Bellingham Mysteries 3: Black Cat Ink Read Free

“The police are here.”
    Seeming to stiffen slightly at the sight of the police officer getting out of her car, Nick asked Peter, “Do you want me to stay?”
    “It’s not necessary. I have to go drive the Hamster truck this afternoon anyway.” Peter released Nick’s hand. “I’ll see you at home.”
    “Right, I’ll see you there,” Nick paused then, cracked a sardonic smile, and added, “ Dad .”
    With that, he fled the scene.
    Like most other members of the Bellingham Police Department, Officers Patton and Clarkson were known to Peter. The very same officers had been first on the scene of Shelley Vine’s murder. They looked very much the same. Officer Patton still sported the same dykey mullet, and Officer Clarkson’s heavy moustache remained eternal, as if stamped out of some mold made in the mid seventies when CHiPs had still been popular.
    They exchanged pleasantries. Officer Patton inquired about Nick, and Peter said he was doing great. Both police officers nodded at him as though it had been their duty to check up on the happiness level Bellingham’s premier young gay couple.
    Officer Clarkson said, “Dr. Nagelschneider tells us you found a cat.”
    Peter explained where he had found the kitten, omitting the fact that he’d been heavily engaged in skulking through the alley minutes beforehand.
    “And you didn’t see anyone there?” asked Officer Patton.
    “Not even a jogger,” Peter replied.
    She nodded, jotted something down in her notebook. “What were you doing in the park that early? It’s pretty far away from Wildcat Cove.”
    Peter thought, ah, small-city police. They do remember where you live.
    “Riding home from a party.” Peter supplied the excuse he had prepared. “Hey, do you mind if I ask a question?”
    Both officers glanced up at him. Peter took this to be assent and said, “Have you seen any other instances of this kind of cat abuse recently?”
    Strangely, Officer Clarkson chuckled. The receptionist, who had been silently eavesdropping on their whole conversation, shot him a glare so cold that Peter felt his testicles shrinking back up into his body.
    Shaking with outrage, she stood and said, “I’m sorry, but I really don’t see what’s funny about that.”
    “I’m sorry. I just thought Mr. Fontaine was going to ask me about the statue that went missing from the university campus.” The officer took off his hat, scratched his head. “I should have known you’d want the inside scoop on this. This is the third incident that veterinarians have reported to us this month, but that’s not unusual for the month of October.”
    “Three reported incidents means there are probably more,” the receptionist said. Now that she’d entered the conversation, she’d apparently decided to stay.
    Officer Clarkson reapplied his hat and turned to address the receptionist directly. “I already spoke with the chief, and he told me that we’ll be issuing a warning to the public later this afternoon. It should be in the Herald and on KGMI first thing tomorrow morning.”
    “Do you think it’s the same sicko as before?” Peter asked.
    “Hey, who’s interviewing who here?” Officer Patton cut in before her partner could answer.
    Peter held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just curious. I know that the police had a suspect before.”
    “It’s not the same one,” Officer Clarkson said. Peter focused on him, since he seemed in a repentant and therefore extremely forthcoming mood after sticking his foot in his mouth.
    “How can you be sure?”
    “Because that individual died very shortly after the investigation began.” Officer Clarkson cast a glance at the receptionist—who had finally returned to her seat—and then to Peter.
    “Can you tell me who that individual was? Now that he’s dead, I mean?” Peter caught himself unconsciously leaning in closer to the officer. He couldn’t help it. Juicy tidbits of information drew him like… Well, like a cat to