Ник Сайнт - Purrfectly Hidden. Purrfect Kill. Purrfect Boy Toy

“Nickie has a degree in economics,” said her mother. “She even has an MBA, isn’t that right, darling?”

“I have an MBA,” Nickie confirmed. “I worked for Ernst & Young for a while, until Chickie asked me to join the family firm as her personal accountant. She was doing so well it seemed like a pity not to enter the fold.”

“Her previous accountant swindled her out of a million dollars,” said Yuki.

“Jeezes,” said Chase. “Is there anyone who didn’t swindle your daughter?”

“That’s exactly why she decided only to work with family,” said Yuki.

“Dad works as our accountant now,” said Nickie. “He’s a CPA.”

“And what did you do for your daughter, Yuki?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, I worked as her stylist. That’s my profession, you see. I used to design clothes for a living.”

“And she was very good at it, too,” said her daughter.

“Oh, nonsense,” said the woman modestly. “I worked for Oscar de la Renta for a long time, but when Chickie needed me, of course I hopped at the chance.”

“So how many family members worked for your daughter, Yuki?” asked Chase.

“Um… let me think. Well, cousin Greg, of course. He’s our impresario—in charge of everything to do with Chickie’s tours and concerts. Cousin Sam organizes the car park and the fleet of private jets. Cousin Mimi takes care of the houses—we have a place in LA, a pied-à-terre in Paris, an apartment in London, and of course Lake Cuomo. Mimi does a wonderful job keeping them all in tip-top shape and making sure they’re ready when they need to be. She’s also in charge of hiring and firing all household staff.”

“And you all live together?” asked Odelia, surprised.

“Yes, we all live here,” said Yuki, “though Mimi is on holiday right now.”

“And Sam is in France,” said Nickie, “checking out a new jet.”

“And Greg is in Manhattan, talking to tour promoters about the US tour.”

“And cousin Martine—she’s our PR person—is in London setting up a video shoot.”

“We’ll have to call them,” said Nickie. “They’ll have to come back for the funeral.”

Mother and daughter were silent for a moment as they contemplated the reality of the situation: the family firm had just lost its raisin d’être—its shining star.

“I called your father just now,” said Yuki finally. “He was devastated, of course. He’s flying home immediately.”

Chase handed Yuki a piece of paper and a pen. “Could you make us a list of the people present at the house this morning, Yuki? We would like to set up interviews with all of them.”

“Oh, sure,” she said.

“So why is there only a small crew here right now?” asked Odelia.

“Chickie was rehearsing for a tour, and writing new songs,” said Yuki.

“My sister loved to be surrounded by her family and friends, but not when she was in creative mode. Then she liked to be alone—let inspiration be her guide.”

“Once she had a couple of songs written, or an idea of how she wanted the new tour to look like, the house would be buzzing again.” Yuki’s shoulders sagged a little. “Only now the house will never buzz again, will it? Not without my little girl at its heart.”

Chapter 10

Marge was just wondering if she hadn’t forgotten something when the doorbell rang again. She rolled her eyes and yelled, “Ma! Someone here to see you!”

A wild guess, but one she was pretty sure was correct.

The doorbell had already sung out five times that morning, every time announcing one of her mother’s admirers. When Mom didn’t respond, Marge stomped into the hallway and yanked open the door, only to find yet another pensioner on the mat.

The man flashed a set of perfectly bleached pearly whites and she forced a smile onto her own face.

“Hi there, Marge,” said the man.

“Hi there, Dick. I’ll bet you’re here to see my mom?”

“Unless you’re prepared to be my lady of the night,” he quipped.

“Ha ha,” she laughed without much enthusiasm. “I think I’ll leave that honor to my mother.” She stepped aside. “She’s in the basement.”

“Oh, a secret meeting in the basement, huh? Now isn’t that exciting?”

Dick Bernstein was one of Gran’s oldest friends, and a regular at the senior center. Mom had told her he was a great dancer, though Marge doubted whether that was why she’d invited him over today.

When the sound of people talking floated up from the basement, Dick said, “I recognize a great party when I hear one. Sounds pretty cozy, Marge—you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Very sure,” she said, and as she watched him potter off in the direction of the basement door, hoped the old man wouldn’t break his neck on those rickety stairs.

She wondered what her mother was up to now, but was afraid to ask. First Tex had turned the basement into a rehearsal space for him and his two doctor friends. Together they were The Singing Doctors, and they were actually pretty good. They played jazz with Tex on vocals, Denby on drums and Cary Horsfield on guitar. They’d soon shaken up the lineup, though, when it turned out Tex couldn’t sing. Now Denby was the frontman, Tex played drums, and Cary still rocked the guitar. They were looking for a trumpet player but so far no other doctor had responded to their request to join the band.

Ma had quickly shown a keen interest in The Singing Doctors and had volunteered as backing vocalist. And to Marge’s amazement it had worked out pretty well. Tex and Mom had called a truce, and for the first time in years they’d actually gotten along.

And now this. Ma launching a solo career, with the assistance of her senior center buddies. She just hoped the new Beyoncé would keep things PC down there.

Odelia had just stepped out into the garden to get some fresh air when she bumped into Max and Dooley.

“Odelia!” said Max. “We’ve been looking for you!”

She quickly glanced around to see if anyone could overhear them, then asked, “So what did you find out so far?”

“Well, for one thing,” Max said, “Chickie’s former best friend Jamie Borowiak dropped by the house yesterday, and they had a flaming row about Chickie allegedly trying to steal Jamie’s boyfriend away from her.”

“Charlie Dieber?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” said Max.

“And this morning,” said Dooley, “Jamie came back, and she and Chickie made up.”

“Though we only have Chickie’s dog Boyce Catt’s word for that,” said Max.

“What else?” she said.

“Well, we just overheard a big man talk to someone named Weskit on the phone. He was talking about a promise Mr. Weskit made him, and sounded pretty desperate.”

“What did this big man look like?”

“He had no hair on top of his head and a very nice white mustache,” said Dooley.

Odelia nodded. “Tyson Wanicki and Laron Weskit. Who would have thought?”

“Oh, and Harriet claims she cracked the case,” said Max, “but she refused to tell us how. So you’ll have to ask her what she found out.”

“She talked to the same big bird we did, though,” said Dooley, “so chances are that Mark—that’s the big bird’s name—told her the same thing he told us.”

“About Jamie and Chickie having a big fight over Charlie Dieber,” Max clarified.

“Great job, you guys,” Odelia said as she pressed kisses on top of her cats’ heads. And as she straightened, she caught sight of Tyson as he stood smoking a cigarette on the deck. She quickly made a beeline for the security man.

“Tyson? Can I have a quick word?”

“Sure, Miss Poole.”

“So we’ve talked to Hortense, and also to Yuki and Nickie, and so far the picture I have of what happened this morning is becoming a little clearer. And I was hoping you’d be able to confirm certain details.”