by Nic Saint
“Jeb could have told a friend, who could have told a reporter.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “And I know I should have talked to Jeb before jumping to conclusions. Still, it wasn’t a nice surprise to read my own words, spoken in anger, plastered all across the National Enquirer’s front page in big, bold lettering.”
“The fight was about Jeb’s divorce?”
“Yes, it was. I thought he was being a damn fool to leave Helena for a treacherous gold-digging bimbo like Camilla Kirby. It was obvious to me—in fact it was obvious to anyone but Jeb himself—that the only thing Miss Kirby was interested in was the raised profile marriage to a mega-star like Jeb would bring. Once that was accomplished, she dropped Jeb like a hot potato. Now she was playing leads in global blockbusters whereas before she was only known to a handful of people in the industry, featuring in indie movies and making no money. So mission accomplished, I would say, except for Jeb, because he has now become a pariah, his career a shambles, his present a pitiful afterthought to an otherwise stellar past.”
“Why did Camilla destroy Jeb’s career? Or is it possible he really was abusive to her?”
“I don’t think so. Of course, it’s very difficult for an outsider to know what goes on inside a marriage, but Jeb is not a violent man. He’s prone to temper tantrums, but he’ll never take them out on anyone. He’ll close up like a clam and retreat from the world. At heart he’s a benign soul and I don’t recognize him in the stories that have been written about him.”
“Only now he’s being accused of having murdered Camilla.”
“Impossible,” said the director. “Jeb? Murder? Out of the question. There must be some other explanation. And that’s where you come in, don’t you, Miss Poole?”
“The police are convinced he did it, though.”
“Yes, well, the police are not infallible. The truth will out, and when it does, I’m one hundred percent certain it will exonerate Jeb completely.”
“Some people say that you might be the one behind this whole plot to implicate Jeb,” she said. “What do you have to say to that?”
He laughed. “Priceless!” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Me? A murderer? Absolutely priceless. Who told you this?”
She shrugged.
“Why would I ever want to hurt Miss Kirby? Or Jeb, for that matter?”
“Because Jeb didn’t just wreck his own career when he divorced Camilla, but yours as well. Your last high-profile project was three years ago, an eternity in Hollywood. And as far as I can tell there’s nothing on your slate. So it’s not just Jeb who’s been turned into a pariah in his own industry. The same goes for you, Mr. Priestley.”
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw working. It was obvious she’d touched a raw nerve. “Myes,” he said finally. “It is true that Jeb’s tribulations reflect badly on me, as he’s always been what some people would call my muse. But Jeb doesn’t define my career. I’m still the one in charge of my own destiny. Directors have had muses and then replaced them with others. Martin Scorsese replaced Robert De Niro with Leonardo DiCaprio. Alfred Hitchcock exchanged Grace Kelly with Tippi Hedren… I’ll survive this temporary setback.”
“I hope you do. I really enjoy your movies, Mr. Priestley.”
He flashed a quick and rare smile. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear. At any rate, the fact that I haven’t had a movie made in three years is not entirely Jeb’s fault. I’m as much to blame as he is. The fact of the matter is that my wife has been facing some health issues lately, and they’ve demanded my full attention.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He leaned forward. “Please don’t print any of this, Miss Poole. Yes, I know you’re a reporter as well as an amateur sleuth. Which explains my outburst earlier. I’m not the media’s biggest fan right now. And this is all strictly private. So if you print a word of this…”
“I won’t write a word. I promise,” she said quickly. And she wouldn’t. She was a reporter with a strict ethical code of conduct, as was her boss Dan.
“Yes, Gail has cancer. Ovarian cancer. She’s fighting hard, but the prospects are not good. Not good at all. We’re taking her to Switzerland next week, for an experimental treatment. So you see, my mind is not on movies right now. And as luck would have it, I have made enough money over the past thirty years that I can afford to retire and devote this time to my beloved wife.” He stared into the distance for a moment, where old men were still hitting little white balls then chasing after them. He heaved a deep sigh. “At any rate, it’s very good of you to take Jeb’s case to heart. Even though I’ve been extremely upset with him, he doesn’t deserve to be punished for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Why don’t you tell him so yourself?” she suggested. “Maybe now is a good time to make your peace with each other.”
He gave her a weak smile. “Reporter, sleuth and confessor. You are a special lady, Miss Poole.”
She would have added cat lady, but didn’t. There were certain secrets the world had no business knowing. She certainly agreed with the director on that. And as she took her leave, she placed a hand on his shoulder and he gave her a nod of appreciation. She now realized all his bluster was simply a front to hide the pain he was experiencing. Pain he couldn’t share with anyone because of his position in the industry and his fame.
“Poor man,” she said as she returned to her barstool.
Gran didn’t respond. She’d fallen asleep where she sat.
She gently shook her and finally Gran stirred, licking her lips. “It wasn’t me, Dr. Franklin. Nurse Jackson stole that diamond.” She blinked when she realized where she was. “Weird,” she said. “I must have dozed off.”
“We need to get you home,” said Odelia. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going home,” said Gran. “I’m going to interview more suspects and solve this mystery.”
But as Odelia put her grandmother in the car and buckled her up, the old lady promptly fell asleep again.
Ecstasy, thought Odelia. They should probably change the name to misery instead.
She drove back to the entrance, and then through it and out. And as she did, she happened to glance in her rearview mirror and who should she see there but Max and Dooley, fast asleep atop two lions!
Chapter 27
We were driving through town, Grandma asleep next to Odelia, and Dooley asleep next to me. The only ones still standing—so to speak—were Odelia and me.
“Where are we going?” I asked, yawning.
“My dad’s,” Odelia said, looking grim. She cut a quick glance to her grandmother, who was out like a light. “I don’t like this, Max. Maybe we should take her to a hospital.”
“Tex will know what to do.”
Just then, Gran suddenly sprang to life again. “Yes, your highness, I’m just a lonely virgin from Iowa lost in the woods!” She glanced around. “Where am I?”
“In my car. I’m taking you to see my dad.”
“Oh, do I have to?” asked Gran in a whiny voice. “You know I hate doctors.”
“You work for one.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t hate them,” she said reasonably.
“You promised you wouldn’t fight me on this, remember?”
“Oh, all right. Have it your way,” said Gran, slumping down in her seat again. “But he won’t find a thing. I’m as fit as a baby kangaroo.” Just then she spotted something through the windshield. “There! It’s Conrad!”
“Your drug dealer?”
“My vitamin supplier,” Gran corrected her. “Pull over. I’m going to ask him a straight question and he’s going to give me a straight answer and you’ll see that he’s an honest vitamin salesman and not a nasty drug dealer as you keep implying.”
“Deal,” said Odelia, and pulled the car over to the side of the road.
We were on the outskirts of Hampton Cove, in one of the more residential areas. Mostly families with kids lived there, and I wondered what a d
rug dealer would be doing in a nice neighborhood like this. Unless he really was a vitamin salesman, of course. We can all use some extra vitamins from time to time.
“Hey, you!” Odelia bellowed the moment she’d cut the engine and cranked down the window. “Conrad, right?”
The guy grinned broadly at the mention of his name and came walking over. He’d been leaning against his own vehicle, a spiffy new Toyota Land Cruiser, and was dressed in cowboy boots, skinny jeans, a fringed red cowboy shirt and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. In Texas, he would have fit right in. In Hampton Cove he stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Howdy,” he said, tipping his hat. “What can I do you for, little lady?”
“Howdy!” Gran yelled from the other side of the car, and dipped her head down to show her face to the man.
His smile widened. “Mrs. Muffin! My best customer! Don’t tell me you ran out already!”
“My granddaughter here confiscated my stash, that’s what the problem is. She won’t believe me when I tell her you’ve been selling me vitamins and nothing but vitamins. She claims you’ve sold me ecstasy—whatever the hell that is—and she doesn’t like it.”
The man’s smile faltered. “Um, yeah. No, of course I sold you vitamins. You came to me for a pick-me-up so that’s what I gave you.”
“So if I take these to the police and have them examined at the police lab,” said Odelia, holding up her grandmother’s pills, “they’ll clearly show up as vitamin pills, right?”
His eyes went little wider, and a lot wilder. “Police?” He stepped back from the vehicle. “Now, little lady, why would you go and do a thing like that? I’m just an honest businessman, trying to make an honest buck here.”
“You didn’t answer my question. If I give these pills to my uncle—who happens to be chief of police in this here town of ours—”
“And my son,” said Grandma.”
“—and he has them examined—”
“You never told me your son was chief of police!” the guy yelled.
Next to me, Dooley stirred. “What’s going on? What’s with all the yelling?”
“Odelia is busting this drug dealer’s chops and he doesn’t like it,” I said, giving him the CliffsNotes version of events.
“Does it make a difference?” asked Odelia. “If you sold my grandmother vitamins that’s perfectly fine. But if you sold her ecstasy, on the other hand…”
The cowboy wannabe was backtracking in the direction of his car now. “I think you better leave now, lady. I’m not doing business with you—nor you, Mrs. Muffin.”
“Hey, what about my vitamins?” asked Gran, getting a little worked up.
“I’m fresh out!” said the guy, waving his hands. “Got nothing left, I’m sorry!”
He then got into his car and slammed the door.
Odelia gave her gran a questioning look, then Gran said, “Hit it,” and Odelia hit it.
I had no idea what she was supposed to hit, but as it turned out, it was the gas. She’d put the car in reverse, and now stomped her foot on the accelerator. And even as the drug dealer tried to maneuver his car out of the parking spot he’d squeezed it in, she hit him in the front fender with a crunching sound of iron grinding against iron.
“Hey!” the guy yelled, sticking his head out the window. “This is a new car!”
Odelia slammed the car in gear again, moved a few inches to the front, then reversed into the Toyota once more, hitting it with such force something came loose and dropped down on the ground.
“My car!” the guy screamed, and when I looked back, he was on the verge of tears.
“That’s what you get for selling drugs to old ladies!” Odelia yelled, and then pushed so hard on the gas that Conrad’s car was shoved backward and into the car behind him, now effectively boxed in with nowhere to go.
He must have understood what she was trying to accomplish, for he opened the door and started to make a run for it. But Odelia is a much better runner than any drug dealer, and she caught him in no time, tackled him to the tarmac, then straddled him.
“Gran! Call Alec!” she yelled.
“Already on it!” Gran yelled back, taking out her phone.
“This is a free country!” the guy cried as he squirmed helplessly. “Free enterprise is the backbone of America!”
“Not when you’re dealing dope,” said Odelia.
Moments later, the cavalry arrived in the form of Uncle Alec. When the guy saw him, he knew the jig was up and dropped his head on the asphalt, losing the cowboy hat.
“Ugh,” he said.
“This man has been selling drugs to senior citizens, convincing them they were vitamins,” said Odelia, getting up.
“And do we know any of these senior citizens?” asked Alec with a twinkle in his eye.
Gran threw up her hands. “He told me they were vitamins!”
Alec sighed. “Conrad Jenkins,” he said, helping the man up. “You’re under arrest.”
“Fine,” said the guy. “I’ll never sell dope to your mom again. Now can I go?”
“You wish,” grunted Alec, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them away. “Now what have I told you about selling dope in my town?”
“Um... not to do it?”
“Exactly. Last time you got off easy. This time I’m throwing the book at you, buddy. And hopefully this time the lesson will stick.”
“Hey, I’m just a businessman.”
“You’re a dope peddler, and you were trying to tap a new market by selling your poison to kids.” He gestured to the school located at the end of the street.
So that’s what he was doing there. Bad man, I thought. Very bad man.
“Before you take him in,” said Odelia, “can I have a quick word?”
“You can have all the words you want, honey,” said Alec. “I’m grateful you got this piece of crap off my streets. Again,” he added, getting into the guy’s face.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Conrad. “Don’t rub it in.”
Odelia moved a few feet away from her uncle.
“So what is it you want to know?” asked Conrad wearily.
“Jeb Pott. He’s one of your customers, isn’t he?”
The guy studied her for a moment, then smiled, displaying a row of perfectly even and blindingly white teeth.
“The drug trade must be a very lucrative one,” said Dooley, “if he can afford nice snappers like that.”
“I guess so,” I said, following the back-and-forth between Odelia and Conrad intently.
“What is this information worth to you?” asked the guy now.
“Listen, buster. You poisoned my grandmother. So don’t push me.”
“All right, all right,” he said, his smile vanishing. “Okay, yeah, I was Jeb’s dealer when he was in town. And a great client he was, too. Pretty much bought up my entire supply of whatever I had to offer. Mary Jane, boom, smack, gum, snow, bennies, ice, uppers, rope, goop, K, angel dust, magic mint, Robo, blue heaven, cactus, shrooms, poppers, uppers…”
I shared a look with Dooley and shook my head. He shook his, too.
“So he paid you?” asked Odelia, unfazed. “No debts?”
“Hey, what do I look like to you? A banker? I don’t do credit, all right? You want the stuff, you pay cash on delivery.”
“Ask him if he’s ever heard of a guy called Animal,” I said. “Or Cicero.”
“Do the names Animal or Cicero mean anything to you?” asked Odelia.
The man’s face instantly displayed an expression of fear. “I got nothing to do with those guys. Nothing whatsoever. They stay out of my way, and I stay out of theirs.”
“Jeb was deeply in debt with this Animal person,” I said. “And Cicero, who works for Animal, threatened to break Jeb’s kneecaps with a baseball bat if he didn’t pay up.”
“Is it possible Jeb borrowed money from this Animal to buy your merchandise?” asked Odelia.
The guy shrugged. “It’s possible. But not likely. I mean, this is Jeb Pot
t we’re talking about. World-famous actor? The guy must be loaded, right? Private jet, condo in Manhattan, mansion in the Hamptons, yacht in the South of France, private island in the Caribbean. Vacation home in Gstaad. Why would he borrow money from the Animal?”
Odelia nodded, then glanced down at me. “Apparently that’s exactly what he did.”
“If he did, that was very stupid of him,” said Conrad. “And if he didn’t pay, he’s a dead man.”
Uncle Alec put Conrad into his squad car and read him his rights.
Odelia crouched down next to me. “So tell me more about this Animal.” I told her the story about meeting Melvin, and she smiled. “See? I told you dogs are nice.” She tickled my chin. “You need to keep an open mind in this business, Max. Otherwise you won’t get far.”
“Lesson learned,” I said. “So are you going to talk to this Mr. Animal now?”
“Not right now. I’m taking Gran to my dad first. If she’s been popping ecstasy she needs a full medical.” She shook her head as she got up. “What the heck was she thinking?”
“I was thinking I was buying vitamins!” Gran yelled from the car. “Vitamins!”
Chapter 28
Arriving at her dad’s, Odelia helped her grandmother out of the car, but Gran quickly slapped her arm away. “I’m not an invalid,” she snapped.
“I know, I know. Just be careful where you step, all right?”
Gran grumbled something under the breath that didn’t sound like the kind of thing one should say to one’s beloved granddaughter, then sailed into the doctor’s office under her own steam. She stepped inside and Odelia followed right behind. In the waiting room only one patient sat. It was Mrs. Baumgartner, Dad’s least favorite but most loyal patient. Not a week went by that Mrs. Baumgartner didn’t set foot in the office at least once.