Purrfect Cut

Chapter 8

Odelia was staring out of the window. She felt a little creeped out by being in the same room as the victim of a crime. Not that she was particularly squeamish about being in the presence of a dead person. She’d been involved in more murder cases than any reporter had a right to be, especially in a small town like Hampton Cove. But still… It didn’t feel right. Disrespectful, even. Leonidas Flake should be in the presence of his loved ones. Being laid up in a funeral home so he could be mourned properly. Not on display for all the world to see—or at least two amateur sleuths like herself and Gran.

“Look at this, Odelia,” said her grandmother, and she turned in the direction the old lady was indicating. She was on hands and knees, poking at something under the bed.

“What is it?” she asked, also getting down on all fours.

“I don’t know. Looks like a wrapper.”

“A wrapper? Like a candy wrapper?”

“I don’t think so. More like the kind of wrapper you use for a syringe.”

“Probably something Flake’s nurse dropped.”

“Yeah, probably. I mean, the guy was old, right? So he probably was prodded and jabbed with a bunch of syringes, like, all the time.”

Odelia agreed. Still, just to be on the safe side she took a picture of the item, then shuffled back from under the bed. She was just in time to watch the door swing open and Chase stroll in, followed by the coroner, looking harried.

“Finally,” said Gran. “We thought you’d never get here, Abe.”

Abe Cornwall was a scruffy-looking man in his mid-fifties with a marked paunch and hair that stuck out in every direction, as if he’d stuck his fingers in a socket. “Another homicide over in Happy Bays,” he said as he placed his medical bag on the floor. “Got here as fast as I could. So what have we here?”

“Leonidas Flake,” said Gran helpfully. “Designer to the stars. And now up amongst the stars in heaven himself. Unless he’s gone straight down to hell, of course. I guess with the kind of life the dude probably led all bets are off.”

The coroner stared at Gran for a moment, then proceeded to check the dead man’s pulse. “Dead,” he said with an air of finality.

“No shit,” said Gran. “We didn’t need a doctor to tell us that.”

Abe gave her a censorious look. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Vesta?”

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy, Abe,” she said caustically. “Now tell us, did he get whacked, yes or no.”

The doctor grumbled something under his breath, then proceeded to pull on a pair of plastic gloves, and give the patient on display his full attention. Moments later, he rose with a serious expression on his face. “Francine will be devastated. She loved his designs.”

“Who cares what your wife thinks?” said Gran. “Give us the verdict, medicine man.”

“She picked up a nice pair of pants from Costco last month. Two blouses, too. Discounted, of course. Still, she was happy as a clam. Guy knew his stuff.”

“Oh, my God! Are you going to keep flapping your gums or are you going to get to the point already?”

“Well, as far as I can tell—and this is very preliminary, mind you—he’s been dead for three or four hours. Cause of death is almost certainly a stab wound to the heart. I’ll know more once I get him on my slab.”

“Thanks, Abe,” said Chase, nodding.

“You’re welcome. Now if there’s nothing else…”

“We found a wrapper for a syringe under the bed,” said Gran.

“Probably something his nurse dropped,” said the doctor. He moved over to the nightstand and picked through the small collection of medication collected there. “Heart medicine, and diabetes, of course. Hypertension, anxiety… the usual. I’ll make you a list if you want.”

And as they were about to leave the room, allowing the coroner’s people to move the body down to a waiting ambulance and then to the morgue, there was suddenly a commotion at the door and a strange-looking man dressed in a long black overcoat came waltzing in.

“Not so fast,” he said, fixing all those present with a steely look.

“And who are you?” asked Chase.

The man drew himself up to his full height. “My name is Christopher Cross. And I was hired by that man’s mother,” he said, pointing to Leonidas.

All eyes swiveled to the old man on the bed. “Leonidas Flake had a mother?” asked Odelia, voicing the question that had occurred to everyone.

“Yes, he had. She’s ninety-eight years old but still in full possession of all her faculties. And upon learning the fate that has befallen her one and only son, she’s decided to engage my services.”

“And those are…” Gran prompted.

“I’m a private detective, with a long list of accolades and clients, and I’m here to take over this investigation.”

“I’m Hampton Cove PD, buddy,” said Chase, “so you’re not taking over anything.”

“Pardon me, sir. Of course I meant taking over from the amateur detectives present.” He directed a pointed look to Odelia and Gran. “Odelia Poole, if I’m not mistaken? I thought I’d find you here. And you must be Vesta Muffin. Charmed, I’m sure.” And he actually grabbed Gran’s hand and tried to press a kiss on it. He would have succeeded if Gran hadn’t pulled back her hand and in the process managed to smack the guy across the face with it.

“Ouch,” he said, then gave her a nasty look. “If that’s the way it’s going to be…”

“Look, I don’t know what your game is,” said Chase, “but this is a police investigation, and this is a crime scene, and you’re not invited. So buzz off.”

The guy cut a quick glance at the body, then took out his phone and started snapping pictures of the dead body.

“Hey!” said Chase. “What part of buzz off don’t you understand?”

“I have an official mandate from the victim’s mother,” said the detective. “And I will not be bullied!”

Officers Flunk and Skip had returned, and now attached themselves to the man’s arms and proceeded to escort him from the room.

“This is an outrage!” the detective was saying. “You’ll regret this, Detective Kingsley! Mark my words!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Chase. “So are we finished here?”

“Yes, we are,” said Odelia.

“You can take him away, Doc,” Chase told the coroner.

“So what’s the verdict?” asked Gran as they left the room. “What did your people find out?”

“Nothing much,” said Chase as they descended the stairs. “The maid is the only one who witnessed the aftermath of the crime. We talked to the rest of the staff, and all of them tell the same story: Flake was a very private man, who kept himself to himself. When he was in town he lived here with his boyfriend, and they rarely ventured out. Even though Crier is twenty-five years Flake’s junior, the match was a happy one, by all accounts, and they’re all shocked Crier could have done what he did. No one expected this.”

“Let’s hope you find out more when you talk to him,” said Gran.

“We will,” said Chase. He directed an apologetic look at Odelia. “I’m sorry for dragging you all the way out here.”

“That’s okay,” said Odelia. “I’m glad you won’t need my help.”

They walked out of the house. “So…” said Chase. “I’m sticking around, to make sure we wrap this up nice and tidy, and to make sure that idiot private detective doesn’t give us any more trouble. You two head on back to town.”

That idiot detective was at that moment talking to a member of Flake’s staff.

“You might tell the guy the case is closed,” suggested Gran. “Otherwise he’ll only waste Flake’s mother a lot of money and his staff a lot of time.”

“Oh, he’ll drag this out as long as he can,” said Chase, giving the man a scornful look. “That’s the kind of detective he is.”

“You know him?” asked Odelia, surprised.

“I know of him. He’s a pet detective. Hired to find missing pets. Looks like he’s stepping up in the world, and tackling the more challenging cases.”

They watched the man for a moment, then Odelia decided to look around for her cats. She didn’t see any sign of them, though. Odd. And she’d just started calling out their names when a Siamese cat came waddling up to them.

“Look at that furball,” said Gran with a grin. “Must be Flake’s cat.”

“No, it’s not,” said Chase. “Flake’s cat is a Birman and much smaller.”

“She’s very pretty,” said Odelia. “She even has her own Instagram.”

The Siamese cat approached them and spoke in a gruff tone. “Hey. You that detective babe?”

Odelia frowned. “Um, I’m a reporter, and sometime detective, yes.”

“Tell your cats this case is mine now, you hear?”

“Wait, what?” said Odelia as the cat turned on its paw and snuck into the house.

“You heard,” said the cat over his shoulder. “Tell those losers of yours to stay away while I crack this case. And now piss off, will you?”

“Hey, come back here and apologize, you jerk!” Gran shouted, but the cat was gone. “What a shmuck,” she said. “Did you hear what he said?”

“Um, no,” said Chase. “What?”

Odelia’s jaw was still on the floor. No cat had ever spoken to her like that. And when Gran had repeated the cat’s words, Chase agreed he was a jerk.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Gran. “I’m sick to death of this place already.”

“Max!” Odelia hollered. “Dooley! We’re leaving!”

When no response came, she quickly jogged to the side of the house, but when she saw no sign of her cats, and they didn’t respond to more yelling from her part, she finally gave up.

“They’re probably halfway home by now,” said Gran, who’d joined her.

“Yeah, probably,” she agreed.

She got into Gran’s car and waved to Chase as they drove off. She couldn’t help feeling a slight sensation of unease, though. The same kind of sensation she got when something not-so-good was about to happen.

“I don’t like this, Gran,” she intimated as her grandmother steered the car along the road back to Hampton Cove.

“Yeah, me neither,” said Gran. “No challenge, huh? Way too easy.”

“I’m not talking about the case. It’s Max and the others. Where are they?”

“Like I said, on their way home. They got a lot less patience than we do, honey. They probably decided half an hour into the thing that it was a big old washout and decided to skedaddle. Cats are a lot smarter than us humans.”

Odelia nodded distractedly. In spite of Gran’s words she had a very bad feeling. Her stomach was in knots, and not the good kind of knots either.