The fervor with which he spoke these words suddenly made Odelia suspect there was more than professional interest at play here.“You liked her, didn’t you?” she said.
He nodded, staring down into his drink.“She was a lot of fun to be around.”
“There’s a rumor going around that… Wolf and Dany were an item.”
Con didn’t look up, nor did he respond.
“And that she was blackmailing him?” she prodded.
He looked up, and she was surprised at the anger that flashed in his eyes.“She was too good for a guy like Wolf. Too sweet and too innocent. If only I’d known…” He abruptly stopped himself when he realized who he was talking to, then plastered a tight smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m boring you with my sad sack stories.”
“No, that’s all right. Do you think Wolf could have something to do with Dany’s death?”
He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly turned away and left her standing there.
“Well, it’s as good an answer as any, I guess,” she muttered to herself. It told her that she should probably look deeper into this affair between Wolf and Dany. She suddenly caught sight of Wolf’s assistant Kerry, who stood cuddling Wolf’s beloved Chihuahua. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and a slow smile crept up her face.
Yes. This was exactly the kind of assignment Max and Dooley would love.
Chapter 18
A tense hush had descended upon the house. Dooley and I were keeping Brutus company, even though I really didn’t want to choose sides on this one. Still, I could hardly leave the poor guy alone in this, his darkest hour. What I really wanted to do was attend cat choir and maybe sniff around the crime scene a bit more. You never know who else might have caught a glimpse of the killer. I mean, potentially a murder taking place in a park is seen by dozens of witnesses: the birds sitting in the tree overlooking the spot where the killer has chosen to plunge a knife into his hapless victim’s chest, a dog sniffing that same tree and contemplating making a small deposit, even the earthworms popping up for a bit of fresh air, or the moles taking a break from digging their holes—though the latter have notoriously bad eyesight and might not be the most reliable witnesses imaginable.
And then there were the aforementioned ducks quietly quacking away in the pond. Brutus had persuaded one duck to come forward and volunteer a formal witness statement, but perhaps there were other ducks—the quiet ones who rarely quacked—who’d seen more and could provide the telling clue. The mole on the killer’s nose. The harelip he carefully tried to hide beneath a bushy mustache. Or even the cleft chin that made him oh, so attractive to the opposite sex—a fact which will always puzzleme. Why are cleft chins so attractive to the human female? It’s a chin. With a cleft. Nothing special.
So there really was a lot of work to be done, and all I could do was sit there and babysit Brutus and nurse his wounded soul. Such a shame.
“Did you see the look on her face?” he said. “It spoke volumes.”
It did speak volumes. Volumes of verbal abuse.“It’s all those soap operas,” I repeated my favorite theory as to Harriet’s terrible temper. “If only she would watch more of the always pleasant Hallmark Channel, she might not be this unreasonable all the time.”
Brutus snapped his head up.“Harriet is not unreasonable. She’s the most reasonable feline in existence. In fact she’s put up with my horrible habits all this time, not a whisper of annoyance crossing her lips.”
I’d heard plenty of whispers of annoyance pass Harriet’s lips—in fact they weren’t whispers but more fully formed sentences, very eloquently and colorfully expressed. I wasn’t going to play devil’s advocate right now, though, so I wisely shut up. If Brutus wanted to believe Harriet was an angel sent by the heavens to walk this sacred earth, so be it.
“She used to call me all these wonderful names. Tootsie roll. Snuggle bunny. Twinkle toes. Baby boo. And now all she can say is what a cad I’ve been—and she’s right!” he wailed.
He was sitting slumped on the couch, his paws sticking out, his otherwise shiny black fur unkempt and looking dull in spots. In fact he looked like the epitome of the jilted male. Which he was. Only he’d jilted her first, if we were going to split hairs.
“Did you know that the spiny dogfish shark’s pregnancy lasts two years?” asked Dooley, who was watching the Discovery Channel, which was playing quietly in the background.
“No, I didn’t know that,” I said.
Silence reigned for a moment.
“Did you know unborn sharks sometimes eat their siblings?”
I groaned softly.
“And that sharks can have up to 35,000 teeth in their lifetime? Imagine being a shark dentist! Ha ha.”
“Ha ha,” I said without enthusiasm.
Once again, silence hung heavy in Odelia’s small salon. Except for the shark show which apparently was on.
“Did you know—”
“Dooley! Enough with the sharks already!”
Silence returned, with Dooley looking offended.
“Max?” asked Brutus at length.
“Mh?”
“Could you give Harriet a message? I know she won’t listen to me, but maybe she’ll listen to you.”
I was about to graciously say no to this idea when I figured that the sooner Harriet and Brutus reconciled, the sooner the four of us could be out there hunting for clues again.
“Fine,” I said therefore. “What do you want me to tell her?”
“Tell her…” He frowned, then directed a curious glance at me. “What do you think I should tell her?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I exclaimed. “How should I know? She’s your girlfriend!”
“Yes, but you’ve known her all her life. You know what might swing the deal.”
I rolled my eyes. I’m not your poetic type, so I had no idea what to tell a jilted woman who’s decided to jilt her boyfriend in return.
“Tell her you’re slowly pining away in remorseful sorrow,” suddenly Dooley said.
We both stared at him. It made for a nice change from the shark trivia.
“And tell her that soon there will be nothing left but a greasy spot on the couch.”
Brutus pursed his lips.“I’m not sure I like it, but it is very powerful. Especially that part about the greasy spot. Max,” he said, making a swift decision, “go for it, buddy.”
“Oh, all right,” I said, dragging myself up from my comfortable position on the couch.
I slouched to the kitchen door, shuffled through the pet flap, slumped through the backyard, wormed myself through the hole in the hedge, shambled through Marge and Tex’s backyard, shoved myself through the second cat flap and crawled into the house and into the family room. No sign of sharks there. Instead, a rerun ofScandal was on, and the president was getting a tongue-lashing from his chief of staff. Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well.
“Harriet,” I said, arriving at the foot of the couch that held Gran, Marge, Tex and Harriet, all lined up like so many statues, eagerly following the exploits ofScandal’s not-so-monogamous president.
“What do you want?” Harriet grunted.
“Message from Brutus,” I said, hoping this would attract her attention.
“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” she said, making her meaning perfectly clear by flashing a shiny claw.
I gulped. I may have a layer of fat to protect me from claws like that, but I’m not immune to pain. In fact I hate it.
“Oh, just hear the cat out,” said Gran.
“What is he saying?” asked Tex.
“He says he has a message from Brutus,” said Marge.
“Let’s hear it,” said Gran. “And be quick about it. Something’s about to happen with Twisty Fitzy and I don’t want to miss it.”
“We saw this episode already, Mom,” said Marge.
“I know. But I’ve forgotten. And don’t you remind me!”
“Brutus says he’s in…” Dang. Now I couldn’t remember what it was Brutus wanted me to say. So I decided to do what all good actors do: wing it!