“I know,” he said. “It’s just that I’m hungry all the time.”
“Drink more water,” Dooley advised. “Whenever I’m hungry and I don’t feel like eating, I just drink a lot of water—really fill up my tummy. And then I’m not hungry anymore.”
“That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard,” Max grumbled. “Drink more water. I’m hungry, Dooley, not thirsty.”
“But if your stomach is full, you won’t be hungry. And water doesn’t have any calories, or does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Odelia assured him. “Listen to Dooley, Max. Whenever you get hungry, just drink more. Maybe you’ll be able to handle your cravings that way.”
Max gave her a dubious look. It was obvious he wasn’t buying it.
They arrived at the police station and she entered, holding the door for the cats. Usually the feline duo snuck around the back and lounged on Chief Alec’s windowsill. Today she wanted them to be present in the room, though. She hoped they could help find out what was going on.
“Hey, I don’t think we were ever in here,” said Dooley, looking around excitedly.
“Yeah, almost like being invited to visit the Queen of England,” said Max.
They passed Dolores and set foot for her uncle’s office. She entered without knocking, as usual, and took a seat across the desk from the Chief, who sat discussing the case with Chase.
“I see you brought your feline little friends,” said Uncle Alec amiably as he glanced down at Max and Dooley. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I found them wandering down the street and figured I’d better take them along, in case they got lost again,” she said.
Uncle Alec nodded. He’d gotten the message. Chase, however, seemed surprised. “You’re awfully protective of those cats, aren’t you? Can’t they find their own way home? I always thought cats had some kind of homing instinct?”
“They do,” said Odelia, “but Max has been having some medical issues. He needs to be watched closely.”
“Medical issues, huh?” asked Max with an offended look at Odelia. “So now all of a sudden I’m an invalid? Thanks for nothing.”
She smiled down at the spreading ginger cat. “You’re welcome, Max.”
“Mh? What was that?” asked Chase.
“Oh, I was just talking to myself.”
“She does that a lot,” Uncle Alec explained. “Even as a child she was always talking to herself. Drove us crazy.”
“Did she now?” asked Chase, darting a curious look down at Max and Dooley.
“So what did your dad have to say?” asked Uncle Alec, getting down to business.
“He said that whoever murdered Donna knew what they were doing. They used enough bees to make sure the attack would be deadly, even if Donna proved not to be allergic to bee stings.”
“So we’re dealing with a professional,” Chase grunted. “First time I’ve ever heard of bees being used as a murder weapon.”
“People underestimate how many bees it takes to kill a person,” said Odelia. “Stings from bees might be very painful, but they are rarely deadly.”
“So do you think we should look at beekeepers?” asked Chase.
“I doubt it,” said Uncle Alec. “No beekeeper would sacrifice his precious bees for this kind of thing. It’s hard enough to keep them alive, with bees dying out at a troubling rate and beekeepers losing large percentages of their hives. It’s a huge investment in both monetary terms and time-wise.”
“So we’re looking for someone who wanted Donna dead and knew a thing or two about bees.”
“Stands to reason that the person who stole the hives would have suffered a few bee stings in the process,” Uncle Alec said thoughtfully. “So that’s one other thing to look into.”
“What about the boyfriend?” asked Odelia. “Any sign of this Dexter Valdès yet?”
“So far nothing,” said Uncle Alec. “We did find out he still lives in town, but he wasn’t home when we sent some officers by to pick him up. But don’t worry. We’ll find him soon enough. I put out an APB for his arrest.”
Just then, there was a loud altercation in the hallway, and when Odelia got up to take a closer look, she saw that two officers were bringing in a handsome-looking man who was the spitting image of Ricky Martin, only two decades younger. He was handcuffed and shouting at the officers.
“Dexter Valdès,” said one of the officers, panting slightly from the exertion of subduing the man. “We picked him up at Pier’s Pont. Bar fight.”
“I hate Donna!” the man suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs. “I hate Donna and I’m glad she’s dead!”
Chapter 18
It was the first time we got to sit in on a police interrogation and I was adamant to make the most of it. I was hungry, though, so first I needed a snack. So when no one was watching, I snuck into Chief Alec’s office and quickly found what I was looking for. While I was in there before I’d noticed the chief kept a half-eaten meatball sub in his bottom drawer. The scent had been driving me crazy.
“Max! What are you doing?!” Dooley shouted from the door.
“I’m foraging! What does it look like I’m doing?!”
“But you can’t! You promised Odelia you would stick to your diet!”
“I lied, okay? I can’t stand it anymore, Dooley. I’m not like you. I can’t fill my stomach with water and pretend I’m not hungry! I’m starving!”
So I skewered the meatball from between the two buns with one nail and popped it into my mouth. Yummy. Then I went looking for a second meatball, which I hoped was in there somewhere.
“Max! Someone’s coming!” Dooley suddenly yelled. “Too late!”
“What are you guys doing in here?” asked Odelia, entering the office at a trot. She picked up a file from the desk and glanced down at me. She took one look at the meatball sub—now sans meatball—and her brows knitted into a frown. “Max! You’re cheating on your diet again!”
“No, I’m not,” I said.
She planted a hand on her hip. “I can see the sauce dripping from your lips, Max.”
Oops. I quickly swiped my tongue along my lips. “There. All gone,” I said, then burped.
She shook her head. “Oh, Max. What am I going to do with you?”
“I told him he shouldn’t!” Dooley said.
“Tattletale!” I hissed.
“Come on, you two,” said Odelia. “We don’t have time for this. We’re about to interrogate Dexter Valdès.”
She ushered us out of the office and closed the door. I could have told her this wasn’t necessary, as I’d already determined there wasn’t a second meatball inside that sub. Uncle Alec must have dug it out and eaten it himself.
We followed Odelia down the corridor and then into a small room, where a mirror offered a view of a second, even smaller room. We hopped up on the table at Chief Alec’s instigation and made ourselves comfortable while Odelia joined Chase in the next room and sat down across from Dexter Valdès. In my personal opinion the man only barely resembled Ricky Martin. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks stubbled and his hair unkempt. He might have been younger, but right now he looked like a much seedier and disheveled version of the fabled Latino heartthrob and hit sensation.
“So, Dexter,” said Chase, opening the proceedings, “you hate Donna Bruce so much you’re happy she’s dead, huh?”
The man seemed a lot less vocal about his hatred of Donna Bruce than before. He gave Chase a wary look. “Look, dude, when I said that I didn’t really mean it.”
“Oh, backpedaling are we?”
“You had a fight at Pier’s Pont just now,” said Odelia. “When the owner called the police you were trying to shove a billiard ball down the throat of another patron, telling him your wiener was the biggest wiener in wiener history. Is that correct?”
Dexter nodded. “That sounds about right. In my defense, he made fun of my wiener.”