Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

Odelia swallowed, and squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she was seeing things. Spend enough time investigating murders and that kind of thing is bound to happen.

But as she opened her eyes again, the body was still there, lying prone on the floor, a halo of blond hair spread out around her head, a spot of crimson at the center of that glossy blond mane. Next to the woman, a garden gnome of sizable proportions lay.

Odelia felt nauseous for a moment, then took out her phone and called the police station switchboard.

Dolores picked up at the first ring.

“Dolores, it’s Odelia. You’re not going to believe this, but I just found a dead woman in Dan’s office.”

“Oh, I believe it, sweetheart,” Dolores rasped in her characteristic smoker’s voice. She sounded completely unfazed by this development. “I’ll send in the cavalry, shall I?”

Odelia nodded, her eyes transfixed on that awful spot of crimson. It was still glistening, which told her that whoever had murdered the woman had done so recently.

Just then, the outer door to the office opened and Dan walked in. “Someone yanked off my windshield wipers,” he grumbled. “Can you believe it? Vandalism, if you ask—” He halted when he came upon Odelia, standing over the dead woman. “What the…” he began, then exclaimed, “Oh, dear Lord!” when he took in the shocking scene.

“I called the police already,” said Odelia. “Do you know her?”

“She must be my eight thirty,” said Dan, his white beard waggling distractedly.

“Your eight thirty?”

“Yeah, some woman called me yesterday. Said she wanted to see me about something. So I told her to come in at eight thirty. If that’s her, she must have been early.”

“Who is she?”

“She said her name was Heather Gallop. That’s all I know.”

“So you stepped out before she came in, is that what you’re saying?”

“Uh-huh. I got a call just after eight that someone was vandalizing my car, so I hurried out to go check. And sure enough both windshield wipers had been yanked off.”

Odelia checked her phone. It was eight fifteen. “So whoever killed her must have done it in the past ten minutes, right after you walked out and just before I walked in.”

“You didn’t see anyone?” Dan was licking his lips, looking distinctly ill at ease.

“No, I didn’t see anyone,” she said, studying the editor closely. “Looks like they used a gnome as the murder weapon.”

The editor cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe they’d use Gnomeo.”

“Gnomeo?”

“Yeah, it’s named after Romeo and Juliet. A gnome played a big part in the movie.”

“You’re talking about Gnomeo and Juliet? The kids’ movie?”

“Not the kids’ movie. Maria Power’s film debut. She played Juliet and had long and animated conversations with a gnome, her constant companion.” He looked pained.

As he took a step into the room, Odelia stopped him at once. “Better not touch anything,” she advised him.

“No,” he said, startled. “No, of course.”

In spite of her long acquaintance with her boss, or maybe because of it, she couldn’t help but feel he was acting a little strangely. Then again, people all react differently to murder, and in spite of the fact that Dan had been the Hampton Cove Gazette’s editor for forty years, he’d probably never had a dead person lying in the middle of his office.

But before she could ask him any further questions, the door swung open and Chase walked in, followed by Odelia’s uncle Alec, who was also Hampton Cove’s chief of police.

“Holy crap,” was her uncle’s first reaction. “Now why did you go and do that for, Dan?”

“What?” said the editor. “I didn’t kill her, Alec!”

“Then what is she doing in your office, her head bashed in with your pet gnome?” asked Alec sternly.

“I had nothing to do with it, I swear!” said the editor, and somehow Odelia had the feeling Dan’s sufferings had only just begun.

Chapter 4

“But Vesta, what does a neighborhood watch actually DO?” asked Scarlett.

Scarlett Canyon was looking her usual outlandish self: short-short skirt, sexy top that revealed far too much of her provocative cleavage, and stiletto heels that would have given Vesta vertigo had she chosen to wear something similar, which she hadn’t. On the contrary, she was wearing her usual blue tracksuit and her sensible white sneakers.

There had been a time, not all that long ago, when the mere sight of Scarlett would have made Vesta’s blood pressure spike to dangerous heights, and made her break out into a stream of vituperative a gangster rapper could learn something from, but those days were over. She and Scarlett had reconciled, and had become, much to everyone’s surprise, close friends.

No one in Hampton Cove would have believed it possible for two women as different as these two to become friends, but there they were, standing in line at the pharmacy on Downing Street and not even pelting one another with pots of moisturizer or tubes of hemorrhoid cream the way they used to in the old days.

“Well, a neighborhood watch fights crime,” Vesta explained. “But most importantly they make people feel safe. Make them feel as if someone is watching out for them.”

“But… isn’t that what the police do?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that exactly the sort of thing we pay them for?”

“Now see, that’s the beauty of it. The police can only do so much, so while they focus on your real hardened criminals, we patrol the streets and watch out for the small stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like people not cleaning up after their dogs, or littering, or young punks spraying graffiti or keying cars. You know, stuff like that. Plus…” Her eyes glittered as she said this. “Being in a neighborhood watch gives you permission to do what we do best, darling.”

Scarlett’s face lit up, and her cat-like eyes flashed. “Flirting with the hot guys!”

“Even better. Snooping around!”

“I like to snoop,” said Scarlett, nodding and pursing her plumped-up lips. “In fact I live to snoop. Not in a bad way, though. Strictly in a good way.”

Though Scarlett didn’t define what a good way of snooping could possibly be, Vesta understood. She, too, felt that only a community where people looked out for one another was a community where life was worth living. And how else can you look out for one another if not by knowing all there is to know about everyone?

“Do we need some kind of permission to launch this neighborhood watch?” asked Scarlett.

“Yeah, you have to be registered with the local police, but I’m sure my son will arrange all of that.”

“It must be so easy to have a son who’s a cop,” said Scarlett admiringly.

“Sometimes,” said Vesta, “it is and sometimes it isn’t.”

The line had moved and it was Vesta’s turn. Rory Suds, the grizzled pharmacist who looked like a stick figure, eyed her expectantly. “Vesta? What can I do for you?”

“It’s not about what you can do for me, Rory,” she said, “but what I can do for you.” She gave him her most engaging smile, which made her cheeks hurt. She wasn’t used to smiling, and it didn’t exactly come natural. “Scarlett and I are launching Hampton Cove’s first neighborhood watch, and we’d like you to be one of our informers.”

Rory blinked. “Is that so?” he said cautiously.

“Yeah, that is so,” said Vesta, losing the smile. She liked to see nothing but excitement about her new endeavor, and the pharmacist’s guarded expression told her he was anything but excited. “Look, it’s pretty simple. If you see or hear anything that strikes you as odd, you tell us. We all want Hampton Cove to be a safe and pleasant place.”