Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Revenge

“Hey, this is way cool,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, like a playhouse for grownups.”

As we neared the end, the voices became louder, and we saw that we’d arrived at the Spa & Wellness Center. The glass door was a little steamed up, and I pushed it open with my paw. We found ourselves in a darkened space, wall sconces casting a dim light, soft new age music providing a meditative atmosphere. Two men were face down on massage tables while two young ladies in white uniforms worked out the kinks in their shoulders and backs.

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” I said. “This is the life.”

“Being kneaded like a hunk of dough? We’re cats, Max, not bread.”

“It’s a massage parlor,” I said. “This is where they massage your muscles until they’re smooth and flexible.”

“My muscles are always smooth and flexible.”

I glanced at the skinny ragamuffin. “That’s because you don’t have any.”

“That’s not possible, Max,” he said. “Without muscles my skeleton would simply collapse.”

I keep forgetting that Dooley also watches the Discovery Channel. And it seems that from time to time he even manages to pay attention.

We ambled over to take a closer look, and I saw that both men had their heads stuffed into some kind of leather donut attached to the table. But even though their faces looked all scrunched-up and funny, they still managed to keep up a conversation. I now recognized them as Dion Dread, Shayonne’s husband, and Alejandro Salanova, the director of the Kenspeckles show. Neither man paid any attention to us, as usual. They were too busy talking.

“So it’s a done deal, then?” asked Dion.

“I still have to run it by the network,” said Alejandro.

“But that’s just a formality, right? As long as the producer’s on board, the network is bound to give us the go-ahead.”

“Yeah, I think it’s a cinch. We’ve never done a show like this before. What happens after you’ve been dumped by a Kenspeckle. It’s bound to be a hit.”

“I haven’t been dumped,” Dion protested. “Shayonne and I parted ways amicably. Irreconcilable differences and all of that stuff.”

“You can’t bullshit me, Dion. I was there when you had your big showdown with Shayonne, remember? Too bad the cameras weren’t rolling, or we wouldn’t have to reshoot those scenes. And at such a bad time, too.”

“Great time, you mean. All the attention is going to be on us now, with Shana’s body being found and the police sniffing around for the killer.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”

“Always look for the silver lining, Alejandro. That’s my motto.” He tried to grin, but it was hard with his face squeezed into that funny-looking donut.

I shared a look with Dooley. So Dion was getting his own show. That wasn’t going to sit well with the Kenspeckles. The only reason he’d risen to fame was because he’d married into the family. Now he was going to try and monetize that fame by establishing his own brand. I could see that this entire breakup with Shayonne and the murder of Shana was going to be benefiting him. If that wasn’t enough motive for murder I didn’t know what was.

“We have to tell Odelia,” I told Dooley.

“Tell her what? That two guys are getting a massage in the basement?”

“That Dion is getting his own show. I’ll bet it’s a big secret.”

“So? Getting his own show doesn’t make him a murderer, does it?”

“It sure does. He could have set this all up to launch his new show.”

Dooley gave me a worried look. “That sounds pretty far-fetched, Max.”

“No more far-fetched than a giant killer dog biting people’s heads off.”

He laughed, and then I laughed, and then we both laughed up a storm. It’s fun to laugh at a bully, at least when he’s not around. Until he is.

“Laugh all you want, bozos,” a gruff voice suddenly announced.

When we whirled around, we saw Brutus right behind us, looking pissed.

I gulped a little. “And? Any luck finding your vicious killer dog?”

Next to me, Dooley tried to suppress a giggle, but failed miserably.

Brutus fixed us with his best scowl. “I didn’t find a killer dog, but I did just overhear a very interesting conversation. A conversation that will interest Odelia a lot.”

“Hey. We heard it first,” I said, alarmed.

“Yeah, and we’re going to tell Odelia,” Dooley added.

Brutus gave us an evil grin. “Not if I tell her first, you’re not.”

And then he slammed the door to the Spa & Wellness Center in our faces.

Chapter 12

The interview concluded, Odelia and Chase crossed the lawn back to the house. They’d briefly talked to the cameraman. His name was Burr Newberry and he’d been out partying all night. He met a nice girl in a beach bar and they’d spent the night together. Since Odelia happened to know the girl, she’d called her and she’d confirmed Burr’s alibi. He was in the clear.

Shayonne and Shalonda had decided to go for a walk along the beach to clear their heads, though judging from the fact they’d asked Burr to tag along with his camera, not much head-clearing was going to get done. It made Odelia wonder if there was any part of the girls’ lives that wasn’t an act.

“I don’t understand how people can live like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” she exclaimed, gesturing at the house and the grounds.

“In blatant luxury? I think it’s pretty sweet,” Chase said with a grin.

“You know what I mean. To live your whole life in the public eye.”

“I’m sure those cameras aren’t always rolling, and the sisters aren’t always on. They’re actors, and this is their show. Once the shoot is over, they go back to their regular lives. Driving their hundred-thousand-dollar cars, wearing their hundred-thousand-dollar dresses and sleeping on their hundred-thousand-dollar mattresses. You know, just like the rest of us.”

“I still think it’s weird.”

“I actually think you’d be perfect for a reality show. You and your family.”

“Me? We’re pretty much the most boring family in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. A reporter who just happens to be a sleuth? A mother who singlehandedly teaches Hampton Cove kids the love of reading? A doctor who’s the best physician in town—and a great guy to boot. An ace police chief for an uncle. And a grandmother who’s…” He grimaced. “Well, I’ll admit she’s a little out there.”

“And don’t forget Max, Dooley and Harriet. They’d be a big hit, too.”

He stared down at her ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ shirt. “I bet they would.”

“So what about you? The top detective allowing a small town to take advantage of his detecting talents? Now that’s the kind of story that inspires.”

“You know what? We should do a show together, Poole.”

“Now there’s an idea.” A special of Say Yes to the Dress . She could be the bride and he could be the groom. A hot flush lit up her cheeks. Jiminy Christmas. What was wrong with her? “So who’s next on your list?”

“I thought first we’d do Dion and Damien, then focus on the TV crew.”

“We should also check into Robin Masters, Shana’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I’ll look into that.”

They found Damien upstairs, in his recording studio. As many of Merl Berkenstein’s clients were recording artists, they liked to have a studio on the premises in case they suddenly got inspired and decided to record a song. The studio occupied half of the second floor, a private movie theater the rest.

They took a seat at the mixing console while Damien, headphones perched on his head, was bleating into a sizable microphone inside the vocal booth. He was a shortish guy in his middle thirties, with a smoothly shaved head, a ginger goatee and his trademark sunglasses he could never be seen without. His voice, blasting through the speakers in the control room, sounded remarkably anemic without the background music giving it some oomph. He also sounded pretty pitchy. Nothing that Auto-Tune couldn’t fix though.