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So it was with a spring in her step that she breezed into the Hampton Cove police precinct and strode up to the reception desk. If it was true what Laia said and the police had given them the runaround, she wanted to know why that was.

Behind her, Max and Dooley had hardly been able to keep up, but they still tried, since it was obvious that they, too, were chomping at the bit to dig their teeth into a nice fat case again.

“Hey, honey,” Dolores rasped. The crusty receptionist wasn’t actually smoking a cigarette at that exact moment, but she had all the hallmarks of a woman who had just smoked one, smoker’s voice and all. “What brings you here?”

“I just had a young couple in my office who claim they’ve filed a complaint and were given the runaround by you,” said Odelia, not beating about the bush.

“Is that a fact?” said Dolores, not impressed. “Who’s the couple?”

“Jay Green and Laia Twine. They’ve been getting parcels sent to them that they didn’t order, and Jay’s name is out there advertising him as a gigolo, when he’s anything but.” She gave Dolores a quizzical look. “Any of that ring a bell?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I think it does,” she said, nodding. “Handsome young guy? The artistic type?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

“Honey, they’re yanking your chain. The guy is obviously a gigolo, only he’s afraid to tell his girl, and so he made up this cockamamie story about a stalker being after him or whatever.”

“So what about these shipments that keep arriving? All of it stuff they never ordered but are expected to pay for?”

“Nonsense. Did you take a good look at the guy? I’m sure he’s very successful at what he does, and so the women who pay for his services send him tons of gifts. Nothing wrong with that.”

“What’s wrong is that these companies are expecting him to pay.”

But Dolores didn’t look convinced. “Oh, come on. That’s the story he’s been telling his girl. Of course he can’t admit he’s been getting gifts from his clients, so he made up this cock and bull story about some stalker.” She shrugged her bony shoulders, almost pulling them up to her ears. “Let her figure it out for herself is what I say. If she wants to be hoodwinked by her boyfriend, that’s her business.”

“He also mentioned something about a paper bag of doo-doo on his doorstep.”

Dolores laughed a raspy laugh.“One of his clients must be really unhappy with him, huh! Guess he didn’t give her what she wanted. Happens all the time.” And then she laughed some more, the story obviously having tickled her funny bone. When she saw that Odelia wasn’t joining in the merriment, she finally pulled herself together and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Look, if you want my advice, I’d tell the kid to come clean. The sooner he does, the better. And if this girl really loves him, she’ll forgive him. And if not? Well, he’s only got himself to blame, right?”

Just then, the phone belted out a musical tone, and she held up a finger as she picked up. Looked like the conversation was over.

Odelia turned away and glanced in the direction of the swinging door that led to the heart of the police precinct. Should she bother her uncle with this? Or Chase? But then she decided not to. If what Dolores said was the official police line, they weren’t going to be much help. And besides, this was her case. Her story, and she had to decide if Jay Green was a gigolo and a liar, or if he was for real, and he did indeed have a stalker issue.

So instead of barging into her uncle’s office, she headed back out, two cats hot on her tail.

“What did she say?” asked Dooley. “Why didn’t she take Laia’s story seriously?”

“Dolores thinks that Jay really is a gigolo,” she said as she stood conferring with herself on the sidewalk, figuring out her next course of action.

Dooley promptly turned to Max.“What’s a gigolo, Max?”

“Um…” was Max’s eloquent response. “Well…” He gave Odelia a strained look.

She crouched down and tickled Dooley under the chin.“A gigolo is a man who keeps lonely women company,” she explained. “Women who have no husband but still want to enjoy the company of a man, and so they pay him for the privilege.”

“Oh, so he’s like a nurse?”

She grimaced.“Yeah, something like that.”

Max mouthed,‘Thank you,’ and she gave him a wink.

CHAPTER 6

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Bud Zuk, Laia’s ex-boyfriend, turned out to be the tennis pro at our local tennis club. He was certainly dressed like a tennis pro, in white tennis shorts and shirt, swinging his tennis racket like he meant business. He also had one of those funny wristbands on his left wrist, but I saw that his right wrist was bandaged up.

“Had an accident?” Odelia asked the moment we sat down with the guy in the club canteen.

He held up the damaged appendage and studied it for a moment, as if contemplating an alien object. Finally he said,“Just a light sprain. The doc says it should be fine in no time. And I intend to hold him to that promise!” He laughed, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth.