Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Sidekick. Purrfect Deseit. Purrfect Ruse [calibre 5.14.0]

Odelia nodded. “Looks like a kidnapping gone wrong to me. Now all we need to do is find out who kidnapped Bob and why they killed him, even though the ransom was paid. Though I have to say that Max and Dooley’s source seems convinced Bob arranged his own kidnapping so he could lay his hands on the money.”

“Really,” said Scarlett, arching a perfectly stenciled eyebrow. “Who’s the source?”

Odelia swallowed. “Evelina’s pet… snail.”

Both ladies’ eyes went wide as saucers. Luckily the elevator had jerked to a stop and the door opened before Odelia had to explain the finer points of this peculiar new friendship that had formed between two cats and a snail.

A young woman with a clipboard was waiting for them when the elevator door opened. She was wearing glasses and a look of professionalism. “Odelia Poole?” she asked. She then frowned at the two older ladies. “And you are…”

“My two assistants,” Odelia hastened to explain. “Vesta Muffin and Scarlett Canyon.”

The woman’s eyes traveled the length of Scarlett’s body. As usual, Gran’s best friend was dressed to impress, with an ultra-short skirt, fishnet stockings, and a crop top that did much to emphasize her sizable bust.

“Um… I’m not sure…” said the woman, glancing down at her clipboard.

“It’s all right,” said Gran. “We’ll be quiet as church mice.”

“Quieter!” Scarlett added cheerfully.

The woman blinked and nodded, then walked them to the door of the Presidential Suite and gave it a gentle tap. The door opened and a young man with sizable sideburns tapering to a point at the corners of his mouth and a narrow face stood in the door. “Your two o’clock, sir,” said Clipboard Girl, and the guy gave a curt nod, then walked away. “Remember, you’ve got twenty minutes,” said the girl, and closed the door behind them.

The suite was impressive. The walls were all velvet wallpaper with a flower motif, and the carpets were even more sumptuous than the ones downstairs in the lobby. The room they were in was only one part of the multi-room suite but it was lavish enough, with a salon that looked both opulent but also cozy. “Please take a seat,” the young man with the funky sideburns said. He gestured to an overstuffed sofa and took a seat himself. “I hope this won’t take long. I have a busy afternoon, and I need to get ready.”

“I only need a few minutes of your time,” Odelia assured the man.

He gave a serious nod and placed an arm across the back of the sofa and balanced a leg on his knee, showcasing a black patent leather brogue and orange Burlington socks.

“A bold choice,” said Gran, indicating the man’s socks.

He glanced down at the vestimentary fashion statement and displayed a slight smile. “If I have to wear conservative clothes the least I can do to offset them is my choice of socks,” he said. “I have them in every available color. And you are?”

“Vesta Muffin,” said Gran. “I’m Odelia’s grandmother.”

The man’s noble brow furrowed. “Grandmother. I didn’t know you American reporters liked to bring your grandmothers along on your interviews. And who are you?” he asked, addressing Scarlett. “Miss Poole’s aunt, I presume?”

“I’m Vesta’s friend,” said Scarlett. “Though Odelia has always considered me an honorary aunt.”

“Auntie Scarlett,” said Gran with a grin. “Now those were the days.”

“Is it true that you invited a girl up here last night?” asked Scarlett, earning herself a reproachful flash of the eyes from Odelia and blithely ignoring it.

The young man shuffled a little uncomfortably in his seat. “And what if I did?”

“She didn’t come out this morning and the hotel staff is worried something might have happened to her,” said Scarlett, whose definition of ‘quiet as a church mouse’ was a very unorthodox one.

The young man grinned. “They can relax. She didn’t leave. In fact she’s still in my bed, right now, fast asleep. Though we did share breakfast together.”

“Oh,” said Scarlett. “So when the cleaner came in…”

“Oh, God,” said Lord Hilbourne, his eyes raking the ceiling in a look of exasperation. “I should have known she was up to something when she insisted on changing the sheets. Well, she was hiding in the closet at that point, obviously. You see, she snuck in here through the service elevator, courtesy of a very open-minded night receptionist—though I’m inclined not to give him that generous tip I promised now that apparently he’s blabbed all over town about my recent conquest.”

“You do know that she’s a lady of pleasure, don’t you?” asked Gran.

“And I can assure you she earned the moniker.” He turned to Odelia. “What is this? Are you all members of the local League Against Moral Turpitude? If I’d known you were going to make such a big fuss about this I wouldn’t have come to Hampton Cove.”

“I can assure you we don’t care one way or the other what you do in the privacy of your own suite,” said Scarlett. “Though we did wonder what happened to the girl.”

“Do you want proof of life?” asked the young man. “I can give you proof of life.” He swiftly got up.

“That won’t be necessary,” Odelia hastened to say.

“Cody!” Lord Hilbourne bellowed. “Come out here a moment, will you? There’s some people here who think I murdered you and flushed your body parts down the toilet.”

He seemed to think the whole thing was extremely entertaining.

The door to what Odelia presumed was the bedroom opened, and a smallish young woman with an abundance of dark curls stuck her head out. She looked sleepy. “What is it?” she asked. Then, when she caught sight of the three guests seated on the sofa, she uttered a startled cry and immediately retracted her head and closed the door.

“See?” said Lord Hilbourne. “I didn’t kill her. In fact she has assured me she’s enjoying my company to such an extent she would like to stick around a little while longer.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Odelia, feeling mortified now. If her editor found out that this was the way she’d conducted this very important interview, there would be hell to pay.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to get away with this. People talk, and especially the staff at small hotels like the Star.” He took a seat again and draped his languid form across the sofa. “Now please tell me you have more questions for me—and not merely a burning desire for me to prove I’m not an ax murderer.”

Odelia directed a scathing look at her grandmother and Scarlett, who both shrugged and gave her their best look of absolute innocence.

Chapter 14

“So maybe we exaggerated,” said Harriet as she surveyed the four empty bowls, positioned neatly in a row. Even the few kernels of kibble that had fallen by the wayside in the process of eating had been snapped up, and the part of the kitchen devoted to the cats’ dietary needs was now so neat and clean it looked as if a cleaner had dropped by to give it a good once-over.

“Do you think Max and Dooley will notice we’ve eaten all of their food?” asked Brutus sheepishly.

They’d first emptied out their friends’ bowls at Marge and Tex’s place and then, when they got bored sitting at home waiting for their humans to show up, had moved over to Odelia’s home and finished the job there.

“Of course they’ll notice,” said Harriet. “So you’ll do well to stick to the story, all right?”

“The story?” asked Brutus, who’d already forgotten what excuse he’d dreamt up for this culinary carnage.

“That the dogs snuck in and ate everything.”

“What dogs?” asked Brutus, who liked to get his lies nailed down in all their stark specificity. Someone who was good at lying had once told him that the secret to a good lie is the telling detail, and it had stuck in his head ever since.