Meow If It's Murder (Nick and Nora Mysteries) by T.C. LoTempio Page B

him famous. You see, he was hired by Adrienne Sloane—Lola Grainger’s sister. Right before he disappeared, he told me he suspected Lola’s death was no accident—that it was murder, and he was this close to proving it.
    “And now . . . I’m afraid he may be dead, too.”

FIVE

    A fter a few seconds, I found my voice. “You really think Nick Atkins is dead?”
    Ollie cleared his throat. “Of course, I’m not one hundred percent certain, but considering what he was working on, it’s a very good possibility.”
    I pursed my lips, my thoughts in a whirl. “I have to admit,” I said slowly, “that I myself read all the accounts of Lola’s . . . accident, and I also feel something just doesn’t add up.”
    “Ssh!” Ollie’s eyes went wide, and he put a finger against his lips. “I wouldn’t voice that opinion too loudly if I were you.”
    “Okay.” I paused. “It is possible he’s undercover somewhere. Gathering his facts. I witnessed a lot of that in Chicago.”
    “I’m sure you did, and of course it’s a possibility, but somehow I don’t think so. Six weeks is a long time not to hear from Nick.”
    “Six weeks is a drop in the bucket when you’re undercover.”
    “Yes,” Ollie laughed, “but trust me, undercover or not, if Nick were still able to, he’d have communicated with me in some way, I know he would.” He waved his hand. “I know what you’re thinking—I called him a deadbeat and all, but—what can I say? We were best friends as well as partners. I know Nick as well as I know myself. If he were alive, even if he were in deep cover, he’d have gotten word to me somehow. That’s what makes me think I’ve seen the last of him, dammit.”
    Ollie’s eyes glistened with sudden moisture and I squeezed his arm. “Have hope, Ollie. It’s never over till the fat lady sings, right? You never know, Nick could walk through that door tomorrow.”
    “Yeah, and I could get hired as one of Cher’s backup singers, too. Hey, it’s always been a secret dream of mine.” He grinned. “Or maybe Lady Gaga. I like her style.”
    The thought of this two-hundred-something-pound black man in one of Lady Gaga’s outrageous outfits made me want to laugh out loud. I resisted the impulse and asked, “You said that Adrienne Sloane hired him. Have you tried to contact her, see if she possibly knows anything?”
    “No, I haven’t.”
    “Why not?”
    He made a clucking sound, deep in the back of his throat, and mumbled something so low I had to lean over and ask him to repeat it. “Because it’s possible she might be dead, too.”
    I half rose out of my chair. “
What?
How can you possibly make a statement like that?”
    “I can’t be absolutely certain, any more than I can be certain Nick is dead. But the last time I saw him, he was on his way out that door to meet Adrienne Sloane. He said she had something to tell him that could change the direction of the entire case.”
    I frowned. “That’s all? He didn’t tell you any more than that?”
    “I was lucky to get that much out of him. Anyway, a few hours later my phone rings. It’s Nick, but we had a real bad connection—static all over the line. He was whispering into the phone, too, so it was hard to make out what he said, but it sounded like he’d seen a body lying under the docks, and he thought it looked like Adrienne.”
    I sucked in a breath. “Oh my.”
    “Yep,” he continued. “Next thing I knew, the phone went dead. I hightailed it right down to the docks, but I didn’t see hide nor hair of Nick—or any bodies, either.”
    My brow lifted. “So then what makes you think they might be dead?”
    He licked at his lips. “Right before our connection was broken, I heard something—it could have been a car backfiring—or it could have been a gunshot. I’m still not sure.” He reached out and laid his hand over mine. “Listen, Nora, I don’t want to think the worst, but I knew Nick like a book, I worked with him for