“Oh, right. Well, Chase is handling that one, along with my niece.”
“And your mother and her friend. I know,” she said with a slight grin. No other town would ever allow civilians to insert themselves into a murder inquiry, but things were different in Hampton Cove, and since the Chief always got his guy, or gal, she didn’t mind.
“Yeah, well, my mother likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. If you want me to call her off, I’ll gladly do so.”
“No, no, that’s all right. So what’s the verdict?”
“Nothing yet. My niece just called me. They’ve interviewed every possible suspect and so far nothing. And Chase checked out the alibi of Kirk’s business partner and it checks out, so he’s off the hook, too.”
“And no other suspects so far?”
“None. But don’t you worry, Madam Mayor. We’re on the case, and we’ll nail the bastard.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Charlene, Chief?”
“And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Alec, Madam Mayor?”
“All right. Why don’t we cross over at the same time… Alec?”
“Good idea… Charlene.” They were both silent for a beat, then Alec cleared his throat. “Um, I have to get back to work, Charlene. But I’ll keep you posted on the investigation.”
“Thanks, Alec.”
They both rang off, and Charlene stared out at the form of the Chief seated behind his desk for a moment, then returned to her own desk. She wondered now if Gabi had already answered her question, and surfed to the Gazette website, and then to the advice section. And with a cry of joy she saw that her question was featured at the top of the page.
‘Dear Gabi. My first husband died a couple of years ago, and I’ve been a widow ever since, with no intention of letting another man into my heart. But lately I’ve felt a distinct flutter in my heart each time I encounter a certain colleague of mine. And I have the impression he likes me, too. Do you think I should encourage these feelings? Or will this only lead to awkwardness in the workplace? Signed, Timid Heart.’
With bated breath, the mayor read on, for Gabi’s much-anticipated response.
‘Dear Timid Heart. I think you should leave well enough alone. After all, you don’t want to thwart the man’s ambitions by making him your husband. Have you considered maybe he wants to be mayor himself and not your arm candy? So be smart and back off.’
Charlene jerked back, a little shocked. How had Gabi guessed that she was the mayor? She’d sent in the message anonymously, through the website contact form.
She glanced around, as if anticipating the entire town of Hampton Cove to look at her as if she was some kind of floozie, intent on snagging their chief of police as arm candy.
And as she shook her head, she vowed that this was the first and last time she ever asked Gabi a question. And as she bit her lip, she suddenly wondered if Alec read the advice column. She hoped he didn’t, and wouldn’t read her question, or Gabi’s response.
The moment Alec hung up the phone, he brought his computer back to life by tapping the space bar. Someone had asked Gabi a question, and her answer had been as strange and inappropriate as the one answering his own question.
He read the question again. Something about a woman wanting to date her colleague but being afraid of the consequences if it didn’t work out.
It was exactly the kind of question he’d asked himself, but in regard to Charlene. He liked her, he had to admit, but didn’t think she liked him back. And Gabi’s weird responses weren’t exactly helpful. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought it was his own mother writing Gabi’s letters. Which was impossible, of course. Dan Goory would never allow Vesta to take over the advice column, and in the process rub the entire population of Hampton Cove the wrong way.
Or would he?
Chapter 27
“We have to do something, Max,” said Dooley.
“I know,” I said.
“This can’t go on.”
“I know.”
“If this keeps up there will be droppings in Odelia’s bed next.”
“I know.”
“On her pillow.”
“I know!”
We both sat staring at the top step to the basement, where now a neat row of droppings had been placed, one next to the other, like little soldiers on parade. There were a dozen of them, all in all, perfectly shaped and lined up with Teutonic precision.
Behind us, Harriet and Brutus had entered, and now joined us.
“Is that what I think it is?” said Harriet.
Both Dooley and I nodded silently.
“We talked to Clarice this afternoon,” Brutus announced.
“Oh?” I said, still staring at the droppings. I simply couldn’t drag my eyes away from the horrid sight. And if I pricked up my ears, I could almost hear the mice snicker in the basement, imagining the looks on our faces at the sight of their latest offering.
“She told us either to eat the mice, or to convince Odelia to put out humane mousetraps and catch them, then put them somewhere.”
“She gobbled up a rat,” said Harriet. “Can you imagine? An entire rat! Brr.”
“It was a horrible sight,” Brutus confirmed. “One that will haunt me forever.”
“We talked to Jasmine,” I said. “Mia Gray’s Persian?”
“I think she’s actually Allison Gray’s Persian,” Dooley corrected me gently.
“Right. Well, she told us the same thing. To eat the mice and show them who’s boss. She claims it’s a cat’s duty to keep their human’s house free of mice and other vermin.”
“It’s sound advice,” Brutus agreed. “But I can’t do it.”
“Me neither,” said Harriet.
“Or me,” I said.
“And me,” Dooley muttered.
“We’re a couple of pussies, aren’t we, you guys?” said Harriet with a sad laugh.
“Yeah, real pussies,” I agreed.
“So there’s only one thing we can do now,” said Brutus, “and that’s to give Odelia the bad news, and tell her the only way to get rid of the creatures is to collect them in traps and put them out to pasture someplace far, far away, and hope they don’t come back.”
“They came back this time, didn’t they?” said Harriet. “So what makes you think they won’t come back again?”
We were all quiet for a moment, as we contemplated a life filled with mouse droppings from now, more and more each day, until we drowned in the stuff. It was not a pleasant thought.
“Oh, before I forget,” said Harriet suddenly, “Chloe has written new answers to your questions.”
“New answers?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it turns out she made a mistake. A silly mistake. She mixed up the questions and answers, or at least someone did, and so she decided to write a rectification.”
“A whatsification?” asked Dooley.
“Just read it, will you? I think you’ll like this answer better than the last one.”
I moved over to the couch, hopped on, and switched on the tablet. Harriet was right: Chloe’s column had two new items.
“Dear Brave Heart,” I read aloud. “My apologies for my last response. I never meant to call you obnoxious. A terrible mix-up. Please don’t worry about finding love again. Human nature and feline nature both are resilient, and the heart even more so. At any age and under any circumstances can a person, or a cat, find love, for the first time or the second time or the hundredth time. Don’t doubt it for a second. Yours, Chloe.”
I wiped away a tear as Dooley read his response.
“So beautiful,” I muttered. “I love it.”
“Dear Hopeful Heart,” Dooley read. “Static electricity indeed is a powerful force of nature, and shouldn’t be underestimated. Do I think that there’s still hope for your friends to have lots and lots of babies? Of course I do! And I think it’s so wonderful of you to ask the question. It shows that you’re a true friend with your heart in the right place—a friend that every cat would be proud to have. Always yours, Chloe.”