Purrfect Peril

Chapter 1

Odelia Poole walked briskly along the street, her purse hiked high, her light blond hair bouncing jauntily around her shoulders, her slender frame clad in her usual work costume of white T, jeans and sneakers. She was on her way to one of the more exciting interviews of her career as a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette. Perhaps even the Most Exciting Interview in the World, she thought with a slight grin, as the interviewee she was about to meet was an actor who had made a name for himself as the Most Fascinating Man in the World, featuring in dozens of well-received ad campaigns for Dos Siglas beer.

Initially her editor Dan Goory had wanted to conduct the interview, big fan as he was of Burt Goldsmith and the man’s body of work. But Odelia had insisted. She couldn’t wait to meet the man—the legend—the icon. She had her list of questions written out, the recording app on her phone ready, and only a few more minutes separated her from the sit-down.

She glanced up at the Hampton Cove Star, the boutique hotel in downtown Hampton Cove, located right across the street from the Vickery General Store on Main Street, where all Hampton Covians like to stock up on supplies and shoot the breeze with Wilber Vickery, store owner and one of the town’s mainstays and longtime citizens.

She waved a jolly hello to Wilber, who stood greeting the customers in front of his store, and was just about to enter the hotel when a familiar figure rounded the corner and gave her a happy smile. It was the bespectacled figure of Philippe Goldsmith, Burt’s grandson and the person who’d set up the interview.

She halted in her tracks and returned the young man’s smile. Philippe didn’t look anything like his famous grandfather. He was in his mid-twenties, pale to the point of pasty, pudgy to the point of chubby, and nerdy to the point of Big Bang’s Sheldon Cooper awkward. Philippe dragged a hand through his straggly dark hair, pushed his horn-rimmed spectacles up his bulbous nose, and gave her a hesitant smile. “Oh, hi, Miss Poole,” he said.

“Hey, Philippe. Out shopping?”

He glanced down at the bulky bag he was carrying. “Oh, right. Yes. Yeah, just picking up some supplies for my granddad. The man enjoys his creature comforts.” He pulled a carton box from the bag. Judging from the label it held a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck champagne. He held it up. “He uses this as conditioner if you can believe it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Conditioner?”

“Yeah, he says nothing tones and moisturizes the scalp like high-quality bubbly. In fact he credits champagne as the secret ingredient that has allowed him to keep his hair so luxuriant and shiny in spite of his advanced age.” He clasped a hand in front of his mouth. “Oops. I probably shouldn’t have said that. Especially to a reporter such as yourself.”

She laughed. “The advanced age bit or the champagne secret?”

“Both,” he said with an engaging grin. “Off the record?”

She nodded, tucking away these little tidbits for later use in her article.

“For a man who’s about to enter his eighth decade he looks remarkably well.”

“That’s definitely true,” she agreed. Though she’d wondered if it was Photoshop or Hollywood trickery that made Burt Goldsmith look so ageless. Apparently it wasn’t.

“Anyway, we better go up,” Philippe said. “Granddad doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I’m ready if you are.”

And Philippe had just opened his mouth to retort when there was an ear-splitting bang and something seemed to explode overhead. Odelia glanced up just in time to see flames shooting out from a second-floor window and a round object being catapulted down to the sidewalk. The round object came to a full stop against her foot, and as she looked down she saw that it was nothing other than the head of Burt Goldsmith himself.

The head was smoking, as if it had been on fire, and was still wearing that typical Most Fascinating Man in the World smirk, that roguish Sean Connery glint in those dark eyes, and a bemused expression on that handsomely bearded face. Burt Goldsmith’s lips were parted, as if on the verge of delivering his famous line, ‘Stay cool my friends.’

And as she stared down at the grotesque head in horror, she had to agree that Philippe was right: the man was remarkably well-preserved. Only now he was also very dead.

Next to her sounded a soft yelp, and the next moment Philippe had collapsed and was lying prostrate on the sidewalk, right next to the mortal remains of his famous granddad.

The Most Fascinating Grandson in the World had fainted.