The trap for the blackmailer had been set, and the location the dastardly fiend had chosen was our local park, coincidentally also the place where cat choir likes to convene at night. Ona Konpacka had sent a message to the blackmailer that she was prepared to pay the demanded sum of ten thousand smackeroos, and the blackmailer had immediately replied with a time and a place for the drop-off.
The phone number itself wasn’t registered. It was a so-called burner phone, with a prepaid SIM card that couldn’t be traced or connected to a single person. It was still the way criminals covered their tracks, even though lately encrypted phones had become quite the rage. But clearly our blackmailer wasn’t as sophisticated as all that.
And so we were relegated, not for the first time, to the bushes, which were located near the trash can conveniently placed next to a park bench. No one was sitting on the park bench at the moment, and apart from Ona, who had deposited the envelope containing the money into the trash can, all was quiet.
“What is taking them so long?” Chase grumbled, checking his watch.
“They’re careful, making sure they’re not walking into a trap,” said Odelia.
She and Chase had placed a plastic bag on the ground, on which they were now seated, and neither of them looked very comfortable. Then Dooley and I had a better deal: cats are used to sitting in bushes watching the world go by. Our tushes are perfectly shaped for this type of situation. And even though it’s usually birds we like to watch, or the odd mouse or critter, this time we were on the lookout for much bigger prey. An actual blackmailer and possible murderer!
Chase was hoping that when we nabbed Ona’s blackmailer, we’d also catch Isobel Droba’s killer. And I guess he had reason for this optimism: how else had the blackmailer gotten hold of Ona’s big secret? They must have grabbed the laptop after ending Isobel’s life in such a brutal fashion.
“Odd that Michele’s daughter would be in Mexico right now,” Chase mused. “Just when they’ve discovered the whereabouts of her uncle Gavin.”
“Nothing odd about that,” said Odelia. “She’s an anthropologist, so she goes where the work is. I wouldn’t read too much into that. Just a coincidence, that’s all.”
“I don’t like coincidences,” said Chase. “What if they’re all in on it? The whole family? They killed Dean, so they could get that insurance money and save the company, and then they killed Gavin, just in case he opened his mouth and revealed the truth.”
“Gavin’s death was an accident, Chase. You heard what that detective said.”
“Mh,” said Chase, telling us exactly what he thought of Mark Devine.
“Look,” said Odelia. “Isn’t that Michele’s housekeeper?”
A slim lady approached the park bench. She had a wizened face and gray hair tied back in a bun in a way that looked painful. She had a furtive way about her, looking left and right. At first she walked straight past the bench, halted after thirty yards, then doubled back. And as she did, she glanced down into the trash can, and quick as a flash grabbed the envelope and hurried off.
“Not so fast!” Chase boomed as he rocketed out of his hiding place.
The woman, who clearly wasn’t as old as she looked, paused for a moment, staring at Chase as if he was the boogeyman, then whirled around and started running in the opposite direction.
Chase, cursing under his breath, took off in pursuit, as did Odelia.
Dooley and I would have followed them, but frankly I didn’t see the point. If Chase, a trained sportsman and cop, couldn’t catch her, or Odelia, who also enjoyed spending time in the gym, no one could. And besides, I believe in conserving one’s energy. You never know when you might need it.
“What’s the name of that woman?” asked Dooley as we watched the trio disappear in the distance.
“Bereng?ria Morat?,” I said. “She works for Michele as a housekeeper.”
“So maybe Michele is the blackmailer, and this Bereng?ria is doing her bidding?”
“We’ll know soon enough,” I said, as I watched the trio running back in our direction. Sooner or later, if you wait long enough, everything comes back. Like leg warmers, you know, or ABBA. And so Bereng?ria Morat? was now running up to us, though she was also running out of steam, I could tell. The moment she drew level with us, I stepped forward, and the housekeeper tripped and fell.
Look, did I feel good about tripping up this woman? No, I did not. But she was a blackmailer, so there are mitigating circumstances for what I did.
Chase was quick to apprehend the suspect, and Odelia, when she finally caught up with us, panting and sweating profusely, lamented that she was out of practice. Of course she had a perfect excuse, having pushed a large infant out of her stomach in the recent past. She rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath, while Chase placed a nice pair of shiny cuffs on the housekeeper’s wrists, and informed her that she was under arrest.