Odelia gulped slightly. It was one thing to be a fan of this young man, but another to be confronted with this wealth of self-absorption and vanity. Then again, if you’re going to become a global pop star, a healthy dose of egomania probably comes with the territory.

  “Where is everybody?” asked Chase as they sauntered through the living room.

  “They’re probably in mourning,” said Odelia. “Or hunkered down in the basement bunker, trying to come up with a strategy on how to deal with this attack on Charlie’s life.”

  They entered a large kitchen, and came upon a beehive of activity—three chefs cooking up a storm while servers came and went, carrying trays and silver platters.

  More trays stood on the countertops, laden with hors-d’oeuvres and other amuse-bouches, while dozens of flutes were being filled with pink champagne by rattled-looking kitchen personnel, before being snapped up by the servers and carted outside.

  Noise and music had them both turn in the direction of the window, and that’s when Odelia saw that a pool party was in full swing. Girls in bikinis were jumping into the pool and playing a game of water ball, while dozens of others stood rocking out to loud music.

  “Um, what was that you said about Dieber being in mourning?” asked Chase.

  She slowly hitched up the jaw that had dropped and stared at the scene. In light of the recent death of one of the pop star’s bodyguards, this all seemed very inappropriate and more than a little disrespectful. “Maybe this is the way he deals with loss?” she tried lamely.

  “Yeah, right,” Chase grunted. He clearly wasn’t buying it, and frankly neither was she. “Let’s go outside and have a chat with our chief mourner,” he suggested.

  They stepped out onto the deck, and mingled with the raving crowd. The music was loud and Odelia recognized it as part of a remix of Dieber songs by the world’s top DJs. She actually had the same compilation on her phone, and enjoyed listening to it at the gym.

  Now she doubted if she’d ever be able to enjoy it in quite the same way again.

  A freakishly muscular young man bumped up against her. “Hey, babe! Wanna get nekkid with me?”

  “No, I don’t want to get ‘nekkid’ with you,” she snapped, and ignored Chase’s grin.

  “Wanna do some blow? Snort some coke?” the guy asked, a strange gleam in his eyes. She recognized the gleam. He was clearly high on the stuff he was hawking.

  Chase held up his badge. “Police. Get lost, buddy.”

  In spite of his state of inebriation, the guy got the message and took a hike.

  “Nice wake,” said Chase. “I’m sure the family of Ray Cooper will be thrilled.”

  Odelia merely shook her head. And that’s when she spotted the man of the hour. Charlie Dieber was seated in a lounge next to the pool, stroking… “Harriet!”

  “Huh?” Chase asked.

  “Look—it’s my mom’s cat.”

  He looked where she indicated, and muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s Diego.”

  Diego had belonged to Chase’s mom, before she’d offloaded him on her son when her health didn’t allow her to take care of him herself. And since Chase was bunking with Uncle Alec, and was rarely home, he’d asked the Pooles to look after the orange cat.

  Odelia hurried over, and saw that all her cats were present and accounted for: Brutus, Dooley, Max, Harriet and Diego. Even Clarice was there, the feral cat Max had befriended.

  And she’d just joined Charlie when she heard him say, “I’m adopting you, beautiful.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said, and snatched Harriet from the singer’s paws. “This is my cat,” she said. “Or at least my mother’s.”

  Charlie gave her a grin. “Hey, babe. Wanna get nekkid and jump in the pool with me? I’ll bet you’re one hell of a swimmer.”

  Chase took out his badge again and flashed it in the singer’s face. “Wanna get nekkid with me, douchebag? I know some great wrestling moves.”

  Charlie held up his hands. “Chill, dude. I’m just trying to have some fun.”

  “You’ve got a strange idea of fun—stealing someone else’s cat.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t stealing anyone’s cat. I just like cats.” He smiled. “I like to call them my Dieber Babes.” He gave Clarice’s fur a stroke. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

  Clarice emitted a soft purring sound that Odelia had never heard her produce before. She looked different, too. Less mangy.

  “How much do you want for the Persian?” asked Charlie now. “I want her. And what the Dieber wants, the Dieber gets.”

  “I’m going to have to disappoint you, Charlie,” Odelia said, becoming indignant now. “Harriet is not for sale.”

  “She isn’t, huh? How about the orange one?”

  “That’s my cat,” said Chase, “and he’s not for sale either.”

  “Oh, he’s a he, huh? My bad. Yeah, I don’t do dudes, only babes.” Charlie darted a quick glance at Brutus and Dooley, but didn’t seem to deem them worthy of inclusion in his harem either. “So I guess it’s ‘peace, out’ from me then, suckers.” He held up his index and middle finger, kissed them and stalked off, moving in an awkward swaying motion. He was wearing his cap with the bill backwards, and baggy pants that showed a good deal of crack. Odelia shook her head. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure if she still wanted to be a Bedieber.

  Chapter 11

  Odelia and Chase finally sat down with Carlos Roulston, the person in charge of security. Roulston was easily twice the size of Chase, who was by no means a scrawny chicken himself. Roulston’s head was shaved in an intricate pattern that reminded Odelia of Egyptian hieroglyphs for some reason, and his skin was tanned to a tawny leather, his broad features stoic and unsmiling. Here sat a man who wouldn’t be trifled with, she felt.

  “Terrible business,” the security professional intimated. “Ray was a great guy. Real team player.”

  They were seated in the coolness of the security head’s office on the first floor. Like the man himself, the office was no-nonsense—just a desk, a couple of chairs, a small salon with coffee table and two couches, and a wall-mounted cabinet that may or may not have contained the small arsenal Charlie Dieber’s security detail presumably had at their disposal. What struck Odelia was that there were no pictures of Charlie anywhere in evidence.

  “So what can you tell us about threats?” asked Chase, leaning forward. “Has anyone made any threats against Charlie’s life in the recent past?”

  “Dozens. There’s a lot of nutcases out there, Detective, I don’t have to tell you that. The moment you become famous and people write about you, the crazies come out in droves.”

  “You mean, like, letters, emails, social media, what?”

  “All of the above.” He opened a desk drawer and took out a file folder and placed it on the desk. Odelia opened it and found herself looking at a pile an inch thick of letters, cards, napkins, beer coasters, pictures, screenshots… She picked out a few and read the scribbled messages. ‘You’re a dead man, Dweeber.’ ‘I’m coming for you, singer boy.’ ‘We all hate you.’ ‘You’re Satan’s spawn and Jesus will wipe you out in the coming apocalypse.’

  Roulston cracked his knuckles. “Like I said. There’s a lot of crazies out there.”

  “Anything that sticks out?” asked Chase. “Anyone in particular you think might have come after your employer?”

  “If you’re asking me if anyone has called in and claimed responsibility for the attack, no, they haven’t. And frankly I don’t expect them to, either. This is some loner crackpot. A loner crackpot with a gun. Have your people determined the type of weapon that was used?”

  “Colt Cobra,” said Chase.

  Roulston frowned. “The .38 special. That’s a short-range weapon. I would have thought he was shot from a distance. Sniper style.”

  “No, it would appear that the killer was fairly close. Ballistics places the shooter at no more than ten feet.”

  Jefferson brushed his hand across his bristly buzzcut, a confused frown on his face. “Ten feet, huh? That means the shooter was in the crowd. For some reason I thought he was on the roof, scoping us out. Did you talk to the people closest to where Ray was shot?”

  “We’re still interviewing people. We also confiscated their phones and have downloaded all digital imagery taken at the scene.”

  “And?”

  “So far nothing.”

  “That’s weird. Someone must have seen something.”

  “There were dozens of people present, Mr. Roulston,” said Odelia. “It’ll take us a little time to talk to all of them, and cross-reference the witness reports.”

  There was a knock at the door, and four more people entered, three men and one woman. “I want to introduce you to my team,” said Roulston, getting up. “Team, this is Detective Chase Kingsley—in charge of the investigation—and Odelia Poole. She’s like the Rick Castle addition to the Hampton Cove Police Department if you will.”

  “Only I’m not a writer,” Odelia quipped.

  “Too bad. You could have worn one of those bulletproof vests with the word WRITER written across the front and back,” said Roulston. “I want you to meet Luca Elrott, Toby Mulvaney, Jason Nugent and Regan Lightbody. They were all part of the close protection team this morning. I had more people out there, but they were in charge of crowd control.”

  Odelia and Chase turned their chairs around, while the foursome took a seat in the small salon. They looked downcast, which was a big difference to the hard-partying star they were all hired to protect. These people clearly cared about the man who had died.

  “So what can you tell us about what happened this morning?” asked Chase.

  Regan Lightbody shrugged. She was small but wiry and looked more impacted than her colleagues. “Ray was a great guy. He didn’t deserve this.” She glanced up, her amber eyes finding Odelia’s. “You’re going to find out anyway, so it’s better you hear this from me. Ray and I were an item. We’d been dating on and off ever since we began working for Charlie.” She darted a quick look at one of the other guards, who looked away.

  Now Odelia understood why Regan seemed so crushed. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly.

  Regan nodded and wiped at her eyes. “He was a goof, no doubt about it, but the moment we were out there he got into the zone and was the consummate professional.”

  “He was,” Roulston confirmed. “One of the best guys I ever worked with.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the others. “Yeah, Ray was a super guy. Fun to hang out with, and he always had your back,” said Toby, a red-haired guy with a ready smile. “We’re going to miss him.”

  “Did any of you catch a glimpse of the killer?” asked Chase. When they all shook their heads, he added, “Anything unusual happen? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “The shot came completely out of the blue,” said Jason Nugent, a tough-looking guy with a busted nose and a sliced eyebrow. “The moment it happened we just bundled Charlie into the car and took off. I was in the car with him, so I didn’t see a thing.” He turned to Regan. “You stayed behind. Did you see anything?”

  “Nothing. It’s almost as if this guy is a ghost. All I could see were those same teens that come out every time Charlie steps out—nothing that set off any alarm bells.”

  “I didn’t see nothing, either,” said Luca in somber tones. “The thing is, when you enter this field you know that one day something like this might happen. You prepare for it, mentally and physically. But when it actually happens, like it did today? You realize nothing can prepare you.” His face hardened. “We lost a friend today—a comrade. So promise me one thing, all right? You catch this bastard. You catch the bastard that did this, you hear me?”

  “We hear you loud and clear, Luca,” said Chase, nodding.

  “We promise,” said Odelia, greatly touched. “We’ll find your friend’s killer.”

  “Ray gave his life for the Dieber. The man’s a hero. He deserves to get justice.”

  Chapter 12

  The arrival of Diego and Harriet on the scene had dampened my initial excitement about seeing Clarice and really digging into this latest murder mystery. I’d been so eager to talk to Dieber’s cat menagerie but Diego had spoiled the fun for me. It almost appeared as if he was the kryptonite to my Superman. The mere sight of him simply deflated me and robbed me of any desire to get out there and figure out who might have it in for the Dieber.

  So when Odelia stepped onto the deck and gave me a nod of the head, indicating it was time to go, I was actually glad. At least I’d asked Clarice to snoop around, to which she graciously agreed. If I couldn’t play Sherlock Holmes, I had a proxy who would do the honors.

  On the ride back to the house, Chase’s car looked more like an animal control van, minus the partition and the atmosphere of fear. There was a lot of loathing, though.

  “You’re a liar, Diego,” Brutus was saying. “A big, fat liar and now we know.”

  “I wasn’t lying,” said Diego. “Merely easing you into a reality you’ll soon be facing. Odelia is sick and tired of you sticking to her like glue, Max. So you better be prepared.”

  “No, she’s not,” I said. “Odelia told me so herself. She’ll never get rid of us. Never.”

  “Duh. Of course she’s going to say that,” said Diego, rolling his eyes. “She’s not going to risk you running away before she drops you off at the pound and collects her fat fee.”

  I frowned at him. “What fat fee?”

  He gave me an innocent look. “Oh, you didn’t know? They pay good money for old cats. In fact they pay by the pound, so Odelia stands to get quite a fortune for you, Max.”

  I gasped, and cried, “Odelia! Diego says you’re going to sell me by the pound!”

  But unfortunately Chase was behind the wheel again, his ears pricking up at the sound of us cats duking it out, so Odelia was forced to ignore my heart cry.

  “How much will she get for me?” asked Dooley softly. “I mean, I’m small, so I’m bound to fetch a lot less than Max.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost not worth dumping you,” said Diego with a dismissive glance at my friend. “And as for you, Brutus, these places pay a premium for aggressive and dangerous animals such as yourself, as they’re glad to be rid of them, so you should fetch a nice bonus.”

  “You’re full of crap, Diego,” Brutus growled. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

  “Ignore me at your peril,” said Diego. “But don’t come crying to me when they come for you. I’ll be the one sitting pretty with my lovely girlfriend by my side.”

  Harriet, who’d been suspiciously quiet all through this conversation, now piped up. “Can’t you do anything to convince Odelia not to do this? I mean, Max and Dooley have been my friends since, like, forever, and Brutus has come to mean a great deal to me as well.”

  “I don’t know if she’ll listen to me, babe. She’s got her heart set on getting rid of the riffraff and focusing on her true treasures from now on.”

  “I can’t listen to this,” Brutus growled. “If you can’t see this cat for who he truly is, Harriet, there is no hope for you.”

  “I’m trying to help you out here, Brutus,” she snapped. “The least you can do is show me some respect.”

  “Respect! You threw me over for this oversized hairball and you want my respect?”

  “I’ve earned it,” she said, her tail swishing defiantly. “I was your girlfriend for a long time, Brutus. And even though we parted as friends, that doesn’t mean you can talk trash about me. Furthermore, I want you to refer to me as Miss Poole from now. Only true friends call me Harriet, and judging from your recent comments you, sir, are no friend of mine.”

  Brutus uttered a few choice curse words that no cat should ever employ, and Dooley covered his ears with his paws, visibly aghast at the level the cat had stooped to. This conversation was clearly getting out of hand and into the gutter. Which was why it was a good thing that we had finally arrived home, and Odelia opened the door to let us out.

  We instantly tripped up to the house, all of our tails held high, as a deadly silence descended over our small troupe of five.

  Once inside, I immediately set paw for my bowl. Ever since Diego had stolen my food last night, I’d been worried about my disappearing stash. To my relief, Odelia had filled my bowl to the brim, and I quickly set about devouring its contents with greedy gulps before Diego had a chance to gobble it all up again. And I’d reached the bottom of my bowl when I happened to glance over, and started when Tex appeared in the kitchen, dressed in coveralls and swinging a saw in one hand and a screwdriver in the other.

  “And? What do you think?” he asked cheerfully.

  I joined Odelia, Chase and the other cats to stare at the latest addition to the kitchen: a small panel that had been installed in the door.

  “Wow, Dad,” said Odelia. “You’re a fast worker.”

  “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, honey.”

  “Come on, Dooley. You be the first to try,” said Odelia.

  “What is it?” asked Dooley, eyeing the panel with suspicion.

  “It’s a pet door, you dummy,” said Diego. “Here. Let me show you chumps.” He took a running leap, and headed straight for the door! And to my great surprise, he didn’t smash into it, but ran straight through! The panel gave way, flapped out and then in again, and Diego was gone, before returning the same way he left.

  “Oh, now I see what you mean,” said Dooley, and quickly followed suit. “Hey, I like this!” he exclaimed when he returned. And to demonstrate that he did, he proceeded to run three more times through the newly installed gizmo.

  “Looks like a great fit, Dad,” said Odelia.

  “Yeah, the little fellows seem to like it,” said Chase.

  Harriet, quickly followed by Brutus, both passed through the door, and then it was my turn. With a happy smile, for I understood this meant I could come and go as I pleased and Odelia would save a ton on her heating bill, I headed for the pet door, stuck my head in and then… got stuck. For some reason my head went through fine, but my midsection didn’t.