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“Mostly what the fire marshal in charge told me. At any rate, at this point they’re seriously looking into that bottle of beer that was brought in—figuring it probably contained something a lot more flammable and explosive than common household beer.”

“An explosive beer bottle. Now that’s something Burt would have appreciated. A most fascinating way to end his life.”

“And it was sent up by a very compelling man.”

“Curt Pigott. Didn’t your people talk to him already?”

“Just routine questions. Your uncle Alec suggested we grill him a little more thoroughly.” They’d approached the elevator and stood waiting for the cab to travel down. “How are your cats, by the way?”

She was touched by his concern.“They’ll be fine. Thanks for telling me about the fleas.”

He shrugged.“The least I can do. I care about the little darlings myself, you know.”

It was the first time Chase had shown any interest whatsoever in her cats, and she was pleasantly surprised.“I didn’t know you were a cat person.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve loved those funny furballs all my life. In fact I had a cat when I was a kid and I loved the little tyke to pieces. Was devastated when it died. Held it in my arms and wouldn’t let it go until my mom told me Blackie was in heaven now, looking down upon me and following my further exploits with keen interest.” He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Blackie?”

“He was a black cat.”

“Right.”

“They do tug at your heart, don’t they?”

She watched with fascination as a tear rolled down his cheek. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before. A tenderness he hadn’t displayed in her presence. It melted her heart.

They rode the elevator up in silence, as she wondered whether to tell him that she could actually communicate with her own little‘furballs.’ Maybe at some point she would.

The elevator doors opened and to her surprise she saw that Max and Dooley were prancing along the corridor.“Hey, babes,” she said. “What are you guys doing here?”

Chase laughed.“Funny. The way you speak cat.”

Caught, she emitted a careless laugh.“Just, you know, saying hi.”

Chase produced a few cat sounds himself. They were gibberish, of course, but it endeared him to her further. He crouched down next to Max and Dooley and tickled their tummies.“Hey, buddies,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here. Are you lost? Are you poor babies lost? Don’t worry. Your friend Chase is here. He’ll take good care of you. Oh, yes, he will. Oh, yes, he will.” At this, he picked up both cats and tucked them into his massive arms.

Max and Dooley, not used to this treatment, stared at Odelia in alarm. She signaled that it was fine and just to go with it. This new, cat-friendly Chase was a true revelation.

“Let’s take them into the interview with us,” she suggested.

“Won’t they be a nui—I mean won’t they be bored?” he asked.

“I’m sure they’ll be on their best behavior,” she said, giving her cats a wink.

Knocking on the door to the Most Compelling Man’s room, Chase took a firmer grip on the cats, with Max and Dooley still looking stunned by this unexpected development.

“Um, Odelia?” asked Max.

She glanced over.

“Why is your boyfriend pawing us like this?”

She merely smiled. Maybe one day she’d tell Chase about her secret, but today wasn’t that day. She could tell him that some cats hate to be manhandled or picked up, though, but before she could, the door opened and a swarthy man dressed in a dressing gown appeared. His hair was pitch-black and gelled back, his face was the color of a mochaccino, and a smattering of dark chest hair came peeping from the top of his burgundy silk gown. He also looked slightly peeved. “Do you realize I ordered room service over half an hour ago? Standards at this hotel have seriously deteriorated since my last visit.” He glanced at the catsChase was holding. “Cats? I order bourbon and you bring me cats? Are you nuts?”

“We’re not from the hotel, Mr. Pigott,” Odelia said.

“Detective Chase Kingsley,” said Chase, dislodging Max and thrusting out a hand. “Hampton Cove Police. And this is Odelia Poole. Civilian consultant with the department. We’re here to ask you a couple of questions in regards to the murder of Burt Goldsmith.”

The man’s eyes went wide in consternation. “Murder? Police? Omigod!”

“May we step inside, sir? Easier to talk in the room than out here in the corridor.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the stricken actor. “Please come in, police people.” He led the way into the nicely decorated room, if you disregarded the items of clothing strewn about everywhere and covering every available surface. Judging from the quality of the garments the man was a fastidious dresser. Perhaps even a most compelling one.