by Nic Saint
“So Camilla arrived at the gate, Jeb let her in and…”
“Killed her, yeah. Must have happened soon after she arrived. Abe puts time of death around four o’clock.”
“Who called it in?” she asked as she surveyed the frenzied scene. A stretcher was now being carried out, and she turned away her head. She might be there to report on a crime but that didn’t mean she reveled in this kind of death and mayhem. She could write a good article without mentioning all the gore other reporters seemed to salivate over.
“That’s the weirdest thing,” said Uncle Alec, scratching his scalp with his pencil. “Anonymous phone call. Neighbor walking his dog at the time of the murder. Said he heard a scream and took a closer look. Said he saw a man attacking a woman. So he called it in.”
“No idea who the witness is?”
“No idea. Which isn’t unusual,” he hastened to say when he saw her skeptical expression. “Some people just don’t want to get involved in anything to do with the police.”
“So he actually saw the murder—actually saw Jeb murder his ex-wife?”
“Uh-huh.” He groped around for his reading glasses. “Where are the darn things?” he grumbled. Odelia plucked them from the top of his head where he’d just put them and he gave her a grateful grin. “Thanks, hon.” He frowned at his notes. “Here it is. Caller said he heard a woman scream bloody murder. Said a man who looked like Jeb Pott attacked her.”
“So there’s a witness to the murder,” she said, deflating. She’d hoped against hope that Jeb was innocent, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was guilty.
“I’d be more satisfied if I could talk to this witness, of course,” said Uncle Alec. “But with all the evidence we have right now there’s no doubt Jeb Pott will be convicted of murdering his ex-wife in cold blood.” He lowered his voice. “We also found a ton of cocaine in the house, along with at least a dozen other illegal substances and crates full of hard liquor and booze. If all this stuff shows up on Jeb’s tox screen the guy was high as a kite when he did what he did. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing.”
Odelia nodded. More proof that the stories of Jeb’s substance abuse were true.
“Honestly, Odelia, this is a guy who went all Charles Manson on that poor woman. She never stood a chance. The moment she walked into this lodge she was a dead woman.”
Chapter 6
Dooley and I idly inspected the terrain that surrounded the lodge. It mainly consisted of ferns, wild geraniums and different types of grasses. It all looked very inviting for a nap.
“I don’t like it, Max,” said Dooley, using one of his favorite phrases.
“I don’t like it either,” I intimated. “This Jeb guy is a terrific actor. I thought he was great in Captain Blood and those westerns. I never get tired of watching his movies.”
“I don’t mean Jeb,” said Dooley. “It’s the kittens. I don’t think I like them very much.”
“Which is only natural,” I assured him. “Nobody likes kittens, Dooley. Except humans, of course.”
“Odelia likes them.”
“Case in point. That’s because kittens have a tendency to play on humans’ heartstrings. They tug those strings so hard they leave those poor humans giddy with affection and a distinct sense of dubious attachment to the furry little creatures.”
“They’re very rude,” said Dooley. “And they don’t respect us older cats.”
“No, they don’t.”
Even before we’d left the house to go on this fact-finding mission with Odelia, the threesome had used my water bowl to dunk a paper ball into and had emptied out my bowl of Cat Snax. And when Odelia had refilled my bowl, and had placed three smaller bowls, one for each kitten, they’d finished their own bowls then mine in one fell swoop!
“No respect at all,” I agreed with my buddy.
“They’re taking over the house, Max. They’re even peeing in the corners, marking off their territory—our territory!”
“I know,” I sighed. “But what can we do? Odelia loves them to death—even though she only met them this morning.”
“We need to teach them some manners, Max. Teach them to respect their elders.”
“I know, but Odelia strictly forbade me to do exactly that.”
“But we can’t just let them walk all over us!” he cried, indicating just how riled up he was. Dooley is usually a very peaceable cat, and this proved how he was being pushed to the brink and beyond by our unexpected guests, just like I was. “Maybe we should send in Brutus to deal with the three little brutes,” Dooley said now. “Or Harriet—or both!”
I gave this some thought. There was no doubt Dooley had made a valid point. Neither Harriet or Brutus had been cautioned by Odelia. Yet. So they were officially in the clear, able to admonish to their heart’s content. And frankly speaking Brutus could be very severe if he wanted to be, and so could Harriet. If I were a kitten and I saw Harriet or Brutus coming—or both—I’d be afraid. I’d be very, very afraid.
Bucked up by these uplifting thoughts, I discovered we’d reached the back of the small lodge. A pile of discarded and empty glass bottles was lying there, testament to the preference for alcoholic beverages of the lodge’s current occupant. Beyond the pile of bottles an ashtray rested on a bench, overflowing with weirdly shaped cigarette butts.
“Why do humans smoke and drink so much, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Beats me,” I said.
“They possess a tendency towards self-destruction, don’t they?”
“You can say that again.”
“They possess a tendency towards self-destruction, don’t they?”
“I didn’t mean literally repeat—oh, never mind,” I said. I’d spotted a tiny birdie sitting and singing in a nearby tree and padded over to take a closer look at this fluffy little friend.
On the whole, the relationship between cats and birds is fraught with a certain tension. Birds, as a rule, don’t like cats. Probably because cats, as a species, tend to eat birds. Not that I’m one of those cats, per se. Odelia taught us a long time ago that sometimes we need to sink the savage feline into the civilized feline, and has strictly forbidden us from ever taking a feathered life.
“Yoo-hoo, birdie,” I said now.
The bird glanced down in our direction, did a visible double take, blanched to the root of its downy gray feathers, and fluttered off as fast as its tiny wings could carry it.
“Too bad,” I said.
“What is, Max?”
“That birds take this instant dislike to us just because we’re cats.”
“It’s anti-cat bias,” Dooley agreed.
As far as I could tell, no other feathered creatures were anywhere nearby, and I was about to give up this fact-finding mission as a dud when I saw that a young woman came walking in our direction through a small patch of gray birch trees. There was a path there that led straight from the house to this lodge, and she was bouncing down it at a brisk pace. She vaguely resembled Jeb, and I wondered if she was in any way related to the actor.
When she came upon us, she smiled prettily. “Oh, hey, you two cuties. I’ve never seen you here before.” She crouched down next to us, and tickled me behind the ear, then rubbed Dooley’s head, then scratched me under the chin. In response, we both closed our eyes and started purring up a storm. Now here was a human to whom I took an instant shine. Pro-human bias, I guess. And we were still purring when Odelia rounded the lodge and came into view. When she saw us fraternizing with another human, she smiled.
“I see you’ve met my cats.”
“Oh, are these two sweeties yours? They’re so cute!” the girl said. Then she seemed to sober and rose to her feet. “You’re Odelia Poole, aren’t you?”
Odelia seemed surprised to be recognized. “Yes, I am. Have we met?”
“Not in person. I love your articles for the Gazette, and I’ve seen your picture.” She glanced around. “Um, I need to ask you a favor, Miss Poole.”
“Odelia. And you are…”
“Oh, sorry. How rude of me.” The girl thrust out a slender hand that was attached to a slim arm, which was connected to a willowy body. “My name is Fae. I’m Jeb’s daughter.”
“Oh, of course,” said Odelia, shaking the girl’s hand.
She was probably all of seventeen, or maybe even sixteen, and looked very young and very pretty. Striking large eyes and a pale heart-shaped face with high cheekbones.
“I know what you must be thinking,” said Fae. “My father did the most unspeakable thing. But I can assure you that he didn’t do what they’re accusing him of, Odelia.”
“He didn’t?”
The girl shook her head decidedly. “My daddy would never murder anyone. He couldn’t hurt a fly.” She took a deep breath. “Which is why I want you to find out who’s framing him for murder. I want you to find out and then I want you to tell the police who the real murderer is.” She took out her wallet before Odelia could reply, and pressed a small wad of green bills into her hand. “Consider this an advance for future services rendered. I’ll pay you whatever you want, but please, Miss Poole,” she said, and clasped Odelia’s arm, fixing her with a pleading look. “Please please please clear my father’s name?”
Chapter 7
Odelia didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know if…” she began.
“Oh, I know you’re not a private detective—not a licensed one, anyway. But I also know that you’ve helped the police solve countless murders, and that you’re very good at what you do. If there’s one person who can clear my daddy’s name it’s you, Miss Poo—I mean Odelia. So please, please, please, please, please take me on as your client?”
“Like you said, I’m not a detective, Fae,” said Odelia. “I’m a reporter, so…”
“But you have to find out what really happened. You just have to. My daddy—he can’t be in jail. He’s not going to last a week—even a day. He’s a sensitive soul—a poet and a tender-hearted man. He simply won’t survive if he’s locked up in that dreadful place.”
Odelia remembered her uncle’s description of the murder scene and thought that Jeb Pott was anything but a tender-hearted soul. More like a crazed killer.
“Fae, even if I wanted to, I don’t have the skillset to—”
“Oh, but you do! I’ve read all your articles, and I’ve heard all the stories. Mom says you’re an ace detective and you’re the one who’s solved all those murders, not the police—and definitely not your uncle. You and only you have been solving crime in this town.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Odelia. “The thing is, to do what you’re asking me to do—to investigate Camilla Kirby’s murder, and to take you on as a client…” She hesitated.
A look of distress had crossed the girl’s face. It was obvious she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Odelia decided just to say it. “I’m not entirely convinced your father is innocent, Fae.”
The girl had gripped Odelia’s arm again. She had a firm grasp, in spite of her thin frame. So thin Odelia thought she might be a model. She remembered reading something about Jeb launching her in that industry when she was fifteen. Or she could be confusing her with another celebrity’s daughter. “Oh, but I’ll convince you. Why do you think he did it?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s the only one out here—staying in this lodge. No traces have been found of anyone else inside the cabin.”
“The killer could have worn rubber-soled shoes and have entered the cabin while my daddy was asleep.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why Camilla’s blood is all over your father’s clothes, and why the knife is covered in his fingerprints.” She decided to neglect to mention the part about blood in Jeb’s ear, where it must have splattered when he murdered his ex-wife.
“The killer could easily have smeared that blood on Daddy while he was asleep, and planted the knife in his bed,” she insisted stubbornly.
All true, Odelia agreed, and was surprised to find the girl’s thoughts following her own so closely. “But there’s a witness, Fae. A witness who saw what happened.”
“A witness?” The girl frowned.
“Yes, this witness saw your father arguing with Camilla and then attacking her. He’s the one who called the police. He’s the reason they showed up here so fast and were able to arrest your father.” Before he could get rid of the body and cover his tracks.
“So who is this witness? Have the police told you his name?”
“They don’t know his name. He doesn’t want to come forward. The only thing we know about him is that he was walking his dog.”
“Here? Inside the gate?”
“Out on the street.”
The girl laughed. “Oh, but don’t you see?! He’s lying! There’s no way you can look in from the street. There’s the fence, and it’s overgrown with weeds and whatever. So this witness must be the real killer—he’s the one trying to blame this whole thing on Daddy!”
“I don’t know…” said Odelia, wishing those reporters would take a hike so she could take a look at that fence herself. Fae had a point. How could this witness have looked through the lodge’s window if the entire place was fenced off?
Fae clasped Odelia’s hands in hers. “Oh, won’t you help me? My daddy is innocent. Absolutely innocent. He didn’t kill Camilla. I’m one hundred percent sure he didn’t.”
Odelia studied Jeb’s daughter, who stood looking at her with a pleading expression on her face, practically willing her to take the case. But she decided she simply couldn’t. So she handed back the cash. “I’m so sorry, Fae, but I can’t. Like I said, I’m not a detective.”
A mutinous look came over the girl’s face. It was obvious she was used to getting what she wanted.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m just a silly little girl who loves her daddy so much she’d do anything to save him—even if he’s guilty of murder. But I’m not. I’m not an innocent little girl. I know what’s out there in the world. I’ve seen evil and I know what it looks like. I’m a model, you see, and I’ve come across my fair share of predators and monsters in this business. I’ve looked into their eyes and seen the depravity and the horror and the lechery. And I’ve looked into my father’s eyes and seen nothing but love and tenderness and kindness. He’s a true innocent, and that’s why he finds it so hard to live in this world sometimes. People can be cruel, Odelia. Very, very cruel.” And with these words, she abruptly turned on her heel and strode off back in the direction of the manor house.
“That was tough,” said Max, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the exchange.
“Yeah, very tough,” Odelia agreed. “But I can’t take Fae’s money. She wants me to prove her father’s innocence, and I can’t. Because he did it, Max. Jeb Pott is a murderer. He’s a brutal cold-hearted killer and I’m not going to try and prove otherwise.”
Chapter 8
Frankly I didn’t see what else there was for us to do out there. We’d tried to talk to a potential witness, who’d taken flight the moment he or she laid eyes on us, and now we were simply cooling our heels wasting time while the kittens were probably tearing the house apart back home. But Odelia was still snooping around, and I didn’t feel like pawing it all the way home, instead opting to wait until Odelia was finished and gave us a lift.
And since we were out there anyway, with nothing to do, we decided to take a turn around the grounds and take in the scenery. To be absolutely honest I also wanted to take a closer look at that ginormous mansion at the end of the driveway. It is my experience, borne out by years of associating with humans, that people who own mansions often have pets, and those pets are more often than not pampered little creatures who enjoy the very best in gourmet food that money can buy. And since I was getting a little peckish—not to mention that the kittens had stolen my food—I thought it was only fair to take a peek and maybe even a bite in yonder pet haven.
And so wander yonder we did, and s
oon found ourselves rounding the house and looking for a way into the kitchen, where, once again according to my extensive experience, often cat food can be found—or even dog food. At that juncture it didn’t do to be picky.
The deck rose into view and we moved over to check it out. And that’s when we found the same girl who’d approached Odelia with her incredible proposition, crying her heart out. She wasn’t crying in little sobs either but in big gulping gulps, wailing away.
“Poor girl,” said Dooley.
“Yeah. It’s not her fault her dad is a homicidal maniac who murders women for fun.”
“Maybe Odelia should have taken on her case?”
“Maybe. Though from what I can gather he’s guilty, Dooley. And it’s very hard to prove that a guilty man didn’t do it. Nor should Odelia even have to try. Guilty people belong in jail.” That’s what Odelia has always taught us and it’s what I truly believe.
“Do you think Fae wants Odelia to prove that her dad didn’t do it even if he did?”
“Looked that way to me. She just wants her daddy back, whether he’s guilty or not.”
We both glanced up at the teenager, who still sat there heaving big wailing gulps of breath, from time to time pausing to blow her nose in a stack of Kleenex she kept on hand.
A woman who slightly resembled Fae came walking out of the house and placed her arm around the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s all right, honey. Everything will be all right.”
“No, it won’t, Mom!” the girl cried, shaking off her mother’s arm. “Things will never be all right again. Never ever ever!”
And then she practically leaped into the house, leaving her mother looking distraught and worried. The mom picked up a tissue for herself and blew her nose. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked like she’d been crying herself.
“This man has broken so many hearts,” said Dooley, shaking his head.
A little fluffy doggie came tripping out of the house. The moment it saw us it stood there, panting slightly, vibrating on its tiny paws, as if it had never seen a pair of cats before.