by Nic Saint
“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to. He claims Erica will change her mind again and realize she still loves him. Though if you ask me the guy is delusional.”
“He tried to kill me,” said Dooley.
“Kill you!” Gran cried.
“Yeah, he thought Dooley was an intruder and tried to whack him over the head with a golf club,” Odelia confirmed.
“He called me fat and orange,” I said sadly. “Basically an orange fatty.”
“Oh, dear,” said Gran, and patted me on the head for my trouble, and picked Dooley up and placed him on her lap.
I guess she figured I was too heavy to do that. Or maybe I was just seeing things. It’s not every day that I’m called orange and fat. But Dooley did just survive an attempt on his life, which is a lot worse than being called an opprobrious name and the wrong color.
“What are they saying?” asked Scarlett, who then had the decency to pick me up and place me on her lap. So of course I rewarded her with plenty of purring!
“Carl tried to kill Dooley and called Max fat and orange,” Gran explained.
“Oh, the poor darlings!” said Scarlett, endearing herself to me even more than she already had. She plucked at my ears. “He’s a bad, bad, bad man, isn’t he, Max?”
“He sure is,” I said, a little piteously.
“At least he didn’t do them any harm,” said Odelia, “which is more than I can say about the divorce that isn’t happening.”
“Can’t Erica hire some ace lawyer? One of those people who can work miracles?”
“She can’t afford one of those miracle workers. Carl froze all of her bank accounts, canceled her credit cards and is blackballing her in the modeling world, making sure she’ll never work again as long as she doesn’t comply with his wishes.”
“I don’t get it,” said Scarlett. “What is this? The nineteenth century? You can’t hold a woman hostage like that. If she doesn’t want to stay married to the guy she should be able to get rid of him.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Odelia.
“Maybe you can write an article denouncing him,” Gran suggested. “Tell the world Erica’s story. Maybe then he’ll think twice about treating her like his personal property.”
“Dan asked me to play nice with the guy,” said Odelia. “I think he’s afraid that if we rock the boat we’ll lose advertisers. Or maybe he’ll come after us. Apparently Carl is a big name in town, and if we get in bad with him, it just might jeopardize the paper’s future.”
“This is just terrible,” said Scarlett. “Isn’t there anything we can do for Erica?”
Odelia shrugged. “I’m not sure. But if you have an idea, I’m all ears.”
Just then, her phone chimed and she picked it up from the table to glance at the number. “Chase,” she said, and picked up. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” She listened for a moment, and a frown soon creased her brow.
Scarlett watched the brow-creasing and sucked in her breath with a hissing sound. “Don’t do that,” she murmured. “You’ll get early-onset wrinkles if you keep doing that.”
But Odelia wasn’t listening. Instead, she said, “I’ll be there in ten.” She hung up, then announced to a captive audience, “The Hampton Heisters just broke into Katrina MacKney’s house.”
“No, they didn’t!” Gran cried, consternation making her sit upright with a jerk, causing Dooley to be relegated to the ground again.
“Who’s Katrina MacKney?” I asked.
“She’s a soap star,” Dooley explained. “One of Gran’s absolute favorites. She’s on General Hospital. She plays Mrs. Emerald Brown. I think she’s the general who runs the General Hospital hospital.”
“Do you guys want to come?” asked Odelia as she signaled the waitress for the check.
“Does a bear shit in the woods!” Gran cried.
“Does he?” Dooley asked, turning to me.
“I hope so,” I said. “Imagine if a bear shat on the carpet.”
So when Scarlett got up and deposited me on the ground, I heaved a sigh of disappointment. I quite enjoyed her strokes and had been purring up a storm.
But duty calls, I guess, and soon we were on our way, this time to lend aid and comfort to a soap star.
9
While in the car, we briefly touched on the topic of Harriet and Brutus suddenly having decided to up and leave our nice little home for yonder shores and adopting a dog’s life instead.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said Odelia. “I’m sure they’ll be back in no time.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Last time I talked to Brutus he seemed to enjoy living with the Trappers.”
“How about Harriet?” asked Odelia. “What does she think?”
“Harriet is reserving her judgment. Until she’s spent some more time over there.”
“They’ll be back,” Odelia reiterated, seeming awfully sure of herself. “No cats of mine have ever left to find a better home elsewhere, and I don’t think it will happen this time.”
“Brutus doesn’t like all the fuss Gran makes,” said Dooley, who was riding in the backseat along with me. Gran and Scarlett, of course, were following behind in the little red Peugeot Gran likes to drive, though driving probably isn’t the right word for the kind of thing Gran does with a car. “And he doesn’t like all the murder business either.”
“All the murder business? As if we have to deal with murder so often.”
“Well, we have dealt with murder quite often in the recent past,” I said.
“Have we really?” said Odelia as she checked her GPS to make sure we were still going in the right direction. “I wasn’t aware that we had.”
“We’ve been involved with dozens of murders, Odelia,” I pointed out, “which is something of an oddity as there are only fifteen thousand people in Hampton Cove.”
“This place is turning into Cabot Cove,” said Dooley, nodding, and when we both gave him a curious glance, Odelia through the rearview mirror and me opting for the direct approach, he added, “Murder She Wrote? Jessica Fletcher’s hometown? There’s been so many murders over the years that Cabot Cove has turned into the murder capital of America. Though of course Cabot Cove is a fictional town and Hampton Cove is real.”
“I guess,” said Odelia doubtfully. Clearly she hadn’t thought that far. “Anyway, we’re here, you guys. Are you sure you want to come in? There’s going to be a lot of people.”
“Why wouldn’t we go in with you?” I asked.
“Well, after the traumatizing experience with Carl Strauss…”
“Oh, that,” I said, waving a dismissive paw. “I’m over that already, Odelia,” I assured her.
“Me, too!” Dooley piped up, though the thought of Carl Strauss’s golf club seemed to make my friend turn a little white around the nostrils—hard though it was to notice.
Odelia parked her car out in front of the large mansion where Katrina MacKney resides, and we all got out. Behind us, Gran had parked her car, and so we strode up to the front door, which was open, and where several police officers were milling about, proving Odelia’s point that the Hampton Cove police department was out in droves.
The Hampton Heisters were quickly turning into a real nuisance for our local law enforcement professionals, proving as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel, though presumably with more nefarious motives powering their burglarious efforts.
We moved inside, and quickly found our way to the library, which was the hub of activity. The famous soap opera star herself stood explaining her ordeal to anyone who would listen, which in her case were Chase, Uncle Alec, and a small contingent of the county coroner’s office, busily dusting the place for prints and generally collecting clues.
“Lady MacKney!” Gran gushed as she surged to the fore. “I’m your biggest fan!”
“And who are you?” asked the actress coldly, indicating the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“My name is Vesta Muffin, and I’m the head of the local neighborhoo
d watch, and can I just tell you right now that the watch is doing everything in its power to catch these criminals and bring them to justice?”
“Well, you better work a little faster, Vesta Muffin, for if what Chief Lip just told me is true I’m already the sixth victim of these so-called Hampton Heisters. The sixth!”
It wasn’t immediately clear to me whether she was upset that she was only sixth on the list instead of first, or that she was simply upset to be on the list, period.
“What did they take?” asked Odelia.
“Everything! My jewels, money from the safe, all of my Daytime Emmy Awards, and plenty of memorabilia from a long and extremely successful career. Can you believe they even took several of my dresses? And my shoes! And my minks and stoles! And Coco’s collars—the diamond-studded ones, naturally. These people clearly have no shame!”
The woman was a diva, that much was obvious, and I had a feeling that this whole scene would soon make its way into a new storyline on General Hospital.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Dooley gushed next to me.
“I take it you’re a fan, too?” I said.
“Oh, yes. Did you know she had a baby last month? And look how well she looks.”
“A baby? The woman is at least seventy.”
“Well, she did, and not only one but triplets. Though one was abducted by a Mexican drug cartel, and one turned out to be suffering from some terrible and very rare disease, and the third was adopted by her daughter, since she can’t have children of her own.”
“Who’s the father?” I asked, intrigued in spite of myself.
“The King of Belgium,” said Dooley promptly. “They met in the orphanage when they were children, but lost sight of each other for many years, until they were both wrongfully arrested when yachting in Saint-Tropez and met in the drunk tank.”
“As people do,” I murmured.
“And now they’re inseparable. At least until last week, when he was caught in the arms of a tennis pro. I didn’t even know the King of Belgium was into men, did you?”
“I didn’t even know Belgium had a king.” Or that a country named Belgium existed.
“So what are you going to do about this is what I want to know?” said the woman, giving Uncle Alec a jab in the chest.
“We’re going to find these people and we’re going to return the stuff they stole,” said Uncle Alec, though frankly he didn’t look all that convinced himself, to be honest.
“Do you have any idea who these people are?” the soap star demanded.
“The investigation is ongoing,” said Uncle Alec, a little lamely, I thought.
“Which means you have no idea,” she said imperiously, towering over the poor Chief.
“Well…”
The mayor of Hampton Cove, Charlene Butterwick, who’d also decided to come down to see what was going on, assured the diva that no stone would be left unturned in the pursuit of justice.
“Do you have CCTV?” asked Odelia.
“No, I don’t. I do have an alarm system, but obviously these people have a way of dealing with that, for I never got a peep from the thing—it’s an app on my phone.”
“Were you home when it happened?”
“No, thank God I wasn’t! I was having my nails done.”
Odelia turned to her husband. “Maybe that’s part of their MO. They follow their victims around, to make sure they’re not home.”
“It’s rare for burglars to break in during the daytime,” Chase explained to the stricken soap star.
“Well, they did. I arrived home to find the place turned upside down. Good thing poor Coco wasn’t home when it happened—I always take her along with me wherever I go.”
“And you don’t have any staff?” asked Gran, who’d been so star-struck she’d hardly spoken, which wasn’t her habit.
“I gave my staff the day off when I left for the salon.”
“So how did they know about that, I wonder,” said Odelia.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find out,” said the star. She turned to Mayor Butterwick. “Can you give me your solemn word that you’ll find these crooks, Madam Mayor? Cause frankly I’m losing patience, and so is the rest of the community. Six break-ins!”
“We’ll catch them,” said Charlene. “I have complete confidence in our Chief of Police.”
“Well, I hope you’re right,” said the woman dubiously.
A small white Bichon Frise had come tripping up and nodded to us in greeting. I had a feeling this might be Coco. “So you were out, too?” I asked.
“Yeah, I wasn’t here when it happened,” Coco confirmed. She was a soft-spoken mutt, and appeared nervous to be in the presence of so many people, which was a little odd for the dog of a television celebrity. She gave me a pleading look. “I hope you find these people. They took my favorite collar. The diamond-studded one I got for my birthday.”
“Do you like to wear a collar?” asked Dooley interestedly.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Coco. “You don’t?”
“No, not really,” said Dooley. “We wore collars recently for some experiment Odelia was conducting and I didn’t like it. You didn’t like it either, did you, Max?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “Collars itch.”
“You have to get the ones with the velvet on the inside,” said Coco, who proved herself something of a collar aficionado. “Those are very pleasant to wear. In fact I love wearing my collars so much I feel completely naked without them, to be honest.”
“Don’t worry, Coco,” I said. “Uncle Alec is very good at what he does, and so are Chase and Odelia. They’ll catch these people, and then you’ll get your collars back.”
“Is it possible I’ve seen you on General Hospital?” asked Dooley now.
“Yes, you might have,” said Coco diffidently.
“I thought I had! Gran and I are big, big fans. We watch every episode, and Mrs. Emerald Brown is our favorite character on the show.”
“She’s my favorite character, too,” said Coco, not surprisingly. “And she managed to get me included in some of the episodes. At first the screenwriter turned me into a vicious attack dog who goes nuts and attacks her human, but Katrina put her foot down and said over my dead body. And so they turned me into this really sweet and lovely dog who follows her human around everywhere she goes. I’m going to have a very important part in one of the future episodes. I actually save my human’s life, when her office is set on fire by her daughter’s mentally deranged husband who goes on a killing spree, but fortunately for her I smell the smoke and I wake her up and save her life that way.” She smiled. “That was a lot of fun to film, though I was really scared for a moment. They use actual fire, you know, though we were never in any real danger, thank God.”
“Thank God,” I echoed, wondering what life would be like for a famous dog like Coco, being on television and getting to save her human’s life. Plenty of fun, I imagined.
But just then, Uncle Alec’s phone chimed and when he picked it up and his face suddenly clouded, I knew our interview with Coco was at an end. And true enough, the moment he disconnected and said, “There’s been a fire at Franklin High School,” and both Odelia and Chase snapped to attention, I turned to Coco and said, “That’s our cue.”
Coco chuckled lightly, and said, “That’s what my director says every time I have to do a scene. ‘This is your cue, Coco. And… action!’ So funny.”
Dooley, hanging on Coco’s every word, looked a little sad to be leaving so soon.
“Would you like to have my autograph?” asked Coco.
Dooley nodded six times in quick succession, and Coco tripped off in the direction of the next room, and when she returned was carrying a piece of paper between her teeth. She then dropped it on the floor in front of us and true enough, it was a paw print.
“Oh, thank you so much!” said Dooley. “I’ll ask my human to frame it for me!”
“Well, Dooley and Max,” said Coco, already looking a lot le
ss diffident, “I guess I’ll see you around. And if you want an invitation to visit me on set, just say the word and I’ll try to arrange it with Katrina. Maybe you can even play a small part in a future episode.”
And as we left the house, in Odelia’s wake, I’d never seen Dooley looking quite so enamored… and with a dog, to boot!
10
When Odelia arrived at the school, the fire had already been extinguished by the competent men and women of the fire department. As she rolled to a stop they were rolling up their hoses and being profusely thanked by the school principal for a job well done. Uncle Alec and Chase, driving up in their squad car, parked next to Odelia in the school parking lot and the small company headed over to talk to the principal.
“Oh, Chief Lip!” said the principal, who was a woman with a kindly demeanor. Her red hair was aflame as it caught some stray rays of sunlight, and it surprised Odelia that the fire department wasn’t aiming its hoses on her instead of the fire they’d just put out. “Odelia Poole!” said the woman when she recognized her former pupil. “Now isn’t this a nice surprise!” She cut a quick glance at Chase, then said warmly, “I never did congratulate you on your wedding, Odelia.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Doubtfire,” said Odelia, well pleased. Mrs. Doubtfire had been her English teacher back in the day she’d gone to this school herself in a not so distant past, and she had always had a great fondness for the woman. “So what happened here?”
Mrs. Doubtfire’s face clouded. “One of our more troubled girls set fire to a classroom. Luckily the janitor discovered it in time, or a lot more damage could have been done.”
“Where is the girl?” asked Uncle Alec, adopting the more formal tone of a police chief.
“In my office with her mother. And I do hope you talk her out of causing more trouble.”
“Has she done this kind of thing before?” asked Chase.
“Not set fire to the school thank God, but she did throw a water balloon at Mrs. Richards last month. The girl is a real handful and frankly I’m at my wits’ end.”
“We’ll have a chat with her,” Chase promised.