“Oh, yes, he did,” said the Siamese with a smile. “Johnny must have recorded hundreds of songs since I came to live with him. All masterpieces.”
“I’ll bet,” Dooley muttered, earning himself another scowl.
“When was this?” I asked.
She flickered her eyelashes at me. “Is that a roundabout way of asking me how old I am?”
“Um…”
“Johnny took in any stray that wandered into his home,” she continued with a wistful smile. “But he got me from a proper breeder five years ago and I have the pedigree to show for it. Not that it matters.” She sighed. “Johnny was the most generous human a cat could ever hope to come across. He loved all of his children, as he called us, and cared for us deeply.” Once again, it looked as if she was on the verge of tears, and Dooley and I stared at her sheepishly.
I would have gone over and said, ‘There, there,’ but somehow I doubted whether this would go over well with this feisty and proud Siamese.
“Do you think there might have been foul play involved?” I asked instead.
She stared at me with her beautiful blue eyes. “I doubt it. Who would want to harm such a sweet and charming man? Everybody loved Johnny, and not just us cats. He had lots of friends, and partied every single night.”
“What about his boyfriend?” I asked. “You said yourself he was jealous.”
“Impossible. They might have had their differences, but Johnny and Jasper loved each other, in their own way. They had an understanding.”
“Which was?” asked Dooley.
She eyed him angrily. For some reason she didn’t seem to like Dooley. “I don’t expect you to understand, but they gave each other freedom and respect. Jasper knew Johnny was an artist and needed his space, so he happily gave him what he needed. He knew Johnny would never hurt him intentionally, but that he had certain… needs, and so he turned a blind eye.”
“Right,” I muttered, remembering the pile of glass vials and the reefers and the bottles of champagne. I now wondered what had been in those vials.
“How many people were here for the party?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe a dozen. Only one stayed the night, though.”
“And it wasn’t Jasper,” said Dooley.
“Like I said,” she snapped. “They had an understanding.”
“Though last night they also had a fight,” I reminded her.
“Yes, Jasper told Johnny he was fearing for his health. He was using too much and too frequently.”
“Using what?” I asked.
“Some… substance. It came in clear glass vials. It made Johnny happy.”
And now it had made him dead, I thought. “So who was the lucky young man who got to stay behind last night?”
“No idea. I was roaming the beach, and so were most of the others.”
“So who—”
“George told me. George never goes anywhere.”
“And who is this George?”
“He’s Johnny’s first cat. He brought him over from England years ago.”
“George must be pretty old by now.”
She laughed. “Don’t tell him that to his face. George is very vain.”
“Where can we find him?”
“You won’t get anything useful out of him,” she said as she started strumming the guitar with her nails. “George is extremely loyal.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered. “Thanks, Miss…”
“Johnny always called me Princess,” she said, and sighed. “I’ll miss him.”
I could very well imagine. If my human died one day, I’d miss her, too. Us cats might have the reputation we’re selfish and we don’t care about humans, but that’s a filthy lie. We do care about our humans. We just don’t care to show it as much as dogs do, with their exaggerated slobbering and posturing.
Dooley and I left the distraught Princess and made our way back to the family room, where the other cats were still looking glum. I wondered what was going to happen to them. I imagined JPG must have made provisions in his will for his beloved felines, and they would all be taken good care of.
“This makes me sad,” said Dooley, gesturing at the sad-looking cats.
“Yeah, it’s not a barrel of laughs,” I agreed.
We both stared up at a life-sized portrait of the pop singer. It depicted him in his prime, with naked torso, looking like a young god. At his feet a large red cat sat perched, staring haughtily at the viewer.
I pointed at the cat. “I’ll bet that’s George.”
“You want to have a chat with George? Or check out that pâté first?”
It was a tough choice. We’d come here for the pâté, obviously, but we also had an obligation to Odelia to find out as much as we could from the feline population about what had happened here last night. Finally, I said, “That pâté isn’t going away, so we better talk to George first.”
“Didn’t you hear Princess? George has been here for years. He’s the one who’s not going away. That pâté might be gone by the time we find it.” He shook his head. “A distressed cat eats, Max. It’s called stress-eating.”
He was right, of course. Still… “Look, this talk with George won’t take long, and I’ll bet there’s plenty of pâté. JPG didn’t stint on anything.”
“Why don’t we split up? I’ll look for the pâté and you look for George.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “So you can eat all the pâté? I don’t think so.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Max. I’m not a glutton. I’d simply sample the stuff. Just to see if it’s as good as advertised. And if it is, I’ll leave some for you.”
“That’s very generous. You know what? I’ll look for that pâté. You find George.”
“You’re a much better interrogator, Max. Cats open up to you.”
“Why don’t we find that pâté together,” I finally suggested, “before it’s all gone.”
“Now you’re talking. Hey, look,” he said, gesturing at a lone ginger cat that shuffled out of the family room. It was the fattest cat I’d ever seen.
“That must be George,” I said.
“Let’s ask him where the pâté is,” Dooley said happily.
“Good call,” I grunted, a low rumble in my tummy deciding me.
Hey, we’re cats. We’re willing to do whatever it takes to help out our humans. As long as you keep us properly fed and hydrated.
Chapter Three
Odelia got up to meet her uncle and Chase. She’d been seated on one of the pool chairs, thinking deep thoughts about the fleetingness of life.
She gestured at the man floating in the pool. “This is how I found him.”
“And what were you doing here, exactly?” asked Chase, none too friendly as usual. Ever since the burly cop had moved to Hampton Cove, he and Odelia had locked horns over his idea that the citizenry had no place in police investigations, whereas she felt she was simply doing her duty to the Hampton Cove population by reporting on any crime that was committed here.
“I had an interview with him, and when he didn’t answer the door…”
“You decided to break in,” Chase supplied.
“I was worried when he didn’t answer the door,” she said with some heat. Why did this guy insist on rubbing her the wrong way? “So, yes, I decided to walk round the back and see what was going on. What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t believe you have to ask,” he grumbled, shaking his head.
Uncle Alec knelt next to the pool. “That’s Johnny, all right,” he said.
“How do you know?” asked Chase, joining him.
The Chief pointed. “See those tattoos? Johnny was famous for those. They were on one of his best-selling albums. Unicorns and Rainbows.”
“I remember,” said Chase, nodding, and started singing softly. “Unicorns and rainbows. That’s the way the wind blows. Loved you in those funky cornrows…”
Now it was Odelia’s turn to give him a curious look.
“What? I loved that song,” said Chase.
“I had you pegged as a country and western kind of guy. Not a JPG fan.”
“Hey, I was young once.”
“Hard to imagine,” she muttered. She saw that her uncle was checking the glass vials on the poolside table. “What do you think those are?”