“You heard Chase. There’s a wonky window near the back,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to sneak in that way.”
Chase had parked his car inside the Whitmore Manor domain. Clearly security left something to be desired, judging from the front gate which had been left wide open, and not a single guard placed at the entrance to halt our access to the manor. He’d parked under a big oak tree, to provide himself some measure of cover, and for them the long wait began. For us, the long trek through the manor began, in search of this illustrious Chihuahua.
Dooley and I quickly moved ahead, Harriet and Brutus trailing behind. At a certain point I heard Brutus exclaim,“It was a matter of perspective!” and I shook my head.
“Brutus really is in the doghouse, isn’t he?” Dooley said.
“Or the cathouse, depending on your perspective,” I said, and we both giggled like two silly kittens. Even though Brutus and Harriet might take this thing bloody seriously—literally—that didn’t mean Dooley and I couldn’t extract some merriment from the episode.
We found the window just where Chase had said it was, and snuck into the manor through the crack—dropping gracefully to the cement floor below. It was pretty dusty and dank-smelling in the basement, but then basements usually are.
Odelia had told me Langdon’s bedroom was on the third floor, the last room on the left, so that was our destination. We snuck through the basement, which was just a collection of old furniture covered in white sheets gathering dust, snuck up the stairs, through a long corridor, and up more stairs, these ones marble instead of rickety wood.
Upstairs, we heard laughter and singing coming from one of the rooms, and I quickly snuck a peek. Four or five people were smoking something that had an acrid tinge to it that wasn’t tobacco, and drinking a substance that wasn’t lemonade. They looked as if they were having a whale of a time. They were also partly naked, so I quickly retreated. I’d been forced to witness enough human nookie for one day thank you very much.
The third floor proved more quiet and peaceful than the second, which was a good sign.
“I’m not sure about this, Max,” Dooley said as we tiptoed underneath the portrait of a dour-looking man dressed in a hunter’s outfit. Dogs were converging on a deer, and I felt for the poor deer.
“I’m not too sure about this either,” I admitted. It was all well and good to describe this Chihuahua as a sweetheart and a cutie pie, but dogs are a treacherous breed. They can be sweet and cute one minute, then viciously turn on you the next. I was going to keep my options open and make sure I had my route of escape mapped out just in case.
“Do you think Brutus and Harriet got lost?” he asked as we paused to listen for sounds of human activity.
I glanced back to the stairs. There was no sign of either one of our two friends.
“I just hope they haven’t killed each other,” I said with a twinge of concern. That slash across the nose was still fresh in my mind, and the thought rankled.
“Maybe we should turn back,” said Dooley, glancing up at yet another hunting print, this one depicting a brace of dogs tearing into a poor rabbit. It was definitely a bad omen.
“We need to press on,” I told Dooley. “Odelia expects us to talk to this dog, so we need to talk to this dog.”
We moved along the corridor, which was all dark paneled walls and oak parquet covered with a long and high-pile runner our paws sank into. The smell was musty, either from the smokers on the second floor, or the natural smell of an old manor.
We finally arrived at the last door on the left, and to my relief it was ajar. Cats, as you may or may not know, have a hard time opening doors. At least when they operate on a knob principle. Tough to turn a knob when all you have are soft pink pads, fur and claws.
We snuck into the room, careful not to make a sound. From inside, snoring drifted our way. And as we moved deeper into the room, a peaceful scene greeted us: there, in the middle of the room, a man was sleeping in a big four-poster bed, a dog draped across his feet. A night light had been left on, bathing the Hallmark-type scene in a soft golden hue.
“Aww,” I said.
“How sweet,” Dooley echoed.
At this, the doggie pricked up its ears, then sniffed the air, and finally spotted us.
He made a soft gulping sound, then abruptly jumped down from the bed and scooted behind the nightstand.
So much for the rabid, cat-devouring monster we’d been dreading to encounter.
Chapter 22
Odelia was getting tired of sitting in a car waiting for a bunch of party people to finally go to bed. Not that she minded being cooped up in a small space with Chase—far from it—but she had another big day tomorrow, and she was one of those people who, when they didn’t get enough sleep, were complete and utter wrecks the next day.
“When are they finally going to bed?” she grumbled, when she saw that in one room the lights were still on. “Don’t they need to sleep?”
“They’re young. They’re free. And they probably want to get through the bag of weed Wolf provided—or maybe it was Conway Kemp. The stories tend to differ depending on the source.”
“Weed? And you approve of this?
“Hey, as long as the politicians don’t make up their minds, I’m not touching that.”
“Is that what you and Miss Blonde talked about?”
“She did ask about the laws in the state of New York regarding the recreational use of marihuana,” he said with a grin.
“And what did you tell her?”
“That marijuana is still illegal except for medical use on a strictly regulated basis. But that you won’t get arrested for smoking in public unless you’re driving a car or have a criminal record—at most you can expect a fine these days.”
“Which you’re not going to give them.”
He shrugged.“I’ve got my orders, babe. Stuff is above my pay grade.”
“Sounds like a pretty lame excuse to me.”
He laughed.“I take it you’re not a big fan of weed.”
No, she wasn’t, but that was not an argument she was prepared to get into right now. “What else did you talk about?”
“Well, about the affair Wolf and Dany were reportedly having.”
“Nothing reportedly about it. Looks like everyone knew about it, except me.”
“And Wolf’s wife. Until not so long ago she was in the dark, too.”
“So where is Mrs. Langdon?”
“Staying in town at the Star.”
The Hampton Cove Star was a boutique hotel located right on Main Street.“The Star? Why not at the manor?”
“She was at the manor at first, but my guess is that she got tired of having to watch her husband getting frisky with Dany so she relocated to the Star.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”
“Oh, someone’s been a busy boy.”
“Your uncle did urge us to handle this murder business quickly and with the utmost expedience so that’s what I’m doing.”
“And? What did Mrs. Langdon have to say?”
“She didn’t exactly burst into tears when I told her about what happened to Dany.”
“Which is understandable.”
“Exactly. She admitted she’d heard the rumors, too, and that’s why she moved to the Star. She also said she was considering divorcing Wolf, and she happened to mention that Wolf was not in a situation where he could afford a divorce. It’s my understanding Mrs. Langdon is the source of much of Wolf’s wealth. Her family is extremely well-off. He isn’t.”
“Do you think she might be responsible for Dany’s death?”
“Nuh-uh. She was having lunch with a friend when Dany was killed. About a dozen guests and waitstaff can attest to that.”
“Too bad. She would have been the perfect killer.”
“Looks like we’re up,” said Chase, gesturing to the window where now the light had finally been extinguished.
“Finally. I thought they’d never go to bed.”
They got out of the car and moved stealthily towards the manor, hunched over and staying in the shadows. There was a full moon out, so they’d have to be careful not to be seen.