Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Revenge

“Oh, but that’s wonderful,” said Mom, clasping her fingers together as if in prayer. “The two of you together, cracking a case. That’s so exciting!”

Odelia didn’t know if it was exciting or not, but she thanked her lucky stars her uncle had made this arrangement. This way she could be where the action was, and didn’t have to snoop around. Ever since he’d arrived in town, Chase had been reluctant to share information with her, considering her just another nosy reporter. Uncle Alec had quickly made it clear they did things differently down here in Hampton Cove, and since she was a great reporter he considered her an asset, not a hindrance. Chase had reluctantly complied.

“Let’s go,” he said a little gruffly.

“Let’s go, you guys,” she repeated to her cats.

He frowned. “You’re not thinking about dragging your cats along?”

“Of course. They…” She searched for a good excuse. She couldn’t tell him she wanted them to investigate. Talk to other cats. Figure out clues.

“They need the fresh air,” Mom supplied helpfully.

“Then send them into the backyard,” said Chase. “Plenty of air there.”

“Sea air, Chase,” Mom clarified. “It’s good for their… complexion.”

Chase had caught sight of his own cat and picked him up. “What do you think you’re doing here, buddy? No wonder I couldn’t find you this morning.”

“Brutus and Harriet are an item now,” Mom said with the sweetest of smiles. “You don’t want to get in the way of true love, do you, Chase?”

Chase seemed on the verge of saying something scathing, but controlled himself. “Let’s just get going. I’d like to arrive before the coroner shows up.”

Five minutes later, they were riding in Chase’s squad car, which was a souped-up beat-up old pickup truck, four cats in the back and Chase looking a little glum. He clearly wasn’t happy about this new arrangement, and he wasn’t happy about having to drag four cats along for the ride either.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“When Damien LeWood woke up this morning he found his wife next to him. Only she was missing her head.”

“That’s not good.”

He nodded grimly. “It was found on the dining room table, an apple in her mouth and a note pasted to her forehead. The note was signed Al Kida.”

“Al-Qaeda?”

“Not exactly.”

He quickly showed her a picture on his smartphone. The uniforms who’d arrived on the scene must have taken it. The note was signed by Al Kida.

“That’s weird.”

“You said it.”

“Poor Shana.” She might not have been a fan of the show, but nobody deserved to die such a gruesome death.

He slid her a sideways glance. “So are you up for this?”

“Up for what?”

“Chief Alec wants us to handle this investigation together. I’m running point, as I’m the cop in this particular constellation, and you’re…” His lips tightened, as if he had trouble uttering the words. “… the consultant.”

“You mean like Richard Castle?”

“Who?”

“Rick Castle? From the TV show?”

He grimaced. “Something like that.”

“So in this ‘constellation’ I’m Castle and you’re Kate Beckett, right?”

He glanced over and she thought she detected a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ll get me one of those fancy espresso machines?”

She laughed. “Whatever floats your boat, Detective Kingsley.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever?”

A tingle languidly fluttered up her spine. Was he flirting now? No way. Chase Kingsley didn’t flirt. “Within the boundaries of propriety, of course.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Poole.”

Oh, boy. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 4

They arrived at the beach house the Kenspeckles had rented for the summer. It was located along a strip of waterfront that was home to some of most expensive beachfront properties in Hampton Cove. This was where the other half lived. Each time she drove past the million-dollar McMansions she was impressed with the kind of lifestyle the rich and famous could afford. It was so far outside her own experience she felt like Alice in Wonderland.

The house the Kenspeckles had selected belonged to real estate mogul Merl Berkenstein. One of several top-tier properties the local estate agent had on offer. Merl had expensive tastes, which was probably why his offerings were so popular. When Chase's pickup slowed to a stop in front of the gate, she saw the black wrought-iron contraption was topped with gilded spikes and adorned with a lion's head captured in full roar. The Berkenstein logo.

Merl’s business partner had a major stake in one of Hollywood’s premier talent agencies, which was how he managed to entice so many A-listers to rent his properties. The ones that enjoyed staying here often ended up buying. They joined such luminaries as Steven Spielberg, Alec Baldwin and Jerry Seinfeld.

“Nice place,” she said as the gate slowly swung open.

“Yeah, it’s a great little pad.”

“It’s weirdly comforting that tragedy strikes even the best homes.”

He glanced over. “Was that sarcasm, Poole?”

“I don’t do sarcasm. Just an honest observation.”

“I could have sworn that was sarcasm.”

“Nope. Not sarcasm. Not me.”

Chase sped along the caramel-colored gravel drive and she looked around at the perfectly manicured grounds. The lawn was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, the shrubs sculptured to resemble Greek gods, and a smattering of angel and cherub statues dotted the landscape. Cherubs were a mainstay at Merl Berkenstein’s properties. Maybe the man had a cherub fixation. Maybe his mother had given him a cherub pacifier and then taken it away.

The drive took a turn and the house loomed up before them. It was invisible from the road, which wasn’t Merl’s habit. He usually didn’t like his houses to play peekaboo. He liked them to be visible from afar. To shock and awe with their sheer opulence and grandeur. To inspire envy. This one was designed to provide a measure of privacy, something she didn’t associate with the Kenspeckles. When you make a business out of showing off every inch of skin and milking every emotional outburst to an eager audience it’s hard to imagine there’s anything left to hide from the public eye. Perhaps even the Kenspeckles drew the line somewhere, though it was hard to know where.

The house was one of those Jekyll & Hyde places: the front was completely different from the back. For some reason the architect had kept the facade intact but torn down the rest of the house. The front was classic Victorian. Large vaulted windows offered a look at the gardens, and a wraparound verandah with lime and pink columns prettied up the view. There was even a small tower with a gilded weather vane perched on top.

“Nice.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” said Chase, parking his car in the circular driveway.

“Security is probably tight?”

“Pretty tight. The Kenspeckles brought along their personal security detail, then hired more muscle in town. They’re not fooling around.”

“And still they couldn’t keep out the bad guys.”

They exited the pickup and Odelia let the cats out. She gave Max a wink and watched the foursome traipse off. She had walked up to the front door before Chase stopped her with a wolf whistle. She turned to look and frowned at the circular sign he was making with his fingers. Obediently, she spun around. Chase laughed. "Not exactly what I meant, Poole. The front door is just that: a front. The actual entrance is around back."

Her cheeks reddened. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I thought I did.”

She jogged after him. “I figured you wanted to admire… the view.”