Purrfect Revenge

Chapter 8

“I’m starting to think they’re all guilty.”

“How do you figure?”

“Shayonne told me the murder is the best thing that could have happened to them.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “She said that?”

“Yep. The show’s been dropping in the ratings, and the murder will turn that around. Put them right back on top.”

“That’s just cold.”

“Which is why I think they might have set this up together.”

“You mean the whole family is in on this?”

“That’s exactly what I think. They needed to salvage their show so they decided to sacrifice one of them.” Now that she spoke the words out loud, it sounded a bit far-fetched. Still, it was a plausible theory. Fairly plausible.

“That’s just crazy, Poole.”

Or not.

“The Kenspeckles might be a little dysfunctional, but they’re not killers.”

She watched as the cameras started rolling again. On cue, Shayonne and Shalonda broke down in tears, clutching at each other for support.

“A little dysfunctional?” she asked.

“Well, maybe a lot dysfunctional. But that doesn’t make them killers.”

“So what’s next?” She had no idea how to conduct a police investigation. This was the first time she was on the inside, not on the outside looking in.

“I got a message from your uncle just before,” Chase said. “He’s cutting his vacation short and will be back tomorrow.”

“What? He was looking forward to that fishing trip.”

“The mayor is considering calling in the FBI so he needs to be here to convince him otherwise.”

She made a mental eye roll. “The FBI? This is a local investigation.”

“Apparently the Kenspeckles are considered a national treasure.”

She watched as Shayonne and Shalonda stood hamming it up in front of the camera and shook her head. “Some national treasure.”

He grinned. “There’s that sarcasm again.”

“Nope. Like I said, I don’t do sarcasm. Not me.”

“Let’s see if your uncle can persuade the mayor to keep the FBI out of this. First things first: we need to set up interviews with everyone involved.”

“What about the note?”

“What about it?”

“What does it say?”

He slipped his iPhone from his back pocket and showed her a snapshot of the note. “We fed it into Google Translate and it spat out this message.”

She took his phone and read out loud, "You deserve to die, Shana Kenspeckle. You are dog excrement. In fact you're less than dog excrement. You're the fly on dog excrement. In fact you're the excrement from the fly on dog excrement. Or the ameba on the fly's excrement." It went on like this for a while. The final sentence read, "Hellfire will rain down on you and your filthy brood. This is just the beginning." She handed him back his phone. "I guess the killer is not a big Kenspeckle fan."

“The fact that these phrases came out in perfect English means the original message was written in English and then translated with Google Translate. Otherwise only gobbledygook would have come out. Which means—”

“This was a pretty feeble attempt to make it look like a terrorist attack.”

He smiled. “Which tells us the killer isn’t a professional.”

She wondered whether to tell him they were looking for a blood-splattered black robe and mask. But since she couldn’t tell him about the robe without revealing her secret, she decided to keep mum. It didn’t matter anyway, as Clarice hadn’t gotten a look at the killer’s face.

Chase headed for the bedroom and she followed him. She stared down at the bed. The coroner’s people had stripped the sheets for evidence but had left the stained mattress. “The killer was smart,” Chase said. “Abe found traces of chloroform in all the bedrooms. All the Kenspeckles were drugged.”

“What about the film crew?”

“Nope. Not a trace. But since they’re staying at the guest house and aren’t allowed in the main house when shooting wraps that wasn’t necessary.”

“They’re not allowed inside the house?”

“The Kenspeckles have strict rules about it. They cherish their privacy.”

“Except when they don’t. Like when they share every private moment with a worldwide audience.”

He smiled. “Ah, but they only show you what they want you to see.”

She nodded. “So did you check the rooms for prints?” Dumb question. The guy was a bonafide detective. And the killer had probably worn gloves.

"Well, we tried, but the Kenspeckles gave us a lot of lip. Any normal family would have canceled their trip, moved to a hotel until they could catch a flight home, and given us free reign to search the place top to bottom. But the sisters are adamant to stay here and finish the shoot."

“They’re giving you a hard time.”

“They sure are. And I don’t even know why. It’s almost as if they don’t want us to find the killer.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he said, “And don’t give me that ‘The whole family is in on this’ nonsense, Poole.”

She quickly closed her mouth again. No, that was just a crazy theory.

She glanced at the window, where Clarice must have been watching the killer. Chills ran down her spine. What a horrible scene to watch. A thought occurred to her. “The killer must have known his way around the place.”

Chase nodded, a sparkle in his eye. “Uh-huh.”

“He also knew the film crew would never set foot inside the house after filming was finished for the day. And he also had access to the house.”

“Go on.”

She smiled. “This was an inside job. The killer was either a family member or security personnel. They were the only ones with access.”

“Your uncle Alec was right,” he said with a grin. “You’re pretty astute.”

“Watch me. I’ll catch this killer before you can say ‘fly excrement.’”

“Fly excrement.”

“Smart-ass.”