“Remuneration?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“Food, Max!” said the large fly. “Nourishment!”
“Oh-kay,” I said, a little reluctantly. “So what do you want?”
The fly hovered up and down, then said, “A sample of your stool would be nice.”
“Deal,” I said quickly. It seemed like a small sacrifice to make to ask Odelia not to clean out our litter box until Norm had done his sampling.
“Did you just say you want our stool, Norm?” asked Dooley.
“Sure. Like it or not, but it’s one of my main sources of nourishment, little buddy. Now what do you want me to do, Max? In other words: what’s my next assignment?”
“But… stool is dirty!” said Dooley. “Stool is not to be sampled but thrown out!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy,” said the fly. “As the saying goes: one man’s stool is another man’s gourmet meal.”
I was pretty sure the saying didn’t exactly go like that, but I was already happy we could avail of Norm’s compound eyes and his sharp ears, especially now that we were suddenly faced with a family crisis of epic proportions.
“Look, Uncle Alec has been kidnapped,” I told the fly. “So whatever you can find out that will lead us to the kidnappers, that would be wonderful, Norm. Anything at all.”
“Gotcha, Max!” said the fly excitedly. “I’m on it!” And promptly he buzzed off again.
I noticed how Harriet was staring at me, her mouth slightly agape. “Did you just conduct an entire conversation… with a dung fly, Max?” she asked.
“I’m not sure he’s a dung fly,” I said, staring after Norm. “He could just be a housefly.”
“Answer the question!”
“Why, yes, I guess I did,” I admitted. “Norm is good people, Harriet. And I’m sure he’ll find out what we need to know about this kidnapping business. Plus, he’s cheap. Who else will investigate a case in exchange for a little bit of poo, if you see what I mean.”
“I don’t believe this,” said Harriet. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”
Chapter 7
“My poor brother!” said Mom. “We have to call in the FBI, the army—the National Guard!”
“We’re not calling anyone,” said Odelia decidedly. “We don’t want to endanger my uncle’s life.”
“But—”
“It’s best if we do as the kidnappers say, honey,” said Dad, placing a soothing hand on his wife’s arm.
They were all seated around the living room table, a table rarely used, as Odelia and Chase liked to eat their meals at the kitchen counter. Odelia and Chase were there, of course, and so were Odelia’s mom and dad, and also Charlene. Gran wasn’t present, nor did they want her to be. They’d immediately decided that given the old lady’s age and attachment to her son it was best not to tell her what had happened to her dear Alec.
“So what do we do now?” asked Dad, directing his question at Charlene. “Did they give you any more instructions, apart from that wedding announcement?”
“They said they’d be in touch,” said Charlene, whose eyes were red and so was her nose. “I really wish I knew what they’re up to. What this is all about.”
“All I can think is that this is some kind of revenge,” said Mom. “Someone my brother arrested and put behind bars who now wants to take revenge.” She directed a questioning look at Chase. “Maybe you can find out if anyone that Alec arrested has been released from prison recently? Someone bearing a grudge?”
“Good idea,” said Chase, nodding. “I’ll look into it.”
“But be discreet about it,” Charlene implored. “I don’t want these kidnappers to find out I’ve been talking to you—a cop.”
“I’m not here as a cop now, Charlene,” said Chase. “I’m here as a family member.”
“And Uncle Alec’s godson,” said Odelia, who hadn’t forgotten the reason Chase had come to town in the first place, when his high-flying NYPD career had tanked and he’d needed a place to lick his wounds and start over again.
“Alec gave me a fresh start,” said Chase now. “He helped me out when I was at the end of my rope. Gave me a place to stay and a job. I’d do anything for that man. So if you don’t mind I’m going to ghost your phone, Charlene.”
“Ghost my phone?” asked Charlene.
“It means he’ll know when the kidnappers call you, and he’ll be able to see what they say when they send you a message,” Odelia explained.
“Oh, right,” said Charlene, nodding distractedly. “Honestly, I’m supposed to go into work tomorrow, but I don’t feel like I can. People will know something is wrong, and they’ll ask me all kinds of questions about the wedding and I simply don’t know what to tell them.”
“They’ll simply think you’re still bowled over with Alec’s wedding proposal,” said Mom. “And if you lock yourself up in your office they’ll leave you alone. Unless you have a meeting scheduled?”
“No, nothing special,” said Charlene. She rubbed her face. “Oh, this is just a nightmare, isn’t it?”
It absolutely was, Odelia thought, and glanced over to her cats. She hoped they would be able to help find her uncle. In fact they were probably her only hope, as the family couldn’t use police resources, and Chase would have to be very discreet lest he alert the kidnappers.
She looked down at her phone and wondered now if they were being watched—or overheard?
And if they were, how were they to find out?
“Did… did these kidnapers do something with your phone?” she asked Charlene.
But the Mayor shook her head. “I don’t think so. Though they did take your uncle’s phone when they marched him out.”
Which just stood to reason, of course. And which explained why all of Odelia’s calls had gone straight to voicemail. Then she got an idea. “Can you trace my uncle’s phone somehow?” she asked Chase.
“I already did,” said the cop. “But no dice. Looks like they switched it off and removed the battery. So no way to trace him through his phone, I’m afraid.”
These crooks seemed to have thought of everything, which just proved that Mom’s theory was probably correct: most likely these were gangsters her uncle had put away at some point in his long career, and who were now out to take revenge on him.
But then why the wedding announcement?
What were they up to?
Just then, Gran came breezing into the room, and when she found all of them seated around the table looking glum, she frowned. “What’s going on?” she asked. Then when she saw Charlene’s teary face, her frown deepened. “Is the wedding off? Is that it?”
“No, the wedding isn’t off,” said Charlene, and wiped away a tear.
“So where is he? Where is that son of mine, who didn’t even have the decency to tell his sweet old mother in person about his upcoming nuptials?”
“Alec is… at work,” said Charlene, casting a quick glance at Odelia. For a politician she wasn’t very adept at lying, the latter thought.
“Yeah, he’s working late,” she said.
“Hrmph,” said Gran. “So why the shotgun wedding is what I’d like to know.” When they all stared at her, she added, “Well? Is it true what they’re saying?”
“What are they saying?” asked Mom.
“That Madam Mayor got a bun in the oven!” said Gran, who never beat about the bush and wasn’t beating about the bush now.
Charlene barked a curt laugh. “Me! Pregnant! As if!”
“No baby?” asked Gran, looking slightly disappointed. “Then why? Why the rush? And why this weird-ass announcement?”
Charlene shrugged. “I’m Mayor, Vesta, and Alec is Chief of Police. When two public figures such as ourselves decide to tie the knot the public has a right to be informed.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do, but what about me? Don’t you think the mother of the groom has a right to be informed?” She gestured to Odelia’s mom. “Or the man’s own sister?”