“Oh, sure,” said Gran. “They fight all the time. And then they make up. Cats are just like humans. They just love the drama.”
Harriet grinned a little shamefacedly. “Busted,” she murmured.
Bruno the security guard who’d chucked us out twice in two days, now came legging up to us. “What are you folks still doing here? I thought I told you to clear out?”
“You can’t tell a cop to clear out, you bozo,” said Gran, assuming fighting position, which in her case was balling her fists and drawing back her bony shoulders.
The burly guard grinned as he watched the old lady square off against him. “Hold your horses, Mrs. Muffin,” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just saying you folks probably shouldn’t go around impersonating Russian billionaires if you want to get anywhere with your investigation.”
“What do you know about our investigation?” asked Scarlett, stepping forward.
The big guy shrugged. “The dead girl? Word is she might be the big boss’s wife?”
“Is that what people are saying?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, It’s what everyone is saying.” He darted a glance in Chase’s direction. “So is it true? Is it really her?”
“The results of the autopsy aren’t in yet,” said Chase. “But I doubt it’s actually her.”
“So then who is she?”
“Could be anyone,” said Chase with a shrug. As usual he was playing his cards close to his vest and not letting on what he thought was going on.
“What’s all this about a succession fight?” asked Odelia, ever the reporter.
Bruno the guard grinned. “So now I’m the one being grilled, huh?” He scratched his scalp. “They don’t tell us much, but rumor has it that old Mr. Gardner is trying to set up a new management team, and getting rid of his nephew and his sister. Something Marcia and Bobby aren’t happy with. If it’s true, there’s going to be a big fight, I can tell you.”
“Blood in the water,” Harriet repeated.
“And what about Vicky Gardner?” asked Odelia. “What are people saying about her disappearance?”
“Well, the old-timers, the ones who knew her, say she just vanished one day without a trace. Mr. Gardner was still in charge back then. The moment she disappeared he was just devastated. And in the course of the next couple of weeks, while the police searched high and low, the guy just went completely to pieces. Stopped coming in. And that’s when his nephew took over, and he’s been here ever since.” He gave them a curt nod. “And now will you please get lost before I get in trouble?”
And so we all got lost, as requested.
Chapter 31
“I can’t get a hold of her,” Chase complained as they were driving over to where Marcia Gardner lived.
“Can’t we simply show up on her doorstep?” Odelia suggested.
“Yeah, but what if she refuses to let us in? I don’t have a warrant.”
Odelia shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”
Chase smiled. “You should have been a cop, babe.”
“Which is what my uncle keeps telling me,” she said as Chase steered his car in the direction of the neighborhood where both Maria Gardner and her brother lived. Called Greenleaf, it was home to many statuesque villas and mansions and was where some of the town’s old guard lived—dotted with some stylish but very expensive real estate.
“How are you guys holding up back there?” asked Odelia, glancing back at her contingent of cats.
All four of them were seated in a row, uncharacteristically quiet for a change.
“We’re fine,” said Max, holding up two paws in lieu of his non-existent thumbs.
“What did he say?” asked Chase, as usual fascinated with her ability to talk to her pets.
“That they’re fine,” she said as Chase took a turn and checked his GPS for a moment.
“I hope that pigeon isn’t out there,” said Max, as he glanced through the window and up at the sky.
“Yeah, what’s the story with that bird?” asked Odelia. “Why is it coming after you?”
“I have absolutely no idea, except that it seems to hate me for some reason.”
“The pigeon?” asked Chase, inadvertently touching his face where the bird’s droppings had landed that morning.
She nodded. “It seems Max has made himself an enemy.”
“Maybe you tried to eat its little pigeons?” Harriet suggested.
“I would never—ever—try to eat a bird’s babies!” said Max, thrusting out his chest indignantly.
The four cats looked pretty funny, still dressed in their funky little jackets. Odelia smiled as she surveyed them. “Maybe you should keep those from now on,” she suggested. “You look really nice.”
“Really lame, you mean,” said Brutus as he helplessly tugged at his own specimen.
“Cats don’t like to be dressed up,” said Chase. “Contrary to dogs, who love that kind of stuff.”
She glanced over to her boyfriend with a measure of pleasant surprise. “You’ve been reading up on cats, haven’t you?”
“Of course I’ve been reading up! I’m dating the world’s biggest cat lady, so I have to keep up.”
“Good for you, babe.”
“Are you still going through with your plan to teach us how to swim, Odelia?” asked Harriet now.
“Sure. It’s important that you can save yourselves when you fall in. Don’t you agree?”
Four cats silently nodded with extreme reluctance and she grinned. If Chase thought they hated those outfits, he didn’t know how much more they hated his inflatable pool.
They’d finally arrived at the address Uncle Alec had given them for Marcia Gardner, and he parked across the street. Marcia lived in a three-story brownstone with a wrought-iron black fence in front, and three granite stairs leading up to the front door.
“My uncle sounded really dejected when I called him just now. Any idea why?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned back to offer the same courtesy to her cats.
“Must have something to do with Charlene,” said Chase. “She’s not talking to him, and he’s taking it pretty hard.”
“Such a shame,” she said. “I thought they were great together.”
“Yeah, me, too. I hope they can resolve their differences.”
“Uncle Alec and Charlene broke up?” Dooley cried. “But why?”
“Charlene thinks Uncle Alec called her old and ugly,” said Odelia, “even though I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. And now she’s refusing to talk to him.”
“Oh, no!” cried Dooley. “They have to make up.”
“It’s all right, Dooley,” said Max. “I’m sure they’ll find a way to get past this.”
“Dooley hates it when people don’t get along,” Odelia explained when Chase cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at the small cat’s sad mewls.
They all got out of the car and walked up to the brownstone. Chase took a deep breath and said, “Let’s do this, shall we?”
And then he was opening the wrought-iron little gate and climbing the stairs to the front door, one reporter and four cats in tow.
The door opened and an older lady appeared, well-dressed, well-coiffed and soft-spoken. “Yes?” she asked, surprised at the intrusion.
“Detective Chase Kingsley, ma’am,” said Chase, introducing his badge. “And this is Odelia Poole, the police department’s civilian consultant.”
Marcia Gardner glanced down. “And the cats? Are they also civilian consultants?”
A little embarrassed, Chase nodded. “Um… Yeah, they’re Miss Poole’s.”
Mrs. Gardner seemed amused by this. “Unusual,” she determined. “And am I supposed to let you all in now or what?”
“If we could have a moment of your time, then yes, please,” said Chase, ever the gentleman. “It’s in connection to the death of a young woman who was found yesterday. We talked to your brother last night, and we would like to have a word with you, too, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” said the refined lady. “Come in. I have to warn you, though, I have dogs—and they don’t take as kindly to unexpected visitors as I do—especially when they’re cats.”