“Whenever a celebrity dies there’s always a rash of these bogus claims,” said Chase. “Remember when Prince died? Over seven hundred people claimed to be his siblings.”
“I could have been Prince’s sister,” said Gran. “What?” she added when Odelia gave her a piercing look. “I’m not saying Iam his sister. Just saying Icould have been.”
“What makes you think you and Prince were related?” asked Chase, genuinely curious.
Promptly Gran lifted the leg of her colorful track pants to display a bony white calf.“Just look at my legs.”
Chase looked at Gran’s leg. “N-nice,” he said in a slightly choked voice.
“I should think so. These are some princely legs. I’ll bet Prince’s sister has legs just like these and so does his momma. And then of course I’ve got a voice just like Prince.”
“You do?” asked Chase.
“You don’t have to be beautiful. To turn me on,” the old lady began to sing in a reedy voice. It sounded nothing like Prince, but she was shaking that leg, and batting her eyelashes like a pro. A pro pole dancer, though, not a pro singer.
Chase suppressed a smile.“That’s pretty awesome, Mrs. Muffin,” he said finally.
“Just call me Vesta. I think it’s time we got on a first-name basis,” she cooed, placing a hand on Chase’s bicep while she recuperated from her impromptu dance routine.
Chase had the good decency to blush.“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Uncle Alec walked over, and Odelia was happy to see he came bearing gifts in the form of Aldo Wrenn—or Ackerman. The moment she and Gran had discovered Aldo was the seventh person Big Mac had identified, she’d shot off a message to her uncle. And a good thing, too, considering Aldo’s impromptu press conference had almost gotten out of hand.
“I think we better hold this conversation at the station, son,” said Alec.
“Why? What did I do?” asked Aldo.
“First off, you managed to disturb the peace. Second…” He nodded to Odelia. “You were seen at this here library last night, just before Chris Ackerman was killed. So I’m gonna want a statement from you about that.”
“That wasn’t me! I swear!”
Chapter 28
“Yeah, that was me,” said Aldo, sounding a lot less cocky than before. Then again, being dragged into a police station instead ofCBS This Morning will do that to a person.
Odelia watched on from the next room.
“I’m having d?j? vu,” said Gran. “It feels like we’ve been here before.”
“We’ve been here before,” said Odelia.
“How do people do this? Sit in that tiny room all day talking to dirtbags?”
“We don’t know if he’s a dirtbag yet.”
“He looks like a dirtbag.”
“With nice teeth.”
“With great teeth.”
“So why were you at the library last night?” asked Uncle Alec. Next to him, Chase was drumming his fingers on the table, scrutinizing this new addition to Chris Ackerman’s family.
“Look, I just wanted to talk to him, all right? I mean, can you blame me? I just found out he was my dad. I wanted to get to know the guy. Create a bond, you know.”
“You mean, go fishing together? Watch a ball game?”
“Yeah! Exactly!”
“So why does Angelique Ackerman swear up and down you’re not Chris’s son?”
“Of course she would say that. Especially now that my father is dead and she stands to inherit.”
“You know what I find weird about this?” said Chase. “That you waited to come forward until now. The day after your alleged father died. Doesn’t that strike you as odd, Chief?”
“It strikes me as extremely suspicious is what it strikes me as,” Alec agreed.
“I tried to get in touch with Chris before yesterday. In fact I tried to get in touch with him many times. He stonewalled me. Only wanted to connect through his lawyers. So I did. I patiently laid down the facts again and again. How Chris had an affair with my mom twenty-three years ago. How ninemonths later I was born. How my mom swears Chris was the father but never told me before because Chris had broken her heart and she didn’t want anything to do with him. And how she finally decided to come forward last year, when she was diagnosed with cancer and told she only had months to live.”
“So how is your mother now?” asked Uncle Alec.
“She’s fine. In remission.”
Chase was shaking his head and smiling. He obviously didn’t buy it.
“It’s all true!” cried Aldo. “Ask her. She’ll confirm everything. The affair, the pregnancy, the whole thing.” He leaned in. “Look, all I wanted was to meet my dad.”
“And did you? Meet him?”
Aldo looked away.“Yes, I did.”
“And? What did he say?”
“He said to get the hell out of there and never show my face again.” He clenched his jaw. “He said a lot of other stuff that I won’t repeat here. Suffice it to say it didn’t go well.”
“So you flew into a rage and plunged his fountain pen into his neck,” Chase supplied.
“No! Of course not. Why would I kill my own father? I told him I’d give him some time to think about it and I’d be in touch. He said that if I ever approached him again he’d get a restraining order. So I just left. But…”
“But what?” asked Uncle Alec.
“I did something I probably shouldn’t have.”
“You killed him.”
“No! How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t kill my father. I grabbed a hair from his cardigan and tucked it into my pocket. Then when I got to the hotel I put it in a plastic baggie and now I’m having it tested against one of my own for a DNA match.” He tapped the table with his finger. “Chris Ackerman was my father and I’m going to prove it.”
“Nasty business,” commented Gran.
“Angelique isn’t going to like it,” Odelia said.
“She’s going to blow her top is what she’s going to do.”
Odelia thought Gran was right. Just now that Angelique stood to inherit a nice chunk of change here came this kid who, if he was right, could throw a big wrench in the works.
“Do you think he’s our killer?” she asked.
“Nah. He looks too cute to be a killer.”
“I thought you said he looks like a dirtbag?”
“I changed my mind. I think he’s the real deal.”
Odelia had that impression as well. Still, it was plenty suspicious that Aldo would show up today and not sooner. Almost as if he’d been waiting for his father to die. Unless he was his father’s killer, and now he was here to claim his prize. Like inGame of Thrones, where chopping off a king’s head and then snatching his throne was the fashion du jour.
Not that Aldo had chopped off his father’s head. He may have made a start, though, by plunging in that pen.
“This case is getting more complicated by the minute. So many suspects!”
“Don’t complain. It’s better to have too many suspects than not enough.”
“But how do we know who did it?”
“Intuition, honey,” said Gran. “A real dick knows.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t use that word, Gran.”
“What, dick? What’s wrong with calling a spade a spade? I’m a private dick and so are you. We’re dicks together. Now if you could drive me home my shows are about to start and you know I can’t miss those, dick or no dick.”
Chapter 29
Tex Poole had just seen his last patient of the day and blew out a sigh of relief. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t feeling at his best after a long and sleepless night. First his wife’s Author of the Month evening had gone so horribly, terribly wrong, then they’d had to stick around while the police did their thing, and then once they’d arrived home Marge had been in no fit state to go to bed so they’d stayed up talking and sipping cups of chamomile tea, which was supposed to work wonders on a strained nervous system.
He’d have preferred to give his wife a Xanax or a Valium. Or a Klonopin or an Ativan. Or maybe something a little stronger. But Marge wasn’t one for popping pills. She preferred a more naturalistic approach. She believed in homeopathy, Bach Flower Remedies and aromatherapy. Every morning she did her yoga exercises, and from time to time she visited a reflexologist, a shiatsu guy and an acupuncturist. She’d recently even taken up mindfulness.