The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (chrome ebook reader txt) 📗

on Odelia and Chase’s faces. “Yeah, banker by day, raver by night. I know it looks a little weird, but I like it this way. I give my days to the establishment, and my nights to the anti-establishment. It seems like a nice balance.”

Odelia and Chase got up, a clear sign the interview was over. “Oh, one more question,” said Chase. “Before I forget. Did your friend own a car?”

“No, he didn’t. Darryl didn’t believe in cars. He used his bike to get around.”

“But then how did he get his DJ material all the way out to those woods?”

“I took care of the logistics. Darryl just showed up to do this thing.” He smiled. “Here, I’ll show you a clip of Darryl in action.” He took out his phone and for the next five minutes we were treated to a medley of the best of Darryl Farmer—mainly techno music as far as I could tell. Not exactly my thing, but Odelia and Chase seemed to enjoy it.

“What is that noise, Max?” asked Dooley after a moment.

“It’s music, Dooley!” I said, yelling to be heard over the loud noise.

“Music? I thought it was a fire drill!”

“It’s called techno music!” I yelled. “Or house!”

“Whose house?”

“No, the name of the music genre is house!”

“I don’t get it!”

And frankly neither did I. And consequently I was very happy to get out of there!

Chapter 21

“So what do we have?” asked Odelia as she checked her notes while Chase did the same. They were in Chase’s office at the precinct, going over their recent discoveries and trying to figure out where they stood. “We have a John Doe found in the woods—shot at close range with a .38 caliber firearm. We have Karl Bunyon out and about in those same woods that same night, dumping his wife’s cat and a bunch of other cats and claiming he didn’t see or hear anything suspicious. And we have a rave, also in those woods, attended by dozens of ravers, amongst whom is Bunyon’s stepdaughter Suzy, and DJ’d by Darryl Farmer, Suzy’s boyfriend, who just happened to be found dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft two nights later.” She looked up. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, you summed it up pretty well,” said Chase. “So what do you think the connection is?”

“I think it just might be that Darryl Farmer saw something he wasn’t supposed to see—the killer maybe—and that he was shoved down that elevator shaft for his trouble.”

“We can’t rule out that it was an accidental death,” Chase pointed out.

“No sign of a struggle?”

“Nothing to indicate he met a violent death. Though as you say, he could have been pushed. It’s impossible to say without any witnesses.”

“What I don’t like is this connection between Karl Bunyon and Darryl.”

“Suzy Bunyon.”

Odelia nodded. “What are the chances of Darryl being at the same place at the same time as Karl’s stepdaughter, and of two people ending up dead soon after?”

“Slim.”

“Very slim.”

“But what’s the connection?”

“Frankly I have no idea, Chase. But it’s too much of a coincidence if you ask me.”

“No, I think you’re absolutely right. As I see it our friendly neighborhood catnapper was out in the woods that night, dumping his wife’s cats, and he was caught by John Doe. So he shot him and buried him to prevent the truth from coming out. But unfortunately for him Darryl Farmer, his stepdaughter’s boyfriend, also ran into him, recognized him, and so he decided that Darryl had to die, too, for being another annoying witness.”

“This is all speculation, you do realize that, right?”

“Oh, sure, but do you have a better explanation?”

“None,” she had to admit.

“One dead body could be explained away as an unfortunate coincidence, but a second one?” Chase got up. “I think I’m going to get myself a nice arrest warrant and talk to our catnapper again, only this time not in the comfort of his own home but here at the precinct. And I’m going to take a closer look at the man’s house and place of business.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to turn anything up?”

“You know? A good cop follows his instincts, and right now my instinct is to go after Karl Bunyon—big time.”

While Chase and Odelia were in conference inside, Dooley and I had decided to take a little break from the investigative efforts and go for a walk instead. I may be a curious kitty, and so is Dooley, but being subjected to that impromptu rave party had frankly rattled me, and I needed some peace and quiet and fresh air to boot! Also, my ears were still ringing, and my nose was twitching. I guess I’m not cut out to be a raver. Or a DJ.

And so it was that Dooley and I were roaming around outside, and soon found ourselves circling the benches and trees on Town Square, waiting for Odelia to emerge from her conference with new and fresh instructions.

And as we took our sojourn under a nearby tree and enjoyed a lie-down, who did we happen to see but our friend the head raver, in the company of… Suzy Bunyon!

The pink-haired minx was crying profusely, and Todd Park, his beefy arm around her shoulder, was doing his utmost to console her. And since there seemed to be no danger of Todd bringing out his DJ set and turning Town Square into the scene of one of his raves, Dooley and I decided to move a little closer and see if we could pick up what they were discussing.

“But what happened, Todd? He was fine yesterday, and now suddenly he’s dead!”

“I don’t know, Suzy. All I know is what the police told me: he had an accident and fell down an elevator shaft.”

“But what was he doing out there?”

“I have no idea. He wasn’t meeting you by any chance, was he?”

“Definitely not,” said the girl, wiping at her eyes with a paper tissue helpfully supplied by the banker-slash-raver. “You don’t think he was out there with some