“I have no idea. As far as I know Grandpa was always one for clean living, and tried to steer clear of any kind of vice. Though apparently he was not above selling cigars to his neighbors.”
“Not exactly a great crime.”
“No, but what if that’s only part of the story? What if he got involved with some shady characters? Maybe as a way to supplement his pension? I just wish he’d told me. I could have helped.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder.“It’s not your fault. Your grandfather is a grown man. He knows how to take care of himself.”
“Or not.”
He rang the bell and moments later we were ensconced in the cozy kitchen of a small apartment that housed Chase’s mom and her sister. Aunt Ariadne was a forceful and voluble woman, apparently quite the opposite of Martha Kingsley. Chase had warned me his mom wasn’t exactly the life and soul of the party. After Chase’s dad died, she’d had a mental breakdown, and now lived with Ariadne, who was also awidow, though her husband hadn’t been a cop but an MTA security guard. And instead of dying from a gunshot wound, like Chase’s dad, he’d died of a coronary after a lifelong habit of enjoying all the best Kentucky Fried Chicken had to offer.
“So you finally come to see us, huh?” asked Ariadne, chopping an innocent onion on the chopping block with so much violence I was sure she was going to cut straight through the block.
“I told you, Aunt Ariadne. I’ve been busy.”
“So you say,” she snapped. “So busy you can’t even visit your own mother. Huh!”
I decided that maybe I should intervene on Chase’s behalf. “It’s true, Aunt Ariadne. Chase has been very busy. Lots of criminals to catch and all that.”
“Huh! Criminals in The Hamptons! Everybody knows they don’t have real criminals in The Hamptons! Only a bunch of teenagers crashing cars on Friday night.”
“Well, we do have our fair amount of murders.”
“Murders! A bunch of rich people killing other rich people is not what I call murder.”
“What would you call it then?” asked Chase, giving me a cheery wink.
“Good riddance! I hope they all murder each other! Every last one of them! The world would be a much better place without all those horrible excuses for human beings! Leeches, the lot of ‘em!”
It was pretty clear to me that, like Sally Borrell, Aunt Ariadne wasn’t big on celebrities. I couldn’t blame her. After living in Hampton Cove all my life, and meeting my fair share of them, I could honestly say a lot of them were indeed horrible human beings. But to say that they deserved to be murdered was a little extreme. Nobody deserved to be murdered, though when Ariadne attacked a sweet little carrot with the same fervor she’d destroyed that onion, I decided wisely to keep my mouth shut this time. I did not want to provoke a woman who could handle a knife like that.
“So how’s Mom?” asked Chase.
“Ask her yourself! She’s in her room!”
Drawn by all the shouting, a woman appeared in the doorframe. She shuffled in, all one hundred pounds of her. Chase warmly enveloped her in an embrace.“Hey, Mom,” he said softly.
“Chase,” she said croakily. “It’s so good to see you.”
She was smaller than me, which was saying something as I’m pretty pint-sized myself, and she looked even thinner than me, too. About the size of the average New York catwalk model, I would say. She had a lovely face, short gray hair, and large eyes. All in all, she looked healthy. Not the human wreck Chase had made her out to be. And she seemed to recognize her son just fine, even calling him by his actual name. None of that ‘Johnny the Milkman’ stuff this time.
The woman turned to me.“And who is this? A colleague of yours?”
“Yes, she is, and also my girlfriend.”
The woman’s large eyes went even larger. “Your girlfriend!”
“You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend!” Aunt Ariadne harrumphed.
“Well, I do, and this is her. Odelia Poole. She’s a reporter.”
“A reporter!” Aunt Ariadne bellowed, as if I was Satan’s spawn itself.
“And a civilian consultant to the police department,” I hastened to add, hoping this would guarantee me safe passage from this apartment, in the event Aunt Ariadne didn’t kill me on the spot.
Both women studied me carefully.“She’s skinny,” Aunt Ariadne finally decided.
“She’s lovely,” said Chase’s mother.
“Thanks, Mrs. Kingsley,” I said.
“So where did you find her? asked Ariadne.
“Hampton Cove,” I said. “It’s where I live. And work.”
Aunt Ariadne snorted loudly.“The Hamptons again, eh? Are you a celebrity?”
“No, I’m not,” I admitted. “And I haven’t murdered one either.”
“Too bad. Everyone should murder a celebrity from time to time. Make a habit of it.”
“Odelia has actually solved a lot of celebrity murders,” said Chase. “She’s an ace sleuth.”
“Is she now?” asked Aunt Ariadne, giving me a dirty scowl. “Now why would you go and do a silly thing like that?”
“Because celebrities are just like people,” I said defensively, repeating something I’d told Detective Borrell. “I mean, celebritiesare people, obviously, and when they’re murdered they deserve to receive the same justice as the rest of us.”
“Silly notion, if you ask me. Damn silly.”
“Oh, come off it, Ariadne,” said Martha. “I think it’s wonderful. Chase has found himself a fellow sleuth to go sleuthing with. I think it’s wonderfully romantic.”
“Sleuthing together? Romantic? You’re nuts, Martha.”
“No, I’m not. You’re nuts if you think all celebrities are scum.”
“Theyare scum! A bunch of useless wastrels, the lot of them. Wasting our time, wasting our money, wasting our humanity.” She wagged a finger in my face. “Next time a celebrity is murdered, you should give the killer the Nobel Prize, that’s what you should do!”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not in my power to dole out Nobel Prizes,” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed by this woman. I kept my eye on that huge knife, hoping I’d said the right thing.
“’Stop scaring the girl,” said Martha. “Is this really the first impression you want to make on your future niece-in-law?”
“Niece-in-law?” asked Ariadne with a frown. “Are you going to marry this stick figure?”
“She’s not a stick figure,” Martha protested. “She’s simply slim, that’s all. Just like me.”
“And haven’t I told you a thousand times you have to eat more?!”
“You have, and I do, but I’m not like you. I don’t gain weight when I look at a glass of water.”
“Oh, now you’re calling me fat, are you? Nice! I put a roof over your head, sister!”
Chase had sidled up to me.“Are you all right? Aunt Ariadne can be a bit… forceful.”
“Scary, you mean.”
He grinned.“She used to scare the crap out of me when I was little. Still does, actually.”
We both watched the woman wield that knife as if she was going to carve up Martha. Finally, she placed it down and continued the argument unarmed, and we both heaved a sigh of relief.
“Um, can I ask you something?” asked Chase.
“What?” grumbled Ariadne, who’d turned to her pots that were simmering on the stove.
“Have you heard from Grandpa Kingsley lately?”
“No, we haven’t,” said Martha. “Why? Is there something wrong?”
Chase frowned.“No, I’m sure there isn’t,” he said, clearly not wanting to cause alarm. “He hasn’t returned my calls is all. And when I went to see him this morning he wasn’t home.”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” said Martha.
“He’s probably drunk like a skunk and sleeping it off on some bench in Central Park,” said Aunt Ariadne, wiping her hands on her apron. “Typical.”
“Grandpa doesn’t do public intoxication,” said Chase. “So that’s out of the question.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” said his mother. “He’s just being secretive. You know your grandfather. He likes to surprise people.”