“But maybe she figures we won’t. Maybe she snuck out at some point, made her way across town, snuck into Allison Gray’s house and killed Kirk and then got back.”
“It’s possible,” Vesta allowed, “but unlikely. The first thing you develop in this business is intuition. You talk to a potential suspect and you get a feel for them.”
“A feel for them,” Scarlett repeated, nodding seriously.
“And my gut tells me she didn’t do it.”
“My gut tells me the same thing. The woman hated her husband, but that doesn’t make her a killer.”
They both sat staring out the window at the hotel across the street for a moment, then heaved a simultaneous sigh.
“This stuff isn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” Scarlett intimated. “I always thought sleuthing was a cinch. You talk to a couple of people, and before you know it, bam! You’ve got your guy. But we’ve talked to several people already and so far I don’t have a clue what happened. You?”
“No, I don’t,” Vesta admitted. “But we still have a couple of suspects left, and so we just need to keep going, Scarlett. Talk to them one by one until we hit the jackpot.”
“Isn’t this kind of work… dangerous?” asked Scarlett now.
“Oh, yeah. Course it is. These people will stop at nothing, and if you get too close they might lash out and strike.”
Scarlett shivered visibly. “I don’t know how you do it, Vesta. Case after case after case. You must have nerves of steel.”
“Well, you get used to it to some extent,” said Vesta, expanding a little under this onslaught of compliments and admiration.
“I want to be you when I grow up,” said Scarlett, eyeing her partner-in-sleuthing with a sparkle in her eye.
“Oh, please.”
“No, really. The way you handled yourself just now, and yesterday with Allison and Mia. You were born to do this.”
“Baby steps, Scarlett,” said Vesta, feeling like a seasoned pro teaching her junior partner the tricks of the trade.
“Do you think I’ll get there eventually?”
“If you keep following my lead, I don’t see why not.”
“Thank you for this opportunity,” said Scarlett humbly.
“You’re welcome, honey.”
And as Scarlett basked in the glow of the warmth of the coffee shop, and Vesta basked in the glow of Scarlett’s praise, neither of them noticed how across the street Odelia and Chase had arrived at the hotel, and now walked in.
Odelia hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t just the investigation, but also the notion that her grandmother was now saddled with her archnemesis and the worry that the two ladies would come to blows at some point. It had happened before, and broken nails and pulled hair and damaged egos had been the upshot.
“I hope he’s in,” she said as she and Chase walked up to the reception desk.
“If he isn’t we’ll wait for him,” said Chase as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “So have you asked Dan to reveal the identity of the mysterious Gabi yet?”
“Yeah, I have, but he doesn’t want to tell me. He keeps claiming it’s someone I don’t know—some unknown from the Midwest, but I think it has to be someone local.”
“Could it be Dan himself? He knows everything there is to know about Hampton Cove.”
“Could be,” Odelia admitted. “Though I doubt it. Dan has enough on his plate without having to write a daily advice column on top of everything else.”
“There must be a way to find out,” said Chase as he directed a cheeky look at her.
She laughed. “You’re not suggesting I dig through Dan’s computer, are you?”
“Just an idea,” he said lightly. “It would solve the mystery once and for all.”
She’d actually considered this. She was probably even nosy enough to go ahead and do just that, but she had too much respect for her editor to go through with the plan. Besides, if Dan felt he needed to keep the identity of his mysterious advice columnist a secret, he probably had his reasons, and she simply had to accept them.
The receptionist came walking up from the small room behind the desk and smiled politely. “Yes?”
“We’re looking for Burt Scofield,” said Chase, holding up his badge.
The receptionist’s eyes went a little wider, and he nodded. “Room 216. Shall I call him and ask to meet you in the lobby?”
“No, I think we’ll surprise him,” said Chase with a grin.
They took the elevator and Odelia glanced up at her boyfriend’s profile. He looked as handsome as ever, and she wondered why he would hold off on the wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He’d given ample proof that he cared deeply for her over the past couple of months. Maybe he was one of those men with an aversion to the institution of marriage? She knew people like that existed. They’d seen their parents’ marriages fall apart and had stopped believing in the conjugal bond.
“We have to reschedule dinner again,” she said now. “I’m up to my ears in work.”
Chase smiled. “Why is it that every time we make dinner plans something comes up?”
“Like we said last night, maybe we simply need to stop making plans and just decide on the spur of the moment. Maybe then it’ll finally happen.”
“Without making reservations?”
“Sure. There’s plenty of places where you can just walk in.”
“Okay, let’s do that,” he said. “How about tomorrow?” He slapped his brow lightly. “And here I’m planning again.”
The elevator had arrived on the second floor and they got out, then walked over to room 216. Chase knocked and then stood back. The door opened and a man appeared. He was unshaven, unkempt and was dressed in his pajamas.
“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
“Burt Scofield?” asked Chase.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Detective Kingsley with the Hampton Cove Police Department,” said Chase, holding up his badge once again. “And this is Odelia Poole, civilian consultant. We’re investigating the murder of your business partner Kirk Weaver. May we have a word?”
The man stared at Chase’s badge for a moment, then at Odelia, and finally nodded and stepped aside. “Sure. Come on in.”
They stepped into the room and Odelia wasn’t surprised to find the room in as messy a state as its occupant: clothes were strewn all around, room service trays littered the coffee table, couch and chairs, and wet towels had been dropped to the floor, some of them doused in weirdly colored substances she didn’t want to know the origin of.
“Take a seat,” he said, as he shoved aside some of the trays and made room for them on the couch. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve been so busy working, and now with Kirk dying on me…”
He dragged a hand through his unruly mop of dark hair, then rubbed his face. “How did he die? The reports weren’t very specific.”
“Stabbed,” said Chase curtly.
“Stabbed where, exactly? I’m just…” he added when Chase gave him a curious look. “I just can’t believe what happened. He was my business partner for ten years, and my friend for twenty. We went to school together. High school, then college. I’ve known Kirk all my life and I just can’t believe he’s gone all of a sudden. It’s like a nightmare.”
“He was stabbed in the chest,” said Odelia. “He died instantly, or at least that’s what the coroner said.”
“He didn’t suffer?” asked Burt anxiously.
“No, it doesn’t look like he suffered. It all happened very quickly. So quickly he didn’t even know what was going on.”
“Thank God for that,” murmured Burt as he dragged up a chair and took a seat. “So what do you want to know, detectives?”
“You were Kirk’s business partner in what sense?” asked Chase. “Were you involved with the TV show?”
“Yeah, the TV show and the company,” said Burt. “Um, our company is called K-Bear, K for Kirk and B for Burt, and the bear we just added because it sounded cute. We developed the show but also sell products, run courses, consultations, Kirk wrote books, made instructional videos, we have a line of pet products, pet food and toys and such.”