She jumped at the chance. “Talk to the Dieber? Are you kidding? Of course!”
“Cool it, Bedieber. This is a murder investigation, not a meet and greet.”
“I know that,” she said, trying to inject a modicum of solemnity into her demeanor. Her radiant smile gave her away, though. So far Dan’s attempts to land her an exclusive sit-down had been a bust. Now she would get some face time with the star after all. Though instead of asking him about his love life she’d have to confine herself to threats made against his life.
She didn’t care. She was going to meet her biggest idol—yay! She just hoped she’d be able to restrain herself, and not go all fangirl on him. Though she was sure Chase’s presence would keep her feet on the ground and prevent her from making a complete fool of herself.
“I’m heading back to the station,” Alec announced. “Not much more we can do here.”
Odelia decided to tag along. If she was going to get to the bottom of this she needed to stick to Chase and her uncle like glue. The funny thing was, they usually let her. Even though she was a reporter she had great instincts as a snoop, and had helped them out on more than one case.
“You know?” said Chase as they walked back to their respective vehicles. “Your status as an official Bedieber just might come in handy. You know an awful lot about the guy, huh?”
“Ask me anything,” she said.
“How does a kid who sounds like a sickly goat become a global pop sensation?” asked Alec.
“Ask me anything not insulting,” she amended.
“Why don’t you join us on the investigation?” Chase suggested. “I have a feeling this might prove a tough one to break, and if Dieber meets a true groupie like you, he just might be more accommodating to our line of questioning. Open up, if you know what I mean.”
She frowned, not knowing whether to be insulted or complimented. “For your information, I’m not a groupie. I’m just a very big fan. I think he’s extremely talented.”
“Exactly. The guy obviously has a gigantic ego—all those big stars do—and if I take you along to stroke it…” He spread his arms. “Done deal, babe.”
She shook her head as she hopped into her pickup. “You know what? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were jealous, Kingsley.”
“Jealous! What’s there to be jealous about?”
“His success? His mega-fortune? His millions of fans?”
He made a throwaway gesture with his hand as he, too, climbed into his pickup. “I’m not jealous. Of that knucklehead? Puh-lease.”
She shared a quick smile with her uncle, who was shaking his head at their war of words. “Kids—do try to get along, will you? We’ve got a murder to solve, and a killer to catch. Preferably before he kills Odelia’s personal hero.”
His words startled her. And as she started up her car, she realized he was right.
Someone was trying to kill Charlie Dieber. And if they didn’t catch this guy before he succeeded, those millions of Bediebers—not to mention Mom—would be devastated.
Chapter 5
Odelia slipped her pickup into a free parking spot in front of the police station and climbed out, slamming the door shut. A big chunk of rust dropped down. She ignored it. When you drive a car as aged as hers, this kind of thing was to be expected.
Inside the station house she was greeted by sheer pandemonium. Usually not much happened in Hampton Cove—from time to time a flurry of activity would keep its police force engaged, but pretty soon things would return to normal. Now, however, the town’s finest were locked into a feverish attempt to nail the perp who’d taken a shot at Dieber and missed.
Officers moved in and out of offices and interview rooms, and everywhere she looked teens and preteens occupied the space otherwise reserved for the town drunks, hard-partying weekend tourists and the elderly, complaining about those same hard-partying weekend tourists and those selfsame drunks using their mailboxes to relieve themselves.
She walked through to her uncle’s office at the end of a long corridor and gave the doorjamb a knock on her way in. The big guy was looking more than a little unnerved, the few hairs on his head that had survived attrition in disarray and his facial expression frazzled.
“You gotta help us out here, honey,” he told her, rifling through his desk.
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Chase is heading into interview room number one to talk to one of the witnesses. Can you give him a hand? We need to get through all of them but we don’t want to keep them too long either, or else their moms and dads will get all worked up and give us hell.”
“How many have you got?”
“Heck if I know. Dozens, probably. That Dieber kid sure knows how to attract a crowd.”
“Yeah, for a singer who can’t sing he sure is popular, isn’t he?” she said with a grin.
He leveled a comical look at her from beneath bushy brows, then continued rifling through his desk.
“What are you looking for?”
“My glasses!” he cried, throwing up his hands. “I know I left them in here somewhere before I got called out to the radio station and now I can’t find the damned things! How the hell am I supposed to organize a bunch of interviews if I can’t even read my own notes?!”
She pointed at his head, where his glasses were perched. His eyes rolled up, then he placed his hands on his head, retrieved the glasses without a hitch, and put them on his nose with a grateful nod in her direction. “Thanks, honey. I’m a doofus and you’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, Uncle Alec,” she said before leaving the office, “I asked Dad to install a pet door at my place. Could you give him a hand? Before he goes and destroys the house, I mean?”
Uncle Alec nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. And if you and Chase catch me this killer before he takes another shot at Dieber, I might even get to it sooner rather than later.”
She stepped out of her uncle’s office, leaving him to coordinate the investigation, and headed over to interview room number one, where Chase was already talking to a particularly nervous-looking girl who couldn’t have been older than fourteen. She was accompanied by her mother, who looked as uncomfortable being there as her daughter.
They all looked up when she walked in, and she gave them a smile that she hoped would put them at ease. “Hey there,” she said. “My name is Odelia Poole and I’ll be assisting Detective Kingsley with the interview if that’s all right with you guys.”
She darted a quick look at Chase, who gave her a curt nod.
“Miss Poole is a civilian consultant,” he explained. “She helps us out from time to time. Now what can you tell us about what happened this morning, Kayla? In your own time, and in your own words, please.”
Kayla’s mother turned to her daughter. “Just tell them what you saw so we can get out of here, honey.”
The girl looked like a deer in the headlights, her eyes swiveling from Chase to Odelia and back to her mother. “I saw Charlie. He was coming out of the building. We’d been waiting for what felt like hours—me and Janet. And my mom, of course,” she added softly, as if embarrassed that her mother would have been there, too.
“Who’s Janet?” asked Odelia. “Is she your friend?”
Kayla nodded. She was of slight build, with long dark hair and large brown eyes that now were wide and terrified. She was wringing her hands, and Odelia saw she had a temporary tattoo of a kitten on her wrist—a Bedieber thing. At least she hoped it was a temporary tattoo and not a permanent one, as she seemed kinda young to start inking up.
“Janet and I are Charlie’s biggest fans.”
“That’s an understatement,” said her mother, settling back in her chair. She was a large woman, with a perpetual frown that had cut a deep groove between her brows. It made her look annoyed and put out, even though she didn’t appear to be particularly unfriendly. Merely concerned, which was understandable under the circumstances.