The Mysteries of Max: Books 25-27

Chapter 27

When Odelia saw her four cats, guarded by a dog that was fast asleep, the sight didn’t do much to quell her fears for their safety. She’d known that her uncle wouldn’t be able to supply her with the best dog the K9 unit had to offer, but this Rambo wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she’d asked for a guard dog.

Then again, she couldn’t very well ask Chase to keep an eye on them all the time. So it was imperative that whoever had attacked them at home was found and found fast.

So when she was back in her car, and had buckled her seatbelt, she called her uncle.

“Hey, Uncle Alec,” she said. “I was just calling in for an update on this cat killer?”

“Nothing new, honey,” said her uncle. “I have some of my people asking around, but whoever this guy was, he was careful not to be seen entering or leaving the house.”

“Okay… So maybe fingerprints? Anything?”

“Nothing so far. Why? Aren’t your cats happy with their new friend?”

“Not exactly,” she said, though she didn’t want to say more, for Rambo was in the back of the car, and he definitely wasn’t sleeping now.

“Don’t let his appearance deceive you,” said her uncle. “He’s one of the best we’ve got. Or at least he used to be when he was a full-fledged member of the team. He may be retired now, but I’m sure he’s still got that killer instinct you want to see in a guard dog.”

She glanced back, and saw that Rambo had placed his voluminous head on the top of the backseat, slobbering all over the upholstery. He was certainly killing her car.

“So did you get anything from this guy Jerry Pollard?”

“Maybe.” And she told her uncle about the builder who’d run away.

“Interesting,” he said. “Maybe I’ll run it by Charlene. She might remember something. She and her uncle had a good connection.”

“I’ll try to find out where he lives, and see if I can’t track him down,” she said.

“You do that, honey. Um…”

“What is it?”

“I’m running a check on Dudley. I took a strand of his hair and one from your dad.”

“You want to see if he’s really Dad’s son.”

“Yup. According to Marge your dad is really taken in with the kid. She’s not so sure, though.”

“He seems nice enough.”

“Yeah, I know, but I guess Marge feels it pays to be careful. After all, what do we know about him? Nothing.”

“No, sure. But I think the DNA test will come back a positive match. He even looks like Dad—minus the ears.”

“Yeah, well, I’m of the same opinion as my sister. You can never be too careful these days. Oh, and did you know about the plot of land your mom and dad own and that now may be worth a great deal of money?”

“What?”

“Ask your mom. She’ll tell you all about it.” And with a light chuckle, he disconnected.

“Plot of land?” she said, staring before her.

“What’s going on?” asked Max.

“It looks like my parents are going to be rich,” she said. “And my uncle is running a DNA test on Dudley, to see if he really is who he says he is.”

“Very prudent,” growled Rambo. “You can’t trust anyone these days. The world is full of cheaters and swindlers and thieves and con artists. Not to mention murderers, backstabbers and other scum of the earth.”

And on that cheerful note, he put down his head again.

Odelia started the engine and drove off, in search of this mysterious young man who’d joined then left Frank Butterwick’s company.

It didn’t take her long to find out where he lived: she simply asked around in the neighborhood Jerry Pollard had indicated. When she showed up on his doorstep, though, he didn’t answer the bell, and when she knocked on the door, no one came.

His next-door-neighbor, who was pruning her hedge, saw her peeking in through the window, and announced, “That won’t do you any good, honey. He moved out last month.”

“Where to?” she asked.

But the woman shrugged. “He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.” And continued her pruning.

“Great,” Odelia muttered. And as she walked back to her car, her phone dinged, and when she looked she saw she’d received a message from her mom. It contained a link, and when she clicked on the link, it took her to a Gofundme page, set up by… Vesta Muffin!

“Oh, dear,” she murmured. As she got back into her car, she showed the cats the page. “Looks like Gran is collecting money for a new car,” she announced.

“Nice,” said Brutus. “I like the look of that Escalade.”

“Yeah, I like it, too,” she said. “But the way Gran drives I pity the people who get in her way.”

In fact it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get Gran to take her driving test again. But that probably wasn’t in the cards.

“Why don’t you get a new car?” asked Harriet. “You could set up one of these Gofundme pages, too, and get rid of this piece of junk.”

She smiled. “It may be a piece of junk, Harriet, but I’m attached to my car.”

Her clunky but precious pickup was the first car she’d ever bought, with money she’d earned herself, and she didn’t want to get rid of it until she had to.

“As long as it keeps on rolling, I will keep on driving it,” she announced, and as she said the words, suddenly there was a loud crunching sound, and the engine… died!