The old lady smiled and sighed a happy little sigh.
Sometimes romance happened in real life, too.
CHAPTER 33
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Odelia was walking from her office to the precinct when a gray Mercedes parked next to her and a woman stepped out of the vehicle. She almost bumped into her, and a look of recognition passed over the other person’s face.
“Odelia Kingsley, isn’t it?” asked Deith Madison.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Madison,” said Odelia. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“I know. And I’ve been trying to stave you off,” said the woman with a vague smile. “I should have known that reporters are worse than pit bulls once they’ve picked up the scent of their prey.” She sighed resignedly. “So just ask what you want to ask, and I’ll try and answer you as truthfully as possible. How about that?”
“That’s all I want,” said Odelia, who was feeling inordinately pleased that Deith Madison had compared her to a pit bull. “Last time we spoke you denied that your husband was having an affair with his personal assistant. You called it filth and lies and threatened to sue my newspaper if we dared to print the story.”
Deith studied Odelia for a moment, then finally relented.“Michael and I enjoyed a marriage of convenience. He had his affairs and I had mine. And in the meantime we had an understanding that we would never get divorced. It was an arrangement that was mutually beneficial. It provided Michael with the benefit of a vast fortune that I inherited from my side of the family, and it provided me with the connections that he made through the work that he did. So yes, it doesn’t surprise me that he was having an affair with his personal assistant.”
“Who is now pregnant with his baby.”
Deith’s expression darkened. “Michael was usually very careful about these things. So when he told me Natalie was pregnant, I have to admit I was upset. We had an arrangement, but that didn’t include having kids with other women.”
“Which gave you a solid motive for his murder,” Odelia pointed out.
Deith threw back her head and laughed.“Oh, honey, if Mike knocking up some girl gave me a motive to murder him, I would have done it a long time ago. This wasn’t the first time this happened. And even though I was furious, I wasn’t going to kill him over it. So please spare me the amateur detective stuff.”
“Were you really home the night your husband was killed, Mrs. Madison?”
“I was,” she said. “Michael and I lived separate lives. I lived in my part of the house, and he lived in his. We still spent plenty of time together, but it was an arrangement that suited us both very well.” She gave Odelia a look of amusement, then took out her phone and showed her a phonenumber.
“What’s this?” asked Odelia.
“My alibi,” said Deith. “It’s my boyfriend’s number. Call him and he’ll confirm that he was with me all night that night. I didn’t want to go through the bother of dragging him into this mess, but someone told me you’re the chief of police’s niece, and that your husband is the detective investigating my husband’s death. So before you haul me away, accusing me of all kinds of stuff, please call Alain.”
“Alain?” said Odelia, dutifully entering the number into her phone.
“Alain Maury,” said Deith. “He won’t mind answering your questions. And now if there’s nothing else, I would like to talk to my lawyer.” When Odelia made to speak, she held up her hand. “About the inheritance, not this so-called murder.” And with these words, she was off, clutching her Chanel purse under her arms, looking like a woman with not a single care in the world.
Odelia sighed. If only she could exude so much class!
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
The day of Harriet’s photoshoot had finally arrived. The prissy Persian was primped and ready, and not a little excited to give of her best and become the first feline in Hampton Cove to grace the cover ofCat Life, only the most popular magazine for cat lovers in the country—perhaps even the world!
The location of the shoot was a studio located on the top floor of Advantage Publishing headquarters, which was a slight disappointment, for Harriet had fully expected the shoot to be an outdoor affair, with some glorious scenery to be displayed behind her. Perhaps the Sahara desert, or the Manhattan skyline.
Instead, they had her in front of a green screen, with the photographer explaining to Odelia and Gran and Scarlett and Marge, who had all decided to be there for this momentous occasion, that they would fill in the background later on. It could be the Eiffel Tower, or the Grand Canyon, or some babbling brook or even an airplane. They hadn’t decided yet, which Harriet thought was outrageous.
Then again, the company had just lost its CEO, so perhaps that was the reason they were so ill-prepared.
“I think you look great, sugar pie,” said Brutus, who was watching from the sidelines as Harriet got done up to perfection by a professional pet groomer.
“I know I look great,” said Harriet as she followed the groomer’s progress in the mirror. That spot on her nose was gone, and no other spots had appeared, so it was all good. Except that she felt that her nose didn’t look its usual roseate pink but had developed a slight brownish discoloration. Nothing Photoshop wouldn’t be able to fix, however—as Brutus kept saying.
“How long is this going to take?” she heard Gran ask. “It’s just that we’re supposed to be working.”
“You’re an intern, aren’t you?” Harriet snapped. “So that means you’re not being paid. Which means you can take as many breaks as you want.”
Gran declined to respond, since it would look a little weird in front of the photographer and his team, but she could tell that the old lady couldn’t wait to get back to the office, and do whatever it was that she was doing there. Some matchmaking nonsense, if Max was to be believed. Just a lot of silliness, at any rate. What could be more important than this photoshoot? Nothing!
“Just sit back and enjoy,” said the groomer as she powdered Harriet’s nose. “This is your moment, sweetie. This is the day you’re going to be immortalized!”
And so she sat back and tried to relax. This was her moment. Her big moment!
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
I was watching the scene with a sort of detachment. My mind was whirring with potential suspects and possible scenarios of how Michael Madison could have met such a sticky end. Odelia had told us about her brief interview with Deith Madison, and how she had checked with the woman’s boyfriend, who’d confirmed her alibi. So that was one less suspect to consider, which unfortunately didn’t make things easier for us.
We’d already come to the conclusion that Tom Mitchell was our guy, considering his habit of chucking people he didn’t like out of windows. But a second visit to Melanie Mitchell had only met with the latter’s firm reiteration of her earlier statement that Tom had been home that night—all night.
So he couldn’t have done it either. Unless Melanie was lying, of course.
“She looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?” said Brutus with a sort of whimpering adulation. “These pictures are for the kids.”
“What kids?” I asked. “You guys don’t have kids.”
Brutus winced.“Please keep your voice down!”
“But it’s true,” I said. “You’re neutered and Harriet is spayed.”
“We could always adopt,” he said.
“But—”
“For God’s sakes, Max, don’t spoil Harriet’s finest hour!”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Forget I said anything.”
“I will. Now please be quiet. This is her moment. Her moment to shine.”
And shine, she did. The groomer had finished prepping her to within an inch of her life, and she had never looked better—or more unnatural. Her fur had a sort of shine to it, which very likely came from a bottle, and her face was lit up.