Purrfect Crime (The Mysteries of Max Book 5) Page 11

  “I hate Donna!” the man suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs. “I hate Donna and I’m glad she’s dead!”

  Chapter 18

  It was the first time we got to sit in on a police interrogation and I was adamant to make the most of it. I was hungry, though, so first I needed a snack. So when no one was watching, I snuck into Chief Alec’s office and quickly found what I was looking for. While I was in there before I’d noticed the chief kept a half-eaten meatball sub in his bottom drawer. The scent had been driving me crazy.

  “Max! What are you doing?!” Dooley shouted from the door.

  “I’m foraging! What does it look like I’m doing?!”

  “But you can’t! You promised Odelia you would stick to your diet!”

  “I lied, okay? I can’t stand it anymore, Dooley. I’m not like you. I can’t fill my stomach with water and pretend I’m not hungry! I’m starving!”

  So I skewered the meatball from between the two buns with one nail and popped it into my mouth. Yummy. Then I went looking for a second meatball, which I hoped was in there somewhere.

  “Max! Someone’s coming!” Dooley suddenly yelled. “Too late!”

  “What are you guys doing in here?” asked Odelia, entering the office at a trot. She picked up a file from the desk and glanced down at me. She took one look at the meatball sub—now sans meatball—and her brows knitted into a frown. “Max! You’re cheating on your diet again!”

  “No, I’m not,” I said.

  She planted a hand on her hip. “I can see the sauce dripping from your lips, Max.”

  Oops. I quickly swiped my tongue along my lips. “There. All gone,” I said, then burped.

  She shook her head. “Oh, Max. What am I going to do with you?”

  “I told him he shouldn’t!” Dooley said.

  “Tattletale!” I hissed.

  “Come on, you two,” said Odelia. “We don’t have time for this. We’re about to interrogate Dexter Valdès.”

  She ushered us out of the office and closed the door. I could have told her this wasn’t necessary, as I’d already determined there wasn’t a second meatball inside that sub. Uncle Alec must have dug it out and eaten it himself.

  We followed Odelia down the corridor and then into a small room, where a mirror offered a view of a second, even smaller room. We hopped up on the table at Chief Alec’s instigation and made ourselves comfortable while Odelia joined Chase in the next room and sat down across from Dexter Valdès. In my personal opinion the man only barely resembled Ricky Martin. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks stubbled and his hair unkempt. He might have been younger, but right now he looked like a much seedier and disheveled version of the fabled Latino heartthrob and hit sensation.

  “So, Dexter,” said Chase, opening the proceedings, “you hate Donna Bruce so much you’re happy she’s dead, huh?”

  The man seemed a lot less vocal about his hatred of Donna Bruce than before. He gave Chase a wary look. “Look, dude, when I said that I didn’t really mean it.”

  “Oh, backpedaling are we?”

  “You had a fight at Pier’s Pont just now,” said Odelia. “When the owner called the police you were trying to shove a billiard ball down the throat of another patron, telling him your wiener was the biggest wiener in wiener history. Is that correct?”

  Dexter nodded. “That sounds about right. In my defense, he made fun of my wiener.”

  “Could this be related to the article Donna wrote about your wiener?” asked Chase.

  “It’s got everything to do with that article,” Dexter confessed. “If she hadn’t written that article my life wouldn’t have turned into a vaudeville act. Now everyone is making fun of my wiener. I haven’t even had a girlfriend in months, all because of that damn article.”

  “So you did hate Donna Bruce, and you did want to kill her,” said Chase.

  The man threw up his arms. “How would you feel when someone shared the size of your wiener with the world, dude?”

  “I’d feel comfortable enough in my own skin not to let it bother me,” said Chase.

  “Bullshit. No man likes to have his wiener become the butt of a joke. I suffered, all right? And that’s just what she wanted. My wiener isn’t tiny. At least not as tiny as she made it out to be. My wiener is just fine. In fact my wiener is nothing short of majestic and I can prove it.” He got up and started removing his pants, which was a little hard to do with the handcuffs restricting his movements. Chase pushed him down in his seat again.

  “Sit down, buddy,” the burly cop said. “I’m not interested in the size of your junk. All I want is for you to tell me where you got those bees and how you got them into Donna’s house.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Bees? What are you talking about?”

  “You stole those bees and then you transported them to Donna’s house. How did you know how to handle them?”

  “But I don’t know anything about bees.” Then understanding seemed to dawn on him. “Oh, you think I killed Donna? With bees? Are you nuts?”

  “No, but I think you are if you’re going to claim you’re innocent. You practically confessed to murdering your ex-girlfriend. Now all we need to establish is how you did it.”

  “But I didn’t kill her!”

  “You just told us you did!”

  “No, I didn’t! I just said I’m happy she’s dead. I would never hurt anyone—least of all Donna. She might have written all that stuff about my wiener but I genuinely liked her. We had a great time together.” He squinched his eyes closed. “Look, dude. I say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean I mean any of it.”

  “Then tell me where you were at seven this morning, when Donna was murdered.”

  “At Pier’s Pont, of course, where you guys picked me up.”

  “You expect me to believe you hang around at bars at such an early hour?”

  “No, I expect you to believe I hang around at bars at such a late hour. I’d been there all night. Just ask Johnny, the bartender. He knows my face. I’m a regular.”

  “Johnny Dusky,” Chase muttered, checking his notes. “That would be the guy who called in the altercation.”

  “Yeah, I think he got annoyed when I started rearranging the furniture,” Dexter said with a grin.

  Dooley gave me a nudge. “Looks like the guy didn’t do it, Max.”

  “Looks like you’re right,” I agreed. “Another dead end, huh?”

  “We seem to be running into a lot of dead ends lately, Max. Do you think we’re losing our touch?”

  “It’s this diet. It’s making me feel weak. I can’t think straight when I’m hungry, and I’m hungry all the time.”

  “You just had a giant meatball!”

  “Just the one, though. I could eat ten giant meatballs and still feel hungry.”

  Just then, two more cats joined us. They were Harriet and Brutus.

  “You guys!” Harriet yelled, gracefully jumping up on the desk. “I know who killed Donna!”

  “You do?” I asked.

  “She does,” said Brutus proudly, also joining us. “We figured it out together, didn’t we, sugar pie?”

  “We sure did, scrunchy munch.”

  “So?” asked Dooley. “Who did it?”

  “Maureen Cranberry!”

  Dooley and I exchanged a puzzled glance. “Who’s Maureen Cranberry?” I asked.

  “She’s a woman who filed charges against Donna Bruce for burning her… you know.”

  Curiouser and curiouser. “No, I don’t. Burning her what?”

  She leaned in, and faux-whispered, “Her business!”

  “What business?” asked Dooley.

  Harriet heaved an exaggerated sigh. “She bought one of those vajayjay steamers and accidentally burned her vajayjay.”

  “What’s a vajayjay?” asked Dooley.

  “A woman’s business!”

  Dooley turned to me. “I don’t get it, Max.”

  I had to admit I didn’t get it either. Harriet was now
definitely speaking in riddles. Just then, Odelia and Chase walked out of the interview room, while Dexter was led out by a uniformed officer, probably to cool off in one of the cells. “Hey, Harriet—Brutus,” said Odelia. “What’s up?”

  “We found the killer!” Harriet cried.

  “Yeah, it’s a woman who burned her business on a vajayjay steamer,” I said. “Whatever that is.”

  “Maureen Cranberry,” Harriet clarified. “I found her name after a long and very thorough Internet search. She ordered one of Donna’s vajayjay steamers and ended up burning her business so she sued Donna for damages and extreme emotional suffering and trauma. She lost, though, but I’m sure she’s still very sore.”

  Odelia smiled. “I’ll bet she is.”

  Chase frowned. “Who are you talking to?”

  “She’s talking to herself again,” Uncle Alec said. “I told you. It’s a weird habit she just doesn’t seem to be able to shake. Isn’t that right, honey?”

  “We need to talk to Maureen Cranberry,” Odelia said in response. “She might be our killer.”

  Chase’s frown deepened. “Where did that come from, all of a sudden?”

  Odelia gave him her best smile. “Just a hunch. Women’s intuition. Are you coming?”

  “Hey, what about me?” asked Harriet. “I found Maureen!”

  “Well, come on, then,” Odelia said. “What are you waiting for?”

  Four cats tripped after Odelia, drawing puzzled glances from Chase. Then Dooley asked, “What’s a vajayjay?”

  Chapter 19

  “So what’s with this habit of talking to yourself?” Chase asked. “A habit, I can’t help but notice, which seems to grow worse when your cats are around. A lot worse, actually.”

  Chase was driving his police pickup, Odelia riding shotgun, her assortment of cats in the bed of the truck. Odelia had wanted to put the cats in the backseat, a place usually reserved for arrestees, but Chase had vocally demurred. Claimed he’d just cleaned up the vomit from the last drunk and disorderly he’d arrested and didn’t want to have to scrape a bunch of hairballs from the backseat now that he got it all nice and puke-free again.

  Odelia shrugged. “It’s just a bad habit, Chase. Get over it.”

  “No, but why does it grow worse when your cats are around? It’s almost as if you’re talking to them, and they’re talking back to you.”

  She let rip a careless laugh. “Talking to my cats—you should hear yourself, Detective Kingsley. How crazy that sounds.”

  He smiled. “I know it sounds crazy, but please bear with me. Isn’t it possible that those amazing powers of intuition you always claim to possess—”

  “I don’t claim to possess amazing powers of intuition. I have amazing powers of intuition.”

  “Okay, I’ll grant you that. But isn’t it possible that those amazing powers of intuition are somehow connected to that ragtag collection of felines you surround yourself with?” He held up his hand. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “Have you now? That must have been quite the effort.”

  He gave her a comical look. “It’s been scientifically proven that humans and their pets share a sacred bond of some kind. That they somehow influence each other. All I’m saying is that it’s possible that having those cats around has a positive influence on your ability to sniff out clues and find out stuff.”

  “It’s possible,” she agreed. Little did he know how possible it really was!

  He gave her a keen look. “You know what? I think I just discovered your little secret.”

  She swallowed away an uncomfortable lump. “You have?”

  “Sure. Those cats bring out the best in you.”

  She smiled with relief. “Of course they do.”

  “So when are you going to tell me how the name Maureen Cranberry came up?”

  She thought quick. “I did a long and very thorough Internet search, and discovered that Maureen bought one of those vagina steamers Donna sells on her site. Maureen ended up burning her business and suing Donna for damages and extreme emotional suffering and trauma.”

  “Don’t tell me. She lost?”

  “She did.”

  “Which makes her a great suspect in my book,” Chase grunted. “Great work, Odelia. You’re quickly becoming my favorite ace sleuth.”

  She gave him a chipper smile. “Gee, thanks, Detective. That means a lot coming from you.” Little did he know that the real ace sleuth was riding in the bed of the truck, along with three other ace sleuths.

  They’d arrived at Donna’s house and Odelia frowned. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

  “Yeah. Turns out Maureen Cranberry is one of Donna’s neighbors. And get this. She’s a member of the same neighborhood association Alpin Carré belongs to.” He gestured to the small monitor in the center of the console, where Mrs. Cranberry’s file had been pulled up.

  Odelia squinted at the screen. “This is all gibberish, Chase. What am I looking at?”

  “She was at the demonstration this morning. The one where Alpin was arrested? Officers took down the names of everyone present and Mrs. Cranberry was one of them.”

  Chase pulled the car over onto the shoulder and got out. Across the street, a more modest dwelling than Donna Bruce’s majestic mansion stood, a lone mailbox announcing here lived Maureen Cranberry.

  She also got out and watched as Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus crossed the road, making their way past the gate and onto private property. Her very own feline army, she thought with a smile.

  Chase rang the bell and soon the gate slid open and they walked up the short paved driveway to the front of the house. Mrs. Cranberry opened the door and watched them arrive, her arms folded across her chest, an expression of suspicion on her face. And as they drew nearer, Odelia saw to her surprise that the woman was the spitting image of Donna Bruce. The same athletic body type, the same facial structure, and the exact same long blond hair. She could have been Donna’s sister.

  Chase displayed his badge. “Detective Chase Kingsley. Hampton Cove PD. And this is Odelia Poole. Civilian consultant. We’re investigating the murder of one of your neighbors. Donna Bruce.”

  The woman’s scowl deepened. “What’s Donna’s death got to do with me, Detective?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out, Mrs. Cranberry. May we come in?”

  Reluctantly, the woman stepped aside to allow them inside. To Odelia’s surprise, a large picture portrait of Donna Bruce dominated the foyer, and as they passed into the parlor, the covers of every Donna Magazine that had ever been published had been framed and put up on the walls.

  “You’re quite the fan, aren’t you, Mrs. Cranberry?” asked Chase, studying the setup.

  “I am,” said the woman stiffly. She led the way into the living room, where a life-sized bust of Donna Bruce took center stage. Oddly enough, even the furniture reminded Odelia of Donna, as the exact same furniture had graced her own house.

  Maureen Cranberry wasn’t merely Donna’s double, she’d also copied Donna’s interior design, down to the intricate wood floor medallions, depicting the yin and yang symbols, the heavy velvet curtains, and the pink marble walls. Eerie.

  Chase, too, seemed taken aback by this extreme case of hero worship, as he was lost for words for a moment. Odelia decided to step into the breach. “Is it true that you sued Donna Bruce a couple of years ago, Mrs. Cranberry?”

  Maureen, who’d taken a seat on one of three high back chairs placed in the salon area of the living room, gestured at the other chairs and nodded. “Yes, that’s quite true.”

  Odelia and Chase sat down, the cop taking out his notebook and Odelia asking, “And is it also true that you lost the case?”

  “Yes, unfortunately I did.”

  “But the incident doesn’t seem to have turned you off Donna?”

  For the first time, the woman displayed a thin-lipped smile. “No, it didn’t.”

  “So why is that?” asked Ch
ase.

  Maureen heaved a little sigh. “Once you’re a fan, it’s hard to shake that faith. Though I must confess I came close when I had my little… incident.”

  “With the steamer.”

  “With the steamer,” the woman confirmed.

  “But you were seen protesting outside Donna’s house this morning,” said Chase. “That’s not the kind of behavior one would expect from a die-hard fan such as yourself.”

  “I—I must confess I only joined the protest to take a closer look at Donna’s house and—and perhaps even catch a glimpse of Donna herself.”

  Something occurred to Odelia. “How long have you lived here, Mrs. Cranberry?”

  The woman smiled. “I moved in about six months after Donna moved in. Yes, I’m a stalker, Miss Poole, though not the dangerous kind, I can assure you.”

  “And yet you sued Donna when the contraption you bought from her website malfunctioned, you joined the neighborhood protest against the wall she was building, and…” Chase leaned forward in his chair, tapping his notebook smartly. “… perhaps exacted your own kind of revenge when the lawsuit you filed against your idol was thrown out?”

  Maureen shook her head decidedly. “I would never do that. I would never harm Donna. Ask anyone. I was her biggest fan and it pained me to have to file charges against her. I tried to get donna.vip to reimburse me and compensate me for the damage their steamer caused but they simply refused. Filing that suit was the only recourse I had to get my money back.”

  “And you insist losing the lawsuit didn’t inspire you to take revenge in some other way?”

  “It did not. Like I said, I would never do anything to hurt Donna. She was my role model, and not just mine. A lot of women looked up to her for advice and leadership. She was an amazing person. One of a kind.” She sighed deeply. “She will be sorely missed.”

  Chase sat back. “Where were you this morning at seven, Mrs. Cranberry?”

  “I was over at Alpin’s house. Alpin Carré? He’s the leader of the neighborhood association and was organizing the protest. We were preparing for the demonstration outside Donna’s house. We met at six as we still had a lot of ground to cover. Banners to prepare and signs to put together. Some of the other women brought cake and Alpin provided coffee and tea. We made a fun time of it. We finally set out to march on Donna’s house at nine.” She shook her head. “If only I’d known Donna had passed away, I would never have come.”