“He was writing again, you know,” she said dreamily.
“Writing? You mean songs?”
“No, the great American novel,” she said. “Of course songs, silly. I told you last time that he had hundreds of songs tucked away, but lately he’d been having trouble focusing and he’d stopped recording altogether for the past year or so. Until he decided to get into the groove again. He wanted to keep it a secret from Jasper, though. A special surprise for their anniversary. They would have been together fifteen years next month, and he wanted to surprise him by presenting him with an entire album of brand new songs.”
“I thought he’d stopped recording altogether. That he had trouble with his voice. At least that’s what Jasper told the police.”
“Well, he had, but he was working with a voice coach, and things were progressing nicely. His voice had a different timbre,” she said softly. “More mature, but still very much Johnny. And his songs were different, too. More reflective, and completely acoustic. Just Johnny and his guitar.” She sighed wistfully. “I thought they were some of his very best work. Pity the world will never get to hear them.”
“Why not?” I asked. “If Jasper finds those recordings he might release them as a treat to Johnny’s fans.”
“I doubt it,” she said sadly. “With Jasper in prison, the care of Johnny’s estate will probably fall on his wife now, and since Jasper is the only one with access to Johnny’s computers, she won’t even know about the music.”
“Unless we tell Jasper and he tells the wife,” I said.
She eyed me strangely. “How can you tell Jasper? You don’t speak human.”
“No, I don’t, but my human speaks cat, so there’s that.”
She smiled, obviously not believing a word I’d just said.
“It’s true,” Dooley chimed in. “We can talk to our human.”
“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, guys.”
“Princess?” George asked from the house. “Are you coming?”
“Yes, George,” she said, then turned to us. “Time for my beauty sleep. Thanks for the tribute concert. It was wonderful.”
“Thanks for the pâté,” said Dooley with a dumb grin on his face.
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
We watched as she sashayed in the direction of the house.
“Wow,” said Dooley finally. “What a cat.”
“Yeah,” I managed, though a little huskily. “What a cat.”
Chapter 16
Odelia had a hard time finding sleep. Long after she should have drifted off into a refreshing slumber, she was still tossing and turning. She couldn’t stop thinking about the murder case, and how her uncle was sure he got the right man in jail. Even though he’d agreed to interview the widow, he considered it a mere courtesy call. She was convinced that Jasper was innocent, and not just because her father thought so, too. There was something fundamentally wrong about this whole case.
For one thing, the fingerprints on the vial were too convenient. If Jasper had gone to all the trouble of collecting the venom of a rare species of spider, would he really be so dumb to leave his fingerprints behind? She didn’t think so. Those prints had to have been planted there. And where had Jasper found that venom? It wasn’t as if they sold that stuff at Walmart or Target.
The chief assumed he’d gotten it online, or from a friend, but so far he had to admit they hadn’t tracked down either this friend or the site where Jasper could have bought it, and Odelia was pretty sure he never would.
When finally she’d drifted off into a restless sleep, she was awakened by the familiar weight of Max finding his space at the foot of the bed. She smiled. He’d been off half the night, as usual, and she was glad he was back.
“How was your evening, Max?” she whispered, raising her head from the pillow to look at the familiar form of the big, ginger cat. He stared back at her with his remarkable cat’s eyes, lit up by a sliver of moon slanting in through the curtains.
“We did a memorial concert for Johnny,” he whispered back. “His cats were all deeply touched.”
“Why are you whispering?” she whispered.
“Because you are whispering!”
“Oh. Right. Well, that was very sweet of you.”
“Did you know that Johnny was recording again?”
“He was? I thought Jasper said he’d lost his voice?”
“Well, he had, but he was practicing with a voice coach and was writing new songs. He’d recorded a bunch of acoustic songs for Jasper, as a surprise for their fifteenth anniversary. He was going to give it to him next week.”
She thought about this. If Johnny was recording songs for Jasper, he wasn’t going to leave him, was he? And that put that particular motive to rest once and for all.
“You have to tell Jasper,” said Max. “Otherwise those songs will be lost forever. They’re on Johnny’s computer, and Princess said only Jasper has the password.”
“Princess?”
Max hesitated. “One of Johnny’s cats. A Siamese.”
She smiled in the darkness. “Is she nice, this Princess?”
“She’s all right,” he said. “Dooley ate all of her food the other morning, but since she didn’t say anything about it, I guess she didn’t even notice.”
“People like Johnny have housekeepers, Max, and lots and lots of staff. I’m sure they don’t personally deal with minor details like feeding the cats.”
“That’s what I told Dooley!” He paused, then said, “I’m glad you take care of these minor details, Odelia.” His voice suddenly sounded husky.
“I like taking care of those details.”
There was a pause, then Max said, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
She’d almost drifted off to sleep when he asked, in a small voice, “Odelia?”
“Mh?”
“What’s going to happen to me if something happens to you?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Max. I promise.”
“That’s what I told Dooley,” he said, and he seemed satisfied, for a few minutes later she heard his typical light snore softly echoing through the room. The sound soothed her, and before long she was fast asleep herself.
Chapter 17
The next morning saw Odelia, bright and early, swing by the police station to see her uncle. When she breezed into the Chief’s office, not bothering to knock as usual, she found both her uncle and Chase looking downcast, as if they had something on their minds.
She dropped down into the seat next to Chase. “Why the long faces, guys? Bit in a bad donut?”
“If only that were true,” grunted her uncle.
She glanced over at Chase, but he refused to meet her gaze.
“So? Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s wrong?”
Uncle Alec leaned back, his chair creaking beneath his bulk. “We’ve been overruled by the powers that be, I’m afraid.”
She gave him a blank stare. “I have no idea what you just said. What powers that be? What did they overrule?”
“I just got a call from the mayor, demanding we release Donovan Rubb, aka Orville Haggis, at once.”
She sat bolt upright at this. “Release Donovan Rubb? But why?”
“Turns out the mayor got a call from Chase’s old boss, NYPD Commissioner Vernon Necker, conveying his displeasure with Mr. Rubb’s arrest. When he heard Chase was involved, he pretty much blew a gasket.”
“But he can’t force you to release Rubb, can he? That’s just nuts.”
“Well, technically the mayor can’t interfere in an ongoing investigation, but if he wanted to he could have my job, so…”
She stared at her uncle. “Fire you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“He didn’t actually tell me he was going to fire me, but it was implied.”
“Is this still about that same nonsense with the Commissioner?”