by Nic Saint
“Do you want me to get you a doctor, Dad?” Chase quipped.
But Dad wasn’t smiling. In fact he looked like he always did when Gran came up with another one of her cockamamie ideas. And somehow Odelia had a feeling the fever hadn’t yet passed. And it wouldn’t pass until the house that Mom and Dad were building had actually been built—which hopefully would be very soon!
3
We were in Odelia’s office, far removed from the hubbub that tends to engulf the Poole family. Usually Harriet and Brutus were also in there with us, but unfortunately the white Persian and her black mate had left us for calmer climes in the form of the home of Marge and Tex’s next-door neighbors the Trappers, and now resided with them—or at least I think they did, as I hadn’t seen much of our two friends since they’d moved on.
Odelia was slaving away at her computer as usual, working on some article for the Hampton Cove Gazette, and Dooley and I were resting peacefully in a corner of the office, where Odelia had organized a fun cozy little nook for us to do what we do best: nap!
Suddenly the door to the office opened and a woman entered whom I’d never seen before. She was stylishly dressed, stylishly coiffed, and was also very tall, with long legs clad in nylon stockings under a short black skirt. All in all she reminded me of a model.
Odelia looked up from her computer and gave her new visitor a smile. “Hi, there. What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure,” said the woman, and laughed an uncertain laugh, then took a seat at the desk. “A friend of mine says you’re the person to see when you find yourself in some kind of big trouble—and I’m definitely in big trouble.”
“What trouble would that be, Mrs…”
“Barn. Erica Barn, though for the last three years I’ve gone through life as Erica Strauss.”
Odelia blinked. “Strauss as in…”
The woman nodded. “I’m Carl Strauss’s wife.”
“He’s a golfer,” I whispered for Dooley’s sake.
“A golfer? You mean like Gran?”
“Exactly like Gran. Though I don’t think Gran is in Carl Strauss’s league. Mr. Strauss is a professional golfer, which means he plays golf for a living.”
“Is he any good?”
“He’s the best. At least when he’s not running around cheating on the woman he happens to be married to at the moment.”
We both turned to Mrs. Erica Barn, who appeared to be the latest Mrs. Strauss—or rather the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Strauss if I interpreted her words correctly.
“I want to divorce Carl,” said Erica Barn, “only he doesn’t want to.”
“Your husband doesn’t want a divorce?” asked Odelia, obviously surprised.
“He says he still loves me and wants to give our marriage another chance. Only I don’t want to give it another chance. As far as I’m concerned I’ve given it too many chances already, and every time Carl has let me down. So I’ve decided that enough is enough.”
“I think if you really want to divorce Carl there’s nothing he can do to stop you.”
“He can make it very difficult for me,” said Erica, “and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He told me he’ll fight me every inch of the way.”
“Look, if you want out, you get out. It’s that simple. Nobody can force you to stay married against your will.”
“I know, but at what cost? He’ll try and drag my name through the mud. He’s going to destroy my career if I let him. And then he’ll take me to the cleaners and make sure I’m left with absolutely nothing. I’ll leave the marriage with only the clothes on my back.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a model,” said Mrs. Barn. “Only I haven’t modeled since I married Carl, and I’m not getting any younger, so if I want back in, it’s going to be tough going. And with Carl talking every modeling agency into blackballing me, it’s going to be even harder.”
“I see,” said Odelia. “I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barn.”
“Erica, please.”
“But I don’t see what you want me to do. I’m a reporter, not a lawyer, so…”
“I know, but I was thinking that maybe you could go and have a word with Carl? Someone needs to get it through that thick skull of his that this marriage is over, and that I’ll never go back.”
“You want me to talk to Carl.”
“Carl is not an unreasonable man. He’s simply surrounded by a lot of unreasonable people. Someone needs to get through to him. Someone who’s on my side.”
“And you want me to be that person for you.” Odelia looked understandably skeptical.
Erica nodded. “Look, I understand that this is a very unusual request, Miss Poole.”
“Just call me Odelia.”
“But frankly I’m desperate. Carl has canceled all my credit cards, he’s cut me off from my own bank account—I’m currently staying at an Airbnb in town, paying with what little cash I have left, but if I don’t go back to work soon I’ll be broke. Only I’m in some kind of limbo right now. The agency that used to employ me also works for Carl—for his line of clothes and his line of footwear. So they don’t want to hire me as long as this divorce thing isn’t settled. You see what kind of predicament I’m in right now? Carl is a very influential person, even in my industry. He’s worked as a celebrity model, and knows all the key people. So I’m persona non grata as long as Carl doesn’t let me go.”
Odelia clearly took pity on the woman, for she nodded. “Where is Carl staying?”
“He has a house near the beach,” said Erica, looking extremely relieved. “Oh, Odelia, you don’t know what this means to me.”
“I can’t promise you I’ll succeed. But I’ll have a word with your husband, and I’ll do my best to convey the message that he needs to accept that the marriage is over.”
“He cheated on me, you know. That’s why I left him. And it wasn’t the first time either. He keeps hooking up with all these different women. I know he thinks I don’t know. That he can do this behind my back. But I know. Of course I know. I mean—everybody knows.”
“He’s not very faithful, is he?”
“No, he’s not. Carl has issues, that’s obvious. It’s like an addiction. He just can’t stop. I confronted him about it, of course. And he promised he’d get help. But he’s made those promises before, and each time he breaks them. And so I think for my own sanity I need to put this behind me, and create as much distance between myself and Carl as possible.” She opened her purse and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “This is Carl’s number, and this is his address. Just tell him I sent you. I’m sure he’ll take your call.”
4
Odelia decided to pop into her boss’s office to have a chat about this interesting new story that had just been thrown into her lap. She gave the door to his office a quick knock and ducked her head in. “You’ll never guess who just came to see me,” she said.
Her aged boss looked up from his computer, his white beard waggling bemusedly. “Erica Barn, also known as Erica Strauss.”
She blinked at the man. “Are you psychic?”
Dan laughed. “Of course I am. Didn’t you know? No, she came in here before I showed her your office. She was looking for the famous Odelia Poole.” He leaned back with a grin on his face. “You’re becoming famous, honey. Which is a good thing as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’m hardly famous, Dan.”
“Tell that to Mrs. Strauss.”
“Who doesn’t want to be Mrs. Strauss anymore,” said Odelia, taking a seat at her editor’s desk. “She’s decided she wants a divorce, and she wants me to help her get it.”
“So now you’re a divorce lawyer, are you?”
“Carl is refusing to grant her the divorce, and Erica hopes I can convince him.”
Dan turned serious. “It’s a fascinating story, but watch your step, my pet.”
“Why? You don’t think Carl is liable to get physical with me, is he?”
“No, but he
might sic his horde of lawyers on you. The man is extremely litigious, which is probably why we haven’t seen a lot of stories about his rumored infidelities in our local papers. At least not in this paper, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“You don’t want me to write about the man’s upcoming divorce?”
“Once it’s in its final stages, by all means, but I don’t want to risk the man’s ire by writing a lot of unsubstantiated rumor and innuendo.”
“I’ll make sure to keep it clean,” she promised with a grin.
“We are a family paper, Odelia,” Dan reminded her. “And also, unfortunately we don’t have the money to defend ourselves if Carl Strauss’s expensive lawyers descend on us.”
She was a little surprised by the line Dan was taking. “So what are you saying? I should handle this as a personal matter in my own time, not as a representative for the paper?”
“No, you can represent the Gazette all you want, but try not to upset the man too much, will you?”
“I’ll give him the gloved approach,” she promised.
“By the way, how is your article on the Hampton Heisters coming?”
“I’m getting there. In fact I was putting the final touches to the article when Erica walked in just now.”
“Anything new on this infamous crew of thieves?”
“Nothing,” she said. “The police have nothing, and neither do I.”
Dan sat back and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “A gang of thieves targeting the rich and famous. You would think the Hamptons would have faced such a threat before, but as far as I can tell this is the first time.”
“How many victims now?”
“Five so far, and all of them as high-profile as they come. Jewels stolen, and cash, of course, but also personal mementos that seem to indicate that these thieves are trying to cash in on the fame of these people.”
“Selling the stuff on eBay?”
“Well, that’s the strange thing. Nothing has shown up on any of the auction sites.”
“Maybe they have some fence who’s selling this stuff on the black market?”
“Could be, but your husband would have heard about it if they did.” He shook his head. “No, I have a feeling we’re dealing with something completely different here. Thieves… but also… fans?”
“You think they’re keeping these mementos for themselves?”
“It’s a possibility we have to consider. Which means that we might be dealing with some kind of extreme fandom here.”
5
Even though cats are not allowed on the links, Odelia had still managed to smuggle Dooley and me in. She wanted us there when she conducted her interview with Carl Strauss, though she had asked us to stay hidden, and make sure we weren’t spotted.
Lucky for us—and for her—a golf course consists of a lot of shrubberies and greenery, and so we had no difficulty staying hidden while she talked to the famous pro golfer. We were at Hampton Cove’s pride and joy: the Riviera Country Club, where men went golfing, and women came to enjoy a leisurely time spent with the local tennis pros.
Carl Strauss was not a tall man, but he was still quite impressive with his slim build and the suavity of his manner. I could see how a lot of women would fall for his magnetism and the debonair way in which he held himself. The man simply oozed charm, and his smile was so seductive even I felt drawn to the guy—and I’m a cat!
“Look, I don’t know what Erica told you, Miss Poole,” said Carl as he gently teased a golf ball into a hole a few inches further. “But we’re still very much together and as far as I’m concerned that’s exactly the way it’s going to stay for the foreseeable future. We love each other, you see, and there’s nothing you or anybody else can do about that.”
“She told me she wants to divorce,” said Odelia. “And she also told me she told you she wants to divorce, but that you’re refusing to grant her one.”
“This is all very silly,” said Carl, that smile still firmly in place as he picked the little white ball from the hole and pocketed it. “I made a mistake, and I admit it. But I promised Erica that this would be the last time I made such a terrible error of judgment.”
“She says she caught you cheating on her several times, Mr. Strauss.”
“Oh, I think we both know that she’s exaggerating. Several times? Okay, so I have made the odd slip. See, Miss Poole, the problem is that I’m too kind-hearted. Other people of my stature keep a solid distance between themselves and the outside world—fans and such. They build a wall around themselves and don’t allow anybody in. I’m not like that. I’m from a modest background myself, and I find it very hard to draw a line when I meet one of my many, many fans. Especially when they show me with their words or actions that they enjoy my company. If I have one weakness it is that I simply love to be loved—I’m a people’s friend. And that’s been the main problem all along. Erica expects me to pay attention only to her. Whereas I like to be everybody’s friend, see?”
“Your friends all seem to be attractive young women.”
“Oh, I have many male friends, too, Miss Poole. In fact you’d be surprised to know—”
“Look, all I know is that Erica wants a divorce, and so—”
“She doesn’t want a divorce,” Carl assured her. “She just thinks she wants a divorce.”
They’d moved on to the next hole, as I think the vernacular goes, and Carl was now waggling his golf club, poised to hit the ball in the direction of yet another target. Frankly, I didn’t see the point of the whole endeavor: why hit a ball with a stick, only to hit it again later? It all seems pointless. Then again, I’m just a cat, of course. Cats don’t play with balls. That’s dogs. And humans. A predilection both species have in common.
“What’s a sax maniac, Max?” suddenly Dooley asked.
“Um…”
“Only I heard it on the news this morning. In the kitchen? They were talking about Carl Strauss. One of the reporters said he’s a sax maniac. Addicted to sax, they said. Did they mean he’s addicted to sax music?”
“Not sax—sex with an e,” I said before I realized my mistake. Oops.
“Oh.” He thought about this for a moment. “So what does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, I guess it means that Carl likes sex very much,” I said, treading carefully.
“But why, Max? Why does he like sex so much?”
“I guess he must find it… pleasant?” I suggested.
“But they said he’s addicted to it, and in the office this morning Erica said the same thing. She said that her husband is addicted. Like an alcoholic, but not to alcohol but sex.”
“I guess people can be addicted to different things,” I said. “Some people are addicted to alcohol, or cigarettes, or drugs, and others, like Carl Strauss, are addicted to sex.”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Dooley asked now as he gave Carl a look of suspicion.
“Dangerous? What do you mean?”
“Well, if he’s addicted to sex, don’t you think he wants to have, like, sex all the time?”
“Um…”
“I think we should warn Odelia. Just in case he attacks her. On the television this morning they said that no woman is safe when Carl Strauss is around. That he will hit on them.” His eyes went wide. “He might use those sticks, Max—to hit Odelia!”
“They’re called clubs, Dooley. Golf clubs. And they’re used to hit that little white ball across the fairway in the direction of that hole over there—not to hit women.”
Dooley thought about this for a moment. “I still think we should warn Odelia. I think she’s in danger and she doesn’t know it.”
“And I think Odelia can take care of herself,” I countered. “But just in case he does try any funny business, we’re right here, Dooley, and we’re not letting her out of our sight.”
“Oh, you bet we’re not,” he said.
And so he kept on watching Carl like a hawk—or an extremely vigilant cat—ready to pounce on the man as
soon as he made a move to pounce on our human.
“So you’re not going to grant her the divorce?” asked Odelia. Carl had just managed to hit the ball into the rough, and was rooting around where it had fallen.
“Just give Erica a little time, Miss Poole. She’ll come to see that she doesn’t really want a divorce. That in fact she’s never been happier.”
“She doesn’t look happy to me, Mr. Strauss.”
Carl smiled his charming smile. “That’s because you don’t know her. If you knew her as well as I do—she is, after all, my wife—you’d know that before she met me she was living a shallow life—the life of a person focused on outer appearances. Since we met she’s discovered there’s a deeper layer to our existence as human beings.”
“And what is that?”
“Love, Miss Poole! And with me, she found this deeper layer. And rest assured, she doesn’t want to go without this precious love that we share. This wedded bliss. Okay, so from time to time I’ve strayed. I’ve made myself too available to members of the opposite sex. But that’s just a physical thing. Me being a warm and tactile person. But the love that Erica and I share? Nothing can ever come close to that. I know it, and she knows it.”
“Look, you can talk all you want, Mr. Strauss,” said Odelia, “but the fact of the matter is that your wife is very upset with you right now, and that she doesn’t want anything to do with you. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can both move on.”
“But I don’t want to move on!” suddenly Carl burst out. It was the first time he’d allowed an outburst like that, and for a moment the mask slipped and the angry and frustrated individual underneath showed. But then he quickly composed himself again. He ducked down behind a bush and picked up his ball. “Well, there you are, you little devil,” he said, and briskly walked back to the green, where he proceeded to place the ball down, give it a good whack with his club, and watch it plunge into the lake. He heaved a deep sigh, then said, “Looks like this isn’t my day.”
“So are you going to grant your wife her divorce?” asked Odelia.
