“We’re not here about the cat, honey,” Chief Alec said with a grimace.
Uh-oh. She knew that look.“Something happened, right? Something bad?”
“Afraid so,” said Chase. “Have you ever watched Niklaus Skad’sKitchen Disasters?”
“Where he humiliates and destroys restaurant owners for entertainment purposes? I’ve seen it once or twice. Not my cup of tea.”
“Well, looks like someone didn’t like him.”
“Niklaus Skad was murdered? In Hampton Cove?”
“He was here to tape a segment of his show atFry Me for an Oyster,” said Chase. “He was found this morning, stuck in the restaurant oven.”
“Completely cooked,” Uncle Alec added, shaking his head.
“Yikes. That’s a horrible way to go.” But also very apt, of course.
“We’re going out there right now,” said Chase. “So we figured you might want to tag along.”
She stared at him. Was he serious? Not all that long ago the mere thought that a reporter would tag along with him would have gotten him madder than a wet hen. And now he was actually inviting her to join him? He’d definitely had a change of heart. Then again, she’d helped him crack a few cases since they first met. And had even done him a personal favor by getting him absolved of a phony molestation charge hanging over his head.
Uncle Alec was grinning at her from behind Chase’s back, and gave her a wink. “Sure,” she said finally. “I’d love to come. Um… I need to change into something more appropriate first, though.”
Chase smiled.“Why? I love me some Betty Boop.”
“Me, too,” she said. “But it doesn’t really inspire confidence. People might think I’m a flake.”
“A cute flake,” Chase said, rocking back on his heels.
She gave him a curious glance. He was awfully cheerful this morning. Probably happy something was finally happening in Hampton Cove. For the former NYPD detective life in the small town was probably boring.
“If you’re gonna change you better do it now,” her uncle said, tapping his watch.
“Be back in a jiffy,” she said, and bounded up the stairs.
For the next fifteen minutes she showered, dressed and even took the time to apply some makeup. She might be about to meet lying suspects, heinous criminals and a very dead murder victim, but that didn’t mean she had to look like crap. And then there was Chase, of course. He might like her in her Betty Boop outfit, but she just knew she could do a whole lot better. Not that she wanted to impress him. Not her. Nah-uh.
“So why let me tag along?” she asked, scooting up the backseat of her uncle’s squad car while he put the car in gear and pulled away.
Chase turned to face her, putting his elbow on the headrest.“It’s like I told your uncle. You’ve got a knack for it, Odelia. I’ve never known anyone who’s got a knack for solving murders like you have. You’re a natural.”
“Apart from Jessica Fletcher,” her uncle said, keeping his eye on the road.
“Yes, well, your niece is a lot easier on the eyes than Jessica.”
Was he flirting with her? Not that she was complaining.“Thanks for the compliment,” she said. “Though I’m sure you’re just exaggerating.”
“About what?” asked her uncle with a twinkle in his eye. “The sleuthing thing or the easier on the eyes thing?”
“Both,” she said. “I mean, I just get lucky from time to time, I guess.”
“We both know luck’s got nothing to do with it,” said Chase. “You have a knack, Odelia, and I would be an idiot not to make good use of it.”
He gave her a penetrating look that sent her heart rate rocketing up.
“I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way, Chase,” said Chief Alec. “It sure took you long enough.”
“Yes, well, where I come from civilians don’t butt into police investigations,” he said stubbornly, repeating his old line. “They just don’t,” he repeated when the chief shook his head and uttered a groan.
“Where you come from they don’t have girls like my niece,” Alec said.
“That’s true enough,” Chase agreed with another sly look at her.
“So what about this murder?” she asked, deciding to get this conversation out of the gutter. “What have you found out so far?”
Chase took a notebook from his shirt pocket.“Murder was reported by Erin Coka. She’s a waitress and was opening up the restaurant this morning. Said she thought the chef had forgotten to turn off the oven.”
“Who’s the chef?”
“Hendrik Serarols. So far hasn’t shown up for work.”
“Which is suspicious,” her uncle said with a nod.
“Who owns Fry Me for an Oyster?” She’d never been there, but had heard good things about it.
Chase read from his notebook again.“Brainard and Isabella Stowe. It’s their third restaurant. The previous two went belly-up. This one was a success.”
“A big success,” Uncle Alec confirmed. “Which is why it got the attention of Niklaus Skad. The man likes to attach his name to success stories.”
“And then tear them down,” Odelia said, remembering some snippets fromKitchen Disasters. The man was unrelenting and brutal. She wondered what had induced the Stowes to feature on his show. Then again, any publicity was good publicity, probably. She wasn’t a marketing expert, but being on TV was probably the best way of getting your name out there.
They’d arrived at the restaurant, which was on Norfolk Street, and her uncle parked across the street. Uniformed officers were blocking anyone from entering the restaurant, and were keeping onlookers at bay.
“Did you let your cats out, Odelia?” asked her uncle, locking eyes with her through the rearview mirror.
“I’ve got a pet door,” she said. “They come and go as they please.”
“Good,” he said with a nod.
“I didn’t know you were so concerned about cats, Chief?” asked Chase, surprised.
The Chief shrugged.“What can I say? I’m a softie at heart.”
But Odelia knew why he’d asked. Unlike Chase, her uncle knew the secret of her sleuthing success. She had two assistants working for her, scouring the streets for clues: Max and Dooley. Cats are everywhere, and since people rarely hold back in front of them, they harbor a lot of secrets, and don’t mind sharing thosesecrets with other cats… like Max and Dooley.
They crossed the street. Chase and her uncle went in to check the crime scene and talk to the coroner. She stayed behind. She’d spotted what she assumed were the owners of the restaurant, and decided to have a chat.
Brainard Stowe was a stout man with a comb-over, who stood nervously hopping from one leg to the other while an officer took the couple’s statement. His wife Isabella was the motherly type, and reminded Odelia of her own mother. She was round with a kind face and overly large glasses, and was dressed in a floral print dress that seemed ill-fitted to keep her ample curves in check. She and her husband looked like they’d been rudely awakened, had put on the first thing they found, and had rushed over.
She waited patiently until the couple had given their statement, and approached them with a friendly smile.“Hi. My name is Odelia Poole. I’m a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette and a civilian consultant with the Hampton Cove Police Department. Can you tell me what happened?”
The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and it was obvious she’d been crying. Her husband, on the other hand, appeared incensed for some reason.
“I know who you are,” Isabella said. “I love your articles, Miss Poole.”
“I can’t believe this,” Brainard said. “When are they going to let us in?”
“Not until the crime scene has been thoroughly examined and the coroner has taken away the body,” I said.
His eyes shifted to me.“You’re Chief Alec’s niece, aren’t you? Can’t you ask him when I can reopen my restaurant?”
“You can ask him yourself, honey,” said his wife. “I’m sure he’ll want to talk to us once he’s through in there.”