“Nobody asked you, Dooley,” Harriet snapped.
Dooley looked confused.“But I thought you said—”
“Never mind what I said! Eitherthey go, or I go. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, and the others murmured their agreement. Harriet had made herself so clear, in fact, that I had a feeling she was going to be sorely disappointed when Odelia told her it was her way or the highway. And why wouldn’t she? This was Odelia’s house, after all. Us cats might think we are in charge, but at the end of the day we simply aren’t.
The kittens must have spotted Harriet, for they now came walking up to her, still a little faltering in their step.
“Don’t you dare,” she said in a voice that shook with indignation.
The kittens stared, clearly never having seen anything like her before.
“This fur is perfect, not a blemish. And if you so much as think about touching me… hey!”
The kittens hadn’t merely thought about touching her—they’d gone and done it. More, they’d jumped on top of Harriet and were now using her for trampoline practice.
“Yay, yay, yay,” they were singing as they hopped up and down.
“No! Get off! Go away! You can’t—Brutus! Do something!” Harriet cried.
Brutus jumped into the fray, but to no avail. Like fleas, the kittens jumped from Harriet to Brutus and back, having a whale of a time.
“Come here, you little…” Brutus was growling, but even his foulest glare or deepest growl couldn’t stop the cats from running rings around him and Harriet.
And as I watched on, I said,“Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day.”
“No, you definitely don’t,” Dooley agreed.
Chapter 12
Odelia walked into the police station, her grandmother right on her heels, and immediately recognized in the diminutive figure of the fair-haired woman who sat on a chair in the waiting room the famous actress who’d been Jeb’s first wife and loyal partner for twenty-five years, until he traded her in for a younger model in the form of Camilla. Next to Helena sat her lookalike daughter Fae. Both women got up when Odelia approached.
“So you must be Odelia,” said Helena as she pressed Odelia’s hand. “Fae told me what she did.”
“Mom wasn’t happy about it at first,” Fae explained, “but she quickly warmed to the idea when she realized Dad could be in jail for the rest of his life.”
“Jeb can’t be in jail. He just can’t. He’s so sensitive. Jail will crush his soul.”
“I understand,” said Odelia. “The thing is, and I’m going to be totally upfront with you—I’m still not entirely convinced Jeb didn’t do this.”
Fae rolled her eyes.“Oh, please. Haven’t you listened to a word I said? Dad isn’t like that. He’s not a killer.”
“He was pretty doped up,” Gran remarked in that subtle way of hers.
Both women turned to her.“And who are you?” asked Fae frostily.
“My name is Vesta Muffin and I’m a flogger,” said Gran, extending her wrinkly, bony hand. “And I’m here to tell you that I’m gonna fight for your cause until my dying breath.”
Helena eyed Gran uncertainly.“I thought you said you don’t believe in our cause?”
“If you want to know what I think,” said Gran, warming to her subject, “it’s that your precious Jeb was high as a kite when suddenly this bimbo who’d been suing him for his last cent shows up at his door. So, being baked out of his skull on coke and meth and whatnot, he grabs a knife and stabs her to death in a frenzy the likes of which this country hasn’t seen since Charlie Manson and his merry band of whacked-out psychos. Then he zonked out and when he woke up he didn’t remember a thing. That’s what I think happened.”
“Dad would never do that,” said Fae, tears springing to her eyes. “He would never kill anyone, drugs or no drugs.”
“Ah, but you gotta admit he was tripping,” Gran pointed out. “Now this is what you need to tell Jeb’s lawyers. They can plead temporary insanity and blame it all on Jeb’s drug dealer, whoever he is. He’s the one they should put in jail for murder. He’s the one who killed that poor woman, not Jeb, who’s just another victim in this case.”
“Right,” said Odelia, giving her grandmother another nudge.
“Stop poking me!” Gran said. “I’m sensitive on account of the fact that I’m slim.”
Odelia gave Helena and her daughter an apologetic smile.“Don’t listen to my grandmother. She watches a lot of soap operas.”
Uncle Alec appeared and waved them over.“Better be quick about this, all right?” he said. “Five minutes and that’s it. No extensions.”
Odelia nodded and braced herself for her first encounter with the fallen superstar. The deal was that Helena and Fae had visitation rights, and Odelia would accompany them as their legal advisor, even though she didn’t possess a legal bone in her body. Gran was tagging along as Odelia’s plus-one, which, if anyone asked, was a tenable proposition at best.
They were led into the interview room, where Jeb Pott sat with his hands shackled to the table, head down. When they entered, he looked up. Seeing Helena and Fae, suddenly tears appeared in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.“Helena. Fae. Darlings. I didn’t do this,” he said in husky tones. “You have to believe me.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Pott, that you were passed out in a drug-induced coma and don’t remember a thing?” asked Gran.
“Yes, but…”
“And isn’t it also true that you were found covered in your victim’s blood and with the murder weapon next to you?”
“Yes, but I…”
“And isn’t it also true,” said Gran, raising her voice, “that you invited the poor woman to your lodge in the dead of night with the express purpose of luring her to her death?” She slammed the table. “Confess now, young man, and we can still make a deal!”
“Who the hell are you?!” Jeb cried.
“She’s my grandmother,” said Odelia, mortified.
Jeb directed his watery eyes on Odelia.“And who are you?”
“Odelia Poole—private detective,” said Fae proudly, placing her hand on her dad’s. “I hired her to clear your name, Daddy. She’s going to work hard to get you out of here.”
“Uh-huh,” said Jeb, who seemed more confused and rattled than when he played The Prisoner of Zenda in the movie with the same name.
“I just have one question for you, Mr. Pott,” said Odelia. “Did you send those texts inviting Camilla Kirby to meet you at the lodge?”
“No, of course not. Why would I want to meet that woman after what she did to me? She destroyed my life, my career—she took great pleasure turning the whole world against me and destroying everything I worked years to accomplish. And what I was most upset about,” he added, softening, “is that she hurt the two people I care about most in this world: you, my darling Fae, and you, Helena. And I’m truly sorry about that.”
“You do realize that accusing your ex-wife only builds a stronger case against you, don’t you, sonny boy?” asked Gran, scowling and poking a crooked finger in his direction.
“Gran, please,” said Odelia. “You’re not working for the prosecution, you’re working for the defense, remember?”
Gran frowned.“I don’t get it.”
Odelia decided to put it in terms her grandmother would understand.“You’re Perry Mason, not Hamilton Burger.”
A sly smile crept up Gran’s face. “Right, right.”
“More to the point, you’re a vlogger helping me on a case. So you’re really Paul Drake, and I am Perry Mason. Though since I’m not a lawyer but a private detective, I’m actually more like Thomas Magnum and you’re either Rick or TC. Your choice.”
Gran sat down.“I’m confused,” she declared. “This legal mumbo-jumbo sounds a lot easier on TV than in real life.”