“Okay,” said Kimberly with a shrug. “Just thought I’d ask, that’s all.”
“No, that’s all right,” said Dan. “I can see how this must look to you. But I can assure you that I know what I’m doing, Kimberly, and so does Odelia.”
“Hey, it’s your paper,” said Kimberly, and returned to her spot at the reception desk. Dan had given her an article to write on the theft of ten chickens from a man named Farmer Giles, and as she reread her copy she wondered how foolish Dan could be to let his only reporter run around chasing some non-existent killer while he let prime talent like her languish on chicken theft stories.
It just didn’t seem fair somehow.
Odelia waved when she caught sight of Rose. The girl looked happy to see her, and immediately came running over. School was out and dozens of students were streaming through the school gates. Odelia had parked herself right next to it, along with a small throng of waiting parents, and when Rose joined her they decided to go for a short walk to the nearby park.
“So what have you found out?” asked Rose, whose cheeks were red and who looked better now than when Odelia had seen her last.
“Not much,” said Odelia as they took a seat on a park bench and watched the never-ending flow of human traffic. Kids playing in the playground with their moms and dads keeping an eye nearby. People walking their dogs. Joggers keeping up the pace. “Oh, before I forget, I’ve got something for you.” She handed Rose back her phone and the girl grabbed it like a lifeline.
“Thanks. I missed this.”
“I thought you would have.”
“Any news on who sent me those creepy messages?”
“Not yet.”
Rose nodded, and immediately checked what texts she’d missed.
“I just talked to Daphne’s friend Grace Ojala,” said Odelia. “To see if Daphne was where she said she was.”
“And? Was she?”
“Yeah, looks like she was.”
“Daphne would never do anything to hurt my dad,” said Rose as she shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans jacket. “Whatever her faults, she was devoted to him.”
“I also talked to your dad’s business partner at the bank. His co-manager.”
“Mr. Knight.”
“Yeah. Looks like they were in the middle of some big dispute. Mr. Knight wanted to invest in a particular business deal, but your dad was dead set against it. Now that your dad is gone the deal is likely to go through.”
“That’s suspicious, isn’t it?”
“It depends. In this case I think it is, especially since the person profiting from the deal is a shady businessman. So now we have two people who stood to gain from your father’s death.”
“So are you going to tell the police to arrest them?”
Odelia smiled. “It’s not that simple, Rose. It’s not enough that you have a suspicion about a person. You have to prove that they actually did something wrong.”
“So can’t you go out and prove it? That’s your job, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m a reporter dabbling in crime detection. I’m not a professional detective and I’m not a police officer. So I don’t have access to a lot of the stuff that the police have. Though I am working on another angle. The night your dad was killed a car pulled out from in front of your house—at least according to your neighbor.”
“Mrs. Bird. She’s a weirdo. I wouldn’t listen to her if I were you.”
“She seems pretty sure in this case. Couldn’t give us a lot of detail but we’re checking traffic cameras at a nearby intersection to see if we can’t figure out who was driving that car.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have access to that kind of stuff?”
“I don’t, but my boyfriend does.”
Rose glanced over. “It must be fun to have a cop boyfriend. And especially one as handsome as yours.”
“It is a lot of fun,” she confirmed. She patted the girl’s knee. “I also talked to your boyfriend, by the way.”
“Oh, God,” Rose muttered, and looked away. “What did he have to say?”
“Well, he seems to think that your dad was under a lot of pressure.”
“He thinks I’m full of crap,” said Rose.
“He didn’t say that.”
“No, he told me. He literally said I’m full of crap. But I’m not. I know my dad, and he would never do this.”
“What about the note he left?”
“He didn’t write that—it’s not even his handwriting. Well, it looks like his handwriting, only it’s not. Someone forged that note to make it look like he killed himself.” Abruptly she got up. “Look, if you’re going to try to convince me I’m wrong, I’ll go and find another detective, Miss Poole.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Odelia quickly. “But you understand that I might find that your dad did kill himself, right?”
“You won’t, because he didn’t,” said Rose curtly, then promptly stalked off. She turned and said, “You have to try harder, Miss Poole. And don’t listen to my idiot boyfriend!”
And then she was gone.
Chapter 20
Dooley and I had been wandering through the park, discussing the case and Dooley’s fascination with Sausage Man as he now referred to his chosen killer, when we suddenly saw a familiar figure seated on a park bench. It was none other than Odelia, and judging from the way Rose Wimmer was walking away from her, hiking her backpack higher up her slender form, she’d just been in conference with her client—if a non-paying teenager can be called a client.
“Hey, you guys,” our human said when we joined her on that bench and took a seat right next to her. “I just talked to Rose. She doesn’t seem very happy with the progress I’ve made—or the lack of progress.”
“What did she say?” I asked, as I stared after the teenager as she walked off.
“She said not to believe a word her idiot boyfriend says for one thing,” said Odelia as she rubbed her eyes. “And she’s still adamant her dad was murdered, that much was obvious.”
“This is a weird case,” I ventured. “A case that isn’t much of a case, with not much to go on. A case without a real client.”
“I know. I’m not even sure there’s even a crime to investigate.” She sighed. “Why am I doing this, you guys? Please tell me.”
“Because you have a hunch,” I told her. “And a good reporter—or amateur sleuth—always follows those hunches, wherever they may lead.”
She smiled and patted my head. “You know you’re the best sidekick a detective could ever hope to find?”
“Or you’re the best sidekick a feline dick could ever hope to find,” I countered.
At the mention of the word dick Dooley looked up. “Have you found him?” he asked. “Sausage Man? Have you discovered his identity?”
“Not yet,” said Odelia. “Chase is still looking into that.”
“Maybe you should call him?” Dooley suggested.
“He would have called me if he’d discovered something. It’s not so easy. As I understand it they have to get in touch with Facebook and ask them to supply the information connected with this particular Messenger account. Also, I don’t want to bother Chase while he’s at work. Not with something that has no bearing on the case.”
“No bearing on the case!” said Dooley. “It’s only the most important piece of evidence! In fact it’s the only piece of evidence you have so far.”
“There’s also the car,” I told him. “The car the neighbor saw? That could also prove very important.” I turned to our human. “No news on that traffic camera footage?”
“Nope,” said Odelia. “Nothing so far.”
“You’re right,” I said. “This is one frustrating case.”
And so we just sat there for a moment, enjoying the day, which was shaping up to be a really nice autumn day. The leaves in the park had turned yellow and gold and had been starting to fall, and there was a definite crispness in the air that was very pleasant. Don’t get me wrong, I like it when the weather is nice and balmy, and when the sun is out, but temperatures don’t need to get too high for me to start getting a little uncomfortable. It’s this coat of fur, you see. It’s not that I can go and take it off if I get too hot. One of the less enjoyable aspects of being a cat. No zipper!