It was obvious we had reached a dead end. And maybe they were right. Maybe Ona and Max Stinger had nothing to hide, and had nothing to do with what happened to Isobel. But I still had the impression that Ona hadn’t answered truthfully when Chase put it to her that she might feature in Isobel’s book.
CHAPTER 16
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Chase had gone off to take another call, and in the meantime Odelia had decided to talk to her mom and dad some more. It so rarely happened that she had family members who’d been present in a house where a murder had taken place. And Marge had actually heard the woman scream. So maybe there was some detail, however small, the parent pair hadn’t yet divulged to their detective daughter.
Dooley and I had other qualms: it was now going on eleven o’clock, and since no meals seemed forthcoming, and Odelia had neglected to pack us a lunch, we were left to our own devices when it came to rustling up something to tide us over until dinnertime rolled around.
“In a house this big, and filled with dogs, there has to be something to eat,” Dooley said as we wended our way to the kitchen.
“It’s only two dogs, though,” I said. “And maybe Ona feeds them from her own little stock of dog food.”
“Dog food, cat food, I don’t care what we find. I’m not picky, Max.”
I would have reminded him that he was a vegetarian now, but that seemed unduly harsh. So instead I said,“We’re bound to find something to eat.”
But the kitchen was eerily devoid of foodstuffs. No chef whipping something up and prepared to throw two hungry kitties a tasty morsel of something yummy. And no house guests enjoying an early lunch or late breakfast either. In fact the place looked deserted, with all the tasty stuff locked up inside gleaming cupboards and sizable fridges.
“Maybe they’ve hidden the stuff somewhere else?” Dooley suggested.
But before we could retreat, we heard footsteps coming hither, and hope once more surged in our bosoms—and our empty stomachs.
The footsteps belonged to Michele Droba, always a likely candidate to dispense with some of the good stuff, quickly followed by Ona Konpacka.
“Here should be fine,” said Michele. “It’s just us and those two kitties.”
Ona eyed us with a touch of suspicion, but we returned her gaze with a look of absolute innocence—and expectation.
“So what was it you wanted to ask?” said Michele as she took a seat at the kitchen counter.
“It’s the police. They’ve been asking me about Isobel’s book. Wanting to know if I’m in it.”
“Yeah, they seem to have taken a keen interest in Isobel’s scribblings,” Michele confirmed. “And for good reason, too.”
“So that book is connected to her murder?”
“Of course it is. The man who took it probably wants to sell it to the highest bidder.”
“Oh, God,” Ona said as she touched her face, patting it gently as if she couldn’t believe it was back in working order. “Tell me she didn’t mention me in her book?”
“I wouldn’t know, my dear. I haven’t had the pleasure of reading it.”
“But Chris. He’s Isobel’s publisher. So he must know.”
“He doesn’t. Isobel hadn’t delivered him the manuscript yet.”
“So Chris hasn’t read it? Nobody has read it?”
“Nobody has read it,” Michele assured the woman. “May I ask why you’re so concerned about Isobel’s book?”
Ona hesitated, but then the urge to confide in someone was stronger than her desire to keep it a secret.“She was easy to talk to, Isobel was.”
“I know she was.”
“I should never have told her.”
Michele waited patiently while Ona was still struggling with her conflicting impulses. Finally, she said,“It happened a long time ago. At the beginning of my career. Or before, actually, back when I didn’t have a career yet. I did have a sister, Katey. One year older than me. Beautiful, smart, and ambitious. She dreamed of being a model, and so did I. But my sister was pretty, and I was gangly as a teenager. Not pretty at all. And I wore glasses. So I knew I’d never be a model. And then one day a scout for one of the big modeling agencies spotted my sister at our local mall—we were living in Wisconsin back then. He asked her name and phone number, and said he’d be in touch.” She tooka deep breath. “Only when he did get in touch, I intercepted the message and went to the meeting instead. I deleted the message and never mentioned it to my sister. I got my hair done, ditched the glasses, went for a complete makeover. And I bagged a contract. The model scout was surprised to seeme, but I explained that my sister had no interest in being a model but I did. So he took a chance on me.”
Michele studied the former model.“And this is what you told Isobel? What you think might be in her book?”
Ona, who had taken a tissue and was dabbing at her eyes, nodded.“My sister doesn’t know. Nobody does. And why I ever decided to tell Isobel, God only knows.”