“Well, you got them, Charlie,” said Chase. “Now what’s all this about a knife?”
The Dieber dropped the vape he’d been sucking from into the hands of a plump woman dressed as a housekeeper, and stalked up to them. As usual, he was shirtless, wearing only Bermudas, and his bare feet slapped the marble floor. He tapped Chase’s chest with his finger, getting into the cop’s face. “Someone left a knife on my pillow. A frigging knife! So what are you going to do about it, huh? The Dieber could have died tonight!”
“I guess I’ll take a look at the knife,” Chase said with a tight smile.
The Dieber returned to pacing the living room, and Odelia didn’t know what was more unnerving, watching his Bermudas drop a little lower with every step and show a bare bottom that was as inked up as the rest of his body, or the fact that the killer had gotten so close to the star that he could have slit his throat if he wanted to.
Carlos Roulston was there, and so were the members of Charlie’s close protection team, and they escorted Odelia and Chase up a sweeping flight of stairs and into a bedroom that was easily as large as Odelia’s entire house. In fact it was safe to say Charlie’s bedroom was the size of a luxury suite and resembled one as well. The four-poster bed stood near the window, overlooking the ocean, and once again portraits of the pop star were the main decoration. The man was clearly in love with himself. There was also another white horse, rearing up with the Dieber seated on its back. Only this time the Dieber was in the nude.
She averted her gaze, suddenly feeling she’d already seen too much of the kid, and joined the guard detail around the singer’s bed, where the knife was still very much in evidence on the pillow, as indicated. Almost like a pillow chocolate, but with an edge.
“We talked to the housekeeper,” said Roulston. “She says that when the cleaners were in here there was no knife.”
“When was this?” asked Chase.
“This morning at ten, and again at ten tonight.”
“They come in twice a day?”
“Yup. Charlie is a neat freak. Wants fresh sheets put on his bed twice a day.”
“But… why?” asked Odelia.
Roulston shrugged.“Let’s just say this bed sees a lot of… action.”
“Oh.” She decided not to ask him to elaborate.
“So the knife must have been put here between the time the cleaners left and the time Charlie turned in for the night,” said Chase. “Which was… when, exactly?”
“According to Charlie he got up here at around three. Before that, he spent time in the private recording studio in the basement, working on his music. Then he went for a dip in the pool with some of his Bediebers—the girls who permanently live on-site—and when he got here with three of them—”
“He’s a horny little devil, isn’t he?” said Chase.
“He is blessed with a healthy libido,” Roulston admitted with a slight grin.
“So they got here, and then what?”
“Charlie saw the knife and freaked—screaming bloody murder. He’s been at it since.”
Odelia walked up to the bed and studied the knife. It was just your regular garden-variety kitchen knife. No note, no threatening words scribbled on the wall, no nothing.
“Interesting,” said Chase, scratching his scalp. “Any idea who could have done this?”
Roulston shook his head.“Must be one of the staff. The house is locked down at night, no one allowed in or out. I’ve got people guarding the perimeter, and I’ve hired more guards to make sure no one can get near the house or Charlie.”
“You’re saying this was an inside job.”
“Has to be. Whoever placed this knife was already on the premises.”
“One of Charlie’s girls, maybe? Jealous of one of the others?”
“We’ve talked to all of them. They don’t seem particularly attached to Charlie—simply happy for the opportunity to be close to a rich superstar and bask in the benefits.”
Chase nodded.“We’re going to want to talk to everyone on staff. Housekeepers, cleaners, drivers, chefs, servers, the pool boy—if you have a pool boy.”
“We have a pool girl,” Roulston said.
“Of course you do. I’ll call in some more colleagues, and we’ll start the interviews.”
And so it went down. Chase called Uncle Alec, who called more of his people, and for the next two hours they went through the full roster of Charlie Dieber’s staff, which was even more extensive than Odelia had imagined. The guy clearly believed in living the good life.
At least there was coffee. Plenty of coffee. And then she settled in for the duration and assisted Chase in interviewing the two dozen people who might have issued the threat.
Chapter 14
I was singing my heart out, and finally starting to feel like myself again. It was cat choir night, and I was flanked by Dooley and Brutus as I took my place in the choir and joined in the fun. Shanille, our principal conductor, was swinging her paws just so, and for a moment I forgot all my troubles as I belted out cat choir tunes with reckless abandon.
Cat choir gathers in Hampton Cove Park and is one of my favorite social gatherings. Practically every Hampton Cove cat is a member, and it’s the place to be in town once the sun goes down. All around us, night had fallen, which never bothers us one bit, since, as you may or may not know, the feline eyesight is a great deal superior to the human eyesight.
The only minor issue marring this wonderful time for us were the humans who live around the park and who enjoy yelling abuse at us. They obviously weren’t fans of music.
And we were just launching intoUptown Girl—Billy Joel is a local and a fan favorite—when two new arrivals disturbed my equanimity. They were none other than Harriet and… Diego.
Harriet had always been a member of cat choir, but hadn’t attended ever since she started seeing Diego. Probably since Diego had never been invited. Who would invite him? Not me, and definitely not Brutus or Dooley.
When our moving rendition of the Billy Joel hit was done—basically all of us screeching as hard and as loud as we could, and Shanille trying to impose a measure of harmony, Diego clapped his paws. “Beautiful!” he exclaimed. “Wonderful! Such talent!”
Shanille seemed touched.“Why, thank you, Diego. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Wait, what?” I asked. “You invited this cat?”
“Of course I invited Diego,” said Shanille. “He’ll be a great admission to cat choir.”
“But… the first rule of cat choir is… you do not talk about cat choir!” said Brutus.
“Unless a rare talent like Diego turns up,” Shanille insisted.
The other cats murmured in agreement, and all around I could sense the mood shifting. They were all looking at Diego as if he was the second coming of Christ, and Brutus, Dooley and I were the Judases standing in the cat’s way. Even Shanille was giving us a look of disapproval. “Go easy on them, Shanille,” Diego said. “They’re good cats. Just… no talent.”
“What?!” I cried. I turned to Shanille. “You’re not listening to this nonsense, are you?”
“I’m sorry, Max. I talked this through with Diego, and I have to agree. The three of you lack the required talent to be in our choir. I always knew something was amiss, I just didn’t know what it was. It took Diego to figure out what was wrong with our sound. It’s you, Max. And Brutus and Dooley. You… well, I’m just going to say it—the three of you can’t sing.”
I gawked at the cat.“You can’t be serious.”
“What is she talking about, Max?” asked Dooley.
“She’s… kicking us out!”
“You can’t kick us out,” said Brutus. “I just became a member.”
“I’m afraid Diego is right. Cat choir should be a place for the enjoyment of music. Only cats with a musical bone in their bodies are welcome. And I’m afraid you three don’t have what it takes.” She sighed deeply. “It is with great regret, therefore, that I must ask you to leave.”