Rapp nodded.“Glimmer published a pretty scathing article on his latest collection, and Howard wasn’t happy about it. Accused us of writing a hit piece.”
“Who wrote the article?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part. Mike wrote it himself. Before he became CEO he was a pretty accomplished editor himself, and he liked to keep his hand in, so to speak. At first Howard thought I’d written the piece, so he came after me. But Mike was decent enough to own up and admit he wasthe actual culprit.”
“And Howard wasn’t happy with Mike.”
“You can say that again. They had a flaming row in Mike’s office.”
“When was this?”
“Couple of days ago. I wasn’t there, of course, but a friend texted me. Said it was epic.” He flashed a quick grin. “Howard really threw his weight around.”
Odelia nodded and wrote down the name.“Anyone else?”
Rapp shook his head slowly.“Not that I can think of. I mean, how sure are you that it was murder? Who is your source?”
She smiled.“You know I can’t tell you, Gary. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure.”
“God. Who would do such a thing? It’s just so…” He lapsed into silence, then dumped the remainder of his drink down the hatch in one go. “Sobarbaric.”
CHAPTER 24
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It wasn’t easy for Odelia to arrange an interview with Ona Konpacka. The former model wasn’t giving interviews—no exceptions. In fact according to her former publicist she wasn’t seeing anyone, a big change from before, when she had enjoyed a dozenGlimmer covers—the most for any model ever—and her face had featured on anything from billboards to commercials to cameos in blockbuster movies. But no more.
If Miss Konpacka thought Odelia would give up so easily, she was mistaken, though. She can be quite tenacious, our human. And so instead of going in herself, she dispatched Dooley and me to do the honors. Yikes!
“I’ve never done an interview for theGazette before, Max,” said Dooley nervously. “I’m not sure I can do it. We haven’t had the training!”
“We’re not actually going to interview Miss Konpacka,” I told him. “We’re just going to talk to her miniature Brussels Griffon Joey.”
“What’s a Brussels Griffon, Max? Is that like a Brussels sprout?”
“I doubt it, Dooley” I said. “I think it’s hard to interview a Brussels sprout.”
Odelia had dropped us off in front of the apartment building where Ona Konpacka lived. According to her information—gleaned from Gran and Scarlett—the prematurely retired supermodel adored her Brussels Griffon Joey, and allowed no one else close to her accept the tiny doggie, who had been her constant companion when she was still traveling the world to the most exotic locations on the planet for her photoshoots, and who was her only friend now.
“Toi toi toi!” Odelia said as she watched us mount the fire escape that snaked up the tall brown brick building.
“Why does Odelia call us Toi?” asked Dooley.
“It’s an expression people use to wish someone luck,” I explained. “Like break a leg?”
Dooley started violently.“But I don’t want to break a leg!”
“If you tell someone to break a leg, they’re not going to break a leg,” I said. “It’s a kind of superstition.”
“I see,” he said, but I could see that he didn’t.
We climbed that fire escape to the top floor, where the model lived, and I sincerely hoped that Odelia had done her homework, and Ona hadn’t traded in her miniature Brussels Griffon with a Doberman. Or a pit bull terrier! Cats may be brave creatures, always ready to dive into a badger’s burrow, but we’re not suicidal!
“I wonder what Harriet and Brutus are up to,” said Dooley. “And why they’re not here with us right now. I mean, I don’t mind being Odelia’s eyes and ears, but it’s always the same cats having to do her dirty work, isn’t it, Max?”
“It’s because she trusts us, Dooley,” I said.
“You mean she doesn’t trust Harriet and Brutus?”
I hesitated.“I wouldn’t go as far as that,” I said, prevaricating. “But maybe she trusts us just that little bit more than she does our friends. And anyway, Harriet is too busy preserving her beauty and worrying about her shoot right now, and Brutus has to make sure she looks her absolute best all the time, so there’s that.”
“I wouldn’t mind being on the cover ofCat Life. I may not be the prettiest cat around, but I’m not that ugly either, right?”
“No, you’re not ugly at all,” I said with a smile.
“Or maybe you could be on the cover, Max. I’m sure in this day and age of diversity, a plus-sized model like you would look good on the cover ofCat Life.”
My smile vanished.“Let’s just focus on the task at hand, shall we?” I suggested. All this talk about cover models was starting to annoy me. We had a murder to solve, after all, not contemplate ways and means of makingCat Life more diverse.
We finally arrived on the balcony that wrapped around Ona Konpacka’s apartment, and took a moment to catch our breath. When I looked down, I could see Odelia leaning against her pickup, patiently awaiting our return, hopefully with some exciting news about this potential suspect.
We didn’t have long to search for the model’s constant companion: on the other side of the glass window a little doggie was staring back at us. It looked like one of the Ewoks in those Star Wars movies: very tiny and very hairy.
“It looks like a rat,” said Dooley when he caught sight of the creature.
“I’m sure it’s not a rat,” I assured him.
“Or a badger.”
The doggie, recovering from the shock of this sudden and unexpected intrusion, started barking furiously, jerking back and forth as it did in a sort of full-body spasm. For a moment I thought it was going to have a heart attack, but it seemed to be the way it responded to unwanted intruders.
After what felt like an eternity, a human person appeared, and when I looked up, I found myself gazing into the face that had once been described by an astute observer as the most beautiful face in the world.
Now I’m not a human myself, of course, so I’m not exactly the best judge of what constitutes or doesn’t constitute beauty in humans, but this particular face didn’t exactly strike me as particularly beautiful. Then again, tastes differ.
Ona Konpacka, if this was her, had a sort of square face, with plenty of lumps where no lumps were supposed to be, and lips that were entirely too plump for comfort. In fact her face looked like a landscape, but with the dales and peaks in all the wrong places. Possibly a consequence of that botched cosmetic procedure.
She frowned at us a good deal, picking up Joey in the process, then finally opened the sliding glass door to take a closer look at this oddly mismatched duo.
“Did you guys get lost?” she asked. “You climbed and climbed and now you don’t know how to get down?”
As agreed, both Dooley and I started meowing piteously, clawing the air with one paw, and making the kind of pleading faces humans think only dogs can make. It prompted the kind of response we were hoping for: Ona Konpacka’s cat eyes—perhaps the result of one too many facelifts—turned moist with pity.
“Oh, will you look at these two sweeties!” she cried, as she bent down. In the process the Ewok poured from her arms and took up its barking frenzy once more. “No, Joey,” said Ona sternly. “Can’t you see you’re scaring the poor kitties?”
“Yeah, you’re scaring the poor kitties, Joey,” said Dooley.
The doggie abruptly stopped barking.“Who are you?” it demanded.
“My name is Max,” I said. “And this is my friend Dooley.”
“I’ll go and get you something to eat,” Ona announced, and wagged a warning finger at Joey. “There will be no more barking, you hear? Be nice to the kitties.”
“Yes, be nice to the kitties,” Dooley echoed.
Ona returned indoors, and then it was just us and Joey.
“So are you a girl or a boy?” asked Dooley, curious. “Or neither?”