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“God, Max, you startled me!” she said, a hand on her heart and a smile on her face.

I noticed how her cheeks were red and her eyes were shiny. Maybe she was coming down with something? She looked a little feverish to me.

“We have something very important to ask you, Marge,” said Dooley.

“Oh? And what is that?” she said, her eyes once more returning to her screen, where I now saw she was reading a book online. It looked like a tome about a topic that interested me. The title was ‘In Love with the Wrong Man.’ And the author was one Lucinda Luscious.

“Love,” said Dooley succinctly.

“Love,” Marge repeated dreamily as her fingers played with her wedding band.

“We want to find out if there is one true love for all of us,” I explained, “and especially for us, since it may come as a surprise to you, but Dooley and I are currently in between true loves.”

“What are you saying, Max!” Dooley whispered. “I’ve never had a true love in my life, and neither have you!”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that,” I whispered back.

“Okay,” said my friend, and we both directed an eager look at our human, who was once again engrossed in her book, which must have been pretty fascinating.

“Since you and Tex have been together for so long,” I continued, when not a lot of comment seemed forthcoming from Marge, “we were wondering what the secret of true love might be.”

“And we think you are the one person who can tell us,” Dooley added.

But Marge’s attention was riveted to the screen, her cheeks reddening even more, as her breath came in shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Dooley now focused on that same screen and narrowed his eyes.“Max?”

“Mh?”

“What does it mean when ‘he undressed her quickly, cupping her full—‘”

“Yes, thank you!” I cried, and immediately turned my friend around and started walking him away from this obvious den of inequity.

“What was that all about, Max?” he asked once we were at a safe distance. “Why is this person cupping her full whatever?”

“I’m not sure, Dooley,” I said, “but it’s got nothing to do with what we came here for.” At any rate, it showed us that Marge, when she wasn’t enjoying her one true love’s attentions at home, was immersed in a more cerebral experience of that eternal bond of love and devotion between a man and a woman. In other words: our librarian liked to read steamy romance when she wasn’t working.

I didn’t know whether to be appalled or happy for her. Clearly she enjoyed these fictitious adventures as recorded by Lucinda Luscious immensely. Which made me wonder: if Tex really was her one true love, why was she reading about other men enjoying steamy romance with other women? It just made no sense.

And since we had nowhere we needed to be at that time, we decided to continue our trek into town, and continue our quest for the truth about love.

Someone somewhere had to know something about the topic. Right?

CHAPTER 7

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We happened to pass by the doctor’s office, where Tex likes to practice his healing skills on the population of our fair town. And since Tex is a doctor, and doctors are known to know stuff that others don’t—why else study so long and hard—we headed in to see if the good doctor couldn’t inspire us to find the truth.

His waiting room was filled with people. And when I say people, I mean women. Like us, all truth seekers, no doubt, eager to have speech with Tex, and all of them dressed up for the occasion, which struck me as odd. I mean, when you’re sick, why bother dressing up? When I’m sick and have to pay a visit to the vet, I don’t bother looking spiffy. I just hope Vena will be able to get me well again, no matter how bedraggled my appearance. But these ladies all looked their best.

The door to Tex’s inner office was slightly ajar, and so we wended our way inside, to see the doctor.

Tex was seated at the edge of his desk, chatting amiably with a very beautiful young lady, who was dressed in a rather provocative dress, leaning forward and obviously enjoying the doctor’s attentions and ministrations a great deal.

“And so I told Randy I’m too young to have a baby, you know,” she was saying.

“I think you’re absolutely right,” said Tex. “So you tell Randy to relax. Cause once that baby arrives, things are gonna change. And I speak from experience!”

They both laughed, and then laughed some more, and I truly wondered what exactly ailed her, since she didn’t look sick at all, if you know what I mean. Of course it was entirely possible that she had been sick when she walked in, and Tex had already cured her, through his extensive knowledge of medicine.

“I can’t believe you have a kid of your own, who already has a kid herself!”

“Yes, I’m a grandpa now,” said Tex, nodding.

“You don’t look like a grandpa to me!” said the girl.

“Gee, thanks,” said Tex. Then he laughed some more.

“A sexy grandpa,” said the girl, then also laughed some more.

“What are they laughing about, Max?” asked Dooley as we studied the scene.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe she was sick and he cured her and now they’re both very happy?”

Suddenly Tex caught sight of Dooley and me and almost fell from his desk. He quickly hurried back to his chair, cleared his throat, put his glasses on his nose and said,“So, Miss Burnett, I think that takes care of that, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, it certainly does,” said Miss Burnett with a coy smile. Then she saw us and cooed, “Oh, look at those two little pussies! Are they yours, Doctor Poole?”

“No, they’re my wife’s,” said Tex, now looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

Miss Burnett didn’t seem to like this answer one bit, for she gave me a cold sort of look, checked her cleavage, and said, “Well, I guess we’re done here, then?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Tex, and moved straight into the monetary aspects of the transaction. Moments later, Miss Burnett had cleared off, and after Tex had carefully closed the door, he crouched down next to us, his knees slightly creaking in the process, and said earnestly, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but nothing happened between me and Sue Burnett, all right? Absolutely nothing.”

“I know, Tex,” I said. “The only thing that happened is that you took away Miss Burnett’s pain, and she was very happy about it and not shy to tell you.”

“Sometimes patients just need a little more… personal attention,” he continued.

“Oh, I know,” I said. “And she seemed to need a lot of it, your Miss Burnett.”

“Sue and Randy are in a difficult place right now, and she looks on me as a, um, well, as a father figure. Since her own dad died when she was very little.”

“Father figure. Gotcha,” I said.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” said Tex as he patted my head and tickled Dooley under the chin. “I’d give you some candy if I had any. Or is that dogs? Or kids?”

“I think it’s kids,” I said. “Though the days of giving candy to kids are probably long gone, Tex.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, getting up again and opening the door. “I have other patients to attend to.”

“I know, and they all look as eager as Sue Burnett,” I assured the doctor.

But then we took our leave and the next patient walked in, giving the doctor a big smile, which he returned in his own avuncular way.

Once outside, Dooley turned to me.“Why didn’t you ask him about true love?”

“For one thing, Tex can’t understand us, Dooley. And for another, I don’t think Tex has found true love yet. Or else he wouldn’t be flirting with Sue Burnett.”

“What’s flirting, Max?”

“It’s talking in a slightly frivolous manner to a member of the other sex, letting them know you’re interested in getting to know them a little better—or a lot.”

“But… Tex is married, Max.”

“I know, Dooley. Which is why this is all very confusing, wouldn’t you agree?”

He shook his head sadly.“Everything is confusing to me, Max. All the time.”

CHAPTER 8

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We’d arrived in town, and found ourselves ending up at Fido Siniawksi’s shop. Fido is a hairstylist, and his cat Buster one of our closest friends. When we arrived, the mayor of Hampton Cove had just taken place in one of Fido’s chairs, and was entrusting her hirsute needs to the man’s extremely capable hands.

“Hey, Buster,” I said as we strolled in.

“Max, Dooley,” said Buster, who was lying on the windowsill, from where he liked to watch the world go by. Buster is always a fount of information about the goings-on in our town, since at some point every person needs to have their hair cut—except for the people who have no hair, of course.

“You don’t look so happy,” said Buster, after subjecting us to a closer scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, this and that,” I said, not wanting to wash our dirty linen in public. If I told Buster about what we’d encountered that morning, within hours the story would do the rounds of Hampton Cove’s cat community, and we would never hear the end of it for weeks or even months to come. That is perhaps one disadvantage about living in a small town: everybody is always in everybody else’s business.

Charlene Butterwick was in a particularly good mood. She was smiling and giggling at Fido’s jokes, and finally he asked, “Hot date tonight, Madam Mayor?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Just dinner with an important businessman.”

“Important for you? Or to the community?” asked Fido slyly.

“Oh, Fido!” she said, making a throwaway gesture. “As if I’d tell you!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Fido as he deftly handled his comb and scissors and snipped here, snipped there and worked his magic like a true Harry Potter of hair. “I can see it in your face. You’re radiant, Charlene! Yes, you are.”

“Oh, you silly man,” she said, but looked well pleased with the compliment.

“And something tells me this important businessman is not our beloved Chief of Police,” said Fido, gently probing. When Charlene glanced up, her eyes smiling, he added, “My lips are sealed, Charlene, you know that. This chair is like a confessional: nothing leaves this room. Discretion is my middle name.”

“Oh, all right. Alec and I had a fight last night.”

“What about?”

“About this dinner! He thinks he should join us. Act as my chaperone.”

“No way!”

“His words, not mine.”

“But why?!”

“He seems to think I can’t be trusted to be alone with this man, who is very charming and very rich and very powerful.”

“Tell me, who is it?”

Charlene glanced left and right and lowered her voice.“Charlie Manger.”

“Oh, my. Heis handsome, isn’t he? And very, very rich. What a catch, darling!”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” said Charlene with a grin. “But I have to admit I’m looking forward to having dinner with Charlie. It’ll be quite the experience, I’m sure.”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to give you the best styling you’ve ever had, darling. It’s going to make you look ten years younger, at the very least!”

“Oh, Fido. I knew I had to come and see you. You’re like a magician.”

“So is he interested in you? Or better yet: are you interested in him?”

Charlene pressed her lips together.“A lady never tells, Fido. You know that.”

“Oh, but she does to me, darling! She does to me!”

They both laughed uproariously at that, as if it was the best joke in the world, which maybe it was. Still, I didn’t think it was very funny.

Buster rolled his eyes.“He always does this.”

“Does what?” I asked.

“Flirts with his clients? And the weird thing is: he’s not even into women!”

“Not into women?” asked Dooley. “What is he into then? Parrots?”

“No, silly. Men, of course.”

Dooley stared at me, then at Buster, then at Fido.“I don’t get it,” he said finally. “Why would Fido be into men?”

“Because he is,” said Buster. “And now you have to tell me what’s eating you. You look like a dog stole your bone! If you were dogs yourselves, that is, and if you liked bones.” He thought for a moment. “Scratch that. Let’s just say you look like a cat stole your mouse. Though that doesn’t work either, since you don’t eat mice.”

“We’re looking for true love,” I said. “But so far we haven’t found it yet.”

“True love,” said Buster musingly. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. When you spend all of your days hanging around a hair salon like me, you discover all there is to know about love, and a lot you don’t want to know, if I’m honest.”

I could sense Dooley staring at me, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.“No, Dooley,” I said. “We’re not going to eavesdrop on Fido’s customers for the rest of the day.”

“But why not, Max? Buster says we’ll discover the secret of true love!”

“I doubt whether what we’ll find is the secret we want,” I told him.

“Yeah, Max is absolutely correct,” said Buster. “I have to say that after having spent my entire life in this establishment, I have absolutely no illusions left as far as love is concerned. Nasty business, if you ask me. And not a lot of fun.”

“How can you say that!” said Dooley. “True love is all there is. The most important thing in the world. Just look at Odelia and Chase.”

“Splitting up,” I murmured.

“Or… Brutus and Harriet.”

“Split up.”

“Uncle Alec and Charlene.”

“About to split up.”

“Tex and Marge?”

“In big trouble.”

He hung his head.“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally. “Maybe true love doesn’t exist. All the happy couples we know are splitting up, Buster!”

“Is that a fact?” said Buster, salivating at the fresh nugget of gossip Dooley had just dropped in his lap. “So Tex and Marge are splitting up, huh? And Brutus and Harriet? Even Odelia and Chase? Now there’s a couple I thought were going to stand the test of time. I guess you just never know, do you?”

“They’ve not split up yet,” I said.

“No, but Odelia doesn’t like the saggy belly Chase gave her,” said Dooley, before I could stop him, “and Tex was flirting with Sue, and Marge is reading steamy romance, and Harriet thinks Brutus spends too much time dreaming about birds.”

“Dreaming about birds, eh?” said Buster, shaking his head. “If I were Harriet, I’d be dump his ass, too. Birds, no less. How many birds, would you say, Dooley?”

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said.

“Ballpark figure. One bird? A dozen?”

But we’d already left the building.

CHAPTER 9

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Our next port of call was the General Store, where Kingman was frowning before himself for some reason. Kingman is a spreading piebald who likes to think that he’s the real mayor of Hampton Cove, though in actual fact he’s just a cat like us, and no human would ever take his advice—to their detriment, perhaps, for he does have a lot of wisdom and a lot of knowledge to share.

“Hey, fellas,” he said when we hove into view, fresh from our disappointing visit to the barbershop. “I think I’ve just seen a mouse. Have you seen a mouse?”

“No, we haven’t seen a mouse,” I said, taking a seat next to our friend on the sidewalk, and eyeing the large bowl of kibble with a dispirited eye. When a cat doesn’t even feel like digging into a bowl of kibble, it’s clear something is wrong.

“I could have sworn she was right there just now. She’s been pestering me all day, trying to grab my food, but I’m not gonna let her. I’m exercising extreme vigilance.” He yawned. “Though I gotta tell you, it’s tiring to be vigilant all the time. Even though I want to take a nap, I can’t, cause I just know she will scoot right past me and nab my food.”

“It’s all right, Kingman,” I said. “You can take a nap now. We’ll take keep an eye on the store for you, so to speak.”

“Gee, thanks, guys. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept a wink all day. Not one wink.”

And so while we sat there, keeping an eye out for that cheeky mouse, Kingman slept.

“Max?” said Dooley after a while.

“Yes, Dooley?”

“I’m not sure I really want to find true love anymore.”

“No, me neither,” I said.

“It just seems like such a lot of trouble, you know, and even when you find it, you end up losing it again, and having to worry about that must be very tiring.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. First you have to find it, which isn’t easy, and then when you’ve got it, you have to keep it, which seems like it might be even harder.”

“And you can’t even dream of birds, or your one true love will leave you.”

“Yeah, there’s that,” I admitted.

“Or you can’t have dinner with a businessman, or your one true love will be upset and will want to act as your chaperone for the evening, keeping an eye on you. Why does the mayor of Hampton Cove need a chaperone anyway?”

“She doesn’t. Uncle Alec is jealous is what it is, and doesn’t trust her.”

“I don’t know, Max. It just seems like it isn’t worth the hassle, you know.”

“Do you think Odelia has an ugly belly? I don’t think her belly is ugly, and I saw it plenty of times, beforeand after the baby arrived. I think her belly looks fine.”

“It is a lot flabbier now than it used to be,” said Dooley. “But I don’t think that means it’s uglier. And her hips are wider, and her skin wrinklier, but I think it becomes her. She looks great to me.”

“I think she looks great to Chase, too,” I said. “She justthinks she looks ugly.”

We were both quiet for a moment, and just then Gran and Scarlett passed by, on their way to the store. They looked happy and excited, and when they saw us, got even more excited.

“Oh, there you are,” said Gran. “Scarlett and I had the most amazing, brilliant idea. We’re going to launch Pettr, the dating app for pets. How about that? Then you and Dooley can find love whenever you want, and so can other pets!”

“So you took over Pettr?” I said. “That’s great.”

“Took over Pettr? What do you mean?”

“Bought it, I mean.”

“Why would we want to buy Pettr?” asked Gran. Then understanding dawned. “Wait, are you saying it already exists?”

“Sure. Harriet was on it for a while, but when she discovered that the handsome cat she was chatting with was actually Rufus the dog, she gave it up. Anyone can be anyone on those dating apps. It’s very tricky.”

Gran turned to Scarlett.“It already exists!”

“What does?”

“Pettr! Someone stole our idea!”

“I think Pettr has been around for a while,” I pointed out.

“Oh, forget it,” said Gran. “It was a lousy idea anyway.”

“But if it helps us find true love?” Dooley said, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

“True love doesn’t exist, Dooley! It’s just a big scam!” Gran cried, and then entered the shop. “Stupid Pettr. Can you believe it exists already?”

“We should have checked,” said Scarlett.

“You should have checked. It was your idea.”

“My idea! Pettr wasyour idea!”

And then they were gone.

Dooley looked a little taken aback.“True love doesn’t exist?” he asked me.

I gave him an apologetic look.“I don’t know, Dooley. I’m afraid I’ve never experienced true love myself, to be honest.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, then placed his head on his paws and sort of stared off into space for a while. Finally, he said, “Okay, so if it doesn’t exist, we don’t have to look for it, do we, Max?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Well, that’s definitely a load off my mind.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Though I had the distinct impression, from that brooding look in his eyes, that he was still thinking hard about the subject he’d raised that morning.

And so, I have to confess, was I!

CHAPTER 10

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Odelia felt sorry about her sudden outburst, and hurried over to her hubby to apologize. Lately she’d been feeling a little more vulnerable than usual about how she looked, but that didn’t mean she had to work it out on her husband, of course.

Chase was staring at a small mound of earth on the lawn.

“Babe?” she said as she walked out of the house, Grace on her arm.

“Now will you look at that,” he murmured.

“What is it?”

“A mole, I think. And if we don’t catch him, he’s going to destroy the whole lawn, and then your dad’s lawn as well.”

“I’m sure he’ll behave,” she said. With four cats in the house, no mole in his right mind would want to settle in their backyard permanently.

Grace muttered a few unintelligible words, and she stroked the little girl’s pink cheek affectionately.

“She’s getting bigger every day, isn’t she?” said Chase. “I swear each time I look away, she grows a couple of inches.”

“I don’t think she grows that fast,” said Odelia with a laugh.

“Pretty soon she’ll outgrow those diapers and we won’t have to keep changing them.”

“About that. I’m sorry I yelled at you, babe.”

He feigned surprise.“Yelled at me? When did you yell at me?”

“You know. When I blamed you for my belly and the size of my hips.”

“Your hips are fine, and so is your belly. And as far as your boobs are concerned, I can personally attest they are very fine indeed.”

She laughed.“Your daughter seems to agree with you.”

“That’s because sheis my daughter, and she inherited my good taste.”

They glanced at the rose bushes, which were nicely in bloom, and she noticed how Brutus now emerged, looking less than happy.

“What’s wrong with your cats?” asked Chase. “Do they also seem moody to you?”

“Yeah, something is going on, all right,” she said. Though she didn’t know what. Lately she’d been so busy with Grace she hadn’t had time to check up on her cats.

“Brutus?” she called out. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

“I’m seeing birds,” said Brutus with a sigh. “And now Harriet doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.” And then he disappeared through the opening in the hedge.

“He’s seeing birds,” she said. “And Harriet is upset about that for some reason.”

“Cats,” said Chase. “They’re a mysterious species.”

Just then, Max and Dooley entered the backyard from the front of the house. They looked just about as gloomy and downcast as Brutus.

“What’s up with you guys?” she asked, a touch of concern in her voice. If they were sick, she’d have to take them to the vet.

“Love doesn’t exist,” Max said darkly.

“Yeah, true love is a joke,” said Dooley.

“Hey, now,” she said. “What’s all that about?”

“It’s true,” said Dooley earnestly. “We saw it for ourselves.” And then he told a long and frankly rambling story about Odelia’s hips, Charlene’s hot date with a manger, Dad’s flirty ways with Sue Burnett, Mom’s steamy romance and Harriet breaking up with Brutus over all the bird-watching he did when he was asleep.

It sounded disjointed, but she thought she got the gist of it at any rate.

It seemed to her time to sit down with her clowder of cats, for they’d made a lot of assumptions about a lot of things as usual.

So she called out,“Brutus! Harriet! Get over here. Now!”

Brutus and Harriet came running, the tone of her voice brooking no contest, she pulled out a couple of chairs on the patio, and declared the meeting officially open. Meanwhile Chase was studying that smallish mound of dirt more closely, even going so far as to dig his hand in to see if he couldn’t catch that mole.

“Okay, look,” said Odelia. “Love isn’t perfect, all right? And neither are relationships. Yes, they get bumpy from time to time. So I might get upset with Chase about something, while in actual fact it’s me who’s struggling with whatever is troubling me in that moment. And sometimes couples will drift apart for a while, or go through some issues they need to work through, together or apart, but that doesn’t mean that love is dead. Or worse, that love doesn’t exist.”

“So… you and Chase are not splitting up?” asked Dooley.

“No, absolutely not,” she said. “I love Chase very much, and he loves me, and that means we work through any issue we face.”

“But… you were yelling at him.”

“Okay, so that happened, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving him, or he’s stopped loving me. At the end of the day, we’re all human, and so we’re not perfect, and neither is the love that we share.”

“But what about Tex and Marge?” asked Max.

“Yes, we saw Marge reading a steamy romance book,” said Dooley.

“And Tex was flirting with a patient,” said Max.

“He did?” said Harriet. “How interesting.”

“Mom reading a romance novel also doesn’t mean she’s stopped loving Dad,” said Odelia. “It just means she enjoys reading about the different aspects of love and romance. And Dad having flirty patients doesn’t mean he’s not faithful to mom, though I have to admit I might need to have aword with him about that. He’s much too naive for his own good, that one.”

Her parental unit probably didn’t see it, but he was a very handsome man and a real catch, and lately she had the impression some of his lady patients took advantage of the fact that he was a little clueless about the other sex.

“So he’s not going to marry Miss Burnett?” asked Dooley.

She laughed, causing Chase to look up and give her two thumbs up.

“No, he’s not going to marry Miss Burnett,” she said.

“And what about Uncle Alec and Charlene? He wants to be her chaperone when she goes out with Charlie Manger.”

She grimaced.“I’m sure they’ll work it out,” she said. “They’re both old and wise enough to know what they’re doing.” She sighed. “Look, life is a rocky road, you guys, and so is love. It’s not like in the movies that a couple meet, hold hands and then it’s a fade-out on the happy embrace.There will be trouble along the way, and it’s a testament to the strength of the relationship and the love that a couple share whether they’ll make it through those difficult times.”

“So what about Brutus and his birds?” asked Harriet. “He’s been seeing birds in his dreams, and I’m convinced it’s not birds he’s after but other girls.”

Odelia gave Harriet a slightly skeptical look.“Birds? Really? Come on, Harriet. I think you need to relax a little. Have some faith in your mate, all right? If you keep this up you’re going to end up suffocating the life out of your relationship.”

“It’s just birds,” Brutus murmured. “Red birds and green birds and yellow—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Harriet. She looked skeptical at first, but then finally nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Maybe I am a little too much sometimes.”

“How about all the time?” said Dooley, and they all looked at him in wonder, then burst into laughter.

“You’re right, Dooley,” said Harriet prissily. “But that’s because I’m a very passionate cat. And that’s what Brutus loves about me, doesn’t he?” She directed a hopeful look at her boyfriend. “Right, my love muffin?”

“It was just birds,” Brutus repeated, still looking slightly offended.

“Oh, my ironman, I’m sorry,” said Harriet, leaning over and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Can you ever forgive me?”

He glanced over, and the ice quickly melted when he caught Harriet’s pleading look. “Of course,” he said finally.

“Oh, honey bunny!”

“Oh, bright eyes!”

“Oh, big daddy!”

“Oh, angel face!”

And then they both hopped down from their respective chairs and scooted over to those same rose bushes they liked so much and disappeared from view.

“Guess they’ve got some more birds to look at,” said Dooley. He sighed and glanced up to Odelia. “But that still doesn’t answer my question. Am I ever going to find true love?”

“And me?” asked Max hopefully.

She smiled at her two cats, and caressed their furry cheeks.

“Of course,” she said. “But you have to give it time. Love doesn’t like to be coerced, you know, bent to your will. It comes on its own accord or it doesn’t come at all. Just look at me and Chase. Do you think I wanted some cocky cop to knock me off my feet? Of course not. But it happened, and now I’m glad he did.”

“Even though he gave you saggy skin?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Absolutely. In fact I wouldn’t want to change anything. Not for the world.”

On her lap, Grace let rip a tiny burp, then grabbed for her mother’s nose and pressed it like a button.

“So we just have to be patient?” asked Dooley.

“Just relax, Dooley,” Odelia said. “And don’t worry so much. Just be grateful for what you have and try to live in the moment. That’s what it’s all about, after all.”

She didn’t add that she often had a hard time following her own advice.

“I do like what I have,” said Dooley. “For one thing, I have the best best friend in all the world in Max, and that’s not something a lot of cats can say.”

Max looked visibly touched, and even Odelia choked up a little.

Just then, Chase came up and said,“I don’t think it’s a mole. It might be mice.” He gave Max a hard look. “Max. You have to step up your game here, buddy. Mice in my backyard? That just won’t do, you know. Not with four cats in the house.”

“Just leave him be, babe,” said Odelia. “He’s trying to find true love.”

Chase took a seat.“Well, I can tell him all about that. Cause I’m an expert on true love.” And then he gave Odelia such a look of devotion that her heart melted.

He leaned in for a kiss, and that’s the moment Grace chose to gurgle, “Mama!”

Her eyes went wide.“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, she burped,” said Chase.

“No, she said ‘Mama!’”

“No, she didn’t.”

“I heard it, too,” said Max.

“And me,” said Dooley happily.

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia.

“What?” asked Chase.

“I think she spoke cat language.”

Chase grinned.“Of course she did.”

And then Grace said,“Papa?”

Now it was Chase’s turn to go all googly-eyed. “Did you hear that? She said ‘Papa!’”

“Yes, she did, didn’t she?” said Odelia, and rocked their sweetheart on her lap. “She’s a clever girl.”

“Oh, my,” said Chase.

And as she and Chase kissed their sweetheart on the chubby cheeks, Max said,“Now that, Dooley, my friend, is true love.”

51. PURRFECT PARIS

CHAPTER 1

The Fritz-Parlton Hotel in the heart of Paris is one of those iconic hotels that are familiar to the weary world traveler, the occasional visitor to the City of Light or the wealthy tycoon looking for the latest in chic and class. The hotel has stood the test of time and has welcomed visitors from across the globe for going on nine decades now, and its luster hasn’t diminished in all those years, nor has its reputation as the epitome of style and hospitality.

Many a celebrity has found within its walls the kind of safe haven they habitually crave, as well as the kind of discretion that is much appreciated. Kings, presidents, movie stars and sports stars are counted amongst its frequent guests, but also regular families. Snobbishness is not part of the hotel’s culture and it caters to one and all, both the famous and the not so famous average Joe and Jane.

On this, a Wednesday morning, the lobby of the Fritz-Parlton was buzzing with life as always, with guests coming and going, and the tastefully opulent lobby the place where it was all happening. Discreetly positioned behind his receptionists was Barnabas Sheffield, the hotel’s longtime manager, under whose capable stewardship this cherished and much-awarded institution had flourished for the past twenty-five years and counting. The Parlton family, who owned the hotel, could rest easy knowing that the jewel in their crown was in excellent hands.

Mr. Sheffield, a bald smallish man with a discreet mustache, stood eyeing the seething mass of humanity with a keen eye. There wasn’t much that eye of his missed, and he now saw that an auspicious meeting was taking place in the center of his very own lobby. For a moment his heart stood still, or as still as it ever could without actually suspending service, for his eagle-eyed vision had spotted no less than four of his favorite actresses in all the world, stars of that treasure of daytime televisionHearts& Roses, only his most favorite TV show ever.

He drew in a quick breath of excitement when he saw that a most fateful reunion was about to take place, for ever sinceHearts& Roses had ceased production ten years before, much to the despair and disappointment of the show’s millions of adoring fans, the rift that had existed between the actresses who had carried the show had been the stuff of legend and tabloids alike.

Amalia Pulpweed, the star of the show, along with her costars Natalie Skinner and Penney Langner, had repeatedly expressed a fervent hope that the show would return to take its rightful place at the top of the ratings. But the fourth member of the four-woman squad that had carried the show to ever greater heights, the always hilarious and adorably irreverent Astra Jacobs, had staunchly thwarted every attempt at a rapprochement and had single-handedly scuppered any chance for the show’s triumphant return.

And so finally Amalia had decided that the only way to move forward was to simply replace Astra with a different actress altogether. A jubilant cry had rung out amongst the fans, and even longtime fan Barnabas, though not a man known for emotional outbursts, had yipped with joy when he discovered that the three women were coming to Paris to film new episodes for the show. But what he hadn’t expected was that Astra Jacobs would also be present. But his eyes weren’t deceiving him: there she was, striding across the lobby, set on a collision course with the trio who had just emerged from the bank of elevators to the right.

And it almost seemed as if a collective hush descended upon the lobby, as people became aware of what was happening. Not unlike two planets colliding, Barnabas wondered with bated breath what the upshot of this fateful meeting would be. Would there be a terrible row breaking out in the heart of his hotel? The kind of catfight rumored to have taken place on the set of the final season?

Unfortunately—or rather, fortunately—nothing of the kind took place that morning. Instead, the three women came to a standstill in the center of the lobby, exchanged a few civilized words with Astra, who stood eyeing them with a regal stance: head held high and her six-foot frame erect and proud, small frosty smiles were affected and then, almost as soon as it had begun, the auspicious meeting was over and the foursome went their separate ways, as they had done at the end of their ten-year undisputed reign of the television ratings.

Barnabas expelled a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d actually held his breath for as long as the exchange had lasted—only seconds, in fact.

“Do you think they’re going to film together again?” suddenly a voice spoke in his rear. Stepping to the fore, his second-in-command, Manuel Menzies, emerged from the depths of the maze of offices behind the reception desk. Manuel, a swarthy man with a mustache much more impressive than Barnabas’s delicate specimen, had been part of the hotel’s inner workings for as long as Barnabas. In fact the two had started together on the same day, Barnabas as receptionist and Manuel as a cleaner. They’d become firm friends that day, and still were now.

“I doubt it,” said Barnabas. “Don’t let the polite nature of that meeting fool you, Manuel. They still hate each other. I could tell from the way Astra and Amalia looked at each other.” He sighed. “No, the day those two will ever step in front of a camera again is the day hell freezes over.”

“I thought they looked pretty chummy,” said Manuel, fingering his mustache.

“Last I heard Astra said the only reason she kept working on the show for as long as she did was because she needed the money. But now that she’s financially secure, nothing and no one in the world will ever lure her back to that show.”

“Amalia wants her back, doesn’t she? And so does what’s his name—the show’s writer-producer…”

“Oscar Kinetic,” Barnabas supplied. “Yes, I’ll bet they want her back. It was the golden formula. Their ticket to global fame. Without Astra the show will never be the same, no matter how many people they replace her with. Astra has that—”

“Je ne sais quoi?” Manuel supplied with a slight tilt of his left eyebrow.

Barnabas smiled.“I couldn’t have put it better, my friend. She has star power. An elusive allure. Astra is that rare thing: a woman the camera absolutely adores, and so do we,” he softly added as he watched Astra step into the elevator and allow gilded doors to close on her regal form, like a queen sayingau revoir.

“Well, let’s hope she changes her mind,” said Manuel. “So we can all enjoy her work on screen once more.”

“Doubtful,” Barnabas murmured. But the time for idle speculation had passed. The reception was suddenly busier than ever, and so the time to step in had come.

A couple walked up to the counter, a tall muscular man and a petite fair-haired young woman with a pleasant open face. The woman was smiling at him, while the male glanced around in a curious fashion, his stance wide and his expression alert. They’d brought with them two pet carriers and from them he could hear the soft mewling of two cats, who obviously weren’t all that happy or used to being confined to such small spaces.

“Good morning, good morning,” he said, chipper and bright. “And welcome to the Fritz-Parlton Hotel. Do you have a reservation?”

“We do,” said the woman, showing a document on her phone and supplying him with two passports and a credit card. “Under the name Kingsley. Chase and Odelia Kingsley.”

“And I see you have brought your pets with you?” he said, leaning over the counter and inspecting the pet carriers. From behind the respective divider grilles two pairs of eyes studied him intently. One belonged to a fairly stout orange specimen, and the other to a small fluffy cat. Both seemedunhappy but resigned.

“Yes, these are Max and Dooley,” said Mrs. Kingsley, introducing the cats with a distinct note of pride.

“I have a cat myself,” Barnabas confessed. “Marion. She’s always roaming around, treating the hotel as her personal property, which I guess it probably is.”

“Wait until I release these two from their carriers,” said Mrs. Kingsley. “They’ll take over your hotel and start acting as if they own it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” said Barnabas with an indulgent smile, and proceeded to process the paperwork preparatory to checking the American couple in. “So what brings you to Paris, may I ask?” he said as he picked up the credit card.

“I’m here for a conference,” Mr. Kingsley said, now leaning on the counter and looking only slightly more at ease than his cats.

“My husband is a police officer,” the man’s wife explained. “He’s here for an international police conference.”

“And you,madame?” said Barnabas, who was happy that his instincts had proved him correct once more. He’d immediately pegged the man as either law enforcement or some form of private security. “Are you also a police officer?”

“Oh, no,” said the woman with a pleasant laugh. “I’m a reporter, actually, but I’m not working right now. No, I’m strictly here as a tourist.”

“Oh? So you have visited our fine institution before?”

“No, first time in Paris and first time staying at the Fritz-Parlton.”

“I hope we’ll be able to accommodate your stay to your satisfaction,” he said smoothly as he produced the couple’s electronic badges.

Mrs. Kingsley leaned in a little closer and dropped her voice.“Is it possible I just saw Amalia Pulpweed and her costars? I’m a big fan ofHearts& Roses, you see.”

The smile that flitted up the hotel manager’s lips was genuine and heartfelt. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Amalia, Natalie and Penney are in town to shoot a new series of their show.”

“And Astra? Is she also joining?” The lady’s green eyes had gone wide and expectant. “Have they finally… reconciled?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Barnabas, who keenly felt this lovely young woman’s pain. “Regrettably the fact that they’re here at the same time, in the same place, is nothing but a serendipitous coincidence, nothing more.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Mrs. Kingsley with a little sigh of disappointment. “Oh, well.” She bore the news bravely. “Maybe they’ll change their minds.”

“One can only hope,” said Barnabas, in full agreement.

“Who are these women?” asked Mr. Kingsley, and Barnabas’s smile was wiped from his face as with a squeegee. But then it was back. Your consummate hospitality professional doesn’t let the lack of familiarity with the best television show since time immemorial stand in the way of his years oftraining.

“The cast ofHearts& Roses,” he explained.

“Only the best show that was ever made,” the man’s wife explained.

But it was clear from the police officer’s demeanor that he couldn’t care less about a show that had inspired fan clubs, conferences and launched a million memes.

Then again, if a man spends his life submerged in the criminal underbelly of society, he probably doesn’t have the bandwidth to take in the finer things of life.

In that sense Chase Kingsley was more to be pitied than censored. And so Barnabas, as he handed over the couple’s keys, directed a smile of commiseration at the man’s wife, which she reciprocated by a grin of appreciation. Wherever two fans ofHearts& Roses shall meet, they’ll always be connected by the bonds of fandom and love for the best show that was ever created—now and forever.

CHAPTER 2

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It isn’t every day that one is invited to join one’s humans on what can only be described as a second honeymoon, even though technically of course it wasn’t. Chase had been invited to go to this police conference—something organized by Europol or Interpol or some other Pol—and it was one of those offers one can’t refuse: five days in Paris, all expenses paid? No, sir, I don’t think so. Are you kidding? Of course I’ll go! And then when it became clear he could bring a plus-one at a diminished rate, it didn’t take long for my humans to decide they could use a couple of days in Paristo enjoy time away from the business of their home.

You see, lately our cozy little home had become infested with all kinds of people dropping in unannounced. It had started with a politician, quickly followed by a prince and his influencer wife, and topped off with a talk show host. And since Odelia was still recovering from giving birth to an entirely new human being—a tough proposition for any body, it’s safe to say—she was looking forward to a couple of days of relaxation, especially since the hotel these Pol people had chosen was the Fritz-Parlton, by all accounts not some shabby shack in the woods but one of the jewels in Paris’s crown, as far as hotels are concerned.

The only problem was that they could reasonably only bring along two of their cats, not all four, and so it was that Dooley and I now found ourselves in the lobby of one of the finest hotels in Paris, tucked safely inside our respective pet carriers.

“When do you think they’re going to let us out of here, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Soon, Dooley, soon,” I said, even though I had no idea either. But reason told me we couldn’t remain locked up in these cages indefinitely. At some point they had to release us, right? Right?

“I wish you a very pleasant stay in Paris,madame,monsieur,” the manager type kind of person was saying. Then he seemed to reconsider, for he added, in a sort of undertone, “You are a police officer, sir?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Chase.

“And you are an investigative reporter,madame?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m aninvestigative reporter,” Odelia protested, modesty itself as usual.

“My wife is the best investigative reporter in our hometown,” said Chase, not stinting on the praise. “And she’s assisted the police on numerous investigations as a civilian consultant. In my opinion she’s simply the best at what she does.”

“Oh, well,” said Odelia. “I share my ideas with the police from time to time.”

“You’ve knocked it out of the park many times, babe,” said Chase. “You and your—”

I think he was going to say‘cats’ but just in time remembered that most people would look askance at a police officer who engaged the services of a feline, so he swallowed his words.

There was a pregnant pause of a few seconds, then the manager went on,“The thing is,Monsieur Kingsley,Madame Kingsley, that this fine?tablissement of which I am the proud manager has been faced with a crisis of the highest order.” He lowered his voice even more, looked left and right, then practically whispered, “We’re being targeted by a cat burglar!Un chat cambrioleur!”

“A what now?” Chase asked, also leaning in.

“A cat burglar!” the man loud-whispered, and darted a curious glance in my direction, as if to suggest that I had something to do with this crisis of the highest order, simply because I was a cat. I could have told him I don’t go in for the burglarious endeavor, but of course he wouldn’t have understood. Instead I merely stared at him in a wounded fashion, which went right over his head.

“Already three cases of nocturnal marauding have been reported, but so far we haven’t been able to apprehend the dastardly thief.”

“Three cases of burglary?” asked Odelia.

“In the last fortnight alone,” the manager confirmed, his face having taken on a sort of hangdog look. Even his modest mustache was drooping at the tips and his lips puckered in abject dismay. “We’ve involved the police each time, of course, but they don’t seem particularly interested in taking the case firmly in hand. I even suggested they put a man at the hotel, undercover so to speak, to keep an eye on things, but they fob me off each time with the feeble excuse of being understaffed.” He scoffed a little. “As if the safety and wellbeing of our guests, not to mention the reputational damage to this great institution, is not a priority.”

“What was stolen, exactly?” asked Chase, always quick to cut to the chase.

“Jewels, diamonds, necklaces, money… Anything of value. And it seems the thief knows exactly where and when to strike, so we’re thinking it must be someone with an insider’s knowledge of the hotel and its guests.”

“A member of your staff, you think?” asked Odelia.

The man bridled a little.“Absolutely not. I vouch for my people! This must be a professional thief. An expert. A crack burglar! The first victim was the Comtesse de Vichy, one of our oldest and most loyal customers. She had her entire collection of gems stolen from her room safe. A collection worth several thousands of Euros. Then the next night the Duke of Albany was hit. He’d just acquired a necklace for his wife, the Duchess, to take home with him for her birthday. A great tragedy, of course, both financially and emotionally. And then just three nights ago Lady Vanity was burgled. She is of course a French national treasure—legend of the silver screen. Her collection of diamond rings was stolen while she was asleep in her bed, if you please.” He shook his head mournfully. “If this doesn’t stop, it will be our ruin. We’ve been able to keep the story out of the papers, with the participation of the victims and the police, but sooner or later the press will get wind of the story, and we will be inside shit’s creek all the way!”

Odelia and Chase suppressed a snort of surprise at this creative use of the well-known expression from the lips of this distinguished-looking hotel manager.

“So please you will keep an eye out for me, yes?” the manager now implored, getting down to brass tacks. “The owners of the hotel, the descendants of Fritz Parlton, have agreed to offer a reward of ten thousand Euros for any information that will lead to the man’s capture. Anything to get rid of this dreadful pestilence.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Odelia assured the man.

“You called him a cat burglar,” said Chase. “You mean he scales the walls and crawls across the roof of the hotel to get to his target?”

“It is the only explanation,” said the manager, spreading his arms in a gesture of resignation. “We have posted members of staff in the corridors at night—discreetly, of course, so as not to alarm the guests. And we have hired extra security people to patrolle p?rim?tre. But even on the nights he was active, they reported nothing.Rien! And the police have confirmed that he got in through the window each time, even though the three rooms that were burgled respectively are located three, five and eight stories up, with no fire escape anywhere nearby.”

“So an actual cat burglar, huh?” said Odelia, and already I could tell that her detective’s blood was up. “I never met a cat burglar before, I have to say.”

“What’s a cat burglar, Max?” asked Dooley from the pet carrier next to mine.

“It’s a burglar who manages to crawl across roofs and scale walls and jump from ledge to ledge like a cat to reach his target,” I explained. “Usually they’re also dressed in black to avoid detection, and they preferably operate at night.”

“So a black cat burglar?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“Phew,” he said. “I thought that manager was going to think I did it. The way he was looking at me just now.”

“He can’t possibly think we’re involved, Dooley,” I said. “We’ve only just arrived. And besides, cats don’t steal jewels. At the most we’d steal the odd fish or sausage, but not necklaces or rings and such.”

“No, you can’t eat a ring or a necklace,” my friend agreed.

It was a solid argument for why no actual cat could be involved. Though I have to say my interest was piqued. Mostly because this cat burglar was giving cats a bad name, and if this kept up, pretty soon everyone would start to look at us the way this manager was looking at us: with accusation written all over his features.

“Let’s catch this cat burglar,” I therefore suggested. “Before we get kicked out of this hotel and Odelia and Chase are forced to look for a different place to stay.”

“If this cat burglar crawls all over the roof at night, we’ll also have to crawl all over the roof at night to catch him,” my friend said in an excellent bit of logic.

“So be it,” I said, though I have to admit I’ve never been one of those cats who like to crawl all over roofs, or walls, or ledges, or any of those scary places that are way up high. Then again, sometimes a cat has to do what a cat has to do. And clearly our reputation as a species was on theline here.

“Don’t you worry about at thing, Mr…” Odelia said.

“Sheffield,” said the manager. “Barnabas Sheffield.”

“We’ll catch this cat burglar for you.”

The little man’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, you will? But that is just wonderful! That ismagnifique!”

“And we don’t even need that reward,” Odelia added magnanimously.

“Though if you insist, we’ll take it,” Chase countered, with a keen eye on his wife. An eye that said: that nursery wasn’t cheap, babe. Nor is having a baby.

He was right. I once read that raising a kid costs as much as buying a house. And considering the prices houses go for these days, that’s saying something!

Just then, I thought I saw another cat—an actual cat, not a cat burglar.

She was a smallish specimen, very black and very lithe as she slipped from behind the counter, took one look at the both of us, then disappeared as quickly as she had popped out.

“Did you see that, Dooley?” I said.

“See what?” asked my friend.

“I think I just saw a cat.”

“You found him already! The cat burglar!”

“No, this was an actual cat.”

“Did she have a diamond diadem on her head?”

“No diamond diadem.”

“Any other jewelry? Rings, necklaces, bracelets…”

“No, nothing of the kind.”

“Then maybe it was an actual cat,” he allowed. “Which isn’t as unusual as it sounds, Max. I’ll bet they have cats in Paris, too.”

“I know they have cats in Paris, Dooley. It probably was Marion.”

“Mar-who?”

“Marion. The hotel manager’s cat. He mentioned her just now.”

“Too bad. I thought you’d already caught that burglar.”

“Don’t you worry, Dooley. We’re going to catch him. And then that ten thousand Euros is ours. Odelia and Chase obviously need that money, and the hotel needs to get rid of this pest.”

“Odelia and Chase need money?” asked Dooley, a note of surprise in his voice. “You mean they’re poor?”

“Not poor, exactly, but they just had a baby, and babies cost an arm and a leg.”

“An arm and a leg!”

“Figuratively speaking, of course.”

CHAPTER 3

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

All administrative stuff dispensed with, we took the elevator to the eighth floor, where our room was presumably located, and Odelia and Chase discussed the mysterious presence of the cat burglar at the hotel.

“Maybe we should close the window at night and not leave it open for the cats, babe,” Chase was saying.

“For the cat burglar, you mean?” When Chase nodded ominously, she smiled. “You heard the guy—that burglar is only interested in diamonds and gold. He’s not going to be interested in us since we’ve got nothing that’s worth stealing.”

Chase scratched his scalp.“No, I guess you’re probably right.”

“Unless he wants to steal us, Odelia!” Dooley practically shouted.

“Cat burglars don’t steal cats, Dooley,” Odelia assured him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, pretty sure,” she said with a smile.

But then the elevator gently shuddered to a stop and we all got out. That is to say: Odelia and Chase got out, while Dooley and I remained where we were: ensconced in our temporary plastic homes!

Lucky for us, the moment we arrived in the room, Odelia released the catch on the metal grilles and we soon emerged, glad to finally be free again.

Traveling is all nice and dandy, except for the part where you’re cooped up inside a small space for hours on end. Then again, the same goes for humans, of course, being stuck inside a metal tube while it’s hurtling across the Atlantic.

But we were there now, and all discomfort was soon forgotten when Chase opened the window and the four of us stepped out onto the balcony to take in our first view of Paris from up high.

“Oh, glorious,” said Odelia.

Lucky for us the balcony consisted of a steel-and-glass framework through which we could have the same view as our much taller humans.

“Where is the Eiffel Tower, Odelia?” asked Dooley.

“Right… there,” said Odelia, pointing in the distance.

We gazed at the marvel of architecture, which was looming large in the middle distance, and I asked,“Are we going to climb it one of these days, Odelia?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, exchanging a glance with Chase. “They want to climb the Eiffel Tower,” she explained.

“I’m not sure cats are allowed to climb that thing,” said Chase. “We’ll have to check.”

“Or you could carry us up in our carriers,” Dooley suggested.

When Odelia relayed this suggestion, Chase coughed a laugh. Obviously he wasn’t keen on carrying us however many stairs to the top of that famous construction.

“I don’t mind if I don’t go to the top,” I said, and I meant it. I’m not all that interested in climbing to the top of any tall construction, to be honest. I guess I’m one of those old-fashioned cats that prefer to stay with their paws firmly on terra firma at all times.

“I’m going to leave this window open tonight,” Odelia now explained, “so you and Dooley can go out whenever you want. And I specifically asked for a room as close to the roof as possible, so you can jump from this balcony to the next, and make your way up to the roof at night. I’ve heard it’s very nice up there,” she told us with a wink.

I gave her a weak smile in return. I know as a cat I should have been rejoicing, since everyone knows how much cats love to sit on roofs and such, but to be honest I’d never been on a roof as high as this one. Even the roof of our own home seems pretty high to me. “That’s great,” I said, putting on my bravest face. “We’ll definitely jump from balcony to balcony and up to that roof to our heart’s content.”

“Are you sure, Max?” Dooley whispered as we retreated into the room to check it out properly. “What if we meet that cat burglar and he burgles us?”

“Cat burglars aren’t interested in stealing cats, Dooley,” I reiterated a point Odelia had already made but felt like it needed to be said again. “They are only interested in stealing things of value.”

“But… We’re things of value, aren’t we? Odelia values us, and so does Chase.”

“Yes, but you can’t sell us for a lot of money, now can you? Not like gold or diamonds.”

“I guess not,” said Dooley dubiously. “Still, why call it a cat burglar if he doesn’t steal cats?”

But since I was too busy checking under the bed, and sniffing my way around the room, making sure the cleaners had done a stellar job and no other pets were on the premises, I didn’t bother to respond. Besides, if I was going to have to answer every one of my friend’s questions twice, it was going to be a long day.

Dooley usually isn’t like this, but I guess he was feeling the strain from traveling all the way out here to this place called Paris.

“I’m sure that if this burglar tries to burgle us, Max and Dooley will protect us,” I could hear Odelia tell Chase. But Chase didn’t look entirely convinced for some reason. “And besides, maybe we want this burglar to pay us a visit,” Odelia continued, “that way we can catch him and collect that reward money.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Chase. “Still, I would have felt much more at ease if they’d allowed me to bring my weapon.”

“You don’t need a weapon to deal with this burglar,” said Odelia. “Clearly this is a very young person. Who else would be able to scale walls and roofs like that?”

“Maybe he’s a circus acrobat!” said Dooley, piping up once more. “And since he’s not making enough money in the circus he decided to get a second job.”

“It must be someone very athletic, that’s for sure,” Odelia agreed. “Or else he wouldn’t be able to do the things he does.”

“It could also be a woman,” I said. “Why assume that all burglars are men?”

“Because statistically most of them are,” said Odelia. “But you’re absolutely right, Max. It could be a woman, so we shouldn’t discard that possibility.”

“Man or woman, I hope they catch this person,” said Chase, “and frankly I don’t care about the money. In fact I hope they catch him without any input from us.” When Odelia started to protest, he placed his hands on her arms. “Honey, we’re here to enjoy a nice vacation away from all the stress back home. Especially you. So remember: you’re here to relax, to do some shopping, see the sights, enjoy a nice massage, sauna, hot tub—and generally as little excitement as possible.”

“Oh, all right,” said Odelia, relenting. “I guess you’re right. We did come out here to have some time away from things.”

“Now you’re talking. So I’m going to my conference tomorrow, but before that, we’re heading into town. I’ve got an entire list of things to see, and we’re going to forget all about that burglar, and hopefully we won’t hear about him until he’s caught.”

“You made a list?” said Odelia. “Only I made a list, too.”

“Then let’s compare lists,” said Chase happily, and took a tattered piece of paper from his back pocket. Clearly it had been there for a while.

Odelia dove into her hand luggage and returned with a gorgeous-looking notebook, where she’d made a long list, complete with clippings, pictures she’d printed out in full color, and a perfectly-organized fully-detailed itinerary.

Chase took one look at his wife’s ‘list’ and admitted defeat. “Let’s go with your list,” he grunted, and balled up his piece of paper and aimed it into the trash.

“Great!” said Odelia, beaming. “Let’s go!”

“What, now?”

“Of course. Time’s a-wasting, big guy!”

“But… what about jet lag? I thought we’d take a nap first.”

“Forget about jet lag, babe. I wanna see Paris! Besides, we slept on the plane.”

And so Odelia and Chase left again, leaving us to do what we do best. No, not scaling roofs or robbing people. Napping! And what a glorious nap it was!

CHAPTER 4

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“I’m so happy we came,” said Odelia as they strolled along the Champs Elys?es in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. They’d already seen the Notre Dame, strolled along the Seine, had coffee on a sidewalk caf?, seen the Luxemburg Gardens, the Louvre—she was definitely going to pay a visit the next day—and were now taking in some of the shops along perhaps the most famous boulevard in the world, quickly working through Odelia’s list of things she wanted to see.

“Yeah, me too,” said Chase as he snapped a picture of the wide boulevard on his phone. “Something to show the folks back home,” he muttered.

“Too bad Mom and Dad couldn’t come, but then they’ve already been to Paris.”

“Didn’t your grandmother want to come?” asked Chase.

“Not particularly,” said Odelia as she looked away.

Chase grinned.“You didn’t even tell her we were going, did you?”

Odelia returned his grin as she took his arm.“You know me all too well, hubby of mine. No, of course I didn’t tell her.”

Gran was a lovely person, but since the whole purpose of this trip was to have a relaxing time away from home, she and her mom had felt it better not to mention to Gran they were going to Paris. The old lady would have found a way to tag along, and this was, after all, a sort of second honeymoon, and crusty old grannies with a mind of their own tend not to be much fun on honeymoons.

Odelia got her phone out of her pocket and checked her WhatsApp. Mom had been posting a steady stream of updates on Grace, and she kept an eye on them.

“Don’t worry, babe,” said Chase. “Grace is just fine. Besides, she’s probably asleep right now, seeing as it’s nine o’clock in the evening back home.”

“That means she’s probably awake, and keeping everyone else awake, too.”

Even though Grace had already gotten a lot more regular in her sleeping habits, she still liked to wake up if she felt like it, and let her presence be known.

“It’s only five days,” said Chase gently. You’ll be able to hold her in your arms again before you know it.”

“I know,” she returned, as she placed her head against her hubby’s broad shoulder. “It’s amazing, though, isn’t it, to think that until a couple of months ago, we didn’t have a care in the world, and still we worried all the time, and now there’s only one thing I think about and worry about and that’s Grace, and all those so-called concerns seem to have evaporated.”

“Meaning they were never real worries at all.”

“I guess.” She frowned. “Do you think Max and Dooley will be all right?”

“Now, see, that’s a worry you can drop right now.”

“You think?”

“Of course! When have Max and Dooley ever not been all right?”

“Yeah, I guess they can take care of themselves.” She released a nervous laugh. “And it’s not as if this cat burglar is going to steal them or harm them, is he?”

“Of course not. Besides, burglars usually strike at night, so they’re perfectly safe.”

They admired the Arc de Triomphe and took some pictures from all sides, then continued their walk through Paris in the direction of the Galeries Lafayette. After checking out this most beautiful department store, they took the subway to Montmartre, home to Sacre Coeur, the Moulin Rouge, and a maze of cozy little streets, squares, cafes and bars. And as they searched around for a place to take a load off their feet, which were starting to hurt by now, they hit upon a section of Montmartre that had been cordoned off for some reason.

When they approached, she saw that none other than Amalia Pulpweed, dressed in a lavender tulle dress and bright yellow heels, was strolling along the street, a camera on a tracking rail hot on her tail, capturing every movement as she swished along, her high heels clacking on the cobblestone street.

“It’s Amalia!” Odelia said excitedly, squeezing her husband’s arm.

“Is it, now?” Chase grunted. Clearly he wasn’t as impressed by this glimpse at the shoot of the new season ofHearts& Roses as she was.

Amalia was heading for a small caf?, where her two friends were waiting, surrounded by extras, all sipping from tiny cups of coffee. Then Amalia joined Penney and Natalie, and someone yelled, “Cut!” and that was that.

A man Odelia recognized as Oscar Kinetic, the creator-producer-director-writer of the show, strode to the fore, and started talking animatedly with his three stars. Amalia didn’t seem to agree with him, and she voiced her protestations with wide sweeping gestures of her arms. For a moment it looked as if they were going to come to blows.But then she abruptly got up and started walking away, much to the astonishment of the show’s hyphenate overlord.

“She’s coming this way!” Odelia cried. “Do you think I should ask for a selfie?”

“I don’t think she’s in the mood for a selfie, babe,” said Chase, and he was probably right, as Amalia’s pretty face spelled storm.

Just before she reached Odelia and Chase, who were safely kept behind the barrier the production team had set up, the television star veered off and proceeded in the direction of a giant trailer, which presumably was Amalia’s home away from home for the duration of the production.

“Will you look at the size of that trailer!” Odelia gasped.

“They say the bigger the ego, the bigger the trailer,” said Chase, a little unkindly, Odelia felt.

“I’d give anything to take a look inside,” she said, following every movement of her favorite star.

Then, as Amalia was about to enter her trailer, suddenly a rangy young man with carrot-colored hair approached her, and exchanged a few words. Obviously his presence was unwelcome, for Amalia flapped her arms, like a chicken about to lay an egg, then entered her trailer, slamming the door in the young man’s face.

“Looks like a cop,” said Chase remarked.

And he did. He was dressed in blue, and could indeed have been a French cop.

“Wonder what that was all about,” Chase murmured, his cop brain immediately interested in why a cop would try to have speech with the star.

“Maybe she parked her trailer where she’s not allowed?” Odelia suggested.

“I’m sure the production will have arranged the necessary permissions.”

The cop walked their way, looking downcast after his run-in with the star.

“Hey, buddy,” said Chase once the guy was within earshot. “The name’s Chase Kingsley and I’m a cop from New York. Mind telling me what that was about?”

The young man perked up at the sight of a colleague.

“NYPD! Tom Selleck! I loveBlue Bloods!”

Chase grinned at the guy’s pretty excitement. “You a cop, too?”

The man nodded. Then he stopped nodding and grimaced.“Actually I am traffic warden, so technically not a cop, though I feel like cop,” he quickly added.

“And you dress like a cop,” said Chase, gesturing to the man’s fine threads.

The kid thrust out his chest.“It is a great uniform I wear with pride,” he confirmed happily.

“So you write traffic tickets?”

“That is what I do. I write a lot of traffic tickets all the day.”

“And Mrs. Pulpweed has an outstanding ticket, is that it?”

“Yes, her ticket is really outstanding. I try to collect, but she blows me up big time.”

“Blows you off, you mean,” said Chase with an indulgent chuckle.

“Yes, she blows me off all the time. She is a big star, yes?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty big in the States,” said Chase.

“Not just the States,” said Odelia, coming to her idol’s defense. “Amalia Pulpweed is a big star everywhere. She’s an international superstar.”

“I have heard of her,” the young man said, nodding. He then introduced himself as Louis de Ferr?, traffic warden with the Paris Police Prefecture. And after exchanging a few more words with them, especially about Tom Selleck, who he seemed to admire a great deal, he mounted his bicycle and rode off, to deliver some more traffic justice and keep those Paris streets safe.

Odelia could have stood there for hours, watching the fascinating scene, as the production got busy rearranging the setup and makeup artists worked on Natalie and Penney, but Chase reminded her they were only in Paris for a couple of days, and didn’t she want to have a bite to eat and see some more of the sights?

So she reluctantly tore herself away from the shoot and they proceeded to cram as much of Paris into a single day as they possibly could, only arriving back at the hotel very late and feeling slightly guilty for leaving Max and Dooley all by themselves for so long, but also glad to have seen so much of the gorgeous city.

She plunked down on the couch and proceeded to massage her painful feet and calves and tell her cats all about the wonderful day they had.

“And then we saw the Louvre, and then we saw the Tuileries Garden…”

The cats listened politely, but she could see their heart wasn’t in it, so she released them from having to listen to her jabbering, and instead picked up her phone and called her mom, who immediately answered, carrying Grace in her arms.

The sight of her baby’s roseate cheeks and infectious smile instantly drove the tiredness from her bones, and then she and Chase spent a pleasant half hour chatting with Mom and Dad and Grace.

All in all it was a most magical first day in a magical city.

And it was only the beginning.

CHAPTER 5

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I would have been more interested in what Odelia had to say if she hadn’t woken me up from a most wonderful nap. Dooley and I had discovered that the bed the hotel had to offer was top notch indeed and carried our most hearty approval. The box spring was soft yet firm, big yet compact, and generally one of the finest I’d ever slept on. I would have suggested to Odelia she buy one of these for our homestead if she hadn’t kept yammering on about the Moulin Rouge, the Notre Dame, something called the Tuileries and the Louvre, all places I’m sure are absolutely fascinating, but not as fascinating as this super box spring, obviously.

But then she seemed to tire of our lack of excited response and decided to chat with her mom and dad and Grace instead. An excellent choice, I must say, for it afforded us the opportunity to have a chat with Harriet and Brutus on the iPad.

“So you haven’t been up the Eiffel Tower?” asked Brutus. “I mean, what’s the point of traveling all the way to Paris if you’re not going to go up the Eiffel Tower? It’s only the most iconic tower in France.”

“It’s very high,” Dooley said, “and besides, Chase said pets are not allowed.”

“Chase is trying to get out from his obligations as a pet parent,” said Harriet. “You have to point out to him that he has certain responsibilities, and carrying you all the way up to the top of the Eiffel Tower is definitely one of them.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to,” I said, “but that he doesn’t have a lot of time. He’s here for his police conference, you see, and so he probably can’t cram a visit to the Eiffel Tower into his busy schedule.”

“Typical,” Harriet scoffed. “Busy, busy, busy. Always busy. Even too busy to bring me and Brutus along.”

“I think two cats is probably the limit?” I suggested. I didn’t think it was fair either, but then I could see Odelia’s point. Having to drag four pet carriers through customs is pushing the limit, and besides, they had to pay for Dooley and my passage, and adding two more cats to the bill was too much for the family kitty.

“They’ve got an actual cat burglar at the hotel,” said Dooley, sensibly changing the subject. “And we’re going to catch him—or her.”

“A cat burglar?” asked Brutus. “You mean a cat who burgles people?”

“No, a human who burgles other humans but pretends to be a cat while he does it,” was Dooley’s explanation. “Though at first I thought it was actually a burglar who steals cats, but Max has told me that burglars don’t steal cats.”

“What does he know?” Brutus scoffed. “I’ll bet itis a thief who steals cats. So you better watch out, Dooley, or else they’re going to try and grab you.”

Dooley gulped, even as I shook my head to indicate he shouldn’t listen to Brutus.

“Or they could steal Max,” said Dooley finally, once he’d gotten over his initial shock and dismay. “He’s probably more interesting for these thieves.”

“Now why would anyone want to steal Max?” asked Brutus.

“Because… He’s bigger? And… smarter?”

“Use your head, Dooley,” said Brutus. “It’s exactly because he’s so big that nobody is going to want to grab him. He’s too heavy! And as far as his brain is concerned, nobody cares about brains. A brain is not a precious commodity.”

“People care about beauty,” Harriet chimed in. “And of the two of you, you’re the pretty one, Dooley, remember that. Now of course if I had been there, which I should have been, if Odelia hadn’t been so stingy, they would have targeted me, of course, since I’m the only real beauty in our band of four. But in my absence they might go for you, Dooley, just remember that.”

Dooley gulped some more, then threw me a panicky look.“Max?” he said in a strangled voice. “You have to protect me!”

“I told you, Dooley.” Many times, in fact. “This cat burglar isn’t interested in us. All he wants are diamonds and jewels and pearls and such.”

“Oh, well,” said Brutus with a wicked grin. “In that case you’re safe, Max. Not only are you too heavy to carry, you’re definitely no gem.” And he laughed heartily at his joke.

“Nice, Brutus,” I said. “Very nice.”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt,” said my ‘friend.’ “I’m just looking out for you. You have to make yourself as unattractive as possible, in case this burglar strikes.”

“I’ll keep your advice in mind,” I said grimly as I pressed Disconnect. Of course Brutus immediately rung again and Dooley picked up.

“What happened?” said Brutus. “Crappy connection in your five-star hotel?”

“Something like that,” I allowed. And while Dooley chatted some more with the twosome, presumably receiving many more tips on how to deal with this burglar of cats, I wandered over to where Odelia had placed our bowls of food, and freely tucked in.

I don’t know if you know this, but hotels have something called room service, which means you can order anything you like from a menu and they bring it up to your room. It’s absolutely wonderful, and apart from the box spring may just be the best invention made by man. So of course I’d ordered a nice meaty treat, and so had Dooley, and practically without delay it had been delivered to the room!

As I tucked into all this deliciousness, the TV stood blaring away in a corner of the room, without anyone actually paying any attention to it. The newscaster was saying something about a diamond smuggle ring being active in the city, and also the price of gas and petrol going up—due to something called inflation—so I quickly tuned him out and padded over to the balcony, nudged open the door, and walked out, offering myself a view of a Paris that was ready to meet dusk.

It was still as glorious a view as before, only now with lights starting to flicker on all across town.

“Nice,” I murmured, then rolled up on the floor and promptly dozed off again.

Brutus would have said I was risking my life, being exposed like this to this cat burglar, but I was prepared to take my chances. As long as Odelia didn’t get it into her nut to bling me up with diamonds and pearls, I had a feeling I was pretty safe.

CHAPTER 6

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Odelia and Chase must have gone downstairs to have dinner in the hotel dining room and returned, for I’d been fast asleep on that nice bed and woken up, had a bite to eat, a quick tinkle, then fallen asleep again, alongside my friend.

In what felt like the middle of the night, we were all awakened by a persistent banging on the door.

“If it’s room service, tell them to go away,” I murmured. “And come back at a reasonable hour.”

Chase had jumped from the bed and was cautiously making his way over to the door.

“Maybe it’s the cat burglar!” said Dooley. “Maybe he’s come to take me!”

“Cat burglars don’t knock on doors, Dooley,” I said. “And for the millionth time, cat burglars don’t target cats, not even pretty ones like you.”

“Be careful, honey,” said Odelia, also on her feet.

Chase nodded and then opened the door to peer at this late-night arrival.

We heard a woman’s voice ask, “Oh, is-is Adeola in, please? It’s urgent.”

“Come on in,” said Chase, and allowed the visitor to step into the room.

She was a tall woman with long blond hair and a pained expression on her face. I would have pegged her a few years north of forty, and judging from the classy dress she was wearing she was one of the hotel’s more wealthy guests.

“Adeola?” she asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. But when Odelia said, ‘Yes,’ she seemed confused. “I’m looking for Adeola,” she repeated. “Someone told me this was her room?”

“Yes, I’m Odelia,” said Odelia.

“Oh,” said the woman, clutching at her neck. “In that case I’m afraid there has been a mistake. The person I’m looking for is Adeola O’Mahony. She’s my husband’s production assistant.”

“And your husband is…” Chase inquired.

She turned to him, and seemed reluctant to answer the question, but then finally said,“Oscar Kinetic. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you, but…”

She seemed lost somehow, as if some heavy burden was weighing her down.

“Here, take a seat,” said Odelia, as she came to the woman’s aid. “Are you all right?”

The woman shook her head.“I-I don’t…” And then all of a sudden she burst into a flood of tears!

Odelia immediately gestured for Chase to close the door and get a glass of water, while she sat next to the woman on the sofa and placed an arm around her shoulders.

“There, there,” she said gently. “It can’t be as bad as all that, now can it?”

“You’re Americans,” said the woman.

“Odelia and Chase Kingsley,” said Odelia. “We’re here on holiday.”

The woman nodded as she gratefully accepted a glass of water from Chase.“Agatha Kinetic, and frankly I don’t know what to do right now.”

“What’s the problem?” asked Chase, but Odelia waved him away. Chase was a great cop, but his bedside manner left something to be desired.

Mrs. Kinetic locked eyes with me, for some reason, and seemed to draw comfort from the sight of two fluffy cats lying on the bed, for a faint smile appeared on her face.

“I’ve left my husband,” she announced, quite out of the blue, I thought. She sat up a little straighter, as if these words had galvanized her. “I discovered that he’s been cheating on me, you see. I always suspected it, but now tonight I received proof. Pictures of him and… this other woman. And so I need to get away from him. Only, I’m thousands of miles from home, and someone else arranged my travel plans, so my passport…”

“Adeola O’Mahony has it,” said Odelia, understanding dawning.

Agatha nodded as she wiped at her eyes.“That’s the problem when you rely too much on your husband for these kinds of practical things. When you want to leave him, you end up depending on him to make it happen.”

“Maybe you can stay here tonight?” Odelia suggested. “And then in the morning we can look for this Adeola person together?”

“I just walked out of the suite I share with Oscar, then realized I had nowhere to go, and didn’t even know where to find Adeola.” She held up her phone. “I don’t even have her number. So I asked reception, and they gave me this room number.”

“They must have misunderstood.”

Agatha stared before her, with what are usually termed unseeing eyes.“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…”

“Do you have kids?” asked Odelia.

Agatha nodded.“A son. Tucker. He’ll be nineteen next month.”

“Is he in Paris?”

“Yes, he is. He came to Paris with us and is also staying at the Fritz-Parlton. But I don’t want to bother him. He’s been spending time with his friends. And also, I don’t want him to be upset with his dad. Oscar may be a lousy husband, but he’s a wonderful dad.” She rubbed her temple. “Oh, this is such a mess, isn’t it? And the worst part is that I like her, you know? I always thought she was great. And a true friend. But the pictures don’t lie.” She unlocked her phone, then seemed to reconsider. “You—you’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you? I mean, if thepress found out about this, Oscar would be ruined.”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul,” said Odelia, and her words must have impressed Agatha sufficiently, for she showed her the pictures she had been referring to.

Odelia gasped.“But that’s…”

Agatha nodded.“Astra Jacobs. The woman who said she was my friend. Who promised me she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Where were these taken?” asked Odelia, the reporter in her coming alive.

“Looks like a parking garage,” said Agatha. “Whoever took these must have been spying on Oscar.”

“Could be a paparazzo,” said Odelia. “Who sent them?”

“Not someone I know,” said Agatha. “It said ‘From a well-wisher,’ though I’m not sure how well a wisher you are if you send these kinds of pictures to a man’s wife.” She sighed. “Though of course it’s better to know than to stay in the dark.”

“Yes, it is,” said Odelia emphatically. She wasn’t a big fan of cheaters, and clearly sympathized with the woman, rubbing her back and offering a cup of tea.

“No, that’s all right,” said Agatha with a faint smile of gratitude. “If I can just crash on your couch for the night, I’ll go look for Adeola in the morning.”

“Absolutely.”

And so it was decided: Agatha would sleep in our room tonight, and tomorrow, at the first light of day, she’d figure out her next course of action. Clearly she was in shock. A good night’s sleep would do her a world of good.

She now held out her hand, on which a big ring with an even bigger rock featured.

“Present from Oscar,” she said when she caught Odelia admiring the ring. “A gem for a gem, he called it.” She hesitated for a moment, then took it off. “I guess I’ll use it to pay my divorce lawyer now,” she added with a touch of regret.

“Just sleep on it,” Odelia suggested. “And tomorrow you’ll figure out what to do.”

She nodded.“Thanks so much, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“Odelia, please.” She smiled. “You may not have found the right Odelia, but at least you found a Odelia, which is better than none.”

“You’ve been most helpful,” said Agatha as she wiped at her eyes. “And most kind.”

Soon the room was dark and quiet again, only the rhythmic breathing of humans to be heard. And so I fell asleep once more, only to be awakened by a soft buzzing sound. From the position of the moon, which had shifted, I could tell that a couple of hours must have passed, and when I glanced up, I saw that Agatha’s phone’s display had lit up and she was reading a message on her device.

Moments later, she quietly got up from the couch, tiptoed to the door, opened it, and slipped out.

The door closed, and she was gone.

“Second thoughts?” Dooley whispered, who’d witnessed the same scene.

“Maybe,” I admitted.

“Could be her husband apologizing for what happened.”

“Could be,” I said, and yawned and stretched. I turned to my friend. “What do you say if we went exploring now, my friend?”

Dooley’s grin was something to behold.

“I thought you’d never ask!”

After all, nighttime is our time!

CHAPTER 7

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

When we’re home, in the lovely little hamlet of Hampton Cove, what we like to do of an evening is to head down to the local park, where almost the entire Hampton Cove cat population gathers, and spend a pleasant night shooting the breeze and generally having a wonderful time. We like to call this gathering cat choir, but basically, and between you and me, this is merely an excuse to get together. Not unlike humans need an excuse to hang out and spend time in cinemas, theaters or concerts to take in some culture and be with other humans.

I mean, would you go to the cinema when you were the only person there? Or would you have a drink at a bar if there was no one else around and the streets were all deserted? Of course not. You want people, and life, and plenty of it.

And that’s actually how we felt when we’d finally made our way to the roof of the hotel and found it was just us up there, and not the entire Paris cat contingent.

“I guess they probably gather in the Bois de Boulogne,” said Dooley sadly.

I jerked up my head to take in my friend.“What do you know about the Bois de Boulogne?” I asked.

“Oh, just that it’s a very nice forest here in Paris,” said Dooley. “Odelia was talking about it and Chase said they probably didn’t want to visit it since it’s always full of gaiety.”

I gulped. The Bois de Boulogne is indeed full of gaiety, especially at night, but of the more gay variety, which is probably what Odelia was discussing with Chase. I decided not to dwell on the subject, though it was of course entirely possible that cats did indeed flock to the forest under discussion, as did a lot of men, and other men, to be with those other men, and do mostly manly things. Together.

“So sad about Agatha Kinetic, isn’t, Max?” said Dooley, proving once more what a sensitive, feeling soul he really is.

“Yeah, it’s never pleasant to catch your husband engaging in relations with another woman,” I said.

“And with Agatha’s best friend, no less.”

“That friendship will probably be ruined now, as will that marriage.” Unless Agatha leaving the room did indeed signify that she’d gone back to her own room—or suite—to talk things through with her husband. Husbands have been known to stray, and so have wives, and still some of those marriages survive, though not without a lot of effort and healing.

We both gazed out across Paris by night, which was very nice, I have to say, with plenty of flickering lights proving that Paris really is a city of light.

“It’s very nice, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Looks very different from Hampton Cove.”

“That’s because Hampton Cove is a small town and this is a big city.”

“Is that the Eiffel Tower in the distance?”

“I think it is, yes.”

“Yep, that’s the Eiffel Tower, all right,” suddenly a voice spoke near where we were sitting. It startled us so much we both jumped about a foot in the air.

“Easy now,” said the voice, which belonged to the small black cat I’d seen that morning in the lobby. “You don’t want to fall off this roof. It’s a long way down.”

“Oh, hey,” I said. “You startled us.”

“Are you the cat burglar?” asked Dooley, panting slightly from the shock.

The cat laughed.“Cat burglar! That’s a good one. Now I’ve been called many things, but never a cat burglar!”

“Are you… Marion?” I asked. “Barnabas Sheffield’s cat?”

Her eyes were sparkling with merriment.“Now that’s more like it. You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

“Max,” I supplied. “And this is Dooley. We saw you this morning when we were checking in. Or at least,” I quickly corrected myself, “when our humans were checking in.”

“I remember,” said Marion as she took a seat, gracefully draping her tail around her buttocks. “I was wondering when I saw you, if we’d get to have a chat. Most people who arrive have dogs, you see. Almost never cats.”

“That’s because cats don’t like to travel,” said Dooley, who’d recovered from the shock and had taken a seat again.

“Absolutely,” said Marion. “Which is why I’ve never set foot outside of Paris myself, and if it’s up to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“We’re from a small town named Hampton Cove,” I said. “But our humans wanted to get away for a little while, so they decided to take this trip to Paris.”

“Chase is a cop and Odelia is a reporter,” said Dooley. “And Chase is here for a police conference.”

“And Odelia for a reporter’s conference?” Marion guessed, cocking her head a little.

“No, she’s just here to get away from home. It’s been very busy and she needed a break.”

“Don’t we all?” said Marion with a smile.

“So how is life at the Fritz-Parlton?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s absolutely grand,” said Marion. “In fact I can recommend it to anyone. It’s a lot of fun to live in a hotel, and of course we have a great kitchen that never stints for the good stuff. And my human is just the best human in the world.”

Dooley frowned.“That’s weird.”

“Why?”

“Because our human is the best human in the world.”

“I don’t think it’s a competition, Dooley. They can both be best humans in the world.”

“Oh, all right.” He puffed a little. “Is it hot up here on the roof or is it just me?”

He did look a little hot under his collar, I thought. Maybe he’d caught a bug.

Marion grinned.“Must be a hot night.”

“So you’ve always lived at the hotel?” asked Dooley.

“Do you spend a lot of time on the roof?” I asked.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Where do you live? In one of the rooms? Or a suite?”

Marion laughed and held up a paw to stem the flow of questions.“Easy, fellas. One at a time, please. Now you go first, Dooley, cause I like your eyes.”

Those eyes now went a little wider.“You like my eyes? Really?”

“They’re very kind eyes,” she said.

“Oh, boy,” said Dooley, and seemed to melt under Marion’s gaze. “So… where do you… is this… oh, it’s so hot up here—I feel like I’m melting!”

“It certainly is a warm night,” said Marion in a sort of sultry voice.

“Our humans visited the Notre Dame today,” said Dooley. “And also a woman came into our room who said her husband cheated on her and she didn’t know what to do but then she left our room again when she got a message and now we’re thinking she might be getting together with her husband again.”

My friend was babbling. Actually babbling like a brook. Had to be that bug.

“Have you heard about this cat burglar?” asked Dooley. “Your human told our humans about him.”

“Heard of him?” said Marion. “I’ve actually seen him with my own eyes!”

Now we were both stunned.“Seen him!” said Dooley.

“What did he look like?” I asked, my mind flashing to that reward money.

“Did he look like a cat?” asked Dooley. “Or like a burglar? Or both?”

“He looked like a man,” said Marion with a shrug. “Just a man, dressed in black from head to toe.”

“Did you see his face?” I asked.

“No, he was wearing a mask. And I have to say that the stories of him being a cat burglar are greatly exaggerated. I mean, did he show some acrobatic prowess? Sure. But a human can never be a real cat, of course. They don’t have the capacity. Or the bone structure.”

“You have great bone structure,” said Dooley, out of the blue.

Marion chuckled.“Why, thanks, Dooley. That’s very kind of you.”

“So what did he do, this cat burglar?” I asked.

“Well, let me think,” said Marion. “He crawled across this roof, in that direction, then let himself drop down onto one of the balconies and disappeared inside the room, only to come back out again a couple of minutes later.”

“Whose room was it, do you know?” I asked.

“I think it was the Comtesse de Vichy’s room.”

“Her gems were stolen,” I said. “Worth thousands.”

“Did you tell the police?” asked Dooley.

Marion laughed again.“You’re funny, Dooley. Now how would I tell the police?”

“No, of course,” said Dooley. “First you have to tell your human, and then he can tell the police. Only he’d have to make up a story so as not to implicate you.”

Marion simply stared at him.“What are you talking about?”

“We can talk to our human,” I explained. “Odelia? And also to her mom and grandma. The women in our family can all talk to cats, you see, and so when we see something suspicious we tell Odelia, and then she tells her husband, who’s a cop, and he goes and arrests the person responsible. It’s a solid arrangement.”

“Oh, my God, and you told me all of that with a straight face!” said Marion, marveling at my story. “You’re such a great liar, Max!”

“But he’s not lying,” said Dooley. “It’s true. We can all talk to our humans.”

“And another great liar!” said Marion, shaking her head. “Now listen, you guys, I know you think this is funny, but I don’t, all right? I hate liars, and so I must bid youadieu!” And with these words, she abruptly turned around and walked off!

We both stared after her.“What just happened?” I asked.

“Is she upset, Max?” asked Dooley. “Cause she certainly looks upset.”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “She probably thought we were pulling her paw.”

“But why would we want to pull at her paw, Max? Though she does have nice paws. Did you see her paws? I was looking at them and thinking they’re very nice to look at.” He sighed. “I could have looked at those paws for hours.”

I stared at him. I was starting to see what bug he’d caught. I should have known. It was a bug a lot of people catch when they come to Paris. A bug called love.

CHAPTER 8

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It was with a mind buzzing with questions that we finally returned to our room, deciding to spend what was left of the night in peaceful repose, ruminating on this most extraordinary meeting with a most extraordinary feline.

And we had only hopped down to the balcony and entered the room when all of a sudden a loud banging sounded at the door.

“Room service,” I said knowingly. In hotels like the Fritz-Parlton, room service is always at the highest level of service, which means they keep it going day and night, just in case one of the guests gets one of those midnight cravings.

Odelia and Chase took their sweet time waking up—humans are excellent sleepers but they always take forever to wake up, unlike us cats—but finally allowed themselves to be stirred to full wakefulness and shuffled over to the door.

“I hope they brought something for us,” said Dooley, salivating at the thought of digging his teeth into some delicious treat, as was I, I have to confess. I guess all that fresh night air had made me hungry. Then again, any air makes me hungry.

But instead of a nice room service person laden with treats and other goodies, it was none other than Agatha, and if I wasn’t mistaken, her hands, shaking violently, were covered in… blood!

“What is that stuff on Agatha’s hands?” asked Dooley.

“It looks like blood,” I said, curious about this unforeseen development.

“Agatha!” said Odelia, eyeing the stricken woman, whose face was wet with tears and who stood shaking like a leaf. “What’s wrong?!”

“She’s dead!” Agatha cried brokenly. “I arrived and the door was open, so I walked in and there she was. On the floor… blood everywhere… dead!”

“Who’s dead?” asked Chase, taking charge and escorting the woman to a nearby chair.

Agatha stared before her for a moment, the vision of the dead woman clearly prominent in her mind’s eye.

“Agatha? Who’s dead?” Odelia insisted.

“Astra,” Agatha murmured. “The knife… I felt for a pulse but… Oh, God!” And with a terrified scream she buried her face in her hands, rubbing blood all over herself.

“Better call the manager,” Odelia advised.

“On it,” said Chase curtly.

“Who’s dead?” asked Dooley.

“Astra Jacobs, apparently,” I said.

“But how? And where did all that blood come from?”

“Astra Jacobs,” I repeated. “Or so I gather.”

“Who’s Astra Jacobs?”

“An actress,” I said. “She used to play an important part in a show calledHearts& Roses, but then got into a fight with her costars and so she left the show.”

“Maybe she felt so sad about leaving the show that she killed herself?”

“It’s one possibility,” I allowed. “Though usually people don’t stab themselves.”

“She stabbed herself!”

“Agatha mentioned a knife,” I reminded him. “And where else would all of that blood have come from?”

At least now we knew why Agatha had left the room in the middle of the night: to go and pay a visit to Astra. But why? For a midnight chat?

Odelia must have been wondering the same thing, for she now asked,“Why did you go to Astra’s room?”

“She sent me a message to meet her,” said Agatha, looking up at Odelia with a haunted expression in her eyes. She looked terrible with her blood-streaked face. Like some kind of mass murderer who’s just returned from her latest massacre.

“What did she want to meet you for?” asked Odelia, who now got up and headed into the bathroom. She returned with a washcloth, which she used to clean the woman’s face and hands.

“She’s destroying evidence, Max!” Dooley whispered.

“I know.” It did seem like the humane thing to do, though. If the manager came barging into the room, with the police in tow, they’d take one look at Odelia’s charge and immediately snap a pair of handcuffs on her wrists and drag her off to the guillotine—if that’s what they still did in France. My knowledge of the French justice system might be out of date.

“I don’t know,” said Agatha. “I assumed she wanted to explain her side of the story. Maybe apologize for the role she played in the end of my marriage?”

“I see,” said Odelia, and gave the woman, who already looked a little less like a mass murderer, a heartfelt hug. Agatha sobbed and then seemed to calm down.

“He’s on his way up,” said Chase as he put the phone down. “Apparently he already knew all about it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Agatha, alarmed.

“Someone must have reported it.”

Agatha started to tremble again.“They’re going to think I did this. They’re going to think that… I murdered Astra!”

I could see that Odelia was doing some quick thinking herself.“Can you forward me Astra’s message? And maybe those pictures of her and your husband.”

Agatha sat looking numb for a moment, but suddenly a loud knock sounded at the door that jerked her back to reality. So she grabbed her phone and got busy.

And not a moment too soon, for just then, another knock made us all look up, and then the words,‘Police! Open up!’ were hollered through the thin pane.

CHAPTER 9

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I found it odd that one would ask for the manager and instead the French police would show up, but then I guess that’s how they do things in Paris. Underpromise and overdeliver, I think it’s called. At any rate, the police officer who barged his way into the room looked like he meant business. He introduced himself as Inspector Daniel Giblet, though unlike his American counterparts he neglected to produce a shiny badge to back up his claim, and immediately homed in on Agatha, who had rocketed to her feet at the sight of the long arm of the law and now stood clutching Odelia’s arm, consternation written all over her refined features.

“Agatha Kinetic?” the policeman inquired gruffly.

Agatha nodded nervously.“Yes?”

“Do you recognize this?”

And from behind his back, like a magician, he spirited a clear plastic baggie, containing a pretty big knife.

The knife had smudges of a reddish substance, which I took wasn’t ketchup, and featured an intricately carved dragon on its handle. It looked really special.

Agatha’s jaw dropped at the sight of the knife. “But… where did you get that?”

The detective’s face worked. It was a sort of squashed face, and somehow he reminded me of a butcher. Or a boxer. Or a boxing butcher. Though of course he could have been a butchering boxer. But I digress. “From the body of Astra Jacobs, now deceased.”

“What’s going on here?” asked Chase.

Inspector Giblet whirled on Chase.“And who are you?”

“This is Chase Kingsley,” Barnabas Sheffield supplied. The hotel manager had surreptitiously snuck in behind the Inspector. “An esteemed guest of my hotel. He is in fact a police officer, just like yourself,Inspecteur Giblet.”

Giblet’s eyes raked Chase’s form, then he said, “So you are a cop, eh?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Chase, crossing a pair of burly arms in front of a pretty large chest. “And may I ask what right you have to come barging into our room in the middle of the night?”

“A woman was murdered,” said the Inspector, who was dressed in a beige trench coat that had seen better days. His cheeks were graced with a five o’clock shadow, which was apt, since it was now going on five o’clock, his eyes were hooded and his demeanor gruff. “And we have reason to believethis woman killedthat woman.” For good measure he pointed a stubby, nicotine-stained finger to Agatha, just so there would be no mistake which woman he was referring to.

Agatha gasped in shock, and if she hadn’t been holding on to Odelia, she would have collapsed to the floor.

“A murderer! Me!” she cried. “You must be mad!”

“This is the knife I personally yanked out of the corpse of Astra Jacobs,” the Inspector rasped, “and you just told me you recognized it. It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Agatha hesitated, but then finally nodded.“I-it was a present from my husband’s crew. But I didn’t bring it with me, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying not only did you travel to Paris with this knife but you used it to stab and murder Astra Jacobs!”

“No!”

“Yes. And what’s more, someone saw you flee the scene of the crime just now, the blood of the victim still on your hands!”

“But I never—I mean I didn’t—”

“I think you better stop talking now, Agatha,” Chase advised.

“That’s cute,” the French cop growled. “Spoken like a true colleague.”

“We’ll get in touch with the embassy and arrange a lawyer for you,” Chase continued, ignoring the inspector.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Agatha insisted.

“So how do you explain the blood and the presence of your knife?” asked Giblet.

“When I saw Astra I immediately felt for a pulse, even though I could tell that she was probably dead. I must have gotten some of her blood on my hands. But I swear to you I didn’t kill her. She was already dead when I got there.”

“A likely story,” the Inspector sneered as he gestured to one of his people who had stood back all this time but now stepped to the fore, a pair of shiny handcuffs dangling from his fingers and clearly eager to apply them to Agatha’s wrists.

“Agatha Kinetic, you’re under arrest for the murder of Astra Jacobs!”

This time Agatha was too stunned for speech, and just stood there while the police officer shackled her, took her by the arm, and started leading her away.

“Where are you taking her?” asked Chase.

“None of your business,” said Inspector Giblet with a faint grin. Then he strode up to Chase and looked him straight in the eye. “And if I find that you’ve been tampering with evidence or are in any way connected with this crime, I won’t hesitate to haul you in as well, cop or no cop. Is that understood, Mr. Kingsley?”

“Now, really,” Barnabas murmured.

“And that goes for you, too, Mrs. Kingsley,” the inspector said as he addressed Odelia.

“And for us?” asked Dooley, who was eyeing the inspector closely and obviously was very ill at ease at the prospect of being hauled in for murder.

“Cats are rarely accused of the crimes of men, Dooley,” I said. “So I think we’re in the clear.”

“But if they arrest Odelia and Chase, what’s going to happen to us, Max! We’re in a strange place, in a strange country, surrounded by very strange people!”

“They’re not that strange. They’re just French,” I pointed out. “Besides, I don’t think anyone is going to arrest Odelia or Chase. They haven’t done anything.”

“But Agatha hasn’t done anything either, and still she’s being arrested.”

“Just a miscarriage of justice that will be cleared up in no time, I’m sure,” I said. Though of course there was always the chance that Agatha really was guilty, and had been lying to us and putting on a convincing act. Murderers are funny that way.

Though to be absolutely honest, I didn’t think so. Somehow I had the impression she was innocent. Which meant that someone was trying to frame her.

But who? And why?

CHAPTER 10

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The door slammed shut and we were alone once more. And that probably should have been that, were it not for Odelia looking extremely thoughtful.

“Uh-oh,” said Chase. “I know that look. You’re thinking about getting involved, aren’t you, babe?”

“I don’t know, Chase,” said Odelia, “but doesn’t it strike you as extremely unjust, the behavior of that French cop and the way he treated Agatha?”

“Like the man said, it’s none of our business,” said Chase as he picked up the blood-soaked washcloth and took it into the bathroom. “Even though I promised to contact the embassy on Agatha’s behalf, I’m sure Oscar Kinetic has enough money to pay for the best legal aid that money can buy. Agatha will be just fine.”

“I don’t know. She just left her husband. He’s going to think twice now about paying a lawyer to get her off. And besides, that Inspector Giblet seemed absolutely convinced that she killed Astra.”

“Well, she was seen leaving the scene of the crime, her hands covered in the victim’s blood.”

“She explained that, Chase. She was looking for a pulse.”

Chase quirked a skeptical eyebrow.“Or so she says.”

Odelia frowned at her husband.“You don’t believe her?”

Chase lifted his broad shoulders.“You have to admit she’s got a solid motive. The woman was sleeping with her husband, for crying out loud. So what if she lost her temper and ended up stabbing her? She admitted that it was her knife.”

“Which is another thing that strikes me as odd. Why would she bring a knife to Paris? Who does that?”

“A woman who intends to murder her love rival?”

“So now you’re saying it was premeditated murder?”

“All I’m saying is it’s possible.”

“She’d have to be pretty stupid to bring her knife all the way from the States to kill Astra, and make sure she’s seen leaving the room, her hands covered in blood. If she really wanted to kill the woman she could have done it any number of ways that wouldn’t have pointed to her as the killer.” She shook her head. “No, something’s off, Chase. I can feel it in my bones.”

Chase gave her a lopsided grin.“Don’t tell me. You want to go and have a look at the crime scene.”

“Will you come with me?” asked Odelia, giving her husband an imploring look. “Two pairs of eyes can spot more than one. And you’re the detective, Chase.”

“Okay, fine, but I’m not getting involved. I have my conference to go to, and you have to rest and relax, babe, not traipse around catching killers.”

“Just taking a look can’t hurt, right?”

Chase rolled his eyes, but finally relented.“Just one look. But then we drop it.”

“Promised,” said Odelia happily. She then pointed to me and Dooley. “And you guys are also coming. And if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, you tell me, all right? I got the impression this Inspector Giblet is like a dog with a bone. He’s got Agatha in his clutches and he won’t let go unless someone makes him.”

“I didn’t see a bone, Max,” said Dooley. “Did you see a bone?”

“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said. “It means that this Daniel Giblet character is tenacious and so pleased he nabbed his killer that he won’t change his mind unless we make him.”

“Oh, right,” said my friend. Then he shivered. “Do we really have to go? I’m not good with dead bodies, Max. They creep me out.”

“I know, Dooley, but if Agatha really is innocent, I’m afraid we’re going to have to prove it. And the only way to do that is to insert ourselves into the investigation and find something that proves without a shadow of a doubt that she’s innocent.”

“She didn’t look innocent. With all that blood on her hands. And then there’s that knife as well.”

“I know,” I said. “It certainly doesn’t look good for her.”

Still, Odelia had decided that she wanted to get involved, so getting involved is what we did. We headed out, Chase carefully closing the balcony window, then closing the room door behind us, just in case this cat burglar tried any funny business, and soon we all presented ourselves at the door to Astra’s room.

It wasn’t hard to know where it was, since about a dozen other hotel guests were falling over themselves to take a peek at the dead woman, only being held back by two members of Barnabas’s staff.

When we arrived there, Chase told one of them to deliver a message to the manager, which the man duly did. Moments later he returned and allowed us in, to much protest from the other guests, who clearly didn’t understand why we could enter and they could not.

“This is such a tragedy!” Barnabas cried the moment he caught sight of us. “The publicity is going to be brutal! Devastating! Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.”

“And of course there’s the fact that a life has been tragically lost,” Chase pointed out with a meaningful look at the hotel manager.

“Yes, there is that, too,” Barnabas allowed.

We’d entered the dead woman’s bedroom, and it was as Agatha had described: next to the bed, Astra was lying on her back, blood soaking the front of her satin dressing gown where she’d been stabbed in the stomach. Her lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, and she was as pale as the Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed.

“She looks dead, Max,” Dooley commented in hushed tones.

“That’s probably because she is,” I returned.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a forensic team working the room?” asked Chase. “And why isn’t there a police presence guarding the door, keeping onlookers out?”

“Inspector Giblet has sent a team,” Barnabas explained, “but they’ve been delayed by traffic.”

“Traffic? At this hour of the night?”

“This is Paris,monsieur,” said the little manager, eyeing Chase as if he’d said the silliest thing. “There is always the traffic.”

Odelia had approached the body and crouched down next to the dead woman.“Is it just me or does she look surprised?”

“She didn’t see it coming,” said the manager, shaking his head mournfully. “Just like I didn’t see this coming. Such a nice lady. And such an amazing actress. At least she enjoyed one final drink of the bubbly before she passed.” He gestured to a bottle of Veuve Clicquot on the nightstand, along with a half-filled flute.

“Any idea when she ordered that, do you know?” asked Chase.

“Three o’clock,” said the manager, “on the dot.”

“So she was alive at three o’clock?”

“Yes,monsieur. I can confirm that she was alive at three o’clock. I brought this up myself, always enjoying the opportunity to meet my very favorite actress.”

“So you saw her?”

“I did more than see her,” said the manager sadly. “I received a kiss on the cheek for my trouble. When I wished her a good night I did not know I’d never look into those beautiful eyes again. The most beautiful eyes in all the world.”

“Astra Jacobs was the best thing aboutHearts& Roses,” said Odelia. “And now she’ll never make a comeback, even she wanted to.” She sniffled as she got up.

“Too bad that ass of a police inspector arrested Mrs. Kinetic,” said Barnabas after a respectful pause. “This isn’t going to look good for the Fritz-Parlton, when the guests start murdering one another.”

“I don’t think she did it, though,” said Odelia. “I think she’s being framed.”

“Framed!” the manager cried, wringing his hands. “Madame, what do you mean?”

“She means that someone else killed Astra and is making it look as if Agatha did it,” Chase explained.

“Mais non!” said the manager, chewing on this. Then his mustachioed face cleared. “Mais oui! I, Barnabas Sheffield, have solved this heinous crime!”

“You have?” asked Chase.

“Naturellement! It is the cat burglar! I knew one of these days something like this would happen. I can see it all now. The burglar arrives, scaling the walls and securing his entrance through the balcony window like he does. The room is dark, he thinksMadame Jacobs fast asleep, or even absent from the room for a Hollywood party, so he enters, he looks around, and as he goes through the unfortunate victim’s jewelry, she wakes up, she catches him, and it is a big struggle! He stares certain doom in the face, so he grabs the knife andstabs!” As he was explaining this, he danced on his feet like a fencer, parrying and riposting.

“So what do you make of the fact that Agatha Kinetic recognized the knife as her own?” asked Odelia.

The manager waved this away.“Nonsense. Just a superficial resemblance. She told us herself she left her knife at home! No, this is a different knife. This is the knife of the cat burglar! And now he has tasted blood, he is going to strike again! And again!” He suddenly turned to Odelia, his hands folded in a pleading gesture. “You have to catch this man, Mrs. Kingsley. I will double the reward.”

“But…”

“Triple it! Thirty thousand Euros if you catch this cat burglar—this cat… killer!”

“I don’t know,” said Odelia with an incredulous laugh. “I’m just a tourist, Mr. Sheffield.”

“Barney, please—all my friends call me Barney.”

“I don’t know… Barney.” She gave her husband a quick look.

The latter stood shaking his head, but when his wife now glanced in his direction, I could tell that he knew which way the wind was blowing.“I have my conference,” he reminded her. “And I didn’t travel three thousand miles to tell them I’m dropping out because of some mysterious death at my hotel. Besides, what’s your uncle going to think?”

Odelia’s uncle is Chief of Police of our small town, and he was the one who had delegated Chase to represent his police department at this conference.

“No, but that’s fine,” said Odelia. “You do your conference, and I’ll dig around here. Maybe talk to a couple of people and try to find out what happened.”

“But—”

“Chase, please. Think of Agatha. Being locked up in a French prison.”

“French prisons are not so nice,” said Barney. “Mrs. Kinetic won’t like them.”

Chase dragged his hands through his hair, but finally relented.“Okay, fine. But you have to promise me to be extra-careful, all right? Super, super careful.”

“I will,” said Odelia. “I’m always careful.”

“Except that time when she was almost killed,” said Dooley. “Or was it two times? Or three?”

Good thing Chase couldn’t understand what Dooley was saying, or he would definitely have put his foot down. Two feet, even.

Then again, thirty thousand Euros does buy a lot of diapers.

CHAPTER 11

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The people at the door were getting restless, and a lady, holding up her phone like a battering ram, forced her way into the room, eager to see the celebrity victim. Chase was right: they needed a police presence ASAP, or soon the entire hotel would be in there, satisfying their taste for the sensational and the ghoulish.

“Astra—oh, no!” the new arrival cried. I recognized her as Amalia Pulpweed, with Penney Langner and Natalie Skinner close on her heels. The three former costars of the dead woman now broke out into loud laments, clearly heartbroken about the death of the fourth member of their famous combo.

“Who did this!” Natalie demanded heatedly. “I’ll rip them to shreds! I’ll tear them limb from limb!”

“How could they,” Penney murmured, her face crumpling like a used tissue as tears rolled down her cheeks. “She was the best of us. She was the sweetest, the nicest, the funniest—”

“She was all that and much, much more,” Amalia agreed. “She was a legend. The best person I ever knew—ever worked with.” Then she stole a look in Odelia and Chase’s direction. “Are you in charge of the investigation?”

“Who did this!” Natalie roared, shaking her fist as she directed a scornful look at the ceiling, as if demanding an urgent answer from God himself. “Tell me!”

“It was the cat burglar,” Barney said quietly. “He committed this unspeakable act of villainy. He robbed Mrs. Jacobs and when she caught him in the act, he panicked and then he stabbed her. Viciously! With no regard for human life!”

There was a wail of agony from Penney, a stunned look from Natalie, and a frowny face from Amalia.“The cat burglar?” the latter asked. “What cat burglar? What are you talking about?”

“We haven’t told anyone, but a cat burglar is on the prowl,” said the manager, clearly ill at ease now that he was confiding his deepest troubles to these three famous women—his idols. “But we are on top of him. In fact I have just retained the services of America’s top investigator, Mrs. Odelia Kingsley, who is going to look into this and who will catch the criminal and bring him to justice.” He beamed at Odelia, who looked a lot less excited than the manager’s high praise warranted. “And her husband is a cop,” Barney added for good measure. “So there is that.”

“Huh,” said Amalia, studying Odelia and Chase with unveiled interest. “So you’re going to solve the murder of our friend?”

“I’m going to give it my very best shot,” Odelia promised.

“You’re American!” Penney gasped, and her face lit up with delight. “Oh, that’s so great.”

“Do you have a lead?” asked Natalie, her face a mask of stoicism. “Or are you simply groping in the dark?”

“I don’t have a lead as yet,” Odelia admitted. “But I’ve only just started.”

“Mh,” said Natalie, clearly unimpressed.

“If you could make yourselves available,” said Odelia. “I’d like to sit down with all three of you for a chat.”

“A chat!” Natalie cried, aghast.

“I’m okay with that,” said Penney with a weak smile.

“I’m afraid I have a pretty busy schedule,” said Amalia as she glanced at the dead woman. “A very, very busy schedule.”

“Surely you can spare some time to talk to this nice lady,” said Penney. “Especially when she’s just told us she’s going to catch whoever did this to our friend?”

Amalia rolled her eyes.“Oh, fine. I guess I can spare five minutes. Have your people call my people,” she told Odelia, “and let’s make this happen.”

“I’ll sit down with you right now if you want,” said Penney, ignoring the scoffing sound Natalie made.

“No, that’s fine,” said Odelia. “It’s late. We’ll do it tomorrow, if that’s all right with you.”

“Absolutely,” said Penney. She expelled a deep sigh. “I loved Astra. She was a real hoot.”

“Look, I don’t want to seem callous, but if you want to talk to me you’ll have to go through my lawyer,” said Natalie. “If he gives you the all-clear, fine. If not…”

Just then, a man staggered into the room, a broken look on his face. It was Oscar Kinetic, Agatha’s husband. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, dear God, no!”

“It’s true, Oscar,” said Penney, taking his hand.

“This isn’t happening!”

“It happened.”

“This can’t possibly be true!”

“I couldn’t believe it myself at first, but it happened, Oscar.”

“Not Astra!” the producer cried as he fell down to his knees at Astra’s feet and made to touch them.

Chase placed a forbidding hand on his shoulder, though, and tsk-tsked a little, and the producer withdrew his hands from the dead woman’s feet.

“Why is it always the best who go first?” asked Penney. I had the impression it was a rhetorical question, but Oscar answered it anyway.

“Because life isn’t fair, that’s why!” he bellowed, shaking an irate fist, then tapping his heart for some reason, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“He seems very upset, Max,” said Dooley.

“Yes, he does,” I said, eyeing the man closely.

“So do you think Agatha was right and he was having an affair with Astra?”

“I’m starting to lean that way myself,” I admitted.

Oscar was putting in an Oscar-worthy performance of grief, rocking back and forth, tears trickling down whiskered cheeks. He was a short, chunky sort of man, with a jowly face, though it was hard to make out its exact contours on account of all the ginger fuzz covering those jowls. The top of his head was as bald as a billiard ball, and made for a fascinating landscape of ridges and moles and lots of weird spots. One could spend hours looking at it—like the surface of the moon.

“What’s all that stuff on his head, Max?” asked Dooley. “He looks like a ripe cheese.”

“Liver spots,” I said, though I’m not a dermatologist, of course.

“Liver spots? So why are they on his head and not on his liver?”

“They’re spots that signal liver issues,” I explained. “Generally when the liver is healthy it reflects in an equally healthy radiant skin. When the liver is damaged it will show in spots popping up in odd places.” Like on top of this man’s head.

“He should get a wig,” was Dooley’s opinion. “A liver wig.”

It was one solution, of course, though I had the distinct impression now was not the time to talk about wigs and livers. Oscar Kinetic was clearly shaken by the death of his lover.

“Mr. Kinetic, may I introduce Odelia Kingsley,” said Barney, not wasting time furthering the investigation he’d instigated and boosting his appointee’s chances of success in collaring the killer. “She is in charge of the investigation into the murder of Mrs. Jacobs.”

But Oscar barely paid him any attention. His eyes were riveted to Astra’s dead form, and remained firmly lodged in place.

“Oscar, you’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Amalia now said.

“Yeah, just get up, will you?” said Natalie. “People are going to think you had something to do with this.” She eyed Odelia with a distinct lack of warmth.

And as Penney helped Oscar to his feet, yet another intrusion occurred as a youngish sort of person entered, looking distinctly breathless as he looked around. Then his eyes fell on Amalia and he drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t considerate, cleared his throat, and said, “Madame, I have in my possession a traffic ticket that I will now proceed to place in your possession.”

“Oh, buzz off,” said Amalia unceremoniously, and walked out, leaving the young man blinking in abject confusion.

“But, but, but…” he stuttered.

“Try again tomorrow,” was Natalie’s advice as she clapped the man on the back.

“She’s had a great shock,” said Penney as she gave him a kindly look and followed Amalia and Natalie out of the room.

It was only then that he spotted the dead person. He uttered a strangled sound, his eyes turned up in his head and he fainted right there and then.

Oh, what a night.

CHAPTER 12

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That night—or at least what was left of it—while Odelia and Chase slept, Dooley and I discussed the case. What there was of a case, of course, since Odelia’s investigation had yet to commence.

“I wonder what color eyes Marion has,” said Dooley dreamily. “I personally think they’re a sort of dark chocolaty brown. You?”

“I thought we were going to talk about Astra Jacobs’s murder,” I said, amused by Dooley’s sudden interest in Barney’s cat.

“Oh, right, of course,” said Dooley, pulling himself from his musings. “Well, obviously the cat burglar did it and Agatha is innocent. Only I think it’s going to be very hard to prove it.”

“And why is that?” I asked, though I had been leaning in that direction myself.

“Well, we’re not in Hampton Cove anymore, Max. We’re in Paris, where we don’t know anyone, so it’s going to be more difficult to figure out what happened.”

“Because we can’t talk to Kingman, or Shanille, or Clarice, and we don’t have Harriet and Brutus here with us,” I said, referring to all our friends back home.

He stared at me.“Well, that, too, of course. But I was thinking more about Uncle Alec. He’s always careful to do the right thing, and to arrest the right person. But here in Paris this Inspector Giblet doesn’t seem to care that he just arrested the wrong suspect. As long as he arrests someone, he’s happy.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t come across as the discerning type,” I agreed. “And if we can’t prove that Agatha is innocent by producing the real killer, Agatha will probably spend the rest of her life in a French prison, expensive lawyers or not.”

“I think we should ask Marion to help us,” said Dooley, placing his head on his paws and adopting that dreamy look again. “She saw the cat burglar, and so she can help us catch him.”

“She didn’t look very happy with us, though,” I said. “It might be hard to convince her to help us with this investigation.”

“She’ll come around,” Dooley assured me. “All we have to do is prove to her that we actually can talk to Odelia and she’ll believe us and she’ll want to help us.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re very charming, Max!”

“Me!”

“Of course. Everybody knows that women are attracted to intelligence and wit, and you have a lot of both.”

“Huh,” I said, momentarily speechless.

“And I have my cuddly personality to win her over,” he added with a light sigh.

“Cuddly personality,” I repeated, not believing what I was hearing.

“I think we should go out there again tomorrow night,” said Dooley, “and this time take Odelia along with us.”

“What, on the roof?”

“Of course! Unless we can lure Marion to our room and give her a demonstration of the way we talk to Odelia and she talks back.”

“Mh,” I said.

It was an idea, of course. And admittedly we could use Marion’s help. We were on unfamiliar ground, and the hotel was her home, after all, so she might prove invaluable to Odelia’s investigation.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “Tomorrow first thing, we go look for her in the lobby. And somehow we convince her that we weren’t pulling her paw but that we’re for real and that it’s in her human’s best interest if we all work together to pull off this investigation. Thenif she still thinks we’re full of nonsense, Odelia will pop out from behind the rhododendron and repeat verbatim what we just said.”

“Why a rhododendron?”

“Never mind the rhododendron. What do you think of my plan?”

“I like it. But I don’t like the location. That lobby is a dangerous place for a cat, Max. Full of people who don’t look where they’re going. We might get trampled.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” But then I had it. “So let’s set it up in Barney’s office! A safe place, and familiar to Marion. And if her own human tells her to cooperate, I’m sure she won’t refuse.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Dooley happily as we high-fived to a successful outcome. He sighed. “They could be green, of course.”

“What could be green?”

“Marion’s eyes. A sparkly green.”

Oh, boy. The kid had it bad. Real bad!

CHAPTER 13

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In the bright light of day, Odelia wondered if she’d made a mistake when agreeing to take the investigation into the murder of Astra Jacobs in hand. She might be able to crack the odd case back home from time to time, but here in Paris she didn’t have the network she had in Hampton Cove. She had the support of Barney Sheffield and his team, but that was it.

She had no police powers, no jurisdiction, no way of putting pressure on potential suspects—heck, she hardly even spoke French!

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes to Barney,” she said now as she pulled on a pair of jeans—not the skinny ones like before, since having a baby had done strange things to her hips and thighs—and addressed her always-sensible husband.

“Just give it a shot, babe, and don’t expect too much,” said Chase as he checked the day’s itinerary on his phone. He was supposed to give a speech, and had been fretting a little about that. He might be an ace detective, but public speaking freaked him out as much as the next person.

“You think so?” she said dubiously. “I can always tell him I’ve changed my mind.” After all, she wasn’t in Paris to solve cases but to enjoy a relaxing vacation and see the sights.

Chase framed her face between two large, warm hands.“I know you, babe. If you don’t do this, you’ll just keep thinking about it, and wondering if you shouldn’t have taken on the case after all. So just go ahead and give it your best shot.”

“If you say so.”

“And if it doesn’t work? That’s fine, too. The police will handle it, I’m sure. Or Barney can bring in some other detective.”

“But I want to win that reward money. We can put it in Grace’s college fund.”

“You know as well as I do that you’re not doing this for the reward money. Not really.”

She nodded quietly. He was right. She didn’t really care about the reward money. All she cared about was making sure that a miscarriage of justice was being prevented and that Agatha walked free.

“I have a hunch she’s innocent, Chase, but what if she isn’t?”

“If you have a hunch that she didn’t do it, I’d say trust that hunch. It’s served you well enough in the past.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips and released her to her musings. After giving the matter some more thought, she finally decided to honor her promise to Barney and go ahead with the investigation. First things first, though. She needed to have a chat with Agatha before she launched into a full-blown search for Astra’s killer.

“Can I hitch a ride with you? The police station is on the way to the conference venue.”

“Sure thing,” said Chase warmly. “In fact you could help me out a lot by giving my speech a read-through.”

“You’ll do just great,” she assured her hubby. She’d already read snippets of his speech and thought he’d done an amazing job.

“Yeah, but I made some last-minute tweaks and I’m not sure if they’re an improvement or will sink the whole thing.”

She glanced to the balcony, where Max and Dooley were enjoying some leisurely time in the early morning sun. They’d been going on about someone named Marion and how they needed to set up a meeting with her in the manager’s office. Not sure what that was all about.

“Have you heard of a person named Marion?” she now asked. “She’s supposed to be connected with Barney in some capacity.”

Chase shrugged as he buttoned up his crisp white shirt.“Manager’s assistant, maybe? Or one of the receptionists? Why?”

“Max and Dooley seem to think she could be very important to my investigation. They want to set up a meeting with this Marion in Barney’s office.”

Chase grinned.“Your cats never cease to amaze me, babe. They keep digging up clues and coming up with witnesses, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they sure do,” she agreed, though she wasn’t sure how useful they’d prove to be this time around. Like her, they had no access to their usual network of informants. Oh, well, as far as she was concerned, they could sit this one out and enjoy some time off from sleuthing and detectingfor a change.

“Max! Dooley!” she said. “We’re leaving!”

Her two cats came tripping into the room and watched her with a sad sort of expression on their furry faces.“Leaving so soon?” asked Dooley.

“Where are you going?” asked Max.

“I told you guys. I’m off to visit Agatha. Find out if there’s anything she didn’t tell us last night.”

“Can we come?” asked Max anxiously.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “Agatha is in police custody, and I don’t think they’d appreciate it when I bring two cats along with me for the interview. It’s a miracle Inspector Giblet is allowing me to talk to her in the first place, seeing as I’m not a lawyer.”

“But… when you talk to suspects in Hampton Cove, Uncle Alec always lets us join you.”

She smiled.“Yes, but Uncle Alec isn’t here right now, is he? This is a different place, Max. And this Daniel Giblet isn’t as nice and easygoing as my uncle.”

“Or as susceptible to breaking his own rules,” Chase grunted. He checked his watch. “We better get a move on. I don’t want to be late for the first day of my conference.”

She carefully closed the balcony window—you never knew if that cat burglar would become active during the daytime as well—said goodbye to Max and Dooley, and then they were off.

CHAPTER 14

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Odelia hadn’t known what to expect from the circumstances in which Inspector Giblet would put his prisoner, but when the cab dropped her off at the precinct, she found that Agatha seemed to be treated in a reasonable fashion, and hadn’t been starved to death, tortured or kept in isolation.

She talked to the woman in an office provided by Giblet himself, but had to accept that one of his officers kept a close eye on them throughout the interview.

“How are they treating you?” she asked anxiously, for Agatha looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her eyes, red-rimmed and fluttery, kept darting glances to the window, her skin seemed almost translucent and her hair had a few strands of gray she hadn’t seen there last night. She seemed to have aged considerably in the short time since her arrest.

“Okay, I guess,” said Agatha quietly. “I’m seeing a lawyer this afternoon, one that Oscar has arranged for me, so that’s good.”

“You have to prove that the knife wasn’t yours,” Odelia insisted. “Do you have someone in the States who can find the original knife and have it sent here? That way you can prove that the knife that was used to murder Astra couldn’t possibly be yours.”

Agatha shrugged. She gave a particularly listless expression, Odelia thought. As if all the fight had gone out of her overnight.“What good will that do? They’ll simply say I had two knives, or I had someone in the States go out and buy a similar knife and produce it as evidence.” She sighed deeply. “No, they’re convinced I did this, Odelia. And nothing I say will make a difference.”

“But you have to—”

Suddenly Agatha leaned forward and fixed Odelia with an anxious look.“There’s one thing you can do for me. Something very, very important.”

“Of course. Anything.” She’d already told Agatha that she’d agreed to take the case in hand and try and prove her innocence, but the woman had merely nodded, not impressed.

“Can you give a message to Tucker?”

“Your son?”

Agatha nodded emphatically.“Tell him…” She hesitated. “Tell him to take the next flight home. Don’t stick around. Get on the first plane out of Paris. Leave today.”

“I’m not sure he’ll listen to me. Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

“They won’t let me talk to anyone. Only you and my lawyer.”

“Have you considered that he might want to stick around? He’s bound to be worried about you, Agatha. Instead of him flying home alone, you have to fight and prove your innocence any way you can. Get out of here. Fly home together.”

Suddenly tears filled the woman’s eyes and she squeezed them shut, causing them to spill over and streak down her pale cheeks. “I just wish… I could hold him in my arms, you know. One last time, before…”

“Hey, hey!” said Odelia, clasping a comforting hand on Agatha’s arm. But then the police officer behind her cleared her throat and she quickly released her grip. “You hang in there, you hear? We’re going to get you out of here, all right? It might take a little time, but you didn’t do this, and you’re going to get out of here soon.”

Agatha nodded.“You’re right. I shouldn’t… I mean…” She cleared her throat and composed herself. “The most important thing is that Tucker is safe. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and that’s the main thing.”

“Okay,” said Odelia. “You know what? I’ve got some interviews lined up later today, but I’ll make sure to talk to your son first.”

“I’d like that,” said Agatha with a weak smile. “I’d like that very much.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Now I want you to think hard, Agatha, and tell me if there’s anything you haven’t told me about last night. Anything at all. Something you saw, something you heard—some detail we missed?”

Agatha thought for a moment, then shook her head.“I told you everything I know.”

“You got a message from Astra and went over there and found her dead on the floor next to the bed?”

“The door was ajar, which didn’t strike me as odd, since I figured Astra was expecting me, so she would have left the door open.”

“And you didn’t think it strange that she would want to talk to you? In the middle of the night?”

“Not particularly. Artists live in a different reality than you and me. They don’t work a nine-to-five day. They can sleep all day and be up all night. I just figured she’d just found out from Oscar that I knew about the affair and wanted to apologize or explain.”

“What kind of a relationship did you and Astra have? You said you were friends?”

“I thought we were. Though it’s been a while since we last talked. Ever since she quit the show things have been awkward between us, as you can imagine.”

“She walked off the set of the final season ofHearts& Roses… six years ago?”

“Seven,” said Agatha. “Oscar was devastated when that happened, because it meant the end of a very successful show for him. His first big hit, in fact.”

“Do you think he was having an affair with her seven years ago and rekindled their romance here in Paris?”

“I’m not sure. I confronted him last night, but he swore up and down it was all lies. Said he’d never been involved with Astra. Not when she was part of the show, not now.”

“So he denies the whole thing?”

Agatha nodded, darting nervous glances to the door, as if expecting Inspector Giblet to walk in any moment and end the interview.“I showed him the pictures, and he said they must have been doctored.”

“Doctored?”

“Photoshopped. Said it was all nonsense. A fabrication. He blamed the tabloids for trying to create a sensational story. And he blamed me for falling into their trap.”

“But you didn’t believe him.”

“It’s not the first time Oscar has been unfaithful to me.”

“He’s had affairs before?”

“One affair, which almost ended our marriage. The only reason we stayed together was because Tucker was still small, and we didn’t want to do that to him.” She chewed her lip as she thoughtfully gazed into space, her mind clearly cast back to those dark days when her marriage had been on the rocks.

“May I ask—who was the person he was having an affair with that time?”

Agatha glanced down the table and produced a mirthless laugh.“You can’t tell this to anyone but… it was Amalia. Amalia Pulpweed.”

CHAPTER 15

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“It’s very hard to conduct a murder inquiry when you’re locked up in a hotel room, Max,” said Dooley as we both stared listlessly out the window.

“You can say that again,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

“At least Odelia could have left that window open, so we could move around the hotel and talk to people. Or cats.”

“I’m not sure we’ll find any cats to talk to,” I said, “apart from Marion, that is.”

Dooley’s face took on a beatific expression at the mention of the adored feline.

“I’m sure that Marion will be able to help us crack this case,” he said, his confidence in the manager’s cat knowing no bounds. “She must have seen that cat burglar last night, and will be able to tell us who he is.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said, more cautious than my friend. “Though she did mention last night that she didn’t see his face, on account of the mask he was wearing.”

“Now isn’t that annoying? Why are crooks and criminals always wearing masks, I wonder? It’s just not fair.”

“To avoid detection?” I suggested, stating the obvious.

“Mh,” he said, not convinced.

We’d more or less patiently waited for Odelia to return, but still there was no sign of her. Nor had that nice room service person shown up again, showering us with gifts and some really great food. When Harriet and Brutus would ask us how our trip to Paris had been, all I’d be able to tell them was that we’d never seen so much of a single hotel room before, not even that time when we’d gone on a cruise with our humans. At least that time we’d been able to move around the ship and see the sights. Though there had been big birds who’d pestered us a lot.

“It’s pretty boring being inside a room all the time,” said Dooley. “I wonder how people do it.”

“They watch television, I guess. Or pay-per-view.”

“What’s pay-per-view?”

“Oh, well, you know,” I said evasively. “It’s like television, only you pay for it.”

“Pay for what?”

“Sports?” I suggested. I didn’t want to tell him that the most requested pay-per-view channels in hotels are often of a distinctly erotic nature. Then again, I guess erotica is a kind of sport. It does involve a lot of movement, plenty of stamina and some acrobatic prowess. Though I doubt youcan win any medals.

Just then, the door swung open, and much to our delight, Odelia walked in, looking thoughtful.

“So? How was it?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said as she took a seat next to us on the bed. The excellent box spring mattress gently bounced. “Agatha seemed… out of sorts somehow.”

“I guess being arrested for murder will do that to a person,” I said.

“Yeah, of course. Only… she kept harping on the fact that I should take care of her son Tucker. And she also seemed unusually unwilling to do what it takes to prove her innocence.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I told her to produce the knife Inspector Giblet says she used to stab Astra, which according to Agatha is safely tucked away in a drawer back home in the States. But when I suggested she get a member of her household staff to ship it here so she can prove it wasn’t her knife that killedAstra, she seemed reluctant to take my advice.”

“She’s not thinking straight,” said Dooley. “It happens when you witness a crime. It’s all fine for us to see a dead body—we’re used to that kind of thing by now. But for a layperson like Agatha, it’s shocking.”

I distinctly remembered how Dooley had almost passed out the night before when he caught sight of Astra’s mortal remains, but chose to keep my tongue. For some reason Dooley was acting a little strangely, I thought. More self-assured somehow. Even, dare I say it, cocky?

“Look, I told Agatha I’ll do whatever it takes to prove her innocence, and that’s what I’ll do,” said Odelia as she slapped her thighs for some reason. “And I sincerely hope you’ll assist me. Just like you do back home.”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “Absolutely.”

“It’s Marion we need to talk to,” said Dooley. “She’ll be able to identify the cat burglar, and I’m convinced he’s the killer.”

“Okay, so who is this Marion person?” asked Odelia. “And where can I find her?”

“On the roof, mostly,” said Dooley. “Though during the day she often spends time in the lobby. But Max and I figured we’d better meet her in the manager’s office, since that’s familiar ground for her, and we can prove once and for all that humans can talk to cats.”

Odelia started a little.“But Dooley, that’s our little secret, remember? Nobody is supposed to know about that.”

“Oh, but Marion won’t mind. In fact she needs to know. Otherwise she’ll get upset again, and walk away from us like she did last night on the roof.”

Odelia stared at him for a moment, then her face broke into a big smile.“Marion is a cat, isn’t she? That black cat belonging to Barney that we saw yesterday when we checked in?”

“Of course,” said Dooley. “What did you think?”

“Doesn’t matter what I thought,” said Odelia, getting up. “Let’s go downstairs and start on those interviews. Barney said he’d set them up in his office and I want you guys to be there and pay close attention.”

“Okay, but first we talk to Marion, right?” said Dooley. “She’s very nice. And also very pretty. And I think she has green eyes, though it could also be chocolate. Or maybe even a sort of dark caramel with flecks of gold.” He sighed excitedly. “She’s wonderful. And very saucy.”

Odelia locked eyes with me. I gave her a significant look and she flashed me a grin, then made a heart with her fingers and I nodded in confirmation.

She patted Dooley on the head.“Sweet Dooley. My sweet, sweet Dooley.”

Now it was Dooley’s turn to give me a curious look, but I just grimaced and hopped off the bed. We had work to do. And a woman’s innocence to prove!

CHAPTER 16

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Unfortunately for Dooley, when we arrived in the lobby Marion was nowhere to be found. So no interview in close quarters with the saucy feline for now. Instead we encountered Tucker Kinetic in Barney’s office, who’d apparently been waiting for us there impatiently, and looking distinctly unhappy.

Agatha’s son was a handsome young man in his early twenties with a sort of floppy blond mane and one of those square jaws that used to be all the rage in Hollywood’s leading men once upon a time. Maybe they still are. Just that you don’t see them that often. Nowadays it’s the more sensitive type with the pointy chin who’s in vogue. That and the overly muscular he-man. When we entered the office, he was in Barney’s chair behind Barney’s desk, one leg dangling over the side of the chair and smoking a cigarette, aiming a plume at the ceiling.

“Oh, finally,” he said. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

“I’m very sorry,” said Odelia as she pulled out the chair in front of the desk and took a seat. “I went to visit your mom at the police station, and it took longer than I expected.”

Immediately the young man’s anger dissipated. “How is she?” he asked, swinging both legs to the floor and bending forward. “I called the precinct but they basically gave me the runaround. And then when I finally got someone on the phone who spoke English they said no one is allowed to see her.”

“They made an exception for me,” said Odelia. “She said to tell you she loves you and to take good care of yourself. She also wants you to fly home on the earliest available flight.”

Tucker seemed taken aback by this message from his mother.“Fly home? But I can’t. Not while she’s locked up. I have to be here for her. I can’t possibly go home now.”

“She was very adamant about it. I had the impression she’d feel much better when she knows you’re safe and sound in the States.”

“Look, I can’t go home now,” said the kid. “So I’m going to stick around, no matter what she says.” He gave Odelia an anxious look. “Has she confessed? Did she really do it? Kill Astra, I mean.”

“No, she hasn’t confessed. She says she got a message from Astra last night, to come to her room to talk about… certain things. And when she got there Astra was already dead.”

Tucker blew out a breath of relief and raked his floppy do with his fingers.“Thank God. For a moment there I didn’t know what to think. Dad told me Mom had been arrested for murder, so naturally I assumed the worst.”

“Didn’t your dad tell you she’s innocent?”

“No, he didn’t. Well, I mean, he has no clue what’s going on, as usual. Just that Astra is dead and Mom is in a French jail someplace. He doesn’t even seem to know where or how we’re going to get her out of there. The man is clueless.”

“Did you know about the affair your dad was having with Astra?”

Tucker grimaced.“No, I didn’t, though it doesn’t surprise me. Him and Astra had a thing going on years ago, so it just stands to reason they would get together again the moment they met. Astra has always had a lot of sex appeal, and Dad loves that kind of thing. He’s a sucker for a ‘sexy lady.’ Just can’t help himself.”

He’d made air quotes and Odelia asked, “You didn’t think Astra was sexy?”

He shrugged and took his cigarette from the plastic cup he was using as an ashtray and took a long drag.“Not particularly, no,” he said finally. “At least I couldn’t see the big attraction. Frankly I thought she was vulgar, but then Dad always had lousy taste.”

“He did marry your mom,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, well, that’s probably the one time in his life he did something sensible. Not that he would agree with me. He’s always taken Mom for granted, and he still does now.” He leaned in with a frown. “So if Mom didn’t kill Astra, then who did?”

“There seems to be a strong possibility that a burglar could be responsible,” said Odelia carefully.

“A burglar? You mean Astra was robbed?”

“The police will have that information, but if she was, they’re not sharing it with me, unfortunately. But there has been a cat burglar active at the hotel for the past two weeks, and he has made several victims, so it’s definitely a possibility.”

Tucker frowned as he mulled this over.“A cat burglar, huh? How about that?”

“The thing that’s puzzling is that Astra was killed with a knife that’s an exact copy of a knife belonging to your mom,” said Odelia as she took out her phone. She showed a crude drawing she’d made of the knife to Tucker, who nodded.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen that. Mom got it as a present at a shoot or something.”

“So your mom claims the knife is still where she left it, but when I suggested she have it shipped over here so she can prove to the police that there are in fact two knives in circulation now, so the murder weapon couldn’t possibly have been hers, she didn’t seem to want to pursue that option. Any idea why that is?”

The young man frowned, drawing wrinkles in his smooth brow.“Yeah, that’s pretty odd. If this knife can prove her innocence, why doesn’t she want to have it shipped here?”

“It was my impression she seems to have resigned herself to being accused and convicted of this murder.”

“She’s being set up, that’s obvious,” said the kid. “If that knife was used as the murder weapon, whoever did this was trying to set her up.” He blinked at the cigarette smoke crinkling up into his eyes. “Are you sure it was Astra who sent her that message? Maybe someone was trying tolure her to that room to set her up?”

“That’s some great thinking,” Odelia murmured as she jotted down a note. “And one I hadn’t thought of, to be absolutely honest. Though I’m sure the police will have checked both your mom and Astra’s phones by now.”

“Look, if Mom was set up, and that knife seems to prove that she was, I can think of only one person who would do that to her.”

“Who?”

The kid shrugged.“Dad, of course.”

“You think your dad would set your mom up for murder?”

“Sure. I mean, if he was having an affair with Astra, and he wanted to get rid of mom without risking a costly divorce.”

“But why would your dad murder his mistress?”

“Because they had a fight? You don’t know my dad, Mrs. Kingsley. The man has a wicked temper. He can fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. When things don’t go his way, better watch out.”

“Does he get aggressive?”

“Sure, absolutely. I once saw him hit Mom. I mean, he immediately apologized, and it was only a slap across the cheek, but still. You just don’t do that, do you?”

“No, you definitely don’t,” said Odelia, and I could see that she was wondering why Agatha hadn’t told her all of this.

“Look, I’m not saying he murdered her in cold blood. They had an affair years ago, met again here in Paris, hooked up, only they had some lovers’ tiff, and he ended up killing her. So the guy doesn’t know what to do, he’s panicking, and then he suddenly decides this is the perfect opportunity to get rid of his wife. So he sends that message from Astra’s phone, and then all he has to do is sit back and let the police do the rest. Mom will go to jail for murder, and Dad can get his divorce, free of charge. No expensive lawyers, no settlement. He’s home free.”

“So you think your dad has been wanting to get a divorce for a while?”

Curtis nodded vigorously.“I know for a fact that things haven’t been great between them for years. They don’t think I know, but Dad had that affair with Astra years ago, and he’s had other affairs with other women. But they’ve stayed together for my sake. And then one of my dad’s friends got divorced and the guy got, like, totally fleeced by his ex. Had to pay millions. So that really spooked him.”

“But if what you’re saying is true, then maybe the knife that was used really is your mom’s knife. And your dad brought it to Paris, maybe for this exact purpose.”

Tucker whistled through his teeth.“Which would mean he meant to kill Astra all along.”

“You really think your dad would go that far?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Kingsley,” said Tucker thoughtfully. “But yeah. Actually I do.”

It was obvious here sat a kid who wasn’t all that fond of his dad, otherwise he wouldn’t throw him under the bus like this.

“One more question,” said Odelia. “Where were you last night, Tucker? Let’s say between three and five in the morning?”

“Out,” said Tucker curtly. “They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but the same can be said about Paris. This town rocks, and I’ve been taking full advantage of the fact.”

“So you were out all night?”

“Got in at six this morning.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Just about a dozen different people.”

“Okay, then you better write down the names of those people and ask them to come forward when the police asks. Though frankly I don’t expect them to. They seem very convinced that they already have their suspect locked up.”

“I really want to see her, Mrs. Kingsley,” said Tucker, scooting forward in his chair. “Can you make that happen, maybe?”

“I think you better get in touch with your mom’s lawyer,” Odelia suggested, “and see if he can’t arrange for you to see her.” She shrugged. “I’m just as much a stranger in this place as you are, Tucker. Meaning I have no pull at all. Zip.”

CHAPTER 17

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After Tucker had left, we waited for Oscar to show up, but when he didn’t, Odelia decided to go look for the producer herself. Clearly the man had more important things on his mind than to try and clear his wife’s name. Then again, if he really was the actual killer, why would he cooperate with the investigation?

We found him in his suite on the top floor of the hotel, and when he opened the door for us, he looked less than pleased.

“What do you want?” he barked as he hurried back into his suite.

The room was nice—much nicer than ours, I have to say. But then Oscar probably was slightly richer than we were.

“I wanted to ask you some questions about Astra’s murder,” said Odelia, glancing around and taking in the opulence of the suite.

“I like this room, Max,” Dooley confessed. “I think I could probably get used to living in a room like this.”

“Me, too,” I said. “And they’ve got a lot more balconies than we have,” I pointed out as we did a quick tour of the suite, through the living room, a dining room, a study, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and then back into the living room.

“I like the feeling of those plush carpets underpaw,” said Dooley. He was right. It was nice to sink into those high-pile carpets. Very pleasant sensation, I thought.

But then of course we weren’t there to rate the carpets but to interview Oscar Kinetic.

“Honestly, I got no time for you now, Mrs. King,” said Oscar gruffly as he groped around for his phone and a thick sheaf of documents.

“Kingsley.”

“I’ve got a shoot to run, and we’re already behind schedule, so you’ll have to excuse me but—”

“You’re not going to keep shooting the show?” said Odelia, aghast at such callousness in the face of recent events.

“Of course. What do you think? We’ve got a strict schedule, and if we don’t deliver on time there will be fines and a lot of hollering from the network. A shoot is a fine-tuned machine with lots of moving parts. You don’t close it down without consequences. Heck, if we pulled the plug now we might never start up again.”

“I see,” said Odelia with a touch of coldness. “I visited your wife this morning.”

“Oh?” He hardly seemed interested. “Walk with me,” he said curtly, and headed for the door. We had no other option than to follow his lead. He slammed the door shut and hurried to the elevators. “I’ve been meaning to go but this inspector what’s-his-face keeps giving us the runaround.”

“I wanted to ask about your affair with Astra,” said Odelia, who had trouble keeping up with the tubby producer, who was fast in spite of his modest height.

“What affair? What are you talking about?”

“The affair you had with Astra,” Odelia insisted, taking out her own phone and showing him the pictures Agatha had sent of the producer and his former star.

We’d reached the elevator and at last the man was forced to remain in one place for a moment. He frowned at the picture. “That’s not me,” he immediately said. “Whoever sent that picture must have doctored it. I never went near the woman, and I definitely didn’t kiss her! Even the car is wrong! It’s a Toyota! I wouldn’t wanna be seen dead in a Toyota, much less kiss some broad.”

“But you did have an affair with her a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah, so what? I’d hardly call that an affair.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“A fling. Nothing serious.” He stabbed a stubby finger at the phone. “My wife showed me this same picture last night and I told her then what I’m telling you now. This got pap written all over it. This is what they do. Fishing for a story.”

“Agatha thought it was real. In fact it’s the reason she walked out on you.”

“Agatha walked out on me? I didn’t even know.”

“Well, she did, and that’s how she ended up in my room, because she was looking for a person named Adeola, hoping she could make arrangements to be flown back to America.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been so busy these last couple of days with the shoot, that I’ve hardly paid attention to my wife’s ramblings. It’s possible she mentioned something about an affair, but I told her she was barking up the wrong tree this time.” He spread his arms. “Do you really think I’d have an affair when I’m up to my eyeballs in a production this size? Who’s got the energy? Who’s got the time?!”

“According to Agatha that’s never stopped you before.”

For a moment I thought the producer was going to give Odelia a slap, for he stared at her with distinct menace in his eyes. I could see that Tucker hadn’t lied: the man had a serious temper. But then he pulled himself together and said, “Look, I know I haven’t always been a choir boy, and it’s true that I’ve fooled around some in the past, but Agatha and I always worked through our problems.”

“For your son’s sake.”

The elevator finally dinged and the door slid open.“Yeah, for Tucker’s sake. I’m a kid of divorced parents myself, and I saw what that can do to a person, so I promised myself a long time ago never to put my own kid through a divorce.” We stepped into the elevator and the producer stabbed the button with his thumb. “So no, I wasn’t having an affair, and if Agatha thinks I did, she’s mistaken.”

“So the fact that Astra was here at the hotel was just a coincidence?”

“I have no idea what she was doing here. I didn’t even know about it until we arrived and Amalia told me she met Astra in the lobby.”

“So you weren’t trying to offer her her old part back?”

“Absolutely not. She made it very clear when she walked out seven years ago that she didn’t want to have anything more to do with the show, no matter what.”

“But why? Why did she quit?”

“Bad blood,” said the producer curtly as he frowned darkly at the control panel as if had personally offended him.

“With you? Or the cast?”

“Cast,” he snapped.

“So Amalia, Penney and Natalie.”

“That’s right. For some reason they never got along, and over the years that only got worse, until finally there was a big blowout and she walked out.” He shrugged. “Too bad for the show, which got canceled. And too bad for me.”

“But you still managed to get the show restarted.”

“I’ve got Amalia to thank for that. She’s been trying to convince the network for years that this show could work just as well with just the three of them, and now we’re here to prove her right.” He intertwined his index finger and middle finger and directed his gaze heavenward. “Let’s hope to God it works!”

I could see now why even the murder of a former actress on the show or the arrest of his wife couldn’t slow this man down. He probably had a lot riding on the successful reintroduction of his most popular show, and it was now or never.

“Look, I’ll talk to the cops, all right? Get this sorted out. Adeola is already looking for the best lawyer money can buy, and we’re doing everything we can to get Agatha out of this jam. And as far as this nonsense about an affair is concerned, you can rest assured we’ll figure out who sent this picture to my wife and then we’ll sue them to kingdom come. They won’t get away with it this time.”

The elevator arrived in the lobby and the doors slid open. Like a horse at the sound of the bugle the producer shot out of the gate. But Odelia was hot on his trail. You don’t become Hampton Cove’s number-one reporter without tenacity.

“One more thing,” she said as she caught up with the guy.

“What now!” he growled unhappily as he doggedly marched on, his arms pumping like pistons and his short legs trying to put some distance between us.

“Where were you last night between three and five?”

“In my suite. Asleep. Happy now, nosy parker?”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone! I already told you, I wasn’t having any affairs. When you get to be my age, a shoot like this can kill you. I’m not likely to take any chances by sleeping around now do I? Now can I go? I’ve got about a hundred people waiting for me!”

And then he was off like a rocket, and this time there was no keeping up.

CHAPTER 18

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I noticed how Dooley was fervently glancing around the lobby, as if trying to locate a certain somebody, and I had a feeling I knew exactly who this somebody was.

“Have you spotted her yet?” I asked therefore.

“Who?”

“Marion, of course.”

His face lit up.“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“But… I thought you said you saw her?”

“No, I asked if you had seen her.”

He looked thoroughly confused now, and not a little bit disappointed.“I think she’s avoiding us, Max. I’m almost sure about it.”

“Now why would she be avoiding us, Dooley? That makes no sense.”

“Because she thinks we’re pulling her paw?”

But before we could get into this matter a little more deeply, Odelia returned, a big frown on her face.“Slippery so-and-so,” she murmured under her breath, darting anxious glances around, lest people saw she was talking to a pair of cats.

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now we see what other interviews Barney has set up for us,” she said. “We’re totally dependent on him, seeing as we have exactly zero jurisdiction here.”

So she started in the direction of the reception desk, hoping to find Barney, and next to me Dooley was making fervent noises, hoping to find Marion, and as we wove through the sea of hotel guests moving about the lobby like a minor flash mob, suddenly Barney appeared, like a genie from a bottle, a big triumphant smile on his face.

“Do I have a coup for you,Mademoiselle Odelia!” he cried as he rubbed his hands gleefully. “I have Mrs. Jacobs’s husband and Mrs. Jacobs’s son in my office this minute, waiting to talk to you! They are—how to say this—champing at the bit!”

I very much doubted anyone would be champing at the bit to talk to a private detective, but I admired Barney’s enthusiasm. He should have been a detective himself instead of that Giblet character.

“I thought Astra was divorced?” said Odelia, who clearly knew all about the dead woman.

“Oh, well maybe he is her ex-husband,” the manager amended. “But he is very keen to talk to the person in charge, which is you!”

He was pointing to Odelia with two index fingers, a double-barreled testament to his faith in her investigativesavoir-faire.

“Well, let’s see what he has to say,” said Odelia, and led the way. After her more or less disastrous interview with Oscar Kinetic, I could sense this was her chance at redemption. Her chance to make a breakthrough and throw this case wide open, so to speak.

Next to me, Dooley was still scouring the landscape for a sign of Barney’s cat, but no such luck. So it was a distinctly dispirited Dooley who joined us in Barney’s office.

Maximino Murr, Astra’s ex-husband, was probably in his early fifties, with dark hair graying at the temples, a kind face and a pair of thick-framed glasses obscuring his eyes. His son, Ippo Murr, was the spitting image of his dad, only taller, thinner and obviously younger. They both looked extremely serious.

“I had no idea about what happened to Astra until Mr. Sheffield told us,” said Maximino. “How did she die, exactly? All he said was that foul play was involved.”

“She was stabbed to death,” said Odelia, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from both father and son.

This time Odelia was seated behind the manager’s desk, while her two interviewees were in front of her, looking pretty shaken, perhaps even stirred.

“I didn’t even know Astra was my mother until a couple of weeks ago,” said Ippo, expression downcast. “When Mom died—well, I should say my stepmom now, I guess—one of her final wishes was for me to know she wasn’t my biological mom but my stepmom. Though to me she’ll always be my mother.”

“That must have come as a great shock to you,” said Odelia.

“Yes, you can say that. Especially since Astra was… well, famous.”

“I married her before she was famous,” said Maximino. “We met in college and got married when she found out she was pregnant with Ippo. The marriage only lasted a year or so. We divorced soon after Ippo was born.”

“And you didn’t stay in touch?”

“Astra moved to London to become a model, and got into acting quite by accident. But her first part was a big hit, and so she became famous almost overnight. I guess she didn’t want people to know she had already been married and had a son, so she pretty much erased us from her life. So no, we didn’t stay in touch. And then when I met Linda, Ippo was still quite young, and we decided not to mention Astra until he was older and so she raised him as her own.”

“She was my mom, period,” said Ippo. “She still is and always will be.”

“So you came to Paris to meet Astra?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, no,” said Maximino. “We live in Lyon now and come down to Paris a couple of times a year. To see a show, or do some shopping, spend some time together. It’s been a family tradition for years. And now that Linda’s gone…” He swallowed, clearly still grieving his wife’s death.

“Now that Mom’s gone we decided to keep the tradition alive, only it’s just the two of us now,” Ippo supplied, rubbing his dad on the back. “And since we always stay at the Fritz-Parlton, we didn’t want to break with tradition there either.”

“Which is how we ran into Astra yesterday,” said Maximino. “For the first time in, oh, thirty years or so?”

“I didn’t want to look her up,” said Ippo. “Or try to get in touch. I didn’t need to. I didn’t know the woman, even though technically she was my mom, I guess. But apart from that she was just a total stranger. But then when we met yesterday, well, she suddenly seemed anxious to sit down with us and get to know me.”

“She said she’d been thinking about those long-ago days a lot lately,” said Maximino, taking over the conversation again, “and wanted to reconnect.”

“So we had dinner. And we talked.”

“It was awkward,” said Astra’s ex-husband.

“Very awkward.”

“What was so awkward about it?” asked Odelia.

“Well, she said she wanted to be more in our lives. Get reacquainted,” said Maximino. “Said she’d missed out on having a real family and now that her career had stalled she realized maybe along the way she made a couple of mistakes.”

“Like dumping Dad and me,” said Ippo with a shrug. “Sounded to me like she was suffering from a midlife crisis, and had been talking with a therapist.”

“Do you think she came to Paris to meet with you?” asked Odelia.

Father and son shared a look, then shook their heads.“I don’t think so,” said Maximino. “I mean, how would she even know we’d be here?”

“Because you’ve been coming to the Fritz-Parlton for years?” Odelia suggested.

“But how would she know? We haven’t kept in touch.”

“She didn’t mention being here for us,” said Ippo. “I had the impression it was as big a surprise for her as it was for us.”

“I don’t think she set this up, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” said Mr. Murr.

“Is it true that the police have arrested a suspect?” asked Ippo. “Only after Barnabas told us I googled the murder and some newspapers are carrying the story this morning. Like, front-page news.”

“Of course. She was a major star,” said Maximino. “Though according to her, that star had lost some of its luster these last couple of years.”

“They actually arrested Oscar Kinetic’s wife Agatha last night,” said Odelia. “She was in the room with Astra, though she claims Astra was already dead when she got there. And I have to say I’m inclined to believe her.”

“Oscar Kinetic is the producer of your mother’s big show,” Maximino explained to his son.

“I know who Oscar Kinetic is, Dad,” said Ippo. “And please stop referring to Astra as my mother. She wasn’t, all right?”

“Okay, fine,” said Maximino, holding up his hands. He turned to Odelia. “So if Agatha Kinetic didn’t do it, then who did?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” said Odelia. “Though I have to say that the police are convinced they’ve got the killer in custody.”

“The police often get it wrong,” said Maximino.

“So who do you think did it?” asked Ippo.

“I’ve only just started looking into things,” said Odelia, “so I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer. Yet.”

“What about Joonas Harri?” asked Ippo.

“Who’s Joonas Harri?” asked Odelia.

“He’s Astra’s son,” explained Maximino.

“Her official son,” said Ippo with a touch of scorn.

“The son she had with Mike Harri, the Greek shipping merchant. Rich as Croesus, until he lost all of his money in some big scandal and killed himself.”

“And why do you think this…”

“Joonas.”

“Why do you think he killed Astra?”

“Well, he’s in town, for one thing,” said Ippo.

“Staying at the Fritz-Parlton,” said his dad.

“And when we spoke to Astra yesterday she made no secret of the fact that she wasn’t very happy with her son. Said he was after her money, and couldn’t wait for her to die so he could inherit.”

“Apparently he’s engaged to some Russian influencer,” said Maximino. “And they’ve been pestering Astra to invest in this new business venture they’re setting up. Only Astra didn’t want to invest. Thought the whole thing was just a scam from the girlfriend to get her hands on Astra’smoney and leg it back to Russia. But Joonas didn’t see it that way. He was so smitten with the woman he couldn’t think straight. Or at least that’s what Astra claimed. She sounded very bitter.”

“She sounded disappointed with her offspring,” said Ippo. “Which could be why she seemed happy to see you, Dad.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Don’t you remember what she said? Finally someone who doesn’t want something from me and is out to fleece me.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” said Maximino with a faint smile at the memory.

“She called you wholesome, remember?”

“You mean like bread?”

“No, not like bread, Dad,” said Ippo with a grin. “Like recognizing what a great guy you are, and expressing regret she ever left you to go play in a nest of vipers.”

“She seemed sad,” said Maximino.

“Yeah, she definitely was not a happy person.”

For a few moments, no one spoke, then Maximino said,“I hope you catch Astra’s killer, Mrs. Kingsley. We may have gone our separate ways many moons ago, but she didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Nobody deserves to die like this,” said Ippo.

“I can promise you I’ll do my very best,” said Odelia, getting up. “Oh, one last thing: where were you both last night between three and five?”

“Is that when she…” Ippo blinked. “Well, we were in our room, fast asleep, weren’t we, Dad?”

“Yeah, after we had dinner with Astra, we took in a show at the Zigali. I think we got in around one, then went straight to bed.”

“No nightcap in the bar?”

“No, we’re not much for nightcaps,” said Ippo. “We’re just a couple of country yokels, Mrs. Kingsley. Wholesome and much too nice.”

“That’s what she said, wasn’t it?” said Maximino. “When we said goodbye? That we were much too nice.”

“That’s because Dad had told her she could always drop by the house if she needed a place to stay.”

“Not that I wanted to rekindle our romance, mind you,” Maximino was quick to add. “Just… she seemed so lost, you know.”

“Yeah, she did.” Ippo smiled. “I hope she’s at peace now.”

CHAPTER 19

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

The interview over, father and son left the office and Barney Sheffield walked in. Then again, it was his office, so he had every right to come and go as he pleased.

“And? How did it go?” he asked anxiously. “Did you get any closer to the truth,Mademoiselle Kingsley?”

“Please call me Odelia. And yes, I think I’ve gotten a little closer to the truth.”

“So? Who did it? Who murdered that poor woman? It was the cat burglar, wasn’t it? I knew it!”

“I’m afraid I haven’t figured that out yet,” said Odelia, smiling at the manager’s excitement.

“You will see I am right,” said Barney, then frowned. “Oh, I have a couple you need to speak to. They are in the lobby and they are very, very anxious to leave, but I managed to make them stay where they are. I told them they have a moral obligation to find out what happened to Mrs. Jacobs.”

“Who are they?”

“Mrs. Jacobs’s son Joonas Harri, and his very charming fianc?e Olga Leder. A very nice couple, but very excitable and very busy.”

“I’ll talk to them right now,” said Odelia and glanced down in our direction.

“I just wish Marion was here,” Dooley said with a sigh as he glanced at the ceiling, as if hoping Marion would materialize there. “Then at least she could see how we do talk to our human, and that she talks back to us.”

And as we left the office, in Odelia and Barney’s wake, I suddenly thought I heard a sound. I glanced back, and up, and noticed movement behind a vent in the wall near the ceiling. But when I looked closer, nothing stirred. Just my imagination, no doubt. Still, I had the distinct sensation of being watched. So much so I could feel the shiversrunning down my spine—a clear sign.

In the lobby, Astra’s ‘official’ son and his fianc?e were impatiently waiting for us. They did seem in a terrible hurry to leave, which struck me as odd. Wouldn’t they want to help the person trying to solve his mom’s murder?

But then of course we all grieve in different ways. Maybe this Joonas Harri’s way of grieving was to look at his watch every five seconds and dart annoyed glances at Odelia.

“Look, we have a shoot to get to,” he said straight out of the gate. “So I hope this won’t take too long.”

“A shoot?” asked Odelia. “Are you a member of theHearts& Roses crew?”

“I wish,” the woman murmured with an eyeroll. She had the Instagram look down pat: extreme tan, perfectly sculpted brows, too much makeup, provocative cleavage and raven hair that looked about as real as Gran’s dentures. In other words: the woman had had a lot of work done, and now looked like every other influencer out there, as if they came off the same assembly line at Instagram Inc.

“We’re shooting Olga’s new video,” said Joonas, after staring at Odelia for a few seconds, as if to ascertain whether she was joking or not. “She’s a famous influencer with thousands of followers, and now that we’re in Paris we’re stocking up on fresh vids for her socials.”

“TikTok, Insta, Facebook, Snapchat,” the girl started rattling off, displaying extremely long and pointy shiny pink fingernails.

“I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of those,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, they look sharper than ours,” I said.

“So you’re in town for these… shoots?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, basically,” said Joonas.

“And for meeting with your mom,” Olga said, her accent thick and heavy.

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” said Joonas.

“Oh, but I think it is,” said Odelia. “You were meeting with your mom? Was that why she was in town?”

“I very much doubt that,” said the guy, still giving Odelia odd looks, as if figuring her questions weren’t very intelligent. “She said she was here on holiday.”

“Okay, so you had your meeting with your mom,” said Odelia, valiantly plowing on. “When was this?”

“Yesterday,” said Olga, tapping on the screen with her long nails. It made a funny clicking sound that was more soothing than annoying. Very ASMR indeed!

“What time?” asked Odelia.

“Is that important?” asked Joonas.

“I’m trying to establish a timeline of events leading up to your mother’s murder,” said Odelia. Joonas winced at the mention of the word ‘murder.’ “So yes, I’d say it’s very important.”

“Excuse me, but who are you again?” asked Olga.

“Yeah, and why all the questions?” asked Joonas.

“I thought you discussed this with Mr. Sheffield?” asked Odelia.

“All he said was that there was this woman who wanted to talk to us about my mom. He didn’t say why or how or what.”

I could tell that Odelia was quickly losing patience with these two, but still she went through the motions of introducing herself and explaining her bona fides.

“Okay, so we saw your mom at two o’clock yesterday afternoon,” said Olga, consulting her phone. “And the meeting lasted until three-fifteen.”

“And what did you talk about?” asked Odelia.

Silence from both parties, and stony looks.

“Just that Astra told people that you were asking for money to invest in a new business venture and she wasn’t happy about it. Not happy at all. In fact she complained that you were trying to fleece her. Her words, not mine.”

Gasps of shock and outrage—fake or not—were being projected, and finally Joonas said, “That is so not true! Who told you that?”

“A reliable source,” said Odelia, and this time it was her turn to put on a stony-faced expression.

“I asked her to invest, but I certainly wasn’t trying to fleece her!”

“And? Did she agree to invest?”

“She said she’d think about it,” said Joonas, studying his own fingernails. At least he’d stopped checking his watch every couple of seconds. “Look, we’ve got this amazing opportunity right now. This amazing project, and all it needs is just a little bit of funding and we’d be off theground and flying!”

“Flying high,” said Olga, deadpan, her eyes never leaving her phone’s screen.

“But I should have known she wouldn’t recognize the chance of a lifetime.”

“So she turned you down.”

“She said she’d think about it!” said Joonas between gritted teeth.

“It’s me,” said Olga. “She doesn’t like me. She thinks I’m no good for her son.”

“As if she’s ever been much of a mom to me,” Joonas scoffed. “I’ve lived with my dad all my life,” he explained. “Astra was always off shooting some movie or TV show someplace. She and my dad divorced when I was ten, so it’s almost as if I never had a mom. Not really. And now that Ioffered her the opportunity to finally do something for me for a change, she flatly—”

“Said she’d think about it,” Olga interjected, shooting her partner a warning glance.

“So you’re engaged to be married?” asked Odelia. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” said Joonas with a glance at his fianc?e’s engagement ring. “Look, how much longer is this going to take? I don’t know who killed my mom, and Olga doesn’t know who killed my mom, so this is all just a big waste of time.”

“A colossal waste of time,” Olga chimed in.

“Why didn’t Astra like you, Olga?” asked Odelia.

Olga seemed startled by this direct approach.“I don’t know,” she said, looking up from her phone for the first time. “I’m a likable person. I’d make a good wife.”

“I think we just caught her at a bad time, that’s all,” said Joonas.

“A bad time? And why was that, you think?” asked Odelia.

“Just my impression. She lay into Olga from the get-go. Never gave her a chance.”

“She was a snob,” said Olga determinedly. “Didn’t think I was good enough for her son. She thought I was some peasant girl. I’ll have you know that my family is very rich. My father is an important politician in Moscow. Very important man.”

“So maybe you should ask him to invest in your business,” I suggested, but of course she couldn’t understand what I said.

“Look,” said Joonas, “obviously she was going through some stuff, and was in a lousy mood. So whatever we said or did would have gotten a big fat no. And if only she had lived a little longer, I’m sure she would have seen the light. Only now that she’s dead, that’s the end of that. And so we all need to move on.”

“Joonas, we have to go,” Olga insisted. “The light will be gone.” She touched her cheek. “The light in Paris is golden. Very good for my skin.”

“Yeah, the light here is amazing this time of year. It really brings out the tone of Olga’s skin,” Joonas explained. He got up. “So if there’s nothing else…”

“Just one more thing,” said Odelia. “Where were you last night? Between three and five?”

“On the Pont Alexandre shooting a video,” said Joonas.

“She wants proof,” said Olga, and almost shoved her phone in Odelia’s face. “Here is proof,” she added.

Odelia watched the video with a frown.“What am I looking at?”

“Video of me on the bridge!” Olga cried. “Just look!”

“Oh, right,” said Odelia finally. “I didn’t see you there. So that’s you, in the… veily… thing?”

“That’s an actual Jean Paul Gaultier,” said Olga with another eyeroll.

“Product placement,” Joonas explained. “Got us an endorsement for ten grand.”

“But why film it in the middle of the night?” asked Odelia.

“Moonlight,” Joonas snapped, as if Odelia was a dimwitted child.

“Very gorgeous,” Olga explained. “Brings out a different skin tone.”

“And now we’re leaving,” said Joonas, and so he did. Olga gave a tiny wave, her face displaying a mocking grin, and then the influencer couple were finally off.

“Nice people,” Odelia said as she closed her notebook. “Very charming.”

“Do you think they could have killed Astra?” I asked.

Odelia shook her head.“The problem is that we don’t know for sure when Astra was killed. It must have been between three, when Barney said goodnight to her, and five, when Agatha discovered the body. Further narrowing it down: if we believe that Astra sent that message to Agatha, to meet her in her room, that message was sent at four-thirty. So that would put time of death between four-thirty and five. But if that message was sent by the real killer, trying to frame Agatha, she would have been murdered between three and four-thirty.”

“What time did Joonas and Olga shoot that video?” I asked.

“According to the time stamp they were at the bridge at three-thirty.”

“They could have made it back in time to murder Astra.”

“Or they could have tampered with the time stamp. And anyway, I only got a quick glimpse. A forensic expert should take a closer look. Really investigate.”

“You could also check with Barney when Joonas and Olga returned to the hotel,” I said. “I noticed cameras set up in the lobby. It won’t be difficult to check.”

Odelia nodded, and jotted this down on her list of things to do.“It would give me great pleasure to see those two get arrested and charged with murder.” She looked up. “I probably shouldn’t say that, but I really didn’t like them.”

“Very callous,” Dooley agreed, causing both me and Odelia to smile at my friend’s choice of words.

CHAPTER 20

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The moment the influencer couple was gone, Barney came cantering our way once more, anxious to find out what Odelia had discovered. When she told him that the couple had a solid alibi, or at least it appeared that way, he sank down on the sofa, clearly disappointed.

“I really thought we caught a live one this time. He looked absolutely right for the part of a cat burglar. Athletic, young, limber…”

“So you’re still holding on to your theory that the cat burglar is the killer?”

“Mais oui! Who else could it be! It has to be the cat burglar. That is elementary, my dear Odelia. Which means you can exclude anyone who is incapable of scaling a wall or hopping and skipping across a roof in the dead of night.”

“I don’t know,” said Odelia. “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, Barney. For me this doesn’t feel like a burglary gone wrong. There’s something more pernicious about this murder. Though of course I could be wrong,” she was quick to add.

“Oh, I’m not one to discount feminine intuition,mademoiselle,” the hotel manager assured her. “But I do implore you to look closely at the cat burglar scenario. If for no other reason than we need to catch the dastardly demon. And if it turns he is in fact our killer, we have effectively killed two birds with one stone.”

“I wonder if he’ll give out two rewards if the burglar and the killer turn out to be two different people,” I said. “Or just the one.”

“Do you think the cat burglar is also the killer, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I’m not sure. We don’t have enough information yet.”

“Yes, I guess that’s true,” said my friend as he gazed in the direction of the reception, where we first caught a glimpse of Marion. Hard to imagine that was only yesterday. So much had happened since then that it felt as if we’d been in Paris a week, instead of a mere twenty-four hours.

“I just wish Chase was here to conduct these interviews alongside Odelia,” said Dooley. “They’re so much stronger working as a team, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I think she’s doing pretty well on her own,” I said. “And let’s not forget that Odelia was a great detective long before Chased arrived on the scene.”

“That’s true,” he allowed.

Once upon a time Odelia had done all of her detecting all by herself, with only Dooley and myself providing backup. Harriet has never been much of a sleuth, and Brutus only joined when Chase arrived. Though it is true that Chase had quickly become a much-appreciated fixture in our lives, and when the two of them worked in tandem, they got results.