Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

She crouched down next to me, not looking entirely happy. I could already tell what was going on before she opened her mouth.“Is there something you want to tell me?”

I nodded guiltily.“The mice,” I said quietly. “They were at it again last night.”

“This can’t go on like this, Max,” she said. “You have to do something. Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to take steps, and you know what that means, right?”

I nodded once more.“Traps,” I said, even more quietly than before.

“Humane traps, of course, but traps all the same.”

“I tried to talk to them,” I said. “But they’re not listening. They feel they’re actually doing us a favor.”

“By plundering the fridge and cupboards?”

“They feel their presence keeps the real pests out, like beetles and, um, roaches.”

Now that I was repeating the mouse’s words I could hear how lame it all sounded.

Odelia made a face.“Look, this has got to stop. So either you make them behave, or I’m going to have to get rid of them.”

“Where will you take them once you’ve caught them in your traps?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that. But far enough so they won’t come back.”

“They’re not going to like it,” I murmured.

“Well, too bad. No one believes me when I tell them I’m dealing with a mouse infestation. ‘Don’t you have four cats?’ they ask me. ‘Yes,’ I tell them. ‘Four cats and a mouse colony in my basement.’” She rubbed my back and I heaved another deep sigh.

See what I mean? Humans simply don’t understand that not all cats are natural-born killers. Some of us are more the peaceable kind. Still, she had a point. Something clearly needed to be done, and the onus was on me to come up with a plan of campaign.

A plan that involved making a colony of mice behave, not like squatters, but like perfectly decent house guests.

Talk about a tough proposition!

Chapter 3

As Odelia walked to work, putting some pep in her step, she thought about the look on Max’s face when she gently scolded him about the mouse issue. She felt sorry for her precious blorange feline, but she also felt strongly that it was his job to keep the house free of mice or, in case they decided to stay, to make them behave.

God had given her the rare gift of being able to talk to cats, but that gift unfortunately didn’t extend to other species of animals. Max, on the other hand, could talk to anyone, and so she’d relegated the task of disciplining the mice to his capable care.

She’d hate to have to put the mice out of the house, as she was a feeling young woman, and loved all creatures great or small. Still, she had to draw the line somewhere.

In her mind, she went over the tasks that lay ahead. Dan, her editor, had assigned her the unenviable task of covering the upcoming pigfest, where the biggest porker and its keeper would fetch a nice prize, and of course there was the summer ball to think about.

Dan himself had been engrossed in the Maria Power retrospective at the Seabreeze Music Center. Maria Power was one of Hampton Cove’s most famous residents, but also its most elusive one.

The world-renowned actress, now in her seventh decade, had been a star of the silver screen for decades, until her retirement ten years before, at which point she’d disappeared from the public eye. She steadfastly refused to be interviewed, even by Dan, one of her biggest fans and the head of one of the two fan clubs Hampton Cove boasted, but now that she was turning seventy, and Hampton Cove was the scene of an elaborate celebration of her illustrious movie career, Dan had been doing everything in his power to land that exclusive interview with the grande dame of American cinema.

Now that was the sort of article Odelia would have liked to write, instead of pigfest.

She arrived at the office and walked in. She passed Dan’s office and called out her usual morning greeting. When her greeting wasn’t returned with a hale and hearty ‘And a good morning to you, sunshine!’ she retraced her steps and glanced into his office. And that’s when she saw it. Or rather… her.

On the floor, in the middle of Dan’s office, the body of a woman lay spread-eagle.

Odelia swallowed, and squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she was seeing things. Spend enough time investigating murders and that kind of thing is bound to happen.

But as she opened her eyes again, the body was still there, lying prone on the floor, a halo of blond hair spread out around her head, a spot of crimson at the center of that glossy blond mane. Next to the woman, a garden gnome of sizable proportions lay.

Odelia felt nauseous for a moment, then took out her phone and called the police station switchboard.

Dolores picked up at the first ring.

“Dolores, it’s Odelia. You’re not going to believe this, but I just found a dead woman in Dan’s office.”

“Oh, I believe it, sweetheart,” Dolores rasped in her characteristic smoker’s voice. She sounded completely unfazed by this development. “I’ll send in the cavalry, shall I?”

Odelia nodded, her eyes transfixed on that awful spot of crimson. It was still glistening, which told her that whoever had murdered the woman had done so recently.

Just then, the outer door to the office opened and Dan walked in.“Someone yanked off my windshield wipers,” he grumbled. “Can you believe it? Vandalism, if you ask—” He halted when he came upon Odelia, standing over the dead woman. “What the…” he began, then exclaimed, “Oh, dear Lord!” when he took in the shocking scene.

“I called the police already,” said Odelia. “Do you know her?”

“She must be my eight thirty,” said Dan, his white beard waggling distractedly.

“Your eight thirty?”

“Yeah, some woman called me yesterday. Said she wanted to see me about something. So I told her to come in at eight thirty. If that’s her, she must have been early.”

“Who is she?”

“She said her name was Heather Gallop. That’s all I know.”

“So you stepped out before she came in, is that what you’re saying?”

“Uh-huh. I got a call just after eight that someone was vandalizing my car, so I hurried out to go check. And sure enough both windshield wipers had been yanked off.”

Odelia checked her phone. It was eight fifteen.“So whoever killed her must have done it in the past ten minutes, right after you walked out and just before I walked in.”

“You didn’t see anyone?” Dan was licking his lips, looking distinctly ill at ease.

“No, I didn’t see anyone,” she said, studying the editor closely. “Looks like they used a gnome as the murder weapon.”

The editor cursed under his breath.“I can’t believe they’d use Gnomeo.”

“Gnomeo?”

“Yeah, it’s named after Romeo and Juliet. A gnome played a big part in the movie.”

“You’re talking about Gnomeo and Juliet? The kids’ movie?”

“Not the kids’ movie. Maria Power’s film debut. She played Juliet and had long and animated conversations with a gnome, her constant companion.” He looked pained.

As he took a step into the room, Odelia stopped him at once.“Better not touch anything,” she advised him.

“No,” he said, startled. “No, of course.”

In spite of her long acquaintance with her boss, or maybe because of it, she couldn’t help but feel he was acting a little strangely. Then again, people all react differently to murder, and in spite of the fact that Dan had been the Hampton Cove Gazette’s editor for forty years, he’d probably never had a dead person lying in the middle of his office.

But before she could ask him any further questions, the door swung open and Chase walked in, followed by Odelia’s uncle Alec, who was also Hampton Cove’s chief of police.

“Holy crap,” was her uncle’s first reaction. “Now why did you go and do that for, Dan?”

“What?” said the editor. “I didn’t kill her, Alec!”

“Then what is she doing in your office, her head bashed in with your pet gnome?” asked Alec sternly.

“I had nothing to do with it, I swear!” said the editor, and somehow Odelia had the feeling Dan’s sufferings had only just begun.

Chapter 4

“But Vesta, what does a neighborhood watch actually DO?” asked Scarlett.

Scarlett Canyon was looking her usual outlandish self: short-short skirt, sexy top that revealed far too much of her provocative cleavage, and stiletto heels that would have given Vesta vertigo had she chosen to wear something similar, which she hadn’t. On the contrary, she was wearing her usual blue tracksuit and her sensible white sneakers.

There had been a time, not all that long ago, when the mere sight of Scarlett would have made Vesta’s blood pressure spike to dangerous heights, and made her break out into a stream of vituperative a gangster rapper could learn something from, but those days were over. She and Scarlett had reconciled, and had become, much to everyone’s surprise, close friends.

No one in Hampton Cove would have believed it possible for two women as different as these two to become friends, but there they were, standing in line at the pharmacy on Downing Street and not even pelting one another with pots of moisturizer or tubes of hemorrhoid cream the way they used to in the old days.

“Well, a neighborhood watch fights crime,” Vesta explained. “But most importantly they make people feel safe. Make them feel as if someone is watching out for them.”

“But… isn’t that what the police do?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that exactly the sort of thing we pay them for?”

“Now see, that’s the beauty of it. The police can only do so much, so while they focus on your real hardened criminals, we patrol the streets and watch out for the small stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like people not cleaning up after their dogs, or littering, or young punks spraying graffiti or keying cars. You know, stuff like that. Plus…” Her eyes glittered as she said this. “Being in a neighborhood watch gives you permission to do what we do best, darling.”

Scarlett’s face lit up, and her cat-like eyes flashed. “Flirting with the hot guys!”

“Even better. Snooping around!”

“I like to snoop,” said Scarlett, nodding and pursing her plumped-up lips. “In fact I live to snoop. Not in a bad way, though. Strictly in a good way.”

Though Scarlett didn’t define what a good way of snooping could possibly be, Vesta understood. She, too, felt that only a community where people looked out for one another was a community where life was worth living. And how else can you look out for one another if not by knowing all there is to know about everyone?

“Do we need some kind of permission to launch this neighborhood watch?” asked Scarlett.

“Yeah, you have to be registered with the local police, but I’m sure my son will arrange all of that.”

“It must be so easy to have a son who’s a cop,” said Scarlett admiringly.

“Sometimes,” said Vesta, “it is and sometimes it isn’t.”

The line had moved and it was Vesta’s turn. Rory Suds, the grizzled pharmacist who looked like a stick figure, eyed her expectantly. “Vesta? What can I do for you?”

“It’s not about what you can do for me, Rory,” she said, “but what I can do for you.” She gave him her most engaging smile, which made her cheeks hurt. She wasn’t used to smiling, and it didn’t exactly come natural. “Scarlett and I are launching Hampton Cove’s first neighborhood watch, and we’d like you to be one of our informers.”

Rory blinked.“Is that so?” he said cautiously.

“Yeah, that is so,” said Vesta, losing the smile. She liked to see nothing but excitement about her new endeavor, and the pharmacist’s guarded expression told her he was anything but excited. “Look, it’s pretty simple. If you see or hear anything that strikes you as odd, you tell us. We all want Hampton Cove to be a safe and pleasant place.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” said Rory, nodding as his eyes shifted between Vesta and Scarlett, as if unsure of what he was seeing and hearing right then. “So it’s true, then, is it?” he asked.

“What is true?” asked Vesta, massaging her cheeks and slightly displacing her dentures.

“You two are friends now?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” said Scarlett. “In fact Vesta and I are best friends.”

Rory grinned.“It’s just that… frankly I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, you saw the day,” Vesta snapped. “Now are you going to help us or not?”

Rory’s smile disappeared and he swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

As Vesta and Scarlett exited the pharmacy, Scarlett said,“That went well.”

“I was expecting more excitement,” Vesta grumbled. “He didn’t look excited.”

“Not everyone has a penchant for fighting crime,” said Scarlett. “They’re not all cut from the same cloth as you and me.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. So who’s next?”

Scarlett pointed in the direction of Main Street.“Wilbur Vickery. Nothing happens in this town that Wilbur doesn’t know about.”

“I swear to God, if he starts hemming and hawing I’m gonna smack him in the snoot.”

“Better not,” said Scarlett. “People don’t like it when you smack them in the snoot, even if you’re doing it for all the right reasons.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Vesta grumbled.

They passed the offices of the Gazette, and Vesta was surprised to see an ambulance parked out in front and a stretcher being carted in by two paramedics at a gallop. Immediately her attention was snagged. Galloping paramedics had that effect on her.

“Now what the hell is going on over here?” she asked.

“Let’s find out,” said Scarlett, as chipper as a newly self-appointed crime fighter could be.

“Hey, you!” Vesta yelled to the driver of the ambulance. “What’s going on?”

“Lady was killed,” he said, only too eager to spill the beans. Now that kind of behavior was what Vesta liked to see. Not Rory Suds’s annoying reticence. “Head bashed in with a garden gnome if you please,” the guy added with a wide smile. “Ain’t that something?”

“Head bashed in with a garden gnome?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t that the kind of thing the neighborhood watch should get involved with?”

“Nah, we don’t do murder and mayhem. That’s for my son and granddaughter.”

They both watched as Alec and Odelia walked out, along with Chase Kingsley. The three of them looked appropriately concerned, and when finally Dan Goory joined them on the sidewalk, it was obvious something had rattled the editor to the bones. He looked even more gaunt than usual, and his face had taken on the same pallor as his beard.

“What happened?” asked Vesta, unable to restrain herself. She might only be in the habit of fighting the softer types of crime, but couldn’t resist finding out about the tougher stuff as well.

“Yeah, what happened?” asked Scarlett, tripping up on her high heels. “As neighborhood watchers we have a right to know what’s going on in our town.”

“A woman was murdered,” said Odelia. “And that’s pretty much all we know right now.”

“So you don’t know anything,” Vesta said. “You disappoint me, honey.”

The paramedics came galloping out again, this time carrying the victim on their stretcher. Vesta caught a glimpse of some hot young blonde, looking decidedly dead.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” asked Alec a little gruffly. “Like at the doctor’s office?”

Vesta made a dismissive gesture of the hand.“Tex doesn’t need me. Besides, making sure Hampton Cove is crime-free is more important than playing receptionist. So do you want my professional opinion?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to give it anyway,” said Alec with a sigh.

“Crime of passion,” said Vesta, gesturing with her head to Dan, who stood talking into his phone now, presumably to secure himself a good lawyer.

“What are you talking about?” asked Odelia.

“Old guy like Dan and a hot young bimbo like that? She probably dropped by the office to tell him she was finished with him on account of the fact that she found someone better than that old fart.”

“A young fart,” Scarlett added, nodding.

“So Dan flew into a rage and whacked her over the head with his gnome. End of story. Lean on him hard enough and I’m sure he’ll confess. Now if there’s nothing else, we’ve got people to see and crime to fight so adios.”

And with these words, she and Scarlett took off.

“Are you sure Dan killed her?” asked Scarlett.

“Of course. Old guys like Dan fly off the handle when they get dumped. Can’t take the rejection. If I’ve seen it happen once I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

“Oh, sure,” said Scarlett, nodding. “Remember that time I dumped Leo’s ass? His face got all red and splotchy and for a moment there I thought he was gonna have a stroke.”

“You dated Leo?”

“I thought you knew. Why? You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“No need to be jealous, sweetie. I only dated him to spite you. But that’s all in the past now.”

“All in the past,” Vesta echoed.

“I’m so glad we’re friends again. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, though sometimes she wished Scarlett was a little less… Scarlett.

Chapter 5

Dooley was seriously worried about his best friend Max. Max had been behaving strangely all morning. For one thing, he wasn’t his usual self. Perhaps it was too much to say that Max was a cheerful cat, but he wasn’t uncheerful either. Dooley thought Max was probably semi-cheerful. But all that morning Max had been looking distinctly down.

He claimed it was because of the mice. That he didn’t know what to do about them. But Hector and Helga and their little ones had been there for weeks, and during all this time Max hadn’t been particularly worried. He was worried now, though. Very worried.

And so Dooley was worried, too.

Dooley loved his friend. He figured he was the luckiest cat in the world for having a friend like Max. Honorable, wise, very smart and very brave, and extremely kind, too.

And as he and Max ambled along the sidewalk heading into town as they did most mornings, to talk to their friends and snoop around, Dooley couldn’t help but think that Max was hiding something.

It had to be cancer. It simply had to be.

Max was sick and dying, and being the wonderful friend that he was he didn’t want Dooley to worry.

Oh, no, Dooley thought as tears formed in his eyes at the thought of losing his best friend. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

He decided to launch another joke. It was important now to make his friend laugh. To make him laugh and laugh and laugh until he was feeling much, much better, and that nasty cancer was simply driven out of his body and replaced with good, healthy cells.

“Did you hear the one about the one-armed sailor who took a job as a window cleaner?” he asked now, arranging his features into an expression of jollity, designed to inspire happiness and laughter in his friend.

“No, I haven’t,” said Max, a little grumpily.

“Well, he didn’t get the job.” He waited for Max’s pleasant laugh to ring out, and when it didn’t come, he decided to set the example and produced the kind of laugh a hyena would approve of.

Max frowned and said,“I don’t get it.”

Oh, dear. Clearly Dooley had to up his game. Come up with better material.

“Um…” he said, thinking hard. “A priest, a rabbi and an assface walk into a bar. And the assface says to the priest, ‘Have we met before?’ And the priest says, ‘No, I don’t think so. I’d remember a face like yours.’”

He waited for Max to laugh uproariously, but nothing came. Not even a chuckle or a chortle. So once again he decided to show his friend how it was done and guffawed loudly and with solid conviction.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, Dooley,” finally said Max, after giving him a curious look—exactly the kind of look a doctor would give a patient before having him admitted to Bellevue, Dooley imagined. “But your jokes need work. A lot of work.”

“What kind of work, Max?” he asked. Your up-and-coming comedian likes to take these little criticisms on board.

“Well, for one thing your jokes aren’t funny.”

“Mh,” Dooley said, nodding. “I see your point,” he said, filing Max’s comment away for later use.

“What’s going on over there?” asked Max now, and gestured to the offices of the Hampton Cove Gazette. It was where Odelia worked, and a very nice office it was, too. With a very nice boss named Dan Goory. He looked like Santa Claus, only without the pleasant rotundity. Or the red-cheeked cheerful face. Or the bag of presents and the use of a stable of reindeer. On second thought Dan didn’t look much like Santa Claus at all.

Dooley looked over to where Max was pointing. Odelia was there, and so was her uncle and her boyfriend Chase. And when Dooley saw the ambulance, his heart skipped a beat. Or two.

“Oh, no! An ambulance! Maybe Dan died!”

“Dan didn’t die,” said Max. “He’s standing right there, talking to Uncle Alec.”

“Oh, so he is,” said Dooley, much relieved. He quickly checked off the names of potential victims in his head and came to the reassuring conclusion that all the people he loved and cared for were alive and accounted for. Which begged the question: “So who died?”

“Let’s go and find out,” Max said, and they headed on over to dig deeper into the mystery of the ambulance standing in front of Odelia’s workplace.

“What happened?” asked Max as they sidled up to Odelia.

Odelia looked left and right—she didn’t like to be seen talking to her cats for some reason—and said, “According to Dan the victim’s name is Heather Gallop. She contacted him yesterday and made an appointment. And then afterward she sent him a one-word text that read, ‘Gnomeo,’ so Dan thinks it’s got somethingto do with Maria Power.”

“Who’s Maria Power?” asked Dooley immediately. He’d discovered that when he didn’t ask questions immediately he often forgot to ask them later, so better do it now.

“She’s a famous movie actress from the seventies and eighties who lives in Hampton Cove. Dan is a big fan. He’s also the president of the official Maria Power Fan Club.”

“So this Heather Gallop is dead?” asked Max, getting to the heart of the matter as usual.

“I’m afraid so,” said Odelia.

“How did she die?” asked Dooley. He darted a worried glance at his friend. “Was it cancer?”

“She was hit over the head with a garden gnome,” said Odelia.

“Murder,” said Max, nodding.

“Murder!” Dooley cried. “In your office!”

“Dan’s office, actually,” said Odelia.

“Did Dan have something to do with it?” asked Max.

“If so he’s not admitting it,” said Odelia, and rose from her crouch to rejoin the conversation between her uncle, Chase, and Dan. The latter didn’t look happy, which was understandable. If someone murders one of your visitors with a garden gnome, it probably comes as something of a shock. Plus it might scare away future visitors.

“Let’s go inside and have a look,” Max suggested, and padded into the Gazette building and then straight into Dan’s office.

There wasn’t all that much to see, as the body had already been removed, probably by those nice people that drove that big shiny ambulance with the flashing lights. People dressed in white were combing the office for traces of things murderers sometimes like to leave behind, whether they want to or not, and the county coroner, a thickset man named Abe Cornwall, was muttering something to himself as he studied the room.

Max paused in front of a glass display case in a corner of Dan’s office and Dooley joined him.

“What are you looking for, Max?”

“Gnomes,” said Max.

“Gnomes?” asked Dooley, wondering if the tumor that Max was suffering from was one of those brain tumors. He’d seen a documentary on the Discovery Channel about brain tumors, and they sometimes did very strange things to people’s brains. It kinda displaced them, squished them so hard they stopped working like they should.

“Looks like Tex isn’t the only one who collects the horrible things,” Max remarked.

Dooley followed his gaze, and saw to his relief that the display case was filled with gnomes. So the gnomes were real, and not merely a figment of Max’s diseased brain.

In the same display case a collection of pictures had been placed, all of them depicting the same woman.

“Maria Power,” said Max, masterfully reading Dooley’s mind before he’d even uttered a single word. It just goes to show how Max and Dooley were attuned. How their minds worked as one mind. Though of course minus the brain tumor in Dooley’s case.

“I wonder what the connection between these gnomes and this Maria Power is,” said Dooley.

“It says right there in that framed article,” Max pointed out.

And indeed he was right again. The title of the yellowed newspaper article—possibly from Dan’s very own newspaper—was ‘Gnomeo and Maria: a most lovely pairing.’

“Gnomeo and Maria,” said Dooley, then got the joke and laughed heartily. “It’s just like Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it, Max?”

“Yes, it is,” said Max, displaying a slight smile of amusement. “It seems like today gnomes keep popping up wherever we go.”

With the swiftness of motion that was his hallmark, in spite of his size, Max turned on his heel and made for the door, Dooley right on his tail.

“Do you think Odelia is going to ask us to assist her in cracking the case?” he asked.

“Pretty sure she will,” said Max. He turned and smiled. “Doesn’t she always?”

To see that smile on his friend’s face warmed Dooley’s heart to such an extent he had to wipe away a tear. Max might be dying of cancer, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Maybe a good murder case was exactly what he needed to lift his spirits.

Even if it was his last one…

Chapter 6

As Dooley and I walked out of Dan’s office, I couldn’t help but pick up a very distinct but pleasant scent. It clearly belonged to a human and it wasn’t Dan or Odelia’s. I figured it might belong to one of Dan’s frequent visitors, or one of those strange people dressed all in white going over the crime scene with a fine-tooth comb.

But then, just as we were leaving, I noticed a second glass display case. This, too, was dedicated to Maria Power, and contained a plastic mannequin dressed in a very nice green silk dress with sequined bodice. At the foot of the mannequin a picture had been placed showing the real Maria Power wearing that self-same dress.

I studied the picture for a moment, and saw she was a very handsome woman indeed.

She had those high cheekbones some men go all gaga over, shiny auburn tresses, a wide mouth and remarkable green eyes. She was smiling in the picture, and judging from the background had every reason to: I could see palm trees, a nice beach, and those clear azure waters you find in your better-quality beach resorts.

And as I took another sniff I finally decided the distinct scent had to come from the dress. And it was with a little sigh that I left the office. Humans sometimes smell very nice indeed.

“So who do you think did it, Max?” asked Dooley as we were once again walking along the sidewalk.

“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said. “Which is why I suggest we tap all of our usual sources and do it quickly, too.”

“Why quickly?”

“Because I have a feeling Odelia’s boss is in big trouble.” I’d picked up a few snatches of the conversation between Uncle Alec, Chase and Dan, and it seemed to me that the police officers had already decided who the killer was and were now only waiting for the results of the forensic investigation to strike.

We’d arrived at Wilbur Vickery’s General Store, and I saw that our friend Kingman was already in pole position to spy on the fine female felines that prance up and down Main Street on any given day.

“Hey, Kingman,” I said by way of greeting, but he was momentarily distracted by a strikingly handsome Persian sashaying past the store and giving Kingman the eye.

“A woman has been murdered,” Dooley said, clearly taking my advice about moving quickly to heart. “And Max thinks that Uncle Alec thinks that Dan did it.”

“Mh?” said Kingman, finally becoming aware of our presence. “Oh, hiya, fellas. What was that about a murder?”

“A woman has been found murdered in Dan’s office,” I explained. “And we were wondering if you heard something.”

He frowned, dragging his mind out of the gutter.“Um…”

“It happened just now,” I said. “So chances are slim you would have heard anything, but just in case you have…” I raised a questioning eyebrow, signaling to my friend how important this case was.

Indeed if Dan was charged with murder it would effectively mean the end of the Gazette, and Odelia’s job. It was perhaps a little selfish of me to think along these terms but there you have it. No job for Odelia also meant no more money coming in, and no money meant no food for me, unless Odelia’s parents jumped in to give her some much-needed financial support—and Chase, of course. Though I doubted whether a policeman’s salary would allow for the kind of lifestyle to which we’d become accustomed.

“What’s going on?” asked Buster, who was passing by.

“A woman was murdered in Dan Goory’s office,” Kingman explained. “And Max is wondering if I’d heard something, which I’m afraid to say I haven’t.”

Buster frowned. He’s a Main Coon belonging to Fido Siniawski, the barber, and as such a valuable source of information for Dooley and me—and by extension Odelia.

“When was this?” asked Buster.

“Just now,” I said. “Maybe half an hour ago or so?”

“I did see a UPS guy head into the Gazette,” said Buster. “And just before that I saw Dan hurry out, looking rattled. He had a big frown on his face and was talking to himself.”

“So Dan walked out as the UPS guy walked in?” I asked, making sure I got the sequence of events just right. “So did they meet?”

“Nah. Dan walked out and then the UPS guy walked in. I have to admit I didn’t see him walk out again. Missy came in with Garvin and I got distracted. I did see your Odelia walk in, though, and then later the shit hit the fan: ambulance, police—the works.”

“So who was the woman that died?” asked Kingman.

“A Heather Gallop,” I said. “One of Dan’s visitors. She called him yesterday and told him she wanted to meet. She also sent him a text with the word ‘Gnomeo.’”

“Probably some kind of code,” said Buster with a grin.

“Code for what?” I asked.

Kingman and Buster shared a look. Clearly their minds were now both in the gutter.

“Naughty Dan,” said Kingman, proving that my assessment was right on the money. “First hanky-panky and then murder. And all this during office hours, huh? What a guy.”

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” I said, but I had a feeling my words fell on deaf ears. Soon the story would do the rounds that Dan had accidentally murdered his lady friend in some kind of sordid sex game gone terribly wrong. And it had involved a gnome.

“I wonder what he did with the gnome,” said Buster, sniggering delightedly.

“Or maybe it was her that handled the gnome,” said Kingman, snickering uncontrollably.

“Sticking it where it didn’t belong,” said Buster.

“Until he’d had enough and knocked her over the head with it.”

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” I said sternly.

“Yes, it is!” said Kingman, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’ve heard of a lot of things, but a garden gnome? Never!”

“Humans,” said Buster, shaking his head. “They never cease to amaze.”

“Endless source of entertainment,” Kingman agreed.

And as Buster and Kingman discussed the logistics of hanky-panky with the assistance of a garden gnome, I decided it was time for Dooley and me to take our leave.

“So we probably have to find the UPS guy, don’t we?” asked Dooley.

“Yes, we do,” I said. “He might be able to tell us if the victim was still alive when Dan left the building. And if she was dead already…”

I didn’t finish the sentence, as the prospect of Dan being locked up for murder was too horrible to contemplate.

Chapter 7

Harriet was sniffing around the backyard. She and Brutus had officially been recruited to join Gran’s neighborhood watch and she was a cat who took her responsibilities seriously.

“Anything?” asked Brutus.

“Nothing so far,” she said sadly.

Even though she possessed a keen sense of smell, and had hoped to pick up the trail of the culprit or culprits who’d dared invade the sanctity of Tex and Marge’s backyard and abscond with Tex’s treasured gnomes, so far she hadn’t picked upthe scent yet.

“Maybe we should call in the dogs,” she suggested with a sigh. It was hard for her to admit, but it was true that dogs’ sense of smell was even better than cats’. And since Ted and Marcie next door had recently gotten a dog, it would be a cinch to enlist Rufus, who was a large and fluffy sheepdog.

“A dog?” Brutus cried. “Never!”

“But sweetie pie, dogs do have a superior sense of smell.”

“No, they don’t,” said Brutus. “Our sense of smell is just as good as Rufus’s, no doubt about it.”

“If you say so,” said Harriet with a sigh. That was the trouble with men: oftentimes ego trumped common sense, and when it did, it hindered rather than aided in their investigations.

“Did I hear my name?” suddenly asked a voice from across the fence.

Harriet smiled and trotted over. There was a small hole through which she could see Rufus’s friendly face. Even though she’d never been a big fan of dogs—most cats aren’t, and for good reason, too—she’d come to like and appreciate Rufus, who was one of those big kind-hearted dogs. The proverbial gentle giant.

“Hey, Rufus,” she said. “Maybe you can help us out here.” She ignored Brutus’s hissed, ‘Don’t!’ and proceeded to explain the situation to the big dog.

Rufus’s eyes narrowed as he took this in. “So you’re saying someone stole Tex’s garden gnomes last night? But that’s terrible! Who would do such a thing?!”

“He’s not happy about it. Tex loves those gnomes and he’s pretty upset.”

“I can only imagine,” said Rufus, nodding. “So how many gnomes were stolen?”

“All of them,” said Harriet. “And he must have had a dozen.”

She had no idea how it was even possible to love a garden gnome, of all things, but she’d long ago stopped being surprised about the strange and curious behavior of humans. How anyone could collect terra cotta lawn ornament figurines was frankly beyond her, but obviously plenty of people did, or else they wouldn’t have been stolen.

“Hey, Brutus,” said Rufus good-naturedly.

“Grmbl,” Brutus said in return, which elicited an eye roll from Harriet.

“You’ll have to forgive Brutus,” said Harriet. “He got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So to speak.”

“Ha ha,” said Rufus at this quaint conceit. Then he frowned. “You guys have your own beds now?”

“It’s just a manner of speech,” Harriet said. “We usually sleep at the foot of our human’s bed.”

“Oh, nice,” said Rufus. “I sleep at the foot of the bed, too, though sometimes my humans kick me off. They say I’m too big to sleep there, but I don’t think so.”

Harriet could only imagine how much acreage the big dog would occupy, and mentally commended Ted and Marcie for their tolerance.“So you didn’t see anything last night?” she asked, returning to the topic under discussion.

“No, I’m sorry to say I didn’t,” said Rufus ruefully.

“Thought so,” Brutus grumbled.

“Maybe if you could sniff around you might be able to pick up the thieves’ scent?” Harriet suggested.

“Harriet!” Brutus cried, then added between clenched teeth, “We can’t allow dogs in OUR backyard!”

“Oh, I’d love to,” said Rufus, ignoring Brutus’s outburst, which he must have picked up loud and clear. Dogs not only have a superior sense of smell, their hearing is pretty solid, too. “Just give me a mo,” the big dog said, and as Harriet stood back, Rufus effortlessly jumped on top ofthe garden table, then on top of the fence, and straight into their backyard, much to Brutus’s horror.

“You’re not using my litter box!” the cat yelled.

“Oh, don’t worry, Brutus,” said Rufus with a pleasant smile. “I won’t.”

There had been a time when all the neighborhood dogs had started using cats’ litter boxes, but luckily that folly had been short-lived. Now they did their doo-doo on the sidewalk again, as before, with their humans picking up after them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still preferable to having to share a litter box with every deserving canine.

“So let’s do this,” Rufus muttered, and began to sniff around to his heart’s content.

“I swear, if he so much as lifts his hind leg and pees…” Brutus said under his breath.

“Oh, don’t be such a grinch, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Rufus is helping us out, so you should be nice to him.”

“Grmbl,” was Brutus’s response.

“So weird,” said Rufus after having sniffed his way all around the backyard and returning to where Brutus and Harriet sat near the fence.

“What is?” she asked.

“Well, I’m picking up the same scent that I’ve been picking up in my own backyard the last couple of days. And I’ve been wondering where it comes from. I don’t recognize it as belonging to either Ted or Marcie or any of their friends. So it must be a stranger.”

“You mean someone’s been in your backyard, too?” asked Brutus, momentarily forgetting his antipathy at this startling revelation.

“Yeah, two distinct scents belonging to two distinct individuals. I picked them up for the first time about a week ago, and now again here.”

“These must be the thieves,” said Harriet slowly. “They must have passed through the Trappers’ backyard before jumping the fence and coming here to steal the gnomes.”

“But why?” asked Rufus. “They could easily have come in through the field.”

They all stared at the field in question, which was located behind both their backyards and Odelia’s, too. It was a piece of land covered in brambles and overgrown weeds and nettles, and provided the perfect access and egress into all of their backyards.

“Nothing was stolen from your place?” asked Brutus, taking the case in paw.

“Nothing as far as I know,” said Rufus.

“Weird,” said Harriet. “Very weird.”

“Say, listen,” said Brutus, clearing his throat. “Um… you’ve got a pretty solid sense of smell on you, right?”

“I can’t complain,” said Rufus with a smile.

“Well, um… well, see, the thing is, Gran and her friend are launching a neighborhood watch. And so I was wondering…” He coughed nervously. “See, the thing is… we could use someone like you on our team.”

Harriet smiled. It surprised her that her dog-hating mate would suddenly display such a change of heart, but it most definitely pleased her.“Great idea, snuggle bug,” she said. “Brutus is right, Rufus,” she added. “We could use a dog like you on our team.”

“Neighborhood watch, eh?” said Rufus, giving this some thought. “Well, why not,” he said finally. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop dog, and this is probably as close as I’ll get.”

Brutus grinned, and so did Harriet. This was great news. Cats and dogs, fighting crime together as a team. Which reminded her of another idea that had hit her shortly after Max and Dooley had set out for their morning stroll.

“Say, Rufus, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Shoot,” said the amiable dog.

“The thing is, you know that Odelia has mice, right?”

“Yeah, you guys told me about that.”

“Well, they’re making an awful mess of the house, and Odelia is fed up and frankly so are we. So I was wondering… Could you drop by one of these days and have a word with them? They don’t seem to respect cats, but maybe they do dogs. Especially as you’re so big and strong and all?”

Rufus grew a few inches as she spoke, and she could have sworn he was blushing.“No, of course,” he said. “If you think it’ll make a difference I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Great,” she said, well pleased. “That’s settled then.”

After Rufus had returned to his own backyard, Brutus turned to her and said, a slight hint of suspicion in his voice,“Why did you ask Rufus to take care of the mice? I thought Odelia had asked Max to deal with them?”

“It’s obvious Max can’t cope, wuggle bear,” she said. “And neither can Dooley. So I thought maybe we should lend them a helping paw. After all, that’s our house, too.”

Brutus didn’t seem to agree. “I still think asking a dog to do a cat’s job is simply wrong. Besides, we’re going to owe him big time. And I hate to be indebted to a dog.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prig, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Dogs are God’s creatures, too, you know. And Rufus is a nice dog, as dogs go.”

“He is nice,” Brutus agreed, then gave her a curious look. “Maybe a little too nice.”

She stared at her mate, then broke into an incredulous bark of laughter.“Brutus, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said gruffly, staring at the ground.

“You are! I don’t believe this. Jealous of a dog!”

Brutus shrugged.“So what if I’m jealous? Clearly that dog likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that, you fool!” she cried, but felt touched by Brutus’s behavior. So she planted a gentle kiss on his brow, which was puckered with worry. “Oh, sugar plum,” she said. “I only love you, you foolish tomcat. Don’t you know that by now?”

“I guess sometimes I don’t,” he murmured.

“Here, look at me,” she said, and tilted his head. “You’re the only one for me, cuddle cakes.”

He smiled then, and they kissed.

Chapter 8

Marge was leafing through a Jackie Collins book, to see if there weren’t any pages ripped out or remnants of food left when old Mrs. Samson walked into the library, carrying her usual shopping bag full of books.

Mrs. Samson was a little old lady and one of Marge’s regulars. She came in almost weekly, and judging by the number of books she read probably did little else but read.

“All finished already, Mrs. Samson?” asked Marge pleasantly.

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Samson, twin blushes on her cheeks as usual. She preferred to read the saucy romance novels—in fact the saucier the better. “Anything new?”

“I put a couple of books aside for you that I think you might like.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Mrs. Samson, and followed Marge to the counter.

Marge dove underneath her desk and brought out a nice pile of books she hoped would satisfy her customer’s voracious reading appetite.

Mrs. Samson picked up the first book and studied the bare-chested male on the cover. Her blush deepened.“Now doesn’t this look nice,” she murmured. “Is it very steamy?”

“As steamy as it gets,” said Marge with a smile. She was well aware of the woman’s predilection by now, and since she always feared she’d run out of books for the old lady to read kept stocking up on the more steamy segment as much as her budget allowed.

“Thanks, Marge,” said Mrs. Samson, displaying a toothy grin. Then she placed her bag on the counter and Marge proceeded to scan the books while Mrs. Samson disappeared between the rows of bookcases in search of more reading material.

And as Marge placed the books Mrs. Samson had checked in on the book cart, her mind returned to the topic that had been engaging her for the last couple of weeks: her daughter’s upcoming nuptials.

The topic had created a certain amount of tension between mother and daughter. Marge wanted to organize a big wedding for her only child, while Odelia herself, and her future husband, wanted to keep things small. They only wanted to invite a couple of friends and their nearest relatives and have them all over for dinner at the house.

At the house! Marge had already explained to Odelia how they couldn’t possibly all fit, but her daughter insisted they could, at least the number of people she had in mind.

Marge, on the other hand, wanted to do things in style and hire a wedding planner and book a nice venue. Though how they were going to get a good place this late in the proceedings was beyond her. She’d advised Odelia and Chase to put the wedding off until the spring, or even the summer, and take their time to do things properly.

Odelia wouldn’t hear of it, though, and said she’d always dreamed of a small affair with only her nearest and dearest.

And while Marge could see where she was coming from, she insisted they needed to involve the town. She hoped and prayed that Odelia would only marry once, and she wanted to make it a day to remember. If they did things Odelia’s way she feared her daughter might regret it later, and Marge wanted to avoid that at all cost. Well, not at all cost, necessarily, but still. She’d talked it over with Tex and they were prepared to pay for the whole thing. It had created another point of contention, as Odelia didn’t want to hear of it. She and Chase were going to pay and no one else.

Marge sighed as she placed a book on wedding etiquette on the cart and started pushing it in the direction of the racks of books. And she’d just started replacing the books in their designated spots when the library doors swung open and Vesta and Scarlett walked in.

Even though Marge had welcomed the fact that her mother had reconciled with her friend, sometimes she wondered if this newfound friendship wasn’t actually a bad thing. Vesta by herself could do a lot of damage, and now that she’d found herself a partner in crime things could be exponentially worse.

“Marge!” Vesta yelled. “Marge, show yourself. Oh, there you are. Trouble in paradise, honey. It looks as if Dan killed some woman—probably his secret girlfriend. And you know what that means, don’t you? Doom and gloom.”

“What?” Marge cried, as she almost dropped a copy of Miss Marple’s complete short stories. “What are you talking about?”

“A woman was found murdered in Dan’s office,” Scarlett explained with visible glee. “And your brother seems to think that Dan did it.”

“Yeah, and if Dan is sent up the river that’s the end of the Gazette I would think, which means your daughter will be unemployed.”

“And with her wedding coming up the timing couldn’t possibly be worse,” concluded Scarlett with relish. “She’ll be out of a job, without a paycheck, and will have to postpone the wedding. Terrible, terrible news.”

“The worst,” Vesta agreed.

“Oh, God,” said Marge, sinking down onto the cart and upending a stack of books about women doing naughty things with wolves. “I don’t believe this. Dan? A murderer?”

“I always thought there was something fishy about that man,” said Vesta. “Haven’t I told you there was something fishy about that man, Scarlett?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Marge, bringing a weary hand to her brow, which was now bedewed with nervous sweat. The word picture her mother had painted was not a pretty one.

“Which means Odelia has been working for a killer all this time,” Vesta continued her tidings of doom. “It’s a miracle he never killed her.”

“Probably a liaison that ended badly,” Scarlett opined. “You know what old men are like. She probably came to end things, and he took it badly so he bashed her head in.”

“He bashed her head in!” Marge cried, upending another stack of books featuring women doing naughty things with vampires.

“With a garden gnome,” said Vesta, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Not one of Tex’s garden gnomes,” said Marge, horrified at the implication.

Vesta shrugged.“Only time will tell. But it wouldn’t surprise me. Dan probably plundered Tex’s collection of gnomes last night, and this morning used one to murder his girlfriend.”

“But why?” Marge cried.

“Because he’s a murderous brute, that’s why,” said Scarlett. “These people don’t need a reason to do what they do. It’s in their blood.”

“Not Dan Goory. We’ve known Dan for years.”

“Which just goes to show you can never tell,” said Vesta with satisfaction. “I’m sorry about the wedding.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad about the wedding,” Scarlett agreed, though she didn’t look disappointed at all, and neither did Vesta.

“Well, I can’t stand around here yapping all day,” said Vesta. “Let’s get out of here, Scarlett.”

“Where are you going?” asked Marge, still recovering from the shock.

“Now more than ever it’s important we get this neighborhood watch up and running,” said Vesta.

“Make sure this kind of thing never happens again,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Killers like Dan Goory should be stopped in their tracks. And we’re going to make sure they are—isn’t that right?”

“Damn skippy,” Scarlett agreed.

Marge watched both ladies walk off. Next to her, Mrs. Samson had appeared and had stooped down to pick up one of the books Marge had dropped. It was a book with a bare-chested man on the cover with fangs and drops of blood on his six-pack.“This looks nice,” she murmured, and dropped it into her basket. She then glanced up at Marge. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, and shook her head, little white curls dangling gently as she did. “I don’t believe for one minute that Dan is a murderer. Not one minute.” And with a sweet smile she patted Marge on the arm. “You hang in there, sweetie. Your daughter is a lot smarter than your mother. She’ll find the killer—just you wait and see.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Samson,” said Marge, touched by the woman’s words.

The old lady’s smile widened. “Mark my words, your daughter’s wedding to that hot young cop will go off without a hitch. And before you know it they’ll be at it like bunnies, making you, my dear Marge, a very young granny indeed.”

It was with mixed emotions that Marge checked out Mrs. Samson’s latest haul. The prospect of Odelia and Chase’s wedding going off without a hitch was a pleasant one—the thought of becoming a ‘young granny’ a lot less!

Chapter 9

The investigation was picking up pace and Dooley and I were in the thick of it as usual. After talking to Kingman and Buster we’d returned to the Gazette in the hope of finding Odelia there. As I’d surmised she was engaged in conversation with Chase inside, in her own office, devising a plan of campaign. So when I told her about the UPS guy she actually picked me up (with some effort, I might add) and planted a kiss onmy head!

“That’s great news, Max,” she said. She immediately related my words to Chase, who nodded. He was in full detective mode now, judging from the stony look on his face.

“We have to find this UPS guy,” said the cop. “Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us more about what happened.”

“One thing’s for sure. Heather Gallop’s visit to Dan is connected to Maria Power.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The message she sent Dan. Gnomeo?”

“Could have been related to the Gazette.”

“According to Dan, Gnomeo refers to a movie starring Maria Power that has been lost for years.”

“A lost movie!” Dooley cried. “So romantic!”

“Yes, it is,” said Odelia with a smile. “So Maria Power’s very first movie, back when she was a complete unknown, was also the last movie made by Rupert Finkelstein.”

“I think I’ve heard of him,” said Chase, his brow creasing as he searched his memory.

“Rupert Finkelstein was the most successful and famous director of his time. He made half a dozen movies that are considered masterpieces today. But when he made a version of Romeo and Juliet, a whimsical farce, the movie ended up costing so much money the studio fired him from his own production. In retaliation Rupert quit the business, but not before destroying every last copy of the movie.”

“So the first movie of Maria Power never came out?”

“No. But the studio rumor mill had it that Maria’s performance was the best thing about the whole project, and soon her name was on everyone’s tongue, Hollywood’s hottest new property. Her career really took off then, and she was in hit after hit.”

“All based on a movie that no one ever saw.”

Odelia nodded, and chewed her bottom lip.“Dan thinks that maybe this mystery guest, this Heather Gallop, was going to offer him a copy of the movie—hence the message.”

“So… Gnomeo refers to this mystery movie?”

“Yeah. Maria’s character spends a lot of time talking to a gnome.” When Chase crooked an eyebrow she shrugged. “I told you it was a whimsical farce.”

“More like a whimsical flop if you ask me. No wonder the studio shut it down.”

“So Dan thinks Heather Gallop had a copy of the movie?” I asked.

“But I thought the movie doesn’t exist?” asked Dooley.

“If it does exist, it’s probably worth a great deal of money,” said Chase.

“Oh, it’ll be priceless,” said Odelia. “Absolutely priceless.”

“How can something be priceless, Max?” asked Dooley. “Doesn’t everything have a price?”

“Some things are so valuable it’s impossible to put a price on them,” I explained.

“But why come to Dan?” asked Chase. “Because of the Gazette?”

“No, because of the Gnomeos,” said Odelia, and laughed when Chase made a face.

“What are the Gnomeos, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I have no idea,” I said. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

“The Gnomeos is what the members of the official Maria Power Fan Club call themselves,” Odelia explained. “There is a second fan club, though, run by a man named Jack Warner: the Maria Power Society. But Dan is founder and chairman of the first one, the original. And in his capacity as club leader he’s in charge of the Maria Power retrospective, organizes exhibitions dedicated to her life and career, publishes a monthly club newsletter and much, much more. It’s one of his biggest passions in life.”

“So if our mystery woman had a copy of this lost movie in her possession somehow…” said Chase slowly.

“She would take it to Dan in his capacity as leading expert on all things Maria Power,” said Odelia, nodding.

Chase’s phone rang out the A-Team tune and he picked up, walking into the corridor.

“Do you think Dan is a killer?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” said Odelia. “Dan is one of the kindest people I know. He’s not a killer.”

“Did you find this Gnomeo movie on Heather Gallop’s person?”

“Nope. And neither did we find her phone, which I think is very suspicious.”

I nodded. Odelia was right. What person doesn’t take their phone nowadays? For most people the tiny gadget is practically glued to their hands. “Is it possible that the killer phoned Dan to lure him away and then entered the building and struck?”

Odelia smiled.“Exactly what I was thinking.” Her smile disappeared. “Though my uncle doesn’t seem to agree with me. He seems to think Dan is Heather’s killer.”

“Your uncle has been known to be wrong before,” I pointed out.

Chase had returned and said,“They found the victim’s hotel room. She was staying at the Star.”

It was our cue to hurry out of Odelia’s office and head over to the Hampton Cove Star, the town’s premium hotel. Odelia and Chase hurried over, with Dooley and I following at a slower pace.

“A priest, a rabbi and a woolly mammoth walk into a bar,” said Dooley, and I eyed him strangely.

“Dooley, what’s with you and these lame jokes?” I asked.

“Do you really think my jokes are lame?” he asked, looking a little hurt.

“Well, they’re definitely not funny.”

“Oh, but Max, you have to laugh. It’s very important. Maybe we shouldn’t even be involved in this murder case. Murder is not a laughing matter, and you should be laughing, laughing, laughing!”

Now I like to laugh as much as the next cat, don’t get me wrong, but this obsession with jokes that Dooley was displaying frankly struck me as unhealthy.

“Look, if you want to laugh, Dooley, maybe we can watch a funny movie tonight. I’m sure Odelia and Chase would love nothing more than to sit down after a long day and watch something funny.” Because in that respect Dooley was right, of course: murder is not a funny business.

“Oh, that would be so great,” said Dooley, cheering up considerably. “We could watch funny movies every day from now on. It’s very important.”

We’d arrived at the hotel, and walked in. A police car was parked right in front, and all we had to do was follow Abe Cornwall into the elevator to be taken to the right place.

Abe, whose hair was pointing in every direction as usual, eyed us with amusement.“Why is it that wherever Odelia is, you guys are hanging out there, too?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question, I presumed, for Abe doesn’t exactly speak our language.

The elevator jerked to a stop and we got out. Abe heaved a weary sigh.“You know, this murder business is getting old,” he said, even though I assumed he didn’t think we’d understand. “Why do people insist on killing each other? Why can’t they just get along?”

“You’re absolutely right,” I responded. “It is getting old.”

My words made the coroner look down at me in wonder. Then he laughed.“For a moment there I thought you knew what I was talking about!”

And shaking his grizzled head he walked into a room whose door was open, and where plenty of people were milling about. And the moment I entered there was that pervasive scent again: the one that was also in Dan’s office. And it only took me a moment to know why: on the little desk, a nice collection of garden gnomes had been placed, and behind them a large, signed and framed picture of Maria Power.

Chapter 10

Odelia glanced around the room. Whoever this Heather Gallop had been, she wasn’t one of those people who make a mess of their hotel rooms. The woman’s clothes were meticulously hung in the closet, and as she checked the small collection she saw that Heather had impeccable taste, too. Three very nice dresses that must have cost a pretty penny, and even an evening dress. Judging from the pile of underwear she hadn’t come to stay for a long time, at the most a week or so.

“I found her driver’s license, sir,” said the cop who’d phoned Chase. “Illinois,” he said as he handed the card to the detective.

“Why does a woman from Illinois travel all the way to Long Island to meet with Dan Goory?” Chase muttered. “To sell him a copy of a movie that doesn’t exist?”

The room was otherwise sparse: apart from the clothes in the closet, the suitcase under the bed and the gnomes and portrait on the table, there was nothing that gave a sense of the woman’s personality, or offered a glimpse into her life.

“I’ll see if I can’t get in touch with her folks back home,” said Chase. “See if we can’t lift the veil of who this woman was and what she was doing here.”

Odelia nodded. The receptionist had told them Heather had checked in three days ago, but he couldn’t recall her having received any visitors. He also knew she drove a rented car, which she’d parked in the hotel lot, and that she’d paid with a credit card, not cash, but apart from that, there wasn’t a lot he could tell them about the mystery woman.

“I doubt she flew in simply to engage in an affair with Dan,” said Odelia. As her uncle seemed to think, and presumably the entire population of Hampton Cove. At least no one would be holding Odelia’s pen when she wrote her article detailing that morning’s shocking events. She wasn’t going to allow the Gazette to become a forum to slander its founder and editor, so she’d already put the newspaper social media pages on lockdown. No one was going to slander her boss on his own platform. She’d see to that at least.

Of course she couldn’t control what people would say in the Hampton Cove Facebook group, or on the streets and in the shops.

All she could do was find the real killer, because she was absolutely certain Dan was innocent.

Chase got another phone call, and when he returned moments later he looked a little baffled.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Well, I called UPS after what you told me. That was them returning my call.”

“And?” she asked. “What did they say?”

“That there never was a delivery at the Gazette this morning. Whoever this UPS man was, he most certainly wasn’t sent by them.”

She shared a look of concern with her partner.“Which means he was probably the killer,” she said as she voiced the thought that was going through both their heads.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Come on, Dan,” Chief Alec said, leaning back in his chair. “How long have we known each other? And here you sit insulting my intelligence by lying to me!”

“I’m not lying, Alec!” said Dan. “I’m telling you the truth!”

They were seated across the table from one another in interview room number one, and frankly Alec was quickly losing his patience with the newspaperman.

“Look, we both know how this is going to go,” said Alec. “No judge will believe you when you tell your cockamamie story about your windshield wipers.”

“But it happened! Just check my phone!”

“I did. You got a call at the time you said you did. Unknown caller. Could have been an insurance company trying to sell you life insurance. Could have been a mobile phone salesman. Could have been anyone.” He leaned forward. “Just get it off your chest, Dan. Trust me, you’ll feel much better when you do. So who was she, huh? Old girlfriend? Was she pregnant, is that it? You lost it when she said she wanted to keep the baby?”

“Look, how many times do I have to tell you: I never saw the woman before. She called me out of the blue, and told me she wanted to meet. So I said sure, drop by any time. So she said she’d come in at eight thirty, and later sent me a one-word text.”

“Gnomeo.”

“Exactly. Which is how I knew it had something to do with the club.”

“The Gnomeos.”

“Right. Happens all the time that complete strangers come up to me with information they think might be relevant for the Gnomeos, or the magazine.”

“So if you arranged to meet at eight thirty, why was she dead when Odelia walked in at eight ten?”

“I told you—I stepped out for just a minute.”

“Your windshield wipers.”

“Exactly!”

“You actually told her to meet you at eight, didn’t you? So you could avoid her meeting Odelia? You didn’t want nosy parkers around when you two hooked up?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Only Odelia was early, wasn’t she? Arrived before you could get rid of the body. Is that why you ran out of your office, to bring your car around so you could get rid of the body?”

“In full view of the whole street? You’re crazy, Alec.”

Alec wagged a finger in the man’s face. “Watch what you say, Dan. I’m still chief of police.”

“You’re also a fool if you think I’d murder a woman I’ve never even seen before and try to get rid of the body by shoving her body into the trunk of my car.”

“Ha!” said Alec with a note of triumph in his voice. “I never said trunk.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

“I don’t know, Dan,” said the Chief, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed in you, that’s all I can say.”

“Well, at least that’s something we have in common,” Dan snapped. “Cause I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“What did I tell you about watching your tone?”

“You’re wasting time. While you’re harassing me the real killer is getting away.”

“Oh? And who do you think the real killer is?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Jack Warner, of course.”

“The chairman of the Maria Power Society?”

“Of course! He must have found out this woman was going to hand me something of value and wanted to stop her. So he killed her and took whatever it was she was going to give me and is now laughing his ass off at the incompetence of our local police force.”

“And what could possibly be so valuable that it would be worth killing for?” asked the Chief, not hiding the skepticism in his voice.

“The only remaining copy of Rupert Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet,” said Dan.

The Chief stared at the man.“That’s just an urban legend.”

“An urban legend that just might be real.”

As a big fan of Maria Power himself, and a member of the Gnomeos, it struck Alec that Dan was probably playing him.“Finkelstein destroyed every single copy of that movie. It’s the story we all know and regret.”

“Well, I heard differently, and trust me when I say that Jack Warner believes it is true, too. There must have been a copy left, and somehow Heather Gallop managed to get her hands on it and was about to offer it to me.” He slumped. “And so Jack killed her for it.”

Chapter 11

Once again Dooley and I were invited to sit in on an interview with a suspect. This particular suspect was a man named Jack Warner. When Chase got the call from his superior officer—Odelia’s uncle—to have a quiet word with Mr. Warner, Odelia had pleaded successfully with her future husband to be included in the t?te-?-t?te, and of course she’d negotiated for Dooley and me to be included, hoping we could chat with the man’s pets, if he had any.

Much to my dismay, though, Jack Warner was a man utterly devoid of pets of any persuasion, though by his own admission he’d once owned a Chihuahua, whose urn now took pride of place on his mantel. A notion I found a little creepy, to be honest with you.

Mr. Warner lived in an apartment on the second floor of a new building, and was scrupulously clean for a man who lived alone. On the wall over that same mantel a huge portrait of Maria Power hung, smiling at all and sundry from her vantage point, and there were several glass display cases, much of the same design as the ones in Dan’s office, and they even contained much of the same type of paraphernalia: film posters, pictures of the same Maria Power in what I assumed was her Hollywood heyday, a bust of the actress, and another one of her dresses hung on a mannequin.

It almost seemed to me as if the woman had decided to give away all of her dresses and now had nothing left to wear.

“So tell me, Mr. Warner,” said Chase, launching into the interview with his usual aplomb. “You’ve been accused by Dan Goory of having snuck into his office this morning and murdering his visitor, a woman who had something valuable to share with Dan, something associated with Maria Power. What do you have to say to that?”

Jack Warner laughed heartily. He was a man in his late sixties dressed in a nice pink polo shirt, gray slacks, his hair neatly coiffed, his mustache nicely clipped. All in all he looked just like his apartment: perfectly appointed and squeakily clean.

“Dan said that? You have got to be kidding.”

“I never kid when I’m on duty,” said Chase seriously.

Mr. Warner quickly sobered.“Well, what can I say? It’s ridiculous, of course. Perfect nonsense. Are you sure the woman is dead? Dan is a great practical joker. He could simply be playing a trick on you—and me. At my expense, of course.”

“You and Dan don’t get along?”

“Oh, everybody knows that,” said the man with an airy wave of the hand. “I run the Society, he runs the Gnomeos, and the water between the two clubs runs very deep indeed.”

“So you’re the chairman of the Maria Power Society,” said Chase, jotting down a note.

“That’s right. The oldest and most popular official Maria Power fan club.”

“Which is exactly what Dan says,” Chase remarked.

“Of course he does. Look, we launched in October 1976 and he launched his Gnomeos—ridiculous name, if you ask me—in November. So I ask you: which one of us is the oldest? We are, of course, and it’s something that’s always stung. To this day Dan can’t help but smear my good name and saythe most horrible things about the Society.”

“But… you’re both fans of Maria Power, right?” said Odelia.

“Look around,” said Jack. “What do you think?”

“So… shouldn’t you be best friends instead of enemies?”

“It’s frankly impossible to be friends with that man,” Jack scoffed. “In the past I’ve suggested we join forces but he shot me down each time. Take the Maria Power retrospective, for instance. That was my idea! But of course Dan had to muscle in and take over. And now he claims it was hisidea all along. Which of course is a blatant lie, but since he’s the big newspaperman everyone believes him.” He shrugged and flicked a piece of lint from his slacks. “I’ve learned to simply ignore Mr. Goory’s delusional antics.”

“Can you tell us where you were this morning between eight and eight fifteen, Mr. Warner?” asked Chase, getting down to brass tacks.

“I was right here, enjoying my breakfast and reading the newspaper—not the Gazette, mind you. How anyone can read that drivel is frankly beyond me—no offense to you, my dear. I’m sure you’re a wonderful reporter. Working for the wrong man.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Well, no. I live alone, you see. My dear wife passed away three years ago, and it’s just been me and Maria ever since.” He gestured to the portrait of the actress above the mantel, a wistful expression on his face.

“Dan claims that Heather Gallop might have had a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet in her possession,” said Odelia, causing Mr. Warner’s eyes to twinkle with delight.

“Oh, goodness gracious. Another old wives’ tale. When are you going to stop believing that man? Of course she didn’t have a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet. No one does. The director destroyed every single print of that movie. Everybody knows that.”

“So you don’t think she was going to hand over a copy to Dan?” asked Chase.

“Of course not! There are no copies. A pity, naturally, because by all accounts it must have been the most amazing picture. It established Maria Power as a leading lady straight out of the gate, and destroyed the career of its director in the process. A beautiful story, don’t you think? Out of the ashes of Rupert Finkelstein’s career rose the most wonderful actress the world has ever seen. A little bit like A Star is Born, though without the dreadful music.” He heaved a sigh and showed us his arm. “Look. Just talking about it gives me goosebumps.”

“So you wouldn’t know anything about Heather Gallop or why she was in town to meet Dan?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. If you ask me she’s probably an old flame of Dan’s—the man is an inveterate Lothario, even at his advanced age. She must have told him she was leaving him for another man and he must have flipped. Goory has the most horrendous temper. But you know that, don’t you, dear?”

Odelia said,“Actually, I don’t. And I must say I don’t recognize the Dan I know in your description.”

“Then you’ve been very, very lucky, Miss Poole.” He gave a little shake of the head. “By the same token that dead woman could have been you.”

Chapter 12

Tex arrived home feeling only slightly more uplifted than when he’d set out for the office that morning. Examining strange and multi-colored spots on patients’ backs and gazing deeply into hairy earholes, infected throats and even poking his (gloved) fingers into one man’s backside for a prostate exam were all things designed to take one’s mind off any problem vexing it, and so by the time he’d sent his last patient on her way he’d almost forgotten that some dastardly demon had absconded with his gnomes the previous night.

Almost, but not quite.

And so by the time he’d changed into his Bermudas and loud Hawaiian shirt and was standing in his backyard surveying his domain, his melancholy was back in full force.

He’d asked his brother-in-law to investigate the case but hadn’t heard back. He’d asked his future son-in-law the same thing and hadn’t heard back either.

Fat chance the police would put every last available officer on a case as inconsequential as the theft of a few gnomes. Still, he’d hoped for more. After all, he’d practically been feeding Alec from his own purse ever since the man’s wife died, and he’d clasped Chase to his bosom, even going so far as to allow the young man to call him ‘Dad.’

He shuddered at the thought, then spotted movement from the corner of his eye and wandered over to the fence that separated his patch of suburban heaven from the next.

“Hey, Ted,” he said a little morosely as he leaned on the fence and addressed his neighbor Ted Trapper, who was busy polishing one of his own garden gnomes.

It was a hobby both men shared, and Tex liked to think it had brought them closer.

“Hey, Tex,” said Ted, looking a lot happier than Tex was feeling. “How was your day?”

“So so,” said Tex. “Yours?”

“Oh, you know. Dealing with office politics all day long doesn’t exactly uplift and inspire. But then I come home to find these sweet precious babies and any thought of strangling my psychopathic boss goes right out the window and I’m sane again.”

Tex idly glanced in the direction of Ted’s ‘babies’ and was surprised to find that they looked almost exactly like his own, now absent gnomes.

“Say, Ted. Your collection seems to have grown considerably,” he said, staring at one gnome that looked the spitting image of the crowning piece of his own collection. It was one of those fat jolly gnomes with its face stuck in a rictus grin and its apple-cheeked features just a little too happy for comfort. In fact he could probably feature in a Patterson novel as a serial killer about to slay victim twenty-three in a most gruesome manner.

“Yeah, I’ve been splurging,” said Ted, sounding a little guilty but not much. “Marcie isn’t too happy about it, let me tell you. And I did promise her I’d stop now. She feels my collection is about as big as she’ll tolerate, so there’s that. And some of these guys don’t come cheap.” He chuckled. “Listen to me go on. Of course I don’t have to tell you. You have some of the nicest gnomes in the neighborhood. Pride of your collection and all that. I have to confess, though, Tex, that living next door to you and seeing your frankly fantastic collection has given me that boost to go the extra mile myself.” He grinned. “Nothing like a bit of healthy competition between neighbors, eh?”

A look of suspicion had traveled up Tex’s face and he now asked, “Can I see that big one over there for a moment, Ted? Yeah, the one with the pea-green bib.”

Ted dutifully handed Tex the big gnome with the pea-green bib and Tex turned it over in his hands. When he saw the big red T on the gnome’s undercarriage he snorted wildly.

“What’s wrong, Tex?” said Ted, cautiously taking the gnome from his neighbor’s hands.

But Tex was too overwhelmed for speech. Instead he was breathing loudly through both nostrils, like a bull about to charge a matador and gore him.

“Do you want me to get you a doctor?” Ted laughed and slapped his brow. “Oh, silly me. You are a doctor! What am I saying?”

Tex finally found speech again, but when he opened his mouth, expecting fire and brimstone to pour out, instead a long drawn-out scream erupted:“THIEEEEEEEEEF!”

“What?” said Ted, stepping back a few paces.

“YOU’RE A THIEF!” Tex screamed at the top of his lungs. “YOU STOLE MY GNOMES!”

“What? I did not!” said Ted, retreating even further from his fire-breathing neighbor.

“That is my gnome and you know it!”

“Are you crazy? This is my gnome,” said Ted, cradling the gnome, as one would a baby.

“It still has the big red T I wrote on the bottom! Check it!”

Ted checked it and frowned.“Gee. There is a T.”

“That’s my T! I write T on all of my gnomes. T for Tex. So I can catch filthy thieves like you in the act—THIEEEEEEEF!”

“But, Tex, really,” said the man, growing a little white around the nostrils. It’s never pleasant to be accused of theft, and especially not by a neighbor having gone berserk.

“You stole my gnomes—confess, you THIEF!”

“What’s going on here?” asked Marcie, coming out of the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Tex says I stole his gnome,” said Ted, now looking like a kicked puppy.

“Is this true, Tex? Are you accusing my husband of being a thief?”

“Yes, Marcie, I am,” said Tex. “Because that’s what your husband is. A filthy THIEF!”

“Oh, will you stop shouting,” said Marcie with a frown.

“He says I stole this gnome,” said Ted, showing his wife the gnome in question.

“There’s a big letter T on the bottom of that gnome. I wrote that,” said Tex, breathing stertorously. If a doctor had been present, and that doctor had been a different doctor from the one now looking close to a heart attack, he would probably have advised Tex to take it easy. But since therewasn’t, it was up to Marcie to take the sensible approach.

She opened the little gate a previous homeowner had once installed and that connected both gardens and said,“Tex, come over here a minute, will you?” Once Tex had complied, she added, “Now sit down. You too, Ted.”

Both men reluctantly sat down at the garden table, Tex shooting fire with his eyes, insofar as a mild doctor can shoot fire with his eyes, and Ted sitting at the edge of his chair, ready to bolt if Tex made the slightest move to violate the physical integrity of his person.

“Now let’s thresh this thing out,” said Marcie, grabbing the gnome from her husband’s hands and turning it upside down. “Where did you get this gnome, Ted?”

“I… I don’t remember,” said Ted.

“Hah!” said Tex.

“Quiet, Tex,” said Marcie. “What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

“Well, I did drop by the garden center yesterday to buy a fresh batch, but I honestly don’t remember every single one of them or their exact particulars.”

“How many did you buy?”

“Um, a dozen?” he said, giving his wife a sheepish look.

“Oh, Ted,” said Marcie with a sigh. “And how many did you have?”

“Two dozen.”

“So that makes three dozen. So let’s count, shall we?”

All three of them started counting the gnomes in Ted and Marcie’s backyard. It immediately became clear there were far more than thirty-six gnomes littering the place. In fact there were forty-eight.

“How is that possible?” murmured Ted.

“Because you stole mine!” Tex cried, and made to get up and wring Ted’s neck.

Marcie pushed him back down and said crisply,“Ted, did you steal Tex’s gnomes?”

“No, of course I didn’t!” her husband cried.

“Hah!”

“Quiet, Tex. So where do these extra twelve come from?”

“I don’t know!”

Marcie had gotten up and was now checking a couple of the superfluous gnomes.“Some of these have the letter T on them,” she said.

“Those are all mine,” said Tex, getting up and collecting them from Marcie’s hands.

“I don’t know what to say, Tex,” she said apologetically.

“I swear on the heads of my kids that I didn’t steal your gnomes, Tex!” Ted cried, much perturbed.

But Tex didn’t even deign the gnome thief with a response. Instead he checked every single gnome in that backyard until he’d retrieved his own dozen gnomes. Then, his arms laden with gnomes big and small, he stalked off.

“Tex, buddy, please!” said Ted.

But Tex had left the backyard.

Chapter 13

Vesta glanced up at the impressive church steeple and made the sign of the cross.

“What are we doing here?” asked Scarlett, watching with some measure of bewilderment as her friend displayed all the hallmarks of a religious person, which she hadn’t thought Vesta actually was.

“We’re adding another formidable recruit to our already formidable team,” said Vesta.

“Father Reilly? Are you sure?”

“A priest knows, Scarlett,” Vesta pointed out. “In fact a priest knows all. People come in to confess, and he writes it all down in his little black book. Criminals, sinners, or even righteous souls confessing some minor transgression. Father Reilly knows all and sees all.”

“I think that’s God,” said Scarlett, but Vesta was undeterred.

“If we can recruit Father Reilly to our cause, crime in Hampton Cove will be all but extinct,” she said, and crossed the threshold to step into the church proper. It took some effort to push through those heavy oak doors, and then they were inside, in that cool and semi-dark place that was St. John’s Church, the town’s center of all that was holy.

As it happened, Father Reilly was replenishing the stoup near the entrance as they strode in, and smiled in greeting.“Vesta. Scarlett. What brings you here?”

“We have an offer for you, Francis,” said Vesta. “An offer you can’t refuse.”

Father Reilly’s equanimity diminished to a slight degree. “Is that so?”

“We’re launching Hampton Cove’s first-ever neighborhood watch,” Scarlett explained, glancing around a little uneasily. She hadn’t set foot inside a church in ages, and as Hampton Cove’s number one Jezebel now wondered if the gates of hell would suddenly open up underneath her feet and swallow her whole. She disliked sulfur, or white-hot flames licking at her feet. Just to be on the safe side, therefore, she stayed close to Father Reilly. Satan would think twice before swallowinghim up whole, wouldn’t he?

“A neighborhood watch, eh?” said the priest, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

“Yeah, and we want you on our team,” said Vesta, wasting no time coming to the point. “You’d be an incredible asset,” she added when the priest frowned in confusion.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” he said now, indicating he was going to prove a tough sell.

“And why is that?” asked Vesta, her face taking on its most mulish expression.

“Well, for one thing I’m a man of God, and men of God don’t usually involve themselves in local politics.”

“This got nothing to do with politics, Francis,” said Vesta. “This is your duty as a citizen. Don’t you want our streets to be safe for all to walk on, even in the middle of the night? Don’t you want our kids to sleep peacefully in their beds, safe in the knowledge that no child snatcher is crawling through the window ready to snatch to their heart’s content? And don’t you want the proud homeowner to relax, knowing no one is going to spray graffiti on his picket fence, or burgle his safe or even steal his Lab or schnauzer?”

“Well, of course I want the members of my little flock to be safe,” said the priest. “Who doesn’t? But that’s why we have a police force, Vesta. A most capable police force consisting of brave and dedicated police officers, always ready to give of their best for the good of the community.Why only this morning Chief Alec was in here to talk to me about the disappearance of my gnomes.”

Scarlett frowned at this.“Did you say gnomes?”

“Gnomes, yes. Several of my most precious garden gnomes seem to have gone missing overnight. It is a mystery most baffling. A crime most heinous. And Chief Alec said he’d make it his top priority to find out who absconded with my precious treasures.”

Vesta and Scarlett shared a look of concern.“You’re not the only one whose gnomes have gone missing, Francis,” said Vesta. “It happened to my son-in-law, too. No less than twelve of his gnomes have been taken from his backyard under cover of darkness.”

“Sounds to me like a gang,” said Scarlett, studying the granite church floor for signs of hell fire licking at her ankles. “An international gang of gnome thieves,” she specified.

“Now, see, this is exactly the kind of thing our neighborhood watch is going to take care of,” Vesta said with a note of triumph in her voice. She suddenly reminded Scarlett of Zig Ziglar or Brian Tracy or one of those other super-super-salesmen.

“I’m sure your son has the situation well in hand,” said the priest, waving a dismissive hand.

“Ha!” said Vesta, in a scoffing manner.

“Ha!” Scarlett echoed, equally scoffing.

“If you think Alec is going to spend one minute of his time looking for your precious gnomes you’re sorely mistaken,” said Vesta.

“Not a single minute,” Scarlett emphasized. Out of habit she’d been lightly jiggling her d?colletage, before realizing this probably wasn’t the right way to make a priest do one’s bidding, so she stopped jiggling.

“I just happen to know Alec is knee-deep in a murder case right now,” said Vesta. “So your gnomes are the furthest thing from his mind.”

“A murder case!” Father Reilly exclaimed, and quickly genuflected, causing Vesta, too, to mimic the gesture and even Scarlett to follow suit, though with some reluctance.

“Yeah, some blond babe got whacked by Dan Goory,” said Vesta.

“Not Dan Goory!” Father Reilly cried.

“Yes, Dan Goory,” said Vesta with a measure of relish. “So you see, no one is looking for your gnomes, Francis. We gotta take matters into our own hands if we want justice to prevail.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” said Father Reilly thoughtfully.

“I am putting it that way. And what’s more—it stands to reason that if your gnomes were snatched, and Tex’s gnomes were snatched, there’s bound to be more victims. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if all the gnomes of Hampton Cove are in mortal danger.”

“An international gang,” Scarlett repeated.

“So do you want your gnomes back or not?” asked Vesta. “Cause if you don’t, that’s fine by me. I’ll bet whoever took them is probably melting them down as we speak. They did the same thing with Kim Kardashian’s jewelry when she was robbed in Paris that time.”

Scarlett wasn’t sure if gnomes could be melted down, but it sounded good. “Yeah, they’re probably lighting a fire at your poor gnomes’ feet right now,” she said, nodding.

A distinct look of anguish came over the priest’s face, and he clutched at his white hair. “Oh, no! My poor, poor gnomes,” he whimpered.

It surprised Scarlett that a grown man could be so attached to a bunch of ugly little men made of plaster and painted in the most hideous colors, but what did she know?

“So are you with us?” asked Vesta, holding out her hand.

After a moment of hesitation, the priest stuck out his hand and shook Vesta’s, then Scarlett’s. Scarlett, once again out of habit, bent over slightly to offer the man a closer look at her cleavage before remembering where she was, at which point she straightened and gave the man a cheerful grin. Father Reilly, looking a little dizzy now, and out of sorts, blinked a few times, then murmured, “Excellent. Yes, quite excellent.”

Chapter 14

That evening, dinner at the Pooles was a big affair. The Poole family was there, of course, but also Uncle Alec and his girlfriend Charlene Butterwick, who was Hampton Cove’s mayor, and even Vesta’s dear friend Scarlett.

Dooley and I sat at the sidelines, as did Harriet and Brutus. In fact the four of us were ensconced on the porch, while the humans were all seated around the large garden table Marge had set for the occasion.

The weather was excellent, and so was the mood.

This may surprise you, as the day hadn’t been without its moments of tragedy. Uncle Alec had suffered defeat when he’d been forced to let Dan Goory walk free, unable to pin the murder of Heather Gallop on him with a sufficient degree of finality. Tex was still sulking after the shocking discovery that his neighbor Ted Trapper had been the one behind the terrible theft of his gnomes. And Odelia and Chase were still nowhere in their investigation of the murder of that same Heather Gallop.

As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t feeling all that happy either, as the matter of the mouse invasion still weighed heavily on my mind, and I still hadn’t seen my way toward a solution satisfactory for all.

“I talked to Rufus today,” Harriet said, tackling the topic as if reading my mind. “And he promised he’d come over tonight to talk to the mice.”

“Rufus?” I asked, much surprised by this denouement. “Why Rufus?”

“Because we have all failed in our mouse diplomacy,” said Harriet. “And I was thinking that maybe a giant dog like Rufus could succeed to talk some sense into Hector and Helga.”

It was definitely an idea worth exploring, I had to admit.

“Are mice afraid of dogs?” asked Dooley.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it’s worth finding out. He is a great deal bigger and potentially more threatening than the four of us, even when working in tandem.”

“I think it’s a lousy idea,” grumbled Brutus, who for some reason wasn’t a big fan of the sheepdog.

“Oh, sugar buns,” said Harriet with a light tinkling laugh. “Stop sulking for a moment, will you? Rufus is simply going to talk to the mice and then he’ll be on his way again.”

“So a priest, a rabbi and a jackrabbit walk into a bar,” Dooley began, but I immediately silenced him. I frankly wasn’t in the mood for any more of his lame jokes.

“I heard you made an arrest today?” said Gran as she expertly sliced through her piece of steak.

“Yeah, and then I let him go again,” said Uncle Alec, munching somberly on a helping of peas in butter sauce. “No evidence.”

“Oh, Uncle Alec,” said Odelia. “You don’t really think Dan is a killer, do you? The man can’t even swat a fly without asking it for forgiveness first.”

“In my experience the most obvious answer is usually the right one,” said Uncle Alec. “Dan was there, and so was the victim, and his fingerprints are all over the murder weapon, which, by the way, also belonged to him.”

“What about the UPS guy?” asked Chase, helping himself to a helping of mashed potatoes.

“What about him?”

“UPS claims they never sent anyone, so it stands to reason he could be the killer.”

Uncle Alec grumbled something, clearly not convinced.

“Are you sure this Heather Gallop person was murdered?” asked Charlene. “Maybe she simply tripped and fell and hit her head?”

“She was murdered, all right,” said Alec. “With a garden gnome, if you please.”

At the mention of the word‘gnome’ Tex looked up sharply, rising from the gloom in which he’d been cloaked for the past twenty minutes. “Did you say gnome?” he asked.

“Tex is very upset,” Marge explained for the benefit of the rest of the company. “He discovered today that our neighbor Ted Trapper stole his gnomes.”

“And had the gall to deny the whole thing!” said Tex, his faith in humanity clearly severely shaken.

“Are you absolutely sure that Ted took your gnomes?” asked Gran.

“I picked them out of his garden myself,” said Tex. “Here, let me show you.” Animation had returned to his limbs and he got up and disappeared into the house.

“He keeps his collection of gnomes under lock and key now,” said Marge. “Afraid they’ll be stolen again.”

“Father Reilly’s gnomes were stolen,” said Scarlett as she frowned at a pea, pronged on a tine of her fork. Scarlett isn’t a big eater, and the amount of butter Marge likes to use when preparing her dishes had probably thrown her. You can’t maintain a figure like Scarlett’s on buttered spuds, veggies and steak. “We think it’s a gang of international gnome thieves, isn’t that right, Vesta?”

“Yeah, definitely a gang,” Gran confirmed. “We talked to several more people and so far three of them have had their gnomes snatched.”

“Surely Ted Trapper didn’t steal them all,” said Charlene. Charlene is one of those mayors who always sees the best in people, and it was clearly hard for her to believe that Ted Trapper would be an international gnome thief, or even a national one.

Tex had returned with a gnome clutched in his arms, darting nervous glances in the direction of the fence that divides his garden from Ted’s, as if afraid the man would suddenly pop up and snatch his gnome. “Look here,” said the doctor, and he turned the gnome upside down. “See this?”

We all craned our necks to see. On the bottom of the gnome a big red letter T had been written in permanent red marker.

“This is how I proved that Ted is a common thief.” He turned to his brother-in-law. “I’d like to file charges, Alec. Can I file charges? I feel very strongly I should file charges.”

“Sure you can file charges, Tex,” said Alec, as he ladled a second—or it could have been a third or even a fourth—helping of extra-buttery mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“Easy now, darling,” said Charlene, placing a hand on the Chief’s arm. “Your diet, remember?”

Alec gave her a look of alarm, then reluctantly returned the potatoes to the glass bowl and set down his plate—now completely devoid of food, buttery or otherwise.

“Um, come into the police station tomorrow,” he said. “Dolores will take your statement.”

“Are you sure about this, Tex?” asked Marge. “We don’t want to create trouble with the neighbors now do we?”

“I didn’t create the trouble,” said Tex. “He did,” he added, pointing the gnome’s pointy red hat in the Trappers’ direction.

Just then, Ted’s head appeared over the fence, caught sight of Tex viciously waving his gnome, gulped, and sank out of view again.

Clearly things weren’t hunky-dory in pleasant suburbia.

“So what’s going to happen next?” asked Charlene, who likes to stay on top of things in her town. She’d addressed her question at Odelia. “With the murder case, I mean?”

“Well, we interviewed Jack Warner today. He runs the Maria Power Society, one of two official Maria Power fan clubs in town, and he thinks Dan is the culprit.”

“Ha!” said Uncle Alec, clearly feeling justified by Jack Warner’s words.

“And why does he think that?” asked Charlene, as she directed a critical glance at the sizable piece of chocolate pie Uncle Alec had scooped onto his dessert plate.

“There seems to exist a great degree of rivalry between the Maria Power Society and the Gnomeos,” Chase explained. “Both are dedicated to keeping the memory of Maria Power alive, and their leaders have had it in for one another for years.”

“Is she still alive, this Maria Power?” asked Scarlett.

“Oh, yes,” said Marge. “In fact she lives right here in Hampton Cove. Though no one has seen her in years. She likes to keep herself to herself. Our very own Greta Garbo.”

“I think we should probably go and have a chat with her,” said Odelia. “See what she has to say about this fan club business—and the murder, of course.”

I detected now, through the hole in the fence, that Rufus was trying to attract our attention.

“Rufus is ready to join us,” said Harriet, who’d noticed the same thing. “Are you guys ready?”

I sighed a deep sigh.“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. I didn’t want to admit it in front of the others, but I found the prospect of four cats having to enlist the services of a dog to help us chase a flock of mice from our basement humiliating to a degree. I mean, if word got out, the four of us would be thelaughing stock of all of Hampton Cove.

Then again, what else could we do? Rufus, as I saw it, was our last hope. And lucky for us, cats and dogs don’t usually seek out each other’s company, so chances of Rufus blabbing to our friends about this were minimal to non-existent.

And as we made our way into Odelia’s backyard, Rufus in tow, Dooley remarked, “You’re looking so unhappy, Max. Do you want me to tell you another joke?”

“No, Dooley. That won’t be necessary.”

I glanced over to Rufus, who gave me a goofy grin. Clearly the joke was on me.

Chapter 15

I have to admit I found it touching that Harriet would try to help me deal with the mouse issue. Though I wasn’t entirely happy with her solution, it was nice of her to cross over into enemy camp and recruit a dog to do my dirty work.

We entered the house through the pet flap, as is our habit, before I realized Rufus would never fit—in fact I sometimes have a hard time fitting through the darn thing myself.

Lucky for us Odelia had left the sliding glass door open and Rufus could easily enter the house that way.

“Nice place you got here,” said Rufus, admiring Odelia’s living room and kitchen. I caught him casting a curious glance in the direction of the four kibble bowls Odelia likes to set out for our enjoyment, and figured when this was all over, we’d probably have to pay the big fluffy dog in kibble. Mounds and mounds of kibble.

It was a sacrifice I was willing to make, though.

We passed through the basement door and paused on the first step. The peace treaty I’d negotiated with the mouse colony divides the house into different zones, not unlike Berlin at the end of World War II: the living room and the upstairs are ours, and the basement is reserved for Hector and Helga, which means it’s a no-go zone for us cats.

But since the mice have been trespassing into our zones so often recently I just figured the treaty was null and void.

“Let’s do this,” I said therefore, and trotted down the stairs, three cats and one sheepdog in my wake.

Arriving in the basement I sniffed and had to admit that Hector and Helga ran a tight ship. Feces-wise, I mean. I didn’t detect even a hint of mouse droppings.

“Hey, what are you doing here!” immediately a voice cried out. It belonged to Hector, the paterfamilias, and when he became aware of the presence of Rufus, I thought I could detect a hint of fear in his beady little eyes.

His little nose rose up into the air and he sniffed and wiggled his tail freely.

“Hector,” I said. “I’m afraid this cannot go on. Your offspring has been invading our space and absconding with our food supply so often now Odelia’s household budget has taken a serious dent. When she decided to adopt us, she allowed for four extra mouths to feed, and did so happily, as she loves cats and that’s what cat people do. But she never budgeted for one hundred extra little mouths to feed, if you see what I mean.”

“Two hundred,” Hector said as he eyed Rufus suspiciously.

“Two hundred!” I cried. “This situation is simply unsustainable, Hector. And it’s not fair. You promised me you wouldn’t steal the food from our table. You gave me your solemn word that you would forage outside. That you would live on the seeds and the bugs that are reaped aplenty in the gardens of our neighborhood. But instead you simply steal our kibble and raid Odelia’s fridge, pantry and cupboards. It’s simply not fair.”

“Oh, tush,” said Hector. “I never made any such promises.”

“Yes, you did!”

“You did, Hector,” Dooley confirmed. “I was there when you and Helga told us.”

“That’s the problem with you cats,” said Hector. “You only hear what you want to hear. I never said anything about living on seeds and bugs alone. You try to raise two hundred kids on seeds and bugs. I’d like to see you try.”

“What’s going on here?” asked a second voice. Helga came crawling out of a tiny hole in the wall and seemed startled when she saw the collected gathering. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be down here,” she said immediately.

“Max has brought a canine associate,” said Hector. “I didn’t catch your name, buddy,” he added, addressing Rufus.

“I’m Rufus,” said Rufus. “And I’m here to negotiate with you guys.”

“Well, negotiate away,” said Helga, crossing two tiny arms over her tiny chest. Her tiny little nose was waggling excitedly, but her face spelled storm.

“Max claims he never promised to share his food with us,” said Hector.

“Oh, yes, you did,” said Helga. “And you’re not going to backtrack now. You said we could eat whatever we wanted. That we were your treasured guests.”

“I never said any such thing!” I cried, getting more and more indignant.

“That’s cats for you,” said Hector, shaking his head. “You simply can’t trust them.”

“Devious creatures,” his wife agreed.

“Look, I would advise you to take a hike,” said Hector. “This is our basement and you have no business coming down here and stinking up the place with your cat stink.”

“Yeah, this cat and dog smell is the last thing we need,” said Helga.

“You’re telling us we stink?” asked Harriet, also getting worked up now.

“Let’s just say this particular ‘odor’ you guys spread is the last thing a growing mouse needs,” said Hector.

More mice had crawled out of different holes in the wall, and we were now surrounded by dozens and dozens of the tiny creatures. And all of them were throwing us less-than-friendly glances. It was a strange experience, to be treated as hostiles in our own home.

“Look, you guys have got to move out,” said Rufus now, finally remembering the reason for his visit. “This is not your home and I think it’s time for you to move along.”

“We’re not going anywhere, fleabag,” said Hector. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Ted and Marcie’s dog,” Rufus explained. “We live next door to Tex and Marge.”

Helga narrowed her eyes.“I know you. You scared the living daylights out of our cousins Molly and Rupert, didn’t you? Not nice of you, dog. Not nice at all.”

Molly and Rupert had once lived in Odelia’s basement, before moving one basement over into Tex and Marge’s basement, and making a final move to Ted and Marcie’s.

“What happened to Molly and Rupert?” I asked now.

“They moved on,” said Rufus. “When Marcie put out mouse traps they figured it better to find some other place to infest.”

“Hey, that’s a very nasty thing to say, dog!” said Hector.

“Yeah, we’re clean mice, and we have every right to be here, same as you,” Helga added.

It was clear we weren’t getting anywhere. If I’d hoped the presence of Rufus would make a difference, it clearly hadn’t. These mice weren’t scared of anyone, even a big dog.

Harriet gave Rufus a poke in the rear.“Do something,” she hissed.

Rufus, not exactly the fiercest dog in the universe, was clearly at a loss.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Scare them!” said Harriet.

“Scare them?” The concept seemed alien to the good-natured mutt.

“Yeah. Scare the bejeesus out of them.”

Rufus gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged. I didn’t know how to be scary any more than he did, so he was on his own there.

“Bark,” said Brutus. “Isn’t that what dogs do?”

Rufus did as he was told: he opened his mouth and emitted a short bark.

Hector and Helga shared a look of confusion, then started laughing.

Rufus tried again, this time putting more pep into his performance. He barked a couple of times, and even snarled. The result was two hundred mice rolling on the floor laughing.

And it was with our tails between our legs that we finally emerged from the basement.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been laughed out of your own basement by a nest of mice. Well, let me tell you it’s not a pleasant experience. In fact it’s quite humiliating.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” Rufus said ruefully. “They’re a tough crowd, these mice of yours.”

And that, they most certainly were.

Chapter 16

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t look so sad,” said Charlene. “It’s for your own good.”

Alec muttered something under his breath. Charlene had taken away his slice of chocolate pie and returned it to the platter for someone else to enjoy. He’d watched its departure with a sinking feeling. He liked chocolate pie. In fact he loved the darn stuff.

“You know what the doctor said. If you don’t lose weight now you’re putting yourself at risk. Obesity is no laughing matter.”

“I’m not obese,” he grumbled.

“Yet. But you’re getting there.”

They were walking down the street, on their way to the Seabreeze Music Center, where the Maria Power retrospective was taking place.

Both of them were dressed as garden gnomes: Charlene as a pretty female gnome, Alec as a jolly and more bulbous male gnome. Their cheeks were red, their heads were adorned with white pointy caps, and they were dressed in yards of red and green felt.

More gnomes were also heading in the direction of the center, and as they drew closer, they were surrounded by gnomes of all shapes and sizes. It was a festive occasion, and a sight to behold. But Alec couldn’t enjoy it the way he would have liked. Not after the chairman of one of the two fan clubs had possibly murdered a woman, and not after Charlene had taken away a good-looking piece of chocolate pie he’d marked for his own.

“Look, I’ll bake you a cake tonight if you stop sulking,” said Charlene.

His face lit up.“You mean that?”

“Of course. Only my cake will be the low-fat, low-sugar, dairy-free, gluten-free healthy variety.”

He cut her a dubious look.“It’s going to taste horrible, is it?”

“It’s going to taste just as delicious as your sister’s high-fat, high-sugar, high-dairy, high-gluten variety. You won’t even taste the difference.”

Somehow he doubted it. But he was willing to overlook that.“You would really do that for me?” he asked, deeply touched. As a widower of fifteen years, he wasn’t used to a woman being this nice to him, and it touched his heart.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said with a smile. “I care about you, my sugar bear.” She’d linked her arm through his and he suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

“There’s something else I’ll do for you tonight,” she said with a wink. “But only if you’re a good boy and have fun with me tonight.”

Now the warm and fuzzy feeling was extending to his nether regions and he even produced a goofy smile. After the kind of day he’d had, with gnome thefts he hadn’t been able to give his proper attention, and a murder case he hadn’t been able to solve, Charlene was really going all out to lift his mood.

“I’d like that,” he growled, and gave her a quick peck on the rouge-covered cheek.

She smiled.“And there’s that lovely smile again.”

They’d arrived at the center and lined up to go in. People greeted them excitedly. It isn’t every day that the mayor and chief of police become a couple, and Alec and Charlene’s story had inspired a certain tenderness in the townsfolk. Tickled their romantic bone.

“Look, Alec,” said Charlene, after she’d shaken several people’s hands and accepted their congratulations for landing such a catch. “It’s Dan.”

“Surprised he’d show his face,” Alec grumbled.

“He is still the chairman of the Gnomeos,” said Charlene. “And you did release him.”

Dan was also dressed as a gnome, only a very weathered one—a gnome that’s seen too many seasons, neglected by its owner. Out there braving the elements for too many years. He certainly didn’t look as happy and carefree as he usually did.

When he saw Alec he gave him a feeble smile, then immediately disappeared in the opposite direction.

“I still think he did it,” said Alec.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” Charlene pointed out. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

“I know, I know,” he said, none too pleased.

The chairman of the Maria Power Society, Jack Warner, stepped up to them with a wide grin on his face, and pumped first Alec’s hand, then pressed a kiss on Charlene’s.

“Honored to have you both here,” he said. “Honored indeed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said the Mayor pleasantly. “So who’s organizing this? Is it you or Dan Goory?”

“The Seabreeze Center took the initiative, and got both the Maria Power Society and the Gnomeos on board, but I think it’s safe to say we did most of the work. We are, after all, Hampton Cove’s number one Maria Power fan club.”

“Is she here?” asked Charlene, glancing around.

“Who? Maria Power?” Jack laughed a deprecating laugh. “Oh, no. Maria never leaves the house these days. Lives like a regular recluse. Of course we invited her, but she didn’t even deign us with a response.”

“Pity,” said Charlene. “It would have been nice if she’d come.”

“Yeah, it would really have put this retrospective on the map,” Jack agreed.

“Too bad.”

“Say, I thought you arrested Dan for murder?” asked Jack, taking the Chief aside for a moment while the Mayor socialized. “Imagine my surprise when he popped up just now.”

“Had to let him go,” grunted the Chief. “Lack of evidence.”

“You know, I think I might be able to help you with that,” said the man.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I can’t talk now, obviously. But why don’t you drop by my office tomorrow—you know where I work, right? So let’s talk and do lunch. I think I’ll be able to give your investigation into the dirty deeds of Dan Goory a nice big push in the right direction.” And with a wink, he left Alec staring after him.

A nice big push in the right direction was exactly what the investigation needed. And for the rest of the evening, even as Maria Power did her best to ensnare his attention from up there on the silver screen, acting not in one but no less than two of her most praised movies, all Alec could think about were Jack Warner’s words of promise.

Chapter 17

Ted Trapper stared miserably out of the kitchen window into his backyard, which now contained not three dozen but two dozen gnomes, after Tex Poole’s raid.

“I don’t get it,” he said for the umpteenth time. “How did Tex’s gnomes end up in our yard? It’s a mystery. A regular mystery.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t take them?” asked Marcie. She knew her husband, and how passionate about his hobby he could be. She wouldn’t put it past him to head into their next-door-neighbors’ backyard and abscond with a few gnomes, figuring Tex would never know.

But her husband turned to her with big, mournful eyes.“Not you, too,” he said in a low voice. “You think I stole them, don’t you?”

“Well, they ended up here, didn’t they?”

“I didn’t take them!” he exclaimed. “I would never steal Tex’s gnomes. I’m not a thief.”

“Then how did they end up here?”

“I don’t know!” he said, throwing up his arms.

“Maybe we should talk to Marge.”

He gave her a hopeful look.“You think Marge is behind this? Maybe to spite her husband?”

Marcie gave her husband a curious look.“No, of course I don’t think Marge is behind this. But she can talk to her husband, and maybe we can put this whole thing behind us.”

She hated to have this gnome thing hanging over them like a pall. She and Marge had always enjoyed a good relationship. She helped Marge out at the library from time to time, and Tex and Ted had been friends for years. She’d hate for a dozen ridiculous gnomes to put an end to all of that. She’d already vowed to talk to Marge herself, and maybe find a way to resolve this thing—neighbor to neighbor.

“Maybe it’s those damn kids,” Ted said, resuming his stance in front of the kitchen window and looking out into the backyard.

“What kids?”

He turned.“Didn’t I tell you? I got into some kind of fracas with a couple of punks the other day. They were spray-painting old Mrs. Lather’s house with graffiti and so I told them to stop. Instead they started yelling at me and calling me names. So I told them I’d call the police and when they kicked the car and threw a can of paint at my face I did.”

“And you think they’re adding to your collection of gnomes to get back at you?” She didn’t hide the skepticism in her voice. It seemed like a strange thing to do.

Her husband shrugged.“It’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

“Tomorrow we’re sitting down with Marge and Tex and we’re going to talk this thing through like grown-ups,” she said with a finality that made Ted look up. “This is just too silly,” she said, and walked into the living room. Her favorite show was about to start and she wasn’t going tomiss it over a couple of lousy gnomes.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Vesta and Scarlett were both ensconced in Vesta’s car—actually her daughter’s old red Peugeot that she liked to ‘borrow’ whenever it suited her. Vesta had parked the car in front of Kinnard Daym’s house, right around the corner from Harrington Street. Night had fallen, and the street was deserted, but they were both fully awake and vigilant—like true neighborhood watch members should be!

“How much longer?” asked Scarlett, yawning cavernously.

“Shouldn’t be much longer, I think,” said Vesta, who was feeling the strain. It was all well and good to start a neighborhood watch, but these all-night vigils were not really her cup of tea.

“Please tell me again why you picked this place to stake out?”

“Because Kinnard is the town’s most avid gnome collector, and if some gang is targeting gnomes this is the place where they’ll strike next.”

It was clear from Kinnard’s front yard that he was indeed a big gnome lover: no less than fifty gnomes littered the patch of green, the pointy-hatted creatures covering the lawn like a rash. There were even several gnomes dangling from the gutter, Santa style.

“I think they’re creepy,” said Scarlett. “I mean, how anyone can like those creepy things is frankly beyond me.”

“It takes all kinds of people, I guess,” said Vesta, who agreed with her friend’s assessment. She would go one step further and figure people who loved gnomes as garden ornaments probably should see a shrink. But that was just her, of course.

“Do you think this has got something to do with Maria Power?”

“Could be,” Vesta allowed.

“They seem to be into gnomes. All of them.”

Vesta had laughed when she’d watched her son and his girlfriend change into the gnome costumes for the Maria Power retrospective, but not as much as Scarlett had. The latter almost had a fit as she watched the two gnomes try to squeeze into Alec’s squad car. If it was tough to walk around dressed as a gnome it was even tougher to drive.

“I think they’re all nuts,” said Scarlett. “In fact I think you and I are the only two sane people in this whole town.”

“You’re not wrong,” Vesta said. Suddenly, she thought she saw movement across the street. She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Scarlett, look!”

“What?” asked Scarlett, who’d sagged in her seat and had placed her feet on the dash. She crawled into an upright position with some effort and watched eagerly where Vesta was pointing. “Damn, you’re right. It’s them!”

Two figures, dressed in black, staying in the shadows, had snuck into Kinnard’s yard and were busily picking up gnomes and tucking them into large plastic bags.

“Let’s go,” said Vesta, and quietly opened the car door and got out noiselessly. She was wearing her white sneakers and tiptoed across the street, eager to catch the dastardly doofuses in the act.

Behind her, though, a click-clacking sound made her look up. It was Scarlett, on her stilettos, negotiating the tarmac in her own typical manner: dressed to the nines, and making a great deal of noise.

The sound of the stiletto heels had alerted the thieves, too, for they both grabbed the two black plastic bags and before Vesta had crossed the street were already hauling ass.

“Hey! Come back here, you punks!” she yelled, shaking her fist.

“Some other time, grandma!” one of the thieves yelled, and both of them disappeared into the night, laughing all the while.

Scarlett, finally arriving, was panting.“Why didn’t you chase them?” she asked.

“Why couldn’t you be more quiet?” Vesta shot back.

They stared after the thieves, and Scarlett said,“Oh, well. At least you got a good look at them, right?” When Vesta didn’t respond, she repeated, “Right?”

“No, of course I didn’t get a good look at them. They heard us coming a mile away!”

Scarlett looked down at her Louboutins.“Yeah, maybe not the best outfit for a stakeout after all.”

“You think?!”

Inside the house, the lights had come on, and Kinnard Daym now appeared in the door, dressed in his night robe.“What’s going on here?” he asked, looking sleepy. He was a bespectacled little man, with a respectable mustache. He used to run the local liquor store, but had retired since. When his eye fell on his patch of front lawn, he actually yelped in horror and shock. “My gnomes! What happened to my gnomes?!”

“Two thieves took them,” said Scarlett. “But don’t worry, Kinnard. We’re going to do everything in our power to get them back.” And to show the retired shopkeeper that she meant business she handed him a card.

Kinnard read it.“Neighborhood watch. Your safety is our concern.” He looked up and stared for a moment at the two old ladies, one looking like an aged prostitute, the other an Estelle Getty lookalike, complete with fluorescent pink-and-purple tracksuit, large glasses and white curly hair. He closed his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Chapter 18

The next morning I woke up with the strange sensation that someone was watching me. Opening my eyes, I discovered that someone actually was! Harriet was looking at me in a way I don’t think she’s ever looked at me before.

It was disconcerting, to be honest.

“What?” I muttered. Most cats are immediately awake when they open their eyes, and on most days so am I. But after the disastrous encounter with the mice I hadn’t slept well, and I was feeling that if only I could have slept another couple of hours I’d be right as rain again.

But clearly Harriet had other plans. She was looking uncharacteristically chipper and bright, and was smiling at me in an inane fashion.

We were at the foot of Odelia’s bed as usual, though oftentimes Harriet and Brutus like to sleep at the foot of Gran’s bed instead. More space, if you see what I mean.

“What’s going on, Max?” asked Dooley, who was right next to me and stretched himself out languorously.

“I don’t know. Harriet is staring at me,” I said, and I was frankly starting to get a little worried. It was that smile, you see. The same smile clowns like to use to scare children out of their wits.

“Max,” said Harriet. “I have a great idea.”

“Oh?” I said carefully.

“About the mice.”

I groaned.“Not again.”

“No, but listen to me. Hear me out. Bear with me for a second here. So the mice aren’t scared of Rufus and they’re not scared of you or me or Dooley or Brutus, right?”

“Why did she name me last?” muttered Brutus, who was lying on Harriet’s other side, right on top of where Chase’s feet would have been if the lanky cop hadn’t curled up into a ball to give us cats some space. The trouble our humans go to.

“So if the mice aren’t scared of cats or big dogs, maybe they’re scared of small dogs,” Harriet suggested. “I mean, it’s the same thing with people. Some of them are scared of big dogs and others are scared of the little ones.”

“So?” I said, wondering where she was going with this.

“So why don’t we ask Fifi?”

I thought for a moment. It was still early, and I needed to compute her message.“Oh, right, Fifi,” I said finally, remembering that our next-door-neighbor Kurt Mayfield’s Yorkshire Terrier’s name is Fifi.

“I don’t know, sweet puss,” said Brutus. “Fifi is probably more afraid of mice than the mice are of her.”

He was right, of course. Fifi is one of those timid dogs that are scared of their own shadow. She might run like the wind at the sight of two hundred mice.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said nevertheless. At this point I was willing to try anything to get rid of these mice, even the unorthodox method of enlisting a dog smaller than myself.

“Great,” said Harriet. “That’s settled then. I’ll talk to Fifi and tonight we’ll take another shot at the mice.”

She looked pleased as punch and I smiled in spite of my misgivings.“It’s very nice of you to do this, Harriet,” I said. “Very nice indeed.”

She frowned.“I’m not doing this for you, Max. I’m doing this for me. It’s my food, too, you know, and my house.”

“Of course,” I said. Still, I thought it was very thoughtful of Harriet to step up to the plate like this.

The humans in the bed stirred, and Odelia lifted her head sleepily.“What’s with all the yapping?” she muttered. “Is it time to get up yet?”

“Not yet,” I told her. It was only five o’clock, after all. Too early for man or beast, with the exception of four cats, apparently. “Go back to sleep, Odelia.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, and promptly dozed off again.

Moments later four cats could be seen tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen. For the humans their day had yet to begin, but for us it already had. We’re not the kind of creatures who like to keep regular hours, you see. No eight hours of sleep for us. We like to take our eighteen hours intermittently, spread out throughout the day or night. We’re flexible that way. And since we’d already dozed enough for now, we headed into the kitchen for a nice breakfast. Until we discovered that our bowls were empty once more, the last mouse carrying the last piece of kibble and laughing maniacally as it did.

“I’m going to kill them!” Brutus yelled, slamming the floor with his fist.

“If only we were more like Clarice,” Harriet said wistfully. “Between the four of us we could gobble up two hundred mice in a heartbeat.”

The mere thought of eating fifty mice with hide and hair almost made me retch, though, so clearly this was not the solution.

“Maybe we should ask Clarice again?” I suggested.

“No dice, I’m afraid,” said Brutus. “I saw her yesterday, and she still insists we should deal with our own problems and keep her out of it.”

Clarice is one of those feral cats you see in every town. She usually stays close to the dumpsters behind the stores and restaurants of Main Street and she likes it that way.

For a moment we all thought about the kind of damage Clarice could do to Hector and Helga’s offspring but then dismissed the thought. We’re not animals. But it just goes to show how this war with the mice was taxing us. And taxing Odelia’s budget, of course.

“Let’s head into town,” I suggested. “See if we can’t find out what happened to Heather Gallop.”

“You do that,” said Harriet. “And Brutus and I will stay here and help Gran and Scarlett find out who’s stealing all these gnomes.”

Gran had arrived home very late last night. In fact we’d arrived together—we cats having just returned from cat choir, and she from a stakeout with Scarlett. She’d almost caught two gnome thieves, she’d told us, ‘almost’ being the keyword.

“We’ll ask Kingman if he knows anything about two gnome thieves,” I said.

“And we’ll tell Gran and Scarlett to ask around about that murder business,” said Harriet.

And matters thus arranged, we went our merry ways, to start another wonderful day of sleuthing and, hopefully, finding a bite to eat before the mice managed to abscond with it.

Chapter 19

It felt a little strange for Odelia to go into the office that morning, in light of the previous day’s events. Not just the fact that a murder had been committed at the Gazette offices but that her boss had been accused and arrested for murder, before being released again.

When she arrived, Dan was already in his office. When she entered, after a perfunctory knock on the doorjamb—his door was always open—she found him sitting behind his desk, staring into space. When he saw her, he seemed to wake up from his stupor and gave her a pained smile.

“Hey, honey. No dead bodies today, I’m happy to announce.”

“And a good thing, too,” she said, returning his smile. She took a seat in front of his desk. “How are you holding up?”

He looked pale and gaunt, and much older than his years. Dan wasn’t a young man but he seemed to have aged considerably these past twenty-four hours.

“Hanging in there,” he said. “Can you imagine that Wilbur Vickery gave me the stink eye this morning? And Blanche Captor and Ida Baumgartner even crossed the street when they saw me coming. Like a leper,” he said with more than a hint of bitterness.

“I’m sure it’ll all pass soon,” she said soothingly. “As soon as the real killer is caught they’ll be apologizing to you, I’m sure.”

“I’m not so sure. And what if the killer is never caught? You know what people are like. They’ll think I did it and they’ll give me a wide berth from now on.” He shook his head despondently. “What good is a reporter if no one will talk to him? You’ll have to take over the paper, Odelia. And I’ll have to retire in disgrace.”

“Don’t say things like that, Dan,” she said, her concern spiking. “I’m going to catch that killer if it’s the last thing I do, and your reputation will be just the way it was before: sterling.”

He gave her a half-smile.“I’m not sure it was ever sterling to begin with.”

“Oh, yes it is,” she said emphatically. “Now buck up and stop using the R word.”

He gave her a look of confusion.

“Retirement” she clarified with a smile.

“Oh, right.” He checked his watch. “I’m sorry but I have to go now. I have an important appointment I can’t miss.” And with these words he got up and walked out. He lingered by the door for a moment, and Odelia saw that he was staring at the spot where Heather Gallop’s body had lain. “When this is all over I think I’ll have this office completely remodeled,” he said. “I can’t work here without thinking about…” He swallowed. “Awful business. Absolutely awful,” he muttered, then tapped the doorjamb once and left.

Odelia walked over to her own office and started working on her article on the Maria Power retrospective. And she’d been working for about half an hour, smiling at some of the pictures she’d snapped of her uncle and Charlene Butterwick dressed up as gnomes, when suddenly her door flew open and Chase walked in. He was slightly out of breath.

“There’s been another murder,” he said without preamble. “Jack Warner. And this time Dan was caught red-handed.” He eyed her seriously. “I’m afraid he did it, babe. Your boss is officially a serial killer.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Dooley and I were lounging on the sidewalk in front of Wilbur Vickery’s General Store, enjoying a few rays of sun on our fur, and some of the kibble Kingman had been so kind to wrangle up for us, when all hell broke loose across the street.

The Hampton Cove Star is our town’s boutique hotel, and home to visiting celebrities and other notables. Now it was also the scene of quite the ruckus, as police cars arrived in droves, and suddenly we could see Odelia and Chase hurry up and enter the hotel.

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said immediately. “Something’s happened.”

“Oh, do we have to?” he asked, chewing on a piece of chicken kibble. He, too, was suffering from the strain the mice had imposed on our home and hearth.

But when he saw my expression, he immediately swallowed the piece of kibble whole and joined me in padding across the street, careful not to get pancaked by an overzealous driver.

We arrived there just as Odelia and Chase were standing around waiting for the elevator to heed their call, and Odelia smiled.“Just in time,” she said as she crouched down and tickled our necks. Then she grew serious, and whispered, “Keep your eyes peeled, you guys. Dan’s life depends on it.”

She didn’t offer any more information, but what she’d said sounded ominous enough to me.

We rode the elevator up in silence, and got off on the third floor. It soon became clear what had happened when we stepped into one of the rooms. There, lying on the floor, was Jack Warner, and he looked pretty dead to me. And right next to him… another garden gnome.

“It’s the garden gnome gang again!” Dooley cried. “First they steal the gnomes and then they use them to kill people!”

“I’m not sure it’s the same gang, though,” I said as I glanced around. I picked up a strong whiff of the scent I’d grown to associate with Maria Power again, which was hardly surprising as the same dress we’d seen hanging in Jack Warner’s apartment was draped across the bed for some reason.

“I wonder why he decided to bring that dress here,” I said.

“Maybe he likes to dress in women’s clothes,” Dooley suggested. “Some men are like that.”

“But why take a hotel room?” I asked. And what did Odelia mean when she said Dan was in mortal danger?

“Yes, we arrested Dan,” Uncle Alec was saying. “One of the cleaners caught him in the act, hovering over the victim, the gnome still in his hand. Her testimony sealed the deal.”

“Where is she?” asked Chase. “The cleaner?”

“Randal sent her home. She was completely overwrought. He told her we’d interview her later, when she’d recovered from the shock.”

Odelia nodded, glancing around.“So describe to me what happened, Uncle Alec. Exactly.”

Her uncle cleared his throat and assumed a wide-legged stance.“Well, Jack Warner arrived at the hotel at eight thirty. According to the receptionist he was in fine fettle. Told her this was the best day of his life. Though he didn’t say why that was, the receptionist figured he probably had a date lined up. Often people use the hotel for that purpose.”

“So then what happened?”

“Well, the receptionist was on the lookout for this illustrious date, Jack being well known to her, as she’s a member of the Maria Power Society herself. And so when Dan suddenly showed up…” He shrugged. “To say she was surprised is an understatement.”

“Dan told me had an important appointment he didn’t want to miss,” said Odelia. “He didn’t tell me it was Jack Warner, though.”

“No, he wouldn’t tell you, would he? Not if he planned to kill the man.”

“So then this cleaner walks in and Dan is standing over the dead man?” Chase asked.

The Chief nodded.“She opened the door by mistake, figuring the room was empty, and caught Dan in the act, still holding the gnome. He dropped it when he saw her and she started screaming her head off.” His face took on a grave note. “And then he ran off.”

“Dan ran off?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah. He did a runner. Didn’t get far, though. The cleaner immediately called down to the lobby, and by the time Dan arrived, they stopped him and called the cops. Randal and Sarah were first on the scene, and they arrested him on the spot.” There was a note of satisfaction in his voice. “And this time he’s not going to walk any time soon.”

Chapter 20

Odelia, as she sat down for the interview, remembered her promise to Dan: that she was going to catch this killer. Only she hadn’t thought that he’d go out and murder a man immediately afterward.

She found it hard to focus on the words of the hotel’s housekeeping supervisor, as her mind kept returning to the conversation with Dan that morning. He’d seemed so down in the dumps. And then to come here and kill his main rival? Why would he do such a thing? And had she read the man wrong all this time? It was hard to imagine.

They were in the bowels of the hotel, where the housekeeping department was located. Cleaners were passing through the supervisor’s office, inquiring after what had happened, but when they saw she was busy talking to the police, just as quickly disappeared again, like diffident creatures of the night.

The supervisor was a sturdily built woman, with an honest open face and a ready smile.“I thought it strange, you know,” she said now. “Daisy wasn’t supposed to come in today. And so when I heard she’d shown up after all, and had witnessed a murder…” She shook her head. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible.”

“Do you have her address, because my colleague forgot to take it down,” said Chase.

“Oh, of course,” said the woman, swiveling in her chair and turning to her computer. She’d placed her glasses on her nose and was frowning at the screen while she tapped a few keys. “Here it is. Daisy Rayo. Been with us four years now. Very nice girl. Hard worker.”

“And you’re saying she wasn’t even supposed to be here today?”

“No! It was her day off. She must have gotten the dates mixed up. Happens sometimes. Though not to Daisy, who’s very precise about that sort of thing.”

“Did you see her before she went home?”

“No. By the time we were told, she’d already left. But Mimi saw her, and said she looked terrible. Crying her eyes out. In a terrible state, Daisy was. Good thing they sent her home, poor thing. To run into a killer like that—he could have turned on her and killed her, too! Isn’t that what these serial killers do with witnesses? Kill them so they won’t talk?” She shivered. “Who would have thought nice and friendly Dan Goory would turn out to be some kind of monster?”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Oh, come on, Dan,” said Alec. “You can’t keep giving me the same nonsense. This time you were caught in the act—murder weapon in your hands, for crying out loud!”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I know,” said Dan, who looked even smaller and more wizened than before. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, when I saw Jack lying there, that gnome next to his head, I didn’t think. I just picked it up and…”

“Were caught by the cleaner.”

Dan nodded.“Stupid, I know.”

“Stupid is trying to convince me you didn’t do it.”

“But I swear to God, I didn’t!”

“First tell me what you were doing there. I thought you and Jack were sworn enemies?”

“We were. Which is why I was so surprised when I got his message late last night.”

“What message?”

Dan nodded to his phone, which was lying on the table between them.“Check my messages. It’s right there.”

Alec picked up the phone and frowned at the thing.“Um…” he said. “So how do you…” He fumbled around for a bit, then handed the thing to Dan. “You open it.”

Dan typed in his code and Alec immediately grabbed the phone from the editor’s hands again, earning him a sad look in response.

“So what am I looking for here?” Alec muttered, and then found the message and read aloud, “Dear Dan, I propose a truce. Our clubs have been at daggers drawn for far too long. I think it’s time we joined forces. Just think of all the wonderful things we could do if we put our heads togetherand stopped this ridiculous war! If you’re interested I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at nine at the Star—room 328. I sincerely hope you’ll come. Jack.” He glanced up. “So he was proposing a truce, was he?”

“Yeah, took me completely by surprise, I have to confess, as last night at the retrospective he was less than friendly. In fact he was downright mean. Claiming my club was bound to fail with this murder charge hanging over my head, and a dozen of my members had already jumped ship and joined his club.”

“So what happened, you walked in, got into a fight and smashed his head in?”

“No! I walked in and he was already dead.”

“Who opened the door?”

“It was open. I just pushed it open further.”

“And there was nobody else there.”

“No one. And then suddenly this cleaner walks in and starts screaming her head off. I thought she was going to attack me, so I panicked and ran. Which of course I shouldn’t have done.”

Alec thought for a moment. Contrary to the day before, he now found himself wondering if the man seated across from him was telling the truth. He could see Dan smashing the head of some woman in a lovers’ tiff, but not that of Jack Warner. The two of them had been at each other’s throats for years, and if they were going to kill each other, they’d have done it a long time ago.

No, something wasn’t right here. He could feel it in his (admittedly sizable) gut.

“All right,” he said. “You’re going to spend the night in the slammer, and probably you’ll be charged tomorrow and arraigned. But I’m going to talk to this cleaner and hear what she has to say. And I’m going to try and find possible other witnesses. Cause if what you’re saying is true, someone else killed Jack, and Heather Gallop, and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice.”

Dan nodded miserably.“I can’t believe this is happening to me. Again. This is a nightmare, Alec. A regular nightmare.”

Chapter 21

Odelia and Chase arrived at the home of Daisy Rayo and Odelia found herself thinking she lived in a pretty nice house for a cleaner. Then, dismissing the thought as irrelevant, she applied her index finger to the buzzer and pressed. She could hear the sound of the bell jangling inside the house, and patiently waited on the doorstep.

“If this woman really saw Dan bent over Jack with the gnome in his hand things are looking pretty bad for your boss,” said Chase.

“Things are looking bad for him regardless of Daisy Rayo’s witness statement,” said Odelia. “An innocent man doesn’t run—or at least that’s what I’ve always been told.”

“Even an innocent man can panic,” Chase pointed out. “Especially if he’s already been arrested the day before for a crime he didn’t commit.”

Odelia looked up at this.“So you don’t think he did it either?”

Chase hesitated.“Dan doesn’t strike me as a killer, babe. On the other hand, people will surprise you. A man you never considered a killer can sometimes turn out to be capable of the most heinous crime. So frankly I don’t know.”

She didn’t know either. It was hard to imagine that the man she’d been working for was a serial killer. But that’s what the evidence clearly pointed toward, so…

She pressed her finger to the bell again, and wondered if Daisy might have stepped out.

She brought her face closer to the glass and tried to peer inside. It was hard to see anything, as the glass was of the frosted variety. So instead she bent down and looked through the letterbox.

Once her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, her blood ran cold when she saw the lifeless figure lying at the bottom of the stairs.

“My, God, I think she fell, Chase,” she said, and tried the door. Locked, of course.

“Let me try,” said Chase, and put his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. “Call an ambulance,” he said. “I’ll see if I can get in through the back.”

Odelia did as he said, and moments later the door swung open and Chase appeared, twigs in his hair and looking slightly out of breath.“Had to climb a tree,” he explained. “Bathroom window was open. I think I might have stepped on a rubber duck, though.”

They both entered and approached the figure lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her neck was at an awkward angle, and even before Chase pressed his fingers to her throat to find a pulse, Odelia knew the girl was dead.

“Oh, heck,” she said, sitting back on her haunches. “What’s going on, Chase? This is the third death in two days, and all of them connected.”

“She could have fallen down the stairs,” he said, but Odelia shook her head.

“Too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? First she provides a witness statement fingering Dan for murder, and then she falls to her death less than an hour later? Something isn’t right.”

Chase glanced around, then looked past Odelia and got up.“Ma’am,” he called out, and Odelia watched him jog across the street.

She just wished she’d brought her cats along. They might have been able to sniff out some clues. And as if they’d been reading her mind, just then Max and Dooley tripped inside through the open door.

“We decided to follow you,” Max explained.

“We like Dan, and we don’t want you to lose your job,” Dooley added.

“What happened here?” Max asked.

“She fell down the stairs,” Odelia said.

“Fell or was pushed?” Max asked immediately, showing he was no fool.

Odelia shrugged.“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Chase had returned.“Lady across the street just told me the weirdest thing. Said she saw Daisy enter the house this morning, then walk in again two hours later, only she never saw her leave.”

“Of course not. She fell down the stairs.”

“No, before that. She walked in, and then she walked in again.”

Odelia frowned, then shook her head.“Wait, what?”

“She said she saw Daisy enter the house at eight, after going for her morning run, which the neighbor, whose name is Mrs. Smithers, by the way, says she did every day, rain or shine. And then she saw her enter the house again at nine thirty. Only she says she never saw her leave between eight andnine thirty.”

“What does that mean?”

Chase grinned.“It means Mrs. Smithers is a nosy parker, but an imperfect one. Even nosy parkers have to go the bathroom from time to time, right? They can’t all be seated in front of the window all the time.”

Odelia nodded. In the distance, the sound of an ambulance could be heard. Max and Dooley had returned from their brief perusal of the house.“No pets,” Max announced.

“No mice either,” said Dooley, bringing a smile to Odelia’s face in spite of the circumstances.

“Which means no witnesses,” she murmured.

“Nothing from your cats?” asked Chase, who was used to Odelia’s special relationship with her cats by now.

“Nope, nothing.”

“There is a very strong scent of Maria Power hanging all over the house, though,” said Max. “But that can easily be explained.” He gestured to the stairs. “The woman had a regular shrine to the actress in one of the upstairs rooms.”

Odelia nodded and headed up the stairs. She took a left turn, as Max indicated, and was surprised to find a room completely filled with Maria Power paraphernalia: movie posters, pictures, cups and saucers with her likeness… and a hat once worn by the actress.

“Another Maria Power fan,” she said.

“Yep,” said Max, who’d followed her in. “That name keeps cropping up.”

“I think we better pay a visit to Maria Power herself. Somehow this entire case seems to revolve around her.”

“And gnomes,” said Max. “Don’t forget about the gnomes.”

Chapter 22

All the way to the house of Maria Power, silence hung like a wet blanket over the car. In the backseat, as usual, Dooley and myself. Behind the wheel: Chase, with Odelia riding shotgun. In a second car, following right behind us, was Uncle Alec, who didn’t want to miss this chance to meet the one and only Maria Power for the world.

Odelia and Chase, too, were, judging by the silence, deeply impressed by this unique opportunity to talk to the reclusive actress, who was pretty much an icon in the acting world.

To be absolutely honest it wasn’t meeting the iconic legend of the silver screen I was looking forward to as much as her cats, which I sincerely hoped she owned. But even more than Miss Power’s cats it was their kibble I hoped to lay my paws on. Apart from the nuggets of food Kingman had awarded us, I hadn’t eaten all morning, since the mice had stolen our food, and my belly was making its displeasure known loud and clear.

“I’m hungry,” said Dooley, showing he felt exactly the same way about our upcoming visit.

“Yeah, we really need to fix those mice,” I said. “If this goes on much longer I’ll starve.”

“You can always drop by my place,” said Dooley magnanimously. “Gran makes sure there’s always something to eat, day or night, and we don’t have any mice to deal with.”

“Oh, just you wait and see,” I said. “Pretty soon they’ll expand their hunting ground to Marge and Tex’s place, and then spread out from there. And before you know it they’ll start in on Fifi’s dog chow, and Rufus’s too. Which is all the more reason we have to stick together and deal with them once and for all.”

For a moment, no one spoke, as I contemplated ways and means of‘fixing’ Hector and Helga’s expanding offspring. After a moment, I felt that Dooley was watching me intently. I turned to him and asked, “What?”

“You don’t look so good,” Max,” he said. “In fact you look even worse than you did yesterday.”

“Why, thanks, Dooley. That’s very nice to hear,” I said, not hiding the hint of sarcasm in my voice. Though I doubt whether Dooley picked up on it.

“I’ll tell you another joke,” he announced, and before I could stop him, he said, “A duck, a shuck and a chuck walk into a bar…”

I held up my paw to stop him in his tracks.“Shucks don’t walk into bars. They have no feet.”

“Just listen,” he said. “You’ll laugh very much, and that’s exactly what you need. So a duck, a shuck and a chuck walk into a bar. ‘Say, listen,’ says the chuck. ‘I sold a truck for a buck to a cluck. What does that make me?’ Both the duck and the shuck shrug. Then the bartender says, ‘You sold a truck to a cluck for a buck? You know what that makes you?’ ‘What?’ ‘A shmuck.’” My friend laughed loudly, presumably to show me how it was done.

I, on the other hand, didn’t laugh at all. Frankly I didn’t get the joke, which is what I told Dooley.

“That’s because you’re not in the right frame of mind,” he said. “Oh, Max. I worry about you. I worry a lot. And worrying is not good. We should be laughing, and having fun. It’s the only way to make sure that we don’t get—”

And I was sure he would have said a great deal more, but the car had arrived at its destination, and Chase leaned out of the window to address the unknown person in charge of opening the gate. It was one of those very tall and eerie gates, with the pointy spikes on top, to keep unwanted visitors out at all cost. It reminded me of that Hitchcock movie Rebecca, and the words‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again,’ popped into my head and I shivered slightly.

Chase’s bona fides satisfactorily established, the gate crept open with a creaking sound, and soon Chase’s squad car was moving along a long and winding drive, crunching gravel as it did.

We pulled up to a large mansion that looked just as creepy as the front gate, with turrets on either side of the structure, and tall windows deeply set in gray stone that had blackened with age.

“Creepy,” Dooley said, and that was exactly the word to describe Miss Power’s home.

We got out of the car, and as we did suddenly a figure appeared in the tall entry doors. She was slim and gray-haired and looked sixty-ish. Presumably the housekeeper, I thought, but as we set paw in her direction, it was Uncle Alec, who’d parked right behind us, who corrected my mistake when he exclaimed, a distinct tremor of emotion in his voice, “Miss Power. An honor, ma’am. An absolute honor.”

The former actress nodded once, a tight smile on her lips, and stepped back to welcome us inside.

It only took me two seconds to ascertain that she was one of those rare people who didn’t own a cat, and three seconds to determine that what she did own was a dog, which filled me with joy and apprehension in equal measure. Joy because I don’t mind having a stab at a nice bowl of dog kibble from time to time, and apprehension because I had the distinct impression it was one of those big and scary dogs. The kind that can eat a cat whole and will do so without batting an eye.

“Please step through,” said the actress, who was dressed in simple garb: a long dark skirt and a gray blouse with a nice big brooch. She was also wearing a scarf around her neck, flat black shoes and looked just about as unglamorous as humanly possible.

“She doesn’t look like a famous actress,” Dooley whispered.

“I thought she was the housekeeper,” I confessed.

“I thought she was a lady butler.”

We both grinned a little, and as we followed the humans into what I figured was a drawing or sitting room, suddenly Maria Power directed a critical look at both Dooley and me and said,“Cats! How did they get in!”

“Oh, they’re mine,” Odelia was quick to say. “I hope you don’t mind. They more or less go everywhere I go.” When Miss Power gave her a penetrating look that said she minded a great deal, she quickly added, “If you don’t want them in the house I can leave them outside.”

“I would indeed prefer if they didn’t come in,” said Miss Power. “I’m quite allergic to cats.” And to show us what she meant, she sneezed.

Moments later we were relegated to the great outdoors, the door closed in our faces, and my affection for Maria Power, not great to begin with, dropped to an even lower level.

“I don’t think I like her very much,” Dooley said.

“No, me neither,” I said. As a rule I don’t like anyone who doesn’t like me. It seems fair that way. Though I probably should have made an exception for Miss Power, as she couldn’t help being allergic to cats. Then again, for a woman who owned a dog it was very strange that she would be allergic to us, and not her silly mutt. Although someone had once told me that there are dog breeds that don’t trigger an allergic reaction in humans who are otherwise allergic to anything with four legs and plenty of fur on top.

“Let’s go around the back,” I suggested. “Check out this place.” And of course report back to Odelia when we were through.

And maybe, just maybe, find that elusive bite to eat.

Chapter 23

Odelia was properly impressed as she took a seat in the opulently appointed sitting room, where Maria Power had taken her guests. She could tell from their demeanor that both Chase and Uncle Alec were equally intimidated by being in the presence of greatness, as they were uncharacteristically quiet.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” asked the actress, adopting a formal tone, her face displaying no emotion whatsoever.

She looked very well preserved for her age, Odelia thought as she studied the woman. She was seventy now, having retired when she was in her late fifties, after an illustrious career, but she could hardly detect any wrinkles on her smooth brow, and only a few crow’s feet around the eyes and a certain thinness of skin that revealed her age. And the gray hair, of course, which she wore in a short bob.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Miss Power,” said Chase, taking charge of the interview, as Uncle Alec seemed too tongue-tied to proceed, “but there has been a series of dramatic incidents in town. First a woman was found murdered in Dan Goory’s office—Dan is the editor of the Hampton Cove Gazette, and also, and probably more importantly, the president of the Gnomeos, a fan club dedicated to your work. Then this morning Jack Warner was murdered. Jack was the president of the Maria Power Society. Both Heather Gallop and Jack Warner were bludgeoned to death with a garden gnome, andin both instances the most likely suspect seems to be Dan Goory.”

“So the head of one of my fan clubs killed the head of another club. How strange,” said Miss Power, tilting her head to one side a little and displaying a slight smile.

“Well, we have reason to believe the case is more complicated than that,” Chase continued. “You see, the murder of Jack Warner was witnessed by a hotel cleaner, and soon after she made a statement to that effect she was found dead.”

Miss Power lifted one eyebrow fractionally.“Also murdered by Mr. Goory, I presume?”

“Well, no. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck.”

“An accident. How unfortunate.” She paused. “I still don’t see what all this has to do with me.”

“Well, we have reason to believe that Mr. Goory may be innocent.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I’ve known Dan a long time,” said Odelia. “You see I work for him, and I find it hard to believe he would suddenly have turned into a serial killer overnight.”

“Most people have hidden depths and I’m sure your Mr. Goory is no different.” The actress turned to Uncle Alec. “Do you also believe that Mr. Goory is innocent of these crimes, Chief Lip?”

Uncle Alec hemmed and hawed for a moment, clearing his throat noisily, then finally confessed,“All the evidence seems to point to him as the culprit, Miss Power.” He darted a quick glance in Odelia’s direction. “But if my niece believes in his innocence…”

“Odelia has always had an unfailing intuition for these things,” Chase explained.

“And I guess we owe it to Dan to conduct a thorough investigation,” Uncle Alec continued. “To make absolutely certain there’s not a shadow of a doubt as far as his guilt is concerned.”

Miss Power shifted in her seat.“You still haven’t told me what brought you here.”

“Well, this entire case seems to revolve around your person, Miss Power,” said Uncle Alec. “First Dan was approached by a woman who claimed to have something very interesting to share, and used the word ‘Gnomeo’ to describe what she had to offer, then Jack Warner arranged a meeting with Dan, presumably to bury the hatchet, as he and Dan have been at each other’s throats since their respective clubs’ inception, and finally, the cleaner who’s the only witness to Dan’s crime turns out to have been an avid fan of yours as well. She had an entire room dedicated to you, with a hatyou once wore as the highlight of her collection, so…”

“So you wanted to know what I thought of this whole thing,” Miss Power said, nodding. “Well, as you may or may not know I’ve retired from the movie business many years ago, and have kept myself to myself ever since. I don’t go out, I don’t meet people, so unfortunately I never had the pleasure of meeting either Mr. Goory or Mr. Warner or this young woman who died. If I had I could perhaps have offered you my opinion. What I can say is that for some reason or other my work has always inspired a great deal of excitement—rightly or wrongly, I leave that to others to decide. Men have fought over me, especially when I was younger, women have fought with me, especially the women who were married to these same men.” She smiled. “I find it hard to believe that now, a little over a decade after I retired, people are still capable of getting worked up over my legacy—the modestbody of work I left behind.”

“So you think that’s what this is?” asked Odelia. “People getting all worked up and even going so far as to resort to murder?”

Miss Power lifted her shoulders in a shrug.“I don’t know how else to explain it. One woman presumably had some objects to sell, and the president of the Gnomeos—silly name, if you ask me, by the way—killed her, presumably because he didn’t want to pay what she was asking. And then the president of one fan club killed the presidentof another fan club, possibly because of some argument over who was my most devoted fan. Frankly it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve seen people act even more viciously over my perceived talents.”

She gazed out through the window for a moment, and Odelia had the impression she was thinking of one particular incident. As she remembered herself, Maria Power’s third husband had once struck a man he thought was her lover, and had rendered him unconscious in the process. There had even been a much-hyped trial at the time, damages demanded and awarded. Maybe the actress was right. Her presence had whipped people, both men and women, into a frenzy over the course of her long and illustrious career, and apparently her memory still possessed this power to this day.

“Do you keep up to date on the events organized to commemorate your career?” Odelia asked. “Like the retrospective at the Seabreeze Music Center?”

“No, I certainly don’t,” said Miss Power, returning to the present, her pale blue eyes losing that dreamlike quality and turning flinty. This was clearly a woman who’d been through a lot, and had had quite enough. So much so that she’d decided to turn her back on the world and lock herself up in her own home. Odelia wondered what kind of life she must have led to inspire such an ignoble finale. Probably no one would ever know.

“I was there last night,” Uncle Alec revealed. “Me and my girlfriend, both dressed up as gnomes.” He smiled at the memory.

Miss Power didn’t. “I really don’t understand this Gnomeo business,” she said. “I certainly never did anything to encourage being associated with that dreadful movie.”

“Oh, but by all accounts it must have been a great movie,” said Uncle Alec. “Rupert Finkelstein’s final film. Not a single copy having survived. It’s probably the most sought-after film in the history of cinema.”

“I can tell you there was nothing special about it,” said Miss Power, now looking thoroughly annoyed. “It was probably for the best that Rupert destroyed it. It was a terrible ordeal to make the movie and the result was in keeping with the experience.”

“It did establish you as a star,” Chase pointed out. He’d clearly been reading up on Miss Power’s career.

“Yes, that’s about the only positive aspect of the matter. Apart from that, I’d much rather forget about the whole thing—only those damned Gnomeos will never let me. I suppose I should be grateful, but I fail to see the point. Now if there’s nothing further…”

She got up, a clear indication the interview was over, as far as she was concerned.

“I’d like to thank you for your time,” said Uncle Alec, also getting up. “It’s been an honor. I’m a big fan,” he added, then took out his phone. “A selfie, maybe?”

But the look of disapproval on Miss Power’s face and the curt shake of the head soon made it clear there would be no selfies taken today—or any other day.

Five minutes later they’d all been ushered out, slightly reeling from the speed with which they’d been shown the door. It was clear that Maria Power was done with her own past, and she didn’t appreciate being dragged back to it.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of her own fan clubs,” said Chase, stating the obvious.

“No, she made that pretty clear,” said Odelia.

“Pity,” said Uncle Alec. “It would have been nice to welcome her as the guest of honor at the retrospective. It would be a big boost for the town. Charlene asked me specifically to pose the question, but I guess I’ll have to disappoint her.”

The prospect of Maria Power showing her famous face at a retrospective of her own work was an exciting one, but also, it now seemed, highly unlikely.

Odelia glanced around, wondering where her cats were. Too bad she hadn’t been able to take them inside. Then again, since the interview had been an absolute bust, there probably wasn’t much they could have learned either.

“Max!” she called out. “Dooley! Where are you guys!”

When after a couple of minutes they still hadn’t answered her call, she was starting to get a little worried. And when Miss Power appeared in the window and made an angry sign for them to leave already, her heart sank. She hated leaving without Max and Dooley. Then again, they couldn’t very well stick around against the actress’s wishes.

So it was with a heavy heart that she got into the car, and Chase drove off.

She hoped her cats would be fine… and find their way home all right.

Chapter 24

It didn’t take us long to discover that Maria Power was a movie star unlike other movie stars. For one thing we found no trace of a pool behind the house, or a Jacuzzi or sauna. The gardens were also pretty straightforward for a member of the Hollywood elite. No private zoo, no exotic animals lurking anywhere, and no tigers or anything of the kind.

“It doesn’t look like the home of a film star,” Dooley remarked. “It looks more like the house of a retired CEO of a multinational corporation.”

“Yeah, looks like Maria likes to keep things pretty simple,” I agreed. I looked around for a way to enter the house from the back, preferably the kitchen, where usually food can be found, all the while making sure I kept an eye out for the dog I’d sniffed before.

I wanted to have a bite to eat, but that didn’t mean I wanted to become dog food.

Suddenly a door was opened and I said,“Dooley! Let’s go!”

It was one of the servants who’d popped out for a smoke, and left the door open. So we quickly scooted inside and found, to our extreme elation, that we were in the kitchen.

There was nothing sober or simple about the kitchen, though. On the contrary, it was big and loaded with gleaming appliances, two kitchen islands, modern equipment, wall-to-wall cupboards and enough pots and pans dangling from hooks to feed a small army. All in all, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Nancy Meyers movie, and just as I was wondering when Meryl Streep or Diane Keaton were going to come walking in, a woman entered who looked so much like a cook she could have starred in a movie as one.

She started chopping veggies on one of the kitchen islands, and before she noticed our presence, we decided to skedaddle. Next to the kitchen was a second, smaller space, where usually, in most households of this caliber, the pets are fed. Not here, though, as we found ourselves in a pantry, full of shelves laden with foodstuffs. No dog or cat food was in evidence, though, much to our disappointment.

And we probably would have walked out again, if I hadn’t detected a strange odor that I nevertheless immediately recognized.

“Mice,” I said, a grim expression creeping up my face.

“See, Max?” said Dooley. “Even the rich and famous have mice.”

If his statement was designed to soothe and comfort, its effect was lost on me. Instead it served to increase my antipathy toward the critters.

And as if reading my mind suddenly a tiny nose came peeping from underneath the shelves, soon followed by a tiny body. But when the mouse spoke, it didn’t do so in an equally tiny voice. Instead, it boomed, “Why, if it ain’t cats! What are you fellas doing here?!”

“We’re visitors,” I said in measured tones, as I didn’t want to pick a fight with this mouse simply because of its species.

“Looking for food, I presume,” said the mouse, still in that same hale and hearty manner, which for some reason got my back up even more.

“Well, we wouldn’t mind having a bite to eat, Mr. Mouse,” said Dooley. “We haven’t eaten since this morning, and we’re both very hungry, I don’t mind telling you.”

The mouse chuckled—actually chuckled!

“Look, mice have stolen our food, and as a consequence we didn’t enjoy a full breakfast,” I said, a little frostily. “So your cheerfulness is highly out of place.”

“Mice have stolen your food, huh? Is that a fact now?”

“Yes, that is a fact, so you’ll forgive me for not being a big fan of your kind, sir.”

“First off, I’m not a sir, I’m a lady. Secondly, you can’t go around blaming the behavior of a few rogue elements on the entire species, now can you?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” I said, slightly taken aback. I’d never heard a female mouse speak with such forcefulness before, and it struck me that as far as mice went, I was still pretty much a novice.

“Look, if you want to eat, I can offer you a variety of dishes,” said the mouse, much to my surprise. She pointed to various foodstuffs on the shelves. “We also have a nice assortment of cheeses in the fridge. You have your Cheddar, your Gouda, your Parmesan. Or if you prefer the softer cheeses, I’ve got you covered too. Humboldt Fog, Bergenost, Red Hawk, Monterey Jack… Oh, and cream cheese, of course. Always a favorite.”

When I told the mouse I wasn’t into cheese all that much, and neither was Dooley, she registered surprise. “Then you haven’t tasted these cheeses yet. They are to die for.”

And she tripped out of the pantry and into the kitchen, neatly avoiding being stepped on by the cook, and resolutely making her way to yet another room. After a moment, her head popped out again, and she shouted,“Well, what are you waiting for, cats?!”

So we followed her, and found ourselves in a room with no less than three fridges and two freezers.

“Now this is where you guys come in,” said the mouse. “I could open these myself, but it’s hard going, what with that suction thingy, which is really annoying, if you ask me. Whoever designed these fridges clearly didn’t think of us poor mice. So pop this one open and let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

I did as she said, and before long I was sampling some of the best cheese I’d eaten my entire life.

“I have to admit you were absolutely right,” I said. “This is some pretty good stuff.”

“Right?” she said proudly, then stuck out a paw. “My name is Elsa, by the way, and I’m pleased to meet you, cat.”

“Max,” I said. “And this is Dooley.”

Just then, Elsa hissed,“Hide!” And promptly scooted behind a stack of boxes, quickly followed by Dooley and me. I could see the cook opening the fridge and then closing it again.

“Phew. That was close,” said Elsa, as she wiped the perspiration from her brow. “She’s never caught me once, and it would be too bad if she caught me now, since I have the pleasure of two guests.”

“Why are you being so nice to us?” asked Dooley. “You don’t even know us.”

Elsa gave another one of her hearty laughs.“You just say whatever comes into your head, don’t you? Why wouldn’t I be nice? There’s plenty of food for the three of us, and I enjoy the company for a change. It’s not much fun being the only mouse in the house.”

“You’re the only mouse here?” I asked.

“Yep. Never found the right one, I suppose, to start a little family and settle down.”

“There’s two hundred mice living in our basement,” said Dooley. “And they eat all of our food, and all of our human’s food, too.”

“Two hundred. Now that’s what I call a nice big family. Your humans must be really hospitable people.”

“Well, they are,” I said. “But even they think it’s a little much.”

“Yeah, I suppose two hundred can be taxing for your regular homeowner,” said Elsa, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“We’ve been trying to negotiate with them,” I explained. “Ask them to move out. Or if they decide to stay, at least not to eat all of the food. But they refuse. They figure they have just as much right to stay as we do. So they’re not budging. And now my human is upset with me, figuring since I’m a cat I should be able to keep the house mouse-free, if you see what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” said Elsa. “Though of course I used to live with a dog, and I never had any problems. We respected one another and had a great time.”

“What happened to the dog?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, he died. Last month. Great tragedy it was, too. Maria was crazy about Boomer.”

“What kind of dog was he?” I asked.

“Maltese. Very clever, and a real gentledog, too. Always let me share his food, and let me tell you, if you like this food you should have seen what Maria gave Boomer to eat. Only the very best of the very best. Gourmet stuff.” She shook her head sadly. “Yeah, it hasn’t been much fun with Boomer gone.”

“You should come and live with us,” said Dooley. “I mean,” he added, with a glance in my direction, “what’s one more mouse?”

“Dooley!” I hissed. “We’re trying to get rid of the mice, not add more to the pack!”

“But Elsa is not like the other mice,” he said. “She’s one of the nice mice.”

“You know what?” said Elsa. “I could join you guys and have a word with this Hector and Helga, if you like. I’m sure I could come to some sort of arrangement if you let me. Mice, after all, don’t listen to cats, but they might listen to a fellow mouse.”

I had to admit there was something to be said for this. And if things didn’t work out, she could always come back to live at Maria’s place.

“All right,” I said finally. “You can come. But only if you promise to behave.”

She laughed again.“Behave! Max, I’m the best-behaved mouse you know!”

And with this, we shook paws on it.

Chapter 25

“Are you sure?” asked Fifi. The little Yorkie didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” said Harriet.

“But what am I going to tell them?”

Brutus and Harriet and Fifi were in conference in Odelia’s backyard, Fifi having absconded from her own backyard through one of the holes she liked to dig. Her human, Kurt Mayfield, a retired music teacher, always patched up the holes, only for Fifi simply to dig another one. She didn’t like to be confined to her own backyard, and liked to socializewith the cats next door, much to Kurt’s dismay, as he was a lot less fond of those same cats, especially when they broke into song, which he often responded to by throwing his shoes in their direction as a way of showing his lack of appreciation.

Brutus thought they should probably leave Fifi in peace. He didn’t see how a small dog would succeed where a big dog had failed. Then again, once Harriet had an idea in her head, it was very hard to get it out again, at least until she’d brought it to fruition, often with disastrous consequences.

“You simply tell them they have to leave,” said Harriet. “I’m sure they’ll listen to you.”

“When?” asked Fifi. “When do you want to do this?” She still wasn’t fully on board, Brutus could tell.

“No time like the present,” said Harriet cheerfully.

“What, you want to do this now?!” asked Fifi, looking horrified by the prospect of having to use her powers of persuasion to dislodge two hundred mice from the house.

“Yes, why not? Better get it over with,” said Harriet. “Like a band-aid,” she added.

“A band-aid?” asked the little doggie dubiously.

“Yeah, you have to pull it off quickly. That way it’s not so bad.”

Fifi, who probably never in her life had had a band-aid applied to her corpus, gave Harriet a look that spoke volumes about what she thought of her plan. Still, she followed them into the house when invited, and in the direction of the basement when suggested. She paused on the top step, though, now clearly suffering from a bout of stage fright.

“They’re not… violent, are they?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” said Harriet. “They’re quite peaceful. Very friendly. You’ll see.”

How a dog who was afraid of mice was going to scare them into leaving Odelia’s home was obviously not a thought that occurred to Harriet, and it wasn’t a question Brutus was prepared to raise. Still, as he watched Fifi walk down the stairs, one careful step at a time, the thought ‘dead dog walking’ suddenly came to mind.

“Stop!” suddenly another voice yelled, this one not in Brutus’s head but coming from behind him.

He turned, and so did Harriet and Fifi.

Much to Brutus’s surprise, it was none other than Shanille who’d graced them with her presence.

Shanille, leader of cat choir and Father Reilly’s cat, seldom paid house calls.

It also surprised Harriet, and not in a good way.“What are you doing here?” she growled.

Harriet and Shanille rarely saw eye to eye. Shanille often found fault with Harriet’s nightly solo performances she insisted on giving, and Harriet, who hated criticism of her God-given talents, didn’t like the comments her choir leader habitually directed at her.

“Kingman told me about your predicament,” said Shanille, a little stiffly. “He told me you’ve been suffering from a mice infestation and suggested I pay you a visit. See what I can do.”

“What you can do! Excuse me, Shanille, but we don’t need your help. We have everything under control.”

Shanille directed a critical look at the mess the mice had made of the kitchen, with pieces of cheese having dropped by the industrious mice, forming a trail all the way from the kitchen to the basement door.“Yeah, I can see you do,” she said, then pressed her lips together primly.

“We have our secret weapon right here,” said Harriet, gesturing to Fifi, who’d retraced her steps and was now among them once more, and looking suspiciously relieved at this stay of execution.

“A dog?” asked Shanille. “You’re going to send a dog to do a cat’s job? Oh, dear. This is so much worse than I thought. No wonder Kingman asked for my help.”

“Kingman should mind his own business,” Harriet snapped. “And frankly so should you, Shanille. Fifi, go ahead.”

But the little Yorkie gave them such a look of anguish Brutus decided to intervene.“Why don’t we give Shanille a chance to see what she can do?” he suggested. “She is, after all, Father Reilly’s cat.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” asked Harriet.

“I have religion on my side,” Shanille said, giving Harriet a supercilious look. “And that’s a lot more than I can say about you.”

And with these words, she passed by a furious-looking Harriet and stepped into the basement.

Brutus followed from a distance, and Harriet brought up the rear, with Fifi deciding to occupy the top step, giving her a fighting chance to make a run for it in case things turned ugly.

“What are they called again?” asked Shanille once they were down in the basement.

“Helga and Hector,” Brutus supplied helpfully.

“Hector? Helga? A word, please?” said Shanille briskly.

Immediately the mouse couple appeared, as did about a hundred of their offspring, taking Shanille by surprise.

“Oh, my,” she said as she saw the sea of mice surrounding them.

“Who are you?” asked Hector, nibbling from a piece of cheese Brutus was pretty sure had been in the fridge only an hour ago.

“My name is Shanille, and I wanted to have a little chat with you. From one of God’s creatures to another, and with the blessing of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, who loves us all unconditionally and in equal measure.”

Hector frowned and turned to Brutus.“What is she talking about?”

“Shanille is Father Reilly’s cat,” Brutus explained. “And she has an important message for you.”

“Well, speak up,” said Helga. “I don’t have all day.”

“I have a proposition for you all,” said Shanille, taking a seat and carefully draping her tail around her buttocks. She didn’t look completely at ease, Brutus thought, and he could see why. More mice had appeared and Hector and Helga’s family was now all present and accounted for, filling the basement. In fact he couldn’t see the floor through the ocean of gray.

“What proposition?” asked Helga suspiciously.

“A way for all of you to live together in perfect harmony,” said Shanille pleasantly. “As you know, this home belongs to Odelia, and she has been so kind as to invite a number of cats to live with her. What she didn’t do is invite you lovely mice to share her home. But being the wonderful, God-fearing woman that she is, she was so gracious to let you stay here regardless. But through no fault of your own, this arrangement isn’t, um, convenient for her anymore. She appreciates you, and wants you to know she loves all creatures, great and small, just like the good Lord does, but she now suggests you and your family relocate to another, more suitable location, and leave her and my fellow felines the house.”

There was a moment of silence, then raucous laughter filled the air, as it rose up from two hundred throats.

“You must be crazy!” cried Hector loudly, slapping his tiny thighs with mirth.

“Yeah, you’re one big crazy cat if you think we’re going to accept such an arrangement,” chimed in his wife.

“I have a better idea,” said Hector, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Why don’tyou move to a more suitable location and we’ll take the entire house. How about that, huh?”

“Yeah, that’sour proposition,” said Helga.

“Take it or leave it!”

“Why you little brutes,” Shanille growled, suddenly a lot less kindly than before. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. You barge in here and think you can simply take over the house? Shame on you!”

“Oh, get lost,” said Hector, making a throwaway gesture with his paw.

“Yeah, take a hike, sister,” said Helga, and in a matter of seconds the basement was empty again, the mice flowing into those little holes with unparalleled speed and coordination.

Shanille was gently fuming, her chest rising and falling rapidly.“Of all the impertinent, annoying, disgraceful…” she began.

“See what we’re up against?” asked Brutus.

Harriet gently placed an arm around Shanille’s shoulder. “You know what you should do, Shanille?” she asked.

“What?” grunted the choir director.

“Say a little prayer,” said Harriet sweetly. “I’m sure it’ll make all the difference.”

“Oh, go to hell,” growled Shanille, and was off.

Chapter 26

Three people were sitting in Chief Alec’s office and none of them looked particularly happy. There was Alec himself, of course, his deputy Chase Kingsley, and also Alec’s niece Odelia, who was pretty much part of the team.

“Let’s review the facts as we know them,” said Alec as he dragged a weary hand through what few hairs remained on his scalp.

Odelia’s uncle had called the meeting because of his dissatisfaction with the investigation, as he called it. He had a very good suspect in jail, who looked perfect for the two murders, but there were several small things that made him uneasy in his mind.

“First off, the murder of Heather Gallop. No phone was found, either on her person, or in her hotel room, and yet she’d called Dan and set up an appointment.”

“Unless Dan stole her phone,” Odelia offered.

“We would have found it,” said Alec. “We searched both his office and his house from top to bottom and found nothing out of the ordinary, except a ridiculous number of gnomes, too many for a grown man to feel comfortable collecting, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“My dad collects gnomes,” Odelia pointed out. “And he’s not afraid to admit it.”

“The UPS guy, who wasn’t a UPS guy,” Alec continued. “Highly suspicious if you ask me, as was the phone call to lure Dan out of his office.”

“Presumably to give the killer, dressed as a UPS guy, enough time to sneak into his office and murder Heather,” said Chase.

“Two. Jack Warner’s murder. Jack told me only last night that he had important information to share, and wanted me to meet him today. Only he never made it, because he was killed. What information? And was he killed because of it? Also, we haven’t found Jack’s phone yet, which his wife sayshe always carried on his person.”

“And Dan didn’t have this phone either,” said Odelia.

“Unless he dumped it,” Chase said. “On his way out of the hotel.”

Police had searched high and low for that phone, though, and hadn’t found it. So either Dan was the most cunning killer they’d ever met, or he wasn’t Jack’s killer at all, and had been framed. Again. Odelia was inclined to believe the latter, while her uncle and Chase were inclined to believe Dan wasn’t as innocent as he made out to be.

Uncle Alec leaned forward.“Look, “ he said, addressing his niece, “the only evidence about this UPS guy is a cat. A cat who could be mistaken.”

“I don’t think Buster is mistaken,” said Odelia.

Uncle Alec heaved a sigh.“I don’t believe I’m asking this, but what do you know about this Buster? In your opinion, is he a reliable witness?”

“He’s one of Max’s main sources of information. Buster belongs to Fido Siniawski, and as a barber Fido manages to extract more confessions, confidences and gossip from people than any other person in town. And Buster is right there to listen to all of it. So you might say he’s one of the best-informed cats in Hampton Cove. So yes, if Buster says he saw a UPS man enter the office, you can bet that he did.”

Uncle Alec sat back in his chair, which creaked as he shifted his weight. In spite of the diet his new girlfriend had put him on, he still had a long way to go.“You’re putting me in a very tough spot here, honey,” he said finally. “I have everything I need to finger your boss as the killer, except for these loose ends.”

“We could try to find this UPS guy,” Chase suggested. “I mean, is it possible that Buster saw a man who looked like a UPS guy but wasn’t?”

“He says he was wearing the brown uniform with the letters UPS,” said Odelia.

Uncle Alec rubbed his face. He looked haggard. When an investigation wasn’t going well, he often looked as if he’d slept in his clothes and hadn’t had taken a shower in days.

“Look, I’m going to charge Dan.” When Odelia started to protest, he held up his hand. “I’m sorry, but I have no choice. I have a witness who saw him standing over the guy with the murder weapon.”

“A witness who died,” Odelia pointed out. “In suspicious circumstances, I might add.”

“I disagree. The woman fell down the stairs. No indication she was pushed. None whatsoever.”

“I don’t think he did it,” said Odelia stubbornly. “Dan simply isn’t that kind of person.”

“You heard what Maria Power said. People tend to act weird when she’s involved. Men go nuts, and so do women. And I think Heather Gallop had something very valuable to offer Dan, and when they couldn’t agree on the price, he killed her and simply took it.”

“Oh, so now you don’t think she was his girlfriend and he killed her because she wanted to break up with him or because she was pregnant?”

“No, I don’t think she was his girlfriend.”

“Did you manage to get in touch with her folks?” asked Chase.

“Yeah, I did. And get this. She used to work for Rupert Finkelstein’s daughter.”

Both Odelia and Chase sat up a little straighter at this.“The director?” Chase said.

“One and the same. Finkelstein’s daughter died a couple of months ago, and it’s not inconceivable that Heather managed to lay her hands on something very valuable indeed.” he wiggled his bushy brows. “A copy of his famous version of Romeo and Juliet.”

“And that she came to Hampton Cove to interest Dan in that same copy,” said Chase, nodding.

“Which sounds to me like a motive for murder, wouldn’t you agree? Big collector and fan like Dan? I’m sure a guy like that just might stoop to murder for the chance to lay his hands on the most sought-after movie of all time. A copy of the one and only Gnomeo.”

Chapter 27

It was a long way back to town, especially since we were used to going by car, and now had to rely on our own four paws to carry us home. Add to that the fact that a mouse’s paws are even smaller than a cat’s, and it was slow going at first. Then Dooley had the great idea to suggest that Elsa jump on his back and hitch a ride, and so she did.

I wasn’t entirely at ease after that. It’s bad enough for a cat to have to travel in the company of a mouse, but even worse to carry one on one’s back.

If the cat community of Hampton Cove got word of this our names would be mud. Of course they were mud already, after our unsuccessful fight with Hector and Helga.

Very humiliating for a cat to have to declare defeat against a couple of mice.

“So how was it to live with the most famous actress in the world?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn’t have all that much to do with Maria,” said Elsa. “She kept herself to herself, and so did I. But Boomer sometimes told me stories about her.”

“What kind of stories?”

“He found her a little sad,” said Elsa. “Apparently she had a few husbands who didn’t live up to her expectations and left her broken-hearted. So now she prefers to live alone. Well, with a dozen staff to cater to her every need, of course. So she’s not really alone.”

“She was married a lot of times, was she?”

“Oh, sure. Eight husbands, at last count, and all of them up to no good. Swindlers, fraudsters, cheaters, bullies, drunks and druggies, according to Boomer. She never had much luck in that department.”

“Poor woman,” said Dooley.

“No, poor she most definitely is not. She has a nice fortune safely tucked away.”

“We haven’t told you this, but we’re investigating a murder,” I said. “Or in fact two murders, and maybe even three.”

“Murders?” said Elsa, her eyes widening in surprise. “Is that why you were at the house?”

“Yeah, our human is a reporter, and amateur sleuth, and her boyfriend is a detective, so they were there to interview Maria. Though I can’t imagine what they hoped to find. She has a certain involvement with the case, I suppose, but not directly.”

“A woman was murdered by Odelia’s boss,” Dooley explained. “And then yesterday he murdered a man, and then he probably murdered another woman.”

“That’s a lot of murder,” said Elsa, deeply impressed.

“I don’t think Dan murdered the cleaner,” I said. “He was already in police custody by the time she fell down the stairs.”

“He could have popped over and killed her before he was arrested,” said Dooley.

“No, he was apprehended at the hotel, remember? But anyway, Daisy Rayo presumably wasn’t the victim of a crime but of her own clumsy feet. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck,” I explained for Elsa’s sake.

“Oh, right,” said the tiny mouse with the predilection for fine cheeses. I’d have to let Odelia know she needed to stock up on Gouda, Cheddar and Brie. And cream cheese, of course. To make Elsa feel at home. “So your human’s boss is a murderer?” she asked.

“Yeah, looks like,” I said. “Though Odelia isn’t convinced. She thinks Dan may have been set up.”

And he could very well have been. By this mysterious UPS man who wasn’t a UPS man. Though back at the hotel it seemed clear that Dan was the culprit. At any rate, I thought it was time that Odelia brought us up to speed on the investigation. There were gaps in my knowledge of what exactly had happened and what discoveries she’d made.

I blamed this entirely on my preoccupation with Hector and Helga. I simply didn’t have my head in the sleuthing game at this point, and I sincerely hoped Elsa could help us out so I could dedicate my time to helping my human catch killers again.

A cat suddenly stole out of the undergrowth by the side of the road and stared at us.

“Is that… a mouse?” the cat asked, incredulous.

I immediately recognized this passerby as Clarice.

“Um… yes,” I said hesitantly.

The raggedy cat barked an incredulous laugh.“Are you seriously carrying a mouse on your back, Dooley?”

“Her name is Elsa,” said Dooley pleasantly. “And she’s going to help us chase away the mice in our house.”

Clarice frowned and thought about this for a moment.“I think I see what you’re doing. Very clever, Dooley. Use one evil to destroy another evil. Devious. Very devious.”

“For your information, I’m not evil,” said Elsa.

“No, Elsa is very nice,” said Dooley. “She gave us some very tasty cheese to eat.”

Clarice rolled her eyes.“So she bought you. I should have known it was the mouse who’s the clever one, and not you two. Well, carry on, I suppose. It’s your funeral.”

And with these words, she slunk back into the undergrowth and disappeared.

“We should have asked her to help us with Hector and Helga,” said Dooley.

“She would have said no,” I said. “Brutus already asked her and she refused.”

“Maybe she changed her mind.”

“Doubtful.”

“Was that a friend of yours?” asked Elsa.

“Yeah, Clarice. She’s a feral cat,” I said.

“She’s very nice, and very sweet if you get to know her,” said Dooley.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I want to,” said Elsa with a shiver. “She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, Clarice has that effect on mice,” I said. “And cats. And people. Well, pretty much on everyone, I guess.”

“She eats rats whole,” said Dooley admiringly. “She simply gobbles them up and swallows them down. You have to see it to believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it,” said Elsa, who clearly wasn’t a fan of Clarice.

And so we continued our long trek into town. I sincerely hoped that next time Odelia would stick around long enough to take us back by car. Not much fun to have a human with a car if she’s going to desert you in the middle of nowhere, I mean to say.

Chapter 28

Odelia had just stepped out of the police station when a woman approached her. She looked in her late fifties, with a pronounced nose and chin, large glasses and a slight overbite.

“Odelia Poole?” asked the woman.

“Yes,” said Odelia, stopping in her tracks.

“Um… could I please have a word with you, Miss Poole? It concerns the Gnomeos.”

“Of course,” said Odelia immediately, and gestured to the town square, where a couple of benches had been placed for people to repose and enjoy the, frankly quite hideous, statue of one of Hampton Cove’s former mayors.

They took a seat in the shade and the woman looked around nervously for a moment. She was dressed in a gray woolen suit that looked absolutely uncomfortable and entirely too hot for the kind of weather they’d been having. Even now the sun was out in full force, and even in her flowery summer cotton dress Odelia was feeling hot.

“My name is Jacqueline Goossens,” said the woman, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And I’m a member of the Gnomeos. Have been since its inception. I’m also a member of the Maria Power Society.”

“Oh, so you’re in both clubs?”

“Yes, which is perhaps a little strange, as the heads of the clubs have been mortal enemies for years. The thing is… I read about the murder of Jack Warner, and that Dan Goory was arrested?”

Odelia nodded encouragingly.“And you have information that can help Dan?”

“Oh, no,” said the woman. “I have information that is probably damning for him.” She looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your boss and all, and you probably don’t want to hear this, but…” She swallowed uncomfortably, then went on, “The thing is, I would reallyprefer not to go to the police. I don’t care for the attention, and this case is going to attract a lot of attention.”