.
“Well, I am,” said Chase, after giving Gran a bemused look. “But not handy enough to fix up an entire house, I’m afraid.”
“You’ll find something,” said Uncle Alec. “Until then mi casa es su casa.”
“So have you made any progress on the JPG case yet?” asked Mom.
“Yeah, do you think you’ve got the right guy in custody?” asked Dad.
“Well, I’m still leaning toward Jasper,” said Uncle Alec. “I really like him as a suspect. He had opportunity—he knew exactly which vial was Johnny’s and he could easily have slipped in that venom—and he sure had motive, from what I can tell. And let’s not forget that his fingerprints were all over that vial.”
“Too bad,” said Dad with a shake of his head. “I’ve gotten to like the guy. I would never have pegged him for a killer. Not in a million years.”
“Sometimes it’s the ones you least suspect,” said the Chief.
“So what was his motive?” asked Dad. “Why did he do it?”
“The obvious one: money. He was slowly being edged out of Johnny’s inner circle and that mustn’t have sat well with him. It was only a matter of time before Johnny was going to ask him to pack his bags and clear out, and that would have been the end of his cushy life.”
“But he’s not going to inherit much, is he?” asked Odelia.
“He stands to inherit plenty,” said Uncle Alec. “I talked to Johnny’s lawyer and he said Jasper gets the house and a monthly allowance. That’s plenty of motive right there. Plenty of folks would kill for a deal like that.”
“But what about the bulk of the estate?” asked Odelia. “Who gets that?”
“Ah, now there’s something interesting,” said the Chief, wiping his lips on his napkin and placing it next to his plate.
“The wife,” said Chase. “She gets the whole kit and caboodle.”
Odelia noticed the detective didn’t seem happy about it for some reason.
“We didn’t even know there was a wife, did we, Chase?” asked the Chief.
&nb
sp; “We sure didn’t,” he said, in the same subdued way.
“Not only was Johnny still married, Mrs. George inherits all.”
“So what about Johnny’s six sisters?” asked Odelia. She’d read somewhere that Johnny had no less than six sisters, who lived in England.
“Whose sexy sisters?” asked Gran, confused.
“They’ll get their share,” the Chief confirmed, ignoring his mother, “but compared to what the wife gets that’s just chump change.”
“I knew about the wife,” said Mom. “I didn’t know she was still in the picture, though. She must be happy after the sacrifices she made.”
“Sacrifices?” asked Chase.
“Yes, Mom told me that Bryony spent a fortune launching Johnny’s career,” said Odelia.
“Not just a fortune, her entire family’s fortune,” Mom corrected her.
“So I guess it’s only fair she gets to recuperate it,” Odelia said.
“So this wife,” Dad said. “This… Bryony…”
“Pistol,” Mom supplied.
“A real pistol,” Gran murmured inexplicably, munching on a meatball.
“This Bryony Pistol,” Dad continued. “Have you talked to her? Maybe she’s got what you detectives call, um, means, motive and opportunity?” He smiled apologetically. “You can tell I’m not the sleuth in this family.”
“We’re going to interview her first thing tomorrow morning,” said the Chief. He gave Chase a quick glance. “That is to say, I’m going to talk to her.”
Odelia frowned at this. “Why not Chase?”
“There’s a hitch,” Chase said. “Turns out Bryony Pistol has a daughter—”
“Veronica George,” the Chief said.
“—who filed a restraining order against me some time ago.”
They all stared at him, stunned. “What do you mean?” asked Odelia.
Uncle Alec cleared his throat. “Talk about a small world, huh? Turns out Johnny’s little girl, who’s not so little anymore, used to date the scumbag you arrested today. Orville Haggis. Orville isn’t his real name, though. He goes by the name Rubb. Donovan Rubb.”