His question had been very short and to the point: ‘Dear Gabi, I’m a fifty-four-year-old widower and have been living alone since my wife died fifteen years ago. Lately I’ve been wondering if I should get out there again. Look for love. There’s someone I like but we work together in a professional capacity, so it’s tricky. What should I do? Lonely Heart.’
The response, now that it had finally been posted, was this: ‘Dear Lonely Heart, if you ask me it’s not your love life that needs a shot in the butt but your professional life. Why don’t you show some ambition? There’s other jobs out there that would suit your talents a lot better than your current one. Mayor, for instance. Something to think about!’
Alec leaned back and patted his thinning mane. It almost seemed to him that Gabi, whoever she was, had guessed who he was and was telling him to drop being chief of police and set his sights on becoming mayor instead. Huh. So weird.
There was a knock at the door and he yelled, “Yeah!”
Chase Kingsley walked in. A handsome cop with one of those square faces and a cleft in his chin that made women’s hearts beat faster, Chase was the precinct’s detective, and smiled when he saw Alec behind his desk, hands on his head and looking annoyed.
“You should really try a hair transplant, Chief. You’ll feel like a new man.”
“Look at this,” Alec grumbled, and turned the screen so Chase could read along.
Chase took a seat at the edge of the desk and scanned the screen, then grinned. “Dating, huh? And who’s the lucky lady?”
Alec’s ruddy face flushed even more. “No lucky lady. Just a general question.”
“Oh, come on, Chief. Are you going to tell me you didn’t have a particular woman…” He leaned in and read from the screen. “… ‘in a professional capacity’ in mind?”
Alec shrugged and said stubbornly, “No particular woman.”
“How about Tracy Sting?”
Tracy was a woman he’d met working a case, but they had lost touch. “Tracy flies all over the world for her job. Very hard to make things work when one of the partners is never in one place for more than a couple of days,” he grumbled.
Suddenly, his phone chimed and he cleared his throat, then picked up. “Yes, Madam Mayor,” he said.
“Chief, help me out here,” Charlene Butterwick’s melodious voice sounded over the airwaves. “There’s a couple of punks peeing in my gardenias. Do you think you could dissuade them from using my lovely flower beds as a urinal?”
He smiled. “Of course, Madam Mayor,” he said.
“What do I have to do to convince you that it’s Charlene, and not Madam Mayor?”
“As soon as you start calling me Alec, I’ll start calling you Charlene, Madam Mayor,” he said, his smile widening. Then he saw Chase’s grin and his smile vanished.
“Just get these kids out of my flowers, will you? I’d hate for visitors to see them. They’ll think we’re running a slum instead of the fine upstanding town that we are.”
“Will do, Madam Mayor,” he growled.
“Thanks, Chief.”
He replaced the receiver and glowered at his second-in-command. “What are you grinning at?”
“I think I know what lady you were referring to in your letter, Chief.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yes, Chief,” said Chase, and made to leave his office.
His phone chimed again and he picked it up, quick as a flash. “I’m on it, Madam Mayor,” he said, then heard Odelia’s voice and relaxed. “Hey, honey. What can I do for you?”
“There’s been a murder, Uncle Alec. At Allison Gray’s place. It’s Kirk Weaver.”
“The cat whisperer?”
“One and the same. So you better get over here. Oh, and it looks like the niece did it? Mia Gray? But I know for a fact that she didn’t. Only, the witness in her defense is a cat, so that’s not going to make a big impression on the judge. So you better think of something.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” he promised her, then disconnected.
Chase, who’d been waiting by the door, asked, “What’s going on?”
“That was Odelia,” said the Chief, getting up from behind his desk. “There’s been a murder, and the most likely suspect has an alibi. Only problem is: her alibi is her cat.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
He took his jacket from the coat rack and then they were off, but not before he alerted Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, to join them ASAP. And as they walked out of the precinct, he cast a quick glance in the direction of town hall, which was located across town square. Three young punks were indeed watering Mayor Butterwick’s flower beds with their own bodily fluids. His face set, he started marching over. He recognized two of them as having desecrated his own garage not all that long ago.
But a hand descended on his shoulder, and Chase said, “Better let me handle this one, Chief.”
“But…”
“I’ve got this, buddy,” Chase insisted, and stalked over to the three punks. Alec watched on as Chase told them in no uncertain terms what was what. Reluctantly the three kids jumped on their bikes and rode off.
And as Chase joined him again, the Chief asked, “What did you tell them?”
“That if they didn’t cut it out I was going to send the CCTV footage of their teensy tiny little weenies to their mothers. They didn’t like that.”
Alec smiled. “I would probably have grabbed them by the collar and smacked their bottoms.”
“You can’t do that in this day and age, Chief,” said Chase as they walked over to the Chief’s squad car. “Smacking bottoms is not done. Not politically correct.”
“And sending video of their pee-pees is?”
Chase grinned widely. “Who says I was going to send anything?”
The Chief shook his head. He had to admit that Chase’s solution had probably been more effective than his own. From a window on the second floor of town hall he could see Charlene Butterwick gazing out at them. And when he raised his hand in greeting, she waved back. And as an involuntarily smile crept up his face, he sensed that Chase was looking at him and grinning again like a damn ape.
“She’s my boss!” he said as he buckled up. “I have to say hi.”
“Oh, I know.”
“I’m supposed to be nice to her.”
“Of course you are.”
“Stop grinning, will you?” he grunted, and then started up the car.
Chapter 10
The moment Odelia’s uncle arrived with Chase things became even livelier than they had been. Before long, the coroner also arrived and people in white coveralls were all over the place, examining the crime scene and the body.
Meanwhile Chase, Alec, Gran, Odelia and Scarlett had taken seats in the living room with Allison and Mia, the latter still looking groggy from whatever pills she’d taken.
“So tell us, Miss Gray,” said Uncle Alec, taking charge of the investigation. “Who could possibly have held such a grudge against Mr. Weaver to want the man killed?”
“Oh, I can think of several people,” said Allison, looking a little startled by all the attention she was suddenly subjected to. “There’s the man’s wife, of course. Or I should probably say ex-wife, even though they aren’t officially divorced yet.”
“I hardly think Kirk’s wife would want him dead, Auntie Allison,” said Mia, who was nursing a cup of strong coffee. The smell drifted toward Odelia and she relished in its delicious aroma.
Allison must have caught a whiff, too, for she suddenly said, “Oh, dear goodness me. I’m a terrible hostess. What can I get you, Miss Poole? And you, Chief Alec?”
When the orders were all taken care of, and Allison had relegated them to a member of her household staff, the interview continued.
“So tell me about this ex-wife,” said Chase. “Does she live around here?”