“Just a few more details we’d like to iron out,” Chase said soothingly. “You told my colleagues that you heard a fight upstairs yesterday?”
“Yeah, a big fight. Shouting and stomping and stuff being dragged around. I thought they were going to keep at it all day, but then it suddenly stopped and I heard footsteps on the stairs and then it all became quiet.”
“Did you happen to see who it was that left?”
“No, I didn’t,” said the woman, folding her arms across her chest and giving us a sour look.
“What time would you say?”
“Two? Three? Something like that. I didn’t look at the clock.”
“And I’ll bet she did,” said Dooley.
“Yeah, I think so, too,” I said. She looked like the type of person who likes to keep a close eye on everything that goes on in her neighborhood. Maybe even jot down a few notes, like Chase.
“Any idea what they were arguing about?” asked Odelia.
Mrs. Garlic’s gaze dropped down to Odelia’s impressive belly and I could tell what she was thinking: why aren’t you on a couch with your feet up, missy? But instead, she said, “No, I’m afraid I couldn’t overhear. Just a lot of screaming and yelling. Though I have a pretty good idea.”
“Yes?” said Chase, his pencil immobile over his notebook for a moment.
“There’s been plenty of men in and out of the place these last couple of months. Sometimes as much as two or three a day. One of them must have gotten wind of the others and decided to do something about it.”
“You’re saying that Dotty had more than one boyfriend?” asked Odelia.
“I wouldn’t exactly call them boyfriends,” said the woman, giving us a keen look. “In fact I never saw the same person twice. Always different men, mostly at night. Late at night,” she added with a meaningful slant to her voice.
“So you’re saying… what are you saying, exactly?” asked Chase.
“I’m saying that it wouldn’t surprise me if Dotty Berg was a prostitute.”
Chapter 7
“Do you think we should share Sybil’s suspicions with Dotty’s dad?” asked Chase as we all got back into the elevator.
“Absolutely not,” said Odelia, quite sensibly, I thought. “Right now that’s all this is: a neighbor’s suspicions.”
“It would explain a lot,” said Chase. “The men coming and going, the fight Mrs. Garlic overheard yesterday, the… peculiar way the apartment is decorated.”
“It does look a little like a house of pleasure,” Odelia admitted.
“What’s a house of pleasure, Max?” asked Dooley. “And what is a prostitute?”
“Um… well…”
Luckily just then the elevator bumped to a stop and we all got out. Saved by the bell!
And we’d just walked out of the building when Chase’s phone sang out a cheerful tune. He picked up with a grunted, “Dolores?” listened for a while, frowned, then said just as curtly, “We’ll be there in ten,” and disconnected. When Odelia stared at him questioningly, he added, “There’s been another murder. Looks like the exact same MO.”
“Another one?” asked Odelia.
Chase gave her a worried look.“Why don’t I take you home so you can rest?”
“No way,” she said, as she started legging it in the direction of the car. “Let’s go!”
“This woman,” Chase murmured as he hurried to follow so he could open the door for her.
“Chase doesn’t seem happy to have Odelia along with us,” said Dooley.
“That’s because he’s worried she’ll overexert herself,” I said. “But I guess Odelia knows what her limits are better than anyone. If she’s feeling tired she’ll simply tell us.”
At least I hoped she would. Our human can be pretty stubborn, and she’s a born sleuth, eager to find out what’s going on even more than the rest of us.
Once we were in the car, Odelia turned back to us—or at least turned as best she could, given the circumstances. “When I picked you guys up just now, what was that thing on the couch with you? It looked like a bat or something. Did it fly into the house?”
“It’s not a bat,” I said. “It’s a dog, and it’s now Chase’s dog.”
Odelia stared at me for a few moments, speechless, then repeated,“Chase’s dog.”
“Yes, Gran has decided to adopt Windex from the shelter,” said Dooley, “and give her to Chase, because she doesn’t have time to take care of her. It’s very kind of her, don’t you think?”
Odelia’s face took on a set look, and it was obvious that whatever she thought of Gran’s gift, the word ‘kind’ wasn’t part of it. “Windex?” she finally managed. “What kind of a name is Windex?”
“It’s the name her previous owner gave her,” I said. “A woman named Eileen Dobson.”
“Yeah, she’s an old lady who had to go to a place where they hate pets,” Dooley explained, “so she had to get rid of Windex, and now she’s very sad, and she thought we all looked scary, especially Max and Brutus, but also Harriet. She thought I was funny, though, so I guess that’s a good thing.”
“Windex,” Odelia repeated as she turned back to face the front. “Great.”
“What are you muttering about?” asked Chase.
“Gran has decided to adopt a dog.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of her.”
“And give it to you.”
Chase frowned.“What do you mean?”
“Congratulations, Chase. You are now the proud owner of a dog named Windex. A dog, I might add, who looks like a wingless bat and who’s scared of our cats.”
“Except me!” Dooley cried from the backseat.
“Except Dooley,” Odelia dutifully added.
“Windex,” Chase repeated, as if trying to get used to the idea.
“She’s going back,” said Odelia. “Tonight when we arrive home I’m taking Windex straight back to the shelter.”
“Oh, no, Odelia!” said Dooley. “She’ll be so sad!”
“I don’t care! I’m having a baby, I already have four cats—I CAN’T HAVE A DOG!”
“Breathe, babe,” said Chase. “Deep breaths, in and out. That’s it.”
“Odelia sounds a little stressed,” Dooley whispered.
“And you wonder why?”
We’d arrived at a nice house in the suburbs, which looked a million miles away from where Dotty Ludkin lived. It was a freestanding house with a picture-postcard front yard and relatively new. Chase parked across the street and we all got out. I could see that Abe had already arrived, and the police activity was picking up in volume and intensity.
When we walked in, a police officer informed us that the person that was found dead was a Calista Burden, aged thirty-seven, who lived at this address with her husband Dave Burden, though of Mr. Burden there was no trace. A UPS man had discovered the body: he’d rung the bell and when no one opened the door had glanced through the window and had seen the owner of the house sprawled out on the couch so he called the police.
Mrs. Burden was indeed in the position indicated, and as we walked in I had a distinct sense of d?j?-vu: the position of the body and the way she had been murdered looked much the same as the earlier scene we’d witnessed at Dotty Ludkin’s apartment.
Abe looked up when we entered and gave us an unhappy frown.“Two dead bodies in one day. A bit much, wouldn’t you say? Even for Hampton Cove.”
“I didn’t do it, Abe, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” said Chase.
“No, you probably didn’t,” the coroner admitted reluctantly. “Well, looks like an exact copy of the other scene. Same nylon stocking—in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t the one missing from the other place—same way the arms were pinned down, presumably by sitting on them with his knees, which would explain the bruising and the lack of defensive wounds. They even look the same,” he said, getting up. “Though this victim is perhaps a decade older than the other one.”