Who's Kitten Who? Read Online Free PDF Page B

blurting out.
    “Hey, welcome to the media age,” he replied defensively. He stood up straighter, puffing out his chest like a rooster intent on proving who was king of the barnyard.
    “That’s something I happen to be familiar with,” I replied cheerfully, recognizing the need to stay on his good side. “A few months ago I started doing a weekly spot on Channel Fourteen TV—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I know all about that.” Eyeing me warily, he added, “I’m kinda busy here, Dr. Popper. I’m goin’ on camera in about five minutes. What can I do for you?”
    “You want her outta here?” his beefy bodyguard offered gruffly.
    “No, we’re okay.” He hesitated before adding, “So far.”
    I decided to jump in before I was muscled out. “Lieutenant Falcone, I’m trying to find out whatever I can about Simon Wainwright’s murder. You see, I’m—”
    “Then you’re in the right place at the right time,” he returned with a smug smile. “I’m about to go on TV to tell the people of Norfolk County that we’ve got this investigation under control.”
    “So you know who the killer is?” I asked hopefully.
    His smile vanished. “I didn’t say that, did I?”
    “Well, no, but you implied that you—”
    “I can assure you, the same way I intend to assure all the county’s residents, that Norfolk County Homicide is doing everything in its power to find out who was responsible for the death of Simon Wainwright.”
    In other words, I thought, reading between the lines, he didn’t have a clue.
    “How was Simon killed? Who are you questioning?” I asked. “Do you have any suspects?”
    “You got a TV?” he shot back. “Go home and turn it on.”
    I decoded his response to mean that the answer was no.
    In other words, at this point Falcone and his posse of homicide detectives didn’t know any more about Simon Wainwright’s murder than I did.
    “Thanks for your time,” I said, recognizing a dead end. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call you in a few days to see how the investigation’s going.”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Falcone protested. “Whaddya talkin’ about? The investigation of Simon Wainwright’s murder’s got nothin’ to do with you.”
    “I’m just a concerned citizen,” I assured him. “And I happen to be particularly interested in this because Simon was a friend of one of my dearest—”
    “Madonn’,”
Lieutenant Falcone muttered. “Here we go again. Dr. Popper, don’t tell me I’m gonna be running into you at every turn. I hope this isn’t gonna be another one of those murder investigations where you’re gettin’ in my way every time I try to do my job.”
    My eyebrows shot up so high they nearly collided with the dome-shaped ceiling. Rather than “getting in his way,” as Lieutenant Falcone characterized our past interactions, I had actually
solved
several of the crimes that were part of that job he alluded to so proudly. But instead of getting any appreciation, aside from the occasional begrudging acknowledgment, all I got was attitude.
    Fortunately, I had other options. In fact, I was contemplating the best way of taking advantage of them when I noticed the most obvious one entering the lobby of the courthouse, looking as if he’d received a personal invitation to be there.

    “If it isn’t the very person I was hoping to see!” I called out to Forrester Sloan.
    Turning my back on Lieutenant Falcone, both literally and figuratively, I strode across the tremendous lobby. As I did, I wished I were wearing shoes with heels that clicked loudly. Somehow, trying to make a statement with rubber soles just didn’t cut it.
    As soon as Forrester glanced in my direction, his face lit up. “He-e-ey!” he greeted me. “If it isn’t my favorite vet and amateur sleuth. How’s it goin’, Popper?”
    He did indeed look glad to see me. Too glad. While I’d always done my level best to keep our relationship professional, the
Newsday
reporter didn’t exactly see things the