Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Murder

“The operative word is mean,” said Aissa, cocking an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“He had a real mean streak. It’s not something I was aware of at the time, and you certainly wouldn’t have known from his books, but Paulo Frey was a homophobe. That guy simply hated gays with a vengeance. When he discovered me and Marissa were an item, he blew a gasket. Made a scene right here in the middle of the restaurant, the place full of diners. Said we were a disgrace to humankind, and that he’d never set foot in here again, and invited everyone else to follow his example and walk out as well.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It was horrible. For a moment we both feared that everyone would do as he said, but luckily nobody seemed to care that their food was being prepared by two women who happened to be in love. So when he saw that his little temper tantrum was met with eye rolls and shrugs, he stomped out, vowing to destroy us and all of our kind before he was through.”

“A real hater, huh? Who would have thought?”

“It blew us away. How such a vile man could write such great books…”

“So what happened then?”

She waved her hand. “He started spreading rumors around town that our food was poisoned, and that we were the worst cooks in the world. He even called the Food Safety and Inspection people on us. Twice. Luckily we run a clean ship around here, and they didn’t shut us down.”

“I wonder why I never heard about this?”

“Probably because none of the locals bought his crap. He was trying to rile up the tourist crowd, and doing a damn good job, for our business effectively started to slow down. Which is when we talked to your uncle.”

“And he put a stop to the nonsense.”

“That wonderful man drove straight up to the Writer’s Lodge and told Frey that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again he’d personally drive him out of town.”

“Tarred and feathered?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” laughed Aissa. “I don’t know what else he said, but it did the trick. The rumors stopped, and the customers returned.”

“Except Paulo Frey.”

“He wouldn’t have been welcome here anyway. Not after what he put us through. That man is a vile monster. Or at least he was,” she said, sobered when she remembered the reason for this interview.

“I can understand how you felt that way,” said Odelia, jotting down notes.

“And I wasn’t the only one either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard later that he did the same thing to Gabby Cleret.”

“The actress?”

Aissa nodded. “Drove her to a nervous breakdown.”

Before Odelia could get into this, suddenly a shadow loomed over them.

“Aissa Spring?” the new arrival asked. And when she looked up, Odelia couldn’t help but notice that the newcomer was giving her a nasty look.

“That’s me,” said Aissa. “And you are?”

“Detective Chase Kingsley,” Chase said, producing a shiny new badge. “Hampton Cove Police. Can I have a word? When you’re quite finished with Miss Poole, that is.” At this, he gave Odelia another of his trademark scowls.

Aissa grinned. “My sordid past is finally catching up with me, huh?”

Odelia laughed. “Don’t worry, hon. Your sordid past is safe with me.” She didn’t know why she said that, but she suddenly felt like protecting Aissa against this overbearing policeman. As he apparently had a history of violence against female suspects, she felt she needed to stay put and make sure nothing happened. So she returned Chase’s scowl and added some heat. “It’s not because Aissa had a dispute with Frey that she’s automatically guilty, Detective.”

“Oh, I see you’ve decided to become a homicide detective now,” he said, gritting his teeth. He was still towering over them, blocking out the sun.

She got up and walked up to the man. “I’m simply doing my job as a reporter,” she said, going toe-to-toe with him. But since he had at least a foot on her, she had to crane her neck, which wasn’t helping. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a very powerful cologne that assaulted her senses. Only now did she become aware of his overpowering masculinity.

Why hadn’t she noticed this in Uncle Alec’s office? Probably because she hadn’t been quite this close to him. He was staring down at her, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, his granite face implacable, his battering ram of a chin even more impressive up close and personal. Detective Kingsley was a bad, bad man, and she owed it to Hampton Cove to expose him, but he was also a very attractive man, and she now experienced the full effect of his presence.

“This is a murder investigation, Miss Poole,” he growled. “And you’d be well advised not to insert yourself into the investigation. You might get hurt.”

“Is that a threat, Detective Kingsley?”

“A fair warning, Miss Poole. Murder investigations tend to get sticky.”

“I’m a reporter, Detective. It’s my job to report on any crime that takes place in my town. I’m sure my uncle explained all this to you.”

“He did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with him,” he grunted.

“Well, you’d better get used to it.” She would have added he wasn’t going to be in town long enough to learn all the ins and outs of the way they did things around here, but bit her tongue. The story of Detective Kingsley’s wrongdoings was one she’d crack once Frey’s murderer had been caught.

While this battle of wills took place, Aissa had sat motionless. Now she noisily cleared her throat. “Did you have a question for me, Detective?”

Chase finally dragged his eyes away from Odelia’s and nodded. “I did. Where were you on the night of September sixteen last year, Miss Spring?”

This surprised Odelia. “Have you determined the time of death?”

Chase’s jaw worked as he studiously chose to ignore her. “I realize it’s been a long time, but try to throw your mind back. It’s important. I’m sure Miss Poole told you all about the murder of Mr. Frey by now, and the fact that we need to interview anyone who’s ever been at odds with the victim.”

“Yes, she did,” said Aissa, with a quick look at Odelia.

From her part, Odelia was standing her ground, her arms folded across her chest. Even though it was clear Chase wanted her to leave, she refused to.

“You probably heard about our little feud?” asked Aissa sheepishly.

“I did,” confirmed Chase. “Chief Alec told me how you pressed charges against Paulo Frey after he threatened to close down your restaurant and made a real stink about the fact that you and Miss Marissa are… an item.”

“I was just telling Odelia what a terrible ordeal the whole thing was, and how we were worried that Frey might succeed in closing us down. Luckily Chief Alec stepped into the breach and smoothed things over. After that, Frey gave No Spring Chicks a wide berth every time he came into town.”

“How did you determine the time of death?” Odelia insisted. She’d already scribbled down the date in her little notebook: September sixteen.

But Chase merely stared at Aissa, who realized she still hadn’t answered the cop’s question. “Oh, right,” she said, quickly getting up and hurrying over to the counter. She picked up a large ledger and started flipping through it until she reached the chosen date. “The sixteenth…” she muttered, letting her finger slide down the items on the page. “Oh. Of course. We hosted the mayor’s wife’s birthday bash that night, so we were pretty busy.”

Odelia saw that her words had quite an impact on Chase. It was as if he stood frozen. Finally, he asked huskily, “The mayor’s wife? You mean…”

“Francine. Mayor Turner’s wife? She’s a vegan, so she’s in here all the time.”