She wondered what her mother was up to now, but was afraid to ask. First Tex had turned the basement into a rehearsal space for him and his two doctor friends. Together they were The Singing Doctors, and they were actually pretty good. They played jazz with Tex on vocals, Denby on drums and Cary Horsfield on guitar. They’d soon shaken up the lineup, though, when it turned out Tex couldn’t sing. Now Denby was the frontman, Tex played drums, and Cary still rocked the guitar. They were looking for a trumpet player but so far no other doctor had responded to their request to join the band.
Ma had quickly shown a keen interest in The Singing Doctors and had volunteered as backing vocalist. And to Marge’s amazement it had worked out pretty well. Tex and Mom had called a truce, and for the first time in years they’d actually gotten along.
And now this. Ma launching a solo career, with the assistance of her senior center buddies. She just hoped the new Beyoncé would keep things PC down there.
Odelia had just stepped out into the garden to get some fresh air when she bumped into Max and Dooley.
“Odelia!” said Max. “We’ve been looking for you!”
She quickly glanced around to see if anyone could overhear them, then asked, “So what did you find out so far?”
“Well, for one thing,” Max said, “Chickie’s former best friend Jamie Borowiak dropped by the house yesterday, and they had a flaming row about Chickie allegedly trying to steal Jamie’s boyfriend away from her.”
“Charlie Dieber?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” said Max.
“And this morning,” said Dooley, “Jamie came back, and she and Chickie made up.”
“Though we only have Chickie’s dog Boyce Catt’s word for that,” said Max.
“What else?” she said.
“Well, we just overheard a big man talk to someone named Weskit on the phone. He was talking about a promise Mr. Weskit made him, and sounded pretty desperate.”
“What did this big man look like?”
“He had no hair on top of his head and a very nice white mustache,” said Dooley.
Odelia nodded. “Tyson Wanicki and Laron Weskit. Who would have thought?”
“Oh, and Harriet claims she cracked the case,” said Max, “but she refused to tell us how. So you’ll have to ask her what she found out.”
“She talked to the same big bird we did, though,” said Dooley, “so chances are that Mark—that’s the big bird’s name—told her the same thing he told us.”
“About Jamie and Chickie having a big fight over Charlie Dieber,” Max clarified.
“Great job, you guys,” Odelia said as she pressed kisses on top of her cats’ heads. And as she straightened, she caught sight of Tyson as he stood smoking a cigarette on the deck. She quickly made a beeline for the security man.
“Tyson? Can I have a quick word?”
“Sure, Miss Poole.”
“So we’ve talked to Hortense, and also to Yuki and Nickie, and so far the picture I have of what happened this morning is becoming a little clearer. And I was hoping you’d be able to confirm certain details.”
“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you need.”
“So Jamie was here early this morning? And she and Chickie met in the dance studio?”
“That’s correct. Jamie is one of Chickie’s oldest friends, and she always got access to her. Though this morning Chickie didn’t seem very happy when I ushered Jamie in.”
“They had a fight yesterday,” Odelia explained.
“Oh, right. That would explain the frosty reception.”
“When did Jamie leave?”
“Um, just after six, I would say.”
“And Chickie was still alive at that time?”
“Yes, she was. I saw her myself. She told me she didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“And did anyone else drop by after Jamie left?”
“Nobody.”
“So where were you when Chickie was holed up in her studio?”
“In the kitchen, having breakfast,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.
“How many security people were watching the Hay family this morning?”
“Um, there’s a crew of five.”
“And you’re the person in charge?”
“Yes. I tell them where to go and what to watch out for. The house has a top-of-the-line security system. No one gets in or out without being seen. We have motion sensors and security cameras. Also, two people walk the perimeter, keeping their eyes peeled.”
“So… correct me if I’m wrong…”
“Yes, Miss Poole?”
“No one came into the house after Jamie left. And the house was so well-guarded you would have noticed if anyone did.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And yet Chickie was killed somewhere between…”
“The last time I saw her was at six thirty.”
“And Hortense found her at seven. So she was killed between six thirty and seven.”
The man nodded.
“So this must be an inside job, no question about it.”
“Yes,” Tyson agreed. “Someone who was already in the house must have killed her.”
“And only you were here, and your team, and Nickie, Yuki, Hortense…”
“And half a dozen staff.”
She gave the man a pointed look. “You do realize you’ve just incriminated yourself, don’t you, Tyson?”
“Oh, no, Miss Poole. I would never do anything to harm Miss Hay.”
“Is it true you’ve been in contact with Laron Weskit recently, Tyson?”
His eyes went wide and he stammered for a moment, but then finally cast down his eyes. “Yes, Miss Poole. Yes, I have.”
Chapter 11
It was our opportunity to listen in on a real-live interrogation and we weren’t going to miss it for the world. Odelia was grilling a potential killer. Dooley and I sat around, casually being inconspicuous, while Odelia asked this bodyguard a couple of zingers.
“Is this what a detective does, Max?” asked Dooley, and I confirmed that this was exactly what a detective did, which, in a sense, Odelia was and more.
“Laron Weskit contacted me last year,” said Tyson. He’d lit up another cigarette and was taking a long, fortifying drag. “He and Chickie had fallen out by then and she was in search of a new record company, ready to sign a contract for her next couple of albums. Laron needed someone on the inside, and asked me to be his eyes and ears.”
“He wanted you to spy on Chickie.”
“Yes, that’s what it boiled down to. He said Chickie had abandoned him, and it was only a matter of time before she did the same to me.”
“Did she have a history of dumping business associates, or members of staff?”
“Not that I was aware of. Most people left after working for her for a while. Chickie was a perfectionist, and if you didn’t do things exactly the way she liked, she could really haul you over the coals. So I knew Laron had a point. Sooner or later I’d make a mistake and it would be my ass on the line. So I decided to take him up on his offer.”
“Which was?”
“If I kept him informed of which record companies Chickie was in contact with, and the state of the negotiations, he’d recommend me to the stars he had under contract.”
“Do you think Laron is the kind of man capable of murder?” she asked.
“I doubt it. Laron is a businessman, not a killer.”
“Yes, but we all know what happens when an artist dies, Tyson.”
He looked puzzled. “I don’t…”
“The value of their catalog goes up. And Laron Weskit owns the rights to all of Chickie’s old songs, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” the man confirmed.
“It’s a strong motive for murder, Tyson. Was Chickie’s new album ready?”
“I… I’m not sure. Chickie was very secretive about it. She didn’t confide in a lot of people. Not even her own family. Only last week Yuki complained she hadn’t heard the new songs yet.”
“Who had heard those new songs?”
“Um, just the producer, I guess.”