Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Alibi

Paris ignored him. “So are you any closer to catching this killer? I like my human. I don’t want him to die.”

“None of us want our humans to die,” I said reassuringly. “And Odelia’s uncle does have a man in custody who may or may not have killed Chris Ackerman. It’s just that it’s very hard to be sure.”

“Why? Just use thumbscrews on the guy. I can guarantee a confession.”

Obviously Paris belonged to the Vesta Muffin school of thought. I grimaced. “That would be a violation of his human rights,” I said.

“What about my rights? If I lose my human I’ll be homeless.”

“Don’t worry, Paris,” said Dooley. “We’ll catch this guy.”

Paris tilted her chin and held up her paw. “Talk to the paw, cat.”

It was obvious there was nothing more to learn here. Which was just as well, as Odelia had appeared on the balcony, announcing that her interview was over, too.

“See ya, Paris,” I said.

The Yorkie gave me a smoldering look I found hard to interpret. Once I was inside, though, she yelled, “Thumbscrews, cat! Use thumbscrews! Think about my animal rights!”

“A dog after my own heart,” muttered Gran, and then we were on our merry way.

And not a moment too soon. I needed some food, a long nap, and a total absence of teacup piglets or miniature Yorkies. At least we could rule out Rockwell Burke as a suspect. If Paris said he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. The tiny dog might be a handful—at least if that hand belonged to a person with very small hands—but she was definitely not a liar.

As we arrived in the lobby, we came upon a strange scene. This time no teacups were involved. What was involved was a disheveled-looking young man, dressed in ragged pants and a long-sleeved hooded sweatshirt, shouting obscenities at the receptionist, who was clearly not happy about being accosted like this.

“Sir, I have called the police and they will have you removed from the premises,” the receptionist said. He stood a little stiffly, like a knight of old prepared to defend his lordship’s castle against an invading marauder.

“And I’m telling you I have to see Ackerman!” the young man screamed, banging his fists on the counter.

“I’m afraid Mr. Ackerman is no longer with us,” said the receptionist.

“I know he’s here! You can’t hide him from me—where is he? Ackerman! ACKERMAN!”

“Poor fella,” said Gran. “He’s obviously delusional.” Before Odelia could stop her, she walked up to the young man. “Mr. Ackerman is dead, son,” she said, loud enough to attract the raving lunatic’s attention.

For a moment, he fixed his eyes on her, and I could tell from the way his pupils were dilated that he’d imbibed some type of illegal substance. “You’re lying!” he told Gran. “He’s not dead! Ackerman can’t die! He’s immortal!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy,” said Gran.

The kid pounded his chest. “I’m immortal! I’ll live forever! ACKERMAN! ACKERMAN! ACKERMAN!”

“Oh, give it a rest,” said Gran, who didn’t like people making a fuss.

At this, the kid suddenly turned on her. “You’re evil, old woman—you’re part of the conspiracy to keep me away from Ackerman!”

“Gran, watch out!” Odelia shouted.

The kid had pulled back his fist and was about to give Gran a good pounding. The old lady must have seen it coming, though, for she’d quickly dug into her purse, brought out a small can of indeterminable origin, and the next moment was spraying it straight at her attacker’s face. I have no idea what it was, but it definitely made an impact.

“Aaaaaarrgggh!” he said, and dropped to the floor, clawing at his eyes.

Moments later, Chase Kingsley came hurrying through the lobby doors, accompanied by three more cops, and before long the troublemaker was duly booked and dragged off to prison, where hopefully he’d calm down a little.

“Who the heck was that?” asked Gran.

“Stalker,” said Chase.

“Who was he stalking?” asked Gran.

“Ackerman,” said Chase.

“That would explain the yelling and raving,” said Odelia.

“He wasn’t supposed to come within a hundred yards of Ackerman. Obviously he had math issues.”

“Technically not,” said Odelia. “Ackerman isn’t here, so he wasn’t in breach of his restraining order.”

Chase rubbed his chin, thoughtful, then locked eyes with Odelia. “You don’t think…”

“That he was at the library last night?”

Chase turned to Gran. “You were there, Mrs. Muffin. Is he one of the people you saw?”

“Um…” Gran darted a quick look down at us. Unfortunately Big Mac wasn’t amongst those present, so all I could do was shrug. “Ooh!” suddenly said Gran, bringing a hand to her head. “Do I suddenly feel woozy! Must be delayed shock from being attacked by that crazy hooligan. I better take a seat.” She walked off, giving me and Dooley a big wink.

“Check the sketches,” said Odelia, and Chase duly took out his phone and did just that.

For a moment, he flicked through the seven sketches Lara Dun had made on Big Mac’s instigation, then he growled, “Bingo.” He looked up, an expression of triumph on his face. “It’s him. He was at the library last night. And if his present behavior is any indication, there’s a good chance he’s the guy we’ve been looking for.”

Chapter 25

Chase was in his favorite position: seated next to his commanding officer, across the table from a known culprit, ready to sweat the guy until he confessed. Once again they were in the interview room of the police precinct, and this time the culprit in the hot seat was the ‘crazy hooligan’ who’d recently been maced by Grandma Muffin.

The shabby-looking man’s eyes were still red-rimmed and teary, but he’d calmed down on the ride over, and even more after spending about an hour in solitary lockup.

“Darius Kassman,” said Chase. “What were you doing at the Hampton Cove library last night, when you weren’t supposed to be anywhere near Chris Ackerman?”

Darius, a white-haired youth with bad skin, gave Chase a baleful look. “You can’t keep me away from Ackerman, dude. That man is like the sun and I’m the planet that revolves around him. He draws me in.”

“Planets aren’t drawn in by the sun. If that were the case they would be destroyed,” Chief Alec pointed out.

“Exactly, man. Ackerman is destroying me. His brilliance is such that it’s devouring me. Wiping me out.”

“Please tell us what you were doing at the library,” Chase repeated.

“Like I told you—Ackerman called me.”

“Called you,” said Alec dubiously. “Like, literally called you on your phone?”

Darius tapped his temple. “He called me in here, dude. He’s been calling me for a long time. Telling me ‘Come—come to me. Be with me. Be me.’ It’s been tough getting here—seeing as some cops picked me up in Philly two nights ago—but here I am. I heeded the call.”

“You were arrested for the possession of illegal substances,” said Chase. “And released on your own recognizance.”

“The judge knew I had a higher purpose to fulfill,” said Darius, nodding. “No prison could have kept me away from Ackerman and she knew it. So here I am.” He spread his arms. “Tell Ackerman His Loyal Servant has come. I commend my soul to him—to do with as he sees fit.”

“Mr. Ackerman was killed last night, Darius,” said Chief Alec. “Did you kill him?”

Darius frowned briefly, then laughed. “You’re trying to confuse me. Is this a test?”

“This is not a test. Mr. Ackerman is dead and we’re trying to figure out who killed him. Was it you?”

But Darius had covered his ears and was shaking his head. “Ackerman, Ackerman, Ackerman,” he was saying softly, swaying back and forth.