The only one who didn’t care for the new winter activities was Chief Alec, who now had to round up drunk revelers all year, and not just during the summer.
“So? Got yourself a genuine murder case, huh?” Dan asked, leaning against the doorjamb. He was sipping from his umpteenth cup of coffee and looked genuinely excited, as excited as she was feeling herself. He was a shortish man in his late sixties, with an impressive white beard and plenty of laugh wrinkles around his eyes, which always seemed to twinkle with delight.
“Yup. This is the big one, Dan. Famous bestselling writer gets whacked and dumped in the can. This is going to get national headlines, I’m sure.”
“Do they have a suspect?” asked the veteran editor.
“Not yet. Uncle Alec is putting Chase Kingsley in charge.”
This caused the editor’s bushy brows to wiggle with surprise. “Chase Kingsley? The new guy?”
“Yeah, he’s supposed to be this hotshot detective from New York. Apparently he used to work for the NYPD, so he’s well qualified.”
“Used to work being the operative word,” said the editor.
She stared at him.“What do you mean?”
All she knew about the guy was that he had an annoying cat, and that he seemed to hate reporters. Or it could be that he just hated her, of course.
Dan looked over his shoulder, as if fully expecting Detective Kingsley to have walked into the office to eavesdrop on their private conversation.
“What I’ve heard is that Chase Kingsley didn’t quit the NYPD but was forced out.” He lowered his brows and grumbled in a low voice, “Fired for gross misconduct is what I heard. Molestation of a suspect’s wife.”
“Molestation!” she cried, her jaw dropping. “No way!”
He shook his head sadly.“All I know is what was printed in thePost.”
“ThePost?” she asked, reaching for her laptop. This she had to see.
“Stacy Brown got it from Lora Escort, who read it in the paper a couple of months ago and remembered the name. I doubt that Alec even knows about this, otherwise he probably would never have hired him in the first place.” His voice took on a grave tone. “If the rumors are true he actually molested the wife of a suspect while the guy was in custody, and she pressed charges against him, apparently not too keen on being manhandled by a cop.”
She stared at the editor, fully aghast.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dan shrugged.“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“But why would Uncle Alec hire a guy like that?”
“Like I said, he probably doesn’t even know about it.”
“That’s impossible. Nobody hires a cop without checking his credentials.”
“Maybe he lied on his resume.”
“I find it hard to believe Uncle Alec wouldn’t check his references. The NYPD is only a phone call away. No, I’m sure he knows about Chase Kingsley’s past and simply chose to ignore it.” She frowned. “But why?”
“Beats me. I just know that that uncle of yours has got a really big heart, Odelia. Maybe he felt sorry for the guy? Hell, I’m not saying he’s not a good cop. Everyone seems to agree he was one hell of a detective. But with a thing like that hanging over his head, his chances of ever working as a cop again were slim to nonexistent.”
“Except in Hampton Cove.” If she hadn’t been furious with him before, she was furious now. Molestation charges were not to be taken lightly.
“Except in Hampton Cove, apparently,” Dan agreed with a nod.
“I have to talk to Uncle Alec about this. We can’t have a man like that working for the HCPD. Especially with the entire town knowing about his sordid past. How can he expect to assume a position of authority?”
“Well, we don’t know if the allegations are true, Odelia. For all we know the charges were unfounded and he was forced out anyway.”
“I don’t think the NYPD would let him go if the charges were unfounded,” she argued. “No, this is serious stuff, Dan. If this is true, we can’t have a man like that working as a police officer in our town.”
“You better have that talk with your Uncle Alec. Thresh this thing out once and for all.” He grinned at her. “So now you’ve got yourself two stories to dig into, huh? A murder and a bad cop. This is your lucky day, honey.”
Chapter 7
Ten minutes later, she waltzed into her dad’s medical practice again, and walked straight up to the desk. Gran, who’d been playing Scrabble online, eyed her disapprovingly. She didn’t like being interrupted when she was on a winning streak. “I told you. I’m fine. It was just a stomach bug. I’m all right.”
“Good to know,” she said, panting slightly. “Is Rohanna still here?”
Gran raised her eyebrows, then gestured with her head to one of the examination rooms.“In there. What do you want with her?”
Odelia dropped her voice to a whisper.“There’s been a murder, and I’m writing the story. Remember that writer who disappeared last year?”
“That nutcase?” asked Gran, making no effort to lower her voice.
“Yeah, that nutcase,” she whispered. “Well, he didn’t disappear. He was murdered. They just dredged up his body from the Writer’s Lodge outhouse.”
“You don’t say,” said Gran, licking her lips with obvious glee. “And you think Rohanna did it?”
“No, I don’t. But I remember she also works for Hetta, keeping the Writer’s Lodge clean. So I just figured she might be a good place to start my investigation. Maybe she saw something or remembers something.”
“I highly doubt it,” said Gran, pursing her lips. “The woman is batty.”
“Why do you think she’s batty?” she asked after a pause. Gran sometimes had a habit of judging people too harshly, and being very vocal about it.
“Because she keeps singing to herself, that’s why. I caught her at it a couple of times.” She leaned closer, but still spoke loud enough so that everyone in the waiting room could hear her. “She sings to herself and wiggles that enormous butt of hers while she works. Can you believe it?”
Odelia smiled.“Plenty of people sing while they work, Gran.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“It’s because you have to answer the phone, and talk to people. Rohanna listens to music and sings along just to make the work go faster.”
“I’m telling you, the woman is batty. Either you work, or you shake your ass. You can’t do both, unless you’re an exotic dancer, and trust me, no one is going to pay good money to watch Rohanna Coral strip and hug a pole.”
“Gran!”
“What? It’s true.”
Shaking her head, Odelia went in search of Rohanna. She checked examination room number two, which served as a backup in case Dad’s workload became too much, and he called in the assistance of a colleague from one of the neighboring towns. She found Rohanna, earbuds in her ears, softly humming along with the music, shaking her tush, just like Gran said.
She was a large woman, and had a considerable tush to shake around, that was true enough, though Odelia didn’t see anything wrong with a woman enjoying her work. She tried to catch Rohanna’s attention, and finally walked up to her and gave her a tap on the shoulder. Rohanna removed the earbuds and eyed her askance, as if to say, ‘Whaddya want?’
“Hey, Rohanna,” she said. “Sorry to trouble you, but could I ask you a couple of questions about Paulo Frey and the Writer’s Lodge?”
If the name was familiar to the cleaning lady, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she frowned and asked, “Who?”
“Paulo Frey? He was one of the writers who used to stay at the Writer’s Lodge. One of the regulars. He disappeared last year.”
Her frown deepened. It was obvious she didn’t like to be interrupted while working. Or perhaps her favorite song had been on, and she hated to miss the opportunity to sing along. “I remember him,” she finally said. “Isn’t he the skinny one who writes those gruesome thrillers?”
“He was a thriller writer,” she confirmed. Whether he was skinny was up for debate. Judging from the pictures she’d googled he looked pretty average.