Purrfect Bachelor, page 14
“No, sir,” said Scarlett. “You’re perfectly safe in here. Kristina can’t get to you.”
“I need security at the house, too,” Omar mumbled, fingering his lips. “I’ll have to up security at the house, at the office… for as long as Kristina is still out there. That cop said he was going to provide police protection but so far I haven’t seen it.”
“And what about the son?” asked Scarlett the logical question.
“What about the son?” asked Omar, his head jerking up and his feverish gaze returning to Scarlett.
“Well, if the mother is involved, and so is the father, don’t you think the son might be involved, too?”
Omar’s jaw had dropped as he considered this possibility. “Oh, God. He’s going to take over his parents’ mission, isn’t he? You see it in movies all the time. James Bond kills the father and then twenty years later the son suddenly pops up and tries to kill James!”
“Maybe you should tell the police,” Scarlett suggested helpfully.
“Oh, the police are absolutely useless!” Omar cried viciously. “They simply twiddle their thumbs and do nothing while all four of my friends are being butchered by these maniacs!” He directed a wrathful look at the ceiling, as if it had personally insulted him, and muttered, “I’ll just have to take care of this myself, won’t I? I’ll have to handle this personally, if the police aren’t going to.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do.”
“I wouldn’t do that, if you were you, sir,” said Scarlett, holding up her hand to draw her employer’s attention.
“Oh, who asked you!” the man spat, then retreated into his office and slammed the door.
“Uh-oh,” said Scarlett as she took out her phone. “We better warn… someone,” she said to no one in particular, then placed the phone to her ear. Moments later it connected. “Vesta? I think Omar is about to do something bad to the Careens. Yeah, he’s gone a little nuts.”
“Or completely nuts,” said Harriet.
“Can you blame him?” said Brutus. “His four best friends have been killed. And he believes the killer is going to come for him now. I don’t blame the guy for losing it.”
“Well, he better keep it together until Chase has solved the crime,” said Harriet.
“Chase!” Brutus cried. “You mean Max.”
“You think Max will be able to figure out who’s responsible for these murders?”
“Of course he will. Max is a smart cookie. If anyone can figure it out, it’s him.”
Harriet smiled at her mate. “He is very clever, isn’t he?”
“Of course he is. But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get cocky.”
“Your secret is safe with me, boogie bear.”
“Though I think we better tell him to get a move on, before Omar puts out a contract on Kristina and Rick Careen.”
“You don’t think…”
Brutus cocked a serious whisker. “I bet he’s in there going through the yellow pages right now, looking for killers for hire to take out Kristina and her son.”
“What a mess.”
Scarlett had finished her phone call, and hiked her purse higher up her shoulder. “Let’s go, you guys,” she said. “We’re meeting M. Or is it Q? I’ve never seen a James Bond movie, can you believe it?”
“Too bad she doesn’t understand a word we say,” said Harriet. “Because I have a feeling Scarlett and I would get along like gangbusters.”
They walked past the security man, and Scarlett told the guy to keep a close eye on Mr. Wissinski, and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. The man eyed her curiously. “It’s not my job to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, ma’am,” he said. “It’s my job to make sure nobody does anything stupid to him.” And having said what he had to say, he resumed his wide-legged stance and adopted a thousand-yard stare.
They all hurried to the food court where they found Gran, and within minutes Scarlett had delivered her report and so had Harriet and Brutus.
“That doesn’t sound good,” said Gran, and her face took on a serious note as she took out her own phone and called Odelia to deliver an urgent message that Omar might pose a clear and present danger to the Careens—or at least those Careens who hadn’t been arrested yet. As it was, it now looked as if Dominic was in the best position of all. At least Omar or the hitman he was about to employ presumably couldn’t get at him.
“What did she say?” asked Scarlett.
“She said she’ll handle it,” said Gran, looking grim-faced. She patted Harriet and Brutus on the head. “You did good,” she said, then absentmindedly patted Scarlett on the head, too, as if she was part of the feline contingent.
Scarlett eyed her friend strangely. “Are you all right, Vesta?”
“Ever since this assignment started I’ve drunk way too much hot chocolate,” said Gran. “Next time I’ll stick to chamomile tea instead.”
Chapter 34
Chase had sent Rick home, and as he and Odelia discussed the phone call from Gran, announcing that Omar was going a little nuts and was thinking about taking matters into his own hands, a police officer stuck her head in and said that Justina McMenamy was waiting and had asked to talk to Chase.
“Send her in,” said Chase, and frowned to his wife. “Did you ask her to drop by?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Odelia.
“Well, let’s hear what she has to say.”
Dunc’s fiancée looked a lot better than the last time we’d seen her. But then of course she’d just had a terrible shock then. She seemed to have recovered a little, though the fact that she was dressed in black from head to toe told us she was still in mourning.
“You wanted to see me?” asked Chase.
“Yes,” said Justina, taking a seat next to Odelia. “I got a call from Kristina Careen this morning.”
Chase arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Kristina called you?”
“Yeah, she said that she knew that Dunc was the person who killed her daughter that fateful night. She said he took his car in for repairs the morning after the accident, so now she’s got evidence that he was her daughter’s murderer. She said she’s going to bring charges against Dunc—belatedly, of course—and thought I should know.”
“Okay,” said Chase, sitting back and tapping a pencil against his desk.
“The thing is,” said Justina, “that it wasn’t Dunc who was driving that Mustang.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. I’m going to tell you what I just told Kristina. The boys used to swap cars all the time. And I know for a fact that it wasn’t Dunc who was behind the wheel of that car.”
“Is this what he told you?”
“It is.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” asked Chase. “You said you’d never heard of the Careen case before. That Dunc had never mentioned any of this to you! You lied to us!”
Justina looked away. “I-I wanted to protect Dunc’s legacy. Make sure that his name and his reputation aren’t sullied. But now that Kristina is threatening to sue…” She shrugged.
“So who was the person who drove your fiancé’s car that night?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. You see, he was very loyal to his friends, even though lately they hadn’t been seeing as much of each other as they used to. In fact he only told me about this when I asked him. I read an article in the paper. Commemorating ten years of Poppy Careen’s death. So I asked him about it, since the article mentioned him and the others. He swore up and down that it wasn’t him. Said someone else was driving his car that night, and he had nothing to do with what happened.”
“But he wouldn’t say who did.”
Justina shook her head. “They were all pretty reckless, you know. Used to be into all kinds of stuff. Poker games where they played for high stakes. One of them once lost a house, and another one a boat. He told me some crazy stories. But Dunc wasn’t like the others. He couldn’t afford to lose a house or a boat. He wasn’t rich like them. So he was always different. More careful. And ever since we met, he started distancing himself from his friends even more. Said he regretted some of the stuff they got up to back in the day.”
“So what happened to Dunc’s Mustang?” asked Chase.
“I don’t know. All I know is that he didn’t have it anymore.”
“He didn’t say where it ended up?”
“No. All I know is that he got rid of it at some point.”
“Dumped it in a lake, maybe? Or the junkyard?”
“He never said. And I’m afraid I never asked, either.”
Chase studied her for a moment. “Have you told us the truth this time, Justina?”
She looked up. “Yes, I have, detective—I swear.”
After Justina had left, Chase looked thoughtful. “So if Dunc didn’t drive his Mustang that night, who did?”
“There’s only one person left who can tell us,” said Odelia.
Chase nodded. “Omar Wissinski.” He grabbed his jacket. “I think we better have a chat with our Mr. Wissinski.”
“What about Dominic?”
“Oh, he can think about his sins some more.”
Moments later, we were in Chase’s car, driving back to the Keystone Mall—though very soon now it would probably change its name to Timpermall Hampton Keys. At least if the standoff between the Hampton Keys mayor and the Timperleys was resolved.
The security guard planted in front of Omar Wissinski’s office stepped aside when Chase showed him his credentials and even opened the door for us.
“If this guy keeps standing there,” I said, “business will become very slow for Omar.”
“Why?” asked Dooley. “Don’t you think people will like knowing they’re safe inside?”
“I doubt it, Dooley. This isn’t a jewelry store or a bank. It’s just an insurance agency. People will start to think that Omar is up to something funny with their money.”
“Like investing it in a bitcoin scheme, you mean?”
I smiled. “Something like that.”
Omar looked a little harried when we stepped into his office. Or I should probably say even more harried than the last time we saw him, on the roof of his friend Sergio’s house.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, shifting nervously in his seat. “I called the station but they said you were busy. And yet here you are. Quick work, detective. And I appreciate it! So I want you to arrest Kristina Careen and her son Rick. I know that Kristina has you all fooled into thinking she’s arachnophobic.”
“Agoraphobic,” Odelia corrected him.
“Whatever. But that’s just a ruse, see? She’s been coming and going without anyone noticing, and murdering my friends! As I see it, she killed Joel and Dunc, while Dominic killed Jona and Sergio and tried to kill me. And their son Rick is assisting them both!”
“And you have proof of this, sir?” asked Chase.
Omar’s face fell. “Proof! I don’t need proof. Isn’t it obvious? The woman is dangerous! There’s a reason we all took out a restraining order against her and her family. But that hasn’t stopped her. Oh, no. On the contrary. She’s on a rampage. A murder spree!”
“We’re actually not here about that,” said Chase, holding up his hand to stem the flow of words.
“You’re not?” asked Omar, his face expressing his surprise.
“We talked to Dunc’s fiancée, and she told us that Dunc didn’t drive his Mustang that night—the car that was implicated in the hit and run that killed Poppy Careen.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. Dunc said you swapped cars, and someone else was driving his Mustang.”
Omar was silent for a moment, as he stared at Chase and Odelia, who were clearly expecting an answer. The insurance man licked his lips nervously.
“So who was it, Omar?” asked Chase. “Who was driving Dunc’s car?”
Omar finally relented. “Okay, so we were street racing that night.”
“In the Careens’ neighborhood?”
“Yes. The reason we didn’t tell you is obvious, I think. But now that he’s gone…”
“Who was it, Omar? Who was behind the wheel?”
Omar heaved a deep sigh and seemed to deflate like a balloon. “Sergio,” he said quietly. “We all swore an oath never to tell. A pact, you know. All for one and one for all and all that. We knew it could have been either one of us who’d gotten into that fatal accident, so we decided to close ranks. If anyone had found out that Sergio was behind the wheel of that car, his life would have been over. He never would have had the career he had.”
“Who came up with the idea to take the car to Jefferson Gusta?”
“Joel. His dad was a regular customer of the Gusta Garage, and he knew that Gusta wouldn’t mind accepting some money under the table in exchange for a rush job. He also knew that Gusta wouldn’t talk. Joel’s dad had been in a minor accident and when he took his car to Gusta things had been handled discreetly, so Joel knew he could trust Gusta.”
“So he fixed up Dunc’s Mustang?”
“Yeah, and Joel paid him a large sum of money to make sure he kept his mouth shut.”
“What happened to the Mustang?”
“Dunc drove around with it for another couple of years, until it broke down and Gusta agreed to take it to a wrecker. It probably got demolished, the parts sold as scrap.”
“So the car is gone, huh?”
“Yeah, unless Gusta kept it, but I don’t think he did. He was as good as his word.”
Chase nodded. “You should have told us sooner, Omar,” he said. “If you had, your friends might still be alive now.”
“I know,” said Omar, a haunted look in his eyes. “But I couldn’t.”
“Yeah, I know. The bachelor pact.” He got up. “You’re not going to do anything stupid about Kristina and her son, are you, Omar?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Omar.
“I think you do.” He fixed the man with a serious look, and finally Omar looked away. “Cause if anything happens to that woman or to Rick, I’ll know where to find you.”
And with these words, we left the office.
Chapter 35
Odelia had dropped us in town, and since I was feeling a little peckish, I decided it was high time we paid a visit to Kingman again. Also, I was completely stuck, with the case not moving the way I wanted it to move. And for some reason a visit to Kingman often manages to get me unstuck. I don’t know what it is about that voluminous cat, but he seems to spread these nuggets of wisdom, even if he’s fully unaware of it, that never fail to point me in the right direction.
“Hiya, fellas,” he said as we walked up. He gestured to a full bowl of a sort of greenish-brownish kibble. “Taste it at your own peril,” he said. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What is it?” asked Dooley as he gave it a sniff.
“I’m not sure. Some Russian fella dropped it off this morning, and said the stuff is very popular with their Russian cats. I think he mentioned peas and spinach?”
I wrinkled up my nose. “I don’t like peas or spinach,” I said.
“Who does?”
“Have you tried it?”
“One nugget. I upchucked it the moment it went down.” He pointed to a sad-looking lonely piece of kibble on the sidewalk, that indeed looked as if it had been in someone’s stomach recently.
So I kindly declined to sample this Russian kibble, and lay down next to my friend.
“How is the case going?”
“Don’t ask,” I said. “We’ve got one guy in jail right now, who refuses to tell us where he’s been, and it looks as if he’s the one behind the whole thing.”
He looked over to me. “But you’re not fully convinced, are you?”
“Not really. I mean, why wait thirteen years to start murdering the men you think are responsible for your daughter’s death?”
“Didn’t you mention that the wife doesn’t have much longer to live?”
“Yeah, but even so.”
We were both silent, and suddenly the sounds of munching reached my ears. When I looked over, I saw that Dooley was digging into the Russian kibble, and already half of the bowl’s contents had been transferred to his stomach. He looked up when he felt us looking at him. “It’s pretty good,” he announced. “Tastes a little funny, but not so bad.”
“Be careful, Dooley,” I said. “That you don’t get sick.”
“That’s all right. I think I’d know if it was bad for me.”
I wasn’t as convinced as he was. “So how about you?” I asked. Kingman looked a little subdued, I thought. “Still recovering from that storm last night?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” he said. “So I got soaked to the skin. And so I had to be saved from that tree. And so the fireman who rescued me said he’d never seen a fatter cat in his life.”
“He said that?”
Kingman nodded. “Maybe that spinach would do me good,” he said, eyeing the green kibble dubiously. “I am a big cat, Max. Maybe I’m too big?”
“Nonsense,” I said. “As long as Vena gives you a clean bill of health, you’re good.”
“Yeah, but if even a fireman figures I’m too big…”
“Look, you’re just like me,” I said, not taking any of this nonsense. “You’ve got big bones, that’s all.”
“I guess,” he said, then placed his head on his paws and smiled. “Wilbur finally managed to get hold of his brother last night.”
“About selling him part of the store?”
“Yeah. Turns out Rudolph is in Germany, and having a ball. I didn’t know Germans were so crazy about thrash metal. Though Rudolph said it’s actually death metal.”
“Death metal!” Dooley cried. “That sounds horrible!”
“It doesn’t actually involve dead people,” Kingman assured us. “It’s just a name.”
“So he’s drawing big crowds, is he?”
“Not really. As far as we can tell from the band’s Facebook page they’re still mostly playing small venues, and when Wilbur suggested he buy part of Rudolph’s share, he sounded happy, so I think he needs the money.”
