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Dolores had been fielding calls all afternoon, mainly from cat owners who were calling in to announce that their precious little fur babies had gone missing. She’d been carefully writing everything down, and had been sending word to the officers to take these cases in hand. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm to find these cats, with most officers clearly feeling cats could take care of themselves. But when the parents of Nicky August calledagain, asking why the chief had never shown up, she got up from her perch and marched over to Chase’s office and entered without knocking.

“Chase, the parents of that missing munchkin just called again. The chief never showed up to take their statement, and now they’re wondering if they should talk to the media, cause they’re pretty much on the verge of giving up on the police altogether.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Chase, looking distraught. “I’ve been trying the chief’s cell all morning, and he doesn’t pick up.”

“That’s not like him,” said Dolores, who’d known the chief from when he was a beat cop, and had seen his slow rise through the ranks to the position he held now.

“No, that’s absolutely not like him at all. Where was he going when he left here?”

“I told you already, to talk to the parents of the missing kid—Nicky August.”

“Better call them back and tell them I’m on my way,” said Chase as he got up from behind his desk.

“You’re going to handle this yourself? I can always send one of the uniforms.”

“No, they deserve an official apology, and maybe I can figure out what happened to the chief.”

“Oh, and a bunch of people are calling about their missing cats,” said Dolores.

“Missing cats?”

“At least a dozen reports so far. I’ve handed them to your colleagues, but they’re less than excited at the prospect of looking for a bunch of missing pets.” They both looked in at the office, which was open-plan, with desks dotting the cluttered space. None of the other officers appeared particularly busy, and Chase heaved a disappointed sigh.

“When the cat’s away…” said Dolores with a shrug.

Chase clapped his hands.“Listen up!” he said. Instantly, they all sat up with a jerk. “Let’s get on this missing cats business, all right? They may only be pets, but that doesn’t mean they’re not important. So divide up the work and let’s get cracking, people!”

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At the office, Odelia was adding some spice to the article Dan had written about the upcoming Fall Ball, always a big thing in Hampton Cove, and an opportunity for the mayor to mingle with his constituents. The next election was still three years away, but Mayor Turner never missed an opportunity to sell himself to potential voters. Maybe the reason he’d been in office for as long as Odelia could remember. Suddenly Dan stuck his head in the door.

“Have you heard about the case of the missing Duffer?” he asked with a slight grin on his bearded face.

“The missing what?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.

“The missing Duffer. The famous salami?”

She leaned back.“Funny. My mom sent me a text this morning about the Duffer. How does a sausage go missing, exactly?” This sounded like a story right up Dan’s alley. He liked to fill theGazette with colorful fluff pieces like that. And readers loved it.

“Take the story and find out. The Mayor made a big scene at Fry Me For An Oyster when they announced they were all out of Duffers. Threatened to fire the entire staff.”

“He can’t fire the staff. He doesn’t own the restaurant. Does he?”

“Who knows with these local moguls.”

“Is this really a story we need to pursue, Dan?” she asked, gesturing to the pile of files clogging up her inbox.

Dan arched an eyebrow.“The Mayor? Blowing his top? Over a sausage?”

She grinned.“I see your point. But can you finish this article about the Fall Ball?”

“Will do, kid,” said Dan, rapping his knuckles on the doorjamb and returning to his own sanctum.

She picked up her bag, which held a dictaphone, laptop, and enough notebooks to write up a dozen stories about a dozen mayors blowing their tops over a lack of salamis.

She walked the short distance to the restaurant where the sordid scene had played out, and ten minutes later she was talking to one of the servers who’d actually witnessed the incident, and gave a vivid blow-by-blow account of the Mayor’s darkest moment.

Next came Wallace Banio, the ma?tre d’, who was more than happy to spill the beans, provided his name wasn’t mentioned in the article. “I don’t know what came over him,” he said. “He went completely berserk. Said that if I didn’t feed him his daily slice of Duffer, he’d ruin me, ruin my family, ruin the restaurant, and see to it that I never worked in this town again. Do you think he can do that, Miss Poole?”

“I doubt it,” said Odelia. “You have to remember that politicians live at the mercy of the voting public. They’re only one vote away from being replaced by the next guy.”