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“Did you know that worms don’t like Cat Snax?” Dooley asked. “It’s true. They hate it. So if you ever have worms, Buster,” he said earnestly, “eat a lot of Cat Snax. And scoot.” I gave him a critical look and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I forgot. Scootingis not really a thing. And neither is eating Cat Snax to get rid of worms.” He kicked at a small pile of hair that Fido had swept into the corner. “Damn that cat is convincing!”

“He is,” said Buster. “I believed every word he said. He’d make a great politician.”

“Or a great lawyer,” I added.

“Or a Cat Snax salesperson,” Dooley said.

A harrowing thought suddenly occurred to me.“Do you think Milo’s been talking to other cats, too?” I asked Buster.

“Sure. Up and down the block. He’s real chatty.” Then his expression darkened. “Did you know that Kingman tells everyone who wants to listen that my mother was a bald cat? My mother wasn’t bald. She had beautiful fur, just like me. Big, beautiful fur. Orange, too. Lovely color. Now who would say such a horrible thing?” I gave Buster a keen look. He stared at me for a moment, then understanding dawned. “Kingman never said anything about my mother, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

“Milo invented that story to make me upset with Kingman.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Fooled again! Oh, man!”

I patted him on the back.“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Buster. He fooled us, too.”

And as we walked out of the barber shop, I had the sinking feeling that Hampton Cove’s entire cat population would soon be on the verge of war. And all because of one cat.

Ugh.

Chapter 36

Down at the precinct, Chase had just walked in when Dolores, who ruled over the station reception with an iron fist, yelled out,“Kingsley!”

He joined her at the front desk.“Dolores?”

Dolores was a big-boned woman with blond, curly hair, a no-nonsense expression tattooed on her face, and a fondness for mascara that made her look slightly scary.“You got a visitor, Kingsley.”

“Who is it? Santa?”

She grinned.“Santa only visits boys who’ve been good.”

“I’ve been good.”

“That’s not what I hear. Word on the street is that you’ve allowed yourself to be muscled out of the Chief’s niece’s house by his own damn mother!”

“Hey, what do you want me to do, Dolores? Kick out Odelia’s granny so I can move in?”

“You could make an honest woman out of Odelia by putting a ring on her finger.”

“And all this from the word on the street, huh?”

“The street is wise, Kingsley.”

“The street’s a wise-ass,” he said as he walked away. “Who’s my visitor?”

“Yasir Bellinowski. Said you’d told him to come in.”

And so he had. Only he’d never expected Mr. Bellinowski to actually comply.

He walked through the station office, where several of his colleagues were hard at work answering phone calls, typing out reports on their computers, and generally doing their darndest to keep the peace in the rustic little town of Hampton Cove.

Yasir Bellinowski was waiting in one of the interview rooms. He was dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit that probably cost more than Chase’s paycheck for that month, and was glancing annoyedly at a gold watch that might have cost more than Chase’s paycheck for the whole year. The man’s hair was slicked back, and Chase wondered if no one had bothered to tell him that people didn’t wear their hair like that anymore.

He waltzed in and took a seat across from the guy.“Mr. Bellinowski. I wasn’t expecting you.”

The other man smirked.“Don’t tell me. You’re pleasantly surprised.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that.” He opened a file folder on the table in front of him. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“Sure. Dickerson, right? Scumbag that got whacked the other day. So ask away, Detective. Do your worst.” He checked his watch again, auspiciously this time. “Though I should probably warn you I’m a busy man and I’ve got a busy schedule today.”

Bellinowski was rumored to be in charge of a network of illegal gambling outfits throughout the area, and was probably the biggest loan-shark in Hampton Cove. Chief Alec had been trying to put him out of business for years, but so far he’d dodged that bullet.

“So rumor has it that Dick Dickerson kept some files on you in his safe,” said Chase, deciding to cut to the chase. “And that you weren’t too happy about that.”

“So he might have kept tabs on me,” said Bellinowski with a shrug. “What can I say? The guy loved his celebrities.”

“And you consider yourself a celebrity, is that it?”

“Something like that,” the mobster said with a grin.

“I sure would like to know what was in those files, Yasir.”

“I couldn’t tell you. Probably a bunch of made-up stuff.”

“There’s also a rumor—”

“Don’t believe everything people tell you, Detective.”