by Nic Saint
“I’m not lying,” I told him. “I’m sure that Odelia will slip the concert in there somewhere.” I’d suddenly remembered my promise to Rufus and Fifi, and felt a pang of guilt that I’d completely forgotten to mention their request to join the big concert!
“Ever since Vesta talked Francis into organizing that concert, he hasn’t mentioned it,” Shanille explained. “And you know how it is with humans: you really have to pin them down and make sure they keep their promises. It’s only one more week until that concert, Max. So we need to start making practical arrangements. Work out the program, print and distribute flyers, sell tickets, start rehearsals—all of that important stuff.”
“Sure, sure,” I murmured, not meeting her eye, which no doubt was shiny with excitement.
Shanille glanced up at our humans, and took up position on the floor, expectantly following the flow of the conversation until it naturally landed on her precious concert.
“So Raban is one of my parishioners,” Father Reilly was explaining, looking a little pained, as if he was letting us in on some deep, dark secret. Or maybe he suffered from constipation, which of course is always a possibility. “And he was in here this morning. He said his conscience was burdened, and he needed to confess. So naturally I accepted to take his confession, and he proceeded to tell me he’d done a most terrible thing.”
“He killed Neda,” said Odelia. Her leg had stopped kicking up and down, and she was sitting completely still now, her full attention focused on the aged priest. She must have realized history was being written: she’d just solved the case of Neda’s murder!
“He said he’d wanted to kill off Neda for a long time. In fact he’d been planning it for months. He said he was sick and tired with his job, his life, everything. Said he was done.”
“Killed her off. He used those exact words, did he?”
Father Reilly’s gray head bobbed up and down. “Indeed he did. It came as a big shock to me, of course. So I told him to go to the police immediately, but he said he couldn’t.”
“And why is that?”
“He said the police were not his friends. They were not in his corner, had never been in his corner, and he had no use for them. Also, they’d stop him if they knew.”
“Stop him?”
“From getting rid of all of his other clients, too.”
“Oh, my God. He’s going to kill Janette and Hazel!”
Father Reilly nodded ruefully. “Which is why I delivered you that note.”
“But we’ve got to stop him.”
“I know. But I can’t break the seal of confession so my hands are tied.”
“So untie them. Tell my uncle what you just told me so he can arrest Raban and charge him with Neda’s murder.”
“I can’t, Odelia, and please don’t tell anyone what I just told you.”
“But the man is a homicidal maniac!”
“I know, but you’ll simply have to find some other way. I can’t be implicated.”
Odelia was silent for a moment, as she thought this through. It was definitely a most unusual situation. Finally she nodded. “I think I know what to do.”
“And you won’t implicate me?”
“No, you won’t be involved whatsoever.” She got up and held out her hand. “Thank you for coming forward, Francis.”
“I felt it my duty,” said Father Reilly, also getting up now. “Neda was a dear, dear friend, and we can’t let her murder go unpunished, or let this maniac murder even more people. Even if it means I must do the unorthodox thing.”
Odelia turned and paused at the door, casting a look down at us. “Let’s go,” she said.
Shanille uttered a soft cry. “She didn’t mention the concert! Max, why didn’t she mention the concert?”
“Um… I guess she’s working her way up to it?”
“Working her way up to it? But how?”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Shanille. And so does Odelia.” And with these words, I hurried out after Odelia, and so did Dooley.
“You get back here, Max!” Shanille shouted. “You tell your human to talk to my human about that concert right now!”
“Sorry—gotta run!”
And then we were out the door—and in the nick of time, too. A feline choir director under duress is a very dangerous thing, let me tell you. I may be pink with tiny spots underneath my nice blorange coat, but at that moment, I was quite sure, Shanille was beet-red, with angry purple splotches all over the place!
25
Raban Pacoccha had been brought into the police station and had been escorted into Uncle Alec’s office for a ‘friendly chat.’
“So, Raban,” said Uncle Alec, who was leading the interview. Chase was also present, and so was Odelia. And Dooley and I, which was exceptional, if I may say so. Usually we spy these events from the windowsill, but now we were live in the room.
“Yes, Chief?” said Raban, blinking one or two times.
“It’s come to our attention that you have something to tell us.”
“Um… no,” said the gardener, looking ill at ease. Then again, when three pairs of human eyes and two pairs of cat’s eyes are drilling into your own, you can be forgiven for being unnerved.
“So a little birdie told me that you’ve been harboring a secret.”
“A secret?”
“That’s right. A big secret.”
“What secret?”
“You’ve been planning this for months, haven’t you? Planning to get rid of Neda!”
A look of panic had appeared in the man’s eye. “Who have you been talking to?”
“Don’t mind about that. Why don’t you tell me what happened yesterday morning?”
“Nothing happened. I did my job, like I always do.”
“So is your job to rob and murder your clients, Raban?”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you what happened. You barged into Neda’s house, because you knew that she kept a big stash of cash in her safe. And you wanted that money, didn’t you? You needed that money. And when she refused to give it to you, you shoved her out of the way, she hit her head and died. And that’s when you knew you were in big, big trouble.”
Raban had been listening with widening eyes as the Chief painted a word picture of the events as they’d transpired. But now he blurted out, “But that’s not true! I didn’t even see her yesterday! I was at Janette’s. I told you this,” he added, addressing Chase.
“I know you did, Raban,” said Chase calmly. “But you were seen at Neda’s. Someone saw you and heard the argument.”
“So you see, son? There’s no use denying,” said Uncle Alec, spreading his arms. “We have a witness.”
“Who’s the witness, Max?” asked Dooley.
“God,” I told him.
“I didn’t know Uncle Alec could speak to God,” said my friend, darting a reverent look at Odelia’s uncle.
“He can’t, but he’s trying to get this guy to confess, so he’s cutting a few corners.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“I’m sure it is, but so is murdering people, Dooley.”
“What witness?” asked Raban suspiciously. “What are you talking about?” Clearly the man was no fool, and knew when he was being played.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” said the Chief.
“Look, whoever this witness is, they’re lying, okay? Cause I wasn’t there. Last time I saw Neda was Monday last week. And she was all right when I left there that day.”
“But why would this witness lie, Raban?” asked the Chief, as he darted a quick look at Odelia, who shook her head.
“I don’t know. To frame me?” He leaned forward and now placed a hand on Uncle Alec’s desk. “It wasn’t me, Chief.” Then he seemed to get an idea. “So maybe this person, this witness, saw someone that looked like me. A lookalike. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Unlikely,” said Uncle Alec with a shake of the head. “Our witness s
pecifically named you, Raban. This person knows you and is absolutely certain that it was you they saw.”
“But… it can’t be, I’m telling you.” The gardener was getting a little worked up now, and was patting the desk with the palm of his hand. “I’m being set up here, man. Set up!”
“Easy, Raban,” said the Chief, watching the gardener closely. “No need to get upset.”
“You think? I’m being framed for murder, man—a murder I didn’t commit!”
“Are you sure, Raban? Because I have to tell you, our witness has a solid reputation in this town.” Once more he directed a quizzical look in his niece’s direction and again Odelia nodded, to indicate she was sure the gardener would soon crack under the strain.
But Raban wasn’t cracking. Instead, he was doubling down. “I’m innocent, man, I’m telling you. Innocent!” He was getting louder and more upset by the minute.
“I believe him, Max,” said Dooley. “He looks very convincing to me. Uncle Alec’s witness must be wrong.”
“There is no witness, Dooley. All we’ve got is a confession we can’t use, since Father Reilly refuses to come forward. So we need to get this man to confess to us somehow.”
“Oh,” said my friend. “Well, I don’t think he will.”
No, it certainly looked that way.
Now Chase leaned over the guy. “Look, Raban,” he said, adopting that deep gravelly tone he does so well. “If you don’t tell us the truth things don’t look good for you. Judges don’t look favorably on this kind of obstructive behavior. So you better start talking and you better start talking now, you understand?”
“But I didn’t do it!” Raban cried, rocking back and forth. “Why don’t you believe me? I got nothing to do with this murder business. I’m being set up—by my enemies!”
“What enemies?” asked Odelia, who seemed to take pity on the guy.
“Where do I start? There’s so many of them!”
“Look, Raban, why don’t you take some time to think about what Chief Lip told you? We’ll take a break for now, and then once you feel ready, we’ll resume this conversation.”
Uncle Alec was shaking his head, and Chase also looked perturbed. I think they thought if they kept leaning on the guy, he would crack and give them his confession.
But Odelia took the gardener’s arm and he got up. “Can I go home now?” he asked a little piteously.
“We’re going to give you a little time to yourself, so you can have a good think.”
And so Raban was taken away to a cell, where he could have his ‘good think’ in peace and quiet. Before he left with one of Uncle Alec’s officers, though, he said, “Can you please ask Father Reilly to come and see me? I’ve got something important to tell him.”
Uncle Alec directed a meaningful look at Chase, who reciprocated with a satisfied look of his own, before shooting a triumphant look at Odelia, who returned it with a confident look that said: ‘See? Trust me, you guys. I know what I’m doing here.’
“No way is this man ever going to confess,” said Dooley, striking the discordant note. “Because he didn’t do it, and why would anyone confess to something they didn’t do? That would be crazy.”
“I think he’s going to confess right now,” I told my friend as we watched Raban being escorted to his cell. “He’s going to confess to his priest, and we’ll all be listening.”
26
Raban Pacoccha was in his cell, spilling his guts, as Odelia had anticipated. A small camera in the corner of the room filmed the whole thing, and in the next room Uncle Alec sat, along with Chase and Odelia and of course Dooley and me, feline witnesses.
Father Reilly was the confessor, listening intently to his confessee, as did we.
“I need to get this off my chest, Father,” said Raban as he looked pained. He was rocking back and forth again, clearly experiencing some form of mental anguish. Then again, when a man kills a woman, it’s bound to eat away at him. Also, I’ve heard that drug addicts can get a little antsy when they haven’t had their fix in a while.
“Please do, my son,” said Father Reilly in unctuous tones as he placed a fatherly hand on the young gardener’s back. “Please don’t hold back and tell me everything. You’ll feel much better once you’ve unburdened your soul.”
“I did it,” said Raban, and Odelia and Chase shared a high-five at this.
“You did what?” asked Father Reilly.
“I’ve taken a leap of faith and I’m ready now.”
“Ready for what, my son?”
“Ready to confess,” Uncle Alec grunted.
“Ready to build that spaceship and fly to the moon, of course,” said Raban. “I’ve been wanting to go for a long time, Father, and I’m finally in a position where if I wait much longer I’ll lose my nerve. So I’m going to step on board of that rocket and take off.” He made a flying gesture with his hand. “Pheeeeeew. Just like that. I’m going to set up my colony there, and be the first man to populate the moon. I’m taking my harem, of course.”
“Your… harem?”
“Sure. Every man going to the moon has to have a harem. I’m taking my entire harem, and together we’ll populate the moon with my offspring. Can you imagine, Father?” he said with a gentle smile. “Little Rabans tripping all across the dark side of the moon?”
“Tripping is the right word,” I muttered. Clearly the man was high as a kite.
“Let’s keep our feet on the ground, son,” Father Reilly tried. “Let’s stay on this planet. You told me in confession this morning that you killed Neda. Do you remember?”
“Oh, sure. I killed off Neda—called her and said I was done. And I’m going to do the same thing with Janette and Hazel and all of my other clients. I need to focus on building my spaceship, you see, so I can leave for the moon.” He held up a knowing finger. “A man who doesn’t know how to bury the dead past, has no future. Isn’t that the truth? So before I fly away, I need to kill off the old Raban, and everything he stood for. And that includes this gardening gig.” There was a graceful beauty about his features now, as he seemed to have come to a decision, anticipating life on that big ball of cheese in the sky. “I think I’ll change the name of the moon to Raban. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? And my children will be called Rabbanites. And together we’ll rule the universe.”
Uncle Alec produced a grunt of disgust, and made a throwaway gesture with his hand. “I should have known this confession business was too good to be true.”
“A drug addict,” said Chase as he sank down onto a chair. “Just another drug addict who’s managed to fry his own brain. And he looked so normal, too!”
“He played us all, son,” said the Chief. “That cuckoo bird played us for suckers.”
“I really thought we had our guy,” said Odelia, looking dejected.
Father Reilly, still forced to listen to Raban’s ravings about his rocket, his harem and his Rabbanites, looked up at the camera and gave us a look of desperation.
It wasn’t hard to interpret that look: ‘Let me out,’ it said. ‘Please let me out!’
Back in Uncle Alec’s office, the human contingent were a sad lot. Father Reilly had also joined us, and looked as disappointed as the rest of us.
“See?” said Dooley. “I said he wouldn’t confess.”
“Oh, he confessed, all right,” I said. “In fact he couldn’t stop.”
Before they terminated the interview Raban had also confessed to ripping off his clients to the tune of fifty bags of manure, which he was going to use to fuel his rocket.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re back to square one,” said Uncle Alec finally.
“I’m sorry,” said Father Reilly. “If I’d known I was dealing with a mythomaniac, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”
“It’s all right,” said Odelia, directing a wan smile at the priest. “He hid it well.”
“Until it all came spouting out like a geyser,” Chase commented.
“I wonder who’s i
n his harem?” said Father Reilly thoughtfully.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and before the Chief could shout ‘enter,’ the door swung open and Dolores’s head popped in. “About that witness on the red bike—any progress?”
“Not now!” Uncle Alec shouted.
“Hold your horses, Chief,” Dolores grumbled, but complied.
I could have told her never to bother a police chief whose prime suspect has just imploded and turned out to be a bust, but then she probably already knew that.
And as I let my gaze drift across the sad faces collected in the small room, I suddenly felt a powerful urge to get out of there. So I gave Dooley a slight nudge, and whispered, “Wanna go for a walk, buddy?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered back.
And it was a testament to how low morale had sunk, that none of those present even noticed how we slipped out the door, which Dolores had left open to a tiny crack.
27
And so we soon found ourselves walking along, the fresh air doing us a world of good after having been cooped up inside for so long.
We saw how Raban walked out of the police station a free man, a big smile on his face, ready to start building his rocket, collect his harem, and fly to the moon. We passed Janette Bittiner at Bittiner Petals, and saw her through the window as she spruced up her storefront with some nice and colorful hydrangeas.
We passed the restaurant where Yoko Bricknell works, and saw how she placed a steaming dish of delicious bouillabaisse in front of a grateful patron. We watched Titta Riding leave the office of her family’s lawyer, looking well pleased. And finally, as we headed in the direction of the park, we passed Town Hall and Town Square and saw Hazel Larobski and her husband Amadeo seated on one of the benches, in the shade of the big trees that cover that side of the square, feeding the birds. On a nearby bench, Cher Shorn sat reading a book.
All in all, it was a testament to the truth that life goes on, even when one of the world’s inhabitants kicks the bucket, like Neda Hoeppner had done the day before.
