Gran eyed her closely. “You’re sweet on the guy, aren’t you? Figures.”
“No, I’m not!”
But Gran wagged a finger in her face. “Let me give you a piece of advice, missy: Captain Hottie Beefcake is trouble with a capital T. Take it from me.”
Gran just might be right for a change, she thought ruefully. If those strange jitters in her belly were anything to go by, she was in big trouble.
Chapter 20
Dinner was served exactly at seven, with the entire Poole clan pitching in. Before dinner, Odelia had slipped over to her place to freshen up a little, and saw that the two cats lay passed out on the couch. They didn’t even stir when she breezed past and then hurried out again. In fact they looked completely bushed, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Usually they slept during the day and spent all night out and about. Today they’d snooped around all day, and were exhausted. She gave them a gentle stroke, and then left with a smile. She’d talk to them tonight, and see if they’d been able to come up with anything.
She’d opted for linen pants and a black blouse, applying minimal makeup. She refused to go all out, not wanting Detective Kingsley to think she was dressing up for his sake. She didn’t want to reward the man’s arrogance.
They’d prepared a simple meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and veggies, with a side salad, and when their guests finally arrived, the table was set. Before dinner, aperitifs were in order, as Odelia’s dad—and Gran— liked their preprandial drink. When the doorbell rang, and Mom went to open the door, drinks were served even before Uncle Alec and Chase walked in.
Alec, who knew his way around his sister’s place, accepted his usual martini from Dad, who then offered one to Chase, who politely declined.
Odelia, looking on from the kitchen entrance, couldn’t help but notice the detective looked even more handsome than that afternoon. He’d put on a crisply fresh white cotton shirt, snugly fitting jeans low on narrow hips, and his dark brown hair curled across his brow in a sexy sweep. The man could have been an advertisement for a brand of jeans, or an advertisement for whatever. With a muscular frame like that, she’d definitely buy whatever he was selling, and she was pretty sure other women would feel the same way.
Speaking of other women, it didn’t escape her attention that the moment Chase walked into the living room, both Mom and Gran lavished their attention on him. Shaking her head, she picked up her own drink—flat water—and joined her dad and uncle out on the deck. They were already engaged in a conversation about the murder case, with Uncle Alec discussing some of the medical aspects of the case, and Dad providing his professional opinion.
Out in the yard, she saw Harriet languidly enjoying the lowering sun rays, licking her snowy white fur, while a new cat she’d never seen before, looked on. The newcomer was black as night and looked gorgeous. This, she assumed, was Brutus, and the reason Max and Dooley were in such a tizzy. She could see why. A prime specimen like this walking into their lives and stealing the attention of the only female in their small band of three, it was bound to upset the delicate balance that had existed all their lives.
“Black and white. Nice combo,” a sonorous voice spoke behind her. She knew Chase was referring to the cats, but he might as well have been talking about them, with her black blouse and his white shirt.
She squinted at the cats, who only had eyes for each other. “Is it just me but does that big, black cat look like it’s about to pounce on poor Harriet?”
“From where I’m standing it looks like he’s trying to figure out what makes her tick,” Chase said. Turning, she noticed he was clutching a drink, something amber in a tumbler. So either Gran or Mom must have persuaded him to adhere to the Poole house rules and accept an aperitif after all.
“Oh?” she asked. “So he doesn’t strike you as a lecherous creep?”
He grinned and took a sip from his drink. “Nope. He strikes me as a cat who’s in way over his head, and doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”
Now it was her turn to smile. “That’s what you get when you transport a big-city cat to a small town. They tend to underestimate the locals.”
“Yeah, you just might be right about that,” he grunted. “Though the same can be said for the locals. They tend to completely misjudge newcomers. Assign them all kinds of qualities they don’t remotely possess.”
“And what qualities might that be?” she asked sweetly. “Arrogance? Pigheadedness? Refusal to accept the status quo?”
“You seem to forget that the newcomer has a distinct advantage.”
“And what’s that?”
“The advantage of the outside view. A fresh set of eyes on a situation that may look all too familiar to those who grew up in this town, and might miss the obvious staring them in the face.”
She looked up sharply. “Why do I get the impression we’re not talking about that nasty cat of yours?”
“Nasty?” he asked with a chuckle. “There’s nothing nasty about Brutus.”
“He’s been terrorizing my cats,” she said. “Muscling in on their territory and—” She gestured at Harriet “—persecuting their poor, helpless friend.”
“That Persian doesn’t strike me as helpless,” he said. “On the contrary, she seems to enjoy the attention. In fact she downright revels in it.”
“I think she’s simply intimidated. She probably can’t wait to get away from him but is scared he might become aggressive if she makes a move.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “I’ll have you know that Brutus has never in his life needed to resort to strong-arm tactics to get a female’s attention.”
“Well, he’s not in the big city now, is he? He’s in Hampton Cove, where cats are different and might not respond to him the way he’s used to.”
He laughed. “You’re damn right about that. This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen. For one thing, in New York reporters don’t investigate crime.”
“Well, out here they do, so you better get used to it, Detective.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
She stared at him in surprise. Was he finally seeing things her way?
“Have you interviewed any more suspects?” she asked.
“If I had I wouldn’t tell you,” he said simply.
So much for seeing things her way. “I thought as much. Good thing Uncle Alec keeps me informed, otherwise I’d never be able to nail this killer.”
“Now look here, Miss Poole…”
“No, you look here, Detective. I’m going to catch this killer before you even sniff out your first clue. That’s the way we do things down here.”
“And I’ll have you know, Miss Poole, that you’re in way over your head here. Catching killers is police business, and reporters like you should stick to what they’re good at: writing about mermaids and children’s library wings.”
In spite of herself she had to smile at that. Dan must have posted her articles on the site after she left. “So you’ve been reading my stuff, huh?”
“I have,” he admitted. “I need to soak in the atmosphere so I had to start somewhere. Alec suggested I start with the Gazette and take it from there.”
“You forgot about the opening of the new flower shop on Bleecker Street,” she said with a grin. “Possibly some of my best writing to date.”
“You are a great writer,” he admitted. “Which is why you should stick to that, and make sure you keep out of harm’s way.”
“Are you threatening me, Detective?” she asked, her frown returning.
“No, but the killer might, if you get too close.”
“So you’re admitting I’m getting close to solving this case, huh?”
“I’m admitting that you’re not trained to deal with a murderer on the loose, and I’d feel a lot better when you leave the sleuthing to Alec and me.”