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

“I really thought it was a good idea,” he said sheepishly.

And as they walked on, Scarlett thought that if she’d received a dollar every time someone had said that to her, she would have a nicely filled savings account by now.

“Are you going back to the office?” asked Tex.

“No, I thought I’d see what the big fuss is about in Town Hall,” said Vesta.

“I guess I’ll tag along,” said Tex. “I’m curious to know what that Lord fella looks like.”

“Me, too,” said Scarlett with a smile.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Vesta.

“What did I say?”

“It’s not what you’re saying. It’s what you’re thinking.”

“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking. Are you psychic now?”

“You’re thinking that maybe Lord Hilbourne is as susceptible to your feminine wiles as Tex here is.”

“I’m not susceptible to Scarlett’s wiles,” said Tex. Then he caught sight of Scarlett’s wiggling décolletage and rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I am a little.”

“For your information, I’m not going to try and seduce Lord Hilbourne,” said Scarlett. “Besides, the man is already spoken for, judging from the scene we witnessed in his suite.”

“You were in Lord Hilbourne’s suite?” asked Tex.

“Yeah, your daughter had an interview with the guy, and we chaperoned her.”

“Oh, so that’s what we were doing,” said Scarlett with a grin.

“Of course. You don’t think I was going to allow Odelia to go up to the hotel room of a guy who likes to invite loose women into his suite, do you? And all by herself, too.”

“Loose women?” asked Tex, then waved a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

And as they passed the Star hotel for the second time that day, Scarlett happened to glance up at the building’s frontage, and thought for a moment that she saw a familiar face appear in one of the windows. But when she shielded her eyes from the sun to have a better look, the face had disappeared.

It had looked a lot like the face of… Johnny Carew.

“Will you get away from that window!” Jerry yelled.

“I’m just looking, Jer,” said Johnny. “I can look, can’t I?”

“No, you can’t. What if people see you? They’ll start sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

“Nobody will recognize me, Jer,” said Johnny as he did as he was told and moved away from the window. “Though I did just see Tex Poole.”

“Tex Poole!” Jerry cried. “Did he see you?”

“Pretty sure he didn’t. Too busy chatting with his mother-in-law.”

“Oh, for crying out loud! You saw Vesta Muffin, too?!”

“Yeah, but like I said she was too busy chatting with her son-in-law to bother looking up. That friend of hers saw me, though. Hot babe? She’s always hanging around Vesta.”

“Scarlett Canyon,” Jerry growled, who by now knew pretty much everybody in the small town they’d adopted as their own.

“I don’t think she knows me, though,” said Johnny. “At least we’ve never been formally introduced.” He grinned. “Though I wouldn’t mind if we were. She’s very pretty.”

“She’s also old enough to be your mother.”

“She is? She looks real good for her age.”

“Will you get your mind out of the gutter and focus?”

“Yes, Jer,” said Johnny dutifully.

Jerry was considering a slight alteration to the plan. Though he firmly believed the best plans of campaign were the ones meticulously prepared ahead of time, and changing things up at the last minute was asking for trouble. And since trouble kept following them around wherever they went, this didn’t seem advisable. No, better stick to the plan.

“Maybe we can go to this reception thingy?” Johnny asked.

“And get Hampton Cove’s local PD breathing down our necks again? No, thank you very much, Johnny. I’ve seen the inside of their holding cell more than enough.”

He picked up the magazine he’d been reading and turned the page. It was one of those nature magazines, and the article described the mating ritual of the African red-eyed bulbul. He’d picked it up downstairs in the lobby, and he had to say it soothed him.

“You know, Jer,” said Johnny, “I was thinking we should consider a change of career.”

“Uh-huh,” Jerry said, as he read his article.

‘The call of the African red-eyed bulbul is a cheerful tillop, peep, peep, tiddlypop.’

“So I’ve got the perfect job lined up for us.”

“Is that so?” he murmured, only half listening to his partner in crime.

‘The red-eyed bulbul is a gregarious bird, often forming mixed flocks with other species.’

“Cops, Jer!” said Johnny.

He looked up from his magazine. “What?”

“Cops! We should be cops!”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“I mean it, Jer. Who knows more about crime than we do? I’ll bet the cops would pay good money for our expertise.”

“I don’t think so, Johnny.”

“It’s like that show about that guy who likes to wear white collars. And then he starts working for the cops and he catches all those other guys with white collars. I think the show was called—”

“White Collar. Yeah, I remember. I don’t think the cops are interested in our expertise, Johnny,” he said. He hated to disappoint his friend, but sometimes it was necessary to put the big oaf’s oversized feet on the ground again, as his brain tended to float off into space.

“Look, when this job is over, why don’t you and I go and have a chat with Chief Alec? Make him an offer he can’t refuse?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jerry, as he picked up his magazine again, this time turning to an article on the mating ritual of the great hornbill.

“I think you’d make a great cop, Jer. Just look at this.” And he held out his phone. It displayed one of those photo apps where a filter can be applied to your snaps. Johnny had taken Jerry’s picture and applied a filter that showed him in a police uniform, complete with police cap and everything.

In spite of his misgivings, Jerry had to laugh. “Will you look at that! That’s not half bad!”

“See?” said Johnny, grinning from ear to ear. “And I’ve got one of the two of us together.” And he showed Jerry a picture of the both of them dressed as cops. “Starsky and Hutch!”

Jerry’s grin widened. “More like Laverne and Shirley.”

“So who’s Laverne and who’s Shirley?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“What are we waiting for, Jer?!”

“I’m waiting for you to stop talking crap,” he said, his mood making that swift change it often did. “We’ll never be cops, you and me. Not after the stuff we did.”

“But, Jer!”

“Pretty sure you gotta have a clean record to be a cop, Johnny.”

“Records can be expunged.”

Jer threw down his magazine. “I’m going to the can. You keep an eye out, will you? And stop messing around with those damn filters,” he growled and snatched Johnny’s phone from his hands and dumped it on the bed where it bounced a couple of times.

Johnny was a great guy, but sometimes he got carried away.

Becoming a cop. What a joke!

Chapter 20

Marge had arrived in Town Hall for the big reception and was surprised to see her husband walk in, accompanied by her mom and Scarlett. Marge had snagged herself a seat near the front of the large reception hall, right in front of the podium, and beckoned to Tex and her mom and her friend. They soon joined her and she asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I, um, put a sign on the door,” said her husband, but refused to meet her eye as he said this.

“A sign on the door? And what about your patients?”