“No, he prefers not to involve the police.”

  “Weird,” muttered the guy. “Usually Randy loves to go the cops. A couple of months ago a pigeon shat on his Ferrari and he immediately called the cops, claiming the pigeon probably belonged to one of his neighbors. So he filed an official complaint against person or persons unknown and against the offending pigeon in particular.”

  “A shitting pigeon is a different kettle of fish than a death threat,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, anyway, if he gets in touch with you again, please tell him to call me, will you? I’ve been worried sick.”

  “You have a close relationship with Randy?”

  “Oh, sure. I consider Randy more a friend than a client. If you’ve been in the trenches together for as long as we have, and came up together, it creates a bond, Miss Poole. Which is why I’m a little disappointed he hasn’t been in touch.” He shrugged. “This death threat business must have really spooked him.” Then he swallowed. “Unless…” He gave her a keen look—his shifty little eyes studying her closely. “Unless Randy thinks I’m the one behind the whole thing. That’s it, isn’t it? He thinks I’m the one threatening him.”

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding me? I just told you Randy is my friend. I would never… Besides, what’s the upshot? What…” He narrowed his eyes at her, looking more like a rat now than ever. “This is all about money, isn’t it? These people sending this video, they want money.”

  Odelia smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss—”

  “Look, if it’s money they want, they’re barking up the wrong tree. Randy is broke. Flat broke. So they’re targeting the wrong guy.”

  Odelia stared at the man. “Flat broke? Randy Hancock, the fitness millionaire?”

  Mr. Garter laughed. “Millionaire! That’s a good one, Miss Poole. Once upon a time, maybe. In the nineties. Since then he’s squandered his entire fortune. All of it. Gone!”

  “But… how?”

  The fitness guru’s manager tapped his nose. “Drugs. Randy has snorted more nose candy than anyone I know. And that’s saying something, as I know a lot of people.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I am. Dead serious. He’s been in and out of rehab countless times—not that the general public knows anything about this, of course. We carefully kept his addiction problems a secret. It wouldn’t do for the man known to the general public as the propounder of the fitness revolution to be a coke addict. Lately he’s gotten his disease under control, more or less. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s completely broke.”

  “But his videos—his fitness clubs…”

  “He sold his chain of clubs years ago. They still carry his name but they’re run by a group of investors. He gets some money for the use of his name and image, but less than you’d expect. And his videos stopped selling in the late nineties, earlies noughties. The home video market collapsed with the advent of the internet, and Randy completely missed the boat on that one. Too busy doing drugs to bother. Oh, he’s on YouTube now, but he was late to the party—too late. Other fitness gurus are riding that wave, not him. And also, he’s been down in the dumps these last couple of months, because of his pelvis operation.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell him I said this, but Randy Hancock, the fitness legend, hasn’t done a fitness routine or fitness class… in years.”

  24

  We’d only just entered the apartment of Randy Hancock’s manager when a smallish Siamese cat came stalking up to us and started hissing noisily.

  “It’s all right!” I said. “We’re not here to stay. Just to pay a visit to your human and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Literally,” said Harriet, who regarded a bit of fluff the Siamese had lost with a critical eye.

  “This is my home, cats,” said the Siamese. “So if you like your faces free of scratches I’d get out while you still can. I won’t be held responsible for the consequences!”

  “Oh, cool it, cat,” said Harriet. “We don’t want to be here either, but our human dragged us along on this investigation so here we are. Now what can you tell us about Randy Hancock? And please don’t hold back on the dirt you can dish on the guy. He’s sweet on our human and we don’t like it one bit.”

  The cat immediately stopped hissing, her interest piqued. “Randy Hancock? The fitness guy?”

  “One and the same,” I said, glancing around. We’d left the living room, where Odelia was conducting her interview, and had followed our noses until we found ourselves in the man’s bedroom, where we’d encountered this very hostile Siamese. Then again, hostility is often par for the course with the Siamese of the species.

  “How do you know Randy?” asked the cat, still continuing to be suspicious.

  “He’s moved in with us,” I said.

  “And having an affair with one of our humans,” Harriet added.

  “He’s going to marry her unless we can stop the wedding,” Dooley finished.

  “Marry your human!” said the cat. “Fat chance! Randy isn’t the marrying kind, cats.”

  “Max,” I said, holding out my paw. “And this is Dooley and Harriet.”

  “Freya,” said the Siamese reluctantly and eyed my paw with suspicion. “Look, Randy Hancock is the kind of guy who has affairs, but doesn’t want to be tied down. So if he’s managed to seduce your human, there will not be a marriage in his future.”

  “His future? Her future, you mean.”

  “Her? You mean your human is a woman?”

  “Sure. Marge Poole. She’s actually my human’s mom,” I explained.

  “Randy dating a woman,” said Freya with a slight grin, the first time she’d displayed any other emotion than sheer hostility. “Now I know you’re pulling my paw, Max. Randy Hancock might have become the go-to person for middle-aged ladies to lose some of that flab, but he’d never marry one of them, let alone try to seduce them.”

  “Why?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

  “Because Randy Hancock is gay, of course!” said Freya. “He has flings, not with women, but young men. Pool boys, waiters, masseurs, assistants—you name it, and he’s tried to make out with them. But women? Never. So your human is quite safe,” she concluded with that same grin still firmly attached to her furry features.

  “I don’t understand, Max,” said Dooley. “What is she talking about?”

  “Randy Hancock is gay, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Just like Lil Ran told us.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Dooley, surprising me by not asking a bunch of follow-up questions.

  “Do you know anything about a death threat Randy received?” I asked now, deciding to tackle the meat of our investigation.

  “Death threat? Why would Randy receive a death threat? He’s the sweetest guy I know.”

  “And the gayest,” Dooley added.

  “Yeah, that, too,” said Freya with a curious glance at my friend.

  “He received a video of someone injecting him with a lethal poison,” I explained. “And if he doesn’t pay this person ten million dollars, he won’t receive the antidote and he will die in three days,” I added, putting all the facts pertaining to the case in the Siamese cat’s possession, to do with as she pleased.

  “Wow, that’s terrible,” said the cat. “Three days to live, huh? And Randy not having any money to pay off these people. Not a dime.”

  “What do you mean?” I said. “I thought he was rich.”

  “Randy isn’t rich. He’s broke. My human has been working for him for free for the last couple of months, hoping he’ll go back to being his biggest moneymaker, but I think we can all agree that’s not going to happen. Not at his age, at least, and in his condition.”

  “What condition?” asked Harriet. “He looks fine to me.”

  “He’s not. He hasn’t performed a workout routine in years. Busted hips, and then he broke his pelvis a couple of months ago on top of that. It’s pretty tough to move like a panther when your hips are shot, let me tell you. And I can speak from experience.” She pointed at her own hips. “I’ve been having some issues and it’s not a barrel of laughs.”

  “But how did Randy’s hips get busted?” asked Dooley. “Did he do too much fitness?”

  Freya laughed. “Too much fitness, yeah right. Too much nookie, that’s what he did!”

  “Nookie?” asked Dooley, giving me a look of confusion.

  “Too much exercise,” I said quickly, earning myself a strange look from Freya.

  “And drugs, of course,” said the Siamese, who seemed to know an awful lot about our celebrity guest. “The man has managed to spend his entire fortune on nose candy, which is why there’s nothing left to pay off these blackmailers.”

  “Nose candy?” asked Dooley.

  “Candy you put in your nose,” I said. A little lamely, I admit, but I had to think fast.

  “Okay,” said my friend, but still had that puzzled look on his face that told me he’d be asking me a lot of questions later on.

  “Look, if I were you, I’d simply tell Randy to get his act together, and go to the police,” said Freya. “He’s not doing your humans any favors by hiding away there. If people are really after him it’s probably the dealers he forgot to pay, or the people he borrowed money from and didn’t pay back. And let me tell you, these people play hardball.”

  “I like my balls soft,” said Dooley. “Soft and squishy.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” said Freya with an amused expression on her face. It was a nice change from before, when she’d treated us like intruders in her home. “I like you, Dooley,” she said. “You’re very funny.”

  “Thanks,” said Dooley happily. “You’re pretty funny, too, Freya.”

  The Siamese cat laughed. “It’s the first time anyone has ever called me funny!”

  There has to be a first time for everything, and at least now we had enough dirt on Randy to convince Marge not to divorce Tex and marry the fitness guru. Though, like I said, love is blind, and we probably could use a lot more!

  25

  Tex went through the motions of giving his celebrity patient a full physical, though frankly he still thought it was a much better idea for the man to go to the hospital and get himself checked out properly. If he had been injected with some unknown toxin, Tex wouldn’t be able to help him anyway.

  “You know, Tex,” said Randy now, as Tex tapped the man’s knee with a little hammer and watched his leg bob up prettily, “you are a very lucky man.”

  “In what sense?” asked the doctor as he tapped the man’s other knee and noticed the same reaction.

  “Your wife,” said Randy with a smile. “You have a wonderful little lady there, Tex. Marge is something else.”

  The doctor directed a look of censure at the man. He didn’t like it when other men spoke of Marge this way. Overly familiar, he thought. “I know,” he said curtly.

  “No, I don’t think you do,” Randy continued. “How long have you been married, Tex?”

  “Twenty-five years,” said Tex automatically as he now shone a light into the man’s eye and observed his pupil response.

  “Long time for a couple to be married.”

  “Yeah, and happily married, too, in case you were wondering.”

  “Do you mind if I speak frankly, Tex?”

  He did, but instead said, “No, go ahead.”

  “I see a lot of couples in my line of work, as you can imagine. In fact I must have taught classes to thousands of people, men and women alike, but mostly women, and a lot of them are unhappy, Tex, and do you know why?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, as he wrapped an inflatable cuff around the man’s arm and started pumping.

  “Because their husbands take them for granted. These women sweat through countless hours of my fitness routines, all so they can look good to their husbands, and do you know how those husbands respond? By totally ignoring them! Can you imagine?”

  “Real shame,” Tex murmured, wondering when this guy was going to shut up. For a man who was about to die he was pretty darn lively.

  “When was the last time you took Marge out on a date, Tex?”

  “A date? Um…”

  “That long, huh?” said Randy with a sad smile. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Tex. Don’t take your wife for granted. One day you will come home and she won’t be there.”

  He gave his patient a look of alarm. “What do you mean? Has she said something to you about leaving?”

  “No, but I can see it in her eyes. Marge is unhappy, Tex. She misses the spark.”

  “Spark? What spark? What are you talking about?”

  “The spark! When a man meets a woman and there’s that spark—that moment when they look into each other’s eyes and sparks fly. You know what I mean. But after twenty-five years of marriage that spark is long gone, and your wife, Doctor Poole, misses it.”

  “She does, does she?”

  “Of course she does! Here, look me in the eye, Tex.”

  Reluctantly Tex looked the man in the eye.

  “Now take my hands.”

  He took the fitness legend’s hands, which were surprisingly soft and tender.

  Randy smiled as he gazed softly into Tex’s eyes, then said. “Now pay attention.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the way this scene was playing out.

  “Do you feel it, Tex?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The connection. Do you feel the connection?”

  “Um…”

  Randy dropped Tex’s hands and sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, Tex. No wonder Marge is thinking about leaving you! You gotta make an effort, Doc. You gotta make an effort to make this marriage of yours work—to recapture that spark!”

  “But…” He was so shocked to hear that Marge was thinking about leaving him that his knees suddenly went a little weak, and a shiver ran down his spine. “Are you serious, Randy?”

  “Just call me Ran-Ran. Yeah, I’m serious. She practically threw herself into my arms last night, Doc. Lucky for you I don’t swing that way, but imagine if I did.”

  Tex imagined, and shivered some more. In fact he was quaking so much now he felt like a blancmange. “You’re kidding, right? Pulling my leg?” he asked hopefully.

  “I’m dead serious here, Tex. So my advice to you is to find that spark before you find your bed not slept in, and your wife’s suitcase packed in the corridor. It’s not too late, you know. She still loves you. Now please let go before you reduce my fingers to a pulp.”

  Tex, who’d been squeezing the fitness guru’s fingers tightly, let go, swaying a little in the breeze.

  “Come here, Doc,” said Randy, and took the doctor in a close embrace, rubbing his back as he did. “That’s it. Just let it all out.”

  “I didn’t know,” he said shakily.

  “I know. Men never do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Oh, heck.”

  “I know.” There was more rubbing, and it felt kinda soothing. And so the two men stood there for a while, until Randy said, “Chase Kingsley and your daughter. Are they the real deal, you think? Or do I have a shot?”

  Immediately Tex let go and eyed the man with a look of censure. “What?”

  “Nothing,” said Randy with a shrug, then climbed onto the exam table again. “Keep going, Doc. You’ve got great hands. I’ve almost forgotten I’m about to die in three days.”

  Immediately Tex felt bad about his attitude toward this poor guy. “I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “It’s just that…”

  “I know, I know. Say, do you give back rubs, Doc? With hands like yours I’ll bet you give a great massage.” And with these words, he abruptly stripped and plunked himself down on the exam table. “Start from the bottom,” he instructed. “And you can be as rough as you like. I get ticklish when massage therapists are too gentle.”

  And so for the first time in his life Tex found himself being reduced to masseur, wondering how in heaven’s name he was going to get the ‘spark’ back into his marriage.

  26

  Vesta Muffin was enjoying a hot cocoa with lots of cream and chocolate sprinkles on top. She and Scarlett were in the outside dining area of the Hampton Cove Star hotel.

  “I don’t know, Scarlett,” she said as she took a sip from her delicious drink, “but I think from now on it’s just you and me.”

  “Are you sure?” said her friend, who was sipping from her own drink, a flat white, then taking a bite of the mini pastries the waiter had been so kind to provide.

  As usual Scarlett was dressed to impress in a tight dress, her assets squeezed so tightly together it gave Vesta a headache to look at them. Men passing by cricked their necks turning to stare at her, and the local chiropractor would soon have a field day.

  “Yeah, Wilbur was a washout, and I don’t want him in the watch anymore. And Father Reilly is pretty useless as a watch member too, you gotta admit.”

  “Yeah, I guess he is,” said Scarlett. She sighed. “So it’s just you and me, huh?”

  “Yep. That’s the way it looks.”

  “Too bad things didn’t work out with Wilbur,” said Scarlett. “Maybe you caught him on a bad night?”

  “More like a bad decade. He’s always been an idiot, but never more so than last night. Do you know he kept ogling other women while he was supposed to be out on a date with me? I hate when men do that.”

  “Yeah, Wilbur fashions himself something of a ladies’ man, but there’s not many ladies who want a man like that.”

  “So why did you set me up on a date with the guy, may I ask?”

  “Well, frankly there’s not many men who want to go out on a date with you either, Vesta! You are a little… rough around the edges, you know.”

  Vesta knew perfectly well that she wasn’t everyone’s taste, but to hear it from the lips of her best friend… “So maybe you should stop trying to set me up, all right?”