“What are you staring at?” this person asked, and stretched awkwardly.
Memory returned and she realized who her roommate was.
“Angela,” she said.
“That’s my name—don’t wear it out.”
“Oh, God, I feel terrible,” said Gran.
“Jet lag,” said her roommate. “You’ll get used to it.”
“That’s right. You’ve been coming and going a lot, haven’t you?”
“I have. And I hate it. Each time I feel like I’m going to die.”
“Must be tough,” Gran offered sympathetically.
“It is. But what are you gonna do? If your only child marries a British prince, traveling to and fro kinda comes with the territory.”
“Why don’t you move here?”
“Are you nuts?” She gave her a critical look. “I have my own life thank you very much. I can’t just uproot it just to come and be a full-time babysitter. Besides, my friends, my family, everyone and everything is back home.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to move here either, even if Odelia married a prince.”
“It’s not just that. I don’t want to be in their way. A young married couple doesn’t need an overbearing mother hen hanging around. If I overstayed my welcome something tells me Dante would probably take a crack at me!”
“You still think it’s Dante that’s behind this whole terrible business?”
“I don’t know what to think. Keep an open mind, right? Don’t trust anyone. So why should I make an exception for the man my daughter married?”
“He seems like a great guy. The way he came to her defense last night.”
“He is. And I think Tessa did very well for herself. I like the dude. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s handsome…”
“The perfect son-in-law!”
Angela laughed.“Exactly! Only we’re too old to let appearances fool us, aren’t we? And we know sometimes things are simply too good to be true.”
Gran nodded. She knew better than anyone. Back home in Hampton Cove she’d helped her granddaughter solve more than one crime, and the killers sometimes turned out to be the last person she’d expected. It had shaken her belief in the essential goodness of man profoundly. Then again, she also trusted her own intuition, and her gut told her Dante was all right. Besides, what kind of man would kill his bride and mother of his newborn baby? Only a demented psychopath, and the young prince didn’t strike her as one.
“Let’s see what your granddaughter comes up with,” said Angela. “I have faith in her. She’s a good little detective.”
“True,” said Gran. “Though she often needs my help. I’m a detective, too, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” said Angela. “I don’t doubt your abilities.” Voices intruded upon their conversation and Angela pointed towards the door. “That’s him now. Mr. Perfect. And if I’m not mistaken that’s his less-than-perfect friend.”
“The wastrel.”
“The wastrel,” Angela confirmed.
Gran moved towards the door and opened it a crack. She’d always been a great believer in snooping and eavesdropping as a way of catching criminals.
“You’ve changed,” the wastrel was saying. “You’ve changed so much it’s not funny anymore. And it’s not just me that’s saying it. They all do. Spiffy, Toddles, Pongo, Bertie. Even Bingo says you’re not the man you used to be.”
“Of course I’ve changed! I’m married, and a dad. What did you expect?”
“I expected you to be my best mate, mate. Not to chuck me the first chance you got. What does she have that I don’t, eh?”
“Oh, for God’s sakes. Don’t make this about Tessa.”
“I didn’t make it about Tessa—you did, old chum. When you decided to get rid of fun Dante and turn into an old boring stiff.”
“I’m still fun Dante, only now I’m having fun being a dad and a husband.”
“Oh, booooring!”
“I think you better leave now, Damien.”
“See? You’re chucking me out!”
“I’m not chucking you out! I just don’t want you to make a scene in front of my wife and daughter.”
“I’m not making a scene. I’m just having a chat with my chum.”
“Let’s talk later, yeah?”
Tessa must have entered the room, for Damien cried,“There she is, the breaker-upper of friendships.”
“Hello, Damien,” said Tessa. “How are you?”
“Pitiful! Your husband doesn’t even want to go to the pub with me.”
“Well, I guess he’s got other things to do.”
“He’s got you to do, you mean,” said Damien darkly.
“Damien,” said Dante warningly. “Don’t talk to my wife like that.”
“I’ll talk to your wife any way I damn well please! This is all your fault, Tessa,” said Damien, causing Angela, eavesdropping next to Gran, to raise a meaningful eyebrow.
“I never told Dante he couldn’t see you.”
“You don’t have to! You’ve got him on such a tight leash he’s turned into one of those pod people. A zombie. You’ve poisoned his mind against his best mates and now I don’t even recognize him anymore!”
“And here I thought only women could make a scene,” Gran whispered.
“Oh, men can do it better,” said Angela. “And Damien is not the only one. Plenty of Dante’s old friends are annoyed he doesn’t hang out with them anymore. And they all blame Tessa, of course.”
A security man must have been alerted by the noise, for Damien now said,“All right, all right! I’ll go. You don’t have to—ow! You’re hurting me!”
“Please leave now, sir,” said a deep voice.
“It’s all right,” said Dante. “Damien was just leaving, wasn’t he?”
“No, I wasn’t!”
“Call me, yeah?”
“Fat chance!” cried Damien. “And don’t you dare call me, unless it is to apologize for your appalling behavior and that of your dreadful Goon McGoon.” And just before he slammed the door, he added, “See you in hell!”
“Ouch,” said Gran. “Looks like another candidate for our list of suspects.”
“Oh, this one just hit the top of the list,” said Angela. “And now for a more important question: who’s going to shower first—you or me?”
Chapter 18
I’d escaped the living room when the brawl with the former friend of Dante’s began to get loud. Dooley had joined me, while Harriet and Brutus had presumably taken a different route and were checking out some other part of the house in search of some peace and quiet.
Cats don’t like loud. We like it when humans don’t raise their voices or shout down the house. We don’t like loud music either, or loud noises in general. Cars backfiring, fireworks or explosions: big no-no’s in our world.
“This looks like a nice and quiet place,” said Dooley.
“Yeah, I hope so,” I said as we walked into what looked like an office of some kind. It was empty, which was a plus after the ruckus we’d endured.
“Who knew Dante had such obnoxious friends?” said Dooley.
“Not me.”
We glanced around and to our elation found a nice and comfy-looking couch waiting for us in the office. Dooley and I shared a look of pleasant surprise and headed for the couch. We soon made ourselves comfortable and were enjoying a nap when loud voices approached.
“Oh, no,” said Dooley without opening his eyes.
“Maybe they won’t come in,” I said.
The voices grew louder, and then Tessa walked in, accompanied by a stern-looking woman with glasses, hair pulled back in a painful-looking bun.
“Maybe they won’t stay,” I said.
The two women settled themselves at a table next to the desk.
“Maybe they’ll meditate,” said Dooley.
But of course they launched into some kind of business meeting. The woman obviously was Tessa’s assistant, for she had a whole list of stuff for Tessa to do. And as she read it out, Tessa was giving comments and adding her notes.