Purrfect Secret

Chapter 36

Down at the precinct, Chase had just walked in when Dolores, who ruled over the station reception with an iron fist, yelled out, “Kingsley!”

He joined her at the front desk. “Dolores?”

Dolores was a big-boned woman with blond, curly hair, a no-nonsense expression tattooed on her face, and a fondness for mascara that made her look slightly scary. “You got a visitor, Kingsley.”

“Who is it? Santa?”

She grinned. “Santa only visits boys who’ve been good.”

“I’ve been good.”

“That’s not what I hear. Word on the street is that you’ve allowed yourself to be muscled out of the Chief’s niece’s house by his own damn mother!”

“Hey, what do you want me to do, Dolores? Kick out Odelia’s granny so I can move in?”

“You could make an honest woman out of Odelia by putting a ring on her finger.”

“And all this from the word on the street, huh?”

“The street is wise, Kingsley.”

“The street’s a wise-ass,” he said as he walked away. “Who’s my visitor?”

“Yasir Bellinowski. Said you’d told him to come in.”

And so he had. Only he’d never expected Mr. Bellinowski to actually comply.

He walked through the station office, where several of his colleagues were hard at work answering phone calls, typing out reports on their computers, and generally doing their darndest to keep the peace in the rustic little town of Hampton Cove.

Yasir Bellinowski was waiting in one of the interview rooms. He was dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit that probably cost more than Chase’s paycheck for that month, and was glancing annoyedly at a gold watch that might have cost more than Chase’s paycheck for the whole year. The man’s hair was slicked back, and Chase wondered if no one had bothered to tell him that people didn’t wear their hair like that anymore.

He waltzed in and took a seat across from the guy. “Mr. Bellinowski. I wasn’t expecting you.”

The other man smirked. “Don’t tell me. You’re pleasantly surprised.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that.” He opened a file folder on the table in front of him. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“Sure. Dickerson, right? Scumbag that got whacked the other day. So ask away, Detective. Do your worst.” He checked his watch again, auspiciously this time. “Though I should probably warn you I’m a busy man and I’ve got a busy schedule today.”

Bellinowski was rumored to be in charge of a network of illegal gambling outfits throughout the area, and was probably the biggest loan-shark in Hampton Cove. Chief Alec had been trying to put him out of business for years, but so far he’d dodged that bullet.

“So rumor has it that Dick Dickerson kept some files on you in his safe,” said Chase, deciding to cut to the chase. “And that you weren’t too happy about that.”

“So he might have kept tabs on me,” said Bellinowski with a shrug. “What can I say? The guy loved his celebrities.”

“And you consider yourself a celebrity, is that it?”

“Something like that,” the mobster said with a grin.

“I sure would like to know what was in those files, Yasir.”

“I couldn’t tell you. Probably a bunch of made-up stuff.”

“There’s also a rumor—”

“Don’t believe everything people tell you, Detective.”

“—that you once loaned some money to Van Wilcox. And when he wasn’t able to pay you back at the rates you like to charge he turned to Dickerson who decided to lean on you with some of the information he collected over the years. So you wiped Wilcox’s slate clean, even if that meant taking a huge loss yourself, and you’ve never forgiven Dickerson.”

“Rumors, rumors,” murmured Bellinowski, looking bored now. “What else have you got?”

“Does this man work for you?” asked Chase, placing a picture of a short guy with a strawberry nose and a purple spot on his upper lip on the table in front of Bellinowski.

He glanced at it. “Possibly. You’d have to ask my personnel manager.”

Bellinowski ran a few clubs in town, one of which, the Club Couture, was currently in vogue with the weekend crowd. He also organized the popular Beach Beats Festival in the summer, which attracted thousands of dance fans.

“What about this guy?” asked Chase, placing down another picture, this one of a tall man with a wispy little mustache.

“Did you really drag me in here to ask me about my staff, Detective? Cause quite frankly I’ve got better things to do.”

“What about this picture?”

Bellinowski glanced at the picture, then frowned. “A rose?”

“You are the current owner of the Happy Petals flower store on Grant Street?”

“You know I am.” For the first time he was looking a little flustered. “Why?”

“I think you know why, Yasir,” said Chase, leaning in. “I don’t know what Dickerson had on you but it must have been enough to make you go after him. So you hired two of your goons to steal a tanker full of duck poop from the Potbelly farm, empty out Dickerson’s safe to make whatever he had on you disappear forever, and then you made him go away forever as well. But not before you made it perfectly clear to him that you were the one that did this, by putting this picture in his safe. So he could have a good think before he died.”

Bellinowski arched an eyebrow. “This is all you got?” He picked up the picture and flicked it from the table. “A picture of a flower? Come on, dude. You can do better than that.” He got up and smoothed out his suit jacket. “Next time you call me in make sure you’ve got a real challenge for me, Detective. This?” He gestured at the file. “Not even the National Star would print this garbage. No, don’t get up. I’ll let myself out.”