by Nic Saint
“For once I think you’re right, Max,” Brutus said, his eyes displaying a malevolent gleam. “For once I think you might be right on the money.”
I didn’t like this ‘for once’ nonsense. In my humble opinion I was always right. But I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that ruin the moment. “You have to waltz in there and take back your sweetheart,” I said.
“Wait, what?” asked Dooley.
“You have to simply grab her and plant a big, wet one on her lips and tell her that daddy’s home and no one is going to take her away from you.”
“Um, Max?” Dooley asked. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to squash that little pipsqueak like a bug!” Brutus growled. “I’m going to storm in there and take my girl back from that… that… nincompoop!”
“Well said,” I said, putting my paws together for an impromptu applause.
“And I’m going to do it right now!” Brutus said.
“No time like the present,” I agreed.
“I’m going to bulldoze that crappy cat into the ground!”
“I love the sentiment,” I said with genuine admiration.
And Brutus stalked off. “Watch me going!” he shouted.
“I’m watching you going and I’m inspired!” I shouted back.
Both Dooley and I watched Brutus storm down the hotel steps, into the lobby and out that treacherous revolving door.
“Max!” cried Dooley the moment the big brute was out of earshot. “What have you done?!”
I smiled. “I’ve handled two problems in one stroke of genius, Dooley. I’ve turned an enemy into an ally, and I’ve rid ourselves of this annoying Diego. Don’t congratulate me now. You can do that when all this is over.”
“I’m not going to congratulate you! Brutus was down, and now you’ve gone and boosted him all up again!”
“I know, right. Isn’t it great?”
“No, it’s not! He’s going to kick Diego out of the house.”
“Which is what we want, remember?”
“And then he’s going to turn on us!”
I gave this some thought. “No, he’s not. He’s our friend now.”
“Brutus is nobody’s friend! A cat like that can’t be friends with anybody. He’s like Niklaus Skad. Stepping on people and putting them down makes him feel good. Once he’s done stepping on Diego who do you think he’s going to step on next?”
“Um, nobody? Because he’ll be happy that Diego’s gone and he’s got Harriet back and he’s going to be grateful to his new best friends. Us!”
“No, he’s not! He’s going to keep putting cats down. He’s going to kick us out next!”
“No way. We’re his friends. We stood by his side when he was down and out.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Max. He’s going to feel embarrassed because we saw him when he was down. He’s going to want to take revenge. He’s going to come down harder on us than on anyone else.” He closed his eyes. “This is the end. You just created a monster and set him loose on us.”
“I don’t think you’re right, Dooley,” I said, though I had to admit he made a very convincing argument. It was true that bullies like Brutus hate to look weak. And we’d seen him at his weakest. At his lowest. We’d even seen him—gasp!—cry. Now that he was strong again—and boosted by the victory over Diego—he just might become fully insufferable. And vindictive.
“We watched him weep, Max. He’s never going to forgive us.”
“Let’s just wait and see,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Tonight we’ll all be sitting on the couch. Odelia, you, me, Brutus and Harriet, watching a great movie, and having a laugh about all of this. All friends together, right?”
He merely shook his head.
“Right? Dooley?”
He stared at me with accusing eyes. “What have you done, Max?”
Chapter 19
Odelia crossed the lobby to the door, lost in thought. That’s why she didn’t notice Chase until she bumped into him and almost went down. He placed two steadying hands on her shoulders. “Hold your horses, honey. Are you all right?”
The impact had done much to make her aware of the hardness of his chest and the power of his hands. The man was made of solid rock! “Um, yes, I’m fine,” she said, a little flustered. She made an effort to control her beating heart as she stepped away from him. “I wasn’t looking.”
“That’s what I figured,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’m here to interview another suspect. You?”
“Same thing,” she said. “I just had a chat with Stacie Roebuck.”
“The assistant? What did she have to say?”
“She was alone the night her boss died. Holed up in her room.”
“No alibi, huh?”
“Nope. None, whatsoever. Though I don’t think she did it. You should see her, Chase. She’s this sweet, slim woman.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Incapable of shoving a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound male into an oven?”
“I don’t think she could have done it. And not just physically. She might have disliked her boss—”
“He seemed to have had that effect on a lot of people.”
“—but she respected him for what he’d achieved.”
“All right,” he said. “And I respect your judgment.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you join me?”
“Interviewing a suspect? But I’m not a cop.”
“You’re practically deputized,” he said. “And it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
That was true enough. They’d interviewed other suspects before. She hadn’t lied to Stacie. Uncle Alec had given her a consultant status some time back, when he realized she could be a boon to his investigations. That still didn’t mean she could sit in on interrogations at the precinct. She could, however, tag along when a detective like Chase talked to witnesses and interviewed suspects. Like Rick Castle shadowing Kate Beckett.
“So who are you interviewing?” she asked as she fell into step beside him.
“There’s this guy who was one of Niklaus Skad’s main competitors. He’s a former chef who now has a cooking show on NBC. It was scheduled to go head to head with Kitchen Disasters and to everyone’s surprise managed to get more viewers than anyone thought.”
Chapter 20
“Ooh! I think I know him. Konrad Daines, right? Chopped Liver?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. You know your cooking shows, Odelia.”
“I always hope to pick something up.”
“I have to confess I’d never heard of the guy. Or Niklaus Skad, for that matter. But then I’m not much of a cook.”
“Me neither,” she confessed. “I just figure that maybe by watching a lot of cooking shows I’ll become a master chef.”
“You mean by osmosis?”
“Yep. That’s exactly what I mean. Silly, huh?”
“Nah. It’s like guys watching football. They just sit there with their beer bellies, totally out of shape, and somehow figure that if they watch enough games some of that athleticism just might rub off on them. Human nature, I guess.”
“Or laziness.”
He grinned. “Or that.”
They walked back to the main staircase, and she noticed Max, Dooley and Brutus had vanished. Probably on the case, just like she and Chase were. “You watch a lot of football?”
He laughed. “What are you saying? That I’m a couch potato?”
She glanced him up and down. “No, you’re definitely not a couch potato.”
“Thanks. I try to stay in shape. Not football, mind you, but I do hit the gym on a semi-regular basis.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Why don’t you join me? I could use a spotter.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Me? And you? Gym buddies?”
“Why not? It’s a lot more fun when it’s not just you and the treadmill.”
“I don’t know…” She pictured Chase hanging over her while she desperately
tried to push up a huge barbell, veins standing out on her neck, breaking into a sweat. Not exactly the way she wanted to look in front of him. It was true that she needed to get in shape, though. Desperately so, in fact. And he definitely looked like a guy who knew his way around a gym.
“They’ve got separate dressing rooms if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, I know they do. It’s just…”
“You don’t want me to see you in your gym clothes, huh? Is that it?”
“No! Of course not.” Well, yes. She didn’t want him to see her flabby midsection. Or her flabby tush. Or her flabby anything.
As if he could read her mind, he gave her a once-over. “I think you’re in pretty great shape, actually. You probably don’t even need to go to the gym.”
“Oh, trust me, I do,” she said. Then, before she could change her mind, added, “Fine. I’ll be your gym buddy. But if you make one comment about my butt…”
“I might make a compliment about your butt,” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah, right. Once you see my butt squeezed into spandex you’ll wipe that smirk straight off your face.”
“I think your butt looks great, with or without spandex.”
“Are we really talking about my butt now?”
“You started it.”
“You started it. I think.”
They’d arrived on the second floor, and he checked his notebook. “Konrad Daines. Room twenty-four. Let’s see if Mr. Daines is home, shall we?”
They traversed the hallway, passing a woman vacuuming the red carpeted floor and another dumping a bunch of linen into a trolley. They stopped in front of Room 24 and Chase knocked on the door.
“Did you ever get that chef to give up his alibi?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact I did. Turns out he was over at another restaurant in the next town for an interview. Was so sick and tired of Niklaus Skad that he was going to quit Fry Me for an Oyster and start work for the competition.”
“And he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances by blabbing about the interview.”
“Exactly. So that’s another suspect we can scratch from our list.”
Just then, the door swung open, and an irate-looking man stood in the doorway. “Yes? What do you want?”
Chase held up his badge. “Hampton Cove Police Department, Mr. Daines. Detective Kingsley and this is Odelia Poole, civilian consultant. May we come in?”
The man’s scowl instantly morphed into a look of concern. “Sure, sure. Is this about what happened the other night? My lawyer promised me he’d taken care of everything. That I was off the hook.”
They stepped into the room, and Odelia noticed how it was a lot nicer than Stacie Roebuck’s cramped quarters. There was a small foyer which opened up into a living room with an ocean view, a dining room and a kitchen. Two bedrooms led off the living room, one of which sported a four-poster bed.
The man led them into a salon and bade them take a seat. Odelia and Chase picked out a couple of chairs while Konrad settled himself on a settee.
“Actually we’re here to talk about the murder of Niklaus Skad,” Odelia said.
“Oh!” said the man. He was exactly as she remembered him from Chopped Liver. Barrel-chested with a tan even-featured face, bristly short hair, and keen eyes.
The show featured ten couples that were given the opportunity to open a pop-up restaurant. Undercover judges visited each restaurant and recorded their assessments, in no-holds-barred confession-cam style. Hidden cameras filmed the contestants as they responded to customer criticism and other crises. Tempers ran high, and when the teams reviewed their assessments at the end of each episode, typically lots of tears were shed and Kleenex doled out. The big prize was to open an actual restaurant.
“I take it you’re aware that Niklaus Skad was killed?” Chase asked.
“Of course. Yes, I heard about that,” said Konrad.
“You and Mr. Skad were competitors?” Odelia asked.
“Yes. Yes, we were. His Kitchen Disasters and my Chopped Liver were scheduled in the same time slot. His on Fox and mine on NBC.”
“Is it true that your show was being axed at the end of its current season?” Odelia asked.
The man’s face darkened. “So you read about that, huh? Yeah, it’s true. It’s also the reason for my little… incident the other night.”
“Yes, let’s talk about that,” said Chase. “You said something about your lawyer promising you something? What’s that all about?”
“Oh, um…” He looked sheepish now. “I thought that’s why you guys were here. I had too much to drink and, well, I kinda passed out on the beach.”
“You passed out on the beach?” Chase asked, jotting down a note.
“Yes, that’s right. Right after I crashed Bill and Hillary’s party.”
“Bill and Hillary… as in Clinton?” asked Odelia, surprised.
Konrad heaved a deep sigh and settled back on the settee. “Not my finest hour, I must confess. You see, I’d just gotten the news about my show being canceled, and I wasn’t in the best of moods. But instead of staying in my room, like I probably should have, I decided to go out and party. A buddy of mine has a yacht in one of the marinas in East Hampton, so I dropped by for a drink. Our company moved to the beach and we polished off a few bottles of bubbly.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“And then?” Chase prompted.
“And then things got kinda vague. I remember sitting by a campfire listening to some dude playing the guitar. Then some of the girls wanted to go skinny-dipping and asked me if I was game. And I guess I was, cause next thing I remember I woke up in a prison cell and some cop accused me of crashing Bill’s birthday party and making a nuisance of myself.” He shrugged. “What happened between the skinny-dipping and the Clintons I don’t know.”
“And this all happened the night Niklaus Skad was killed?” Odelia asked.
“Yeah, you can check with East Hampton police. I was in jail when Niklaus was killed. First thing I heard about it was when my lawyer came to bail me out in the morning.”
“I take it you and Mr. Skad didn’t get along?” Chase asked.
“No, we most definitely didn’t. That guy stole my idea. I was going to do a show called Kitchen Calamities. This was months before he pitched Kitchen Disasters to the networks. When I heard about it, I confronted him. He just laughed in my face. Said I shouldn’t have blabbed about the concept to everyone I knew.” He frowned. “Bastard didn’t even deny stealing my idea. And then of course it made him a fortune and a household name.”
It was obvious there was no love lost between the two celebrity chefs, but if his story about crashing the Clinton party was true, it would be easy to check. Which let him off the hook. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Mr. Skad?” Odelia asked.
The man uttered a curt laugh. “Um, just about everybody? Niklaus wasn’t a well-liked man, Miss Poole. He made a lot of enemies over the years, and worst of all, he was proud of the fact. Always said that the number of enemies a man had showed how successful he was. He even bragged about how hated he was.”
Yep. That sounded about right.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Daines,” Chase finally said, after checking a few more things. “You’ve been most helpful.”
The chef stood and shook Chase’s hand. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Look, I know you have to find the killer—it’s your duty, after all—but let me tell you that most people you will talk to will tell you the same thing: they’re all happy Niklaus was killed. That man was evil, Detective. Pure evil.”
When they stepped from the room, Chase heaved a deep sigh. “So I guess that’s it then. Another suspect down. We don’t have any left.”
“Poor man. First Skad stole his million-dollar idea for a show, and then he went and got his own show canceled. He must have hated him so much.”
“Yeah, he’s the best suspect I’ve talked to so far. Physically he’s als
o perfect. He could easily have shoved Skad into that oven. And he was in town the night of the murder.”
“Pity he’s got an ironclad alibi.”
“Rock solid,” Chase agreed.
“So where does that leave us?”
“We’re still waiting on the final report from the coroner, but barring any surprises we’re pretty much out of moves here. I honestly don’t know who else could have done it.”
“You talked to the rest of the staff?”
“All of them. They all alibied out.”
“And no witnesses have come forward?”
“None. Which is weird, as someone must have seen something.”
They descended the stairs, and Odelia gave the interview some more thought. Chase was right. Konrad was the perfect suspect. And he was innocent.
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Detective Kingsley.”
He gave her a grimace. “So now suddenly it’s my investigation again, huh?”
“You are the detective. I’m just a consultant.”
He shook his head. “Round about now we could use some of those magic sleuthing powers your uncle claims you possess. Cause from where I’m standing things are starting to look pretty hopeless.”
She thought of Max and Dooley. If they didn’t come up with something soon, Chase was absolutely right. Things did look hopeless.
Chapter 21
All the way back from the hotel to the house, I thought about what Dooley had said about Brutus. How I’d stirred the beast and he would return to haunt us. And when we were about to turn the corner and enter the street where we lived, I saw Brutus coming toward us, and he looked completely deflated again.
I nudged Dooley. “Look who’s coming.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s going to bully us,” Dooley said.
“Very observant of you, Dooley. So maybe you were wrong, huh?”
“Let’s wait and see.”
“Hey, that’s my line!”
“And now it’s mine.”