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“Think about it,” he said, holding up an admonishing hand. “Think hard. I mean, there might be other families that want to adopt a cat. In fact there may be three families out there, extremely keen to adopt a cute little kitty and you hogging all three of them would put those families in a state of deep, profound sadness. Don’t be a hogger, babe.”

He had a point, of course. She couldn’t very well hog all the cats in Hampton Cove. That simply wouldn’t be fair.

And she would have discussed the ins and outs of cat adoption in more detail if Chase’s phone hadn’t developed suicidal tendencies and leaped from the nightstand when it started buzzing frantically. He picked it up and grunted, “It’s your uncle,” then answered by growling, “Yeah, Alec.” He listened for a moment, then raised his eyes to Odelia, and nodded. “I’ll bethere in five.” When he disconnected, he gave her a quizzical look. “Mh.”

“What is it?” She knew that look. Something had happened. Something bad.

“It’s Jeb Pott,” he said, scratching his ear.

“The actor? What about him?”

“He’s just been arrested.”

“Arrested? What did he do this time? Joyriding? Drunk and disorderly?” The famous actor was, in spite of his age, still a bad boy personified, and had been wreaking havoc across town for the past couple of weeks now. If he wasn’t speeding through downtown Hampton Cove, spooking senior citizens, he could be found passed out in the local park, having succumbed to an abundance of vodka or some other intoxicant, liquid or powdered.

But Chase was slowly shaking his head.“This time he’s really done it.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Chase. What did he do?”

Jeb Pott was one of her favorite actors—possiblythe favorite actor of every woman her age—and to watch him self-destruct had hurt and annoyed Odelia a great deal.

“He’s murdered his ex-wife. Your uncle just found her body in his lodge, the knife in his bed, her blood on his hands.”

Chapter 4

I’d joined Odelia as she drove out to the house where Jeb Pott lived, and so had Dooley, my best friend and part-time housemate. Chase had taken his own pickup and was leading the way, with Odelia following close behind.

“So who is this Jeb Pott?” asked Dooley now.

“He’s a world-famous actor,” said Odelia.

She looked unhappy at this turn of events, and I didn’t wonder. She loves Jeb Pott and has seen every picture the man has ever made, from his humble arthouse movie beginnings to his blockbuster turn as swashbuckler in the remake ofCaptain Blood. The man isn’t merely a star. He’s a megastar. Or at least was, until his recent disastrous divorce.

“We’ve seen him, remember, Dooley?” I said. “He played Captain Blood inCaptain Blood. They call him the new Errol Flynn.”

“Oh, right,” said Dooley, though it was obvious he had no idea what I was talking about. The sight of three kittens cavorting about our living room had startled Dooley as much as it had me, and this had shortened his attention span which now made him tune out to some extent. Dooley’s mind is such that it can only hold two ideas at the same time, and right now it was overrun with images of kittens dangling from the curtains, swinging from the ceiling lights, cavorting on the kitchen counter, and peeing in Odelia’s flowerpots.

“I like him,” said Odelia. “I like him a lot. I think he’s one of the most talented actors of his generation, or any generation, for that matter. He’s always been one of my favorites, until…” She dug her teeth into her lower lip.

“Until the divorce,” I said in a low voice.

She nodded and gripped her steering wheel a little tighter.“Until the divorce,” she said quietly.

Jeb Pott’s career could be divided into two distinct periods: the slow rise to the absolute pinnacle of fame and glory, and his post-divorce period, when his star power had begun to wane and he’d gone from hero to zero in the space of a few short weeks.

His ex-wife Camilla Kirby had filed for divorce on the grounds of domestic violence, cruelty and substance abuse and had shown the proof by parading in front of the world media with a big purple bruise on her cheek, the result of an encounter with Jeb’s fist.

Jeb had claimed foul play and said she’d made up both bruise and abuse, but by then it was too late, the actor’s reputation irreparably damaged, and turned into a pariah by the same Tinseltown that had hailed him as its most popular star only a few short weeks before.

“Oh, how fickle fame is,” I said softly.

“So what happened to this Jeb Pott?” asked Dooley.

“He allegedly beat his wife, and now he allegedly murdered her,” I said.

“Nothing alleged about it,” said Odelia. “Camille Kirby is dead and Jeb was practically covered in her blood, the murder weapon lying next to him on the bed, his prints all over it.” She was shaking her head. “I find this very hard to believe. How could he…” Her voice caught and she haltingly said, in a strange, wobbly tone, “I took his side, you know. In the divorce circus? I thought she was lying. And now this.”