“Right,” said Chase dubiously. “Rex and Rollo. Not exactly guard dogs, are they?”
“They’re pretty good barkers. And they’ll bite anyone they don’t like, especially reporters.”
It was obvious the housekeeper wasn’t fond of reporters, which wasn’t surprising as they hadn’t been kind to Donna Bruce and her website, heaping more scorn on her and her project than praise over the years.
“Do you have any idea who might have done this to her?” asked Odelia.
Jackie Laboeuf shook her head, tears springing to her eyes again. “It might be those reporters,” she said, harping on the same theme.
“But why would a reporter murder Donna Bruce?” asked Chase.
“They hated her,” the housekeeper burst out. “For some reason they just hated her. And is it so hard to believe that one of them just went nuts and killed her? That lot is obviously capable of anything.”
“What about Mrs. Bruce’s ex-husband?” asked Odelia. “Tad Rip?”
Jackie shrugged. “It might have been him. Though why he would kill the mother of his children is beyond me. He might be a douche but he’s not a murdering douche.”
“So you knew Mr. Rip?”
“Of course I knew Mr. Rip. I’ve been working for Mrs. B for coming up on fifteen years now,” she said proudly. “I was here when they brought Sweetums and Honeychild home. Such a happy couple they were back then. You should have seen how proud Mr. Rip was. But that was before he and Mrs. B had a falling-out, of course.”
“Why did they divorce?” asked Odelia.
“Couldn’t keep his hands off his secretaries,” said Jackie with a snort. “She forgave him more than once, but after the fifth or the sixth—I lost count—she kicked him out. Even made sure he never got to see his kids again.” She shook her head. “That was one mean divorce. All fought out in the press, of course.”
“Of course,” said Odelia softly. “What’s going to happen to the kids now?”
“They’ll go and live with their father I suppose,” said Jackie. Then, as the uncertainty of her own fate came home to her, she dissolved into tears again.
When they left the unfortunate housekeeper, she’d just taken out a clean dish towel and was burying her face in it.
“So sad,” Odelia murmured as they stepped into the foyer.
“Yeah, the poor woman was obviously very attached to her employer,” Chase agreed. “Which doesn’t mean we should rule her out as a suspect, of course.”
“A suspect? But why? Why would she kill Donna? She’s not only losing her position but obviously one she was extremely fond of.”
“I don’t know,” said Chase, fiddling with his notebook. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
There was a commotion outside, and Odelia looked up. The ruckus seemed to come from the front gate, and when they stepped outside, she saw that a group of protesters were marching down the drive in the direction of the house. A few of the police officers tried to head them off, and the end result was a very voluble confrontation.
“Who are those people?” she asked as she watched the scene.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Chase suggested, and set foot for the altercation.
She followed him reluctantly. She hadn’t come here to get into a brawl with a bunch of protestors. When they came closer, she saw that they were brandishing placards that read, ‘Down With The Wall!’ ‘No To The Wall!’ ‘Don’t Take Away Our Sun!’
“What’s all this?” asked Chase as he addressed what appeared to be the most vocal protestor of the bunch. He was a red-haired red-faced man shouting, ‘Down With The Wall!’ at the top of his lungs, while engaged in a shoving match with two officers.
“They want to have a word with Donna Bruce, sir,” said one of the officers.
“You damn right we want to have a word with Donna Bruce!” the protestor yelled. “She will build her wall over our dead bodies! Do you hear me, cop! Over my dead body!”
He’d gotten right in Chase’s face. Spittle was flying and testosterone was pumping.
“I need you to back off, sir,” said Chase. “This is private property.”
“I don’t care!” yelled the guy. “I want to see Donna and I’m not leaving until I do!”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Chase, his face reddening.
“And who’s going to stop me, huh? You? You’re all protecting her, aren’t you? The whole lot of you! Well, I’m not taking any more of this crap!”
And with these words, he charged forward, embarking on a mad dash toward the house. But he hadn’t counted on Chase, who uttered a few choice curse words and then chased after the man, tackling him before he’d gone twenty yards.
The protestor, obviously not too well pleased, screamed, “Get off me, you Nazi pig!” and proceeded to hit Chase over the head with his placard. At this, Chase hauled off and hit the man in the eye. “Hey! What did you have to go and do that for?!” said the protestor dumbly, and then promptly collapsed on the ground, out for the count.
Chapter 6
The reenactment of Fight Club had taken us by surprise. Hidden beneath Odelia’s pickup, we’d had a first-row seat to the entire show, from the arrival of the dozen or so protestors to the takedown of the most fiery one of the lot by Chase. The man soon came to, and was tucked into a squad car and shipped off to the police station.
“Wow, did you see that?” asked Brutus. “That was one great punch!”
“Such a violent man,” tsk-tsked Harriet.
“Yeah, good thing Chase was here to take him out,” I said.
“I mean Chase. Who goes and punches an innocent man like that?”
We all stared at the Persian. “Wait, what?” I cried. “Chase is the hero here. Who knows what that dude was up to.”
“All he was doing was exercising his right to protest as stated in the Constitution.”
“Right to protest? He was charging the house!”
“With a placard as a weapon,” said Harriet. “Big threat.”
“Well, he still had no right to be here. This is private property and he was trespassing.”
“We are trespassing on private property,” Harriet argued. “Nobody ever gave us permission to be here, so technically we’re in violation too. But you don’t see Chase punching our lights out, do you?”
“That’s because we’re here with Odelia,” I pointed out. “So we’re not trespassing at all. We’re part of the police effort to find the killer of the owner of this private property.”
Harriet studied her nails. “You can argue all you want, Max, but the fact remains that Chase just punched a man and now I’m seeing him in an entirely different light.”
“In a great, wonderful light,” I said. “In the light of heroism! He saved us from crazy protestor guy.”
“The man has a violent streak and I for one think Odelia should be warned.”
“He does not have a violent streak! He was protecting us!”
“From a placard,” said Harriet skeptically.
“I think Harriet is right,” said Dooley.
I wheeled around. “What?!”
“Chase had no reason to punch that man. He could have simply pointed out to him in a firm voice that he was trespassing and kindly have requested him to leave.”
“He did! And the guy called him a Nazi pig!”
“Well, I’m sure it’s all one big misunderstanding,” said Dooley vaguely, directing a keen look at Harriet. Then it dawned on me. He was simply trying to get in good with the feisty white cat. Nice! My best friend was openly disagreeing with me so he could score points with Harriet. Great going, Dooley.
Just then, Odelia approached, glanced around, and then whispered, “Max! Dooley! Where are you guys?”
It was our cue and we emerged from beneath the vehicle, but not before taking a look around to ascertain whether Rex and Rollo were gone. They were.