“I got that. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m a feline sleuth,” I said. “My friends and I are trying to figure out who killed—”
But she was quick to stop me by placing a paw on my face and effectively interrupting my flow of words.“Let’s not waste time by flapping our gums,” she said in a sexily hoarse voice. “Our eyes met in the crowd. You followed me. I think we both feel it.”
“Feel… what, exactly?”
“Oh, Max,” she cooed. “You know.”
“Know what?”
“Oh, Max,” she repeated, then proceeded to give me a head bump.
“Um…”
To my surprise, she suddenly turned and started smelling my butt!
What happened next is one of those things you tell your grandkids about on those long winter evenings when there’s nothing on TV. It all went so fast it was over before I knew it. She pressed her nose against my butt, and in a reflex action I folded down my tail to protect this most sensitive area and effectively shielded it off from her inquisitive sniffing. Call me a prude but I don’t usually allow strange females to sniff around down there.
She didn’t take it well. A dark look came over her face, she produced a loud hissing sound, and before I knew it she’d given me a kick that send me skipping across the roof.
And then I was going over the edge, plunging headfirst into the abyss…
Chapter 35
Odelia was impressed by the high ceilings, the intricate molding, the crystal chandeliers and the parquet floor. She was even more impressed when finally the man they’d come here to meet graced them with his presence. Malcolm Buckerfield was a large man, both in length and girth. He was also a man who had no qualms about showing off his facial hair. Apart from a russet mustache he also sported a perfectly landscaped white beard, a white buzzcut covering a bullet-shaped head and thick black eyebrows. Taken together, practically the full acreage of his head was covered with some type of fur, leaving only his cheekbones, eyes and brow without the benefit of coverage.
“Detective Kingsley,” boomed the man in a deep voice. “Miss Poole. Thanks for coming all the way out here to Avalon.”
“Avalon?” asked Chase. “Like King Arthur?”
“Myes,” said the publisher. “I like to grace every residence I stay at with the moniker Avalon. Like Air Force One, which is only called Air Force One when the President is aboard.”
“Oh,” said Chase.
“So what can I do for you?”
They’d taken a seat in the salon, Odelia nervous about her shoes soiling the Persian rug and her bottom creasing the green velvet sofa cover. It was like being granted an audience with the Queen of England at Buckingham Palace. Or King Arthur at Avalon.
“You were Chris Ackerman’s publisher for thirty years,” said Chase.
“I was, yes,” Buckerfield acknowledged. “I was very sorry to hear about his death. He was a great writer and a good friend.”
“He recently indicated he was changing publishers,” Chase continued.
“He was.”
“You weren’t happy about that.”
“I wasn’t. He was my most popular author.”
“Is that why you visited him two nights ago at the Hampton Cove library where he was holding a reading of his latest novel?”
Buckerfield’s eyes flickered beneath those black brows. “How did you—” He gestured with a beringed hand. “No matter. Yes, I did show up at the library. I wanted to give him one final chance to change his mind.”
“You made him a very generous offer,” said Odelia. “A ten-book contract.”
The publisher nodded.“He said he’d think about it.”
“He didn’t summarily refuse your offer?”
The publisher shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.“No, he did not. Chris and I have known each other a very long time. I published his first novel. I effectively discovered him and gave him his first chance when no one else would. He was simply playing hardball. Up the ante and get a higher advance for his next series of books. That was all thiswas.”
“Are you sure about that?” asked Chase. “Isn’t it true that Chris was having an affair with Stacey Kulcheski, who now works as an editor for Franklin Cooper? And isn’t that the main reason he was changing publishers? On the instigation of his new girlfriend?”
Buckerfield bridled.“Nonsense. Chris would never allow his personal life to interfere with his business affairs. Like I said, this was simply a negotiation technique.”
“And it worked,” said Odelia.
“Ostensibly it did,” the publisher agreed. “I never believed for one minute he was leaving us. We have an entire team devoted to Chris. He had no reason to look elsewhere.”
“So you didn’t get into a fight with him and kill him?” asked Chase, cocking an eyebrow.
“Certainly not! How ridiculous. Chris and I were old friends. I would never hurt him.”
His statement didn’t strike Odelia as duplicitous. In fact he seemed shocked at the accusation he killed his friend. She decided to try a different tack. “Angelique and Trey Ackerman claim they saw you at the library. They were leaving as you arrived. Is this true?”
Buckerfield nodded.“Yes, it is. I was surprised to see them, to be honest. Chris had made no secret that he’d started divorce proceedings.”
“So he was serious about his affair with Miss Kulcheski,” said Chase.
“He was. Deadly serious. Pardon me,” he quickly added, realizing the insensitivity of his choice of words. “Chris and Angelique’s marriage was in trouble long before Chris met Stacey. So it didn’t come as a great surprise when he told me what was going on. Angelique didn’t take it well,and neither did Trey, who’d chosen to side with his mother and resented his father a great deal. It pained Chris but there was nothing he could do about it. The heart wants what it wants.” He gave them a sad smile. “And to think I introduced Chris and Stacey at BookExpo America last year. BookExpo America is the largest book fair in the States. I could see Chris and Stacey hit it off immediately. Never in my wildest dreams could I have foreseen it would lead to this.” He touched the silk scarf around his neck and tugged it thoughtfully. “You’ll probably think it’s very insensitive of me to organize this party.”
“The thought had occurred to us,” Chase said with a nod of the head.
“I planned this months ago. Impossible to call it off. Only now I’ll dedicate the gathering to Chris. I’ve prepared a commemorative speech. A eulogy if you will.” He unearthed a folded up piece of paper from his vest pocket and fumbled with it for a moment before returning it. “I’m going to miss Chris. He really was a good friend.”
“One more question,” said Chase. “Do you remember seeing Rockwell Burke? He says he left as you arrived.”
Buckerfield grimaced.“I do. I told him not to leave. He’d promised to moderate the event and I thought it cowardly of him not to go through with it. He seemed to have made up his mind, though. Said he didn’t want to be accused of selling out by making nice with Chris Ackerman, who he seemed to consider his mortalenemy.”
“And when you arrived Chris Ackerman was still alive,” said Odelia musingly.
“And so he was when I left,” Buckerfield insisted. He glanced at his watch. “And now if you’ll excuse me. I really have to attend to my guests. If you want to stay, please do.” He waited for a moment, and when Chase nodded his assent, he gratefully rose to his feet and walked out with surprising alacrity and grace for a man of his substantial bulk.
“So what do you think?” asked Chase.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” said Odelia.
“I think so, too. Which means…”
“Angelique and Trey Ackerman are off the hook, and so is Rockwell Burke.”
“Now if only we could determine who of the other three is the man we’re looking for…”
And they were both lost in thought for a moment when suddenly loud screams came to Odelia’s ear. They seemed to come from outside, and when she got up to look through the salon window, she saw that Buckerfield’s guests all stood staring up at something.