Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Alibi

Chase’s response threw him for a loop, though. He’d always viewed Chase as the perfect son-in-law and the perfect mate for his daughter. In fact he’d been thanking his lucky stars on a daily basis ever since Chase had entered their lives. And now this?

“Odelia? Is there something wrong with my daughter, Chase?”

“Oh, no. Nothing is wrong, sir. Nothing at all. It’s just that…” Chase rubbed his square jaw, looking sheepish. “The thing is…” He cleared his throat. “The fact of the matter is, sir…”

“Oh, please cut the ‘sir’ thing, son. We’ve known each other long enough now for you to call me by my Christian name.”

“Yes, Tex,” said Chase dutifully.

Tex waited patiently. He’d had patients who were so reluctant to talk about their ailments that it took him almost the entire allotted time to drag it out of them. Chase looked like he was going to need even more than that. “So? Just spit it out, son,” he said finally when no more information seemed forthcoming.

Chase steeled himself. “I’m just going to come out and say it, sir—Tex. The thing is, I like your daughter a lot… Tex. In fact I love her. Love her a whole damn lot. And what I wanted to ask you, sir, is this…” He cleared his throat noisily. If he’d had a hat, he would have turned it over nervously between his fidgety fingers.

Oh, darn it, Tex thought. This was it, wasn’t it? This was that scene you saw in the movies. Where the future son-in-law asked his future father-in-law for the hand of his daughter in marriage. The fresh-faced freckled youth would preface his remarks with a few well-meant ‘gee whizes’ and ‘oh, gollys’ and pepper them with a few ‘aw, shucks’ when finally his future dad-in-law gave his blessing. At which point cigars would be brought out and both men would smoke a fat gasper while gazing fondly off into the horizon.

Tex rearranged his avuncular face into an expression of solemnity befitting the occasion. “Ye-es,” he said slowly, knitting his fingers on his desk’s blotter.

“The thing is, sir—Tex…” Chase halted, then started again. “The thing is that Odelia and I were moving in a direction I thought… And then her grandmother moved in and…”

Tex nodded. He knew exactly where Chase was coming from. Marge’s mother had been the bane of his existence for many, many years. In fact she was the one person who sometimes made him doubt his calling as a man devoted to stop people from dying.

“And now I don’t know how to proceed,” Chase said, lifting his arms in a gesture of confusion.

Tex finally saw all. This man hadn’t come here to ask for his blessing. He’d come to seek some fatherly advice on how to woo Odelia. Grandma Muffin’s shenanigans had torn these two lovebirds asunder and now it was up to Tex to put them together again. Chase’s dad had died years ago, so he had no other father figure to turn to other than Tex. And Tex was happy to take on the role—in fact he was honored—even touched to the verge of tears.

“Chase,” he said in his warmest, most gregarious manner, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

Chase shifted forward on his chair. He looked eager. “Yes, sir—I mean, Tex?”

“This secret has the power to unlock the heart of any Poole woman.” Except Vesta, but that was because she was a Muffin, not a Poole. And because she didn’t have a heart.

“Yes?” said Chase, hanging on Tex’s every word now.

“This is the method I used to woo and win Odelia’s mother’s heart, and this is the method you, if you choose to accept the mission, can use to win over my little girl’s heart.”

He choked back a tear. A sudden image of Odelia dressed in white striding down the aisle on his arm had suddenly flashed through his mind. “This is what you need to do.”

Chase was practically falling from his chair, his ears pricked up, his eyes wide.

“One word,” said Tex. “Serenade.”

Chase stared at Tex. Tex smiled at Chase. When the cop didn’t speak, Tex threw his arms wide. “You have to serenade her, son! Go old school. Head on over to Odelia’s house at the stroke of midnight, take up your position under the balcony, and belt out your finest ballad. I’d suggest Frankie Avalon’s Venus . Worked like a charm for me. Marge loved it.”

Grandma Muffin had loved it a lot less. Marge had still been living at home at the time, and Tex had gotten mixed up about whose window he was under. Gran had poured out her chamber pot on top of Tex’s head, later claiming she’d figured he was a cat in heat.

Which of course he was.

“A ballad,” said Chase dubiously.

“A ballad,” said Tex, smiling winsomely.

“There’s only one problem, Tex. I can’t sing.”

“Neither can I, but that didn’t stop me. Look, son. If you’re going to win my daughter’s heart, you’re going to have to make a bold move. Trust me, women love men who make bold moves.”

“Do they also love men who make total, utter fools of themselves?”

“They do, they do,” said Tex, though he kinda doubted it. “I’m sure you won’t make a fool of yourself, though. Sing.”

“What?”

“Sing. Pick any song and let me hear what you’re capable of. Judging from your speaking voice I’m pretty sure you’ve got a nice baritone. Women love a nice baritone.”

When Chase didn’t make any attempt to burst into song, Tex switched on the small radio that was located next to his desk. As luck would have it, the unforgettable Sam Cooke was singing.

“Try it,” said Tex kindly. “Sing along with the maestro.”

Hesitantly, Chase yowled, “She was only sixteen, only sixteen…”

“Mh,” said Tex, folding his hands in front of his face and tucking in his chin. “Let’s pick another one. Odelia is not sixteen, after all.”

“What about my voice?” asked Chase eagerly. “Do you think it holds up?”

Tex decided not to go there. Your kindly music teacher knows when to refrain from criticism and turn up the encouragement instead. He changed channels on his small radio and Neil Sedaka’s voice filled the room.

Dutifully, Chase sang, “Oh! Carol, I am but a fool.”

“Nice,” Tex coached. “Try to focus on the melody. Yes, that’s it.”

“If you leave me I will surely die,” Chase warbled, switching from his impersonation of an asthmatic sheep to that of Walter the singing French Bulldog.

Tex winced, though he tried not to show it. It was clear that Chase would never get past the first auditions for The Voice or American Idol . “That’s great, Chase,” he said finally, clapping his hands encouragingly. “I’ve heard enough.” That, and his ears were bleeding.

Chase gave him an expectant look. “Do you think I’ve got what it takes, Doc?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said Tex. “Odelia will love it. Love it!” More likely she’d take pity on the poor sap and kiss him to end the torture, both his and hers. He smiled at the tough cop. “Though you might want to choose a different song. Something more attuned to my daughter’s musical sensibilities.”

“She likes Ed Sheeran,” said Chase with enthusiasm.

“There you go,” said Tex, who had no idea who Ed Sheeran was.

“Perfect,” said Chase.

“Well, you know what they say about perfection. It doesn’t exist.”

“No, Perfect is the name of the song.”

“Oh, swell.” And as they walked out of the office, Tex reminded himself to buy a new pair of earplugs.

Chapter 30

That night, Dooley, Brutus and I headed into town with a very specific mission in mind: we were going to save Brutus utilizing the power vested in Shanille by a higher being.