Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Revenge

“You’re through, Detective, and so are you, whoever you are,” she said as she gave Odelia a supercilious glance. “This investigation is terminated.”

Camille had a lot more things to say, and so did Chase, but Odelia decided she’d heard enough. It was clear they’d overstayed their welcome. While Chase argued with Camille, she went in search of her cats. She found them on top of the leather couch in the living room, chatting and chillaxing.

“What’s going on?” Max asked.

“They’re kicking us out,” she said.

“See? I told you,” said Max. “I told you this was the end.”

“But they can’t do that,” Dooley said. “We’re the cops.”

“Camille has her own ideas about her daughter’s murder,” Odelia said. She picked up both cats and carried them off. “She’s convinced it was a terrorist attack and that the FBI should take over.”

“She’s calling in the FBI?” Max asked.

“Yep. She said we’ve wasted enough time. She’s taking her family back to LA, where she can protect them from the terrorists. She’s going to trust the FBI to handle the investigation from now on and not us local yokels.”

Max and Dooley followed her to the pickup. Five minutes later, Chase came walking up, his face a thundercloud. They all got into the car, and as they were pulling away from the house, down the long drive and out of the gate, a fleet of black Escalades came roaring up the drive and passed them.

“The Feds,” Chase said. “Camille doesn’t waste any time.”

“So we’re officially through?”

“Yes, we are,” Chase said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

“Can they do that? Just… swoop in and take over?”

“Afraid so.” He glanced over. “It’s out of our hands now, Poole.”

“Pity we didn’t catch the killer,” Dooley said.

“Pity indeed.”

“What’s that?” Chase asked.

“Pity we didn’t catch the killer.”

“Yeah, damn shame.”

“Uncle Alec won’t like this.”

“He doesn’t have to like it. This time tomorrow the Kenspeckles will be gone, I’m pretty sure never to return. So it’s none of our business anymore.”

She settled back in her seat. Yep. This was the end, all right. The. End.

Chapter 22

“This is a nightmare,” said Uncle Alec, worrying the few remaining strands of wispy gray hair on his head until they stood on end.

Odelia and Chase were ensconced in the Chief’s office, discussing the unexpected turn their investigation had taken. A turn down the tubes.

“I talked to the FBI agent in charge. He told me to hand over any evidence we’ve managed to collect and they’ll take it from here.”

“Is he going to allow the Kenspeckles to fly out of here?” asked Odelia.

“Looks like. Camille wants her family safe and sound in that gated community where they all live. She’s hired the best muscle in LA to protect them from the terrorists she thinks are gunning for them. Ex-special forces.”

“I tried to explain we’re not dealing with terrorists here,” Chase said. “But Camille shot me down. She’s convinced her family is under attack.”

“I don’t understand,” Odelia said. “Why isn’t the FBI on the same page? They can’t possibly believe this was the work of some terrorist cell?”

“They’re convinced the killer somehow managed to outsmart Boa’s security team, and snuck in and killed Shana. It doesn’t help that I can’t offer them a suspect at this point. And arresting and being forced to release Dion Dread didn’t exactly boost my credibility. Plus it infuriated the family.”

“So what about the chloroform?” asked Odelia.

“What about it?”

“Don’t terrorists usually plant a big bomb and blow up the whole place? Why sneak in, drug the entire household and target only one person? That doesn’t sound like the work of a terrorist.”

“Try telling them that. I’m done explaining to the Feds how to do their job.”

“Did you tell them the note was an obvious fake?” asked Chase.

The Chief raised his hands and dropped them on the desk. “I’m the local moron here, guys. I’m a joke to these people. They don’t listen to me.”

“With the Kenspeckles gone so is our chance of finding the killer,” Odelia said. Uncle Alec was right. This was a nightmare scenario, and the worst part was that they were exactly nowhere in their investigation. They’d talked to all the principals and so far she didn’t have a single clue to the killer’s identity.

“I don’t know,” said Chase. “You’d almost think Camille doesn’t want her daughter’s killer found.”

"I'm sure she does," said the Chief, "but she doesn't trust you or me."

“When are they leaving?” Odelia asked.

“As soon as they’re ready. They’re packing up as we speak. The Feds will move them out in a motorcade, put them on a private jet and ship them off.”

“I wonder if they’re going to film this whole charade,” said Odelia.

“Of course they will,” said Chase. “This is all going to be on the show.”

“Yeah, this will probably be the number one show of the season.”

Odelia wondered why Max and Dooley hadn’t discovered anything. Usually they were great at ferreting out those small details no one else was capable of discovering. Trivial things that could lead to a break in the case.

Her phone buzzed and she excused herself, stepping into the corridor. It was her mother. “Hey, Mom. Everything all right?”

“Did you know that you and Chase were on TV just now?”

“We were?”

“There’s an item on the Kenspeckles, and they showed you and Chase leaving the house where they’re staying. You were waving at the camera.”

She remembered passing the camera crews camping out at the gate. “Yay. I’m famous.”

“Yay.”

“So what did they say?”

“Oh, nothing special. There was a lot of speculation about those black cars. They think it’s either the Men in Black arriving or the FBI. Your grandmother thinks it’s the Men in Black. I’m going with the FBI.”

“What would the Men in Black want with the Kenspeckles?”

“Well, the newscaster is convinced the Kenspeckles are aliens, colluding with other aliens on their mother ship to colonize the planet. The other theory is that it’s the FBI, and the local police are being sidelined. So what is it?”

“It’s the FBI,” she confirmed. “We’re out. They’re in.”

“They’re all aliens!” suddenly Gran’s voice sounded over the phone. “One look at Camille is enough to know she’s preparing an alien invasion. It’s in the eyes, honey. No amount of plastic surgery can hide those alien eyes.”

“The Kenspeckles are no aliens, Gran.”

“Rubbish. The alien wears Prada. Don’t be fooled by the fancy clothes.”

“Will you give me back that phone?” Mom said. “What did you say?”

“The FBI has taken over, Mom. Our investigation is officially a bust.”

"Oh, that's too bad. Can you invite your uncle and Chase over for dinner? We have barbecue. Does Chase like his mashed potatoes with garlic?"

She did a mental head thunk. Was this a time to think about barbecue? “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know how Chase likes his mashed potatoes.”

“Well, ask him, will you? This is important.”

Of course it was. “I’ll ask him.”

“Oh, and I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“A dog? Why a dog? Don’t we have enough cats?”

“Yeah, but dogs are affectionate. I hardly ever see Dooley or Harriet. They’re either over at your place or out and about. Dogs stick to you like glue. I was thinking of getting myself a French Bulldog, like the one Shana Kenspeckle had? I saw him on TV—they did a rerun of some older episodes of the Kenspeckles—and he looks so cute!”