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

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you need.”

“So Jamie was here early this morning? And she and Chickie met in the dance studio?”

“That’s correct. Jamie is one of Chickie’s oldest friends, and she always got access to her. Though this morning Chickie didn’t seem very happy when I ushered Jamie in.”

“They had a fight yesterday,” Odelia explained.

“Oh, right. That would explain the frosty reception.”

“When did Jamie leave?”

“Um, just after six, I would say.”

“And Chickie was still alive at that time?”

“Yes, she was. I saw her myself. She told me she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“And did anyone else drop by after Jamie left?”

“Nobody.”

“So where were you when Chickie was holed up in her studio?”

“In the kitchen, having breakfast,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.

“How many security people were watching the Hay family this morning?”

“Um, there’s a crew of five.”

“And you’re the person in charge?”

“Yes. I tell them where to go and what to watch out for. The house has a top-of-the-line security system. No one gets in or out without being seen. We have motion sensors and security cameras. Also, two people walk the perimeter, keeping their eyes peeled.”

“So… correct me if I’m wrong…”

“Yes, Miss Poole?”

“No one came into the house after Jamie left. And the house was so well-guarded you would have noticed if anyone did.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And yet Chickie was killed somewhere between…”

“The last time I saw her was at six thirty.”

“And Hortense found her at seven. So she was killed between six thirty and seven.”

The man nodded.

“So this must be an inside job, no question about it.”

“Yes,” Tyson agreed. “Someone who was already in the house must have killed her.”

“And only you were here, and your team, and Nickie, Yuki, Hortense…”

“And half a dozen staff.”

She gave the man a pointed look. “You do realize you’ve just incriminated yourself, don’t you, Tyson?”

“Oh, no, Miss Poole. I would never do anything to harm Miss Hay.”

“Is it true you’ve been in contact with Laron Weskit recently, Tyson?”

His eyes went wide and he stammered for a moment, but then finally cast down his eyes. “Yes, Miss Poole. Yes, I have.”

Chapter 11

It was our opportunity to listen in on a real-live interrogation and we weren’t going to miss it for the world. Odelia was grilling a potential killer. Dooley and I sat around, casually being inconspicuous, while Odelia asked this bodyguard a couple of zingers.

“Is this what a detective does, Max?” asked Dooley, and I confirmed that this was exactly what a detective did, which, in a sense, Odelia was and more.

“Laron Weskit contacted me last year,” said Tyson. He’d lit up another cigarette and was taking a long, fortifying drag. “He and Chickie had fallen out by then and she was in search of a new record company, ready to sign a contract for her next couple of albums. Laron needed someone on the inside, and asked me to be his eyes and ears.”

“He wanted you to spy on Chickie.”

“Yes, that’s what it boiled down to. He said Chickie had abandoned him, and it was only a matter of time before she did the same to me.”

“Did she have a history of dumping business associates, or members of staff?”

“Not that I was aware of. Most people left after working for her for a while. Chickie was a perfectionist, and if you didn’t do things exactly the way she liked, she could really haul you over the coals. So I knew Laron had a point. Sooner or later I’d make a mistake and it would be my ass on the line. So I decided to take him up on his offer.”

“Which was?”

“If I kept him informed of which record companies Chickie was in contact with, and the state of the negotiations, he’d recommend me to the stars he had under contract.”

“Do you think Laron is the kind of man capable of murder?” she asked.

“I doubt it. Laron is a businessman, not a killer.”

“Yes, but we all know what happens when an artist dies, Tyson.”

He looked puzzled. “I don’t…”

“The value of their catalog goes up. And Laron Weskit owns the rights to all of Chickie’s old songs, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” the man confirmed.

“It’s a strong motive for murder, Tyson. Was Chickie’s new album ready?”

“I… I’m not sure. Chickie was very secretive about it. She didn’t confide in a lot of people. Not even her own family. Only last week Yuki complained she hadn’t heard the new songs yet.”

“Who had heard those new songs?”

“Um, just the producer, I guess.”

“Is he here?”

“No, he’s in New York. Chickie has been coming and going to his studio for the past couple of months. I know because I’m the one who’s been driving her.”

Odelia smiled. “Tell me honestly, Tyson—you have heard the new songs, haven’t you? And you’ve been secretly recording them and sending them to Laron Weskit.”

“No! I would never do that, Miss Poole. You have to believe me. All I did was keep an eye on the record executives Chickie was in negotiation with. Laron was still hoping to reach an understanding with her. Make a new deal. He wanted to know if he still had a chance. These big players have deep pockets, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up.”

“Is Laron in town?”

“Yes, he and his wife are staying at the Hampton Cove Star. Charlie Dieber, who’s under contract with Laron, is being offered some kind of award. Keys to the city.”

“So Charlie and Laron are both staying at the Star,” said Odelia pensively.

“I guess so.”

Odelia nodded, and I could tell what she was thinking: time to pay a visit to Laron and Charlie, and find out what they’d been up to.

“One last question,” she said.

“Yes, Miss Poole.”

“Can you definitely rule out the possibility that an intruder managed to get past security and murder your employer?”

He stared at her for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. “No. I know I should probably lie and tell you such a contingency is out of the question, but that’s not the case. Theoretically there’s always a chance someone managed to sneak in unseen and out again, killing Miss Hay in the process. But the chance of that happening is very slim.”

“But there is a chance?”

“There’s always a chance, yes, whatever any security expert might tell you.”

Odelia returned indoors while the bodyguard stayed rooted in place, eagerly drawing from his cigarette. The man had just admitted something he probably shouldn’t have.

“If this is true, anyone could have come in and murdered Chickie,” said Dooley.

“Yes, any old prowler could have killed her,” I agreed.

And then a strange sound reached my ears. It seemed to come from the other side of the house. And as Dooley and I went in search of its source, we were met by Harriet and Brutus, who’d noticed the same thing. It came from across the fence, so Dooley quickly scaled it, followed by Brutus and Harriet. The only one who wasn’t scaling it was me.

Look, I’ve lost weight recently. A lot of weight. To the extent that I now fit through the pet flap again. But that still doesn’t make me the skinniest cat on the planet—the kind of cat that scales fences with effortless ease.

“What’s going on?” I yelled to my three friends.

“Come up here and see for yourself!” Harriet yelled back.

I stared at the fence. It was conveniently covered in ivy and looked scalable. So I took a deep breath, and put my first paw on the ivy, then slowly but gradually moved up until I’d reached my friends. And I was so over the moon with my heroic effort that I almost didn’t notice the strange young man who stood singing a famous Chickie song below us. He was also lobbing long-stemmed red roses over the fence for some strange reason.