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

“You know?” said Charlene as she pecked a sweet kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek. “I think that’s kinda sexy.”

He gave her a quick sideways glance. “You do, do you?”

“Yeah, that my man would fight for me like that.”

“I can still knock his block off,” Alec suggested. “I happen to know where he lives.”

“I’ll bet you do,” said Charlene with a laugh. “You and half this town know where he lives. But I think you’d better not do any knocking of any blocks. At least not tonight. Can you promise me that?”

“Yeah, I guess I can,” said Alec a little reluctantly.

“And I can promise you that I have absolutely no feelings for the man apart from a general sense of gratitude that he made me look good in front of my entire constituency.”

“All right,” said Alec. “I can accept that.”

“I knew you would.”

And so Alec resumed his study of fishing tackle and Charlene, still smiling, picked up her own reading material again and proceeded to educate herself on the ins and outs of the new sewage system being proposed for the Northern section of Stanwyck Street.

And the newly united couple would have spent another comfortable half hour before going to sleep, if not suddenly the Chief’s and the Mayor’s phones both had started to chime, and both partners shared a look of alarm.

Our patrol had been a very relaxed affair. So far no suspicious activity or suspicious persons had been detected, and it looked as if soon another vigil would come to a successful conclusion. I was frankly eager to head down to the park and join cat choir, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that the others, too, felt like enjoying a few hours of harmless musical fun in the company of our many feline friends—and maybe even a few canine ones, too.

Unfortunately the night suddenly took a different turn. I guess that’s what happens when you ride with the watch: things have a tendency to go bump in the night when you least expect them to.

We were driving past Main Street at the time—Gran employs a very loose definition of the term neighborhood when determining her nighttime patrols. Secretly I think she sees it as encompassing the entire territory of Hampton Cove, which would probably make it a town watch instead of a neighborhood watch in my opinion.

And just as we slowly drove past the General Store, operated by that ex-member of the watch Wilbur Vickery, suddenly a police siren could be heard, and the blue flashing light of a police car loomed up behind us, illuminating our faces and the inside of the car.

“Damn, something’s happened,” said Gran, “and they didn’t tell us about it!”

“I told you we should invest in a police scanner,” said Scarlett.

“You don’t ‘invest’ in a police scanner, Scarlett. Only the police are allowed to have their cars equipped with a police radio—not us mere civilians.”

“So can’t you hack into one? I’ve seen plenty of crime shows where the bad guys listen in on the police radio.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“When has that stopped you before?”

“We’re the neighborhood watch. We’re supposed to stop crime, not commit it!”

“Oh, tosh. We’d only use it to stop crime so that’s a good thing, right?”

Gran wisely decided to leave this discussion on the table for now, for the police car had pulled over in front of the Hampton Cove Star hotel, and so Gran immediately pulled up behind it.

“Something’s going on at the hotel!” Scarlett said, seemingly forgetting we were all right there with her, and could determine what was going on for ourselves.

“Let’s go,” said Gran, and promptly exited the vehicle.

We all followed her example and got out of the car.

“Did I tell you that I saw Johnny Carew today?” asked Scarlett as we crossed the street and hurried in the direction of the hotel.

“You saw Johnny Carew? Where?”

“He was looking at me from one of those windows up there.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?!”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Wherever Johnny is, Jerry usually isn’t far behind. And wherever he is, a crime is usually in progress!”

“I thought they’d reformed?”

“Do pigs fly?”

“Ha!”

“Do pigs fly, Max?” asked Dooley, highly intrigued by this peculiar question.

“It’s an expression, Dooley,” I explained. “Pigs don’t fly, and Johnny and Jerry will probably never reform.”

“But what do flying pigs have to do with Johnny and Jerry reforming?” Dooley wanted to know.

But luckily we’d arrived at the hotel, and made our way inside, following in Gran and Scarlett’s footsteps. Soon we found ourselves in the lobby, and saw two cops enter the elevator and get whisked away before we could stop them and ask if we could join.

Gran hurried over to the reception desk and proceeded to take out a self-made laminated badge. She flashed it in front of the receptionist’s face. “Hampton Cove Neighborhood Watch,” she said curtly. “I understand you reported a crime?”

“Um…” said the receptionist, who was a young man liberally endowed with a smattering of pimples on his youthful face. “Oh,” he said, as that face suddenly cleared. “I know you. You’re the hot chocolate with extra cream and plenty of marshmallows. And you—the espresso, extra strong with a side order of petits fours and miniature pastry.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Gran. “Cut the crap and tell us what’s going on, sonny boy.”

“Oh, Lord Hilbourne has been abducted,” said the kid. “And judging from the pool of blood we found in his room, there’s a good chance that he was brutally murdered.”

Chapter 28

Odelia had been sleeping restlessly, dreaming of being suffocated by a braying crowd, when all of a sudden her phone started to belt out a loud tune and she groaned as she grabbed it from the nightstand. Immediately, as if in symphony with hers, Chase’s phone started singing its own song, waking up the burly cop and sending him groping for the device. Simultaneously they both spoke, “Yes?”

The voice that sounded in Odelia’s ear was her grandmother’s, who announced, “Better get over here, honey. Lord Hilbourne has gone missing—probably kidnapped.”

And as Odelia glanced over to Chase, it was obvious that he’d just received the same message, for he asked, “Where is here?”

“The Star hotel,” answered her grandmother, as if she’d heard Chase’s question, which probably she had.

Both future husband and wife hung up and then, as if they’d rehearsed the scene, swung their feet from the bed and started to get dressed. Moments later they were out the door, and, like a well-oiled team, were in Chase’s squad car and hurtling along the road in the direction of the downtown area.

“We have to talk about the wedding, babe,” said Chase as he steered the car along.

“I know,” she said.

“This can’t go on like this.”

“I know.”

“Look, you know how much I love you, and how much I’ve been looking forward to getting married to you.”

She nodded wordlessly.

“But if there’s something you wanna tell me, you better do it now.”

She looked over. “I want to get married to you, Chase. I really do.”

“So what’s the problem? Your mom told me you had suffered some kind of nervous breakdown this evening?”

She shook her head. “I just don’t see how I can go through with it,” she said, starting to tear up all over again, just as she had before. “The whole thing is just so…” She put a hand to her throat and mimicked being suffocated.

Chase’s jaw tightened. “I see,” he said.

“I’m not saying it’s you—or even the wedding. It’s just…”