“Another one!” he cried when he caught sight of her. “You caught another drug dealer?!”
“Yup, I caught him for you and now he’s all yours.”
He threw up his hands in a gesture of exasperation. “What kind of town is this? This is worse than New York!”
After catching his breath, he hoisted this new guy up and outfitted him with a nice pair of gleaming handcuffs to replace the skipping rope. And as Chase led the guy away, through the house this time, past the astonished gazes of the couple who lived there, she told him what the dealer had told her.
“So Orville is in the picture again, huh?”
“Looks like. If this guy was taking over his clients, Orville might have taken it hard and decided to send Johnny a parting gift in the form of a poisoned vial. Take him out once and for all and pin the murder on this guy.”
“Good work,” Chase grunted. “Again.”
“How is my grandmother?”
“I’ve never seen her happier. When I left she was singing the national anthem at the top of her voice, demanding that some store clerk hoist her up to the store roof and let her fly like Lady Gaga at the Super Bowl.”
“See?” asked the dealer. “A little happy juice goes a long way!”
“You’re going to look a lot less happy when I’m through with you,” grunted Chase, giving the guy a shove.
And as they took the turn to the main road, they were getting a lot of attention, people up and down the street staring at the small procession of three: the drug dealer, the burly cop and the svelte blond reporter.
“You know, at this rate Uncle Alec is going to have to deputize me,” Odelia said. “I’ve taken down more bad guys than all you cops combined.”
“Don’t even think about it,” growled Chase. “You’re not a cop and you should stop acting like one. You’re just putting yourself in danger.”
“I could be a cop. I obviously have mad skills.”
“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s bad enough I keep tripping over you everywhere I turn. I don’t want you chasing people and arresting them.”
“Still, it’s definitely something to consider.”
“Nah-ah. Never.”
“You have to admit she’d make a great cop, though,” the drug dealer said. “And a pretty one, too. We don’t have a lot of pretty cops in this town.”
“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” grunted Chase.
They’d arrived at the dealer’s car, where now Chase’s pickup stood, the police light flashing on the roof. Gran was seated inside the trunk of the car, her tush firmly planted amongst the drug paraphernalia the guy sold, and she had a happy grin on her face, her eyes a little misty. Mom was by her side, eyeing Odelia critically. “What did you give her? She’s acting all weird.”
“Me? I didn’t give her anything!” cried Odelia. “She bought this stuff!”
“This is some good shit right here,” Gran croaked, and cackled loudly.
“Oh, God,” said Mom. “We better take her to see your father.”
Five minutes later, Chase dropped the three of them off at the doctor’s office, while he rode on to the police station to process the dealer.
“Don’t forget about dinner, Chase!” Mom said before he rode off. “Odelia is baking a great chocolate cake, aren’t you, Odelia?”
Yes, that was the most important thing right now: chocolate cake.
But Chase surprised her by yelling back, “I’m looking forward to it, Marge.”
The day was turning out a little weird, she felt, what with the murder and drug dealer number one and drug dealer number two and now Gran’s surprise love for GHB. She just hoped that the rest of the day would be less eventful, and that amongst the people Chase had arrested, at least one would turn out to be the killer. By the law of averages, that had to be so, right?
Chapter 13
It had been a long day, and when Dooley and I couldn’t find Odelia at the paper, or the library, or the doctor’s office, we figured she must have gone home. Actually I was glad. I could use a nap. Us cats don’t usually traipse around town all day. We’re more the nocturnal kind, and for us daytime is naptime. But when duty calls, like now, we gladly sacrifice our beauty sleep for the more important stuff, like helping our human catch a killer. Though it’s entirely possible Dooley and I were the exception to the rule in this.
When we arrived in our backyard, I saw to my elation that the glass sliding door was wide open, meaning Odelia was home. And if that hadn’t given her away, the smell of freshly baked chocolate cake would have.
“Hey darlings,” she said when she caught sight of us. She was seated at the kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of coffee. One look at the deep groove in her brow told me she hadn’t had any luck catching the killer yet.
“Hey, honey,” I said. “How’s it going?
“Yeah, any luck cracking the John Paul George thing?” asked Dooley.
He’d hopped up onto a stool, and I followed his example, watching as Odelia stared at us a little sadly and shook her head. “No luck so far, fellas. I did arrest two drug dealers today, so here’s hoping one of them did it. Though to be honest I doubt it. Drug dealers rarely kill their customers. At least not intentionally. And definitely not by putting spider venom in their product.”
“Spider venom? Is that what killed Johnny?” asked Dooley.
“Looks like. A rare spider venom, too. Something called Australian funnel-web spider venom. Supposedly the deadliest spider in the world. Though whoever administered the poison didn’t count on its effect being greatly diminished when ingested. The only reason the venom killed Johnny was because he had a weak heart.”
I thought about this for a moment. She was right. Why would a drug dealer kill a client? It made no sense. He’d lose the client, ruin his reputation, and potentially lose his business. People don’t respond well to traffickers dealing in death rather than bliss. “So what’s your theory?” I asked.
“So far I’ve got no theory,” she admitted, rising to check on her cake. “All I know is that we need to keep looking, because Uncle Alec thinks he’s got his killer in Jasper, and I’m pretty sure the guy is totally innocent.”
“I think so too,” I admitted. Dooley and I quickly gave her the gist of the interviews with Johnny’s seemingly endless row of boy toys, but there seemed to be little news in those testimonies for Odelia, and for once I felt a little helpless. There’s only so much information a cat can glean from humans, and so far we hadn’t found the one clue that would break this case wide open.
“I think you should keep investigating,” I said. “If your uncle thinks he’s got his killer, he’s going to stop looking, and send the wrong guy to prison.”
“I know,” said Odelia, and gave us both a rub on the head. “Thanks for being my perfect feline spies, you guys. How did you ever get so smart?”
“We’re sleuthing cats,” I said, swelling a little. “Sleuthing is in our blood.”
“Yeah, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson got nothing on us,” said Dooley.
Odelia leaned on the desk and eyed us with a humorous glint in her eyes. “So who’s Sherlock Holmes and who’s Dr. Watson, I wonder.”
“Why, I’m Sherlock, of course,” said Dooley.
“How do you figure that?” I asked.
“I’m thin and handsome and you’re fat and… well, not so handsome.”
“I’m not fat!” I cried. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m big-boned. Besides, Dr. Watson wasn’t fat. He was buff and trim. And Sherlock Holmes wasn’t handsome at all. He was… gaunt.”
“Gaunt and handsome,” Dooley insisted. “Just like me.”
“I think you could both be Sherlock Holmes,” said Odelia soothingly.
“Which would make Harriet Irene Adler,” I said.