57aacbcd9598439b495cce0c68035a7c

Odelia nodded. She hoped he was right. With the kind of high-tech stuff that was available these days, maybe they could unearth things that were invisible at first glance.

There was a knock at the door, and Uncle Alec walked in, followed by a stern-faced man in a three-piece suit that looked like it might have cost a thousand bucks. A lawyer, she knew before Alec introduced the guy.

“This is Paul Seymour,” said the Chief. “Counselor Seymour works for Charlie Dieber. Detective Chase Kingsley, who’s in charge of the case. And Odelia Poole, civilian consultant.”

“Detective. Miss Poole,” said the lawyer. “I only have one question for you at this time. Have you identified the shooter?”

“Not yet,” said Chase. “But we’re working on it.”

The man’s lips tightened. This was not the message he wanted to hear. “Let me be clear. If you don’t find us a shooter we’re going to want to explore some other options.”

“What other options?” asked Odelia.

He jerked his head in her direction.“I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“Odelia Poole. I’m a civilian consultant.” She decided to keep the fact that she was also a reporter for the local newspaper under wraps for now.

He turned away from her, clearly not impressed.“Charlie has fans in high places. He’s proud to count the President among them. One phone call is all it takes to get the Feds out here and poring over this attempt on Charlie’s life.”

“The President?” asked Odelia. “You mean, like,the President?”

The man turned his penetrating gaze on her. She was pretty sure he could cut glass with it.“Is there another one?” He returned his attention to Chase, whom he seemed to have identified as the man in charge. “Make no mistake, Detective. Charlie wants results. If you can’t deliver him the shooter by this time tomorrow, he’ll make the call. Is that clear?”

“Let me tell you something, counselor,” said Chase, not the least bit intimidated by the lawyer’s tactics. “When we tried to talk to Charlie and his people this morning, they brushed us off. I can’t conduct this investigation without full access to both Charlie and his team. They’re witnesses and it’s important they give us their full cooperation. Do I have your word that you’ll get them to talk to me and talk freely?”

The lawyer nodded curtly.“I’ll advise them to give you full access. All the help you need.” He then stuck out his hand, gave Chase a brief handshake and stalked off without offering so much as a glance or a nod in either Odelia or Uncle Alec’s direction.

“Nice guy,” said Chase. “Warm personality.”

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer,” Uncle Alec agreed.

“Do you think he was bluffing?” asked Odelia. “Can he really get the Feds out here to take over the investigation?”

“Oh, I’m sure he wasn’t bluffing,” said Uncle Alec, rocking back on his heels. “So you better get me something, people. I don’t enjoy the prospect of being locked out of my own investigation in my own town. And I definitely don’t want to get in bad with the President.”

“I don’t want to get in bed with the President either,” Chase said cheerfully.

“Wiseguy,” Uncle Alec said, then wagged a finger in Chase’s face. “I don’t care how you do it, Kingsley, but I want results and I want them now, you hear?” He worried the few remaining hairs still desperately clinging to his scalp and sighed. “Or else we’re all sunk.”

Chapter 8

I have to admit that after our recent standoff with Diego in the alley, the three of us were feeling more than a little sandbagged. In fact it wouldn’t be too much to say we were feeling punch-drunk, as if Diego had put on a pair of boxing gloves and dealt us a glancing blow—a tough proposition when you’re a cat—and had knocked us KO in a single round.

As a consequence we were wandering around more or less aimlessly when suddenly a car screeched to a halt right in front of us, just as we were staggering across the road, and I realized we hadn’t even looked left or right and had almost been turned into roadkill.

A head emerged from the car window, and when I looked up with a degree of trepidation, I saw that the head belonged to none other than Odelia.

“Max! Dooley! Brutus! What are you guys doing here?!” she was saying.

I knew she said this because I saw her lips moving, though the meaning of her words only hit me with a delay of a few seconds, mainly because my first thought when I saw her was that she’d told Diego she was eager to get rid of me—tired of my sad sack stalking ways.

A second head appeared, this one poking out of the driver’s side of the vehicle, and I saw it belonged to Chase Kingsley, the hunky cop Odelia has been dating for a while now.

He, too, had a similar message to convey.“Brutus! Max! Dooley! What the heck?!”

Brutus, I could see, was struggling with the same reservations I was, for he hadn’t forgotten that his human, too, was eager to put him out to pasture and exchange him for the latest model of feline—Diego.