by Nic Saint
“So who’s playing Cleopatra?”
“We’ve cast Alicia Vikander for the role,” he said. “I think she’ll be great.”
Emerald pulled a sour face. “If I were a few years younger, I could have played her.”
“I don’t understand why you have to pick a white actress,” said Verna peevishly. “Cleopatra was Egyptian, right? Why not pick an actress of color?”
“You mean like yourself?” said Emerald. “As if you are good enough to play such a plummy part.”
Verna stiffened visibly, threw down her utensils and got up. “You know what? I think I’ve had enough of your abuse, Emerald. Come on, Thaw. Let’s get out of here.”
“But you can’t go!” said Emerald, clearly sorry about her outburst.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, Emerald,” said Abbey.
“No, not very nice at all,” Alina added.
“I apologize! I’m sorry, Verna,” said Emerald. “It’s just that I have so much on my plate right now. I didn’t mean what I said, darling. You know I love you.”
Verna hesitated for a moment, then returned to her seat.
“You really should cast a woman of color as Cleopatra,” she repeated. “In this day and age, whitewashing will only get you pilloried by your audience.”
“I could play Cleopatra,” said Gran. “I think I’d be great.”
“I don’t…” The director looked at her with a bemused expression on his face. “Wouldn’t you say you’re a little ... old for the part, Mrs. Muffin?”
“That’s ageism right there,” said Gran. “I think it’s time Hollywood starts to appreciate senior citizens. We’re a large chunk of audience that goes absolutely unserved. Casting me as Cleopatra would give a signal. A signal that senior citizens count in Hollywood. That we haven’t been forgotten.”
“You should cast a senior citizen woman of color,” said Verna. “That way you’d hit the two demographics in one fell swoop.”
Odelia glanced over to Verna, and thought back to Max’s words. They sounded pretty damning. But before she talked to Uncle Alec, she needed to be absolutely sure. She needed to hear it from the woman’s lips. So she vowed to have a little chat with Verna later on and ask her straight out. She was pretty sure she’d be able to tell if she was lying or not.
Then again, Verna was a professional actress.
To convincingly tell a lie came with the territory.
Chapter 31
That night, Emerald had planned a movie night in her private movie theater. It should have been a fun night for all, but now of course no one was in the mood. Instead, one after the other people drifted off to bed. Tomorrow was the last day, and even though the itinerary said there was horse riding planned, and a trip to the nearby town of Happy Bays, Odelia had the distinct impression there wouldn’t be much horse riding or visits to quaint little towns.
Verna and her husband had been sitting huddled together on the terrace, nursing their drinks and talking intensely, and the moment Thaw got up, Odelia saw her opportunity and seized it by approaching the actress.
“I’m so sorry,” she said by way of introduction, “but I couldn’t help overhearing you and your husband arguing this afternoon.”
Verna frowned. “You did?”
“I was in my room, on the balcony, and I couldn’t help but hear you say to Thaw that you did what he asked you to.” She lifted a meaningful eyebrow.
“So?”
“So I should probably tell you that I don’t think Kimberlee’s death was a suicide. I actually think she was murdered…”
Verna’s face cleared as understanding dawned. Astonishment mingled with amusement on the actress’s face. “You think I killed Kimberlee? Seriously?”
Odelia shrugged. “Before I talk to my uncle I wanted to talk to you first. I know how words can get twisted and lost in translation, so…”
“You came to elicit a confession from me,” said Verna, nodding. She glanced down to Odelia’s chest. “Are you wearing a wire? Is this a sting?”
“Of course not. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to explain before I talked to the police about what I heard.”
Verna leaned back and tucked her legs underneath her. “And a good thing you did, or else you would have made an absolute fool of yourself, Miss Poole. What Thaw and I were discussing was actually our divorce.”
“Your divorce?”
“The thing is… I had a brief affair with Kimberlee.”
“I know. I mean, so I’ve been told.”
“My, my. Aren’t you the busy bee?”
“There’s been a lot of talk this weekend.”
Verna leveled a critical look at her fellow actresses. “Oh, how they love to talk.” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “When Thaw found out about the affair, he went ahead and hired a lawyer. When he told me, I…” She shook her head. “It was as if I woke up from a trance. I realized I loved Thaw, and that this thing I had with Kimberlee was just a fling. So I promised Thaw I’d break it off and do whatever it took to make it up to him. I went into therapy and—”
“Wait, you broke it off?”
“I did, yes.”
“But I thought…”
“I know what you thought—what everybody thinks. That Kimberlee dumped me. But that’s not what happened. I was the one to end it—because I didn’t want to lose Thaw. And then Kimberlee started spreading vicious lies about me behind my back. Saying things like how I’d been unfaithful. How I was an addict—trying to sabotage my career, you know. Out of spite.”
“So that’s why you blew up at her. Not because she dumped you but—”
“Because she was trying to make me out to be someone I’m not. And I wanted her to stop.”
“So when you said to your husband ‘I did what you asked me to…’”
“I was referring to me breaking up with Kimberlee and starting therapy. Not,” she added emphatically, “murdering Kimberlee—I mean, really?”
“I’m sorry. It just sounded as if…”
Verna studied Odelia with an amused expression on her face. “You have quite the imagination, Miss Poole, but then I guess for a reporter that comes with the territory.”
“Odelia, please, and I’m sorry if I offended you. I just thought…”
Verna waved her apologies away. “It’s fine. At least you didn’t slap a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. But tell me—why would you think Kimberlee was murdered? I thought it was pretty obvious she killed herself.”
“A hunch, mainly,” said Odelia. She didn’t want to mention that Kimberlee’s dog had heard her mistress talk to a mystery visitor immediately before she died. It was not the kind of revelation that would stand up in court.
“Yeah, I guess reporters develop good hunches. Does your uncle think the same thing?”
“Yes, he does.”
“So it’s official?”
“Well… Officially nothing has been decided yet.”
“Murder.” She shook her head, her dreadlocks dangling pleasantly. “Incredible. But who would do that to her?”
“Take your pick,” said Odelia, gesturing at the people still present on the terrace. “From what I can tell Kimberlee wasn’t exactly Miss Popular.”
“She wasn’t. I had all the reason in the world to hate her, and so did a lot of other people.”
“So what do you think? Assuming it was murder. Who is the killer?”
Verna thought for a moment. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say her boyfriend. The poor guy has had to endure so much over the years. She made a complete fool of him over and over and over again.”
They both studied Kimberlee’s boyfriend Zoltan, who was sitting by himself, sipping from a vodka tonic and looking every inch the tragic widower.
“He just doesn’t seem like the type, though,” said Verna.
“They never do,” said Odelia, speaking from experience.
Chapter 32
I have to admit that in spite of the fact that
we were now the guests of an obviously very accomplished hostess, I still missed my own homestead that night. There simply isn’t anything better than to take a nice snooze on your favorite spot on the couch or the foot of the bed. And I know that the beds and the couches in this part of the world were of a much better quality than those belonging to my own human, but what can I say? Sometimes that ratty old jacket you’ve been wearing for years is preferable to that brand-new and very expensive coat.
I’m obviously not speaking from experience here. Cats don’t wear jackets or coats. But you catch my drift.
Still, I’d found a nice little spot on Odelia’s very large and very comfy bed, Dooley had taken up position at Chase’s feet, and Harriet and Brutus had decided to make full use of the large space on Gran’s bed next door.
We’d all had such a nice and filling dinner we were satisfied to sleep it off for a couple of hours, this murder business the furthest thing from our minds.
Odelia and Chase talked deep into the night, but I didn’t let it keep me from enjoying a refreshing slumber. So when I did finally awake, I found that both my humans had drifted off to sleep, and only one pair of eyes was staring at me in wonder. I had no problem attributing the inquisitive peepers to my friend Dooley, who obviously had been awake for quite a little while.
“What’s wrong, Dooley?” I asked, yawning and stretching. “Why are you up?”
“You are the soundest sleeper I know, Max,” he said reverently.
“I know,” I said. “I like sleeping.”
“You really sleep the sleep of the dead.”
“I’m not sure I like that particular simile.”
“For a moment there? I thought you were really dead. You weren’t dead, were you, though, Max?”
“If I was dead I’d still be dead right now. Being dead is not a temporary affliction, Dooley. In most cases it’s permanent.”
“People have come back from the dead,” he argued.
“Yeah, but they usually had to be brought back by an able team of medical professionals and quite a few shocks to the system. Spontaneously dying and then equally spontaneously reviving would be akin to a medical miracle.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead, Max.”
“That makes two of us. So what’s up? Can’t sleep?”
“I thought I heard a noise.”
I turned my antenna-like ears in the direction he was indicating. He was right. There was a noise, and it seemed to be coming from the wall dividing this room from the next, where Gran was presumably sleeping soundly.
“Could be Gran snoring,” I said.
“Or Brutus.”
“Does Brutus snore?”
“He does.” He giggled. “The funniest little snuffles.”
We both jumped down from the bed and padded over to the wall. I put one ear against it and listened intently.
“It doesn’t sound like snoring,” I finally determined. “More like… munching.”
“Maybe Gran grinding her teeth?”
“Could be if she had teeth.”
“She doesn’t?”
“She does, but she puts them in a cup every night.”
“That would probably prevent her from grinding them.”
“It would.”
“Could be mice,” I finally determined. Chewing in the middle of the night? Either mice or rats. Now I was totally intrigued. So I hunkered down and saw there was a crack underneath the baseboard. And since cats will be cats, I inserted a nail and started pulling. That’s what we like to do: we like to dig our nails in and tug and see what happens.
“I’ll bet it’s mice,” I said.
“Or a secret door to a secret room.”
Doubtful, but I could tell Dooley was more excited about the prospect of a secret room than a family of mice so I said, “Now wouldn’t that be cool?”
“The coolest!” Dooley said, and followed my lead.
The secret door, if that was what it was, didn’t budge, though. It probably was locked and needed a key or some secret ritual to open it all the way. And if it was mice, as I suspected, they’d found the perfect hiding place: one where even cats couldn’t reach.
“What’s going on, you guys?” asked a sleepy voice from the bed.
“Oh, just that we’ve discovered a secret door,” Dooley said casually.
This made Odelia sit up right away and flick on the bedside lamp.
“What’s happening?” muttered a sleepy Chase. “Why are we getting up?”
“The cats have discovered a secret door.”
“Secret door? What is this? A Nancy Drew story?”
Odelia had padded over barefoot and now crouched down next to us. She rubbed her finger along the crack. “Looks like you’re right. But how to open it?”
“We’ve been trying,” said Dooley, “but they must have locked it really tight.”
“Has to be a way to open it somehow,” said Odelia, her fingers gently exploring the surface of the alleged secret door.
Chase, who’d reluctantly thrown off the blanket of sleep and also his actual blanket, joined us. “Lemme see,” he said. He studied the wall for a moment, then poked his finger at a part of the wallpaper depicting a flower bud. There was a click and a whirr, and suddenly the door swung open!
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Odelia, appropriately impressed.
“Magic finger,” Chase announced proudly.
Odelia opened the door further and we found ourselves staring into a darkened space. We all popped our heads in to take a look-see. In the dark, I could see a small hairy form run for cover. It was a mouse. Our mysterious muncher. I decided not to tell the others. At heart, I’m a peace-loving cat.
“A secret corridor,” said Chase. “This is a Nancy Drew story.”
“Or a Hardy Boys story,” Odelia allowed.
Whatever it was, we’d made the most astonishing discovery.
“You know what this means, right?” I said.
They all looked at me. Even Chase, who seemed to have developed a sudden fascination for our thoughts and suggestions.
“This must be how the killer got into Kimberlee’s room!”
Chapter 33
“You know what? I think you’re right, Max,” said Odelia.
“Of course I’m right,” said Max.
“Is he saying this is how the killer got into Kimberlee’s room?” asked Chase.
“How did you—can you suddenly understand my cats?” asked Odelia, stunned.
“No, but it seems like the logical conclusion for the locked room mystery. This is the only way the killer—if there was a killer—could have snuck into the room.”
“Well, there was a killer,” she pointed out. “Kimberlee’s dog said so.”
Chase laughed. “I’m sorry. I still have to get used to this whole ‘Max said this’ and ‘the dog said that’ thing. As if I’ve just entered a Dr. Dolittle movie. And you don’t even look like Eddie Murphy.”
“We need to follow this lead,” said Odelia. “Find out how far this goes.”
“I’ll bet these corridors run all over the house,” said Chase.
“We better call Uncle Alec,” said Odelia. “He needs to search these corridors for clues.”
“I’ll bet the killer, whoever he or she is, was careful enough not to leave any clues,” said Chase. He’d picked up his phone, launched the flashlight app, and shone it down the corridor. It looked exactly like what it was: a space between two walls, high enough and wide enough for a single person to pass through.
“I wonder why Emerald had these constructed,” said Odelia.
“Emerald didn’t build this house,” said Chase. “She bought it a little under a decade ago. This house is easily a hundred years old. Emerald and Pete, when they got it, did a lot of renovations, though, but I’ll bet these corridors were never touched.”
“How do you know so much about this?”
“Because I talked to Steve and he told me.”
“Maybe th
e original owner was some old pervert who liked to spy on his guests?” Max suggested.
Odelia laughed. Chase did not. She repeated Max’s words and he grinned. “I’m starting to understand why you like those cats so much. They’re hilarious.”
“And very clever,” she said as she closed the secret door again and it locked into place. “They found this passageway, didn’t they?”
“So this is how you managed to solve all of those mysteries. You had help from your ‘secret sources.’”
Now it was her turn to grin. “I couldn’t very well tell you that my secret sources were my cats, could I? Besides, you would never have believed me.”
“It’s ingenious,” he admitted. “Cats are able to go anywhere undetected, and the bad guys won’t think twice to discuss their nefarious plans in front of a cat or household pet, knowing they won’t spread the word.”
“Only they do spread the word, and very happily so.”
Just then, Odelia thought she saw movement near the door. When she walked over, and opened it, she didn’t see anything. What she did detect were voices, whispering in the dark. She listened intently. And then she heard it.
“Don’t worry about a thing, my darling. I was very careful not to leave a single trace.”
“I worry about you, that’s all.”
“Like I said, nothing to worry about. They’ll never know.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Odelia quickly darted into the hallway and peered into the darkness. She heard a door close, but it was impossible to know which one it was.
“What’s going on?” asked Chase, following her out.
“I heard two people talking,” she said. “But now they’re gone.”
“What did they say?”
“The woman said something about how she’d been very careful and how they’d never catch her. The guy seemed worried and she was reassuring him.”