Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Murder

Once again, her words had a powerful effect on the policeman. His face visibly relaxed, and a small smile indicated her words met his approval. “The mayor of Hampton Cove,” he said, nodding. “Not the mayor of New York.”

“Oh, no,” Aissa laughed. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen the mayor of New York here, or in Hampton Cove. He’s more an Amagansett kind of guy. I hear he’s got quite a place out there, with a private helipad for his chopper.”

“Yes, he does,” Chase confirmed, his lips once again a grim line.

Odelia wondered what the story with him and the mayor was, and made a quick mental note to further look into the matter.

“So if I talk to Francine Turner, she’ll be able to confirm that you were here all evening on September the sixteenth?” Chase asked now.

“I’m sure she would,” said Aissa. “She’s one of our best customers and I like to be here when something big like that goes down.” She smiled. “Especially after what happened with Frey we were afraid we might lose the restaurant, so we made sure we worked like beavers, both Marissa and I.”

“Marissa was also here?”

“Yes, we were both here, I’m sure of it,” she said. “It was a big thing, and we brought the birthday cake in together. It was a great night. I remember telling Francine how grateful we were for her support and the mayor’s and the entire Hampton Cove community.” She gave Chase a wink. “This is a great little town, Detective Kingsley. One that the Paulo Freys of this world can’t destroy, no matter how hard they try. It’s a lesson I learned last year.”

He nodded curtly, and Odelia thought Aissa’s words had touched a chord, for he gave her one of his rare smiles. “Thank you, Miss Spring.”

“It’s Aissa. And I hope to welcome you in our restaurant one of these nights, Detective.”

“Chase, please, and I most certainly will. I can’t wait to try your cuisine.”

He abruptly turned and strode out, clearly wanting to avoid Odelia, but she quickly tripped after him, giving Aissa a wave. “So you managed to pin down time of death, huh, Detective?”

But Chase simply kept on walking, a set look on his face.

“Did you get a cause of death, too? Detective Kingsley?”

Chase sped up, taking long strides that forced her to break into an awkward gait. “You can’t keep ignoring me! As a reporter I have rights!”

He abruptly stopped and she almost bumped into him.

“I acknowledge the fact that you have rights, Miss Poole,” he ground out slowly, “but I, for one, don’t feel obliged to honor those rights. I’m sure that whatever you need to know you can find out from your uncle, but trust me when I tell you that I intend to conduct this investigation by the book, and that doesn’t include catering to the wishes of nosy reporters such as yourself.”

“Well, then that’s your loss, Detective!” she found herself crying out, his words having pushed one button too many. “I’ll have you know that I could have been a real boon to this investigation. I know this town, and everyone in it! I know this place inside out, while you’re the new guy, and don’t know a single person around here.” She now found she was tapping his chest with her finger, and marveled how hard it was. The guy was built like Iron Man!

“You may know everyone in town, Miss Poole,” he growled, “but I represent the law, and I intend to honor my obligation to uphold it, and not allow this investigation to turn into a freak show or a town hall meeting. Good day to you.” And with these words, he left her fuming on the sidewalk.

The gall of the man! Max was right. Kingsley was the spitting image of his cat: overbearing, obnoxious, and despotic. Who did he think he was, barging into town and deciding she had no business investigating a murder? She’d show him. She’d solve this murder long before he’d ferreted out his first clue. She’d show him he wasn’t the hotshot detective he thought he was.

Still fuming, she resolutely set foot for the police station. Good thing her uncle wasn’t as unwilling to share information as Kingsley was. She’d find out what the medical examiner had unearthed, and she’d take it from there.

Chapter 10

Dooley and I were just on our way to the newspaper to tell Odelia the latest on Chase Kingsley, when I saw a familiar figure strutting along Main Street. Scratch that. When I saw two familiar figures strutting along Main Street as if they owned not only the street but the entire town. They were none other than Brutus and… Harriet!

“Look!” I hissed, my tail quivering in horror. “Look who’s there!”

Dooley glanced over, and did a double take that practically landed him from the sidewalk into the gutter. “Oh. My. God! You were right! Harriet is falling for the creep! No wonder she was defending him! She likes that cat!”

“What’s not to like?” I asked bitterly. “He’s an alpha male, remember?”

But Dooley, who’d been on the fence about Brutus before, now seemed to have had a change of heart. Maybe the fact that he’d always been sweet on Harriet had something to do with it. “How dare he?!” he cried. “How dare he barge in here and steal our queens! I’ll show that damn tom!”

“Well, technically Harriet’s not a queen,” I started to say, but Dooley was already stalking in the direction of the love birds—or rather love cats.

Dutifully, I followed in his pawsteps. I couldn’t very well let him handle Brutus all by himself. As his friend and sometimes housemate I needed to have his back, like I was sure he’d have my back if something ever happened to me. It’s not a strict rule with us cats, mind you. Usually we only have our own backs, and don’t care too much about other cats. We’re not dumb herd animals like dogs. We’re solitary hunters, and used to taking care of number one. But Dooley was my buddy, and I needed to protect him from this brute.

“Dooley! Wait!” I yelled therefore, and shot across the street after him, after looking left and right. I may be a good Samaritan, but I’m not suicidal.

When I arrived on the other side of the road, Dooley was already engaging Brutus in open warfare, while Harriet seemed taken aback by this sudden vehemence her usually placid housemate suddenly displayed.

“How dare you?!” he was yelling at Brutus, even going so far as to tap him smartly on the chest. “How dare you breeze into town and take… our stuff,” he lamely added with a quick glance at Harriet. “You can’t do that!”

But Brutus wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by this sudden sign of a local uprising. Mel Gibson, had he been present at the scene, war paint and all, would have taken charge, and destroyed this nasty interloper once and for all. But Dooley was no Mel Gibson, and Brutus had no trouble putting him in his place. “Look, you moron,” he said, disdainfully swatting away Dooley’s paw. “Things are going to change around here, so you better get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that!” Dooley cried bravely.

“My human is in charge now, with your human playing second fiddle. Chase Kingsley is running this town now, and so am I, and if you want to survive under my regime, you better do as I say or else.” He then turned to Harriet and added, “Come on, toots. Don’t listen to this riffraff.”

“Who are you calling riffraff?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you cut this loser loose, Harriet? Tell him where he can put his new regime.”

“Yeah, tell him, Harriet,” Dooley said. “Tell him we’re your best friends and that we’re in charge of this place, not him.”

Brutus turned to Harriet. “Remember what I promised you, sweetie pie. Fresh raw meat. An all-you-can-eat buffet of fresh raw meat. Just think what it’ll do to your coat. It’ll be even prettier and shinier than it is now already.”