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

“No, I think that’s just a myth created by Jim Davis.”

“Jim Davis?”

“The creator of Garfield.”

“Okay. Well, I made extra, so if Max or the others fancy lasagna, there’s plenty.”

She took a seat on one of the high kitchen stools. “Do you think I’m losing my touch?”

“Losing your touch?” He walked around the kitchen counter and held out his hands. “Come here.” They hugged and kissed, and she found him looking at her as if she were the dish of lasagna. “Um, no. In my expert opinion you haven’t lost your touch, babe.”

When she slapped him lightly on the chest, he laughed heartily.

“You know what I mean. I just feel I’m not getting anywhere with this investigation. As if I’m flailing around with no idea what the heck I’m doing.”

“It’s still early days. It could take weeks to figure out what exactly happened this morning. I’m going back there tomorrow first thing and have another chat with Tyson. I asked him to collect all the CCTV footage shot since last night, through the morning, and I’m going to watch it to see if there’s any red flags. Maybe you can join me?”

“Watch security footage all day? No, thank you. I’d prefer to finally go and talk to Laron Weskit and the others.”

“Oh, hasn’t your uncle told you? The Mayor has extended his embargo. There will be no interviews of the Weskits or Dieber and Jamie for at least another day.”

“What? But he can’t do that!” She’d slipped off her stool and threw up her hands in dismay. “They’re important witnesses in a murder inquiry. Doesn’t that take precedence over the Mayor’s political games?”

“He argued they’ve been through enough, what with the burglary and all, and doesn’t want them ‘badgered’ by the police—his words, not mine. He says that he talked to Laron about the whole Chickie thing and Laron assured him he’s got nothing to do with that, and that he and his wife are as shocked and devastated as everyone else.”

“Applesauce! They have to talk to the police.”

“And sooner or later they will,” Chase assured her. “They’re not off the hook, Odelia.”

“Yeah, but who knows what evidence they’ve been able to make disappear. Plus, they’ve had ample time to coordinate their stories, so whatever they’ll tell you and Uncle Alec will just be the rehearsed story they want you to believe. The story they probably concocted with their legal team, to stay out of trouble as much as possible.”

“Alec told me to back off. He doesn’t want to go against the Mayor’s wishes.”

“God, this is making me sick.”

“Listen,” said Chase, placing plates and cutlery on placemats. “Vesta is working with Laron and his team now, right? Can’t you ask her to snoop around? Ask some questions?”

Odelia stared at her boyfriend. “That’s brilliant!”

“Hey, I have my moments,” said Chase with a grin.

But then Odelia’s face fell. “I’ll bet Gran won’t talk to me, though. She’s very upset.”

“And I’ll bet she will. You know what she’s like. When it comes down to it, it’s family first, always. And if she won’t talk to you, for whatever silly reason, I’ll have a crack at her. She’s always liked me.”

Odelia smiled. “I dare you to call Gran and to recruit her as a police spy inside Laron Weskit’s operation.”

“You’re on,” said Chase, and took out his phone. Moments later Gran picked up.

“Oh, hey, Vesta,” said Chase, giving Odelia a wink. “I wanna ask you a big favor.”

Chapter 26

We still strongly felt as if we’d let Odelia down. So the four of us agreed to return to the hotel as soon as the house was quiet, and see if we couldn’t have another look at those hotel rooms.

“Odelia is counting on us,” said Dooley.

“Yes, she is,” Brutus agreed. “But she’s simply too nice to tell us how she really feels. How we all let her down terribly.”

“I think we owe it to her to give it another shot,” said Harriet.

We were all in agreement. And so it was decided. The moment Odelia and Chase were sound asleep we all snuck out of the house and set paw for downtown Hampton Cove, where the Hampton Cove Star awaited. Unfortunately Odelia had retrieved the keycards she’d given us, so we wouldn’t be able to use them to get in. But we’re cats. Somehow or other we always manage to get where we need to be.

So we trudged along the sidewalk, the hour long past midnight, and soon found ourselves in the heart of town. Across the street from the Star is Kingman’s General Store, though I should probably say Kingman’s human’s General Store. Of course at this time of night the store was closed, and of Kingman there was no sign.

“Probably in the park for cat choir,” said Dooley, following my gaze.

“They’ll all be in the park for cat choir,” said Harriet. “Except for me, and to be absolutely honest, I’ll probably never go to cat choir again.”

“But why, sugar biscuit?” asked Brutus. “I thought you did pretty well tonight.”

“Didn’t you see the horrified looks on people’s faces? And didn’t you hear the laughter when my performance was over? They hated me—probably thought it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever seen or heard.”

“I don’t think so, snow bunny. I think they were surprised, that’s all. They’ve never seen that kind of performance before. And you know what people are like. They hate whatever’s new—at least at first. But give them some time and they’ll appreciate your performance for what it was: refreshing and adorable.”

“Oh, Brutus, my snickerdoodle, you always know exactly what to say to cheer me up.” Then her shoulders sagged. “But I still think it was terrible, and by now word will have spread through Hampton Cove’s cat community and soon they’ll all be laughing like hyenas. No, I’m never going to cat choir again and that’s my final word.”

We’d been staring up at the hotel while Harriet shared her self-critique with us, and suddenly I was struck by an idea. “Why don’t we try the fire escape?” Once, not all that long ago, Dooley and I had managed to get into the hotel that way.

And so we quickly crossed the road, ducked into a side alley and arrived at the back of the hotel. And there, gleaming and majestic, was a metal fire escape. We scaled the wire mesh staircase and soon arrived on the fourth-floor platform. Unfortunately it was one of those doors that only open from the inside, with a push bar. And since there was no one to push on this particular bar, we were stuck. But then Harriet decided to use her secret weapon: a repeat performance of tonight’s song, and this time we were four, not two, with Dooley, myself and Brutus provided backing vocals.

It must have made quite an impression, for very quickly a window to one of the rooms opened and a shoe whizzed through the night and hit me smack in the head.

“Ouch!” I said.

But seeing as this appeared to be the price to pay for achieving greatness, I didn’t let up and kept on howling away. More windows opened, and more shoes zoomed through the air. Few of them hit their targets, except a big boot that hit Brutus in the back.

“Hey, watch it, you brute!” he yelled.

And then, finally, the moment we’d all been waiting for arrived: a sleepy-looking little girl opened the door. Rubbing her eyes, she said, “Mommy? It’s the cat from the show.”

“Come back to bed, honey,” a woman’s voice sounded from halfway down the hallway.

“But it’s the pretty white cat from the show, mommy. And she’s singing again.” She bent over and petted Harriet, who purred up a storm in response.

“Annabella! Back to bed!” the same voice came back, and Annabella, after a moment’s hesitation—the sight of Harriet, a star performer, was clearly very enticing—she ran along to her mother. Soon all was quiet once more. Except this time the door was open, and so we quickly entered.