“It is my business because I choose to make it my business.”
“Oh? Last time I checked you weren’t on the police payroll, Miss Poole.”
“Odelia is part of the family, Chase,” said Chief Alec, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “We’re all on the same page here. One great team.”
He held up his hands.“All right, Chief. But I still think it’s highly unorthodox, and if I were you I’d reconsider the leeway you’re granting her.”
“Well, you’re not me, son,” said the chief with a smile.
“Yes, Detective Kingsley, you’re not the chief of police in this town,” said Odelia. “So please stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, for the man’s eyes were shooting fire now. Blue sheets of flame. In fact they now reminded her of twin laser beams, doing their utmost to blast through her skull and incinerate her on the spot. She swallowed. She had the impression it wasn’t wise to be on his bad side.
Chief Alec cleared his throat noisily.“So, about Paulo Frey. I can confirm that we found his body at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge outhouse well and that it’s been transferred to the ME’s office for an autopsy.”
“Do you think he fell down that well by accident?”
“Considering the fact that his luggage, his clothes, his laptop and all of his other stuff were also down there, I think it’s safe to say he was murdered. But like I said, it’s all up to the Medical Examiner now to know for sure.”
“Do you have any leads on the killer?”
“None yet.”
“When did he disappear again? I seem to remember sometime last year?”
“It’s been over a year,” the chief confirmed, then shook his head. “It’s going to be very hard to figure out what exactly happened.”
She thought she understood. After such a long time there probably wasn’t much left of the body. “Did you…” She swallowed. “Did you see the body?”
He nodded, a grim set to his face.“Yes, I did. We had to disassemble the outhouse and get the cesspool pumping guys in there. Took us the better part of yesterday to do that. The body was pretty decomposed when we finally found it at the bottom. Practically all that’s left is a skeleton with some remnants of skin and hair.” He sighed. “Not a pretty sight, Odelia.”
“So how do you know it’s Paulo Frey?”
“Well, we found his ID, laptop, smartphone, luggage… Hard to tell from the body, of course. But I’m pretty sure dental records will back us up.”
“And DNA.”
“Yeah, if necessary they’ll do a DNA test, I’m sure. But I think dental will provide adequate proof of identity, and much quicker, too.”
“Crap, Uncle Alec. A real murder in Hampton Cove.”
“Yeah, it’s a nasty business,” he agreed. “A very nasty business indeed.”
“You don’t get a lot of murders down here?” asked Chase.
“None,” said Odelia and Chief Alec simultaneously.
“This is a very peaceful town, Detective Kingsley,” said Odelia. “In fact I wonder what a big city cop like you is doing down here.”
“I have my reasons,” he immediately cut her off.
“Let’s just say that Chase here needed a change of pace,” said the chief pacifically. “And we’re mighty glad he chose Hampton Cove. The NYPD’s loss is definitely our gain,” he stressed, giving Odelia a keen look. “We need men like Chase on the force. None of us are getting any younger.”
Crap. Was Uncle Alec thinking about retiring and appointing Chase Kingsley his replacement? Then she’d just antagonized the next chief.
She nodded, and a look of understanding passed between herself and her uncle. She would cut the new detective some slack. But then she remembered something else, and turned to Chase again.“Could you please do something about that cat of yours, Detective Kingsley?”
His eyebrows shot up.“My… cat?”
“Yes. He’s been throwing his weight around all over town, scaring the local cats and behaving as if he owns the place. More specifically, he’s been terrorizing my own cat Max. Really behaving like a genuine bully.”
Chase’s eyebrows shot up even further into his fringe. “Your cat Max.”
She nodded seriously.“He’s chased him out of the park…” She was going to add he’d also barred Max access to the police station, but stopped herself.
The chief coughed.“Odelia loves her cat, don’t you, honey?”
Chase barked an incredulous laugh.“I don’t believe this. You’re telling me that my cat is bullying your cat?”
She pursed her lips.“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can’t simply barge into town and start throwing your weight around, Detective Kingsley.”
He rolled his eyes.“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So you better have a talk with your cat and tell him to behave, all right?”
Chase threw up his hands.“Sure! Of course! Why not? I’ll ‘talk’ to my cat. Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Miss Poole? Tell my begonias not to take up so much space in my garden? Cause God knows they shouldn’t simply barge in here and start bullying other plants in other gardens!”
“You’re making fun of me now,” she said, eyeing him darkly.
“No,you’re making fun ofme!” he snapped, then turned away from her, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘Who the heck do you think I am? Doctor frickin’ Dolittle?’
“Well, that’s settled then,” said the chief, placing his hands on his desk. He was looking uncomfortable. “Chase will have a word with his cat, and—”
“—as soon as you hear from the ME’s office—”
“—I’ll be sure to give you a call,” he finished with a wide smile.
“Of course you will,” Chase added with another eye roll.
She turned.“You’ll soon find that down here in Hampton Cove we do things differently than in the big city, Detective Kingsley,” she snapped.
“You don’t say,” he muttered.
“So I suggest you get used to it,” she added, and without deigning him another glance, swept from the office and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 5
I decided to return to the house and regroup. This whole business with Brutus had thrown me for a loop. If you can’t even go where you want in your own town, it’s a sad state of affairs. So when I arrived in my own backyard again, I felt both relieved—this was most definitely my domain and no domineering cat could tell me otherwise—and annoyed, for I suddenly felt cooped up for the first time in my life. When you’re a free roaming spirit and suddenly you’re forcibly confined to your own backyard, it’s not much fun.
I suddenly felt what prisoners must feel like once they find themselves locked up in Guantanamo Bay. I even had the orange jumpsuit to go with my current position. Well, not the jumpsuit, maybe. But definitely the right color.
The moment I set foot in my yard, Harriet and Dooley came trotting up. I swear they have a sixth sense about these things. Or maybe they simply gab a lot. Word spreads fast in our small Hampton Cove cat community.
“What happened?” asked Harriet. She appeared genuinely worried, which felt like balm to my wounded pride.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” Dooley asked. “I heard you got kicked out of the police station by that brute Brutus?”
“And is it true that a man was murdered?” asked Harriet, eyes wide.
“How do you guys even know about that?”
“Well, Stacy Brown’s cat witnessed the standoff between you and Brutus, and Father Reilly’s tabby Shanille was out snooping around the Writer’s Lodge yesterday,” said Harriet, studying her paw intently. “The place was crawling with cops, and next thing she knew an ambulance rode up and took away what looked like a corpse. She had to move upwind at some point, as the place was stinking to high heaven.” She wrinkled her nose. “Shanille said they found the body in the lodge’s poo-poo pit.”
“It’s true,” I confirmed. “They found the body of that writer that went missing last year. Paulo Frey, remember? He used to stay at the lodge at least once a year, to write his bestsellers, and last year vanished without a trace.”