Purrfect Murder. Purrfect Pet. Purrfectly Deadly. Purrfect Revenge

1. PURRFECT MURDER

Chapter 1

I lifted one eyelid and grunted approvingly at the sun bathing the room in its golden hue. It was eight o’clock in the morning, so high time for an extended nap, but first I needed to see my human off to work. As usual, Odelia had a hard time throwing off the blanket of sleep and facing the world. She was still in bed, even though her alarm clock had gone off, and I’d alerted her to the fact that a new day was dawning by meowing plaintively and as loud as I possibly could, pawing the wardrobe door in the process. She’d thrown a throw pillow at me, so I knew she’d gotten the message.

It wouldn’t be long now. Odelia might hate getting up in the morning, but eventually she inevitably does, so I stretched and rolled over onto my back.

I have to admit I really lucked out when I was selected by Odelia to become her pet eight years ago, when she picked me out of the litter and decided I was a keeper. Odelia is not only one of the nicest and most decent humans a cat could ever hope to get, but she’s also very generous when it comes to distributing the kibble and other goodies. She keeps my bowl filled to the rim, and frequently adds a tasty wet food surprise to the mix.

My name is Max, by the way, and as you might have guessed I’m a feline. A male feline. Some of my friends call me fat, but that is simply a vicious lie. I’m big-boned. All the tabbies in my family are. It’s genetics. And, just like my brothers and sisters, I’m blorange. A blend of orange and blond.

Today was going to be a special day. I could feel it in my bones. Yes, my big bones. But it wasn’t merely my intuition. Harriet, the white Persian belonging to Odelia’s parents who live next door, told me last night that a new cop had moved to Hampton Cove. And if she hadn’t told me I would have found out for myself, for there was a new cat on the block. A nasty brute aptly called Brutus. Black as coal, built like Tom Brady, and with evil green eyes, Brutus barged into our midnight meeting in Hampton Cove Park last night, announcing he was now in charge of all the public spaces in Hampton Cove, on account of the fact that his owner was a cop. Delusions of grandeur was what I called it, and in response Brutus demonstrated the sharpness of his claws by stripping a nice piece of bark from my favorite tree.

Not a cat you want to rumble with, in other words. And if his owner was made of the same cloth, the town of Hampton Cove was in for a rough ride.

“Hey, Max,” Odelia’s voice rang out as she descended the stairs.

“Over here,” I said, giving her a wave from my position on the couch.

She plunked herself down next to me and gave my belly a tickle. She was still dressed in pink PJs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand while she rubbed my belly with the other. In response, I purred contentedly.

Odelia is slim and trim, with shoulder-length blond hair and big eyes the color of seaweed that always sparkle with the light of intelligence. She grimaced when a ray of sunshine hit her face.“Wow, too much too soon.”

“Not really,” I said. “Sun’s been up since before seven, sleepyhead.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” she said, getting up with a groan. “I was up late last night working on a piece about that sinkhole on Hayes Road.”

She shuffled into the kitchen and started up the coffeemaker while I tripped after her, then hopped onto one of the kitchen counter stools so we could continue our conversation. Oh, didn’t I mention it? Odelia belongs to that rare kind of human who can actually converse with cats. Not that she’s Doctor Dolittle or something, but she comes from a long line of women with a strong affinity with the feline species. As far as I understand it, her foremothers were witches, at a timewhen being a witch was a surefire way of getting burned at the stake. And even though that witchy streak has diminished over the generations, the women in her family can talk to cats, and do so to their heart’s content. Odelia even claims her ancestors used to turn themselves into cats and back. No idea if that’s true but it’s pretty cool.

I glanced at my bowl, and saw it was still half full, which was better than half empty, so I returned my attention to Odelia, who was pouring cornflakes into her own bowl. Yikes. How she can eat that stuff, I don’t know.

“Did you hear the latest?” I asked, draping my tail around my buttocks.

“No, what’s that?”

“There’s a new cop in town.”

This seemed to interest her, for she looked up from her cereal.“Oh?”

“Yeah, some hotshot that calls himself Chase Kingsley. Used to work for the NYPD.”

“The NYPD? So what’s he doing in Hampton Cove?”

I shrugged. Yes, cats can shrug, though it’s hard to notice with all the hair. “Beats me. All I know is that people are saying he might succeed Chief Alec.”

Odelia frowned.“That’s impossible. Uncle Alec is only…” She frowned some more. “Actually I have no idea how old he is.”

“He’s older than your mother,” I supplied.

“Yeah, but not old enough to retire, surely.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to take early retirement.”

“I’ll have to ask him,” she said, making a mental note of this.

Odelia works for theHampton Cove Gazette as a reporter, and I give her the odd scoop now and then. Since us cats are pretty much all over the place, I’ve been able to provide her with a steady stream of breaking news over the years, ranging from that rat infestation at Dough Knot Bakery, to the milk spill at the dairy farm. Cats were all over that one, as you can imagine.

This has given Odelia’s career quite a boost, and given her the reputation of a hard-nosed reporter. Her editor often asks her where she gets her information, but she’s been diligently protecting her sources—moi. If word ever got out that her sources all have whiskers, a furry tail and a propensity for licking their own genitalia, she’d probably be front-page news herself.

“I should probably do an interview with this Chase Kingsley.”

She took a tentative sip from her coffee and perked up. It’s something I’ve never understood about humans. How they can drink that horrible brew. I’ve jumped up on this kitchen counter once or twice to have a lick at the stuff, and I can’t get over the terrible taste. I’ll take a piece of chicken liver every time.

“You should. I hear he’s one of those hunkishly handsome guys.”

She looked up at this.“Hunkishly handsome?”

“And single, if the word on the street is to be believed. At least that’s what Harriet told me.” I shook my head disgustedly. “Probably one of those playboy types who goes around hitting on every woman in sight.”

“I’ll bet he’s not,” said Odelia, taking the next seat.

“Oh, yes, he is. If Harriet is mooning over Chase Kingsley you can rest assured he’s the playboy type. She’s always falling for that kind of guy.”

“She can’t fall for that kind of guy,” said Odelia, making a funny face. “Harriet is a cat, Max. Cats don’t fall for humans. It’s simply not possible.”

“Oh, yes, they do. Cats fall for humans all the time, only not for the same reason humans fall for other humans. When we fall for one of you it’s because you provide us with a great home, great food and great cuddles.”

“And why does Harriet think this Chase Kingsley provides all of that?”

“Because he’s got a cat of his own. A nasty brute called Brutus. I met him last night and he’s a real piece of work. And if his owner is anything like him, we’ve got another thing coming in this town. Do you know what he told me?”

She took a swig from her coffee.“What?”

I lowered my voice.“He only eats meat. No kibble. Can you believe it?”

She laughed.“Sounds to me like you’re jealous, Max.”

“Hey, I’m the least jealous cat in this town.”

“Why does eating meat make Brutus a bad cat?”

“Because… who gives their cat only raw meat? It’s simply not done!”

She nodded.“Who’s got the money, right?”

“Exactly. You certainly don’t.” If this came across as a barb, I didn’t mean it. I totally get how Odelia can’t afford to feed me filet mignon every day. Not on a reporter’s salary.

But if I expected her to be offended, I was mistaken. Instead, a keen look had appeared in her eyes.“Do you think this Chase Kingsley is rich?”

“I doubt it. A cop? Rich? Highly unlikely.”

“Maybe he comes from money?”

I shook my head.“I don’t think so, honey. If he did, either Brutus or Harriet would have told me. The guy’s a genuine blabbermouth, and so is Harriet, as you well know.”

“Know what?” asked a voice from the door.

Chapter 2

Oh, crap. That’s the problem with cats. They tread so softly you never hear them coming until they’re already upon you.

“Hey, Harriet,” I said when the white Persian strode into the kitchen. As usual, she was looking haughty, her nose in the air. I swear she thinks she’s the Queen of Sheba or something. Or the Queen of Hampton Cove, at least.

“We were just saying how well-informed you always are,” said Odelia.

Nice save.“Yeah, how you always seem to know everything about everybody,” I added sweetly.

She smiled at this. You might be surprised that cats can smile, but they can. Again, it’s the hair. It obscures many of our facial tics. “It’s true,” she said complacently. “I do know everything about everybody all of the time.”

“Max was just telling me about this new cop in town,” said Odelia.

“Chase Kingsley,” she said, nodding. “He’s a dreamboat.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Here we go again.”

“No, he is,” she insisted. “He’s just about the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve laid eyes on my fair share of men over the years.”

Listening to Harriet, you would almost think she’s a human herself, which is a phenomenon quite common amongst cats. They spend so much time with humans they get confused. It’s called cross-species confusion. It’s a thing. It really is. At least I think it is. “If he’s as handsome as Brutus, I can tell you you’re blind, Harriet,” Isaid now. “That guy isn’t handsome. He’s scary.”

“There’s nothing scary about Brutus,” she said huffily. “He’s one fine cat.”

“He’s a bully, that’s what he is, and I don’t like him one bit. Barging in here as if he owns the place.” Then suddenly it dawned on me what Harriet had said. I narrowed my eyes at her. “How would you know what Chase Kingsley looks like? Did you see him?”

“I sure did.” Her face took on a beatific quality. “He looks lovely when he sleeps. Like an incredibly buff angel.”

Odelia barked an incredulous laugh.“You watched him sleep?”

“Of course. I walked Brutus home last night and he invited me in. Who was I to say no? Especially when it gave me the chance to get a glimpse of the new cop in town. And I have to say Chase Kingsley is everything Brutus said he was and more.” She emitted a giggle. “He sleeps in his boxers. NoPJs.”

If I could have, I would have covered my ears with my paws.“Please, Harriet. Don’t make me puke.”

“He sleeps in his boxers?” asked Odelia.

Harriet gave her tail a studious lick.“Boxers… and nothing more. Tr?s cute.”

I held up my paw.“Enough already. Brutus is a bully and I’m pretty sure so is his master. Or have you forgotten that pets and their owners often share distinctive traits?”

“Oh, please. Odelia’s blond and you’re orange.”

“Blorange. I’m blorange, which is almost the same thing as blond.”

“I’m sure that’s not even a real color.”

“It is a color,” I assured her. “It’s strawberry blond, with gold rose hues.”

“You’re such a freak,” Harriet sighed, shaking her snowy white fur.

“Hey, don’t use the word freak in my house,” warned Odelia. “That’s not nice. Now tell me more about this new cop. Where does he live?”

“He’s staying at Chief Alec’s for the moment. Until he can find his own place.”

Odelia’s eyes were positively glittering with interest. So I gave her a warning scowl. “Don’t listen to Harriet. The guy is a bully. Waltzing into town as if he owns the place. Leaving his repulsive pee all over the place.”

Odelia frowned.“Leaving his pee? You mean Chase Kingsley is a public urinator? That’s not right for a cop. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Not Kingsley, Brutus. Though I wouldn’t put it past Kingsley either.”

“How would you know? You haven’t even met the guy,” Harriet challenged.

“I just know these things. I’m a great judge of character.”

“You’re simply jealous because both Brutus and Chase are alpha males and you’re not.”

“They’re bullies,” I pointed out. “There’s a distinction.”

She turned to Odelia.“You should snap him up now, Odelia, if you want to have a shot at him. He’s bound to become very popular very soon.”

This appeared to be one bridge too far for Odelia, though.“I have no intention whatsoever to snap anyone up,” she said, her smile vanishing. “The only reason I’m asking is because I’ll need to write a piece about the guy.”

“I’m sure Chief Alec will drop by the newspaper today to introduce him,” Harriet said, then lowered her gaze. “So you better make sure you’re dressed to the nines, honey. Remember what they say about first impressions.”

“Odelia doesn’t have to dress up to make a great first impression,” I said. “And what’s more, I don’t see why she has to make a great first impression in the first place. It’s not as if she’s even remotely interested in the man, is she?” I gave Odelia a pointed look, but she choseto ignore me. Never a good sign.

“I can always make an extra effort,” she said instead, dragging her fingers through her long blond mane and shaking it out until it fanned out across her shoulders. Uh-oh.

“Why would you want to dress up for that idiot?” I asked, alarmed.

She laughed.“You’re overreacting, Max. I just want to make sure I look presentable for our first meeting. I’ll probably spend a considerable amount of time with the man, working closely together as I have with Uncle Alec.”

That was true enough. As a reporter, she often sat together with the chief to thresh out the details of some case he was working on.

She now rose from the chair and drained the final dregs from her cup, then transferred it to the sink and gave it a good rinse.“Think I’ll go and get ready, you guys.” She winked at Harriet. “Don’t want to be late for work.”

Harriet purred approvingly. The moment Odelia had disappeared upstairs, Harriet gave me a supercilious look.“See? She likes him already. That’s women’s intuition for you.”

“Oh, boy,” I muttered. I had a bad feeling about this. Odelia hooking up with this cop? No way. Imagine they hit it off. Next thing they’d be moving in together, which meant I’d have to share my space with Brutus. Not only my space, but my food, too. And my extra special place at the foot of the bed!

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Harriet sweetly. Too sweetly for my taste.

“I can’t move in with that Nazi furball, Harriet,” I said, shaking my head nervously. “I can’t live with the monster bully spawn from hell!”

“I told you, he’s not a bully, Max. Brutus is simply a stickler for discipline. Just like his human, I would imagine. They’re both cops, Max, not bullies.”

But I wasn’t fooled. Last night Brutus had sprayed all over my favorite tree, just to taunt me. When I complained, he pointed out that Hampton Cove Park and its trees were part of the public domain, and as such off limits to cats that weren’t law enforcement like him. If I wanted to mark a tree as my own, I would have to do it in my own backyard, not the park. It was an awfully narrow interpretation of the Hampton Cove penal code, I felt, if cat spraying was even in the code, as Brutus seemed to suggest.

“He practically chased us out of the park last night!” I cried.

“He did nothing of the kind. He simply pointed out that we’re not supposed to view the park as part of our personal territory.”

“He said I should stick to my backyard if I want to mark my territory!”

“Well, isn’t your backyard big enough for you? And if you’re so desperate for space you can pee in my yard, too, Max. All right?Mi jardin es su jardin.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I grumbled. Or actually I did. It meant that from now on, this town wasn’t ours anymore. Brutus had taken over.

“Hey, you guys,” a voice spoke from the living room. “Where are you?”

I rolled my eyes again, and Harriet had to suppress a giggle.

“Over here, Dooley!” I called out, then heaved an exasperated groan.

The Ragamuffin came waddling up.“Oh, hey,” he said, his usual stupid grin plastered all over his stupid face.

Dooley is Odelia’s grandmother’s cat, and he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact he’s probably the dumbest cat for miles around, which hasn’t stopped him from securing himself a place in the Poole clan’s hearts and minds. He’s a big, beige, fluffy hairball, and seems to have gotten it into his head that I’m his best friend and wingman. Probably because he lives next door, and is in here all the time. In that sense Harriet, Dooley and I are one big, happy family. Or at least that’s how Dooley sees it.

“What were you talking about?” he asked now.

“The new cat in town,” I said before I could stop myself.

Dooley’s eyes widened. “There’s a new cat in town?”

“Brutus,” Harriet said. “Remember from last night? We met at the park?”

“He told you not to rub yourself against your favorite tree,” I added.

“Oh, that Brutus,” he said, his face clearing. “What about him?”

“Harriet seems to think he’s something special,” I said. “While I think he’s the second coming of Satan, Lucifer and the Prince of Darkness combined.”

Dooley shivered.“I thought he was way intense.”

I gestured at Dooley.“Thank you, Dooley. Brutusis intense.”

Harriet didn’t agree, of course. “Perhaps it’s because he has taken on so much responsibility. That kind of pressure can weigh on a cat.”

“What responsibility!” I cried. “He’s just a stupid cat!”

“He does have great fur, though,” said Dooley.

I turned to him.“What?!”

“That’s raw meat for you,” said Harriet, a little enviously.

“He gets raw meat?” asked Dooley, surprised.

“Only raw meat,” I agreed grudgingly.

“No wonder he’s so incredibly buff and fit!” said Dooley.

“He is buff and fit, isn’t he?” gushed Harriet. “He’s simply dreamy.”

“He’s a musclebound moron,” I grumbled. “That’s what he is.”

“Who is a musclebound moron?” asked Odelia, stepping into the kitchen. She’d showered and dressed and looked cute as a button in a flowery summer dress that revealed quite a bit of cleavage and a lot of leg. My jaw dropped. If this was the way she was going to meet Chase Kingsley I might as well welcome Brutus into our home now. The guy would fall for her like a ton of bricks. I just knew he would. No one could resist my human when she was all fresh-faced and cute as a button like this.

“Brutus,” I said, in a last-ditch effort to stop this terrible ordeal from taking place. “Like his master, he’s a musclebound idiot addicted to meat.”

“You can’t be addicted to meat,” Dooley laughed. “It’s an essential component of a well-balanced diet. And what’s essential can’t be addictive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grunted. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

Dooley blinked confusedly.“Who’s Dr. Phil?”

“You guys better behave,” said Odelia as she snatched her clutch from the counter and strode to the sliding door that led into the backyard. She closed it. “Oh, and could you find out whatever you can about Chase Kingsley?”

Now it was my turn to blink confusedly.“Anything?”

“Sure. The more I know about him, the better… for my article,” she concluded lamely.

I saw an opportunity here. An opportunity to dig up some dirt on this new supercop, so I nodded.“Sure. I’ll do my best.”

“Great. See you later, guys.”

“See you, hon,” said Harriet.

“See you, Odelia,” said Dooley.

I didn’t say anything. I was thinking hard how to stop my human from hooking up with Brutus’s human and making my worst nightmare come true.

We watched Odelia walk out the front door, then return five seconds later to grab her sunglasses from the hallway credenza, then return again to grab her smartphone, give us a goofy grin, a cheery wave, and pull the door shut.

“Oh, don’t look so glum,” said Harriet.

“You would look glum if you were about to be kicked out of your home.”

“Brutus won’t kick you out of your home.”

“He will, too. First he kicked me out of the park, now he’ll kick me out of my house. The cat’s a genuine natural born bully.”

“He’s not. He’s simply… a natural born leader.”

“And what does that make me? A natural born loser?”

Harriet merely grinned.

“Oh, I can see what’s going on here,” I said. “Odelia is hooking up with hot new cop, and you’re hooking up with hot new cat. Is that it?”

She shrugged and sashayed in the direction of the pet door.“Time for my beauty nap, boys. See you later.” And with a swish of her tail, she gracefully disappeared through the door and was gone, leaving me alone with Dooley.

“So who’s this Dr. Phil?” Dooley asked after a pregnant pause.

“Oh… just go away, Dooley.”

Chapter 3

I resisted the temptation to take a long nap on my favorite blanket, the one Odelia had put on the couch to protect it from my habit of digging my nails into any soft tissue I encountered. I needed to check out this cop character first. If this guy decided to put the moves on my human and foist Brutus on me, I needed to stop him dead in his tracks before that happened.

So I bade goodbye to Dooley and waddled out the pet door and into the backyard. After sniffing at a couple of trees, just to make sure no one had dared trespass on my domain, I set out along the road, slowly making my way into town. It didn’t take me long to reach the police station, which was just around the corner. I knew it as the place where cops liked to gather to snack on glazed donuts and coffee before starting their job of catching bad humans.

Not that there are a lot of bad humans in Hampton Cove. In fact it’s probably the most peaceful town on the North Shore. Apart from your occasional rowdy tourist collapsing on the beach or wrapping his car around a tree, it’s a pretty peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.

I hurried across the road, narrowly being missed by a speeding car, past the doctor’s office where Odelia’s dad Tex works, and the library, where her mom works as a librarian, and finally reached town square, with the giant clock the mayor had installed a couple of years ago and which has proved such a hit with locals and tourists alike, and then I was homing in on the policestation. A squat one-story building, it sported the letters ‘Hampton Cove Police Department’ above the entrance. Behind those double doors, Dolores sat, presiding over the vestibule and always ready to take note of any complaint the citizenry might have. Since technically I wasn’t part of thecitizenry, and couldn’t very well waltz in through the front door, I walked around back instead, and headed straight for the window of Chief Alec’s office, where I’d picked up many a private conversation over the years.

I hopped up onto the windowsill and once again praised Chief Alec’s good sense always to leave the window open a crack. Someone must have told him once that fresh air was good for him, and I could only agree wholeheartedly.

One peek inside the office of the good chief told me that I’d hit the jackpot. He was in there with a hunkish male I’d never seen before. His long limbs stretched out languidly, his athletic body casually draped across the chair, he was listening to Chief Alec intently. He was definitely a handsome guy. He had one of those square jaws and chiseled faces that were all the rage with the ancient Greeks. A lock of dark brown hair dangled down his brow, his hair a little too long for a cop, which gave him a rebellious look.

His white cotton shirt was stretched taut over bulging chest muscles, and his arms were all biceps and triceps and his belly was perfectly flat, unlike the beer belly Chief Alec had going for himself. If I’d had to venture a guess, I’d have pegged the guy in his early thirties, and never had the words ‘ruggedly handsome’ been a better description for any human male. Odelia was definitely in trouble, if my limited experience was anything to go on.

I hunkered down and pricked up my ears, hoping to find confirmation that this guy was, indeed, Chase Kingsley, and not simply a tourist filing a complaint about a stolen wallet, or a traveling salesman badgering the chief.

“So what do we know so far?” the guy was saying.

“I just called the ME’s office,” said Chief Alec, “and they told me they’re expecting the results from the autopsy sometime this morning.”

The chief, a mainstay in this town for over thirty years, was the embodiment of law and order. He was also a very large man, easily twice as big as the man seated across from him. Everyone knew him as a kind-hearted, fair-minded police officer, never one to throw his weight around. He liked to settle disputes with a smile and a kindly word, ever the courteous diplomat.

And then it dawned on me. Autopsy? Had someone died? I turned my antennae-like ears toward the window, my eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Good thing Adele Pun found the body. The poor guy might never have been found otherwise,” said the one I assumed was Chase Kingsley.

“You’re right about that, Chase,” grunted the chief.

Bingo! I stared at Brutus’s owner, and couldn’t resist uttering a growl.

“That body was never meant to be found, and if the Pun woman hadn’t gone snooping around, the killer would have pulled off the perfect crime.”

I blinked. Killer? Crime? Oh. My. God. They were talking murder!

“So how did Adele Pun discover the body?” asked Chase.

The chief barked a curt, humorless laugh.“Well, that’s a writer for you, Chase. They will go sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

At this, the chief directed a long, lingering look at me, and I froze. Not that I minded too much. Chief Alec was Odelia’s uncle on her mother’s side, after all, and I was pretty sure he was aware of his sister and niece’s secret.

He looked away again, and continued his story.“She says she was taking a dump a couple of days ago and suddenly started wondering where the product of her bowel movements went. Curious, she went and got herself a flashlight, to examine the bottom of the well, and shone it down into the abyss where generations of Hampton Covians have done their thing.”

“You should have been a poet, Chief,” remarked Chase dryly.

“Thank you. Imagine her surprise when she discovered a laptop sticking out of the tranquil surface of the brown pool below. Being a writer, holed up at a writer’s lodge, she naturally wondered what that laptop was doing there.”

Chase made a disgusted face.“Don’t tell me. She retrieved the laptop?”

The chief grinned.“She most certainly did. Though I have no idea how she did it. I imagine she used a shovel or a rake or something. Then she put the garden hose on it and dumped it into a bucket of salt for three days.”

“And what? It booted up?”

“It sure did. Just goes to show those cheap Korean laptops are a lot sturdier than you’d give them credit for. Reminds me never to spend two thousand bucks on a computer ever again.”

“And that’s how she discovered it was Paulo Frey’s laptop.”

“Yes, sir. None other than the elusive Mr. Frey.”

“The missing writer.”

“The missing writer,” the chief agreed.

I almost fell off the sill at this point. Paulo Frey was a famous novelist who’d gone missing some time last year. He’d been in the habit of renting the Writer’s Lodge once a year, a fixed-up old cabin in the woods on the edge of Hampton Cove. It was popular with writers, as there were no distractions out there, and they could work on their masterpieces undisturbed. There was even an old-fashioned outhouse, which for some reason seemed to appeal to the writing classes. Many a writer confessed they got their best ideas while seated on the john and allowing nature to run its course. Weird but true.

Paulo Frey had been one of those writers who felt they could only write a decent novel while ensconced at the Writer’s Lodge, pecking away at his laptop. Until he’d mysteriously vanished. The owner of the lodge—Hetta Fried—a patron of the arts—had assumed he’d simply skipped town, but when he hadn’t shown up in New York, his relatives had sounded the alarm.

The cabin had been thoroughly searched, but Paulo hadn’t left a trace, so no foul play was assumed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t pulled a stunt like this before. Once he’d upped and left and had shown up six months later in Zimbabwe, living quietly in a hut in the jungle, trying to cure a severe case of writer’s block. He was one of those eccentric writers, the ones they make movies about with Johnny Depp in the lead.

“So Adele notified the police,” said Chase.

“She notified me,” the chief acknowledged. “At which point we decided to take a closer look at that outhouse.”

Chase shook his head.“That must be the last outhouse on Long Island.”

“It may very well be,” the chief agreed. “It’s garnered a lot of praise from writers. Supposed to give them ideas. Kinda like a wishing well. You drop in a nickel and you get to make a wish. Only here you drop in something else.”

“So when did you get the idea to dredge the well?”

“Well, at first we figured Frey had simply hurled his laptop into the pit in a fit of rage or something. Which would fit with the writer’s block theory.” The chief shifted his bulk, making his chair creak dangerously. “But after poking around in there for a bit, something else came bobbing up.” He fixed Chase with a knowing glance. “An arm.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. So we called in a cesspool pumping service and found—”

“Paulo Frey.”

“Along with all of his stuff, stuffed into three Louis Vuitton suitcases. All packed and ready to go… nowhere. Looks like whoever killed him wanted to make it look like he skipped town, while he was stuffed down there all along.”

“I wouldn’t like to be the ME on this one,” said Chase, wrinkling his nose.

“You said it,” said the chief, shaking his head. “This is one messy business.”

“When will you know more?”

The chief checked the clock over the door. It was one of those clocks that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a classroom. “Shouldn’t be long now. We don’t get a lot of homicides here, so they’ve given this their highest priority. I’m expecting a call before lunch.” He patted the desk. “So what about it, Chase? Are you ready to work your first Hampton Cove homicide case?”

Chase grinned.“Throwing me in at the deep end, huh, Chief?”

“Best way to learn, buddy.”

“What better way indeed?”

At this point in the conversation, I hopped down from the windowsill and landed gracefully on all fours on the flagged floor. I’d heard enough. A genuine homicide! In Hampton Cove! This was a scoop that needed to be on the front page of the next edition of theHampton Cove Gazette. Pronto! And who better to break the story to our loyal readership than star reporter Odelia Poole herself? This would cement her reputation as the town’s best-informed reporter. Wait till I told her about this. She’d be over the moon.

And wait was exactly what I had to do, for as I made my way to the street, I found my passage blocked by a stocky, burly black cat with evil green eyes. Brutus!

“Snooping around, are we, Max?” he asked in a sneering manner. At that moment he suddenly reminded me of Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter’s nemesis.

Oh, God. This was exactly what I needed right now. Not!

“Step aside, Brutus,” I told the cat. “This is none of your business.”

But Brutus didn’t make a move to let me pass. Instead, he walked right up to me and got in my face. “If anyone is getting involved in stuff that isn’t his business, it’s you, Max. I saw you, you know, spying on Chief Alec and Chase. So that’s how you do things in this town, huh? You’re Odelia Poole’s personal spy. I knew there was a reason she was always getting the best scoops. And now I know her secret. Wait till I tell Chase all about this!”

A chill suddenly settled around the base of my spine.“How are you going to do that, Brutus? You can’t talk to your human like I can talk to mine.”

Oh, crap. Had I just said that? Bad Max!

He grinned evilly, like Bruce the shark from that fish movie Odelia likes to watch when she’s babysitting one of her cousins.

“So youcan talk to humans,” he said slowly. “I thought as much. I only arrived yesterday, but already I’ve heard the rumors this Odelia Poole person is a little… shall we say weird? And now you’ve confirmed my suspicions.”

“Well, you still can’t do anything with that information,” I challenged him. My claws were itching to get a piece of his fur, but I restrained myself. I may be big, but that doesn’t mean I’m all lean muscle like Brutus and Chase. My bulk mainly consists of, um, well, love handles. Lots and lots of love handles.

“Maybe I can’t talk to my human,” he conceded, “but I can make your life a lot more difficult. I can prevent you from snooping around and listening to conversations that aren’t intended for your spying ears.”

Horrified, I cried,“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, yes, I can,” he said, that nasty grin still firmly in place. He reared up to his full height, puffing up his chest like the nasty bully he was. “Listen up, Max. From now on the police station is off limits to you and your buddies.”

“What?! You have no right!”

“Oh, yes, I do. Chase Kingsley is the law in this town now, which, by extension, makes me the law, too. So I can do whatever I want and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“It doesn’t work like that! It’s not because your human is a cop that you’re also one. That’s just crazy talk!”

“I can assure you that’s exactly how it works, Max,” he grunted.

“No, it’s not. Harriet’s human is a doctor. That doesn’t make her capable of performing brain surgery, does it? And, and…” I cast around wildly. “Dooley’s human is this town’s biggest gossip. That doesn’t mean he’s a gossip, too. Oh, wait, actually it does. Dooley is a pretty big gossip. But that’s neither here nor there. You’re not a cop, Brutus. Cats simply can’t be cops!”

“Well, you can’t, obviously,” he scoffed. “You’re not trained to uphold the law. I, on the other hand, am. Chase used to be the NYPD’s biggest and baddest detective, and I learned a lot from watching him in action.”

“That’s just a load of—”

“Hey!” Brutus yelled, holding up a warning paw, claws extended. “Watch it, pal. You want me to arrest you for contempt of cop? No? Didn’t think so!”

“Contempt of cop? That’s not even a thing!”

“I’m sure it is,” he assured me, giving his nose a lick.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not. You’re simply making this up on the spot.”

I tried to sidestep the overbearing cat, but he got in my face again, and hissed,“You’re not trespassing again, Max. This is your final warning.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” I challenged him, my tail rearing up and puffing up while I arched my back menacingly.

“Don’t make me fight you, Max,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “You don’t want me to hurt you. I’m warning you.”

I backed down. What? Have you ever stared into the slitted eyes of the meanest, biggest, nastiest cat you’ve ever seen? Let me tell you, it’s scary!

“This was your final warning, Max,” he growled, and casually displayed three sets of razor-sharp claws and gave me a mock punch on the shoulder.

I gulped. Those claws looked very sharp indeed. So I decided not to get into a fight with this cat. I needed to figure out how to deal with him, but brute force wasn’t exactly my forte. That was obviously his department.

“Have it your way, Brutus,” I finally said.

“Always,” he said with a smug smile. “That’s something you will learn soon, Max. You and those other furballs that inhabit this stupid town.”

“Hampton Cove is not a stupid town!”

He merely grinned, and stalked off in the direction of the police station, presumably to find out what I’d found out.

Still shaking from the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I started heading for theHampton Cove Gazette. Boy, did I have news for Odelia.

Chapter 4

Before going to the office, Odelia decided to pass by her dad’s practice first. She wanted to check on Gran, who’d been feeling a little under the weather lately. She passed into the waiting room. As usual, there were already half a dozen patients patiently waiting to be called into her father’s examination room. Tex Poole had been Hampton Cove’s oneand only doctor for over thirty years, and was well-respected and well-liked by all.

She nodded a greeting to the small crowd, and quickly walked up to the reception desk, and was relieved to find the wizened old woman seated behind it, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she deftly handled the phone and the appointments book.

“Gran,” she said happily. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” asked the white-haired old lady crustily.

“Well, I heard you were feeling a little under the weather last night.”

The old lady lifted her chin.“Who told you that? That kind of information is strictly confidential. That’s between my physician and me.”

“Well, your physician is my dad,” she said. “So…”

“That doesn’t give him the right to go blabbing about my private affairs,” Gran grumbled. “I’ll have a word with that man.”

Odelia laughed.“He didn’t blab about anything, Gran. Mom told me last night you weren’t feeling well after dinner, so you went to bed early.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never felt better and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I’m just glad to see you’re fine.” The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with the feisty old lady, especially in front of half a dozen townies.

“I just had an upset tummy, that’s all. Nothing to get all worked up about.”

Odelia stared at her.“You don’t think it was my dessert, do you?”

She was the one who’d made dessert last night. Even though she lived alone, she still went home for dinner with her family most nights. It didn’t make much sense to cook for herself when she was just one person. She and Mom took turns cooking, with Gran chipping in from time to time. Last night had been Mom’s turn. She’d made grilled tuna, Odelia providing dessert.

But Gran waved her hand.“Don’t even think about it. That dessert was perfectly fine. I simply love chocolate pudding. Now state your business.”

She smiled.“Just checking up on you, Gran.”

“This is a doctor’s office, young lady, and we’ve got a lot of sick people waiting, so if you’re not sick or dying, please move along. No dillydallying.”

“Sure thing, Gran,” she said with a laugh. “Have a nice day.”

“Oh, I most definitely will,” Gran said, then hollered, “Next!”

She passed into the street feeling better already. The old lady might be feisty, but she was also vulnerable at her age, and she was glad to know she was fine. Next stop was the newspaper, and she’d just walked into her own small office when Max came tripping up.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “I thought you’d never show up.”

“And a good day to you too, Max,” she said as she took a seat.

“Oh, boy,” said Max, hopping onto the desk. “Have I got news for you!”

This morning ritual of theirs wasn’t unusual. Max might get most of his information from other cats, whom he met on his nocturnal excursions, but he often made a quick trip around town during the daytime as well, to see if he couldn’t pick up some nice tidbits of news here or there. The police station, especially, often rewarded them both with some great stories fit to print.

She needed to vet them, of course, and run them by the editor, Dan Goory, who’d been running this paper since before Odelia was born, but he trusted her, and never pressed her for her sources, knowing she wouldn’t reveal them anyway. And even if she did, she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

Weird thing about her uncanny knack was that it only seemed to work on cats. She’d tried talking to dogs, but they simply stared at her dumbly, then continued licking their butts or chasing their tails as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Tell me,” she said happily as she took her notebook and sat with pencil poised while Max spilled the latest news straight from the chief of police’s mouth. But when he’d finished his tale, she still hadn’t jotted down a word, too shocked at what he’d told her. “Paulo Frey? Murdered?” she gasped.

“Yep, and found at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge cesspit. The Medical Examiner is trying to figure out what killed him and Chief Alec is expecting his report sometime this morning. Only trouble is…”

“What?” she asked anxiously as she feverishly started taking notes. She needed to confirm all of this with the chief, but this was one hell of a story.

“I’ve been told not to go near the police station again.”

She looked up, startled.“What? Who told you?”

“Brutus,” he said bitterly. “That big brute that belongs to Chase Kingsley. He’s been throwing his weight around ever since he arrived in town. He says the police station is off-limits to me and my buddies from now on.”

She immediately recognized this for what it was: a clear and present danger to her job. If Max wasn’t allowed to sneak up to Chief Alec’s window and snap up any and all snippets of information, she was out of a very valuable news source. Not that her uncle Alec was secretive, or unwilling to share, but his niece wasn’t the first person he ran to when he had important information to share. Though he’d gotten used to her finding out anyway.

“Listen, Max,” she said earnestly. “Don’t let this cat boss you around. Tell him he’s got no business telling other cats where they can and can’t go.”

“That’s what I told him! But he threatened me with violence if I didn’t do what he said.” He sighed. “I told you. That cat’s a genuine bully.”

“This is an outrage!” she spat, jumping to her feet. “Who does he think he is, bossing others around like that?!”

“He thinks he’s the new cop in town, that’s who he thinks he is.”

“We’ll see about that,” grunted Odelia, and strode out of the office.

“Where are you going, Odelia?” asked Dan from his own office.

“The police station!” she yelled back. “I’ve got a scoop!” She quickly stuck her head into the old man’s office and grinned at him. Then she spoke the words she’d wanted to speak for a very long time. “Stop the presses, Dan. And hold the front page. I’ve got the scoop to end all scoops.”

“Oh? Whaddya got?”

Her eyes glittered with excitement.“A murder.”

“Murder in Hampton Cove!” cried the old editor, his glasses almost falling from his face as he shot up from behind his desk. “No way!”

“Yes, way,” she confirmed. “I’ll be back in a jiffy so hold that front page.”

“I sure will,” he said, a look of sheer happiness on his kindly hobbit face. The news that a murder had taken place might appall regular folk, but then reporters aren’t like regular folk, of course. To them, murder and mayhem are like music to their ears.

Odelia purposefully set foot for the police station, and thought about what Max had said about this Brutus character. It was time that Chase Kingsley taught his cat a few lessons in common courtesy. You didn’t just waltz into town and start bossing people around. That simply wasn’t done!

The police station was only half a block away from the Gazette, and it didn’t take her more than a few minutes to get there and waltz into the vestibule. Dolores gave her a little wave as she marched past the woman’s desk and through the short corridor to Chief Alec’s office.

She and the chief had developed a kind of working relationship over the years. He knew how important it was that the public be informed about the goings-on in this town, and that Odelia had a unique skill set that made her well-placed to report on anything going on in Hampton Cove. She knew stuff before anyone else did, and he helped her fill in the gaps and occasionally even enlisted her to help him on any small investigation he had running.

It also helped that he was her uncle, of course, and often sat down to dinner with them. Odelia’s mom had more or less taken him under her wing after his wife died, and he was now pretty much a fixture at the house, and enjoyed their cooking almost more than Dr. Poole himself.

So she simply barged into his office without knocking and said,“Hey, Uncle Alec. What’s all this I’m hearing about Paulo Frey being found at the bottom of a cesspit?”

Only now did she notice that there was a third person in the office, seated across from the chief. He was tall and lanky, with chiseled features and clear blue eyes. Those eyes now swiveled to her and took her in with a sharp look.

The chief had risen.“Um, Odelia, this is Chase Kingsley. Chase, this is my niece Odelia Poole. She’s a reporter with theHampton Cove Gazette.”

Chase’s eyes were still fixed on her, and judging from the expression on his face he wasn’t happy. “How the hell did you find out about Paulo Frey?”

The chief gave a feeble smile.“Odelia has her sources, don’t you, honey?”

“I sure have,” she said, taking a seat in the other chair, her notebook poised on her lap. “So is it true that you found all of his suitcases, his laptop and all of his belongings buried down there with the body?”

Chase shook his head.“Unbelievable,” he grunted.

She snapped her head up.“What’s unbelievable?”

“The way information gets leaked!” he cried, clearly incensed.

“The press has a right to know what’s going on in this town, Chase,” she said. “So I suggest you get used to it. The people have a right to know.”

“It’s Detective Kingsley to you,” he grumbled.

“We’re all friends here,” said the chief, holding up his hands placatingly. “And Odelia only writes her stories after checking them with me.”

“That still doesn’t explain how she knows about this case,” he insisted.

“A little birdie told me, all right? Now can you or can’t you confirm that Paulo Frey’s body was found at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge outhouse?”

“Yes, I can,” said the chief, casting a weary glance at Chase.

“Unbelievable,” huffed Chase again, shaking his head.

She turned on the man.“This is the way we do things in this town.”

“It’s certainly different from the way we handle things in the city,” he said, giving her a very stern look. “In fact I can’t even imagine any nosy reporter ever barging into the office of the NYPD commissioner and dictating terms.”

“I’m not dictating terms,” she gritted out. “I’m merely trying to get confirmation on some basic facts pertaining to this case.”

“A case you have no business sticking your nose into.”

“It is my business because I choose to make it my business.”

“Oh? Last time I checked you weren’t on the police payroll, Miss Poole.”

“Odelia is part of the family, Chase,” said Chief Alec, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “We’re all on the same page here. One great team.”

He held up his hands.“All right, Chief. But I still think it’s highly unorthodox, and if I were you I’d reconsider the leeway you’re granting her.”

“Well, you’re not me, son,” said the chief with a smile.

“Yes, Detective Kingsley, you’re not the chief of police in this town,” said Odelia. “So please stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, for the man’s eyes were shooting fire now. Blue sheets of flame. In fact they now reminded her of twin laser beams, doing their utmost to blast through her skull and incinerate her on the spot. She swallowed. She had the impression it wasn’t wise to be on his bad side.

Chief Alec cleared his throat noisily.“So, about Paulo Frey. I can confirm that we found his body at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge outhouse well and that it’s been transferred to the ME’s office for an autopsy.”

“Do you think he fell down that well by accident?”

“Considering the fact that his luggage, his clothes, his laptop and all of his other stuff were also down there, I think it’s safe to say he was murdered. But like I said, it’s all up to the Medical Examiner now to know for sure.”

“Do you have any leads on the killer?”

“None yet.”

“When did he disappear again? I seem to remember sometime last year?”

“It’s been over a year,” the chief confirmed, then shook his head. “It’s going to be very hard to figure out what exactly happened.”

She thought she understood. After such a long time there probably wasn’t much left of the body. “Did you…” She swallowed. “Did you see the body?”

He nodded, a grim set to his face.“Yes, I did. We had to disassemble the outhouse and get the cesspool pumping guys in there. Took us the better part of yesterday to do that. The body was pretty decomposed when we finally found it at the bottom. Practically all that’s left is a skeleton with some remnants of skin and hair.” He sighed. “Not a pretty sight, Odelia.”

“So how do you know it’s Paulo Frey?”

“Well, we found his ID, laptop, smartphone, luggage… Hard to tell from the body, of course. But I’m pretty sure dental records will back us up.”

“And DNA.”

“Yeah, if necessary they’ll do a DNA test, I’m sure. But I think dental will provide adequate proof of identity, and much quicker, too.”

“Crap, Uncle Alec. A real murder in Hampton Cove.”

“Yeah, it’s a nasty business,” he agreed. “A very nasty business indeed.”

“You don’t get a lot of murders down here?” asked Chase.

“None,” said Odelia and Chief Alec simultaneously.

“This is a very peaceful town, Detective Kingsley,” said Odelia. “In fact I wonder what a big city cop like you is doing down here.”

“I have my reasons,” he immediately cut her off.

“Let’s just say that Chase here needed a change of pace,” said the chief pacifically. “And we’re mighty glad he chose Hampton Cove. The NYPD’s loss is definitely our gain,” he stressed, giving Odelia a keen look. “We need men like Chase on the force. None of us are getting any younger.”

Crap. Was Uncle Alec thinking about retiring and appointing Chase Kingsley his replacement? Then she’d just antagonized the next chief.

She nodded, and a look of understanding passed between herself and her uncle. She would cut the new detective some slack. But then she remembered something else, and turned to Chase again.“Could you please do something about that cat of yours, Detective Kingsley?”

His eyebrows shot up.“My… cat?”

“Yes. He’s been throwing his weight around all over town, scaring the local cats and behaving as if he owns the place. More specifically, he’s been terrorizing my own cat Max. Really behaving like a genuine bully.”

Chase’s eyebrows shot up even further into his fringe. “Your cat Max.”

She nodded seriously.“He’s chased him out of the park…” She was going to add he’d also barred Max access to the police station, but stopped herself.

The chief coughed.“Odelia loves her cat, don’t you, honey?”

Chase barked an incredulous laugh.“I don’t believe this. You’re telling me that my cat is bullying your cat?”

She pursed her lips.“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can’t simply barge into town and start throwing your weight around, Detective Kingsley.”

He rolled his eyes.“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“So you better have a talk with your cat and tell him to behave, all right?”

Chase threw up his hands.“Sure! Of course! Why not? I’ll ‘talk’ to my cat. Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Miss Poole? Tell my begonias not to take up so much space in my garden? Cause God knows they shouldn’t simply barge in here and start bullying other plants in other gardens!”

“You’re making fun of me now,” she said, eyeing him darkly.

“No,you’re making fun ofme!” he snapped, then turned away from her, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘Who the heck do you think I am? Doctor frickin’ Dolittle?’

“Well, that’s settled then,” said the chief, placing his hands on his desk. He was looking uncomfortable. “Chase will have a word with his cat, and—”

“—as soon as you hear from the ME’s office—”

“—I’ll be sure to give you a call,” he finished with a wide smile.

“Of course you will,” Chase added with another eye roll.

She turned.“You’ll soon find that down here in Hampton Cove we do things differently than in the big city, Detective Kingsley,” she snapped.

“You don’t say,” he muttered.

“So I suggest you get used to it,” she added, and without deigning him another glance, swept from the office and slammed the door behind her.

Chapter 5

I decided to return to the house and regroup. This whole business with Brutus had thrown me for a loop. If you can’t even go where you want in your own town, it’s a sad state of affairs. So when I arrived in my own backyard again, I felt both relieved—this was most definitely my domain and no domineering cat could tell me otherwise—and annoyed, for I suddenly felt cooped up for the first time in my life. When you’re a free roaming spirit and suddenly you’re forcibly confined to your own backyard, it’s not much fun.

I suddenly felt what prisoners must feel like once they find themselves locked up in Guantanamo Bay. I even had the orange jumpsuit to go with my current position. Well, not the jumpsuit, maybe. But definitely the right color.

The moment I set foot in my yard, Harriet and Dooley came trotting up. I swear they have a sixth sense about these things. Or maybe they simply gab a lot. Word spreads fast in our small Hampton Cove cat community.

“What happened?” asked Harriet. She appeared genuinely worried, which felt like balm to my wounded pride.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Dooley asked. “I heard you got kicked out of the police station by that brute Brutus?”

“And is it true that a man was murdered?” asked Harriet, eyes wide.

“How do you guys even know about that?”

“Well, Stacy Brown’s cat witnessed the standoff between you and Brutus, and Father Reilly’s tabby Shanille was out snooping around the Writer’s Lodge yesterday,” said Harriet, studying her paw intently. “The place was crawling with cops, and next thing she knew an ambulance rode up and took away what looked like a corpse. She had to move upwind at some point, as the place was stinking to high heaven.” She wrinkled her nose. “Shanille said they found the body in the lodge’s poo-poo pit.”

“It’s true,” I confirmed. “They found the body of that writer that went missing last year. Paulo Frey, remember? He used to stay at the lodge at least once a year, to write his bestsellers, and last year vanished without a trace.”

“So they found him, huh?” asked Dooley, licking his butt. All this talk about poo-poo had apparently inspired him to have a taste of his own poo-poo pit. What can I say? Us cats are a very suggestible bunch.

“So what happened? Did he commit suicide? Jump into the pit?” asked Harriet, her green eyes glittering with excitement. “Why would he do that?”

“Humans love poo-poo,” said Dooley wisely. “He must have wanted to take a bath in the stuff and accidentally drowned. It’s the latest craze.”

I stared at him.“What are you talking about?”

“The latest craze!” he repeated. “Out in Hollywood they take baths in their own poo-poo now. It’s supposed to rejuvenate the skin. And that’s not the only thing. They even drink their own pee-pee,” he added knowingly. “First thing in the morning. It’s like a tonic or something. Juice of life stuff.”

“That’s crazy talk,” I said. “Nobody takes a bath in their own poo-poo, except maybe for pigs, but that’s just because they don’t know any better.”

“Duh. Pigs are dumb,” said Harriet. “Everybody knows that.”

Yes, I know. We’re not averse to pig shaming. Sue us.

“No, I’m telling you, Max. It’s a real thing,” said Dooley. “Celebs smear their own poop on their faces all the time. It’s been on that website POOP.”

“GOOP,” Harriet corrected. “Not POOP, Dooley. GOOP.”

Gwyneth Paltrow’s website was a hit with Hampton Covians as she was a local girl done good. I’d never met her, as she spent most of her time in Amagansett, but I was a fan, and so were all the other cats. Her site often featured articles on what cats are thinking. Rubbish, of course, but very droll.

“I’m pretty sure Gwyneth would never propagate something silly like smearing poop on your face,” I said, though maybe she would. The things that celebrities did to stay young was frankly amazing.

“It’s a thing,” Dooley insisted, giving his butthole another lick.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Paulo Frey didn’t take a bath in his own poop. He was killed and then his body was dumped in there so nobody would find out. At least that’s what the police think. Since they also found his laptop in there, and all his belongings.” I cocked an eye at Dooley. “If he wanted to take a poop bath, would he have jumped in with his laptop?”

Dooley shrugged.“Maybe he wanted to take notes while he was doing it? Writers are crazy, buddy. Maybe he was researching the perfect murder, decided to try out this poo thing for himself and got in way over his head.”

Harriet laughed.“That’s actually funny, Dooley. Way over his head.”

Dooley gave her a blank stare. He obviously didn’t get his own pun.

Dooley was right, though. Writers were a little crazy. Year after year they came to the Writer’s Lodge to hatch up their harebrained plots, roaming the woods muttering to themselves, or soaking in the Jacuzzi Hetta had installed for their benefit, staring up at the sky and begging the gods of creativity to help them out when they got stuck again. So yeah, they were a crazy bunch, but not so crazy to jump into the toilet with all of their belongings, almost as if they were jumping into a Hot Tub Time Machine, hoping to be transported to another time and place. No, this case had the stench of foul play all over it.

“He was killed,” I said adamantly. “The Chief is sure of it. Now all he needs is cause and time of death, which the medical examiner will hopefully figure out from what’s left of the body, and he can start his investigation.”

“Who’s running the investigation?” asked Harriet. “Is it true that Chief Alec is handing it to the dreamboat?”

“How do you even know about that?” I asked. I was starting to wonder if all my snooping around the police office was even necessary. If Harriet could find out as much as I had simply by talking to other cats, what was the point?

“Well, it’s only common sense,” she said. “Chase used to be NYPD, after all, so what better person to run a murder investigation than him, right?”

“Yeah, what about that?” asked Dooley, nodding. “A genuine NYPD cop. How cool is that, huh?”

“Way cool,” Harriet agreed with a grin.

“If he’s so cool, what is he doing here?” I asked. “Why didn’t he simply stay in New York with the big boys?” It was a question that begged asking. If this hotshot detective was so cool, why choose to bury himself in a small town like Hampton Cove, where the homicide rate was probably close to zero?

Harriet stared at me.“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“Well, he was fired.”

“Fired! But why?” Now this was news. If I’d known this before, I could have told Odelia. Make sure she didn’t do something stupid like fall for him.

Harriet slowly and methodically started licking her paw and then rubbing it across her face.“Gross misconduct. At least that’s what Shanille said, who heard it from Trudy, Lora Escort’s cat, who’d read it in theNew York Post.”

“That’s impossible,” I scoffed. “If Chase Kingsley was fired for gross misconduct, he would never be able to work as a cop again, not even in Hampton Cove. No,” I mused, “it must be something else.”

“Shanille was pretty adamant. And you know tabloids never lie.”

“Right. They wouldn’t dare,” I said. Could it be? Could Chase have been a bad boy? Why else would he accept a job here? Not for the excitement. Unless riding around on a dune buggy was Chase’s idea of excitement.

“What’s gross misconduct?” asked Dooley. “I mean, is it really gross?”

“Something about the wife of a suspect,” said Harriet. “She claims Chase molested her during an interrogation, so she filed charges against him. He was consequently suspended pending an investigation, and eventually forced to hand in his gun and badge, his employment effectively terminated.”

I stared at her.“He was discharged for molestation and you still think he’s a dreamboat?”

“I don’t believe it, all right?” she said, holding up her paw, then continuing to groom the left side of her face. “I’m sure he was framed.”

“Framed?” I asked, incredulous.

“It happens all the time. Supercop gets framed. At least that’s what Brutus says and I happen to believe him.”

“Brutus says his human was framed,” I said blankly. Now I’d heard it all.

“Yes, he did. He said he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, and so they set him up to destroy his credibility. It happens all the time,” she added when she caught my dubious look. “Successful people often get a lot of flak. And I’m sure this woman who accused him must have perjured herself.”

“Ouch. That must have hurt,” said Dooley.

“Perjured, Dooley,” I said automatically. “Not injured.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, go away,” I muttered, thinking hard. This changed matters entirely. If this was true, and I didn’t doubt it since Brutus himself had confirmed the story, Odelia had to be warned. I was sure that once she found out she’d never want to come near the guy. Which solved the Brutus situationnicely.

“I’m telling Odelia,” I said. “She needs to know who she’s dealing with.”

Harriet sighed.“I was afraid of this. Can’t you just let it go, Max?”

“Let it go! Are you nuts?!”

“Why can’t you just give Odelia a shot at real happiness? I’m sure that she and Chase are simply made for each other. Two beautiful people like that? It’s a match made in heaven. The moment they walk down the aisle together, we’ll all be family.” She sighed again, wistfully this time. “You, me, Dooley… Brutus… just one big, happy, family.”

“One big happy family with Brutus? I don’t think so!” I cried. “The cat kicked me out of the police station! Actually forbade me to even go there. How can I do my job if I can’t even eavesdrop on the Chief? It’s an outrage!”

“He was only doing his duty,” said Harriet a little stiffly. It was obvious that nothing could convince her that Brutus, and by extension Chase Kingsley, were bad news.

“You can’t still like that cat,” I said, outraged. “He actually threatened me with violence if I ever come near the police station again. Violence!”

Which, now that I knew what kind of guy Chase was, wasn’t surprising.

“That’s wasn’t very nice,” Dooley said, with a tentative look at Harriet.

But Harriet wasn’t convinced. “I’m sure he simply feels he’s doing his duty, Max. If only more cats were like Brutus, the world would be a better, safer place.”

“The world would be a Nazi prison camp and Brutus would run it,” I said, shaking my head. I simply couldn’t understand how she could still defend that cat. He was a menace to our community. “I think we should all get together and take a vote,” I said now. “Have Brutus expelled. We simply cannot allow him to come here and try to take over. A line has been crossed.”

“You’re simply jealous,” Harriet challenged.

“Jealous!” I cried. “Of that clown! As if! All I’m doing is protecting my human from a terrible fate. Is that so wrong?”

“No, you’re doing the right thing, Max,” said Dooley, who was still casting anxious glances at Harriet, whom he obviously seemed to consider the real authority here, and not me, which offended me to some extent. But then Dooley had always drooled over Harriet ever since the three of us met, many years ago. His attempts at wooing her have always failed, though. Harriet doesn’t like just any cat. It takes a special cat to touch her heart, and apparently in Brutus she’d found just such a cat.

A horrible thought entered my mind.“You’re not thinking of getting together with Brutus, are you?” I asked, horrified. The thought of a litter of little Brutuses was too much to bear.

She gave me a dark look.“Please, Max. You know they… fixed me,” she added in hushed tones. The disgrace of being spayed still weighed heavy on her. Before, she’d been able to produce a sizable litter a couple of times a year, but then Odelia’s mom had taken matters into her own hands and had her fixed. The same way Odelia had had me neutered and Gran had had Dooley neutered as well. I loved my human, and so did Dooley and Harriet, but it was almost as if they didn’t want more cats brought into this world. As if they didn’t enjoy the sight of a litter full of little kittens, gamboling about.

Except for little Brutuses. I drew the line firmly at a litter of Brutuses.

“I think we should continue this investigation ourselves,” I now said, deciding to change the subject. “If it’s true that Chase was dishonorably discharged from the NYPD, I can’t imagine he’s fit to lead this investigation.”

“So we do it ourselves?” asked Dooley excitedly.

“We do it ourselves,” I confirmed. “We catch that killer.”

“I don’t know, Max,” said Harriet dubiously. “Do you think we’re up for it? I mean, we’ve never done anything like this before. It might be dangerous.”

“We owe it to Hampton Cove to catch any killer that might be lurking in our community,” I said solemnly. “And we need to make sure that the Writer’s Lodge is once again safe for writers to scribble their horrible drivel.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” said Harriet pensively.

“Do you really think writers are going to avoid the Writer’s Lodge as long as that killer isn’t caught?” asked Dooley.

“I’m sure no writer wants to take up residence at a lodge where only recently one of his kind has been gruesomely murdered. At least not as long as the killer is still lurking out in those woods, looking for another victim.”

“Stephen King might like it,” Dooley said. “It might give him inspiration for another one of his horror stories.”

“Yes,” I amended, “Stephen King might like it.”

“Or George R. R. Martin,” Harriet said. “He’d probably love the idea of a writer being whacked in his favorite writing environment. I’m sure he’d get a kick out of it, and it might even induce him to speed up his writing.”

“Yes, George might get a kick out of it, too,” I agreed.

“And what about J.K. Rowling?” asked Dooley. “She loves a good horror story. Ooh! Maybe Voldemort killed Paulo Frey! Back from the dead!”

“Right. As if a fictional character can really kill a writer,” I said. “All right. I’ll concede that there are certain writers that wouldn’t mind staying at a lodge where a writer was killed, but apart from those few, I’m sure most writers will think twice before selecting the Writer’s Lodge as their next destination. Which means Hetta Fried stands to lose her livelihood, and Hampton Cove a time-honored tradition of hosting famous celebrity writers.”

“And the liquor store a great deal of business,” Dooley added.

He was right. A lot of these writers liked to raid the liquor store before starting a new book. Copious amounts of alcohol were apparently a surefire way of beating writer’s block, or at least they liked to think so.

“I feel it is our sacred duty as residents of Hampton Cove to find out who killed Paulo Frey and bring them to justice,” I said, pumping up my chest.

“I agree. Let’s find ourselves a killer,” Harriet said, momentarily halting her grooming efforts—it takes a lot of work to keep that snowy white fur looking as perfectly fluffy and clean as hers does. She held up her paw.

I placed my own blorange paw against hers, and Dooley raised his.

“We solemnly swear to catch a killer and bring him or her to justice,” we all intoned, and then let go, satisfied we’d made a momentous pledge.

“So when do we start?” asked Dooley.

“Tonight,” I said, yawning. I needed my beauty sleep. It had been too long since I got some shuteye and I was starting to feel a serious nap coming on.

“Yes,” Harriet agreed. “Let’s take a long nap and meet up tonight.”

And showing she wasn’t joking, she immediately trotted off in the direction of her own yard, stared after by Dooley and me.

“Um, can I sleep in your crib, buddy?” asked Dooley.

“Why? Don’t you have enough space over at your place?”

Dooley gave me a hesitant look.“It’s not that. It’s just that…”

“Spit it out, man. What is it? Did Harriet take all the best spots again?”

He nodded sheepishly. That was the trouble when you lived in the same house as a Persian. They liked to think they were lord of the manor. Queen of the castle. Ruler of the realm. Reducing all others to playing second fiddle.

“Sure,” I said. “You can sleep on my couch today. Now let’s get our eighteen hours in before we go and catch ourselves a killer.”

Chapter 6

The moment Odelia returned to the newspaper, she drew up a list of people to interview. She wanted not just to solve this murder, but to write a series of articles that would have Hampton Covians sticking to their newspapers like glue, reading with rapt attention as their intrepid reporter led them, clue by clue, to the revelation of the identity of the killer who’d snuffed out one of their own. Well, technically Paulo Frey hadn’t been one of their own, of course. He was a New Yorker who spent a couple of weeks a year out here, but still, since Hampton Cove was a tourist town, tourists were as much a part of the community as the locals who lived here year-round.

Besides, even in the heart of winter tourists stayed in town, as the tourist board had added a couple of winter events to the schedule, in hopes of making the town more attractive when the weather turned inclement.

They organized a Winterfest now, and a Christmas market with an ice rink. It worked, for even in winter tourists made their way out here, though of course not as many as when the sun was out, and the beaches were full of people cavorting in the surf and enjoying all-night parties on the beach.

The only one who didn’t care for the new winter activities was Chief Alec, who now had to round up drunk revelers all year, and not just during the summer.

“So? Got yourself a genuine murder case, huh?” Dan asked, leaning against the doorjamb. He was sipping from his umpteenth cup of coffee and looked genuinely excited, as excited as she was feeling herself. He was a shortish man in his late sixties, with an impressive white beard and plenty of laugh wrinkles around his eyes, which always seemed to twinkle with delight.

“Yup. This is the big one, Dan. Famous bestselling writer gets whacked and dumped in the can. This is going to get national headlines, I’m sure.”

“Do they have a suspect?” asked the veteran editor.

“Not yet. Uncle Alec is putting Chase Kingsley in charge.”

This caused the editor’s bushy brows to wiggle with surprise. “Chase Kingsley? The new guy?”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be this hotshot detective from New York. Apparently he used to work for the NYPD, so he’s well qualified.”

“Used to work being the operative word,” said the editor.

She stared at him.“What do you mean?”

All she knew about the guy was that he had an annoying cat, and that he seemed to hate reporters. Or it could be that he just hated her, of course.

Dan looked over his shoulder, as if fully expecting Detective Kingsley to have walked into the office to eavesdrop on their private conversation.

“What I’ve heard is that Chase Kingsley didn’t quit the NYPD but was forced out.” He lowered his brows and grumbled in a low voice, “Fired for gross misconduct is what I heard. Molestation of a suspect’s wife.”

“Molestation!” she cried, her jaw dropping. “No way!”

He shook his head sadly.“All I know is what was printed in thePost.”

“ThePost?” she asked, reaching for her laptop. This she had to see.

“Stacy Brown got it from Lora Escort, who read it in the paper a couple of months ago and remembered the name. I doubt that Alec even knows about this, otherwise he probably would never have hired him in the first place.” His voice took on a grave tone. “If the rumors are true he actually molested the wife of a suspect while the guy was in custody, and she pressed charges against him, apparently not too keen on being manhandled by a cop.”

She stared at the editor, fully aghast.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dan shrugged.“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“But why would Uncle Alec hire a guy like that?”

“Like I said, he probably doesn’t even know about it.”

“That’s impossible. Nobody hires a cop without checking his credentials.”

“Maybe he lied on his resume.”

“I find it hard to believe Uncle Alec wouldn’t check his references. The NYPD is only a phone call away. No, I’m sure he knows about Chase Kingsley’s past and simply chose to ignore it.” She frowned. “But why?”

“Beats me. I just know that that uncle of yours has got a really big heart, Odelia. Maybe he felt sorry for the guy? Hell, I’m not saying he’s not a good cop. Everyone seems to agree he was one hell of a detective. But with a thing like that hanging over his head, his chances of ever working as a cop again were slim to nonexistent.”

“Except in Hampton Cove.” If she hadn’t been furious with him before, she was furious now. Molestation charges were not to be taken lightly.

“Except in Hampton Cove, apparently,” Dan agreed with a nod.

“I have to talk to Uncle Alec about this. We can’t have a man like that working for the HCPD. Especially with the entire town knowing about his sordid past. How can he expect to assume a position of authority?”

“Well, we don’t know if the allegations are true, Odelia. For all we know the charges were unfounded and he was forced out anyway.”

“I don’t think the NYPD would let him go if the charges were unfounded,” she argued. “No, this is serious stuff, Dan. If this is true, we can’t have a man like that working as a police officer in our town.”

“You better have that talk with your Uncle Alec. Thresh this thing out once and for all.” He grinned at her. “So now you’ve got yourself two stories to dig into, huh? A murder and a bad cop. This is your lucky day, honey.”

Chapter 7

Ten minutes later, she waltzed into her dad’s medical practice again, and walked straight up to the desk. Gran, who’d been playing Scrabble online, eyed her disapprovingly. She didn’t like being interrupted when she was on a winning streak. “I told you. I’m fine. It was just a stomach bug. I’m all right.”

“Good to know,” she said, panting slightly. “Is Rohanna still here?”

Gran raised her eyebrows, then gestured with her head to one of the examination rooms.“In there. What do you want with her?”

Odelia dropped her voice to a whisper.“There’s been a murder, and I’m writing the story. Remember that writer who disappeared last year?”

“That nutcase?” asked Gran, making no effort to lower her voice.

“Yeah, that nutcase,” she whispered. “Well, he didn’t disappear. He was murdered. They just dredged up his body from the Writer’s Lodge outhouse.”

“You don’t say,” said Gran, licking her lips with obvious glee. “And you think Rohanna did it?”

“No, I don’t. But I remember she also works for Hetta, keeping the Writer’s Lodge clean. So I just figured she might be a good place to start my investigation. Maybe she saw something or remembers something.”

“I highly doubt it,” said Gran, pursing her lips. “The woman is batty.”

“Why do you think she’s batty?” she asked after a pause. Gran sometimes had a habit of judging people too harshly, and being very vocal about it.

“Because she keeps singing to herself, that’s why. I caught her at it a couple of times.” She leaned closer, but still spoke loud enough so that everyone in the waiting room could hear her. “She sings to herself and wiggles that enormous butt of hers while she works. Can you believe it?”

Odelia smiled.“Plenty of people sing while they work, Gran.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“It’s because you have to answer the phone, and talk to people. Rohanna listens to music and sings along just to make the work go faster.”

“I’m telling you, the woman is batty. Either you work, or you shake your ass. You can’t do both, unless you’re an exotic dancer, and trust me, no one is going to pay good money to watch Rohanna Coral strip and hug a pole.”

“Gran!”

“What? It’s true.”

Shaking her head, Odelia went in search of Rohanna. She checked examination room number two, which served as a backup in case Dad’s workload became too much, and he called in the assistance of a colleague from one of the neighboring towns. She found Rohanna, earbuds in her ears, softly humming along with the music, shaking her tush, just like Gran said.

She was a large woman, and had a considerable tush to shake around, that was true enough, though Odelia didn’t see anything wrong with a woman enjoying her work. She tried to catch Rohanna’s attention, and finally walked up to her and gave her a tap on the shoulder. Rohanna removed the earbuds and eyed her askance, as if to say, ‘Whaddya want?’

“Hey, Rohanna,” she said. “Sorry to trouble you, but could I ask you a couple of questions about Paulo Frey and the Writer’s Lodge?”

If the name was familiar to the cleaning lady, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she frowned and asked, “Who?”

“Paulo Frey? He was one of the writers who used to stay at the Writer’s Lodge. One of the regulars. He disappeared last year.”

Her frown deepened. It was obvious she didn’t like to be interrupted while working. Or perhaps her favorite song had been on, and she hated to miss the opportunity to sing along. “I remember him,” she finally said. “Isn’t he the skinny one who writes those gruesome thrillers?”

“He was a thriller writer,” she confirmed. Whether he was skinny was up for debate. Judging from the pictures she’d googled he looked pretty average.

“What about him? Did he finally decide to show up again?”

“Well, he did show up,” she said, wondering how to break the news gently. “Um, Rohanna, you might want to sit down for this.” She gestured at one of the chairs and Rohanna, shaking her head and clearly not happy about this, did as she was told.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

In a few carefully chosen words she explained that the police had fished the body of Paulo Frey out of the cesspit, and Rohanna was understandably shaken. She placed a hand on her voluminous chest, which was heaving dangerously.“Dead?” she cried, her voice rising. “He’s dead? But how?”

“He was murdered, Rohanna,” she said gently. “Someone murdered him and tried to hide the body.”

“Oh, my God,” she said, her face a mask of distress. “He was such a nice man. A great tipper. Used to leave me a sizable tip at the end of his stay. Said I was the best, on account of the fact that I always left a bottle of bourbon on his pillow when he arrived. Hetta wants me to leave chocolates, and I usually do, but Paulo told me the first year he hated chocolate. So I always left him one of those small bottles of bourbon.”

“I see,” she said. “So he was fond of drink, huh?”

But Rohanna wasn’t listening. She shook her head. “He was always full of stories and jokes. A real live wire. Whenever I was down at the lodge he used to tell me stories of his writing career. The most hilarious stuff. He once told me he had dinner with the President and the First Lady at the White House, and he and the President got drunk and decided to play golf on the White House lawn. In the middle of the night!” She looked up at Odelia. “Whodunit, Miss Poole? You tell me whodunit and I’ll kill the bastard.”

“They don’t know yet. The police only found the body yesterday.”

“How?”

Odelia explained about the laptop, and Rohanna nodded.“He was crazy about that laptop. It contained all of his manuscripts. All of his precious books. His entire life’s work. He never went anywhere without that laptop. It would have been impossible for that laptop to be down there and not…” She swallowed with difficulty, tears suddenly flooding her eyes, and broke off.

“It’s all right, Rohanna,” Odelia said, dragging a few paper tissues from the dispenser on her father’s desk and handing them to the woman. As soon as she’d wiped her eyes, she gently asked, “I want you to think hard. Do you know if Paulo had any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt him?”

Rohanna shook her head in dismay, then finally choked out,“All I remember is that one day he told me about his feud with Aissa Spring.”

“Aissa Spring of the No Spring Chicks vegan restaurant?”

“That’s the one. He used to go there for dinner sometimes. Until he discovered that Aissa…” She raised her eyes to meet Odelia’s. “That she’s a lesbian.”

She frowned. Aissa Spring lived together with her girlfriend Marissa. Together they ran a vegetarian restaurant right on the main drag. The two women had been together for ages, and very happily so.

“What are you saying? That Frey had a thing against lesbians?”

“You better ask Aissa about it,” she said, loudly blowing her nose. “But from what he told me, he didn’t like gays. At all. Which was a little weird for a writer of his stature.”

Yes, that was a little weird. She now realized she didn’t know all that much about Paulo Frey. Apart from the fact that he was a million-selling writer of thrillers, the guy was a mystery to her.

“Thanks, Rohanna. I’ll go and have a word with Aissa.”

“You do that, and nail the bastard that did this.”

Before she left the room, she turned and said,“Oh, the police will probably want to have a word with you as well.”

Rohanna nodded.“I’ll tell Chief Alec the same thing I told you.”

“It won’t be my uncle. Chase Kingsley is in charge of the investigation.”

Rohanna’s eyes lit up. “Chase Kingsley? That hottie?”

Odelia grimaced.“Yes, the hottie.”

“Oh, he can interrogate me anytime,” said Rohanna, her distress over Paulo Frey’s murder quickly making way for a different emotion altogether.

She managed to give Rohanna a grimace at this, thinking hard thoughts about‘the hottie.’ She needed to get to the bottom of that story, too, and as soon as she revealed that Chase Kingsley was a notorious molester of women, she was pretty sure people like Rohanna would think differently of him.

But first things first. She needed to talk to Aissa Spring. She was the first person who might have a motive for murder. And she was just passing through the corridor on her way to the waiting room, when she bumped into her father, emerging from the examination room with a patient in tow.

“Oh, hey, honey,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “If you came to check up on your grandmother, she’s fine. I tried to give her a checkup this morning and she brushed me off, insisting she was in greater shape than me!”

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a smile. “She’s probably in better shape than all of us.”

Her father was a big and bluff man, and well-liked by all of his patients. He had a knack for putting anyone at ease in a matter of seconds, and often only needed a glance to know what was ailing his patients. They were two qualities that partly explained his popularity as Hampton Cove’s premier doctor. The fact that he was also the town’s only doctor was another reason.

“See you tonight?” he asked now.

“Yes, Dad,” she said, briefly wondering whether to tell him about the murder but quickly deciding against it. They could discuss it over dinner.

“Your mother invited a guest,” he said as he waved the next patient in.

“A guest?” she asked. “You mean Uncle Alec?”

“Yeah, Alec is coming, and he’s bringing one of his colleagues,” her father said as he walked into his office. Before he closed the door, he frowned. “What was his name again…” Then his face cleared. “Oh, that’s right. Chase Kingsley. A new cop. See you later, honey.” And then he closed the door and she was left staring at it, a look of abject horror written all over her features.

Chapter 8

I was still feeling a little groggy and unsteady on my paws. Usually I like to take my eighteen hours of sleep in one long stretch, interspersed with the occasional run to the litter box and the feeding trough. Today, though, I was a cat on a mission, so I’d decided to cut my nap time short and head downtown to see what I could find out about the case of the murdered writer.

I never followed a strict plan on these trips of mine but simply went where my paws took me. I had my regular haunts, of course. Places where I knew I could find the best information. Like the barber shop, or the doctor’s office, or the police station. For some strange reason I always happened to be in the right place at the right time. Call it cat’s intuition. It’s a very powerful thing, let me tell you. And I’d just wandered out into the street, when Dooley fell into step beside me, looking even more haggard than I was feeling.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as we trundled along the sidewalk.

“Duty calls, Dooley,” I said a little solemnly. “You simply can’t wait around for the next clue to arrive on its own. A genuine detective goes out there, into the great unknown, and hunts the clues where he can find them.”

Dooley yawned.“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep either. All this stuff about Brutus and that gruesome poo-poo murder got me wondering about my mortality.”

I stared at the cat. I never would have guessed that Dooley even knew the word‘mortality’ let alone pondered about his own perishability. In fact I’d never known him to worry about anything, except when Marge, Odelia’s mom, dished out the wrong kind of kibble. Dooley likes chicken, but Marge tends to forget, and buys him one of those twenty-pound bags of fish kibble which then he has to eat, because she hates to throw away perfectly good kibble. What can I say? We all have our predilections and peculiarities.

“Do you really think Brutus is going to move in with us and lay down the law?” he now asked.

“I think the odds are not in our favor,” I confirmed. “Chase Kingsley is a very handsome male, and Odelia an attractive female. What’s more, they’re both young and single, and live in a town with a limited supply of eligible bachelors. And if I know something about human nature, it’s that eligible bachelors are prone to mate, and when they do, they tend to make babies and get married and move in together, at which point they bring their cats along.”

Dooley shook his head sadly. It was obvious he wasn’t liking this. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Harriet, because she seems to like this Brutus character, but I honestly fear for our lives when Brutus moves in.”

I looked up in surprise.“Fear for our lives? What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. This Brutus strikes me as the kind of cat who doesn’t like competition in the home. I’m pretty sure that once he moves in he’s going to want to make us disappear. If you know what I mean.”

“You’re saying he’s gonna want to kill us?”

“You, me, and maybe even Harriet when she doesn’t do what he says. Cats like that want to rule supreme, Max. They’re like the evil stepchild who tries to kill their stepsiblings once they’ve taken up position in the home.”

“You mean like Damien inThe Omen?” I asked, remembering the horror movie marathon Odelia had us sit through the other night. Harriet, Dooley and I had been scared stiff the entire time, but Odelia had loved the story of Satan’s spawn. She loved a good horror movie, while the three of us preferred to watchGarfield. OrFinding Nemo. I never get tired of watching those fishes in that fish tank.Finding Dory was even better. Much bigger tank.

“Well, more likeThe Good Son,” said Dooley after a moment’s deliberation. After a lifetime spent with Odelia, he knew his horror classics better than me.

“I don’t think Brutus is going to kill us,” I said thoughtfully.

“And I’m sure he is. He’s going to strike when we’re all sleeping safely in our beds.”

I shivered. Maybe Dooley was right. Brutus was capable of anything. Now, more than ever, I was convinced we needed to figure out a way to make Odelia see what kind of a man Chase Kingsley really was. If we could convince her he was a genuine menace, we could avert the Brutus disaster.

And it was as we were crossing the street, wondering where to go next, that I saw Chase Kingsley enter the doctor’s office. I nudged Dooley. “Speak of the devil. It’s him!”

“Great!” said Dooley, his dejected air quickly giving way to excitement. “Do you think we’ll find some more damaging stuff about the guy?”

“One can only hope,” I said, and we quickly made our way down the narrow alleyway that divides the doctor’s office from Jeremiah Downer’s hardware store. We hopped over a pile of plastic garbage bags, and then onto a couple of trash cans, a dumpster and straight onto the windowsill of Tex Poole’s consultation room. I felt pumped. Now we were going to find out what really made Chase Kingsley tick. In all my years in Hampton Cove I’d never been able to glean more about the local populace than by eavesdropping on the good Dr. Poole while he was examining his patients.

You’d be surprised what people tell their doctor, knowing he’s not allowed to talk about their secrets with another soul, due to something called the doctor-patient privilege. Good thing those silly rules don’t apply to cats.

Dooley and I both peered into the window, and saw that Chase had already been led into the examination room and had taken a seat across from Odelia’s father. He was lucky to arrive when there were no other patients.

“My dear young man,” Tex said cheerfully as he took a seat and smiled widely at his new patient. “Tell me, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you probably don’t know me, Doc,” Chase said.

“Nonsense,” said Tex. “You’re that new cop, aren’t you? The one my brother-in-law speaks so highly of. Detective Chase Kingsley?”

Chase seemed surprised, though he shouldn’t have been. Nothing remained a secret very long in Hampton Cove. And definitely not the arrival in town of a new cop.

He eyed the doctor a little wearily.“Um… What else did Alec tell you?”

“Oh, that you are a valuable addition to our police force, that’s all,” said Tex amiably as he leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “We can definitely use a good man like you, Detective. There might not be a lot of crime in this town, but tourism is increasing by leaps and bounds, and trust me when I tell you that those whippersnappers are capable of a lot of mischief.”

“Yeah, Alec told me,” said Chase with a grimace. He leaned forward and appeared a little flustered. “Listen, Doc, um, the reason I’m here is because, well, I need a new prescription since I’m all out of meds.” At this, he placed a piece of paper on the desk between the two men.

“And what prescription would that be?” Tex asked, snapping up the piece of paper and placing a pair of glasses on his nose to give it a closer look.

I pricked up my ears and so did Dooley. I was pretty sure we were on the verge of discovering yet another damning secret about Chase Kingsley. One that would permanently turn Odelia against him.

Tex was still frowning at the slip of paper, then placed it on his blotter.“You having trouble sleeping, son?”

“Amongst other things,” Chase admitted. “My doc in New York gave me those to take the edge off and to help me sleep. I…” He hesitated.

“Anxiety attacks can be extremely debilitating,” Tex said with a nod as he placed his glasses on his desk. “Especially in your line of work, Detective.”

Chase nodded morosely, then rubbed his face with his hands. Finally he looked up, and I saw he suddenly looked extremely tired.“I don’t know if…”

“Trust me, son,” said Tex with his deep, sonorous voice that had the effect to put his patients immediately at ease. His bedside manner was impeccable. “Whatever you tell me stays between us. You have my word on that.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true,” Dooley muttered next to me.

“The thing is, Doc, is that I find myself in a real quandary.”

“Oh? Does it have something to do with the mayor’s wife?”

Chase seemed surprised, and so was I. The mayor’s wife?

“I see that Alec told you the story already.”

“He did tell me a few things.”

“Then you also know that I was set up?” asked Chase.

“I’m afraid Alec didn’t go into a lot of detail. All he told me was that you ran afoul of the mayor’s wife, who launched a scandalous story about you in retaliation, which forced you out of the NYPD. He also told me that none of the rumors about you are true and that you’re a decent man and a great cop.”

Chase smiled.“Alec’s proven a true friend these last couple of months.”

“He was a friend of your father, right?”

“Yeah. They went to police academy together. In fact Alec’s my godfather, and when my dad died—killed in the line of duty—he kept dropping by the house occasionally, effectively becoming like a surrogate father. He’s one of the few people who know the truth about my resignation.” His lips thinned.

“If you want, you can tell me,” Tex offered. “Like I said, my lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, Doc. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone. If I could, I’d tell the whole world what happened, but that would get me into more trouble than it’s worth. The thing is…” He shuffled uncomfortably in his chair for a moment. “I had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A couple of months ago I was working a very sensitive case, reporting directly to the commissioner, when I happened to barge into his office one afternoon, to discover he wasn’t alone. Politely put, he was in a state of undress with the mayor’s wife. In fact they were all over each other.”

Tex barked out an incredulous laugh.“The mayor’s wife?”

“None other than Malka Putin,” Chase confirmed with a rueful smile. “And she wasn’t glad to see me, let me tell you that. I apologized for the intrusion, of course, but Mrs. Putin decided she couldn’t leave it at that. Even though the commissioner swore me to secrecy and I agreed, she wouldn’t let it go. I explained I wasn’t interested in spreading gossip about other people’s personal affairs, and that as far as I was concerned Mrs. Putin could do the horizontal mambo with whomever she chose, it was none of my business.”

“But Mrs. Putin wasn’t satisfied, I take it,” said Tex.

“Nope. She was afraid I’d talk. She’d heard stories about how cops like to gab, and she was sure that pretty soon the whole town would know about her affair with the commissioner, and then the entire country, and her husband, of course. So she convinced the commissioner to make sure I wouldn’t talk.”

“And he agreed?” asked Tex, surprised.

“I’m sorry to say he did. Worse. He convinced the wife of a suspect I had in custody to concoct some harassment story in exchange for leniency for her husband. He got off with a slap on the wrist, I got to hand in my gun and badge. He figured that if he smeared my name sufficiently nobody wouldlisten to me if I decided to talk about his affair with the mayor’s wife. People would simply think I did it out of spite, and he was right, of course.”

“But Alec believed you.”

“Alec has had my back from the beginning. He’s one of the only people I told the truth, and believed me. He’s stood by me all this time and even tried to talk some sense into the commissioner. Told him he had no right destroying the career of one of his finest just to protect the reputation of Malka Putin.”

“But the commissioner’s loyalty to Mrs. Putin outweighed his obligation toward one of his men. That’s a horrible story, Chase. A really terrible thing.”

“It’s taken over my life these last couple of months. My career gone down the drain, my colleagues avoiding me like the plague, and my chances of ever finding a job as a cop pretty much destroyed. So you see why I’ve had trouble sleeping. My doctor in New York gave me these pills and they’ve done wonders.”

“I see.” Tex toyed with the note for a moment, then said, “You know what? I’m going to do you a favor, Chase. I’m not going to give you a prescription. Instead I’m going to start a new rumor.”

“You’re going to do what?” asked Chase, his jaw dropping.

Tex chuckled.“This town is one big rumor mill, son. Everyone knows everyone around here, and people make it their business to butt into other people’s business all the time. Rumors travel so fast sometimes they overtake you on your way home. It’s happened that something happened to me on my way home and by the time I got there my wife already knew all about it!”

Chase still stared at him.“I don’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re not a Hampton Covian. Yet. I’m going to start the rumor that you were framed in this Malka Putin business, and that you’re a damn fine cop. I’m going to make it so that you’ll be treated like a genuine hero before I’m through, Chase. As it is, people down heredon’t like the mayor of New York or his wife much anyway. Trust me, you’re going to come out of this smelling of roses. This community is going to embrace you as one of their own, and you’ll be able to do your job as a police officer just fine.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Doc?”

The doctor displayed a toothy grin.“I’m going to say more. I’m going to say this is one of the best damn ideas I’ve ever had. And I’m going to add this will do you a hell of a lot more good than those damn pills, son. I’m sure before long you’ll feel right at home in this community. Hampton Covians are a weird bunch. They can be hostile to outsiders, even though this is a tourist town. They don’t easily take to strangers, but once they do, you’ll find they’re the warmest, kindest people you could ever hope to meet.” He gave the other man a smile that warmed my heart, and I could hear Dooley utter a sigh.

Chase nodded.“If you think this will work…”

“Leave it to me. My daughter happens to be a reporter for theHampton Cove Gazette and one of the best gossips this town has ever known. She takes after her grandmother that way. There’s not a single rumor she’s not aware of, and plenty she’s instigated herself. I don’t know how she does it, but she always seems to know everything about everybody and often before anyone else does. If she takes up your case, your worries are over, son.”

Chase looked thoughtful.“Your daughter, is she blond with green eyes?”

“That’s her. Have you met?”

He grimaced.“We have, and I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Nonsense,” said Tex. “No one can get off on the wrong foot with Odelia. She’s sweet as a kitten. Whatever little trouble you had will go away once you’ve sat down for dinner together. You are still coming to dinner, right?”

“Um…”

“Excellent. My wife told me how she told her brother to invite you.”

Chase rose, looking thoughtful. He appeared on the verge of saying something, but then decided against it.“Thanks, Doc. Thanks for listening.”

“Of course,” Tex said, clapping the other man on his broad back and leading him out. “Trust me, before long you and Odelia will get along great.”

Chase’s eyes darkened at the mention of the reporter, and I had the distinct impression he wasn’t as fond of her as Tex would have liked. Which was probably a good thing, as I didn’t want the two of them hooking up. Still, the conversation had definitely made me see Chase in a whole new light. Theguy wasn’t so bad after all. The only thing I now held against him was his lousy taste in cats, but that wasn’t something he could be faulted for. Humans are easily deceived, especially the ones who can’t communicate with us.

Dooley and I shared a look.“That changes everything, doesn’t it?” I said.

“Sure does,” Dooley agreed.

“Just goes to show you can’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

“I knew he was a good guy. I just knew it.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought he was bad news. We all did.”

“Well, it still doesn’t make the prospect of Brutus coming to live with us any better,” Dooley said as we hopped down from the windowsill and started padding toward the front of the building again.

“Didn’t you hear the guy? He and Odelia hate each other’s guts.”

“Oh. Right. So that’s a good thing, huh?”

“That’s a great thing. It’s probably one of those instant enmities.”

“Instant enemas?”

I heaved a sigh.“What’s with the poo fixation?”

“Huh?”

“Enmity, not enema. It’s like instant attraction but the other way around.”

He still looked puzzled.“Uh-huh.”

“It happens. And a good thing, too.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes, then Dooley asked,“Are you sure about those enemas? Chase Kingsley didn’t strike me as constipated.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. God, please kill me now.

Chapter 9

Odelia quickly made her way over to the No Spring Chicks restaurant. She walked in and immediately crossed to the kitchen, where she knew she’d find Aissa. Even though the restaurant was doing great, and Aissa nor Marissa had to slave behind the stove anymore but now had a chef to do the heavy lifting, Aissa still liked to stick around keeping an eye on things. At this time she could usually be found experimenting with new recipes andadding those to the menu, while Marissa was holed up in the small office in the back, going over the books. She was the money person, while Aissa was more the creative and culinary genius.

She found Aissa in the big walk-in freezer, instructing the delivery man where to stash the fresh produce. She looked up when Odelia entered.

“Hey, hon,” she said. “If you’re here for a reservation I’m sorry to say we’re fully booked tonight. Though I could always squeeze you in around eleven, if you’re up for a later dinner.”

“That’s all right. I’m having dinner at my parents’ place tonight.”

“Nothing beats a home-cooked meal,” said Aissa blithely as she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out of the freezer. She was a stickler for detail, which was one of the reasons No Spring Chicks was such a hit.

A short plump woman with a black bob, she reminded Odelia of the women manning the cafeteria counter at Hampton Cove High, who’d always been ready to ladle extra gravy onto her hash browns and provide her with an extra dollop of creamy mashed potatoes.

“So what can I do for you?” asked Aissa, and then her eyes fell on the notebook Odelia was clutching in her hand. “Oh, official business, huh?” Her eyes lit up. “You’re doing another story on No Spring Chicks? That’s great! Last time you did one, our reservations tripled, so keep it coming, hon.”

“Well, actually I’m doing a piece on the murder of Paulo Frey,” she said.

The smile instantly vanished from Aissa’s face as if wiped away with a squeegee. “Yeah, I heard about that. Found him in the crapper, huh?”

She grimaced.“I take it he wasn’t your favorite person in the world?”

“Not really. In fact it’s safe to say Marissa and I kinda hated the guy.”

At least she wasn’t holding back, Odelia thought. “And why was that?”

Aissa led her through the kitchen and into the restaurant, where they took a seat at a table near the window. The place was still empty, as preparations for lunch were yet to begin.“Well, I actually liked the guy at first. When I heard he took the Writer’s Lodge, Marissa and I were excited. We’d both been reading him for years. I mean, he wrote some great books.”

“I know. I’ve read some of his stuff. The guy could write a mean thriller.”

“The operative word is mean,” said Aissa, cocking an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“He had a real mean streak. It’s not something I was aware of at the time, and you certainly wouldn’t have known from his books, but Paulo Frey was a homophobe. That guy simply hated gays with a vengeance. When he discovered me and Marissa were an item, he blew a gasket. Made a scene right here in the middle of the restaurant, the place full of diners. Said we were a disgrace to humankind, and that he’d never set foot in here again, and invited everyone else to follow his example and walk out as well.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It was horrible. For a moment we both feared that everyone would do as he said, but luckily nobody seemed to care that their food was being prepared by two women who happened to be in love. So when he saw that his little temper tantrum was met with eye rolls and shrugs, he stomped out, vowing to destroy us and all of our kind before he was through.”

“A real hater, huh? Who would have thought?”

“It blew us away. How such a vile man could write such great books…”

“So what happened then?”

She waved her hand.“He started spreading rumors around town that our food was poisoned, and that we were the worst cooks in the world. He even called the Food Safety and Inspection people on us. Twice. Luckily we run a clean ship around here, and they didn’t shut us down.”

“I wonder why I never heard about this?”

“Probably because none of the locals bought his crap. He was trying to rile up the tourist crowd, and doing a damn good job, for our business effectively started to slow down. Which is when we talked to your uncle.”

“And he put a stop to the nonsense.”

“That wonderful man drove straight up to the Writer’s Lodge and told Frey that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again he’d personally drive him out of town.”

“Tarred and feathered?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” laughed Aissa. “I don’t know what else he said, but it did the trick. The rumors stopped, and the customers returned.”

“Except Paulo Frey.”

“He wouldn’t have been welcome here anyway. Not after what he put us through. That man is a vile monster. Or at least he was,” she said, sobered when she remembered the reason for this interview.

“I can understand how you felt that way,” said Odelia, jotting down notes.

“And I wasn’t the only one either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard later that he did the same thing to Gabby Cleret.”

“The actress?”

Aissa nodded.“Drove her to a nervous breakdown.”

Before Odelia could get into this, suddenly a shadow loomed over them.

“Aissa Spring?” the new arrival asked. And when she looked up, Odelia couldn’t help but notice that the newcomer was giving her a nasty look.

“That’s me,” said Aissa. “And you are?”

“Detective Chase Kingsley,” Chase said, producing a shiny new badge. “Hampton Cove Police. Can I have a word? When you’re quite finished with Miss Poole, that is.” At this, he gave Odelia another of his trademark scowls.

Aissa grinned.“My sordid past is finally catching up with me, huh?”

Odelia laughed.“Don’t worry, hon. Your sordid past is safe with me.” She didn’t know why she said that, but she suddenly felt like protecting Aissa against this overbearing policeman. As he apparently had a history of violence against female suspects, she felt she needed to stay put and make sure nothing happened. So she returned Chase’s scowl and added some heat. “It’s not because Aissa had a dispute with Frey that she’s automatically guilty, Detective.”

“Oh, I see you’ve decided to become a homicide detective now,” he said, gritting his teeth. He was still towering over them, blocking out the sun.

She got up and walked up to the man.“I’m simply doing my job as a reporter,” she said, going toe-to-toe with him. But since he had at least a foot on her, she had to crane her neck, which wasn’t helping. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a very powerful cologne that assaulted her senses. Only now did she become aware of his overpowering masculinity.

Why hadn’t she noticed this in Uncle Alec’s office? Probably because she hadn’t been quite this close to him. He was staring down at her, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, his granite face implacable, his battering ram of a chin even more impressive up close and personal. Detective Kingsley was a bad, bad man, and she owed it to Hampton Cove to expose him, but he was also a very attractive man, and she now experienced the full effect of his presence.

“This is a murder investigation, Miss Poole,” he growled. “And you’d be well advised not to insert yourself into the investigation. You might get hurt.”

“Is that a threat, Detective Kingsley?”

“A fair warning, Miss Poole. Murder investigations tend to get sticky.”

“I’m a reporter, Detective. It’s my job to report on any crime that takes place in my town. I’m sure my uncle explained all this to you.”

“He did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with him,” he grunted.

“Well, you’d better get used to it.” She would have added he wasn’t going to be in town long enough to learn all the ins and outs of the way they did things around here, but bit her tongue. The story of Detective Kingsley’s wrongdoings was one she’d crack once Frey’s murderer had beencaught.

While this battle of wills took place, Aissa had sat motionless. Now she noisily cleared her throat.“Did you have a question for me, Detective?”

Chase finally dragged his eyes away from Odelia’s and nodded. “I did. Where were you on the night of September sixteen last year, Miss Spring?”

This surprised Odelia.“Have you determined the time of death?”

Chase’s jaw worked as he studiously chose to ignore her. “I realize it’s been a long time, but try to throw your mind back. It’s important. I’m sure Miss Poole told you all about the murder of Mr. Frey by now, and the fact that we need to interview anyone who’s ever been at odds with the victim.”

“Yes, she did,” said Aissa, with a quick look at Odelia.

From her part, Odelia was standing her ground, her arms folded across her chest. Even though it was clear Chase wanted her to leave, she refused to.

“You probably heard about our little feud?” asked Aissa sheepishly.

“I did,” confirmed Chase. “Chief Alec told me how you pressed charges against Paulo Frey after he threatened to close down your restaurant and made a real stink about the fact that you and Miss Marissa are… an item.”

“I was just telling Odelia what a terrible ordeal the whole thing was, and how we were worried that Frey might succeed in closing us down. Luckily Chief Alec stepped into the breach and smoothed things over. After that, Frey gave No Spring Chicks a wide berth every time he came into town.”

“How did you determine the time of death?” Odelia insisted. She’d already scribbled down the date in her little notebook: September sixteen.

But Chase merely stared at Aissa, who realized she still hadn’t answered the cop’s question. “Oh, right,” she said, quickly getting up and hurrying over to the counter. She picked up a large ledger and started flipping through it until she reached the chosen date. “The sixteenth…” she muttered, letting her finger slide down the items on the page. “Oh. Of course. We hosted the mayor’s wife’s birthday bash that night, so we were pretty busy.”

Odelia saw that her words had quite an impact on Chase. It was as if he stood frozen. Finally, he asked huskily,“The mayor’s wife? You mean…”

“Francine. Mayor Turner’s wife? She’s a vegan, so she’s in here all the time.”

Once again, her words had a powerful effect on the policeman. His face visibly relaxed, and a small smile indicated her words met his approval.“The mayor of Hampton Cove,” he said, nodding. “Not the mayor of New York.”

“Oh, no,” Aissa laughed. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen the mayor of New York here, or in Hampton Cove. He’s more an Amagansett kind of guy. I hear he’s got quite a place out there, with a private helipad for his chopper.”

“Yes, he does,” Chase confirmed, his lips once again a grim line.

Odelia wondered what the story with him and the mayor was, and made a quick mental note to further look into the matter.

“So if I talk to Francine Turner, she’ll be able to confirm that you were here all evening on September the sixteenth?” Chase asked now.

“I’m sure she would,” said Aissa. “She’s one of our best customers and I like to be here when something big like that goes down.” She smiled. “Especially after what happened with Frey we were afraid we might lose the restaurant, so we made sure we worked like beavers, both Marissa andI.”

“Marissa was also here?”

“Yes, we were both here, I’m sure of it,” she said. “It was a big thing, and we brought the birthday cake in together. It was a great night. I remember telling Francine how grateful we were for her support and the mayor’s and the entire Hampton Cove community.” She gave Chase a wink. “This is a great little town, Detective Kingsley. One that the Paulo Freys of this world can’t destroy, no matter how hard they try. It’s a lesson I learned last year.”

He nodded curtly, and Odelia thought Aissa’s words had touched a chord, for he gave her one of his rare smiles. “Thank you, Miss Spring.”

“It’s Aissa. And I hope to welcome you in our restaurant one of these nights, Detective.”

“Chase, please, and I most certainly will. I can’t wait to try your cuisine.”

He abruptly turned and strode out, clearly wanting to avoid Odelia, but she quickly tripped after him, giving Aissa a wave.“So you managed to pin down time of death, huh, Detective?”

But Chase simply kept on walking, a set look on his face.

“Did you get a cause of death, too? Detective Kingsley?”

Chase sped up, taking long strides that forced her to break into an awkward gait.“You can’t keep ignoring me! As a reporter I have rights!”

He abruptly stopped and she almost bumped into him.

“I acknowledge the fact that you have rights, Miss Poole,” he ground out slowly, “but I, for one, don’t feel obliged to honor those rights. I’m sure that whatever you need to know you can find out from your uncle, but trust me when I tell you that I intend to conduct this investigation bythe book, and that doesn’t include catering to the wishes of nosy reporters such as yourself.”

“Well, then that’s your loss, Detective!” she found herself crying out, his words having pushed one button too many. “I’ll have you know that I could have been a real boon to this investigation. I know this town, and everyone in it! I know this place inside out, while you’re the new guy, and don’t know a single person around here.” She now found she was tapping his chest with her finger, and marveled how hard it was. The guy was built like Iron Man!

“You may know everyone in town, Miss Poole,” he growled, “but I represent the law, and I intend to honor my obligation to uphold it, and not allow this investigation to turn into a freak show or a town hall meeting. Good day to you.” And with these words, he left her fuming on the sidewalk.

The gall of the man! Max was right. Kingsley was the spitting image of his cat: overbearing, obnoxious, and despotic. Who did he think he was, barging into town and deciding she had no business investigating a murder? She’d show him. She’d solve this murder long before he’d ferreted out his first clue. She’d show him he wasn’t the hotshot detective he thought he was.

Still fuming, she resolutely set foot for the police station. Good thing her uncle wasn’t as unwilling to share information as Kingsley was. She’d find out what the medical examiner had unearthed, and she’d take it from there.

Chapter 10

Dooley and I were just on our way to the newspaper to tell Odelia the latest on Chase Kingsley, when I saw a familiar figure strutting along Main Street. Scratch that. When I sawtwo familiar figures strutting along Main Street as if they owned not only the street but the entire town. They were none other than Brutus and… Harriet!

“Look!” I hissed, my tail quivering in horror. “Look who’s there!”

Dooley glanced over, and did a double take that practically landed him from the sidewalk into the gutter.“Oh. My. God! You were right! Harriet is falling for the creep! No wonder she was defending him! She likes that cat!”

“What’s not to like?” I asked bitterly. “He’s an alpha male, remember?”

But Dooley, who’d been on the fence about Brutus before, now seemed to have had a change of heart. Maybe the fact that he’d always been sweet on Harriet had something to do with it. “How dare he?!” he cried. “How dare he barge in here and steal our queens! I’ll show that damn tom!”

“Well, technically Harriet’s not a queen,” I started to say, but Dooley was already stalking in the direction of the love birds—or rather love cats.

Dutifully, I followed in his pawsteps. I couldn’t very well let him handle Brutus all by himself. As his friend and sometimes housemate I needed to have his back, like I was sure he’d have my back if something ever happened to me. It’s not a strict rule with us cats, mind you. Usually we only have our own backs, and don’t care too much about other cats. We’re not dumb herd animals like dogs. We’re solitary hunters, and used to taking care of number one. But Dooley was my buddy, and I needed to protect him from this brute.

“Dooley! Wait!” I yelled therefore, and shot across the street after him, after looking left and right. I may be a good Samaritan, but I’m not suicidal.

When I arrived on the other side of the road, Dooley was already engaging Brutus in open warfare, while Harriet seemed taken aback by this sudden vehemence her usually placid housemate suddenly displayed.

“How dare you?!” he was yelling at Brutus, even going so far as to tap him smartly on the chest. “How dare you breeze into town and take… our stuff,” he lamely added with a quick glance at Harriet. “You can’t do that!”

But Brutus wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by this sudden sign of a local uprising. Mel Gibson, had he been present at the scene, war paint and all, would have taken charge, and destroyed this nasty interloper once and for all. But Dooley was no Mel Gibson, and Brutus had no trouble putting him in his place. “Look, you moron,” he said, disdainfully swatting away Dooley’s paw. “Things are going to change around here, so you better get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that!” Dooley cried bravely.

“My human is in charge now, with your human playing second fiddle. Chase Kingsley is running this town now, and so am I, and if you want to survive under my regime, you better do as I say or else.” He then turned to Harriet and added, “Come on, toots. Don’t listen to this riffraff.”

“Who are you calling riffraff?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you cut this loser loose, Harriet? Tell him where he can put his new regime.”

“Yeah, tell him, Harriet,” Dooley said. “Tell him we’re your best friends and that we’re in charge of this place, not him.”

Brutus turned to Harriet.“Remember what I promised you, sweetie pie. Fresh raw meat. An all-you-can-eat buffet of fresh raw meat. Just think what it’ll do to your coat. It’ll be even prettier and shinier than it is now already.”

Harriet’s eyes glittered at the prospect of fresh raw meat, and not the kibble Marge always gave her, and she tilted her chin. “Sorry, guys,” she said. “But it looks like things are changing in this town, and either you adapt… or you perish.” She shrugged. “It’s a law of nature, or didn’t you know?”

“But Harriet!” said Dooley, looking thoroughly confused now, and extremely disappointed by this behavior from one he’d always admired from afar. Well, not afar, exactly, as he’d been living with Harriet all his life, but you catch my drift. “You can’t go with this cat. He—he—he’s a… Damien!”

Brutus narrowed his eyes.“What are you calling me, gib?”

Dooley winced.“Damien?”

“It’s just a dumb movie,” Harriet explained. “Let’s go, Brutus.”

Brutus stared at Dooley for a few seconds more, with Dooley appearing to shrink inside his fur. Finally, content that he’d once again destroyed the competition with the mere power of his presence, Brutus gave us both a nasty grin, clicked his tongue, cocked a nail at us and strutted off with Harriet.

“This isn’t fair, Max,” said Dooley plaintively. “He can’t do this.”

“Well, he just did,” I said as I glared after the couple.

“But he can’t just take Harriet! What’s Marge gonna say?”

“Marge is going to discover a cuckoo has taken over the nest. I have a strong suspicion Brutus is extending his dominion to both our backyards.”

Dooley looked up in abject alarm.“He’s moving in.”

“Not moving in, exactly, as he won’t want to exchange his all-you-can-eat meat buffets for Marge’s kibble, but we’ll be seeing a lot more of him from now on.” I sighed despondently. “We better face it, Dooley. Our little band of three has just turned into a foursome. And judging from this small preview, we won’t be the top cats. More like the downtrodden ones.”

“But I don’t want to be the undercat!” cried Dooley.

“Well, you’re going to be, if Brutus has his way.”

Dooley stared after Brutus and Harriet as they strutted their stuff without holding back, giggling and prancing like a couple of love cats.

“I like Harriet,” said Dooley sadly. “I like her a lot. And I always thought that over time she’d learn to like me, too. I guess I was wrong, huh?”

I shook my head.“Where does he come off, calling you a gib?”

“Did he say that? I didn’t even notice,” said Dooley, with a hangcat expression on his face.

Suddenly I got an idea.“Do you know if Brutus is neutered?”

“How would I know? I didn’t check… down there.”

“Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Everything! His aggressive nature. The way Harriet is completely smitten with him. The way he’s taken over this town… That cat,” I said, pointing a paw at Brutus’s retreating back, “has not been fixed, Dooley. Which is a clear violation of the rules and regulations of this town.”

“You think we should tell someone?”

“I think it’s our sacred duty, Dooley,” I declared.

The light of hope was gleaming in my friend’s eyes. “What if we told Odelia? And she told Chief Alec? Who told Chase?”

“He’d have no choice but to have Brutus neutered,” I said with a grin.

“That would change his tune.”

“Bring him down a peg. Or two.”

“Or three or four.”

“Two, Dooley. Even Brutus only has two… you know.”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Two it is.”

“It might even make Harriet fall out of love with the guy.”

“Like you said, Max, it is our sacred duty to make sure the law is upheld.”

“And even more so since Brutus is an officer of that same law.”

I held up my paw, and Dooley slapped it in a genuine and heartfelt high-five.“Let’s get this cat fixed, buddy,” said Dooley, his despondency gone.

And so we set out on a new mission, and set paw for the newspaper, where we hoped to find Odelia. It was a good thing that Dan always liked to leave the door to the office open, so we waltzed in and went straight for Odelia’s office, where we found her checking something on her computer.

“Odelia, have we got news for you!” I announced our presence.

“Oh, hey, Max. Dooley. I don’t have a lot of time, guys. I’m on my way to Uncle Alec for an update on the murder case.”

“We’ll keep it brief,” I promised her, and proceeded to give her a quick summary of the conversation between Chase and Tex. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. Apparently this was all news to her, which was gratifying, of course. But when we added the even more stunning scoopthat Brutus wasn’t neutered, she suddenly lost interest. But isn’t that always the case? Cats are only interested in cats, and humans in humans. It’s simply the way the cookie crumbles. So when I told her to tell Chief Alec about Brutus’s unneutered state, she merely mumbled something underher breath, grabbed her clutch from the desk and waltzed out without another word.

“Do you think we got the message across?” asked Dooley.

“I think we’ll need to follow up on that one,” I told him.

“I think so, too. Somehow I don’t think she grasped the significance.”

Humans. They’re perfectly nice people, but you gotta watch them.

Chapter 11

“Poole,” Odelia said. “My name is Poole. Odelia Poole.”

She stared annoyedly at the mayor’s secretary. The woman was new, and apparently didn’t know who she was. Odelia was anxious to have a word with the mayor’s wife, who she knew had an office right next to her husband, from where she coordinated Hampton Cove’s beautification committee. She needed her to confirm Aissa’s story so she could take her off the suspect list.

Upon leaving the newspaper, she’d popped into the police station to have a word with Uncle Alec, but unfortunately he’d proved unavailable. According to Dolores he’d been summoned to the mayor’s office to give an update on the Paulo Frey case, a case destined to shake this small town to its foundations. Not only were murders pretty rare around here, but a celebrity writer being murdered was unheard of. If one celebrity got killed, it was bound to give other celebrities ideas, and soon they would start avoiding this town en masse, which was definitely bad for business.

“I’m sorry, Miss Poole,” the secretary said, “but the mayor is busy right now, and so is his wife.”

She nodded, wondering whether the mayor’s wife was busy with Chase. If he followed the same pattern she did, he probably was in there questioning her right now. If only she could skip one step and go straight to the next suspect, she could get ahead of him, and solve this murder before he did. Wouldn’t it be fun if he read in his morning paper who Paulo Frey’s murderer was? That would make him feel pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?

So she decided not to wait for the mayor’s wife, and to simply assume Aissa hadn’t lied about her alibi. She checked her notes, and saw that the next person to talk to was Gabby Cleret, the well-known Hollywood actress.

She’d left her pickup parked in front of her father’s office, and now quickly returned there to fetch it. And as she did, she saw that her father had just stepped out of his office and was on his way back from the hardware store next door, carrying what looked like a big roll of screen.

“Hey, honey,” he said when he saw her. “We keep running into each other today, don’t we?”

“It’s a small town, Dad,” she said, then gestured at the roll of screen. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, I promised your mother I’d finally fix that screen door. It’s been broken ever since your cat destroyed it last summer.”

“My cat? Wasn’t it your cat who jumped on the screen and ripped it to shreds?”

He grinned.“I think they all played an equal part in its destruction. Oh, before I forget,” he said as she made to go to her pickup. “There’s something I need you to do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know if you met him, but your uncle Alec hired a new cop. His name is Chase Kingsley and he just arrived in town a couple of days ago.”

Her lips tightened and she crossed her arms as she leaned back against her car.“We’ve met.”

He flashed her a grin.“Oh, that’s right. Chase told me you did.”

“Did he now?”

“Uh-huh. He was in here just now for a, um, consultation. The thing is, Chase used to work as a cop in New York, and got in trouble over some business out there. It’s no great secret, as it’s been all over the New York papers a couple of months ago. He was dishonorably discharged from the NYPD,” he said, also leaning against the car.

“Yes, I know,” she said tersely. She could hardly tell her dad that she also knew all about the conversation he’d had with Chase in his office. It had certainly made her think. If it was true that he’d been framed, it changed everything. But she hadn’t made up her mind that he’d been telling the truth.

A few passersby nodded friendly greetings at father and daughter Poole, and Tex greeted them back jovially while Odelia merely glared at them. She knew exactly what her dad was going to ask her to do, and she’d been dreading the moment ever since Max and Dooley had told her about it.

“Look, I’d like to correct the impression that Chase is some kind of bad apple,” said Tex. “I can’t go into too much detail without divulging certain confidential information that’s strictly between my patient and me, but…”

“Just spit it out, Dad. What is it you want to tell me?”

“Chase has been wronged, honey. That story about him assaulting a suspect’s wife? That’s just a load of poppycock. So I told him I’d talk to you, Hampton Cove’s premier reporter, and convince you to help spread the word that Chase Kingsley is a fine, upstanding citizen and a great cop, and that whole nonsense about his dismissal is simply one big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you saying he didn’t assault that woman?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And what Chase is saying.”

“And you believe him?”

“I most certainly do.”

She shook her head again. Dad was always a sucker for a sob story. Whereas she was a hard-nosed reporter, he believed anything. As she saw it, it was Chase’s word against the woman he’d allegedly molested, so who was she to believe? This far-fetched tale about him catching the commissioner and the mayor’s wife in the act? Or the official story as it had appeared in an NYPD statement and accurately had been reported in the news? Tough choice. But judging from what she’d seen of Chase Kingsley so far, she was inclined to go with the molestation story. The guy was simply bad news.

“So what I want you to do is write a nice little piece, extolling Chase’s virtues, so to speak, and spread the rumor that his dismissal was a mistake.”

“What mistake? Why would the NYPD fire a cop for no reason?”

“I, um…” Her dad quickly glanced around, then said in hushed tones, “Let’s just say he saw certain things he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“What things?” she insisted. She wanted this on the record, so she could use it in a story if she had to.

He stared at her for a moment.“I keep forgetting what a tough reporter you are, honey. Is this the way you conduct all your interviews?”

“Of course. I’m a professional, Dad.”

“Right. Um…” He scratched his scalp, obviously torn.

“I’ll tell you what I heard,” she said, feeling sorry for him. “I heard Chase caught the commissioner and the mayor’s wife making whoopee in his office. So to make sure nobody would believe him if he talked, they bribed this suspect’s wife to fabricate a story about him that got him fired. Am I close?”

He stared at her.“My God, honey. You are good. Who told you?”

She shrugged.“I’ve got my sources. The big question is: do you believe him?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if he’s lying? What if the story is true and he really assaulted that woman? And this whole story about the mayor’s wife is something he made up to protect his reputation and make sure he can work as a cop again?”

Tex shook his white-haired head.“People don’t fool me that easily, honey. I’ve been treating patients for three decades. Trust me, by now I know if they’re lying or not. It’s called intuition, and after so many years I’ve got it in spades.” He stared at her. “You seem adamant to believe the worst about Chase, though. How come?”

“We met this morning in Uncle Alec’s office and he took an instant dislike to me and I to him.”

“You got off on the wrong foot, that’s all. Once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s a great guy. And, I’m sure, a very talented police officer.”

“I just wish he would let me in on the murder investigation.”

“What murder investigation is that?”

“Haven’t you heard? Paulo Frey was murdered. They found his body yesterday out at the Writer’s Lodge.”

“The writer that disappeared?”

She nodded.“Dan asked me to write the story.”

“And Chase doesn’t want you interfering with the investigation.”

“Nope. He feels reporters have no place in a murder investigation.”

“Well, I can certainly understand his aversion to reporters,” said Tex.

“You mean because of that hatchet piece that appeared in thePost?”

Her father nodded sagely, and gave her a grim smile.“He probably feels that that article sealed the deal on his career. Made him persona non grata.”

Her dad had a point. Chase would have an ax to grind with reporters. Unless the assault charges were true. In that case he simply didn’t want reporters snooping around and discovering other dark secrets from his past.

“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head.

“You won’t spread the story that Chase was framed?”

“I don’t see how I can. Not unless I know for sure.”

He sighed.“Fair enough. Always check your sources, huh?”

“Exactly. Imagine I spread the story that Chase is innocent, and it turns out he’s been playing us for a fool. That would ruinmy reputation.”

“Like I said, honey,” said her father, straightening. He fixed her with a kindly look. “After all these years, nobody takes me for a fool. Trust me. But if you feel you can’t do this in good conscience, then simply don’t.”

“You know what? I’ll do a little digging. See if I can’t find someone to corroborate Chase’s story. If the commissioner and the mayor’s wife are having an affair, I’m sure Chase isn’t the only one who knows about it.”

He gave her a warm smile.“You do that, and I trust that you will uncover the truth, like you always do. In the meantime… I hope this business between you and Chase won’t cause any awkwardness over dinner tonight?”

“I’ll behave,” she promised him. “Though I can’t vouch for Chase. The guy seems to hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, honey,” her father assured her. “He’s simply bitter and lashing out, that’s all. Once you break bread together all will be fine.”

Somehow Odelia doubted that.

Chapter 12

Odelia’s next stop was the expansive villa of famous movie star Gabby Cleret. And as she drove there in her old Ford pickup, the one she’d bought with her first salary, she couldn’t help musing on her recent talk with her dad. If it was really true that Chase had been wrongfully accused of a crime it wasn’t enough to spread the rumor around town. He needed to be officially exonerated. Get a chance to get his job back and get an apology from the commissioner. If—and it was a big if, she had to admit—he was right, and she found proof of this so-called affair, she wasn’t going to limit herself to simply spreading a few rumors. She was going to expose the commissioner.

The longer she thought about it, the more she became convinced that perhaps there was truth to the story. She had the highest respect for both her father and Uncle Alec, and knew both of them to be excellent judges of character. If they both trusted Chase, maybe he was telling the truth after all. Which meant he’d been the victim of a terrible crime, and justice had to be done. She’d always abhorred injustice, and now started to see her story taking a completely different direction. Instead of exposing Chase, perhaps she needed to expose the ones who’d got him kicked off the force?

She arrived at the oceanfront property of Gabby Cleret, just outside of Hampton Cove, located on one of those pieces of prime real estate that had long ago been snapped up by the more wealthy residents of the Hamptons.

Like Chase, Gabby had moved to Hampton Cove in a bid to escape the fallout of a scandal that had cost her her career. The details were a little fuzzy, but she seemed to remember she’d starred in a remake ofRaiders of the Lost Ark, only with a female lead this time to take over Harrison Ford’s iconic role. It hadn’t gone down well with fanboys the world over, who’d viciously attacked both her and the picture, and had managed to destroy them both.

Apparently so-called fans hadn’t taken too kindly to their favorite movie being recast with a woman this time, and had been quite vocal about it, bombarding the movie and its star with all manner of vile abuse, with Gabby bearing the brunt of the attack. The actress had taken it badly, especially after the movie had tanked spectacularly, and had lost the studio millions of dollars, causing her career to stall. She hadn’t made another movie since, hiding from the storm out here in the Hamptons, and licking her wounds.

Odelia had met Gabby once, and had even interviewed her for theHampton Cove Gazette. They’d gotten along great, and Odelia hoped she’d remember her and would be willing to talk about the Paulo Frey business.

Ten minutes after she’d rung the bell, she was sipping from a cup of tea out on the deck, while Gabby sniffed from a bouquet of roses a fan and admirer had apparently left on the porch. They were looking out across the pool area, which was now covered with a tarp, and the ocean beyond.

“Nice place you got here, Gabby,” she said appreciatively.

“Yeah, it’s my own little piece of paradise,” Gabby confirmed with a tired smile. She looked a little under the weather, Odelia thought, and more subdued than the boisterous woman she remembered, both from the movie and her personal experience when they’d spent a fun afternoon together.

Gabby Cleret was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with an expressive face and long black hair that she’d pulled up high into a bun. A long, loose-fitting robe hid her cuddly figure. She wasn’t one of those skinny stars, and had never made excuses for her more womanly curves. It was one more reason the fanboys had singled her out for abuse, as apparently a woman wasn’t allowed to have curves and had to look like a stick figure.

“I actually came here to ask you about Paulo Frey,” Odelia finally said.

She saw how Gabby visibly stiffened.“What about him?” she asked, her smile quickly evaporating.

“Well, I don’t know if anyone told you this, but his body was found yesterday, buried out at the Writer’s Lodge. He was murdered.”

Gabby’s eyebrows shot up. “Murdered? Are you sure?”

“Looks like. I’m doing a piece for the Gazette, and I was talking to Aissa Spring just now, who told me you had some kind of run-in with the guy?”

Gabby nodded, gazing out across the ocean for a moment, then fixing her dark eyes back on Odelia.“He was a mean man, Odelia. A real mean man.”

“I gathered that from Aissa’s story.”

“He tried to destroy her restaurant, just because she was a woman in love with another woman. He tried to destroy me, because I was a woman playing a man’s part, and because I was too ugly to be in movies, as he put it.”

“Too ugly? He said that?”

“He didn’t say it, but he wrote it, in a bombardment of tweets aimed at me, enthusiastically retweeted by his posse of followers. It turned into this toxic thing,” she said, shaking her head, “and caused the story to move away from the movie to my personal appearance.” She sniffed one of the roses again, and seemed to take comfort in the sweet fragrance.

“That must have been horrible,” Odelia said commiseratingly. The more she heard about Paulo Frey, the more it appeared the man was a monster.

“His followers didn’t just attack me, they attacked the movie, too. They launched so many one-star reviews on the movie’s IMDb page that it had an actual effect on attendance figures, greatly exacerbated by their boycott.”

“But why? Why go to all that trouble just for a stupid movie?” asked Odelia. “I mean, no offense. I saw the movie and I loved it, especially your performance. I think you did a great job and you were perfect for the part.”

“Thanks,” said Gabby with a smile. “I didn’t get it either. Not then, not now. All I can think is that Paulo Frey hated women. Period. He thought that the studio should never have replaced Harrison Ford with a woman and seemed to consider it a personal insult and so did a lot of men his age. Indiana Jones is this iconic male character, and in their mind replacing him with a woman was simply blasphemy. Underneath all that was simple misogyny, though, I’m sure of it, and he singled me out for destruction, as he put it.”

“He did a pretty good job by the looks of it.”

“He did. Not only did he singlehandedly manage to destroy the movie, losing the studio millions, and sink a potential franchise, he also destroyed my career. There were supposed to be two more films, but those will never be made, and I haven’t received a decent script since.” She produced a mirthless laugh. “He got exactly what he wanted: he destroyed my career and my life.”

“But you can’t let one guy do that to you, Gabby,” Odelia said. “You’re a talented, beautiful woman. You can’t let this horrible event define your life. I’m sure that if you go back out there you’ll see that there are plenty of people who adore you and your work. You have brought somuch joy to the world.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Odelia,” said Gabby gratefully, “but I don’t know if you’re right. It wasn’t much fun going through such an experience and frankly I’m afraid that it will happen again and destroy me.”

“Well,” she said, “the ringleader is dead, so there’s that. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Which reminded her. “Um, I have to ask you this, Gabby, but do you have any idea where you were on the night of September the sixteenth?”

Gabby barked out a laugh.“You’re asking me for my alibi, huh? Why? Do you think I killed Paulo Frey? I didn’t even know he was in town. If I had, I’d never have bought a house here.”

“Yeah, he stayed at the Writer’s Lodge every year, to write his books.”

“Good thing we never bumped into each other. I might have killed him.”

She eyed the other woman uncertainly.“But you didn’t, right?”

“Of course not! Do I look like a murderer? The only thing I’ve killed is a production company, and even that wasn’t my fault but Paulo Frey’s.”

“The company went belly up?” She made a quick note of that.

“Yes, it did. Look, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not happy that the monster is dead, but I can promise you I wasn’t the one that did it. Now where’s my phone?” She searched around until she’d located her smartphone and snatched it from the side table that held, amongstother things, a voluminous tome that appeared to beLord of the Rings. Odelia saw that the screensaver on her phone was the movie poster for the Indiana Jones movie. The actress slipped a pair of half-moon glasses onto her nose and checked the phone, her long-nailed fingers clicking on the glass. She called up the calendar app and squinted at the screen.“I was in LA that weekend,” she finally said. “Ironically enough to be told the news that the sequel toRaiders of the Lost Ark had been canceled after the picture sank like a stone at the box office. So there,” she said, placing down the phone. “I didn’t kill Frey but I heartily commend whoever did. They rid the world of a great evil.”

“Thanks, Gabby,” she said, getting up. “And think about what I said.” She placed her hand on her heart. “Your fans miss you. I miss you. Your place is out there, amongst your true fans, of which you have many, I promise you.”

Gabby gave her a grateful smile and they shared a quick hug.“Thanks, honey,” she said. “Maybe now that the monster is dead, I can show my face again. And maybe even make movies again.”

They both laughed as Gabby escorted her through the house and into a marble atrium. She opened the front door and was surprised to find a tall man standing before her, his finger poised over the bell button.

“Detective Kingsley,” she said sweetly. “I was just going.” She gestured to Gabby. “She’s all yours, but I can tell you already that she didn’t do it, and that her alibi is rock solid.” And with these words, she slipped past the cop, who looked absolutely dumbfounded, and gave Gabbya pinky wave before sashaying down the front steps and making her way to her truck, parked in the circular driveway. In the battle between theHampton Cove Gazette and the Hampton Cove Police Department, it was obvious she was way ahead.

Chapter 13

“You know, one good thing about Harriet hooking up with Brutus is that he’ll be so busy showing off to her he won’t bother us,” I told Dooley as we sat on the back porch of the Gazette, grooming and basking in the sun.

Dooley and I might not be the most handsome cats around, but that didn’t mean we didn’t take our grooming seriously. Every cat worth his or her salt likes to preen, and we were no exceptions.

We weren’t alone, as the Gazette’s owner, Dan Goory, was rocking in his rocking chair, going over the proofs of one of his articles. The old man liked to sit here and take a load off his feet, and occasionally smoke a cigarette. We always made sure we sat upwind from him, as we weren’t too keen on the smell. Sometimes Dan and Odelia would sit here together and discuss the next day’s edition of the Gazette. It was better than being cooped up inside.

“I don’t know,” said Dooley morosely between two licks. “I’m sure he’ll manage to fit bullying us into his busy schedule.”

“I don’t think so. In fact I’m pretty sure that as long as those two are an item, he’ll leave us in peace,” I said, trying to lift Dooley’s mood. He’d been feeling downcast after making the discovery that the cat he’d been sweet on for years had fallen for the new cat on the block.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Dooley, giving his tail a tentative lick and then, deciding it was clean enough, leaving it for another time. “Let’s hope that as long as that Nazi furball is prancing around with Harriet we’re safe.”

“Which means we can do whatever we want. Go wherever we like and generally be masters of our own fate again without that brute interfering.”

“So what do you want to do?”

I thought for a moment. What did I want to do? I wanted to solve this murder, that’s what I wanted to do. And make sure Odelia got the scoop. I liked this small town, and I didn’t like it when people started killing each other. It wasn’t nice. And since violence led to more violence someone had to put a stop to it before things got out of hand. At least that’s how I saw it.

“We could hang out at the barbershop,” Dooley suggested.

It was one of our favorite haunts. You’d be surprised what kind of secrets people tell their barber. Almost as many as they divulge to their doctor.

“Why don’t we head out to the lodge and see if we can’t pick up the scent of the killer?” I suggested instead. The barbershop could wait. We were born hunters, after all, and perhaps we could pick up the scent of the murderer.

Dooley brightened, and I saw this would be good for him. It would keep his mind off Brutus and Harriet strutting their stuff along Main Street.

“I think that’s a great idea, Max,” he said enthusiastically. “Maybe we can sniff out the killer and then all Odelia has to do is make them confess.”

“Let’s do this,” I said, and we bumped fists.

It’s called teamwork, people, and it’s not just humans that do it. Dooley and I have been living together for so many years we make a pretty great team. What’s more, we’ve grown attached to our humans, and like to help them out. When it suits us, of course. We’re not a couple of dumb dogs.

So we left Dan on the back porch marking up his articles with a deep frown on his face, and trotted off, setting paw for the Writer’s Lodge. One disadvantage of being a cat is that we don’t get to drive a car. Or a bike. Which means we have to go everywhere on paw. But, like I said, we’re natural born hunters, and what are a couple of miles for your friendly neighborhood predator? Chicken feed. Still, after we’d been on the move for a while, I was starting to wonder if this was such a good idea after all.

“Are we there yet?” asked Dooley, panting slightly.

“No idea, buddy, but I hope so. My paws are killing me.”

“And mine. What’s more, I’m getting tired, Max.”

“I’m sure it won’t be much further.”

We walked on in silence for a couple of minutes. We’d left the heart of town behind, and were now traipsing through the woods. This piece of the trail was all uphill, and I wondered who would voluntarily go and live in the middle of nowhere just so they could write a book. Nuts.

“You know? When this is all over and we’ve caught the killer, maybe we’ll get a nice treat,” said Dooley. “Like that raw meat Brutus gets from Chase?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “All we ever get are leftovers, and they’re cooked.”

“Maybe when Brutus comes to live with us he’ll share his meals?”

“Dream on, buddy. Brutus doesn’t strike me as the sharing type.”

“You’re probably right. And if he shares, it’ll be with Harriet, not us.”

We scaled a small hill, and passed beneath some brambles, to come out on the other side looking like pincushions. We shed the prickles and trudged on.

“You know?” Dooley asked suddenly. “What does Brutus have that we don’t?”

I sighed.“Is this about Harriet again?”

“No, it’s about Brutus being treated like royalty.”

“Well, Brutus is a pedigree cat, Dooley. They’re like the royalty of cats. While we’re just your average alley cats that got picked out of the litter by an indiscriminate hand. I’m sure that when Chase got Brutus, he paid good money for that cat, while we’re lucky we didn’t get flushed down the toilet.”

“So he’s a prize-winning cat and we’re just a bunch of ugly mongrels,” Dooley said bitterly. Maybe this hike wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Instead of taking his mind off Brutus and Harriet, it had the opposite effect.

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “Though I wouldn’t call you a mongrel, Dooley.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? That cat has probably won a ton of cat shows.”

I shuddered at the thought of having to compete in a cat show.“It’s only natural that after paying top dollar for Brutus, Chase would want to show him off,” I speculated. “Which is probably why he feeds him a diet of raw meat.”

“Hey, maybe we should enter a cat show,” said Dooley. “Show Odelia that we’re special, too. Maybe then she’ll start feeding us raw meat.”

“I doubt whether we’ll stand a chance,” I said, shaking my head at so much naivet?. As if we could ever compete with the likes of Brutus.

“Why not?” he asked stubbornly. “It worked for Babe, didn’t it?”

I frowned.“Babe? Who’s Babe?”

“Don’t you remember that movie we saw the other night? About a piglet that grows up on a farm, and the farmer trains him to be a sheepdog? And since he was so nice and polite all the sheep loved him and did exactly what he told them to do at the animal show? He didn’t even have to bark at them or bite them or any of that horrible stuff. So if Babe can do it, so can we.”

“Do what, exactly? Become sheepdogs?”

“Not sheepdogs,” he said with a laugh. “Perform at a cat show!”

Become a cat model? Never!“I really don’t think so, Dooley.”

“But we’re special, Max, just like Babe. I just know we are.”

“Look, that was a Hollywood movie. In Hollywood movies animals are always special. Penguins have happy feet and pigs can corral sheep and cats eat lasagna and sound like Bill Murray. In real life? Not so much.”

“But we can talk. We can talk to Odelia. And to Marge. And Gran.” He gave me a grin. “I’m sure that Brutus can’t talk to Chase Kingsley.”

Well, that was true enough. Brutus might get prime chops, but I doubted whether he could chat with his human. Dooley and I might not be pedigree cats, or have the appeal of a sheepherding pig or silly dancing penguins, but we could help Odelia solve this murder, and that definitely made us special.

We’d arrived at the Writer’s Lodge, and saw that the place was completely cordoned off with crime scene tape, the yellow kind.

“Come on,” I said as I followed the scent of human excrement. “Over there.”

We hurried to the place where the crime had been committed and stopped at the demolished structure that had formerly been the outhouse. The entire thing had been taken apart, the boards piled up high next to a sizable hole dug into the earth. A small crane stood parked next to it, which had probably been used to get the body of Paulo Frey out of the hole. When we took a tentative peek into the abyss, I saw it was pretty deep. And smelled horrible.

“Crap,” I said. “This stench is hard to bear.”

Unlike humans, us cats can’t pinch our noses, which are a lot more sensitive to begin with, so the foul stench emanating from the former latrine was an assault on my senses that was worse than I’d imagined. Generations of writers had taken a dump right here in this pit, and so had generations of Hampton Covians, as the Writer’s Lodge outhouse was as popular with the locals as it was with writers. When nature suddenly called, hikers had the choice between relieving themselves in the bushes or this outhouse. But why wipe your tush with a piece of bark or a clump of grass when you can use Hetta Fried’s velvet comfort triple-layered tissue instead? After all, what’s good enough for bestselling writers is good enough for the local yokels.

Luckily for the lodge’s paying guests, they got preferential treatment. So when a desperate hiker came running, ready to burst, and he found the outhouse occupied by a writer, he simply had to hold and wait until the scribbler had done his business before adding his own contribution.

“So this is where they found the guy, huh?” asked Dooley, his face twisted in a grimace as he tried to endure the horrible stench.

“Yeah. Looks like,” I croaked.

The pit had been completely emptied out, and I couldn’t even see the bottom now, nor did I feel inclined to jump in and investigate.

“Do you smell the killer?” asked Dooley, gagging slightly.

“I smell shit,” I wheezed, and quickly removed myself from the scene.

And that’s when I bumped into another cat who was lurking around. I recognized her as one of the wild felines that roamed these woods, and lived as nature had intended it: free and untethered, roaming the earth alone.

“Hey, Clarice,” I said by way of greeting. “So what are you doing here?”

Clarice, who was rail thin, with gray hair matted and twisted in knots, had a wild look in her eyes. She was feral, and we usually tried to avoid her. But this was not a regular social call. We needed answers and we needed them fast and maybe Clarice had seen something out here.

“Do you have any idea who killed this guy?” asked Dooley, who’d joined me. The stench of human dung had become too much for him as well. At least where we lived humans used a flush toilet, and the smell never got as bad as out here, where they still adhered to a more primitive waste disposal method.

“I saw nuthin,” said Clarice now in a vicious snarl.

“You mean you weren’t around when the murder happened?” I asked.

She shook her head.“I saw nuthin.”

“Maybe you saw this Paulo Frey character when he was still alive. He was a regular at the Writer’s Lodge, right?” I asked, probing a little further.

She stared at me, looking more feral than ever. It gave me the creeps. The longer Clarice lived out here, the weirder she seemed to get.

“I saw nuthin,” she repeated a third time, sticking to her story no matter what. And then, before we could continue our line of questioning, she simply darted away, and shot off into the woods, as if fired from a gun, afraid we might push her to reach deep and way beyond her limited vocabulary.

“That was weird,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, not very helpful,” I admitted.

We both stuck our noses in the air, to see if we couldn’t pick up any scents, and discovered that we could pick up plenty of them. Too many, in fact, as it appeared that half of Hampton Cove had been out here, which didn’t surprise me. Everyone wanted to take a peek at the crime scene, probably, and find out for themselves what was going on out here.

“I think this was a waste of time,” Dooley finally said.

Just then, I pricked up my ears, for I’d heard the engine of a car whine in the distance, working hard to haul a car up these hills and join us. “Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Someone’s coming,” Dooley said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Do you think it’s the killer? They always say killers return to the scene of the crime!”

“The crime’s been committed over a year ago, Dooley. Why would he wait until now to show up?”

“Because it’s taken until now for the body to be discovered!”

I had to concede he had a point, and we waited with bated breath for the killer to show his or her ugly face. But the car that finally made it up the steep incline was a very familiar one, and we both shared a happy grin.

“Great,” said Dooley. “We can hitch a ride back with Odelia.”

For it was indeed our human’s very own old Ford pickup that now crested the final stretch of road before the lodge, and hove into view.

Odelia stepped from the truck’s cabin and tentatively looked around. When she saw us sauntering from the shrubbery, she smiled. “Hey, you guys. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“We just thought we’d take a closer look at the crime scene,” I said as I curled myself around her leg and butted my head against her calf.

“Yeah, we thought we’d try to sniff out the killer,” Dooley added.

“And? Any luck?” she asked as she crouched down and scratched our necks. We both purred with contentment, our tails gently quivering.

“Lots of scents,” I said. “But hard to determine which one’s the killer’s.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to isolate the killer’s scent,” she said. “The crime was committed a long time ago. Lots of people have been here since.”

“So what are you doing out here?” I asked.

Odelia tapped her smartphone smartly.“Taking a couple of shots for my article.” She walked over to what was left of the outhouse and started snapping pictures, making sure she got it from all the different angles.

“Are you any closer to solving the murder?” asked Dooley.

“Nope,” she said, walking back to us. “I talked to two women who had a run-in with Paulo Frey, and they both told me what a dreadful man he was. Really spiteful and extremely mean. It seems he hated both gays and women, and gay women even more, and liked to harass them and destroy them.”

“A real sweetheart, huh?” I asked as I watched Odelia approach the lodge to take a couple of snaps there. It was a fairly small structure, completely constructed from dark oak, with a nice verandah, where Hetta had installed the Jacuzzi. Writers enjoyed soaking in the hot tub while experiencingthe great outdoors and gazing up at the stars twinkling above. If it didn’t inspire them to write the great American novel, at least it relieved their arthritis.

“So no leads?” asked Dooley.

“Well, the two women I talked to both had alibis, so that was a dead end, but it made me think…”

“Uh-huh?” I asked encouragingly.

She paused, a frown appearing on her smooth brow.“If Frey was the kind of monster they made him out to be, and I don’t doubt they were telling me the truth, he must have had other enemies. And maybe one of them finally decided enough was enough and put a stop to the harassment. Permanently.”

I shared a quick look with Dooley. This was our cue.“Talking about harassment,” I began. “Have you considered suggesting to Chase Kingsley that his cat ought to be neutered?”

But Odelia was already walking around to the other side of the lodge, snapping more pictures. And that’s when I heard another car pulling up.

“Uh-oh,” I said, alarmed. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“The killer!” cried Dooley.

I checked the car that now appeared over the rim.“Close, but no cigar.”

Chapter 14

Odelia was wondering how to get inside the lodge. She wanted to take a few snaps of the place where Frey had spent his final hours, to add color to the story and set the scene. She should have asked Hetta for the key before driving out here, but it had been one of those spur-of-the-moment kind of things. When she couldn’t reach her uncle, she’d figured she might as well drive up and soak up the atmosphere. Get a feel for the place. She rattled the doorknob in frustration. Nope. That one was locked. Then she noticed that a window on the second floor was open, probably to air out the place.

Tucking away her smartphone, she quickly climbed one of the trellises that reached from the ground floor all the way to the roof, and hopped onto the black slate roof, from where she started making her way to the window. Her tongue sticking out, she was just wondering what she’d say if anyone caught her breaking and entering, when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing up there, Miss Poole?”

She looked down, and saw she’d been joined by none other than Detective Kingsley. He was staring up at her, his expression implacable.

“What areyou doing here?” she asked, annoyed. “And how is it that wherever I go, I bump into you? Are you following me, Detective Kingsley?”

“I asked you first,” he said. “Why do you insist on sticking your nose into my investigation? Interviewing my witnesses? Disturbing my crime scene?”

“It’s called journalism, Detective,” she said. “It’s what reporters do.”

“This is a crime scene,” he repeated, that same set look on his features she’d seen every time they’d met. “You can’t go traipsing all over this place.”

“Well, you’re doing it,” she challenged, “so I don’t see why I can’t.”

“I’m the cop in charge of this investigation,” he pointed out. “So I’ll ask you again: what are you doing up there, Miss Poole?”

“I, um…” She’d started making her way down from the roof. She now saw she should have worn jeans that morning, and not this silly little dress. She had the impression that Chase could see her pink undies from where he was standing, and that was the absolute last thing she needed right now. “I just wanted to find an original angle on the place where the body was found.” She gestured at the outhouse. “I figured I’d have a great shot from up here.”

But as she was descending the roof, her foot slipped on a slick patch, and she suddenly was hurtling down a lot quicker than she’d anticipated. She cried out when she reached the roof’s edge and scrambled for support. Her fingers caught a clump of wet leaves and she lost purchase and tumbled over the edge, on a collision course with the unyielding ground below.

Just as she braced for impact, however, she was snatched in midair by two strong arms that caught her just in time. And she suddenly found herself in such close proximity with the hardened cop that she felt like a little bird falling from the nest and being caught by some creature of the wild.

She was at Chase’s mercy now, and could feel her heart beating wildly against her breastbone, Chase’s face so close she could see tiny flecks of green in his icy blue eyes, and the slight stubble that dusted his cheeks. His arms were strong and powerful, as was his chest, and for a moment she had the distinct impression that his full lips would take hers and devour her.

But as quickly as he’d caught her, he released her again, by returning her to perpendicularity, setting her down so gently she surprised herself by heaving out a soft sigh. He then pointed at the green smudges on her dress.

“You’ll have to get that dry-cleaned,” he grumbled, giving her a hard look.

She was still panting slightly, her heart racing, and she knew it wasn’t from the drop but from being in such close proximity with Chase’s hard chest. She hadn’t been this close to a man for a while, her last boyfriend having fled Hampton Cove over a year ago, when he’d been caught embezzling funds from the local bank. Sam had been a teller and had both swindled the bank out of a nice sum of money and her out of her illusions.

He’d been a nice young man, and she’d even brought him home to meet her parents and grandmother for dinner. He’d been nothing like Chase Kingsley, who, she now realized, was an actual man, while Sam was a boy.

“I, um, thank you,” she finally managed. His hands were still expertly removing a few leaves from her person, and the memory of his hard body so close to hers sent a steady stream of thrills up her spine and made her knees tremble. She licked her lips, trying to stem the tide of emotions that suddenly flooded her. How was it possible that a man she hardly knew could have such a powerful effect on her? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. All she knew was that Chase was a very dangerous man, and she better put some distance between herself and this overbearing cop, or else she might bethe next one to fall victim to his treacherous ways. Her lips tightened and her face hardened when she stepped back. “Thank you for saving my life, Detective Kingsley.”

“I don’t think I saved your life, Miss Poole,” he said, also straightening, “but you’re welcome. And now I think it’s time for you to head back into town.”

Anger flared inside her. Who did he think he was ordering her around like this? Maybe it was time she put him in his place.“I’m actually doing a story on you as well, Detective. A story my readers will find fascinating.”

“Is that right?” he asked, eyeing her a little wearily.

“Oh, yes. Lots of rumors have been swirling around about you, and I think it’s important to separate fact from fiction. Set the record straight.”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I think, too,” he admitted.

“So… would you like to comment on your dismissal from the NYPD?”

Instantly, his face hardened.“You know very well that was a hatchet piece that appeared in theNew York Post. No truth to the story whatsoever.”

“All I know is that you were accused of molesting a suspect’s wife, and that she filed charges against you, which caused your immediate dismissal.”

His eyes were blazing now with fury.“That story was a fabrication and a lie,” he growled. “Nothing about it was even remotely true.”

“Then you won’t mind setting the record straight? Give the good people of Hampton Cove your side of the story? Your version of the facts?”

“It’s not myversion of the facts, Miss Poole. Theyare the facts.”

“And what are those? And why haven’t you told them to anyone before?”

At this, instead of launching into a long-winded harangue about the mayor’s wife and the commissioner, as she’d expected, he simply closed his mouth with a click, and stood there glaring at her, visibly seething with anger.

“Oh, come on, Detective Kingsley,” she prompted. “You can do better than that.” She took a step closer. “Isn’t it, in fact, true that you claim you stumbled upon a secret liaison between the commissioner and the mayor’s wife? That you were consequently the victim of a cover-up, and that these false accusations leveled against you were simply a way of discrediting you so no one would believe your crazy story about the commissioner’s illicit affair?”

His eyes were blazing, his face taking on a darker tinge of scarlet. A vein was dangerously throbbing at his temple, and she took another step closer.

“Where did you hear that?” he finally demanded in a deep, low growl.

She shrugged.“I’m a professional, Detective. I have my sources.”

When he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a vigorous shake, she knew she’d gone too far. “Tell me who told you about this,” he spat, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that held her spellbound.

“I—I can’t,” she said, suddenly realizing the dangerous position she’d maneuvered herself in. Here she was, all alone in the woods, near the scene where Paulo Frey had been murdered, with a cop who stood accused of molesting a woman and had lost his job as a consequence. Why did she have to come out here alone? And why did she have to provoke this man? She’d poked the bear, and now he was awake and furious and ready to devour her!

“I want you to let me go now,” she said, squirming.

“Not before you tell me who told you about the commissioner.”

“I—I can’t!” she cried.

He shook her again.“Was it your father? Did he tell you?”

“Of course not! I—everyone knows the story. It’s all over town!”

He stared at her at this, aghast.“All over town?”

“Yes! It’s not a secret, if that’s what you think.”

He was still staring at her, his face ashen now. She wriggled out of his arms, and this time he let go, looking absolutely shell-shocked.

“And let me tell you that I, for one, don’t believe a word of it,” she said. “That whole story about the mayor’s wife? I think you made that up. I think you’re a brute and you went too far that day and you molested that woman.”

He blinked, finally coming out of his stupor when her words hit him. Surprised, she watched as a look of torment came over his face.“We’re done here, Miss Poole,” he said in a voice so quiet she had to strain her ears to pick up the words. “We’re done here,” he repeated, then started to walk away from her, his back straight, his shoulders stiff and his demeanor unreadable.

And as she watched him walk away, she realized what she’d done. The only two people in town he’d entrusted with his secret were her father and her uncle. In Chase’s mind one of them must have betrayed his confidence. How else could she have known? And now he would confront either or both of these men, and would probably never trust them again. She’d really done it this time. Maybe he’d even resign and leave Hampton Cove because of her. Chase Kingsley was obviously a proud man, and might simply walk away.

“Chase!” she called out, and hurried after him. “Chase! Come back!”

She caught up with him just as he reached his car, a pickup like hers, but more dilapidated. He whirled around.“What?” he asked, his jaw working.

“I, um…” She didn’t know what to say for a moment. How could she explain that she got all of her information from her cat? That was simply ludicrous. But how else could she have known? In his mind her father had broken his trust, or her uncle. She needed to tell him the truth, no matter howimprobable it might sound. Or… “I’ll tell you where I heard the story.”

“I know. All over town,” he gritted out.

“No! No, I’m the only one that knows. And… and Beah.”

He stared at her, his face inscrutable, and folded his massive arms across his chest, leaning against the truck. He wasn’t giving her an inch. “Go on.”

“I… I worked for theNew York Post for six months, as an intern, right after I finished college. I didn’t like it out there, though, and pretty quickly returned to Hampton Cove, where Dan had always promised me a spot on his paper. He was getting on in years, and couldn’t do it all by himself anymore. The work maybe wasn’t as exciting as working for one of the big papers, but it was good enough for me. But while I was interning at thePost I became really close to another intern. Beah Heaves and I became friends, and even after I returned here we kept in touch. We, um, we exchange information. When she needs help on a story about the Hamptons, or I need something on New York, we help each other out.”

“So?” he grunted, his eyes remaining steadily on hers.

“Well, I called her this morning, asking about you, and she told me the story about the harassment, and…” She hesitated, licking her lips. “She also told me that a crazy rumor had done the rounds that you were set up. That the harassment charge was simply a way to make you go away.”

His frown deepened.“If this reporter friend of yours knew about this, why didn’t she pursue the story? Why was this never printed in thePost?”

She lifted an ineffectual hand.“Isn’t it obvious? Because nobody believed the rumors. They figured you started them yourself, to get off the hook.”

He shifted, giving her a slight nod.“And what do you believe?”

She cast around helplessly. To be honest, she hadn’t made up her mind.

She didn’t have to, for his jaw worked when he growled, “I see.”

And then he abruptly turned and yanked open the door of his car and slid behind the wheel. When he turned back to her, his face was a mask of determination.“Just make sure that when you print your story you make sure to get a quote from the commissioner this time. Get him on record.”

“Why?” she asked, surprised.

“Because the scumbag has never come out openly and accused me of a crime.” He gave her a grim-faced look. “Just ask him the question straight to his face, and see how he responds. I’m sure a big-shot reporter like yourself will have no trouble recognizing a blatant lie when you see it.”

With these words, he started up the truck and the engine roared to life. Before she had a chance to respond, he was racing away, wheels spinning and leaving her in a cloud of dust and wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

For some reason, she was starting to believe that Chase Kingsley just might be telling the truth after all, which meant she’d been wrong all along.

Chapter 15

Dooley and I rode in the back in silence for a while, as Odelia seemed to ponder Chase’s words. She now had two cases on her plate: a nasty murder case, and the mystery of the new policeman, and seemed adamant to solve them both. Dooley had stretched himself out on the backseat and was already snoring softly, while I was gazing at the back of Odelia’s head, wondering what else we could do for her. It was obvious the recent meeting with Chase hadn’t gone well, and judging from her silence it had made a great impact.

I wondered why this was. Why would some idiot cop cause her so much distress? She’d gone toe-to-toe with other people before—these things happen when you’re a tough-as-nails reporter—and she’d shrugged off those incidents in a heartbeat. This time the confrontation had left an indelible impression, and I thought I knew why this was. The same reason Harriet had fallen so unexpectedly for Brutus: this new cop was an alpha male. The kind of male human that made a powerful impact on the female of the species.

I’d seen it before and I now recognized the signs: Odelia was developing feelings for this cop, even though she probably didn’t know it herself.

Why else would she care whether Chase Kingsley was innocent in this whole harassment business or not? If he were simply some Mr. Nobody she would have dismissed him out of hand, but now she was almost as eager to solve his mystery as she was to solve the Paulo Frey murder.

And then I got an idea. I know, it sometimes happens, even to cats. I don’t know where these sudden moments of illumination come from, but I’m grateful they do. And no, I’m not saying I’m the smartest cat around, because I’m not, but I do have my moments of sudden brilliance, if I say so myself.

“Hey,” I said, deftly hopping into the passenger seat. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Mh?” asked Odelia without looking up. She was still deep in thought as she steered her pickup expertly down the winding road back into town.

“You want to find out if Chase is innocent, right?”

This time she did look up, and gave me a sideways glance.“Yes? So?”

“Well, if the commissioner and the mayor’s wife are having a torrid affair, it’s bound to have spilled over from his office to other places as well, right?”

“Probably,” she agreed.

“I mean, if the flames of passion are that high, they won’t be able to confine themselves to doing it in his office, right?”

She laughed at his.“I don’t know if this is an appropriate conversation for a young cat like yourself, Max.”

I puffed up my chest.“Young cat? Haven’t you ever heard of cat years? I’m not a spring chicken, honey. I’m a grownup. I can handle this stuff.”

“All right,” she said with a slight smile. “So what’s your big idea?”

“Well, it’s not as if you can walk up to the commissioner and ask him point blank if he’s having an affair with the mayor’s wife, right?”

“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she agreed with a grimace.

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Dooley from the backseat. He’d woken up and was yawning cavernously, inspiring me to follow suit.

“Max has got an idea,” said Odelia.

“Well that’s a first,” said Dooley, joining me on the front seat.

I scowled at him.“I’ll have you know I get plenty of ideas, and a lot of them are pretty smoking hot, too.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “Just tell us already. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

After a last censorious look at my friend, I continued.“Like I was telling Odelia, if the commissioner and the mayor’s wife have been doing it all over the place, as they probably have, seeing as they’re probably in love and all of that soppy stuff, someone’s bound to have noticed.”

“Someone?” asked Odelia. “I doubt that very much, Max.”

“Did I say ‘someone’? I meant ‘some cat,’ of course. Whatever humans do, there’s usually a cat around, as there’s so many of us, and humans tend not to notice we’re even there half the time. They don’t realize we’re everywhere—and we like to blab.”

“Oh, do we like to blab,” Dooley confirmed, stolidly licking his paws.

“We blab a lot.”

“All the time.”

“So there you have it!” I said triumphantly, settling back to collect my well-deserved round of applause.

But Odelia didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?”

I frowned at her. Sometimes I wonder if human intelligence is as well-developed as they seem to think it is.“I’m saying that there’s bound to be a cat out there who has seen something, and since all cats blab, probably the entire cat community of New York knows about this by now, and since cats also like to wander around, word has probably reached beyond city limits and might even have traveled as far as Hampton Cove. Do you get it now?”

Dooley didn’t seem to think she had, for he explained, “So all we need to do is find us a cat who knows a cat who knows a cat who’s seen—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, stemming the flow of words. “What Dooley means is that we need to find a cat who knows a cat who’s seen—”

“Hey! That’s what I said!” exclaimed Dooley.

“No, it’s not,” I argued.

“It is, too!”

“Not!”

“You guys!” Odelia cried, laughing. “I get the picture. So you’re telling me you’re willing to look into this whole Chase Kingsley harassment case?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I said.

“And what I’m saying too,” Dooley said.

Odelia glanced at us.“It’s very sweet of you to offer, but I don’t know…”

“Well, I do,” I said. “Not that we need to, mind you, cause us cats have a sixth sense so we already know if Chase Kingsley is telling the truth or not.”

Her eyes widened.“Oh? Sois he telling the truth?”

I stared at her, not sure how to respond. I knew a lot depended on my answer. For one thing, if she started bumping and grinding with this Chase, like humans tend to do, our lives would never be the same again. Sooner or later she’d hook up with the guy, him being an alpha male and all, and then Brutus would become part of our extended family, which would turn our lives into a living hell. On the other hand, if it was Chase she wanted, it was Chase she should get, for deep down I thought he wasn’t as bad as all that, asmen went. And God knows that Odelia deserved to get herself a decent guy for once, especially after that creep Sam she’d dated last time. Dooley and I had warned her the guy was up to something, but she hadn’t listened, and not only had he turned out to be a grade-A creep, but a nasty little thief, too.

“Look, I’ll tell you what I think, but on one condition,” I finally said.

“What’s that?” she asked tensely.

“Yeah, what’s that, Max?” Dooley chimed in.

“You have to get that cat of his neutered! It’s the only way I’m ever going to tolerate him living with us.”

“You’ve got a point, Max,” Dooley admitted. “Fix Brutus or else.”

Odelia stared at us.“Brutus living with us? What are you talking about?”

I sighed.“You know as well as we do that you like the guy, honey. Once you guys move in together and start nesting and making babies, Brutus becomes a fixture. The only way to take him down a peg or two is to fix him.”

“Yeah, that’ll fix him,” said Dooley.

To my surprise, Odelia burst out laughing.

“Hey, this is not a joke!” I reminded her. “Our lives are at stake here.”

“Our very lives,” Dooley muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off.

“You really think that Chase and I…” She shook her head, still laughing. “So you actually think that Chase and I are going to move in together?”

“Of course! Isn’t it obvious? You like the guy and he likes you, so you’re bound to end up together at some point in the future. I know humans, Odelia. I’ve studied the species extensively. I know attraction when I see it.”

She was still shaking her head, her blond hair dangling around her shoulders. She looked lovely, I thought. Sunlight slanted in through the grimy windshield and lit up her features, and made her hair shine golden. No wonder this Chase couldn’t keep from bumping into her wherever she went.

“Look, Max. I don’t know what you think you saw, but Chase and I are never going to become an item. He doesn’t even like me. In fact he hates me. And I…” She faltered, and then said stubbornly, “I don’t like him either.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep telling yourself that. Anyway, here’s the deal: promise to have Brutus fixed and I’ll tell you what kind of guy Chase Kingsley really is.”

“All right,” she said. “If Chase and I should ever get together—and that’s a very big if, mind you—I’ll talk to him about having his cat neutered.”

“Great,” I said, the prospect of Brutus having his nuts chopped off suddenly putting me in a great mood. Hey, I never said we’re always the cuddly, sweet-tempered creatures you humans seem to think we are!

“Now tell me,” she insisted. “Is Chase Kingsley innocent of these harassment charges like he claims, or is he simply lying through his teeth?”

She gazed at me expectantly, and I gave her a reassuring grin, though I doubt whether she could spot it.“He’s innocent,” I told her. “The guy’s as honest and valiant as they come. You’ve got yourself a regular white knight here, honey. Chase Kingsley would never harm a woman or touch her in anger, nor force himself upon her. I’m pretty sure the commissioner and the mayor’s wife have been very naughty, and did a real number on the guy.”

“No wonder he looks so angry all the time,” she murmured, and I thought I could see a small smile tugging at her lips. My assessment of Chase had obviously pleased her, which just went to show I was right about them.

“So what doyou think, Dooley?” she asked, keen to get a second opinion. Her dad was a doctor, after all. Getting a second opinion was what they did.

“Max’s right,” muttered Dooley, not even bothering to open his eyes. “The guy is golden.”

“That settles it,” said Odelia, now looking grim. “I’m going to expose the commissioner and the mayor’s wife and clear Chase’s name.”

I looked up in alarm.“Um, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, honey.”

“Why not? He’s been wrongfully accused. You said so yourself. It’s my job to right this wrong. It’s what I do.”

Uh-oh. I shook my head.“If you’re going after those two they’ll simply deny the whole thing and get you fired. You’ll never work in this town again.”

“Ever, ever, ever again,” muttered Dooley, who was living proof that while cats might appear to be sleeping, they’re actually fully alert.

“They can’t do that!” Odelia cried. “He doesn’t have that authority. Dan would never fire me just because the NYPD commissioner says so.”

“No, but they could make your life very difficult,” I said. “These two are up there with the happy few, honey. They’ve got powerful friends who might put the squeeze on Dan and his advertisers until he’s forced to choose between you or the survival of his paper. No, if you’re going after those two you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way: by launching a smear campaign.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a reporter. You write the story and credit an anonymous source.” I pointed at myself and Dooley. “We’re your anonymous sources, honey.”

“But how can I go after him? I don’t have a single shred of proof.”

“Leave that to us,” I said. “First we’ll find ourselves a witness of the commissioner’s indiscretions, and then we’ll get you your proof. Like I said, someone somewhere saw those two, and, like with cats, nowadays smartphones are pretty much ubiquitous, so someone’s bound to have snapped a picture, even if they don’t know its importance. And once those pictures surface, they’ll corroborate the story you’re about to write.”

She smiled down at me.“You guys are really special, do you know that?”

“I do know that,” I acknowledged. “Of course we’re special.”

“Just like Babe,” Dooley muttered.

“Just like Babe,” I said. Dooley had been right all along. We were special, and we didn’t even have to speak sheep to prove it. Or dance like penguins.

Chapter 16

Odelia pulled the car up in front of the police station, and let the cats out. Dooley seemed reluctant to be shifted, so Max gave him a poke and he finally relented, muttering something about never being allowed to get any sleep.

“We have a job to do, Dooley,” said Max solemnly. “Sleep can wait.”

She watched the two cats stalk off, launching their all-important mission, and smiled to herself. If it hadn’t been for her special talent of being able to talk to cats, her life would have looked quite different. She walked into the police station and waltzed straight past Dolores, who announced that this time the chief was in, and would be more than happy to see her.

Happy or not, he was going to see her anyway. She needed to know what the medical examiner had discovered.

“Hey, Odelia,” said her uncle when she breezed into his office. “I was just going to call you.” And he held up his phone as proof of these words.

She plunked down in a chair and gave him a tense look. All this business with Chase had only served to take her mind off the murder case, which was probably a whole lot more important than whether the detective was innocent of the crime he’d been accused of or not.

“Shoot,” she finally said. “How did Paulo Frey die?”

“Well,” said her uncle, leaning back in his chair, “looks like bludgeoning.”

“Bludgeoning?”

“The guy had his head smashed in. And since we found a poker next to the body, that just might be our murder weapon. Especially since it was a little bent out of shape, exactly the shape of a person’s head, actually.”

She whistled through her teeth.“That must have been some hit.”

“Yeah, whoever killed him hit him so hard they fractured his skull, which, according to the ME, is what caused his death. And a good thing, too.”

“That’s a little harsh. You didn’t even know the guy.”

Her uncle emitted a chuckle.“I mean that if he’d been stabbed or had his throat slit we might never have found out, as the body was too decomposed.”

“Anything else? Chase told me you pinpointed time of death?”