I was on the couch, Dooley next to me, watchingJeopardy with Gran, while Harriet and Brutus were nowhere to be found, and neither, for that matter, was Milo.
I knew he couldn’t be far away, though, and the fact that he was closetroubled me, making it impossible to relax.
Now cats are generally vigilant creatures by nature, but I was actually ill at ease, my tummy churning and making strange noises, and that had never happened to me before.
“Where is Brutus, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Harriet, Max?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Milo, Max?”
“I don’t know!”
“No need to shout,” grumbled Dooley. “If you don’t know, just say so.”
I didn’t want to point out that I just had, so I bit my tongue.
“When is Gran going to fix the garden?” asked Dooley, who was in a questioning mood. It generally happened whenJeopardy was on. He probably thought he was Alex Trebek.
“I don’t know, Dooley,” I grumbled.
“There’s nothing to fix,” said Grandma. “The garden is fine just the way it is.”
We both directed a look at the disaster area Gran had reduced the garden to, and both decided it was better not to comment. The mausoleum project had apparently been abandoned, just like the Versailles project that preceded it. I didn’t mind. The piles of sand and the holes were wonderful to dig into and made a nice change from my litter box.
They also provided a great opportunity for Harriet and Brutus to hide when they went on one of their nookie sessions. Though judging from the distant and frankly disturbing way Brutus had behaved today, I had a feeling there wouldn’t be a lot of that going on tonight.
“Did I tell you guys that Tex and I reconciled?” asked Gran now. She was unusually chatty. Possibly because she’d managed to watch all of her soaps and was now fully caught up. Quitting her job had given her oodles of time to do so, and she’d made good use of it.
“That’s great,” said Dooley.
“Does this mean you’re moving back in with Marge and Tex?” I asked.
Dooley’s excitement diminished. He had his doubts about Chase moving in with Odelia, and the prospect of the two of them making lots of babies, which would inevitably push out Odelia’s cats. Even though I told him many times this was not the case, he still wasn’t too keen on the idea.
“Nah,” said Gran. “I like it here. Tex and I have made our peace—he finally apologized for kicking me out of his office and confessed that he needed me—but that doesn’t mean we have to live together. Frankly when two strong personalities like ours spend too much time together we inevitably clash. So it’s better if I stay with Odelia. I never crash with Odelia. She has one of those soft, yielding personalities that suit me a lot better.”
We both directed a curious look at Odelia, but she hadn’t been listening. Phew. It’s never nice to be called a ‘yielding’ personality, which is a fancy word for a pushover.
“So Tex actually apologized?” asked Dooley.
“Pretty much,” said Gran, shoving a Cheez Doodle into her mouth.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Odelia suddenly, and we all looked up.
“Did you finally get those winning numbers?” asked Gran.
“Just something to do with the case,” said Odelia, then abruptly got up. “I’m sorry, you guys. I need to pop out for a bit. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
And with these words she hurried out the door and was gone.
Gran shrugged.“Hormones,” she said knowingly. “They hit you when you least expect it.”
Chapter 43
Odelia was in her car and hurtling along the road when she remembered she’d totally forgotten to take her phone. She slammed the wheel with the heel of her hand. Too late to turn back, though. She needed to see this through. Fifteen minutes later she took the turn onto Uncle Alec’s street, practically losing a hubcap at the corner as her tires screeched dangerously,then parked in front of her uncle’s house and got out.
Pressing her finger to the bell, she was relieved when the door was yanked open and Chase stood before her, a box of Chinese food in one hand, a fork in the other, and a spot of something yellow on his plaid shirt.“Odelia? Were we doing something tonight?”
“I know who killed Dickerson,” she said, moving past him and into the house. She paced the living room as he sat down and finished his dinner. “Remember how I told you about Olaf Brettin visiting Dan at the office?”
“Uh-huh. So?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking there was something I missed. So when I got home I surfed the web. Did you know that Brettin had a daughter?”
“Yeah. I think I read something about that. Didn’t she die?”
“Suicide. Three years ago. So I just happened to watch the video of the eulogy her father gave at her funeral.”
“As one does,” said Chase laconically.
“He called her ‘his rose!’” she said excitedly.
“His rose.”
“His rose! Give me your phone. I’ll show you.”
“Why don’t you show me yours?” he asked with a grin.
“I forgot mine at home,” she said, not in the mood for banter.
He handed her his phone and she quickly found the YouTube video, then scrolled to the moment Olaf Brettin had spoken the fateful words. The man was clearly undone as he stood at the church lectern.‘This tragedy would never have happened if I’d paid more attention,’ the tabloid editor said, a crack in his voice, his speech interspersed with sobs. ‘You should have come to me, my sweet Lavinia. But like an absent father, I was so busy, so immersed in my own world, that I never even noticed the cries for help you posted. Until it was too late. My sweet, darling Lavinia,’ he said, turning to the lily-covered coffin, ‘my rose.’
“See?!” Odelia exclaimed. “Rose! I’ll bet that’s what he used to call his daughter.”
Chase wasn’t impressed. “A lot of fathers call their daughters their rose, their flower, their whatever. This doesn’t mean he killed Dickerson. Unless Dickerson killed this… Lavinia.”
“He might as well have,” said Odelia, taking a seat at her uncle’s dinner table. She noticed the room looked a lot nicer than before. Her uncle’s house used to be a pigsty. Ever since Chase moved in it had improved significantly. “Lavinia Brettin killed herself, right?”
“Okay.”
“Rumor has it that there was a sex tape involved.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah. So what if Dickerson got a hold of this tape and threatened to publish excerpts in theNational Star?”
“What would be the purpose of that? It’s not as if Lavinia Brettin was a celebrity.”
“No, but what if he used it to blackmail her father?”
Chase narrowed his eyes.“Why would one tabloid editor blackmail another tabloid editor? What did Dickerson have to gain?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said, getting up.
“You want to go there now?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
He shook his head.“Look, we’ve got our killers, and we’ve got the guy who paid them, and we know why he did it. So we’ve got motive, opportunity, means—the works.”
“It doesn’t hurt to follow up a secondary lead, does it?”
It seemed to hurt Chase, though, for he threw a quick glance at the television. She rolled her eyes.“Don’t tell me. There’s some silly game on tonight?”
He looked insulted.“The Red Sox are playing the Yankees. Biggest game of the season.”
“Don’t you usually watch these things with Uncle Alec?”
A smile spread across Chase’s features. “He’s coming home tonight. Just in time for the game.”
“Look, if you’re not interested in catching this killer, I’ll just do it myself,” she said, and made for the door.