She smiled. “Yeah, that is pretty amazing. And your cat helped, too.”
Chase quirked an eyebrow at Brutus. “So he did. Good work, buddy.”
He walked out, Odelia in his wake, and Brutus, Dooley, Harriet and me right behind her. He then locked the door and pocketed the key.
“I’m so glad we’re all friends now,” Harriet said. “This is so nice.”
I caught Brutus’s eye, and the look he gave me was far from friendly. His next words confirmed this. “This isn’t over, Max. You’re going down.”
“Not if you’re going down first,” I replied, a little lamely.
“Friends, you guys!” Harriet said. “We’re all friends now!”
Brutus shrugged and displayed a nasty grin. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter 14
“So? Cracked the case, huh, Chase?” asked Uncle Alec. He took another sizable helping of spaghetti, and ladled some more tomato sauce on top.
It was Thursday night at the Pooles, and as usual Alec had put his feet under the dinner table, along with his temporary roomie Chase. There was spaghetti bolognese on the menu, so Odelia got to relive the famous spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp after all, though she and Chase didn’t slurp from the same plate. But then she wasn’t a lady, and Chase wasn’t a tramp.
She twirled the pasta around the tines of her fork and thought about the case. She had her qualms about Dion as a killer. How convenient that the murder weapon would be lying around in his closet. Too convenient. Why hadn’t the uniformed officers found it when they searched his room?
“Yeah, that was quick work,” Chase said, pressing a napkin to his lips.
“Is it true that the cats actually solved the case?” asked Dad.
“It’s true. The cats are the real heroes here,” Chase confirmed.
Dad shook his head and chuckled. “Unbelievable. Those cats have saved the day so many times now they should be made honorary police officers.”
He gave Odelia a wink and she grinned. Her dad was Hampton Cove’s resident doctor. He had his doctor’s office right across the street from the Hampton Cove Gazette. He was a jovial fifty-something physician with a shock of white hair. He was also one of the only people who knew that his mother-in-law, his wife and his daughter could communicate with felines.
“Yeah, we should probably give them a medal,” Uncle Alec agreed. He sat back in his chair and patted his sizable paunch. He was a large man, and a well-respected chief of police. He’d finally returned from his fishing trip, only to discover he shouldn’t have bothered, as the killer was in jail. “The mayor was very happy,” he said. “He was practically on the phone with the FBI when you arrested Dion Dread. Good thing you nabbed him when you did.”
“It still remains to be seen if we’ve got the right guy,” said Chase. “But all the evidence so far points in his direction.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest, Chase,” said Mom. “You nailed the perp.”
Mom had been reading Lincoln Rhyme novels. The lingo rubbed off.
“Thank you, ma’am. I mean, Marge,” said Chase.
He seemed more relaxed now that the killer was behind bars.
“I just knew that Dion was the perp,” said Gran. The wizened old lady was polishing off her second plate of pasta. She claimed she was on the paleo diet, but Odelia doubted cavemen had ever been into spaghetti bolognese.
“Why is that?” asked Odelia. Gran watched the Kenspeckles religiously.
“Oh, I hate the guy. Even when he was an Olympic swimmer. That man’s got more tattoos than Ed Sheeran. He’s like a walking adult coloring book.”
“I take it you’re not a fan of the Kenspeckles?” asked Chase.
“Of course I’m a fan. I’m a big fan of the Kenspeckles. I’m their number one fan. Where else are you gonna find that much drama? It’s better than General Hospital. And why is that? Because the Kenspeckles are the real deal. They’re not something some Hollywood screenwriter with spectacles, pimples and stinky ramen noodle breath cooked up. It’s all real.”
“Except for Shayonne Kenspeckle’s boobs,” said Mom. “Those can’t be real. They’re lumpy and square. Real boobs aren’t lumpy and square.”
“You’re right about the boobs. You got me on the boobs. They are square. But apart from that, what you see is what you get. All real, all the time.”
“Or Shalonda’s butt. I’ll bet she got herself some of those butt implants.”
“I’ll throw in Shalonda’s butt. Butt and boobs? Fake. The rest? All real.”
“And Shantel’s lips. I’m guessing lip injections. Lots of lip injections.”
“Butt, boobs, lips, check,” said Gran. “And don’t forget about the botox. They all got the botox. Even Steel Kenspeckle got the botox, and he’s a guy.”
“Steel Kenspeckle’s the dad,” I explained, for Chase’s sake.
“I know,” he said. “I read Wikipedia.”
“And what about Camille’s rhinoplasty?” asked Mom.
“Camille’s the—”
“Mother. Yes, I know,” said Chase.
“And then there’s Starr’s laser hair removal. The kid’s got no hair left.”
“Starr is the son,” Gran said as an aside to Chase, who groaned.
“And don’t tell me Shayonne’s eyebrows are real. Those are microbladed.”
Dad grinned. “I’m starting to think I got into the wrong profession.”
“Yeah, Dad,” said Odelia. “You should have gone into plastic surgery. There’s money in plastic surgery. You could have been the Kenspeckles’ personal plastic surgeon if you’d played your cards right. We could all be living in Beverly Hills right now, and I could be writing for the LA Times.”
“It’s not too late,” said Gran, perking up. “I could use a nip and tuck.”
No amount of nip and tuck could ever turn Gran into a babe, but Dad gracefully said, “You don’t need surgery, Vesta. You’re a natural beauty.”
“I know I don’t need surgery, but I could use a lift. At my age stuff starts sagging so much only heavy-duty scaffolding can keep it up. I’ll bet if I had Camille Kenspeckle’s surgeon he could strip off a decade. Can you believe that woman’s as old as Cher and Dolly Parton? She looks like a teenager.”
Odelia felt it was time to give her grandmother a reality check. “Nothing on that show is real, Gran. Everything is fake, and I’m not just talking about the boobs and the butts and the thighs and the noses. I’m talking about the fights and the dramas and the tantrums and the crying. It’s all scripted.”
“Nonsense. Nobody can fake all those feelz. Like when Shantel and Sandy were on vacay in Cabo and they got into this huge fight over who got to bag the cabana boy? You can’t fake that kind of heartfelt emotion. We’ll never know who did the cabana boy but I think it was Shantel. BCheeks cheated on her with the dog walker so she decided to get back at him.”
Chase leaned in, and whispered, “I’m afraid to ask, but who’s BCheeks?”
“Some rapper Shantel dated last year. A total tool.”
He grinned. “I’m surprised you even know the name.”
“Mom and Gran keep me in the loop.”
“You really are into that show, aren’t you, Mom?” asked Uncle Alec.
“I told you. It’s nice to get a slice of real life for a change.”
“What did you think of Shana Kenspeckle, Mrs. Poole?” asked Chase.
“She was a doll. Misguided, of course. Marrying that loser Damien LeWood was a dumb move. The guy is certifiable and should be locked up.”
“She deserved better,” Mom agreed. “That girl was a saint. An angel.”
“She definitely deserved better than to be murdered by that asshat Dion Dread,” Gran agreed. “The show won’t be the same without her.”
“Do you think they’ll cancel the show?” asked Mom, eyes wide.
“They said they wouldn’t,” said Odelia. “Shayonne and Shalonda want to keep it going, and they seem to think this murder will give the show a boost.”