Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Revenge

“I would have had a successful marriage if Shana hadn’t stolen my man.”

“She wouldn’t have stolen your man if he wasn’t ready to be stolen.”

“Wait, you also had a man stolen from you by Shana?” Odelia asked. She was feeling as if she was on an episode of the Kenspeckles. Which she was.

“Of course. Didn’t you listen to a word we said? Shana stole all of our men. That’s what she did. She was a man-stealer.”

Chase shook his head and jotted something down in his notebook. It wasn’t hard to figure out what. Both Shalonda and Shayonne had a motive for murder. Both of them had had their men stolen by their sister.

“Did you notice anything about the intruder last night?” Odelia asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Not a thing,” said Shayonne. “I slept like a baby. Though when I woke up I was feeling nauseous. But I already told Detective Kingsley about that.”

“You were drugged,” Chase confirmed. “Both of you were.”

“Yeah, I was feeling nauseous too,” said Shalonda. “I thought I was pregnant.”

Both sisters laughed. “Good one, Shalonda,” said Shayonne.

“What about that?” Odelia asked.

Shalonda blinked. “What about what?”

“Any plans to add a new generation to the Kenspeckle family?”

“Well, Dion and I were planning our first baby,” said Shayonne.

“But that’s off now, right?” asked Shalonda. When her sister didn’t respond, she repeated emphatically, “I said, that’s off now. Right?”

Shayonne shrugged.

Shalonda’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Oh. My. God. You’re not seriously thinking to procreate with that man, are you? He cheated on you with your own sister!”

“That won’t happen again,” said Shayonne. “He promised.”

“Of course it won’t happen again! Shana is dead. It’s physically impossible for that to happen again. That don’t mean he won’t do it with some other skank.”

“He’s a good person,” Shayonne insisted. “And it’s not because he tripped up once that he should be punished for the rest of his life. He deserves a second chance and I am possibly willing to give him one. Maybe. I’m still thinking.”

“Think again! Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“That’s not true. He promised he wouldn’t do it again and I believe him.”

Shalonda raised her eyes to the rafters, as if to draw strength from the honeysuckle. “I’m telling Camille,” she finally declared. “I’m so telling her.”

Odelia noticed how the cameraman had snuck up on them, and was so caught up in the dramatic scene that he'd dropped all pretenses and was openly filming. This was going to be another cliffhanger, she thought.

"So you didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, apart from the fact that you were both feeling nauseous this morning?" asked Chase, in a heroic effort to take back control of the interview.

“No, Detective,” said Shayonne. “I was out like a light all night.”

“Me too.”

“You are going to catch the killer, right?” asked Shayonne.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to find him, ma’am,” said Chase. Then he caught sight of the cameraman and cursed loudly.

The cameraman eyed him sheepishly. “Just doing my job, bub.”

“Get out of my face,” Chase said. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Better get used to it,” Odelia whispered. “You’re a TV detective now.”

“Thanks, ladies,” he said, ignoring her remark. “That’s all for now.”

“And it’s a wrap,” Shayonne cried. “Tell me you got all that?”

The cameraman gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs-up.

“You did great, Detective,” Shalonda said. “You’re a natural.”

“I don’t care,” he said wearily. “I just want to catch your sister’s killer.”

“Oh, but so do we,” said Shayonne.

“Yeah, that’s all we care about,” said Shalonda. “Now do you think we could do this again, Detective? Only this time I’ll sit there and you sit here.”

Chase sighed. “Just… shoot me already. Not you,” he said when the cameraman pointed his camera at him. “You shoot me and I’ll shoot you.”

Yep, this was shaping up to be a pretty interesting murder investigation.

Chapter 11

While Odelia and Chase went off to interview the two leading ladies of Cirque du Kenspeckle, Dooley and I decided to abandon our perch and do some more snooping around. Earn our kibble, if you know what I mean.

The big advantage of being a cat is that we’re pretty much invisible. We can stalk around and people will simply pat our heads and go on discussing their latest killing spree or plot a fresh massacre without a care in the world. That’s why we’re the world’s best spies. Well, flies would make even better spies, I suppose, as they can, you know, buzz around from suspect to suspect. But I’ve never heard of a fly living long enough to tell its tale to its human owner. Even supposing flies have human owners, of course, which I don’t think they have. Flies don’t provide as much warmth and affection as cats do.

We wandered about the house, and our first port of call was the kitchen. I think we were both curious to see what kind of food Kane was being fed.

The kitchen was an all-white, very spacious affair, with a gigantic butcher block in the center, and all the usual gleaming appliances occupying the enormous space. You could film a cooking show here. Maybe they did. We followed our noses, and padded into what looked like a mudroom, with coats on racks and boots neatly placed beneath them. And there it was: a placemat with two large bowls. We eagerly trotted up, and I have to say I was disappointed to find both bowls empty. Fortunately for Kane the Kenspeckles had invested in a Drinkwell. I wasn’t thirsty, though, and neither was Dooley.

“No food?” he asked.

“Looks like.”

“How is that even possible?!”

I was starting to feel sorry for the annoying little yapper. First his human was murdered by some maniac with a meat cleaver, then he'd been attacked by a feral cat, and chased around the pool by a violent intruder, and now, to add insult to injury, the Kenspeckles had forgotten to feed him.

“Looks like Kane has a lot to complain about,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, a thing like this would never happen in our home.”

We shared a look of understanding. Odelia’s place might not be the palatial house the Kenspeckles could afford, but at least she’d never forgotten to feed us, and neither had her mom or Gran. In that sense, we had it made.

“Come to gloat?” suddenly a raspy voice asked.

We turned in surprise, and saw that Kane sat glaring at us.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Far from it. Just curious to see how the other half lives.”

“The other half lives rottenly,” he said, and I noticed he spoke with a lisp, as if he had a speech impediment. Or maybe all dogs spoke like that. I wouldn’t know. I rarely move in canine circles. I’m strictly a feline person.

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “They forgot to feed you, didn’t they?”

He plunked down on his haunches and stared at us a little wearily.

“Shana used to feed me, but I guess that’s over now. She died, you know.”

“Yeah, we know,” said Dooley.

“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “We’re investigating her murder.”

“Trying to figure out whodunnit,” Dooley added, in case it wasn’t clear.

Kane nodded forlornly. “She was a good human. Always bought me the best food and allowed me to sleep on the bed. Took me everywhere, she did. Hong Kong, the Bahamas, Europe… We traveled the world together.”

"That's nice," I said, for lack of a better response. I didn't care a hoot about traveling. I'm something of a homebody. Traveling gives me the willies.