There was a note of bitterness in her voice, and Odelia didn’t blame her. If something like this happened to her she’d probably die of mortification.
“Did they spread the tape beyond their circle?” Chase asked.
“No, thank God they didn’t. Shana said the best thing would be to destroy the tape, as it could only ruin my reputation. So I did.”
“Why didn’t you quit your job?” Odelia asked. “After what Shana did to you it must have been hard to keep working for the Kenspeckles.”
“It was at first, but this is basically my dream job. A lot of stylists would kill for this job. So I decided to suck it up.” She produced a feeble smile. “It wasn’t so bad. Shana apologized. Said she was totally out of line.”
Chase asked some more questions, and so did Odelia, but it was pretty clear that this was not their killer, nor could she shed any light on the murder.
“All right, Miss Merritt,” said Chase. “Thank you for your time. If there’s anything else you can think of, give me a call.” He handed her his card.
They left the room and walked back to the main house.
“We’re nowhere,” Chase said. “Absolutely nowhere.”
“Did you check Shana’s ex-boyfriend? Robin Masters?”
“Yeah, he’s got an alibi. He’s in Alaska. Writing his autobiography.”
“Isn’t he a little young to write his autobiography?”
But Chase didn’t respond. Boa had joined them. He jerked his thumb in the direction of a woman in a fur coat who stood with her back to them.
“Lady wants a word with you, Detectives,” Boa grunted.
“I think our luck just ran out, Poole,” Chase said.
The woman turned, and Odelia recognized her. Camille Kenspeckle, the matriarch of the Kenspeckle clan. The woman she'd seen so many times on TV and the cover of countless magazines. And she did not look happy.
The moment Camille caught sight of them, she took off her sunglasses. There was a glint of steel in those eyes. “Detective Kingsley, I presume?”
“You presume right, Mrs. Kenspeckle.”
“I’m calling off your investigation, Detective.”
“You can’t call off a police investigation, ma’am. It’s not a photo shoot.”
“I’m bringing in the FBI. This should have been treated as a terrorist attack from the beginning. You failed my little girl, Detective. You failed my family. But no more. I’m taking over, as I should have done from day one.”
“This was not a terrorist attack,” Chase insisted. “This was a homicide, and if you pull us off the investigation now we may never find the one responsible.”
“You’re through, Detective, and so are you, whoever you are,” she said as she gave Odelia a supercilious glance. “This investigation is terminated.”
Camille had a lot more things to say, and so did Chase, but Odelia decided she’d heard enough. It was clear they’d overstayed their welcome. While Chase argued with Camille, she went in search of her cats. She found them on top of the leather couch in the living room, chatting and chillaxing.
“What’s going on?” Max asked.
“They’re kicking us out,” she said.
“See? I told you,” said Max. “I told you this was the end.”
“But they can’t do that,” Dooley said. “We’re the cops.”
“Camille has her own ideas about her daughter’s murder,” Odelia said. She picked up both cats and carried them off. “She’s convinced it was a terrorist attack and that the FBI should take over.”
“She’s calling in the FBI?” Max asked.
“Yep. She said we’ve wasted enough time. She’s taking her family back to LA, where she can protect them from the terrorists. She’s going to trust the FBI to handle the investigation from now on and not us local yokels.”
Max and Dooley followed her to the pickup. Five minutes later, Chase came walking up, his face a thundercloud. They all got into the car, and as they were pulling away from the house, down the long drive and out of the gate, a fleet of black Escalades came roaring up the drive and passed them.
“The Feds,” Chase said. “Camille doesn’t waste any time.”
“So we’re officially through?”
“Yes, we are,” Chase said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
“Can they do that? Just… swoop in and take over?”
“Afraid so.” He glanced over. “It’s out of our hands now, Poole.”
“Pity we didn’t catch the killer,” Dooley said.
“Pity indeed.”
“What’s that?” Chase asked.
“Pity we didn’t catch the killer.”
“Yeah, damn shame.”
“Uncle Alec won’t like this.”
“He doesn’t have to like it. This time tomorrow the Kenspeckles will be gone, I’m pretty sure never to return. So it’s none of our business anymore.”
She settled back in her seat. Yep. This was the end, all right. The. End.
Chapter 22
“This is a nightmare,” said Uncle Alec, worrying the few remaining strands of wispy gray hair on his head until they stood on end.
Odelia and Chase were ensconced in the Chief’s office, discussing the unexpected turn their investigation had taken. A turn down the tubes.
“I talked to the FBI agent in charge. He told me to hand over any evidence we’ve managed to collect and they’ll take it from here.”
“Is he going to allow the Kenspeckles to fly out of here?” asked Odelia.
“Looks like. Camille wants her family safe and sound in that gated community where they all live. She’s hired the best muscle in LA to protect them from the terrorists she thinks are gunning for them. Ex-special forces.”
“I tried to explain we’re not dealing with terrorists here,” Chase said. “But Camille shot me down. She’s convinced her family is under attack.”
“I don’t understand,” Odelia said. “Why isn’t the FBI on the same page? They can’t possibly believe this was the work of some terrorist cell?”
“They’re convinced the killer somehow managed to outsmart Boa’s security team, and snuck in and killed Shana. It doesn’t help that I can’t offer them a suspect at this point. And arresting and being forced to release Dion Dread didn’t exactly boost my credibility. Plus it infuriated the family.”
“So what about the chloroform?” asked Odelia.
“What about it?”
“Don’t terrorists usually plant a big bomb and blow up the whole place? Why sneak in, drug the entire household and target only one person? That doesn’t sound like the work of a terrorist.”
“Try telling them that. I’m done explaining to the Feds how to do their job.”
“Did you tell them the note was an obvious fake?” asked Chase.
The Chief raised his hands and dropped them on the desk. “I’m the local moron here, guys. I’m a joke to these people. They don’t listen to me.”
“With the Kenspeckles gone so is our chance of finding the killer,” Odelia said. Uncle Alec was right. This was a nightmare scenario, and the worst part was that they were exactly nowhere in their investigation. They’d talked to all the principals and so far she didn’t have a single clue to the killer’s identity.
“I don’t know,” said Chase. “You’d almost think Camille doesn’t want her daughter’s killer found.”
"I'm sure she does," said the Chief, "but she doesn't trust you or me."
“When are they leaving?” Odelia asked.
“As soon as they’re ready. They’re packing up as we speak. The Feds will move them out in a motorcade, put them on a private jet and ship them off.”
“I wonder if they’re going to film this whole charade,” said Odelia.
“Of course they will,” said Chase. “This is all going to be on the show.”
“Yeah, this will probably be the number one show of the season.”