“Nothing alleged about it,” said Odelia. “Camille Kirby is dead and Jeb was practically covered in her blood, the murder weapon lying next to him on the bed, his prints all over it.” She was shaking her head. “I find this very hard to believe. How could he…” Her voice caught and she haltingly said, in a strange, wobbly tone, “I took his side, you know. In the divorce circus? I thought she was lying. And now this.”
I shook my head sadly. Human drama. It never fails to grip. It’s just so much more poignant than feline drama, don’t you think? Just look at all the soap operas. Or have you ever seen a soap about cats pulling each other’s hair? Then again, cats don’t often buy soap, so daytime TV doesn’t have that much of an incentive to target them as their audience.
Chase’s pickup pulled off the road and stopped in front of a wooden gate. A cop was parked in front of it, and when he saw Chase he held up his hand in greeting and used a button on a keypad next to the gate. He spoke into the intercom and the gate swung open.
Outside the gate, a dozen news vans were parked, with two dozen reporters, camera crew and photographers trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening beyond that gate.
When we arrived and were waved through, they started snapping pictures of Odelia and Chase and even me and Dooley. I grinned.“There are going to be a lot of editors in a lot of newsrooms across the country wondering what two cats are doing visiting the crime scene of one of the world’s most famous actors.”
“They’re probably also wondering why I’m the only reporter allowed to enter the place,” said Odelia, who didn’t seem to enjoy being photographed by her colleagues as much as I’d expected. Then again, Odelia is not used to being at the center of attention. Usually she’s the one out there, snapping pictures of the stars driving by in their limos.
“At least you didn’t bring the kittens along,” said Dooley, harping on the same theme that had occupied his mind from the moment we’d left the house.
“They’re too young to travel,” said Odelia absentmindedly as she slipped her car into a parking spot, then unfastened her seatbelt and turned to us. “So you know what to do, right?”
“Relax,” I said. “We’re old paws at this by now.”
“Old paws,” said Dooley, chuckling. “Funny.”
Odelia smiled.“Great. Go get them, boys.”
Our task, if we chose to accept it, which we did, was to gather background information, and talk to any creature that might have seen something, heard something, sniffed something, or generally had information and a unique perspective to impart. It provided Odelia with those telling details that made her stories so vivid and unique.
So we set off in the direction of the lodge that was the hub of activity, crime scene people and cops buzzing about like so many flies, and vowed to make Odelia proud.
Chapter 5
It was with a heavy heart that Odelia took out her notebook. Normally she loved reporting on crime and spinning an entertaining yarn for her readers, but this particular case had struck close to home. She’d been a fan of Jeb’s for as long as she could remember, and this murder suddenly painted her hero in a very unfavorable light indeed. Could it be that Jeb wasn’t the quirky, talented actor she’d come to adore but a murdering psychopath instead?
Uncle Alec came walking out of the small lodge. He looked stricken, and held up a meaty paw when he saw her.“Better don’t go in there, honey. It’s not a pretty sight.”
She nodded.“Where is Jeb?”
“We took him away already. He’s cooling his heels in the lockup.”
“Are you sure he did it?” she asked. It was the question that had been at the forefront of her mind ever since Chase had delivered the shocking news.
“No doubt about it,” her uncle grumbled with a sad look on his hangdog face. At fifty-four, Alec Lip’s face displayed the mileage he’d racked up as the town’s chief of police and then some. His wispy gray hair was plastered to his skull as usual, and he hadn’t shaved yet, probably having been called out of bed and having driven straight there.
“And is it… Camilla Kirby?”
He nodded dourly.“No doubt about that, either. She has so many stab wounds it looks like Jeb must have been in a murderous frenzy.” He shook his head again. “Terrible business. Just terrible,” he muttered.
“Maybe someone else did it and is trying to put the blame on Jeb?”
Her uncle gave her a skeptical look.“The knife was right next to him on the bed, his prints all over it. Her blood on his hands and clothes. Almost as if he’d been bathing in it. We even found her blood in his ears. I’m sorry, honey, but Jeb Pott is guilty as hell.”
“But what was Camilla doing out here? I thought they were divorced.”
“They were. All we know for certain right now is that she took a flight out here from LA late last night, then took a taxi here. She arrived at exactly…” He took out his notebook. “Three forty-five.”
“Middle of the night.”
“Uh-huh. The taxi driver told me he warned her about getting out of his cab in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere but she was unconcerned. Giddy, even, according to his statement. As if she couldn’t wait to meet…”
“Jeb,” said Odelia quietly. “So who else lives here?”
“Place belongs to Jeb’s other ex-wife. Helena Grace. She’s lived here with their daughter Fae for the past fifteen years.”
“It’s the house Jeb bought when he and Helena moved here from Rome.”
“Is that right?” said Uncle Alec, looking amused at being upstaged.
“Jeb and Helena met twenty-five years ago in Italy. He was filming a movie out there and she had a small part. She played his nurse, tasked with nursing him back to health after his fighter jet was shot down by the Germans. It was a World War II drama.”
“Right,” he said. “Anyway, the front gate can only be opened either from the main house, where Helena and her daughter live, or from the lodge, where Jeb was staying.”
“So Camilla arrived at the gate, Jeb let her in and…”
“Killed her, yeah. Must have happened soon after she arrived. Abe puts time of death around four o’clock.”
“Who called it in?” she asked as she surveyed the frenzied scene. A stretcher was now being carried out, and she turned away her head. She might be there to report on a crime but that didn’t mean she reveled in this kind of death and mayhem. She could write a good article without mentioning all the gore other reporters seemed to salivate over.
“That’s the weirdest thing,” said Uncle Alec, scratching his scalp with his pencil. “Anonymous phone call. Neighbor walking his dog at the time of the murder. Said he heard a scream and took a closer look. Said he saw a man attacking a woman. So he called it in.”
“No idea who the witness is?”
“No idea. Which isn’t unusual,” he hastened to say when he saw her skeptical expression. “Some people just don’t want to get involved in anything to do with the police.”
“So he actually saw the murder—actually saw Jeb murder his ex-wife?”
“Uh-huh.” He groped around for his reading glasses. “Where are the darn things?” he grumbled. Odelia plucked them from the top of his head where he’d just put them and he gave her a grateful grin. “Thanks, hon.” He frowned at his notes. “Here it is. Caller said he heard a woman scream bloody murder. Said a man who looked like Jeb Pott attacked her.”
“So there’s a witness to the murder,” she said, deflating. She’d hoped against hope that Jeb was innocent, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was guilty.
“I’d be more satisfied if I could talk to this witness, of course,” said Uncle Alec. “But with all the evidence we have right now there’s no doubt Jeb Pott will be convicted of murdering his ex-wife in cold blood.” He lowered his voice. “We also found a ton of cocaine in the house, along with at least a dozen other illegal substances and crates full of hard liquor and booze. If all this stuff shows up on Jeb’s tox screen the guy was high as a kite when he did what he did. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing.”