by Nic Saint
“Technically Helena is not his family anymore,” said Odelia. “They’re divorced.”
“But Fae is still his daughter, and Sasha is still his dog—at least partly.”
“Yes, they are,” she admitted. She clapped her hands. “Well, isn’t this your lucky day? It just so happens that Uncle Alec found some irregularities that indicate this story isn’t as clear-cut as we’ve been led to believe. So he’s asked me to look into the matter.”
“So you think Jeb is innocent?” Dooley asked, his little face lighting up.
“No, I don’t, but there are some things that need to be clarified.”
Max gave her phone a little shove in her direction. “Call Fae. Tell her you’ll take the case. Pretty please?”
“You should have seen how hard she was crying,” said Dooley.
“Yeah,” Max added, “she used so many paper tissues trees are crying, too.”
Odelia laughed. “All right. I’ll take the case.”
She’d always trusted her cats’ instincts. And if they thought that something funny was going on, and so did Uncle Alec, something funny definitely was going on.
Chapter 11
We were finally back at the house. I love prancing around and helping Odelia ferret out clues but you know what I love even more? To be home and lie on my favorite spot on my favorite couch. And having access to my food bowl and my litter box. So it was with a sinking heart that I discovered that not only had the kittens emptied out my food bowl again, but they’d also been playing in my litter box, spreading litter all over the kitchen floor.
Ugh.
“You guys!” I cried. “Why did you make such a mess?”
The three kittens sat next to one another and stared at me, then giggled and attacked me! One jumped on top of my head, another assaulted my tail, and the third one hopped onto my back and dug his tiny claws in!
“Ouch! Hey! What the…”
I tried to shake them off, but they were pretty tenacious.
“I’m the prime resident of this house and you’re going to treat me with resp—ow!”
The one attached to my tail had sunk its teeth into this tender body part again.
“Oh, are you going to behave or not?!” I cried, and pushed the tail-biter away.
In response, the one using my head like a jungle gym gave my nose a playful tap.
“Oh, you guys,” I said grumpily, and rolled over on my back to remove these pesky kittens. They were more nimble and flexible than I was, though, and immediately changed tack by jumping on top of my soft white belly and using it as a trampoline!
“Yay yay yay!” they shouted as they hopped up and down.
Yuck. Now I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten Sasha’s kibble back at the mansion.
So I rolled over on my belly again and hunkered down, protecting myself from the onslaught. Of course now they jumped on my back, with one even dangling from my left ear.
Dooley, who’d popped over to his house next door and now came back in through the kitchen pet flap, eyed the circus with a laugh. “You guys look like you’re having fun.”
“I’m not having fun,” I growled. “They are.”
“Yay yay yay!” cried the kittens, as they jumped up and down on my back.
“How am I ever going to survive this?” I asked miserably as I tried to ignore the little tykes trampling all over me.
“Oh, they’ll grow up eventually,” said Dooley, who seemed to have softened to the kittens. “We did, remember?”
Frankly I couldn’t remember ever having been this young and silly, but logically thinking there must have been a time when I was a kitten myself. Hard to believe, right?
“Woo-hoo!” said the one dangling from my ear, then fell down on his tush, only to immediately crawl up again and climb on top of my head for another round, this time going for my other ear.
The pet flap flapped again, and Brutus and Harriet came strolling in. Harriet is a bright white Persian and her boyfriend Brutus a perfectly black butch cat. They’ve been an item for a long time and nothing can come between them—unless they come between themselves themselves, of course, if you know what I mean. But isn’t that often the case?
When they saw the circus in full swing—literally—they both burst out laughing.
“Yeah, laugh all you want,” I said grumpily. “It’s not so funny if it happens to you.”
The one dangling from my ear fell down again and this time landed on his head. Immediately I checked him for injuries, but the little dude only seemed dazed for a brief moment, and then was chasing his own tail, at last leaving mine alone for a change.
“They’re very lively,” said Harriet with a smile. “Who are they?”
“They were left on Odelia’s doorstep this morning,” said Dooley. “She’s going to keep them.”
Harriet’s smile vanished. “Keep them? What do you mean, keep them?”
“Just what I said. She’s going to keep the kittens.”
“She can’t do that,” said Harriet, flicking a look at Brutus as if hoping he’d back her up. “Can she, sweetie pie?”
“Of course she can. It’s her house—her rules. If she wants to take in an elephant or a rhinoceros who’s going to stop her?”
“Animal control? I think we should have a say in this, don’t you?”
Brutus shrugged. “Hey, we’re just the cats. It’s the humans that make the rules.”
“No, but we live here, too. She can’t just decide to take in three strangers and not ask our opinion. And I, for one, vote against adding to the pack.” She gestured to the rest of us, the kittens meanwhile playing with one of the ping pong balls Odelia had thrown on the floor. “Four is company, seven is a crowd. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
“More like two’s company, three’s a crowd,” I said.
“Whatever! She can’t keep adding cats. We’re already overcrowded in here as it is.”
“We do have two houses and two backyards,” Brutus pointed out. He quickly shut up when Harriet gave him one of her death-ray glares.
“We also have the park,” said Dooley, oblivious of the danger he was in. Contradicting Harriet can prove hazardous to one’s physical integrity. “And the street—the entire town of Hampton Cove, really.”
“Nobody asked you, Dooley,” Harriet snapped.
Dooley looked confused. “But I thought you said—”
“Never mind what I said! Either they go, or I go. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, and the others murmured their agreement. Harriet had made herself so clear, in fact, that I had a feeling she was going to be sorely disappointed when Odelia told her it was her way or the highway. And why wouldn’t she? This was Odelia’s house, after all. Us cats might think we are in charge, but at the end of the day we simply aren’t.
The kittens must have spotted Harriet, for they now came walking up to her, still a little faltering in their step.
“Don’t you dare,” she said in a voice that shook with indignation.
The kittens stared, clearly never having seen anything like her before.
“This fur is perfect, not a blemish. And if you so much as think about touching me… hey!”
The kittens hadn’t merely thought about touching her—they’d gone and done it. More, they’d jumped on top of Harriet and were now using her for trampoline practice.
“Yay, yay, yay,” they were singing as they hopped up and down.
“No! Get off! Go away! You can’t—Brutus! Do something!” Harriet cried.
Brutus jumped into the fray, but to no avail. Like fleas, the kittens jumped from Harriet to Brutus and back, having a whale of a time.
“Come here, you little…” Brutus was growling, but even his foulest glare or deepest growl couldn’t stop the cats from running rings around him and Harriet.
And as I watched on, I said, “Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day.”
“No, you definitely don’t,” Dooley agreed.
C
hapter 12
Odelia walked into the police station, her grandmother right on her heels, and immediately recognized in the diminutive figure of the fair-haired woman who sat on a chair in the waiting room the famous actress who’d been Jeb’s first wife and loyal partner for twenty-five years, until he traded her in for a younger model in the form of Camilla. Next to Helena sat her lookalike daughter Fae. Both women got up when Odelia approached.
“So you must be Odelia,” said Helena as she pressed Odelia’s hand. “Fae told me what she did.”
“Mom wasn’t happy about it at first,” Fae explained, “but she quickly warmed to the idea when she realized Dad could be in jail for the rest of his life.”
“Jeb can’t be in jail. He just can’t. He’s so sensitive. Jail will crush his soul.”
“I understand,” said Odelia. “The thing is, and I’m going to be totally upfront with you—I’m still not entirely convinced Jeb didn’t do this.”
Fae rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Haven’t you listened to a word I said? Dad isn’t like that. He’s not a killer.”
“He was pretty doped up,” Gran remarked in that subtle way of hers.
Both women turned to her. “And who are you?” asked Fae frostily.
“My name is Vesta Muffin and I’m a flogger,” said Gran, extending her wrinkly, bony hand. “And I’m here to tell you that I’m gonna fight for your cause until my dying breath.”
Helena eyed Gran uncertainly. “I thought you said you don’t believe in our cause?”
“If you want to know what I think,” said Gran, warming to her subject, “it’s that your precious Jeb was high as a kite when suddenly this bimbo who’d been suing him for his last cent shows up at his door. So, being baked out of his skull on coke and meth and whatnot, he grabs a knife and stabs her to death in a frenzy the likes of which this country hasn’t seen since Charlie Manson and his merry band of whacked-out psychos. Then he zonked out and when he woke up he didn’t remember a thing. That’s what I think happened.”
“Dad would never do that,” said Fae, tears springing to her eyes. “He would never kill anyone, drugs or no drugs.”
“Ah, but you gotta admit he was tripping,” Gran pointed out. “Now this is what you need to tell Jeb’s lawyers. They can plead temporary insanity and blame it all on Jeb’s drug dealer, whoever he is. He’s the one they should put in jail for murder. He’s the one who killed that poor woman, not Jeb, who’s just another victim in this case.”
“Right,” said Odelia, giving her grandmother another nudge.
“Stop poking me!” Gran said. “I’m sensitive on account of the fact that I’m slim.”
Odelia gave Helena and her daughter an apologetic smile. “Don’t listen to my grandmother. She watches a lot of soap operas.”
Uncle Alec appeared and waved them over. “Better be quick about this, all right?” he said. “Five minutes and that’s it. No extensions.”
Odelia nodded and braced herself for her first encounter with the fallen superstar. The deal was that Helena and Fae had visitation rights, and Odelia would accompany them as their legal advisor, even though she didn’t possess a legal bone in her body. Gran was tagging along as Odelia’s plus-one, which, if anyone asked, was a tenable proposition at best.
They were led into the interview room, where Jeb Pott sat with his hands shackled to the table, head down. When they entered, he looked up. Seeing Helena and Fae, suddenly tears appeared in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. “Helena. Fae. Darlings. I didn’t do this,” he said in husky tones. “You have to believe me.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Pott, that you were passed out in a drug-induced coma and don’t remember a thing?” asked Gran.
“Yes, but…”
“And isn’t it also true that you were found covered in your victim’s blood and with the murder weapon next to you?”
“Yes, but I…”
“And isn’t it also true,” said Gran, raising her voice, “that you invited the poor woman to your lodge in the dead of night with the express purpose of luring her to her death?” She slammed the table. “Confess now, young man, and we can still make a deal!”
“Who the hell are you?!” Jeb cried.
“She’s my grandmother,” said Odelia, mortified.
Jeb directed his watery eyes on Odelia. “And who are you?”
“Odelia Poole—private detective,” said Fae proudly, placing her hand on her dad’s. “I hired her to clear your name, Daddy. She’s going to work hard to get you out of here.”
“Uh-huh,” said Jeb, who seemed more confused and rattled than when he played The Prisoner of Zenda in the movie with the same name.
“I just have one question for you, Mr. Pott,” said Odelia. “Did you send those texts inviting Camilla Kirby to meet you at the lodge?”
“No, of course not. Why would I want to meet that woman after what she did to me? She destroyed my life, my career—she took great pleasure turning the whole world against me and destroying everything I worked years to accomplish. And what I was most upset about,” he added, softening, “is that she hurt the two people I care about most in this world: you, my darling Fae, and you, Helena. And I’m truly sorry about that.”
“You do realize that accusing your ex-wife only builds a stronger case against you, don’t you, sonny boy?” asked Gran, scowling and poking a crooked finger in his direction.
“Gran, please,” said Odelia. “You’re not working for the prosecution, you’re working for the defense, remember?”
Gran frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Odelia decided to put it in terms her grandmother would understand. “You’re Perry Mason, not Hamilton Burger.”
A sly smile crept up Gran’s face. “Right, right.”
“More to the point, you’re a vlogger helping me on a case. So you’re really Paul Drake, and I am Perry Mason. Though since I’m not a lawyer but a private detective, I’m actually more like Thomas Magnum and you’re either Rick or TC. Your choice.”
Gran sat down. “I’m confused,” she declared. “This legal mumbo-jumbo sounds a lot easier on TV than in real life.”
“Tell me about it,” mumbled Jeb.
“I forgive you, Jeb,” said Helena. “Everything that happened between us is now in the past. What matters most is that you build yourself a stellar defense team.”
“How can I?” said Jeb sadly. “I’m broke. No decent lawyer will defend a man who’s got nothing but a pile of debts.”
“We’ll get you a lawyer, Daddy,” said Fae. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”
Helena hesitated. “A good defense costs a lot of money, darling. And I’m afraid it’s money that we don’t have.”
“Then I’ll pay for it. My modeling career is going well. I want to pay for it, Daddy,” she insisted when Jeb shook his head.
“It’s fine, darling. I’ll manage somehow. I still have a couple of friends in the industry. I’ll get the money together.” He turned to Odelia. “So you’re a private dick, huh?”
“She is,” said Gran proudly. “My granddaughter is the best private dick this side of Long Island.”
Jeb nodded gratefully. “Then I’m glad you’re on my side, Miss Poole.”
“You can call me Odelia,” said Odelia, who was suddenly starting to feel a little giddy. Being in close proximity to the famous dreamboat actor had that effect on her. Though he didn’t look as handsome as he used to in his heyday, he was still plenty charismatic.
He took her hand and fixed her with an intense look. “I promise you, Odelia. I didn’t do this. Even though I may have been strung out on booze and dope, I would never kill a person, even one I hated with every fiber of my being,” he said, suddenly clenching his jaw.
All in all, as Odelia walked out of the interview room, she still wasn’t convinced that Jeb hadn’t killed his ex-wife. On the other hand, she believed that people were innocent until proven guilty, and decided to extend Jeb that courtesy, too. She also believed that Helena a
nd Fae believed in Jeb. So what other choice did she have but to pursue this investigation and pursue it as if she really were the best private dick this side of Long Island?
Chapter 13
They were out in the parking lot, and Helena and her daughter started to walk away in the direction of their car. Odelia followed them. “If I’m going to do this I need to do it right,” she said.
“Right, like the professional dicks that we are,” Gran confirmed.
“What I mean is that I need to know if there’s anyone out there who might hold a grudge against Jeb.”
Helena laughed, and so did Fae. “Anyone? How about I write you a list?”
“That many, huh?”
“You don’t become an A-list actor without making a couple of enemies along the way.” She held up a hand. “Not that Jeb would ever rub anyone the wrong way or that he’s difficult to work with. On the contrary. Ask anyone. He’s a total sweetheart, off and on the set.”
“But he does have enemies.”
“There are colleagues who are jealous. Guys he started out with but who never reached the top. They could drink his blood.”
“Not literally, though,” Fae interjected with a laugh.
“Some could drink his blood, especially the weird ones,” said her mother. “Then there’s the directors he rubbed the wrong way by wanting to pursue his own creative vision when they felt otherwise.”
“Yes, but those are creative differences you’re talking about,” said Odelia. “That and petty jealousy. But this is murder. Someone who hates Jeb so intensely that he or she would murder another human being simply to get back at Jeb.”
“Or someone who hated Camilla so much and didn’t care if the blame fell on Jeb,” said Gran.
“Or both,” Fae said. “Someone who hated my daddy and Camilla and figured out a way to get rid of them both in one fell swoop.”
Odelia nodded as she thought this through. They could be looking for a person who hated Jeb or Camilla or both. At any rate, whoever this person was—if this person even existed—he or she needed to have been in the area last night. “Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against Jeb or Camilla and who is in town right now?”