Purrfect Cover. Purrfect Patsy. Purrfect Son

Chapter 37

Alec Lip, who’d been sleeping peacefully and spooning with his one true love, was rudely awakened from the wonderful dream he’d been having by an insistent ringtone.

“What the…” he muttered, a little disoriented as he groped for his phone.

“Who is it?” asked Charlene next to him.

“No idea,” he murmured as he grabbed the phone and looked. Then, cursing under his breath, he picked up. “Dolores? You know what time it is?”

“Oh, I know what time it is, Chief, but does your mother know?”

The Chief frowned. Dolores’s words vaguely reminded him of a song he’d once heard, then he said, “What are you talking about?”

“Your mother was just arrested, Chief. So I figured I’d better give you a call.”

He closed his eyes again. “Oh, God.”

“No, still Dolores,” said Dolores with a hoarse chuckle. “And next time Vesta decides to go snooping around in the middle of the night I’m just going to tell the duty officer to lock her up and throw away the key. This is the second night in a row, Chief. What is she playing at?”

Alec knew exactly what his mother was playing. Neighborhood watch. Though now it looked as if she was playing midnight watch instead. “Where?” he asked curtly.

“Quintin Gardner’s place. You want the address?”

“I know where it is,” he grunted. “Be there in five.”

“Your mother again?” asked Charlene, who’d heard snatches of the conversation, as Dolores was just about the loudest dispatcher on record, especially when she was obliged to do the night shift, which she hated and which made her even crankier than usual.

He nodded and swung his feet from the bed, then rubbed his eyes.

“Want me to come?”

“No, you go back to sleep, honey. It’s my mother—my burden to carry.”

Charlene smiled and placed a comforting hand on his back. “I’m sorry. She is a handful, isn’t she?”

“A handful? More like a truckful.”

When he arrived at the scene, it was almost as if he was experiencing déjà-vu from the night before: there they were, Vesta and Scarlett, seated in the back of the squad car, the irate homeowner who’d called the cops arguing loudly with the arresting officer.

And when he arrived, of course Quintin Gardner turned to him to repeat his lament.

“These two were sneaking around my house,” said Mr. Gardner, pointing to the two senior citizens. “And looking in through my window, spying on me and my sister. I hope you’ll arrest them and throw them in jail, Chief.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said the Chief, who wasn’t in the mood for community policing. “Go back to bed, sir. I’ll take care of this.”

“I hope you do, Chief. I mean, I’m the one who pays your wages with my taxes, after all, so I expect a little service in return.”

The Chief halted in his tracks and turned back to the candy tycoon. “What did you just say, sir?”

If there was one thing he hated it was people treating him like their servant.

“I said that with the amount of taxes I pay I expect you to make sure this kind of thing doesn’t happen.”

He narrowed his eyes at the man. “As it happens, sir, Mrs. Muffin over there, and Miss Canyon, were working under my instructions. They’re members of the neighborhood watch, and as such tasked with keeping the peace. So are you sure that what you were doing was entirely on the up and up? Sir?”

“Why, of course,” said Mr. Gardner, taken aback by all this backtalk.

“What were you and your sister doing in the middle of the night, if I may ask, sir?”

“Just… discussing some private matters.”

Alec glanced over to his mother and her friend, and thought there was probably more to this case than met the eye. He then turned back to the factory owner and stabbed a finger in the man’s chest. “My instinct tells me something is going on here, sir. And I will tell you right now that I’m not going to rest until I find out what it is. Good night, sir.”

And with these words he left the man staring after him, clearly aghast at the gall of this civil servant to use this tone with him.

Alec then walked up to his mother, planted his hands on his hips and said, “Now what the hell are you playing at, Ma? And don’t give me this watch crap again,” he added.