Chapter 48
Philomena had finally arrived in town. The wife of Harley Glad had driven straight to the police station, where she had demanded to speak to Chief Lip.
And so Dolores had dutifully informed the chief that there was a person who wanted to speak to him, and she had been ushered into the chief’s office forthwith.
“I demand to know why you haven’t caught my husband’s killer yet,” she said.
Alec, seated behind his desk as usual, looked up at the statuesque blonde and felt a little out of his depth. She looked quite irate, with her hands shoved onto her sides and the look she gave him a few degrees below zero.
It didn’t help that her eyes were the kind of blue you expect mostly to see in an Alaskan lake in the springtime.
“My best people are working on it around the clock,” he assured her.
“Have you at least arrested a suspect?”
That was the trouble with all of these murder mysteries that were always being aired on television. Ordinary civilians started to talk the way they thought the police talked and figured that they could stick their big beaks into an investigation at any moment.
“We haven’t arrested anyone yet, but I can assure you?—”
“You should have made an arrest by now. If this investigation was being run the way it should be run, someone would be in jail right now, and a date for the trial would be set.”
“We have identified several potential suspects and?—”
“Who?” she demanded heatedly. It was odd how eyes that looked so icy could somehow still shoot fire. It was one of those phenomena that had to be seen to be believed. “Who are these suspects? And why haven’t they been brought in?”
“I can’t divulge the details of an ongoing investigation, but I can assure you?—”
“I’m going to put my lawyers on this,” she said, tilting her head and looking down her nose at him.
And quite an attractive nose it was, too.
Though the treatment wasn’t enjoyable, at least he could admire her good looks and her determination to see justice done for her husband.
A lot of people simply wouldn’t have cared.
“I’m going to ask my lawyers to take a closer look at this so-called investigation of yours and see if we can’t sue this police station for wrongful… well, for wrongful something or other.”
“Like I said, I have put my best people on this, and I can assure you that they are conducting this investigation in the most diligent way possible. In fact, they have already found several promising leads. But an investigation like this takes time, Mrs. Glad.”
“Too much time, if you ask me,” she said. She took a seat. “Who are the detectives working on this case?”
“Um, that would be Detective Chase Kingsley, assisted by Officer Marva Prink. Like I said, my top people. Detective Kingsley has never not succeeded in bringing a case to a satisfying conclusion, and Officer Prink is a promising young talent.”
“Sounds like a rookie,” Mrs. Samson grumbled. “You teamed some beer-bellied old guy with a comb-over who is a couple of months away from his pension with a rookie.”
“Detective Kingsley is not nearing the pension age,” he assured the irate woman.
“Look, I need this wrapped up as soon as possible, all right? Do you really want me to hire a private investigator? Who will put this police department to shame by getting results before you do?”
“No, I don’t want that,” he admitted, wondering how he was ever going to get rid of this lady.
She glanced out of the window for a moment.
“There is a cat out there,” she announced, and when Alec looked over, he saw that she was right.
A cat had jumped up onto the windowsill and was listening carefully.
It wasn’t Max, but then any cat these days thought he was a detective, and they all liked to spy on the citizenry.
“There are a lot of cats in Hampton Cove,” he said as he gave the cat a look that he hoped would inspire its imminent departure from that windowsill. Of course, the creature didn’t budge, but stared right back at him, brazen as can be. Ugh. Cats these days.
“And how about that guitar, huh?” she asked.
“My husband was a big fan of this band called Turbo Heartthrob. He collected everything he could find from them, and his latest acquisition was some famous guitar or something. He sent me a picture when he got it. Looked like it was worth a great deal of money.”
“Unfortunately, we haven’t found your husband’s guitar yet,” he said. “But we’re?—”
“Working on it. Yeah, yeah. Sounds like you’re not doing a good job. It’s been days.”
“It’s been one day,” he pointed out.
She sighed like a woman much put-upon. “How about my husband’s dog? Pippy? Where is she?”
“She is being taken care of by my mother,” he said, glad he had an answer to one of her many questions. “She’s in good hands.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” said the woman as she got up.
For a moment, she didn’t seem to know what to do, but then she nodded.
“I hope you have some answers for me soon, Chief Lip. If not, I will hire that private detective. And I will hire a lawyer to take a closer look at this police department and dig up any incompetence he can find. Good day to you.”
“And a good day to you, Mrs. Glad.”
She pulled the door closed with more force than was strictly necessary, and he sighed with relief.
Being the police chief of a small police force had its advantages, but it also meant that he got all the kooks traipsing up to his desk and making all kinds of threats and accusations when things didn’t go the way they wanted.
The door had just closed when it opened again to show the curious face of Dolores Peltz, his desk sergeant.
He rolled his eyes. “How many times, Dolores? Will you never learn how to knock?”
“What did she want, Miss High and Mighty?”
“She wants results,” he grunted. “And she wants them yesterday. And if we don’t deliver, she will hire a lawyer and a private detective, and who knows who else.”
“She looks like trouble,” said Dolores. “I took one look at her and I knew she was trouble with a capital T.”
“She did not seem happy,” he acknowledged.
“So have you found her husband’s killer yet?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “Chase is working on it. And I hope he gets some results soon, because I don’t want to see Mrs. Glad in my office again.”
“Next time I’ll tell her you’re unavailable,” said Dolores with a wink.
“You don’t have to do that, Dolores.” This was the cross he had to bear, and shirking his duties had never been his style. “Can you tell Chase to get in here?”
“Will do, boss,” said Dolores and retracted her head.
Moments later, Chase walked in, followed by Marva, who seemed to have been glued to him these days.
It hurt Alec’s sense of propriety to some extent to see Chase and Marva working so closely together, whereas he should be working with Odelia. But since Odelia was still going through her police academy training, that couldn’t be helped.
“Mrs. Harley Glad was in here just now,” he said. “She demands results, and she demands them now.”
“Oh, so she’s one of those, is she?” asked Marva.
“Yeah, she’s one of those,” he said. “Just talk to her, will you? Ask her what kind of guy her husband was, and if he had any enemies and yadda yadda yadda.”
“I know the drill, boss,” said Chase. “I already talked to her on the phone and asked most of those same questions.”
“Then all you need to do is assure her that we’re doing everything we can to bring her husband’s killer to justice.”
“Oh, how is Odelia doing, by the way?” asked Marva. “I mean, after what happened yesterday? Will she be able to continue, or have they closed down the police academy for the time being?”
“They haven’t closed it down, as far as I know,” said Chase. “Though they probably won’t be using live ammo for the time being. And they will need to find a new instructor after we arrested the old one last night.”
“Imagine stealing from the police,” said Marva. “How crazy do you have to be, right?”
“It happens more often than you might think,” said Alec. Though—touch wood—so far he had never had a corrupt cop on the force. And he hoped to keep it that way.
Chase and Marva departed, and he busied himself with paperwork. Which is when there was another knock on the door, and his mother and Scarlett Canyon barged in—followed by Mercedes Saggers.
He suppressed a groan. “What do you want?” he asked.
“That is a nice way to greet your beloved old mother,” said Ma as she wandered over to the window to look out. When she saw the cat, she waved at it. Then she turned to Alec. “I want a new car, Alec.”
“Look, I already told you that I’m fresh out of cars,” he said.
After she had managed to demolish no less than two police cars in quick succession, one bomb-squad car, and now the BearCat, he didn’t think it was a good idea to give his mother more cars.
In fact, it was probably a good idea to take away her license so she couldn’t drive any cars at all.
“And besides, I thought Marge told you to go back to that old Peugeot?”
“I don’t like the Peugeot,” said Ma as she made a face.
“It’s very old and it doesn’t drive very well, Alec,” said Scarlett.
“I liked that BearCat,” said Mercedes, who seemed to have become a part of the team by now.
“Now that was a real car. The kind of car any self-respecting Neighborhood Watch should be driving. In fact, it should probably be standard issue for all Neighborhood Watch committees across the country. You know, like the official vehicle?”
“That BearCat wasn’t even part of the police-station car pool,” he said. “So the fact that it got demolished is none of my business, Ma.”
“I didn’t demolish it,” said Ma. “That was that nutcase Zeke Hunkoff. And since he’s a cop, technically this is your responsibility.”
“Zeke is not on this station’s payroll,” he reminded his mom. “He works for the police academy. Or at least he used to, before he went rogue and tried to blow up his entire neighborhood.”
She glared at him for a moment, but he was determined not to give an inch.
Finally, she threw up her hands. “Okay, fine. I will drive Marge’s old Peugeot. But if I get crushed by someone in a BearCat plowing into me, you will cry bitter tears at my funeral, Alec Lip. And you will know that it was you who was responsible.”
As the trio filed from his office, for a few moments he watched that door like a hawk, fully expecting someone else to come barging in. When a minute passed and he was still alone, he gradually relaxed.
Time to get to work. He had this strange case of Marge having become addicted to the band Turbo Heartthrob to look into. She may not be the arsonist who had tried to set his niece Odelia’s house on fire, but she was still a potential suspect in the Harley Glad case.
Which is why he had told Chase that he would handle that part of the case personally.
Marva might be a promising young recruit, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be all over his own sister, potentially spreading damaging stories about her.
He picked up the phone, and moments later was in touch with Francis Reilly.