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

“Yes, Opal,” said Marcus obediently. He was a smallish man with a wispy little mustache and beard. He removed himself from the room to get Miriam on the phone.

“So what else have we got?” said Opal.

Odelia glanced around the table. It was hard to imagine one of these people could bear such a grudge against their employer they would try to kill her. And yet someone had.

Opal had sent them the files of all of the people on her staff, but so far none of them had raised any red flags. The trouble was, she couldn’t exactly interview them and ask them straight out if they meant Opal harm. She needed to be discreet. No one was supposed to find out what was going on.

“I think they all look suspicious,” Gran grunted. “They all look like serial killers to me.”

“And how would you know what a serial killer looks like?”

“Bad hair, bad breath, bad attitude.”

“In that case we’re all serial killers.”

Gran gave her the once-over, then sniffed her breath. “Yeah, you could use a mint,” she said, “and a haircut, and you could be a hell of a lot nicer to your grandmother.” She promptly got up and grabbed her purse. “I’m getting out of here. I have a headache.”

Odelia decided to follow her grandmother out. They weren’t exactly getting any wiser sitting in on this staff meeting, and she was getting a headache, too, probably from being cooped up inside an air-conditioned space with half a dozen bad-breath people.

Following her grandmother out into the hallway, she saw that Gran was making a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Great idea,” she said gratefully as Gran handed her a cup of the brew and took a sip from her own.

“This show is quickly losing a lot of its appeal for me,” said Gran. “I mean, it’s one thing to watch it on television, but a whole nother thing to watch it being made.”

“You never want to know how the sausage is made,” Odelia agreed.

“More emotion, more emotion!” she mimicked Opal. “We’re being manipulated by these bozos, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Poor Miriam. What did she ever do to deserve this? Mother-daughter bond, my ass. If I were her I’d flatly refuse to come on the show.”

“I don’t think these Hollywood people are in a position to refuse,” said Odelia. “If they don’t come on these shows, they don’t get the kind of attention their movies need.”

“The talk show circuit. I wouldn’t want to be seen dead on one of these shows.”

Odelia laughed. “Opal’s biggest fan has fallen out of love with her idol.”

“Oh, yes, she has,” said Gran. “And it only took one meeting.” She glanced around. “Where did I leave Hank?”

“He’s probably wandering around the studio lot. Lots to see for a movie buff.”

“Who told you Hank is a movie buff?”

“No one. I just figured…”

“Well, he is buff, of course. And he is a buff, too. That kid loves movies so much he wants to be the next Matt Damon. Which is why I brought him along. He hopes to secure an agent while we’re out here, so he’s probably trolling their offices as we speak.”

“How did you two meet?”

“We didn’t. I hired him.”

Odelia stared at her grandmother. “Come again?”

“You didn’t really think a kid like Hank would fall for an old dame like me, did you? I pay him for his company. He’s a gigolo.”

Odelia almost choked on her coffee as it entered the wrong pipe. “A… gigolo?”

“Don’t look so shocked. If men can hire a girl to keep them company, why can’t I hire a guy? He’s pretty good at what he does, and cheap. Just starting out in the business.”

“But, Gran!”

“Don’t you ‘But Gran’ me. At least Hank doesn’t try to convince me he’s Beyoncé’s choreographer when he’s not. Rock and Dick and the rest of those merry marauders? All liars and cheats. At least Hank will never lie to me. And he’s very affordable, too.”

Odelia was shaking her head. “Gran, really.”

“Oh, come off your high horse, missy. Wait till you’re my age and then we’ll talk again. And don’t you dare tell the others,” she said, wagging a bony finger in Odelia’s face. “I know what they’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. Now how are we going to figure out which one of these jerks is the bad egg?” She was pointing to the conference room they’d just left.

“Frankly I have no idea where to begin. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Max and Dooley overheard a strange conversation last night.” In a few words she brought her grandmother up to speed on Helga and Hector.

Gran hit the palm of her hand with her fist. “That’s it! It’s always the servants that did it! The server sabotaged the car and the cook poisoned the coffee. Of course!”

“But why?”

“Who cares why? We got em—or the cats got them. Let’s go and tell Opal now.”

“Let’s not. We’re not sure they’re the ones behind this thing.”

“Sure we’re sure!”

“No, Gran. Before I start throwing accusations around I want to be one hundred percent sure. What if they didn’t do it? Opal will lose her faith in us, and the whole thing will get messy. I want to talk to this Hector and Helga before we break the news to Opal.”

“Oh, all right. Have it your way, but I think you’re too prudent. For all we know they could have sewn a bomb into Opal’s kaftan which could detonate any moment now.”

Just then, a loud voice hollered, “I want to speak to Opal! Opal! Are you there! OPAL!”

Chapter 11

We followed the loud woman into the building, wondering what was going on. Security couldn’t hold her, and she stalked down the corridor in the direction of Opal’s offices.

“Opal Harvey! I demand to see you now!” the woman was yelling.

From different offices heads came poking out, and I was surprised to see how many people actually worked there.

“Opal has a lot of staff,” Dooley commented, having come to the same conclusion.

“Well, she does run a website, a magazine and a show,” I said.

“Opal Harvey! Show your face if you dare!” the woman was screaming. “OPAL!”

“Yes, yes, YES!” said Opal, suddenly emerging from the conference room, along with the rest of her staff. “What’s all this noise?”

“You ruined me!” the woman said, stabbing an accusing finger in the talk show mogul’s direction. “You did a piece on our farm and you ruined us!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” said Opal. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jacqueline Jackson, and you did a piece on our dairy farm last month, how badly we treat our cows, and how horrible our milk is, and now no one wants to buy our products and we had to close down the farm. I demand retribution!”

“Well, if I did a piece on your farm I probably had good reason,” said Opal, standing her ground.

“You had no right!” the woman screamed. She was squat and ruddy-faced, probably from screaming so much.

“Oh, you’ll find that I have every right.”

“I’ll sue you! I’ll sue all of you!”

“Oh, take a number, honey,” said Opal with a shake of the head.

“You heard me!” the woman said, fixing the people surrounding her with a menacing glare. All of Opal’s staff had now emerged from their offices. There were easily thirty or forty people standing there, taking in the surprising scene.

“I’ll sue every last one of you! You work for a disreputable company and I’m going to make sure the world knows what’s going on here!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Opal, clearly not impressed.

Security had finally caught up with the woman and now gently escorted her away.