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“Strange husband you’ve got,” said Scarlett with a laugh.

“Husband?” Now it was the woman’s turn to laugh. “Oh, Earl isn’t my husband, dear. He’s my sweetheart.” And then she called out, “Earl! Come out here a minute, sweetie.”

And there he came running up to them: a smallish dog with plenty of fluffy beige fur.

“Oh, what a cutie pie!” said Scarlett as she bent down to pet the little doggie’s head.

Earl must have noticed her d?colletage, though, for instantly he stopped panting and produced a single bark, then promptly shot up into the air and would have fastened his tiny white teeth into Scarlett’s assets if Dino Wimmer’s neighbor hadn’t intervened and snapped him up before he could.

“I think you better go now,” said the woman, as she had trouble restraining the tiny doggie, and keeping him from accosting a startled-looking Scarlett.

“Well, I never,” said Scarlett. “He’s a feisty little devil, isn’t he?”

“He sure is,” said the woman, and carried her precious sweetheart back into the house.

“What are you grinning at?” asked Scarlett.

“You!” Vesta cried. “Even dogs get all horny around you.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It’s a blessing and a curse to be blessed with curves like mine. So what do we do now?”

“Now we talk to that woman over there,” said Vesta, and hollered, “Hey, lady! Over here!” She hurried in the direction of a homey-looking woman who’d just come walking out of the house of the late Dino Wimmer. “If I’m not mistaken,” she told Scarlett, as the latter tried to keep up,which was tough going on those high heels of hers, “this is the Wimmers’ housekeeper. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being an amateur sleuth it’s that housekeepers are always the best sources of information. Can I ask you something!” she yelled as they approached the woman, who was frowning at them and looking none too friendly.

“Yes?” said the woman cautiously.

“Do you work for the Wimmers?”

“I’m their housekeeper. And who are you?”

“My name is Vesta Muffin, and this is Scarlett Canyon. Rose Wimmer asked us to look into the death of her father, Dino Wimmer? She thinks he was murdered.”

The housekeeper looked taken aback by this.“Well, isn’t that clever of her. Or dumb, depending on how you look at it, of course.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Scarlett.

“Because Mr. Wimmer killed himself,” said the woman. “And so it’s not smart to tell people that he didn’t.”

“So you believe he killed himself?” said Vesta.

“Of course. That’s what Mrs. Wimmer told me this morning when I arrived, and I don’t know why she would lie about a thing like that.”

“Were you here yesterday?” asked Vesta.

“Yes, I was. I come in every day. But I usually leave around this time.”

“So you weren’t here last night?”

“No, I wasn’t. If I had been here, I would have stopped Mr. Wimmer from doing a stupid thing like that.” She sighed deeply. “Such a nice man. With such a wonderful family. It’s a tragedy, Mrs. Muffin. A real tragedy.”

“They were a happy family, the Wimmers?”

“Oh, absolutely. Mrs. Wimmer and her husband were both devoted to Rose—one hundred percent.”

“I heard there was some trouble over Rose having a boyfriend her dad didn’t approve of?” said Scarlett, reiterating something Odelia had told Vesta over the phone.

The housekeeper pursed her lips.“Who told you that?”

“Rose herself did, and so did her mother,” Vesta intimated.

“Well, Rose has been seeing a young man who’s hardly suitable company for a girl as young as her,” said the housekeeper, darting a quick glance back at the house she’d just left. “He’s fully five years her senior, you know. A man, and she’s only a girl. And he’s an artist. An artist! And he’s got these…” She gestured with her arms. “Tattoos. And these…” She pointed to her face. “Piercings. Terrible.”

“Did they have arguments?” asked Vesta. “Dino and this young man, I mean?”

“Oh, no. Dino never lost his temper in front of the young man.”

“So he has been to the house?”

The woman nodded.“Rose brought him home last week. Introduced him to her parents and he stayed for dinner. Rose had even asked me to cook them her favorite dish: chicken pot pie. So I did. I made them a wonderful chicken pot pie and they all enjoyed it very much. Rose even thanked me later. And she added that not a cross word was said. But later on, when the young man had left, there was a lot of arguing. A lot of shouting. I was in the kitchen cleaning up and I could hear them yelling at each other.”

“Father and daughter?”

“Yes, father and daughter. Mrs. Wimmer preferred to stay out of it—she usually did. She isn’t the girl’s real mother, you know. So she has to tread carefully. But Mr. Wimmer and Rose really screamed the house down. Well, especially Rose. Mr. Wimmer wasn’t the kind of man who liked to raise his voice. He was always very distinguished.”

“Did he… get violent?” asked Vesta.

“Oh, no!” said the woman, raising her eyebrows in consternation. “Mr. Wimmer would never have resorted to violence. He wouldn’t have raised his hand against his daughter. Never, never, never. But that day, he did yell. Very loud. It wasn’t a good day. Such a pity. They usually got along so well, those two. I always said they were birds of a feather. Whenever Daphne went on one of her Avon weekends they liked to order takeout and watch movies together—all weekend long. By the time I arrived on Monday morning the house was usually a mess—a real pigsty! But I never complained. Oh, no.”

“So this big blowout was last week?” asked Scarlett, who was once again tapping all this into her phone.

“Wednesday,” said the woman. She glanced back at the house where Vesta now saw that the curtains were moving. “And now I must go,” said the housekeeper abruptly, as she must have noticed the same thing. “Goodbye and good luck with your investigation.”

And then she was off, hurrying along the sidewalk to her car—a tiny blue Peugeot—got in and moments later was zooming off.

Scarlett watched her leave.“Not the car the neighbor saw, presumably?”

“No, definitely not.”

Both women shared a glance.“Interesting thing,” said Scarlett. “This big fight.”

“Very interesting,” Vesta agreed.

And then they both glanced over to the house again. The curtains shifted slightly, but then the person who’d been watching them moved away and they were still again.

“I think maybe—just maybe—we should have a word with Mrs. Wimmer,” said Vesta.

“Absolutely,” said Scarlett, and licked her lips, clearly relishing the idea of tackling the widow of the late Dino Wimmer.

Chapter 14

We’d been walking along a little aimlessly, wondering who we could talk to next, when two familiar figures suddenly materialized in front of us. Reading from left to right they were Harriet and Brutus.

The first words out of Harriet’s mouth told me she wasn’t a happy camper. “What’s all this about an investigation?” she demanded, her eyes blazing and her demeanor more than a little hostile.

“We’re looking into the sausage owner who killed the banker,” Dooley announced happily. “So far all we’ve managed to discover is that it’s got something to do with an old lady who used to live across the street from the General Store who was sweet on Wilbur Vickery.”

Harriet stared at Dooley for a moment, then dismissed him out of paw.“I talked to Buster just now and he told me—”

“We talked to Buster,” Brutus gently corrected her.

“Whatever,” she said. “He told us that this dead banker Odelia and Chase discovered last night was actually murdered? And now Odelia is trying to figure out who did it? Is this true? And if it is, why wasn’t I informed?”

“Why weren’twe informed,” Brutus interjected.

“Whatever! I want some answers and I want them now!”

“Well, Odelia is investigating the murder of Dino Wimmer,” I said, “and she has asked us to tag along and find out what we can. And the reason she hasn’t asked you is probably because she didn’t happen to bump into you the way she bumped into us.”

“You mean she didn’t purposely neglect to inform me?” asked Harriet, only slightly appeased by my explanation.

“No, she most certainly didn’t set out to exclude you from her investigation,” I said. “In fact I’m sure she’ll be very happy if you could join us in finding out what happened. From what I understand she can use all the help she can get, as the police are treating the death of Dino Wimmer as a suicide, and are not going to investigate.”

“I don’t get it,” said Harriet with a frown. “The police aren’t investigating a murder?”

“They are satisfied that Dino killed himself,” I said. “The only reason Odelia is investigating this is because Dino’s daughter Rose asked her to. If not for Rose nobody would be looking into the death of her dad.”

“What a mess,” said Harriet, nicely summing things up. “So what have you discovered so far, Max?”

“Nothing much,” I had to admit. “Apart from some strange theory suggested by Kingman, and Tex indicating that the man was happy and unlikely to have taken his own life. Oh, and Odelia recruited Gran and Scarlett to assist her in the investigation.”

“Gran and Scarlett!” said Harriet, her indignation over being excluded once again rearing its ugly head. “Why this is simply too much. When I see Odelia I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”

“Of my mind, too,” Brutus added.

“Where is she?”

“Gran?”

“Odelia!”

“She went off in that direction,” I said, gesturing down the street, “and Gran was going to canvass the neighborhood where Dino Wimmer lived.”

“Come on, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” asked her boyfriend.

“Wherever!” Harriet said, and stalked off in high dudgeon.

Brutus heaved the sigh of a much-put-upon boyfriend, then turned on his heel and went off in pursuit of the wannabe cat sleuth Persian.

“You forgot to tell them about Dick’s sausage,” said Dooley as we stared after the duo.

“I don’t think that’s relevant right now, Dooley,” I said.

“Oh, I think it’s very relevant,” said my friend. “In fact I think the clue to this whole mystery lies with that sausage.”

“Of course it does,” I said, and then we, too, set off to investigate this matter further.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Could we have a word, please, Mrs. Wimmer?” said Scarlett.

The woman eyed them a little annoyedly.“I’m sorry, but I’m not a religious person. You’ll have to excuse me.” And she made to close the door on them.

Luckily Vesta had the good sense to place her foot in the door and block it from closing.

Mrs. Wimmer stared from that foot to Vesta’s face and looked on the verge of giving Vesta a piece of her mind, and not in a good way, when Vesta said, “I’m Odelia Poole’s grandmother. She’s asked us to look into the death of your husband, Dino Wimmer?”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Wimmer, and frowned. “I don’t understand. Why is Miss Poole looking into the death of my husband?”

“Your daughter asked her to,” said Vesta simply.

A look of concern came over the woman’s face. “Rose asked her to investigate Dino’s death? But why?”

“She thinks your husband was murdered, Mrs. Wimmer. In fact she’s so sure of herself that she’s willing to pay top dollar for Odelia’s services.”

“But… I thought Miss Poole was a reporter?”

“She is, but she dabbles in crime solving from time to time.”

“With great success, too,” added Scarlett.

“She does, does she? Well, I guess you better come in. We can’t very well discuss this standing out here in the middle of the street.” She glanced over to where her neighbor was intently looking in their direction, holding an equally fascinated Earl in her arms.

Once inside, Mrs. Wimmer took them straight through to the living room, which was cozily appointed in hues of beige and lime green, with plenty of light streaming in through a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto a sizable backyard. A swing stood erect but a little weathered, testament to a time when Rose had been much younger.

“Rose isn’t home,” Mrs. Wimmer said. “She’s at school. So if you came to talk to her, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

“No, we actually wanted to talk to you,” said Vesta.

“This is all very unusual,” said Mrs. Wimmer with a nervous little laugh. “My daughter hiring private detectives. I really don’t know where she gets this idea. I can assure you the police have looked into the matter and they’re satisfied that his death was a suicide. I even received a telephone call from the chief of police confirming this.”

“My son is a moron,” said Vesta. “So I’d advise you not to pay attention to what he says.”

“Your son?”

“The chief of police is her son,” Scarlett explained.

Mrs. Wimmer looked surprised.“Your son…”

“Is a moron,” Vesta reiterated. “But don’t you worry, Mrs. Wimmer. We’re going to get to the bottom of this thing. Odelia is very good at what she does, and so are we. In fact you’re in the presence of the entire neighborhood watch committee for Hampton Cove. I’m the chairwoman and founder of the watch and Scarlett here is vice-president and director of public relations. Isn’t that right, hon?”

“Absolutely, “said Scarlett, who seemed notably pleased with her new title.

“So what can you tell me about your husband, Mrs. Wimmer? Enemies, strangers lurking around outside the last couple of weeks, things that struck you as odd…”

“I discussed all this with your granddaughter last night,” said Mrs. Wimmer, shuffling a little nervously in her seat. “I already told her everything I know.”

Vesta shared a quick glance with her second-in-command.‘Evasive techniques’ that look said. ‘Suspicious,’ Scarlett’s narrowing of the eyes said. ‘I think we’ve got our killer,’ Vesta’s return look indicated.

“Where were you last night, Mrs. Wimmer?” asked Vesta, deciding to go for the jugular.

“I was at an Avon party. I’m what you might call an Avon lady. I had several events planned in Happy Bays over the weekend, and so decided to stay with a friend and colleague. Grace Ojala. I was with her all weekend. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you, Mrs. Wimmer. Of course I do. But you understand that us professionals need to make sure that what you tell us is entirely on the up and up. So if you could give us the name of your friend again, and her phone and address.”

Mrs. Wimmer dutifully provided Scarlett with same, and added,“I really don’t understand why Rose would do this. I mean, I understand she has a hard time accepting what happened with Dino, but murder? That’s simply preposterous. Don’t you think that if my husband had been murdered Rose would have noticed? She was home last night, even though she’d told me she’d spend the night with her boyfriend.”

“She was allowed to spend the night with her boyfriend? I thought you and your husband didn’t approve of her relationship with this… Cole Donalds—that’s his name, yes?”

Mrs. Wimmer nodded. She looked down at the carpet, wringing her hands nervously.“It’s true that we didn’t wholeheartedly approve of Cole. At least not at first. You see, Cole is twenty-three. Too old for Rose, Dino and I felt.”

“And an artist,” Scarlett added.

“No, that had nothing whatsoever to do with it,” said Mrs. Wimmer. “I didn’t mind about that and neither did Dino. But Rose is eighteen and the age difference is… the thing is, we both, Dino and I, had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she was dating at all, and then she showed up with Cole… well, Dino was very upset.”

“They fought? Rose and her dad?”

“Yes, they did. Dino wasn’t happy, and when he told Rose how he felt about her seeing Cole, she exploded. Said she was old enough to decide for herself who she was going to date.” She shrugged and gave a weary little smile. “Well, you know how it is when you have teenagers in the house. Things can get tense. But Dino loved his daughter to bits, and she loved her dad, too. Things just got a little heated, that’s all. I’m sure they’d have cooled off just as quickly, if only Dino hadn’t… done what he did.” She swallowed. “If you want to know what I think, I think Rose feelsguilty about the fight. She never really got to make up with her dad.”

“The fight was last week?”

Mrs. Wimmer nodded.“Rose refused to talk to Dino. Said she had nothing more to say to him. And now she never will. And she simply can’t accept that Dino took his own life.”

“Do you think he killed himself because of that fight with your daughter?” asked Scarlett, going way off base, Vesta thought, and not towing the party line which said they were there to investigate a murder, not a suicide. Still she was curious to hear Mrs. Wimmer’s answer.

“I don’t think so,” said the woman. “It may have been a contributing factor, but I’m sure Dino knew that sooner or later things would get patched up again between him and Rose. They were simply much too close to let something like this come between them. No, I think Dino was completely stressed out over something that happened at work.” She directed a pointed look at Vesta. “If you really want to investigate his death, that’s what you should look into. I’m sure that whatever drove him to do what he did is related to the First Financial Crest.”

Once they were out on the sidewalk again, Vesta turned to her friend.“What do you think? Maybe she’s right and Rose is wrong and the guy really did kill himself?”

“It sounds plausible to me,” said Scarlett. “A lot more plausible than that someone managed to kill him while his daughter was in the house and made it look like suicide.”

Just then, a loud meowing sound had them both look up in alarm.

“What do you mean by going off on an investigation without telling me!” a sharp voice demanded.

It was Harriet, and she did not look happy.

Chapter 15

We met up with Odelia again when she came walking out of the First Financial Crest, as I thought she would, and when I saw the puzzled look on her face, I knew she’d hit upon some important clue.

“What happened?” I asked therefore.

“Looks like I just stumbled on a motive for Dino’s murder,” she said. “But let’s not talk now. People might think I’m nuts.”

“We talked to Kingman,” Dooley announced, “and he said the lady who used to have a shop across the street was in love with Wilbur, and Dino convinced her son to sell and now she’s in a nursing home and the hotel was built where the shop used to be, and Wilbur probably killed Dino because hewanted to take revenge for losing the love of his life.”

Odelia frowned as she processed this.

“I really don’t think this is a valid theory,” I told her. “For one thing I’m sure that Wilbur never had a love of his life. He’s had hundreds, and they flicker out the moment they’re out of sight. And second, this is all ancient history. If Wilbur wanted to take revenge on Dino Wimmer he would have done so a long time ago.” Odelia nodded, to indicate she’d heard what I said, and when I asked, “Where are we going?” she held her hand in front of her mouth and said quietly, “Talk to the boyfriend.”

“Oh, we’re going to visit Chase?” said Dooley. “Cool.”

“Not my boyfriend. Rose’s boyfriend. He works at the Seabreeze Music Center.”

Which seemed like the logical place for a musician to work, of course, as the Seabreeze Music Center is our local art center and concert venue. The future Mr. Rose Wimmer was probably rehearsing for a concert he was going to stage there.

When we walked in, though, and Odelia asked at the reception desk where she could find Cole Donalds, she pointed to the concession stand right across from her desk. And when we approached the stand, a guy with a funny little paper hat greeted us and asked if we preferred our popcorn salty or sweet.

“Cole Donalds?” asked Odelia.

“Yep, that’s me,” said the guy.

Odelia held out a hand and said,“My name is Odelia Poole, and your girlfriend asked me to look into the death of her dad.”

“Oh,” he said, and blinked.

He was one of those guys who like to wear their hair a little too long, and he also seemed to have a penchant for hair gel. He had thick dark brows that met in the middle, and I could see he normally wore a piercing in his nose and one through his lip but he’d taken them out—presumably because it might scare off the children.

“Why is his hair so shiny, Max?” asked Dooley. “Do you think he’s forgotten to wash it this morning?”

“It’s a certain look,” I said. “Guys sometimes like their hair to look like that. They think it makes them more attractive to girls.”

“I think it makes him more attractive to shampoo salespeople.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” asked Odelia.

“Um, actually I’m working right now,” said the kid, who came across much younger than his age. He glanced around. “We could sit over there,” he suggested, indicating a small lounge area where people could sit and wait for the concert or show to start.

“So this is a concert hall,” said Dooley, as he glanced up at the many posters that adorned the walls of the cavernous entrance area.

“And a cinema,” I said.

“So maybe Odelia could take us to see a movie here once? I think it would be nice to look at a movie on the big screen.”

“If you want we can sneak in and take a peek now,” I suggested.

“Are you sure? Don’t you think we should stick around and help Odelia with her interview?”

“I’m sure Odelia will be fine without us,” I said, and so we were off, sneaking past the ticket guy and into the venue proper, then ducking through the first doors we could find and suddenly we were in a very large darkened room, where rows of chairs had been placed, and a movie was playing on the big screen in front.

“Oh, wow,” said Dooley as he craned his neck to take it all in. “This is something else, Max.”

“Yeah, very different from watching a movie at home,” I agreed.

“Oh, wow,” he repeated as we took a seat underneath two nearby seats and watched the screen intently. It was one of those action movies, where people shoot a lot at other people, and chase each other around across the roofs of houses and jump from one roof to the next and from time to time almost but not quite fall into the abyss.

“Amazing,” Dooley murmured as we hunkered down and tried to figure out who the bad guy was and who the good guy was.

Not everyone was as engrossed in the movie as we were, though, for suddenly I became aware that the people occupying the chairs we had selected to use as an impromptu hiding place were discussing the death of Dino Wimmer.

“I think the daughter did it,” one person was saying.

“The daughter? But why?”

“Because she was the only one who was in the house, duh.”

“I think it was an intruder,” said the other person. “Probably some disgruntled client at the bank. Or maybe one of those botched home invasions. Where they take the banker hostage and he has to accompany them to the bank early in the morning to open the vault. Only he didn’t want to play ball so they killed him.”

“A home invasion while the daughter was asleep upstairs? How do you figure that?”

“She probably was taken hostage along with the dad and saw him get killed and blocked the whole thing out of her memory. It happens!”

“Oh, for crying out loud. You’ve been watching too many movies, Jim.”

“Well, Sheryl, so have you. The daughter killing her own father and making it look like a suicide. That’s so unrealistic.”

But then the guy on the screen miscalculated his next jump and was sent plummeting off the roof. So he hadn’t been the good guy after all. Go figure.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Odelia saw that Cole was exceedingly ill at ease. His leg was jumping, and he was chewing his fingernails.

“So Rose hired you, huh?”

“She didn’t exactly hire me. I’m not a detective, Cole. But she did ask me to look into her father’s death.”

“She thinks he was murdered,” said the kid. He displayed a nervous smile. “Murdered, if you please.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think she’s grieving, and this is all part of the process. Denial,” he added for good measure. “So no, I don’t think he was murdered. I think the guy was in trouble. Big trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Financial trouble, of course. What else. He probably bet on the wrong horse and now his entire business was going down the tubes and when he realized that any day now the cops would come knocking on his door and ask what happened to the money his clients entrusted him with, he decided to bail out.”

“You think his bank was in trouble?”

“Sure. Aren’t banks always going belly up? It’s nothing but a glorified poker game, Miss Poole. They shuffle money around like nobody’s business, and at the end of the day they’re in the hole for billions of dollars and it’s game over.”

“Did you tell Rose about your theory?”

“Sure.” He’d finished chewing all the fingers of his left hand and now started on his right hand. “She got mad. Like, real mad. Said I was an idiot. That her dad was much too clever to get in trouble. That his bank was in great shape, and that he was murdered. Murdered!” He grinned. “She almost convinced me. But from what she told me, the guy swallowed an entire box of pills. That ain’t murder, Miss Poole. That’s finding yourself at the end of your rope and bailing out.”

Odelia nodded.“I understand that Rose’s dad wasn’t entirely happy with your relationship with his daughter?”

“The guy blew his top when she first introduced us. He was nice enough during dinner, though there was this weird silence, you know. This heavy kind of atmosphere—that you can almost cut with a knife? And the moment I left the guy started screaming and shouting. Crazy stuff. Rose called me later that night, crying on the phone. She’d locked herself in her room and said she wanted me to come and get her. Said she was running away from home. That she never wanted to see her dad again—ever.”

“And what did you do?”

“I told her she was nuts. Imagine us running away together. And then what? I’d probably end up in jail for abduction, and she’d be hauled back to her folks, who’d be even madder than before. No way I was gonna pull a crazy stunt like that. But we talked all night, and finally she agreed that if we were going to be together, we needed to do this the proper way. Wait until she graduated, and then find a place and move in together. You know, like regular people. Smart people.”

“That was a very grown-up thing to do,” said Odelia with a smile.

“Her dad got me all wrong, Miss Poole. And I would have told him if I’d been given a chance. As it was, Rose felt I probably shouldn’t drop by the house again until things had cooled off, and so I didn’t. And now he’s gone.” He shrugged. “Bailed out. Like a coward. Taken the easy way out.”

Suddenly an alarm started blaring, and Cole looked up in alarm.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got fire in the hole.”

Chapter 16

“What were you thinking, Dooley?” asked Odelia as we sat in the car on our way home.

“I was thinking that the little girl wanted to push that button and needed help,” said Dooley.

We’d hurriedly left the Seabreeze Music Center after ascertaining that no fire had actually been started, and that Dooley had simply tripped the fire alarm for some reason.

“She was reaching for the little red button,” Dooley went on to explain, looking a little sheepish as he did, “and she looked so sad that she couldn’t reach it, so I decided to give her a paw and do my good deed for the day and make her happy.”

“I don’t believe this,” said Odelia, shaking her head as she steered the car through evening traffic. “Please don’t ever pull a stunt like that again, Dooley.”

“How was I to know that button was connected to the fire alarm?” said my friend.

“Maybe because of the words ‘Fire Alarm’ printed right next to the button?” Odelia suggested, still looking a little irate. And I didn’t wonder. The entire venue had quickly emptied out, and the owner hadn’t been too happy when he’d discovered from studying the CCTV images that Dooleyhad been the one to trip the alarm. He’d of course recognized Dooley as being Odelia’s—by now all of Hampton Cove probably knew that Dooley and myself belonged to the town’s number-one reporter—and had told Odelia in no uncertain terms what he thought of this stunt.

“I just wanted to make that little girl happy,” Dooley said. “So I jumped. I hit it on the first try, too.”

“Well, you made one little girl happy and about a thousand people who couldn’t finish watching their movie very unhappy,” said Odelia, “so what do you think about your little stunt now, Dooley? Was it worth it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said quietly.

“So please don’t ever do it again, all right?”

“I won’t do it again, Odelia.”

“What’s the deal with these good deeds anyway?”

“Dooley saw a documentary about the Boy Scouts of America,” I explained.

“The Cub Scouts of America,” Dooley interjected.

“TheBoy Scouts of America,” I insisted, “and it inspired him to try and do good deeds so he can become a boy scout himself. Gran encouraged him. Made him take a pledge.”

“If everybody would do a good deed a day the world would be a better place,” Dooley said.

In spite of herself Odelia had to smile at this, though she quickly suppressed the smile lest she appear too lenient in the face of this stunt having backfired to a great degree.“Though I admire the sentiment, you need to think before you act, Dooley,” she said.

For a few moments, silence reigned, then Dooley said,“Do you think I should stop doing good deeds?”

“No, I don’t think you should stop doing good deeds. I think you should use your head next time you see an opportunity to do a good deed. Or better yet, ask Max.”

“Ask Max?”

“Ask Max, and if he says it’s all right you can go ahead and do whatever good deed you like. Do we have an understanding, Dooley?”

“Yes, Odelia,” he said meekly.

“What did Rose’s boyfriend tell you?” I asked, deciding that perhaps changing the subject was the best way to leave this embarrassing episode behind us.

“He thinks that Dino Wimmer killed himself and that Rose is kidding herself when she thinks he didn’t. He thinks the First Financial Crest was in financial trouble and when Dino realized he couldn’t salvage the bank he took the easy way out.”

“A lot of people seem to think that Dino Wimmer killed himself,” I pointed out. “Dino’s wife, Dino’s former business partner, Uncle Alec…”

“Yeah, so far only Rose seems to believe a different story,” said Odelia with a frown. “And my dad. But unfortunately I haven’t discovered any evidence to the contrary.”

“There does seem to be an issue with the loan Dino refused to give this real estate mogul,” I pointed out, referring to Odelia’s talk with Romney Knight she’d just now told us all about. “So at least we’ve got one man with a motive to get rid of Mr. Wimmer.”

“Two,” said Odelia. “Romney Knight seemed very eager to do business with Leo Kemp. In fact he could hardly wait to approve the guy’s loan application.”

“Have you found out who sent that picture of a sausage to Rose?” asked Dooley, a little timidly because of the dressing-down he’d just received.

“No, I haven’t,” said Odelia with a smile. “Uncle Alec sent it to some cybercrime people to look at. Though I think that’s probably the least of Rose’s worries right now.”

We’d arrived home and got out of the car. Walking into the house, I made a beeline for my food bowl. Being out and about all morning had really made me famished, and it was only after I’d sufficiently restored my strength that I was ready to devote my attention to other, more cerebral things oncemore. Like listening in on the conversation Odelia was having with Gran, who’d dutifully filed into the house to deliver her report.

“… and so it looks like this car is the only lead we have at the moment,” Gran was saying.

“But no details on the car,” Odelia said, nodding.

“Just that it was a fancy car, whatever that means,” said Gran.

Chase had also arrived home, and was following the impromptu meeting with rapt attention.“If you want I can look into that for you,” he said. “There are some traffic cameras set up at the intersection near the Wimmer home. If you can tell me when that car is supposed to have left, it’s not hard to figure out when it should have arrived at that traffic light and should have beenpicked up by those cameras.”

Odelia’s face lit up with the light of hope. “You can do that?”

“Oh, sure. No sweat.”

“Thanks, Chase.”

“It’s a long shot,” said Gran, “but as the saying goes, it’s all we’ve got right now.”

Harriet and Brutus walked in through the pet flap, and it didn’t escape my attention that Harriet still looked a little annoyed.

“Can you believe that they tried to cut us out of this investigation?” she lamented. “By the time we got there the show was over.”

“Nothing you could do?” I asked.

“Oh, there was plenty we could do, and did. Brutus and I talked to any pet in the vicinity we could find, but of course they all had exactly nothing to contribute.”

“We did talk to one dog,” said Brutus, “who claimed to have heard the Wimmers fight so loud he could hear it all the way to the backyard of his own home. Nice doggie, too. His name is Earl. Very perceptive.”

“Yeah, Earl was most helpful,” Harriet admitted, “though he was of the opinion that Dino Wimmer must have done this to himself. Earl thought he was looking a little ragged lately when he arrived home from work. Careworn, you know. Looking very much like death warmed over. Especially after that big fight he and Rose had last week.”

“That’s right,” Gran chimed in, having listened in on our conversation. “Father and daughter engaged in some kind of screaming match, after Rose invited her boyfriend round to meet her parents. Suffice it to say things did not go well.”

“The boyfriend told me the same thing,” said Odelia.

“So we’re still leaning toward the suicide theory?” asked Chase.

“A man like Dino Wimmer would never take his own life,” Scarlett now posited. “He wouldn’t!” she added when Gran and Odelia and Chase all looked at her. “The man had it all: a lovely wife, a great kid, a successful business, a nice house in a great neighborhood… Okay, so he quarreled with his teenage daughter over her choice of boyfriend. What father doesn’t? And so maybe he was having some issues with an unhappy investor he refused to bail out. So far I see absolutely no reason for the man to swallow a bottle of sleeping pills and go gentle into that good night, if you ask me.”

“So we can’t prove he killed himself, for lack of a trigger incident,” said Odelia, summing things up succinctly, “and we can’t prove that someone killed him either. So where does that leave us?”

“With plenty more sleuthing to do,” said Gran. “Which is exactly what we’ll do—tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock over the sink. “Now it’s time for more important things.”

“Dinner?” Chase hazarded a guess.

“Jeopardy,” she snapped.

Chapter 17

That night cat choir was a languid affair. Usually when we’re in the throes of a murder investigation I like to take the opportunity to ask around and see if none of my cat choir colleagues might be able to make a significant contribution to the case. Now, though, since we didn’t have much of a case yet, it was a little harder.

“I really like this concept of doing good deeds, Dooley,” said Shanille, cat choir’s conductor and Father Reilly’s cat. “You have to tell me more about it.”

“Well, it’s very simple,” said Dooley. “You have to be really attentive all the time, and then when you see an opportunity, you strike.”

“I heard you set the Seabreeze Center on fire today?” said Brutus with a slight smirk. “Is that what you call striking? Cause if it is, you did good.”

“I didn’t set the Seabreeze Center on fire,” said Dooley, a little indignantly. “I just tripped the fire alarm.”

“You mean there was a fire at the Seabreeze Center?” asked Shanille. “And you tripped the fire alarm? Well done, Dooley. That’s the kind of decisive action we need more cats to adopt. If more cats were like you—”

“There was no fire,” said Dooley, now looking a little uncomfortable.

Shanille frowned.“No fire? But then why did you trip the alarm?”

“I saw a girl looking at the alarm and she couldn’t reach it and so I decided to give her a paw. She was very happy. She clapped her hands and laughed. It was wonderful.”

“And then all hell broke loose,” I murmured.

“Well, your heart was in the right place,” said Shanille. “That’s the main thing.”

“The main thing is that now we’re all cats non gratae at the Seabreeze Center,” I said. “Which means we’ll never be able to go and see a movie or concert there ever again.”

“Who wants to go and see a movie at the Seabreeze Center?” said Harriet. “Or a concert? I certainly don’t. It’s too dark and there are way too many people willing to trample all over your tail or step on your paws and those places always smell funny.”

“Besides, I don’t think pets are allowed in those kinds of places anyway,” said Brutus, “and I have made it a cardinal rule never to set paw inside a place where pets are not allowed.”

“You can’t set paw in a place where pets are not allowed,” I pointed out to him. “That’s the whole point.”

“I know!” he said. “That’s why I refuse to set paw in those places.”

“But you can’t set paw in there—it’s not allowed.”

“Which isexactly why I don’t want to go there, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus, moving closer to me and staring me down.

Brutus is a dear friend and a much-beloved housemate, but if he has one flaw in his character it is that he has a tendency to let his inner bully break through the thin veneer of civility he has acquired over the years. So I wisely decided not to press the issue.

“You’re absolutely right, Brutus,” I said therefore. “I wouldn’t set paw in a place like that either.”

“Good,” he said, and gave me a lingering look of suspicion, then turned to pursue other, more important matters. Such as there were: to follow his girlfriend to the edge of the playground that serves as a rehearsal spot for cat choir, and listen to her practice tonight’s solo performance. Harriet likes to practice those arias that have made her so popular amongst cat choir aficionados and Brutus is her chosen pre-performance critic.

“So how is your investigation going?” asked Shanille.

I stared at her in wonder.“How did you know we’re investigating something?”

“Aren’t you always?” she said. “What is it this time? No, don’t tell me. A murder? A robbery? A home invasion? A kidnapping?”

“An apparent suicide,” I said.

“A banker killed himself and now his daughter thinks he was murdered,” Dooley supplied. “And she’s asked Odelia to investigate. Oh, and there’s a sausage involved.”

“Oh, dear,” said Shanille. “I heard about that. Dino Wimmer, right? Isn’t he the guy who was instrumental in building the Hampton Cove Star hotel?”

“He is,” I confirmed.

“Kingman seems to think Wilbur Vickery might be involved,” Shanille said, as she cast a quick glance at the voluminous cat, who held court for at least half a dozen females nearby. “Though I very much doubt whether Wilbur is capable of murder.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a lead we’re actively pursuing at this time,” I agreed.

“Do you want to know what I think?” asked Dooley.

Shanille gave him an amused smile.“Of course, Dooley. I always want to know what you think.”

Dooley seemed surprised by this, but proceeded to regale the choir director with his latest brain wave nevertheless.“I think he was murdered by the same person who sent that picture of a sausage to his daughter.”

“Picture of a sausage? What are you talking about?”

“Someone called Dick sent a picture of his sausage to Rose Wimmer, and I have a hunch it’s all part of one big conspiracy,” said Dooley. “I’m sure if Odelia would care to look at Mr. Wimmer’s phone she would find similar pictures of similar sausages. I think those sausages were sent as a warning, and now Rose’s life is in danger—in danger from the same man named Dick. If only we could figure out who that sausage belongs to, I’m sure we’ll be able to crack this case.”

“Dooley, that… sausage and the murder or suicide of Dino Wimmer are not in fact related,” I said, deciding to settle this matter once and for all. “In fact the person who sent that picture to Rose is probably one of her school friends. Just one of those adolescent jokes, you know. A prank, if you will.”

He frowned at this.“I don’t think so, Max. I mean, I respect your judgment, you know I do, but for once I have to disagree with you. That sausage is a major clue in this investigation—just you mark my words.”

Shanille patted my friend’s back. “You keep chasing that sausage, Dooley,” she said as she gave me a wink.

“Oh, but I will,” said Dooley. “That sausage isn’t getting away with this. Not on my watch.”

Chapter 18

The next day Dooley and I were riding in the car again, with Odelia steering it in the direction of Happy Bays, our neighboring town. I know what you’re thinking: isn’t it odd for a pair of cats to spend so much time riding in cars? Isn’t that something more often associated with the canine species? And you would be absolutely right. Dogs have cornered the market on cute pictures taken with their tongues dangling out of car windows, spreading their slobber to the far corners of the globe as the wind makes their flabby features flop to and fro. But that doesn’t mean cats can’t enjoy the occasional car ride too, right?

Though I have to admit I’d much rather have both feet on terra firma than in some metal box hurtling along the road on rubber wheels. It is unnatural, and even though it’s necessary, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“So where are we going?” asked Dooley, probably eager to resume his spreading of good deeds as soon as possible.

“We’re going to talk to Daphne Wimmer’s friend,” said Odelia. “Grace Ojala. She’s the woman who provided Daphne with an alibi for the night her husband died.”

“You think Daphne is somehow involved in her husband’s death?” I asked, surprised by this development.

“No, but I have to make sure she was where she said she was,” intimated Odelia. “That way I can eliminate her from the investigation and move on to other, more likely suspects.” Her face took on a grim note when she added, “Like Dino Wimmer’s business partner, or his client.”

“You really think that’s where the answer to this mystery lies, do you?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Max, but it certainly looks like the most plausible avenue to pursue at this moment.”

“What about Rose?” I asked. “She and her dad fought a lot, as several witnesses have now confirmed. And she was the only one home that night with her dad. She could have dumped those pills in his drink.”

“Possible,” Odelia allowed, “but unlikely. Why would Rose kill her father and then cry wolf? The police have accepted his death as a suicide, so if she’s the killer she would have kept her mouth shut and wouldn’t have asked me to investigate.”

“Or it could be that because she’s guilty she hired you as a way of throwing the suspicion off herself,” I countered. “She didn’t know that night that the police were going to treat her father’s death as a suicide. She could have been hedging her bets.”

“Yeah, but then why did she visit me this morning? By that time it was clear my uncle wasn’t going to investigate further.”

“I still don’t think we should exclude Rose as a potential suspect,” I said. “She had motive, opportunity and means, so there’s that.”

“All right,” said Odelia with a smile and a glance at me through the rearview mirror. “I’ll put her on my list of suspects, Detective Max.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” I said, returning her smile.

“And what about Dick?” asked Dooley. “Is he on the list of suspects, too?”

“Who’s Dick?” asked Odelia, puzzled.

“Dick—the man who sent the picture of his sausage to Rose.”

“Oh, him,” she said with a grin. “Yes, Dooley. I’ll be sure to put him on my suspect list, too.”

We’d arrived at our destination, and I glanced up at the house whose owner had been instrumental in supplying Daphne Wimmer with a solid alibi. I liked Mrs. Wimmer. It’s hard enough for a woman to enter a new relationship where one of the partners has a kid from a previous marriage, but having toface a rebellious teenager who likes to dump a boyfriend like Cole Donalds on the mat and then duke it out with her dad isn’t much fun. And now she’d have to raise the recalcitrant teen all on her own.

The home where Daphne’s friend lived was a nice big house, with a cute little apron of green out in front, behind a picket fence. The mailbox had one of those flags that indicate mail has arrived, and I could see several garden gnomes standing at attention. Tex, an avid garden gnome aficionado, would have yipped at the sight.

Odelia rang the doorbell and soon the lady of the manor opened the door. She was a smallish woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a kindly face. She was wiping her hands on her apron, and I could smell the delicious scent of freshly baked cake wafting from inside the house.

“Come on in,” said the woman. “You must be Odelia Poole. And are these your darlings?”

“Yeah, these are Max and Dooley,” said Odelia. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought them along? They like to go where I go.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” said the woman, and already I was warming to her to a great degree. An Avon ladyand a cat lady. Definitely a woman after my own heart.

“Take a seat,” said the woman as she gestured to a cozy sofa in the bright and airy living room. “I have to take this cake out of the oven but I’ll be with you in a second. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee will be fine,” said Odelia, who’s something of a coffee addict.

Unfortunately she didn’t offer us any refreshments, but I decided to overlook this minor faux-pas. I was sure that soon she would rectify this oversight by presenting us with a nice bowl filled with goodies.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy accompanying Odelia on these interviews: you get to see how the other half eats. And join in.

“So what can I do for you?” said our hostess as she placed a tray with two cups of coffee on the coffee table and took a seat.

“Well, as I told you over the phone I was asked by Rose Wimmer to look into the sudden death of her father two nights ago,” Odelia began, “and now I’m trying to establish a timeline of events, and trying to figure out where everyone was at the time of Mr. Wimmer’s death.”

“Daphne told me all about it. Terrible, isn’t it? Such a tragedy for the family. He wasn’t even fifty yet. And a young daughter. Terrible—just terrible.”

“So you and Daphne are friends? Or colleagues?”

“Friends and colleagues,” said Mrs. Ojala with a nod. “We’ve known each other since we both worked as secretaries for Jackson Securities, an investment company that went belly-up a couple of years ago. By the time the company failed Daphne had already moved on, having just gotten married toDino Wimmer. I stayed, but could see that things weren’t going well. So when Daphne suggested I join her in selling Avon products, I decided after long consideration to take the leap. And we’ve been proud Avon representatives ever since—and with great success, I might add.”

“And you and Daphne had one of your Avon events two nights ago?”

“Yes, we had back-to-back events all weekend. So Daphne decided to stay over. It’s something we’ve gotten into the habit of doing. We like to call it our bi-weekly slumber parties.” She smiled. “Mixing business with pleasure. We have dinner, catch up—it’s always fun when it’s just us girls, without our husbands. Mike, that’s my husband, was out of town this weekend so it was just me and Daphne.”

“So you can confirm that Daphne was here with you all weekend—and more specifically that particular night?”

“Yes. She was staying in the guest room, and we’d just gone to bed when the call came in that something had happened. She left immediately.”

“And what time was this?”

“Oh, I don’t know—two o’clock in the morning? We’d stayed up late talking, and I’d just fallen asleep when she woke me up and said Rose had called and said something terrible had happened and she had to leave immediately.” She frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re asking all these questions, though. Dino committed suicide, right? So what does it matter where Daphne was when it happened?”

“Rose doesn’t believe her father killed himself. She thinks he was murdered, so it’s important to determine where everybody was at the time he died.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Ojala looked perturbed. “So you think—or Rose thinks that… Daphne killed her husband? Is that it?”

“These are just routine questions, Mrs. Ojala,” said Odelia with a smile. “At this point in the investigation I’m just trying to collect as much information as I can.”

“Right,” said the woman, who didn’t look convinced. “Well, I can honestly tell you that I’m greatly surprised. Daphne said Dino committed suicide, so I don’t really understand…”

“I’m not saying Dino was murdered,” said Odelia. “All I’m saying is that we want to find out what happened. And if Mr. Wimmer really killed himself, that’s what my investigation will bear out. And if he didn’t…” She let the words hang in the air, and Grace Ojala’s eyes widened.

“Murder,” she said. “Do you really think so?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

“Well, I can assure you that if Dino was murdered, Daphne had nothing to do with it. In the first place she was right here when it happened, and in the second—Daphne isn’t a killer. She adored her husband. She would never do anything to harm him, or Rose.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Mrs. Ojala,” said Odelia as she got up. “You’ve been very helpful.”

All I could think was: where was that bowl of kibble?

Chapter 19

Odelia was seated in her editor’s office, going through her notes while Dan stared off into space and digested what she’d just told him. She liked to bounce her ideas off the experienced editor, and not just her story ideas but the results of her sleuthing efforts, too. Oftentimes Dan could come up with something she hadn’t thought of, or point her in an entirely new direction.

The editor had been playing around with some new gimmick on his phone when she walked in. It was a video from one of Dwayne Johnson’s movies, with Dan’s head transposed over that of the actor. It was done in such a neat way it looked amazingly real. It was called a deepfake video, and was the work of Dan’s computer geek nephew.

“So the wife was out of town,” said Dan now, “the daughter was the only one in the house and she noticed nothing of this so-called murder, and the alarm was on and the door locked and bolted.”

“Yep, that seems to be about the gist of it,” said Odelia.

“I’d say the girl is way off base saying her dad is the victim of murder,” said Dan. “Unless she killed him, which seems very unlikely.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’d ask me to investigate if she killed her dad.”

“What about physical evidence? Fingerprints, footprints, DNA evidence, that kind of thing?”

“The only fingerprints found on the pill bottle belonged to Dino Wimmer, and the prints on the glass on his desk, too. No evidence of a breakin at the house was found, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. Dino could have opened the door to his killer himself.”

“You’re thinking about this business partner—this…”

“Romney Knight. Yeah, he seems the most likely candidate. If he was heavily invested in the idea of lending money to Leo Kemp, and if he thought Dino was standing in the way, he may have figured it was in his best interest to get rid of the man.”

“I know Leo Kemp. Well, superficially, at least. He’s what you might call a shark. Has been known to dabble in some unsavory business dealings. So Wimmer was taking the right course of action when he decided not to get in bed with the guy.”

“You think Kemp might be involved?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. He needs the money and he needs this deal. Without the profits he stands to make when this project goes through the future of his company hangs in the balance.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” Dan confirmed. “So if I were you I’d take a closer look at Mr. Kemp—but be careful. This man likes to play dirty.”

“Including murder?”

Dan raised a meaningful eyebrow. It spoke volumes.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Once Odelia had left the office, Kimberly entered Dan’s lair. “Odelia still working on that Dino Wimmer case?” she asked.

“Yep. Still trying to figure out whodunit,” said the editor.

“Look, I know it’s probably not my place to tell you this, Dan,” said the junior reporter, “but are you sure this is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?” asked Dan, now giving his latest hire the benefit of his full attention.

“I mean—she’s doing all this investigating on company time, effectively on your dime. Shouldn’t she be conducting her investigations on her own time? Just a thought.”

Dan smiled.“You think she’s taking advantage of me? Playing me for a sucker?”

Kimberly held up her hands.“I’m just wondering how this all works, Chief. I’ve only been here two days, so I have no idea what the procedure is, but I see Odelia, your star reporter, spending all of her time doing something that’s not connected with the paper, so naturally I’m wondering…”

“Look, Odelia’s investigations invariably lead to front-page articles that are read by lots and lots of people,” said Dan. “So even though it may look as if she’s off doing her own stuff on the company dime and on company time, in the end it translates to good copy and even better circulation numbers.”

“Okay,” said Kimberly with a shrug. “Just thought I’d ask, that’s all.”

“No, that’s all right,” said Dan. “I can see how this must look to you. But I can assure you that I know what I’m doing, Kimberly, and so does Odelia.”

“Hey, it’s your paper,” said Kimberly, and returned to her spot at the reception desk. Dan had given her an article to write on the theft of ten chickens from a man named Farmer Giles, and as she reread her copy she wondered how foolish Dan could be to let his only reporter run around chasingsome nonexistent killer while he let prime talent like her languish on chicken theft stories.

It just didn’t seem fair somehow.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Odelia waved when she caught sight of Rose. The girl looked happy to see her, and immediately came running over. School was out and dozens of students were streaming through the school gates. Odelia had parked herself right next to it, along with a small throng of waiting parents, and when Rose joined her they decided to go for a short walk to the nearby park.

“So what have you found out?” asked Rose, whose cheeks were red and who looked better now than when Odelia had seen her last.

“Not much,” said Odelia as they took a seat on a park bench and watched the never-ending flow of human traffic. Kids playing in the playground with their moms and dads keeping an eye nearby. People walking their dogs. Joggers keeping up the pace. “Oh, before I forget, I’ve got something foryou.” She handed Rose back her phone and the girl grabbed it like a lifeline.

“Thanks. I missed this.”

“I thought you would have.”

“Any news on who sent me those creepy messages?”

“Not yet.”

Rose nodded, and immediately checked what texts she’d missed.

“I just talked to Daphne’s friend Grace Ojala,” said Odelia. “To see if Daphne was where she said she was.”

“And? Was she?”

“Yeah, looks like she was.”

“Daphne would never do anything to hurt my dad,” said Rose as she shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans jacket. “Whatever her faults, she was devoted to him.”

“I also talked to your dad’s business partner at the bank. His co-manager.”

“Mr. Knight.”

“Yeah. Looks like they were in the middle of some big dispute. Mr. Knight wanted to invest in a particular business deal, but your dad was dead set against it. Now that your dad is gone the deal is likely to go through.”

“That’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

“It depends. In this case I think it is, especially since the person profiting from the deal is a shady businessman. So now we have two people who stood to gain from your father’s death.”

“So are you going to tell the police to arrest them?”

Odelia smiled.“It’s not that simple, Rose. It’s not enough that you have a suspicion about a person. You have to prove that they actually did something wrong.”

“So can’t you go out and prove it? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m a reporter dabbling in crime detection. I’m not a professional detective and I’m not a police officer. So I don’t have access to a lot of the stuff that the police have. Though I am working on another angle. The night your dad was killed a car pulled out from in front of your house—at least according to your neighbor.”

“Mrs. Bird. She’s a weirdo. I wouldn’t listen to her if I were you.”

“She seems pretty sure in this case. Couldn’t give us a lot of detail but we’re checking traffic cameras at a nearby intersection to see if we can’t figure out who was driving that car.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have access to that kind of stuff?”

“I don’t, but my boyfriend does.”

Rose glanced over.“It must be fun to have a cop boyfriend. And especially one as handsome as yours.”

“It is a lot of fun,” she confirmed. She patted the girl’s knee. “I also talked to your boyfriend, by the way.”

“Oh, God,” Rose muttered, and looked away. “What did he have to say?”

“Well, he seems to think that your dad was under a lot of pressure.”

“He thinks I’m full of crap,” said Rose.

“He didn’t say that.”

“No, he told me. He literally said I’m full of crap. But I’m not. I know my dad, and he would never do this.”

“What about the note he left?”

“He didn’t write that—it’s not even his handwriting. Well, it looks like his handwriting, only it’s not. Someone forged that note to make it look like he killed himself.” Abruptly she got up. “Look, if you’re going to try to convince me I’m wrong, I’ll go and find another detective, Miss Poole.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Odelia quickly. “But you understand that I might find that your dad did kill himself, right?”

“You won’t, because he didn’t,” said Rose curtly, then promptly stalked off. She turned and said, “You have to try harder, Miss Poole. And don’t listen to my idiot boyfriend!”

And then she was gone.

Chapter 20

Dooley and I had been wandering through the park, discussing the case and Dooley’s fascination with Sausage Man as he now referred to his chosen killer, when we suddenly saw a familiar figure seated on a park bench. It was none other than Odelia, and judging from the way Rose Wimmer was walking away from her, hiking her backpack higher up her slender form, she’d just been in conference with her client—if a non-paying teenager can be called a client.

“Hey, you guys,” our human said when we joined her on that bench and took a seat right next to her. “I just talked to Rose. She doesn’t seem very happy with the progress I’ve made—or the lack of progress.”

“What did she say?” I asked, as I stared after the teenager as she walked off.

“She said not to believe a word her idiot boyfriend says for one thing,” said Odelia as she rubbed her eyes. “And she’s still adamant her dad was murdered, that much was obvious.”

“This is a weird case,” I ventured. “A case that isn’t much of a case, with not much to go on. A case without a real client.”

“I know. I’m not even sure there’s even a crime to investigate.” She sighed. “Why am I doing this, you guys? Please tell me.”

“Because you have a hunch,” I told her. “And a good reporter—or amateur sleuth—always follows those hunches, wherever they may lead.”

She smiled and patted my head.“You know you’re the best sidekick a detective could ever hope to find?”

“Or you’re the best sidekick a feline dick could ever hope to find,” I countered.

At the mention of the word dick Dooley looked up.“Have you found him?” he asked. “Sausage Man? Have you discovered his identity?”

“Not yet,” said Odelia. “Chase is still looking into that.”

“Maybe you should call him?” Dooley suggested.

“He would have called me if he’d discovered something. It’s not so easy. As I understand it they have to get in touch with Facebook and ask them to supply the information connected with this particular Messenger account. Also, I don’t want to bother Chase while he’s at work. Not with something that has no bearing on the case.”

“No bearing on the case!” said Dooley. “It’s only the most important piece of evidence! In fact it’s the only piece of evidence you have so far.”

“There’s also the car,” I told him. “The car the neighbor saw? That could also prove very important.” I turned to our human. “No news on that traffic camera footage?”

“Nope,” said Odelia. “Nothing so far.”

“You’re right,” I said. “This is one frustrating case.”

And so we just sat there for a moment, enjoying the day, which was shaping up to be a really nice autumn day. The leaves in the park had turned yellow and gold and had been starting to fall, and there was a definite crispness in the air that was very pleasant. Don’t get me wrong, I like it when the weather is nice and balmy, and when the sun is out, but temperatures don’t need to get too high for me to start getting a little uncomfortable. It’s this coat of fur, you see. It’s not that I can go and take it off if I get too hot. One of the less enjoyable aspects of being a cat. No zipper!

Odelia finally got up and stretched.“I better get back to the office, or Dan will wonder what happened to me.” She grimaced. “I need to go and talk to the winner of the hog wrestling competition that took place last weekend.”

I grinned.“What a fascinating life you lead, Odelia.”

She gave me a mock flick on the ear, and then we were heading into town again. And we’d just arrived at her office when suddenly the door of a car parked in front of the Gazette swung open and a man came out, looking positively annoyed. He was big and burly and had one of those battering rams for chins that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a boxing ring. He was also wearinga nice suit, but that didn’t detract from the menace he exuded.

“Miss Poole!” he said, striding up to us with purposeful stride. “I want a word with you.”

“Mr. Kemp, isn’t it?” she said. “Leo Kemp?”

“That’s right. You have got to stop spreading these nasty rumors about me, Miss Poole,” said the man, and took an intimidating stance right in front of our human. So intimidating in fact that I eyed the man with a heightened sense of alarm.

“What rumors?” asked Odelia, clearly taken aback by this sudden intervention.

“You have been telling people that I murdered my banker, haven’t you? And spreading all kinds of lies about the deal Dino Wimmer and I were working on. Well, I’m telling you now that this has got to stop or I’m filing charges—is that understood?”

Odelia frowned.“I didn’t spread any rumors, Mr. Kemp. I haven’t written a single word about Mr. Wimmer’s death. Yet.”

“And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t,” he said, and was stabbing a finger in her direction. “I’ll sue you and your two-bit newspaper for slander and defamation of character. I’ll put you out of business! You’ll never work in this town again!”

Odelia was so taken aback by this that she didn’t say a word, but merely watched the man get back into his car and drive off. Then she took out her phone and started snapping pictures of the car as it made a U-turn then drove off with tires screeching.

“Well, I never,” she said.

“Who was that horrible man?” asked Dooley.

“Leo Kemp. Real estate developer involved in a deal with First Financial Crest,” she said as she checked if the pictures she’d taken had come out all right. “I just changed my mind, you guys. The winner of the hog wrestling competition will have to wait. First I’m going to show these pictures to Rose’s neighbor and ask her if she recognizes this car.”

And as she took off in the direction of her own car, Dooley and I hot on her trail, I noticed how a young woman with green-rimmed glasses had just stepped out of the Gazette office and was intently staring after us. It was Kimberly, Odelia’s new colleague.

Chapter 21

We arrived at the home of Rose Wimmer and her mother Daphne soon after and Odelia immediately walked up to the house right next door and rang the bell. When an older woman appeared, a puzzled look on her face, Odelia said,“Mrs. Bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My grandmother was here yesterday,” Odelia explained, “and you told her about a car you saw the night Mr. Wimmer died, remember?”

“Oh, sure,” said the woman, and directed a curious glance down at Dooley and me. “These your cats?” she asked.

“Yeah, they’re with me,” Odelia confirmed. “So I would like you to look at a picture of a car now and tell me if you recognize it as the car that you saw that night.”

“I have a fur baby myself, you know,” said Mrs. Bird. “I don’t know if your grandma told you this but I have a precious baby named Earl.” And to show us she meant what she said and intended to prove it she half-turned and bellowed, “Earl! Come over here a minute, will you!”

Immediately a small furball came tripping up to the door and halted in his tracks the moment his beady little eyes landed on us.

“Hey, Earl,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“More cats,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right. You talked to Harriet and Brutus yesterday, didn’t you?” I said.

“Will you look at that,” said Mrs. Bird. “They’re communicating. Getting to know each other. How sweet.” She smiled at Odelia. “They tell you that cats and dogs don’t get along but that’s just a load of rubbish. My Earl loves cats. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

Earl grunted,“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I love cats, but I don’t mind them.”

“So about this car,” said Odelia, holding up her phone. “Could you just take a quick look and tell me—”

“I used to have a cat, you know,” said Mrs. Bird. “But her and Earl didn’t get along for some reason. She kept clawing at him and hissing and hitting him. Once she scratched his nose so hard it bled.”

“Right,” said Odelia, who clearly wasn’t all that gripped by this fascinating story as she should have been. She was still holding up her phone in a fruitless attempt to interest Mrs. Bird in the picture of Leo Kemp’s automobile.

“So I had a choice to make, didn’t I? So I got rid of the cat for Earl’s sake.”

“You got rid of the cat?” I said, highly perturbed by this denouement.

“I didn’t have her put down if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mrs. Bird hastened to clarify as if she’d noticed my surprise. “I gave her to my niece, who just loves cats.” She shrugged. “Ever since then Earl has been a little gun shy around cats. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

“What do you expect when you’re suddenly attacked without warning?” Earl grunted.

“So about this car,” Odelia prompted, still holding onto a glimmer of hope that the conversation would wend its way to a more productive stage, more specifically the identification of Leo Kemp’s car.

“I’m not going to scratch you,” I assured Earl. “In fact I don’t think I’ve ever scratched a dog in my life.”

“We’ve scratched plenty of humans, though,” said Dooley.

“All of them bad guys,” I hastened to clarify when Earl lifted an eyebrow.

Mrs. Bird was finally glancing at the phone Odelia held out for her.“Could be,” she allowed. “You know, cars all look the same to me. It could have been this car or it could have been a different one. Whose is it?”

“Leo Kemp. A businessman.”

“Well, like I said it’s possible. Some people know their cars. My husband was like that. He could recognize any car. Make and model and even the year they were built and what engine and all of that nonsense. For me a car is a car.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t help you much, does it, sweetie?”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Odelia, looking slightly disappointed.

“So you still think Dino Wimmer was murdered, do you?”

“It’s a possibility,” said Odelia cautiously.

“No neighbor of ours has ever been murdered before,” said Earl, and gave me a look that seemed to indicate it was entirely my fault that now someone had.

“You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, did you?” I asked.

“I already told those friends of yours,” said the dog. “I didn’t notice nothing, except a big to-do when the police arrived and that ambulance.”

“But before that…”

“Nothing,” he said. “And believe you me, I would have barked the house down if anyone so much had dared enter Mr. Wimmer’s house to murder him.” And then he thrust out his puny chest. “I may not look like much of a guard dog but I will protect my human at all cost, and if a killer had been sneaking around next door, I would have noticed. And you can quote me on that.”

“One more question, Earl,” said Dooley.

“Shoot,” said the little dog.

“Has your human by any chance been getting pictures of a sausage on her phone?”

The conversation more or less wound down after that, and I could tell that our surprise visit hadn’t altered Earl’s view on cats as a nose-scratching species to be watched out for. Only now he seemed to think we were all slightly loony, too.

Chapter 22

Rose Wimmer had decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. She could use the fresh air. She needed to clear her head and consider her options. It was obvious now that Odelia Poole, in spite of her promises, wasn’t going to be able to deliver. So far she hadn’t unearthed anything in the nature of conclusive evidence of her dad’s murder, and Rose had the sneaking suspicion that secretly Miss Poole agreed with the cops that Dad’s death was suicide and not murder.

It was starting to dawn on Rose that she was the only person in the world who believed that her dad had been killed—even Daphne kept giving her a look of pity every time Rose broached the subject.

But she was still absolutely convinced of her case. Dad would never kill himself. He just wouldn’t. No matter what anyone believed, she just knew.

And she’d just kicked an inoffensive pebble when suddenly her phone chimed and she took it out. She frowned as she read the message. It was from an unknown number and it read: ‘I know who killed your dad. Come to the Triple Platinum Gym. Alone.’

Her heart lifted. Finally. A clue. A witness, probably. Or an accomplice of the killer who’d suddenly had a change of heart and was ready to confess. And it was with a spring in her step that she turned on her heel and started walking back to town.

She’d show them. Daphne, the cops, Odelia Poole. She’d show all of them how she’d been right all along and they were wrong.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Vesta was staring before herself into space, thinking dark thoughts about this so-called investigation Odelia had gotten her involved in.“I don’t get it,” she said. “First she gets all hot and bothered about this case and then she just drops it like a hot brick. What gives?”

Next to her, Scarlett was sipping from a hot beverage which could have been herbal tea. It certainly smelled like herbal tea, the sweet fumes tickling Vesta’s nostrils and provoking a gag reflex. She was one of those people who are allergic to herbal tea of any type or persuasion. “When you say she dropped it you mean she solved the case? So who’s the killer?”

“She didn’t solve it as far as I know, but she hasn’t said a word about it since last night, when we delivered our report.”

“Maybe she’s thinking about the next steps she needs to take,” Scarlett suggested.

“I think we’ve just gotten dumped, Scarlett. That’s what I think is going on here. And I can tell you right now that this is the last time I’m getting sucked into one of Odelia’s investigations. We’re not even getting paid for this stuff.”

“Odelia isn’t getting paid,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Oh, she’s getting paid all right. Getting paid by Dan Goory. So she’s got her bases covered. It’s us who’ve been working our asses off for nothing.” She slammed the table. “But no more. When she asks us to do legwork for her again I’ll tell her she can do it herself.”

“I quite enjoy doing legwork for your grandkid,” said Scarlett. “I’ve never been a detective before and I have to say it’s a lot of fun. You get to talk to people who’d otherwise never give you the time of day, and you get to go places you wouldn’t otherwise be allowed to visit. People let you into their homes—I love it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Vesta glanced across the street and happened to see Rose Wimmer, the girl who’d set this whole thing in motion. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

Scarlett followed her gaze and frowned.“Poor girl. Not only did she lose her dad but now it’s just her and that stepmom of hers. Must be pretty tough.”

“Well, I don’t care how tough it is,” said Vesta. “I’m done working for free. If I ever take a case again I’m asking top dollar. Paid in advance.”

“You can’t expect that girl to pay top dollar for us to find her daddy’s killer, Vesta. That just wouldn’t be right.”

Vesta took a swig from her cup of hot chocolate, trying to drown out the foul smell of Scarlett’s herbal tea with the sweet aroma of her chocolate delight. “We’re not even sure her dad was killed,” she reiterated. “As far as I’m concerned this whole thing’s been nothing but a wild goose chase. And you know what else I think?”

“No, what?”

“That girl has been playing us for a bunch of fools. I’ll bet she knows exactly what happened that night. And this whole thing…” She made a vague all-encompassing gesture. “Is nothing but a smokescreen.”

“A smokescreen? What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Vesta admitted. “But whatever it is, I don’t like it. We’ve been used, Scarlett. Used and abused.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“And I’m sure I’m not. Just you mark my words. This isn’t over. Not by a mile.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Rose had arrived at the gym and discovered that a closed sign hung on the door. She placed her hands against the glass and peered inside. If the person who sent her that text was inside, she didn’t see them. And as she tried the door handle, she discovered it was unlocked. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed inside and found herself in the club’s reception area. The lights were out, and it was a little dark inside. She swallowed away a feeling of uneasiness and said, in a small voice, “Hello? Anybody here?”

When no response came, she ventured deeper into the club, past the turnstile that easily yielded to pressure and now found herself in the club proper, where a host of workout machines stood deserted, the place devoid of its usual hustle and bustle of people groaning and sweating and of loud music pumping from the speakers.

Once more she called out,“Hello?” and when no reply came, she decided that maybe she better wait outside.

And that’s when she saw it. Her first glimpse was through the large mirror that covered an entire section of wall. A man was lying on his back on one of the benches placed under a weightlifting machine.

“Oh, hi,” she said, as she quickened her step to join the man. “Did you send me that message, sir?”

It was only when she’d crossed the floor and reached the man that she saw that it was none other than the club’s manager, Jared Zmuda, dressed in his usual fluorescent shorts and Iron Man tank top. His eyes were wide, his features contorted into an expression of surprise. His surprise may well have been related tothe heavy metal bar that was pressing down onto his throat.

It took only one look at the man’s face to know that he was dead.

Chapter 23

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“Do you have any ideas for good deeds?”

“Why? Have you run out of ideas?”

“Kinda. The day is almost over and I haven’t done my good deed of the day yet. And now I’m starting to worry.”

“Why? What do you think will happen when you don’t do a good deed today?”

“I’m not sure, but it probably won’t be good.”

I gave my friend a reassuring smile.“Look, Dooley,” I said, “this good deed thing is something you choose. Nobody is forcing you to do it. So when you skip a day nobody is going to be upset with you.”

He gave this some thought, then said,“Are you sure, cause it feels like someone will.”

“Nobody is holding you accountable, Dooley. If you don’t do a good today you can do one tomorrow, or not.”

“Or I could do two good deeds tomorrow. One for today and one for tomorrow.”

“Sure. You can do whatever you want.”

He looked absolutely relieved at this, and frankly so was I. This good deed stuff had begun to give me cause for concern. If he was going to keep running in front of cars and clear out movie theaters we were in for a rough ride.

We were stretched out on the rug, having a relaxing time. Odelia and Chase were in the kitchen preparing dinner, and next to us Harriet and Brutus were also lying on the new rug Odelia had bought. It was a nice rug, one of those high-pile ones that are just heaven to dig your claws into. Which is probably why Odelia had forbidden us to do just that. She hadn’t said anything about not lying on the rug, though, even though I could see a rug ban in our near future, seeing as how cat hair has a tendency to stick and is hard to get out of those high-pile rugs, even with the best vacuum cleaner on the market.

But for now we were all enjoying this leisurely time.

“What’s all this about good deeds?” asked Harriet now.

“Oh, Dooley saw this thing on television about boy scouts being required to do a good deed a day and he figured he wants to become a cub scout and try the same.”

“A cub scout, huh?” said Brutus. “And what, may I ask, is a cub scout, Dooley?”

“Well, a cub scout is a member of the Cub Scouts of America,” he said, “and he gets together with other cub scouts to go camping and generally have a good time. Oh, and somehow there are cookies involved, though that part is still a little fuzzy to me.”

“You’re going to sell cookies door to door?” asked Harriet with a smirk.

“And go camping? I didn’t know you liked camping,” said Brutus, with an equally sneering quality to his voice.

“Well, if I’m going to be a full-fledged member of the Cub Scouts of America I don’t mind the camping bit and the cookies bit,” said Dooley. “I just think it will be nice to meet other cubs and get to know them.”

“You do know that the cub scouts aren’t actually cubs, right?” said Brutus.

“Of course I know,” said Dooley. “They’re kids that are cute and cuddly—like cubs.”

“Just checking.”

“And I’m sure they’ll be happy to have a real cub join up—me.”

“You’re not a cub, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Cubs are the young of big cats or bears or foxes. Ours are called kittens—and you, my friend, are not a kitten.”

“But…”

“Dooley could be a member of the Kitten Scouts of America,” Brutus suggested.

“But I…”

“If he was a kitten, which he’s not,” said Harriet.

“Cat Scouts of America, then?”

“But I want to be a cub scout,” said Dooley.

“Impossible,” said Brutus. “You’re not a cub.”

“Max? I can be a cub scout if I want to, right?”

“Um…” I said. I hated to rain on my friend’s parade, but Brutus and Harriet had put me on the spot here. If I said cub scouts were for cats, I would be lying, and if I said they weren’t for cats, I’d be dashing Dooley’s hopes of joining this particular organization Cub Scouts of America—which didn’t exist, as I’d been trying to point out to him, to no avail.

Lucky for me I was saved by the bell. Or in actual fact Odelia’s phone as it started belting out a Dua Lipa song.

“Oh, it’s Rose,” she said as she dried her hands on the kitchen towel and picked up. “Hi, Rose.” She listened for a moment, then her face creased into a frown. “Hold up—calm down. What’s wrong?” Then her eyes went wide and she glanced over to Chase, who was holding a pot of spaghetti, ready to pour it into the strainer Odelia was still holding and looking a little foolish as he did. “I’ll be right there, Rose. Don’t touch anything. Five minutes, all right?” She disconnected then said, “Jared Zmuda is dead. Rose just found him.”

Chase looked at the pot of spaghetti, the pan of spaghetti sauce gently sizzling on the stove, and I could tell he was momentarily struggling to get his priorities straight. Then, finally, he set down the spaghetti, turned off the heat on the stove, and said,“I’ll drive.”

Moments later we were speeding along the road. Odelia was on the phone again, this time with her uncle, and before long we’d arrived at the gym and alighted from the car. Chase and Odelia hurried inside, and so did the rest of us. And true enough: there he was. Jared Zmuda, lying flat on his back on one of those fitness benches. The guy was dead as a dodo, his throat crushed by the weight of the weightlifting apparatus he’d been hoping would improve his general health and wellbeing but had instead—and quite ironically I might add—ended his life.

Chapter 24

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive—well, Uncle Alec and a few of his officers at any rate. Chase, since he was already at the scene, assumed control, and immediately started doing what police detectives like to do in cases like these: looking here and there, searching all around for possibleclues. What seemed uncertain at this point was if this had been a terrible accident or… murder.

Frankly I leaned towards the former. Jared Zmuda had probably underestimated the weight he’d pulled and overestimated his capacity for lifting it. A comment Chase made convinced me of the probability of this theory.

“He shouldn’t have tried to lift such a weight without a spotter,” he told Odelia.

“A spotter?” I asked. “What’s a spotter?”

It was Odelia who responded, as Chase unfortunately is one of those rare humans who can’t understand what cats are saying.

“A spotter is a person who stands next to the person lifting a weight and makes sure that if the person is incapable of making that final push and replace the weight on the stand, assists him. Otherwise he might be in trouble when he can’t.”

“Just like Mr. Zmuda,” I said.

“Just like Jared Zmuda,” she agreed.

But then Uncle Alec came rushing in, followed by Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, and so we all had to take a backseat while the police and the coroner went about their business.

“I’m taking you home with me if that’s all right,” Odelia told Rose as she placed an arm around the shocked girl’s shoulders.

Rose nodded, her eyes teary and her demeanor downcast.

“Poor girl,” I said. “Two dead bodies in two days. It would be enough for anyone to be completely discombobulated.”

“A strange coincidence, though, don’t you think?” said Harriet as she eyed the girl with a touch of suspicion. “First she finds her dad’s body and now this Jared Zmuda guy? What are the odds?”

“Slim,” I agreed.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” said Brutus.

“And I’m sure it’s not,” Harriet snapped.

We followed Odelia and Rose out of the club and to the car. And soon we were on our way back to the house. Arriving there, Odelia proceeded to finish preparing the spaghetti and even though the girl said she wasn’t hungry, Odelia insisted she eat a little. And as soon as she took a first bite, she was wolfing down the entire plate.

“Looks like shock has stimulated her appetite,” said Harriet, still suspicious of the young woman.

“He sent me a message, you know,” said Rose as she pushed her plate away.

“Who sent you a message?” asked Odelia, who’d also managed to empty her plate in record time—a clear sign that shock can act as a stimulant with some people, and an appetite suppressant with others. Both these women clearly were in the first category.

“Jared. Or at least I think it was him. He said to meet him at the club. That he knew who killed my dad. That’s why I was there. And then when I arrived he was dead.”

“Can I see the message?” asked Odelia. Rose handed over her phone. “Unknown number…” she muttered.

“He was murdered, Odelia,” said Rose adamantly. “By the same person who murdered my dad. Jared knew who the murderer was and they killed him before he had the chance to talk.”

“Are you sure it was him that sent this message?”

“Who else could it be? He was the only one there—who else but the person sending that message knew I was meeting him?” When she saw that Odelia wasn’t immediately agreeing with her, her eyes blazed. “You don’t believe me, do you?Again.”

“The thing is that I’m not convinced it was murder, Rose. It could have been an accident. Jared trying to lift a weight that was too great for him, and being crushed to death.”

“It was murder!” Rose said, and shoved her chair back and got up. “I’m going home,” she announced, and grabbed her backpack from the floor. “Younever believe me!”

“No, I want to believe you, Rose,” Odelia said. “But the evidence just isn’t there.” Just then, Odelia’s phone belted out its tune again, and she quickly picked up with a curt, “Yes, Chase?” She listened for a moment, then her eyes slid up Rose’s face.

“What is it?” asked the girl, looking tense.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Odelia disconnected and said,“You were right, Rose. It was murder.”

“See? I told you!”

“The weightlifting machine was sabotaged. When Jared unhooked the safety, the cable stabilizing the weight snapped and the entire thing came crashing down on him.”

“Oh, my God,” said Rose, bringing a distraught hand to her face.

“They found a pair of wire cutters on the floor near the machine. They’re dusting them for prints right now.” She hesitated. “They want you to come down to the police station, Rose. They want to take your fingerprints.”

“My fingerprints! But why?”

“Just a routine thing,” Odelia assured the girl. “So they can eliminate you from their inquiries.”

“They don’t think… I did it?”

“No, of course not. They just want to make sure the prints on the wire cutters aren’t yours. You didn’t touch anything while you were there, right?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Rose. “I didn’t touch a thing. I saw Jared lying there, dead, and the first thing I did was call you.”

“Good. You did good, Rose.” She placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Everything will be just fine. You’ll see.”

“Murder,” said Rose. “Which means the killer must have known Jared wanted to talk to me.” She shivered. “Which means he might have still been there—watching me.”

They were both silent for a moment, then the doorbell rang and Odelia crossed the living room to let the officer in.

“So it was murder,” I said quietly.

“Yeah,” said Harriet, “and I think we all know who did it, don’t we?”

And she directed a hard look at Rose Wimmer.

Chapter 25

“Do you think Mr. Knight did it, Max?” asked Dooley as we rode in Odelia’s car to the police station. Rose was quiet in the passenger seat, looking subdued and a little scared, and Dooley and I were in the back. Harriet and Brutus had decided to stay home. Gran had arrived and had lured them next door with the prospect of some delicious snacks to be had.

“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “Why would a banker kill one of his clients? Especially a client who’s in the process of borrowing a great deal of money so he can launch a chain of fitness clubs? It’s not exactly a sound business tactic. I’m sure business schools everywhere advise against that type of practice.”

“He probably killed Rose’s dad and somehow Jared Zmuda found out and threatened to tell Rose,” said my friend.

The same thought had occurred to me. I still found it hard to credit that the man would go to such lengths. And besides, how did Jared Zmuda know the identity of the killer? What was his involvement? It all made little sense to me, I must admit.

We’d arrived at the police station and Odelia took Rose inside to be fingerprinted.

“I feel like a criminal,” said the girl.

“It’s just routine,” Odelia assured her. “Nobody is accusing you of anything, Rose.”

“Still, I feel as if they are,” she said.

While Rose was being processed, Dooley and I sat in the waiting area out in front of the police station. And that’s why we were soon treated to a rare and fascinating sight: a small procession of police officers arriving, Uncle Alec and Chase Kingsley at the head of the throng, and then proceeding into the precinct, talking animatedly as they did, and all wearing very grave expressions on their faces.

“I think it’s time to go spying again, Dooley,” I announced, and hopped down from the chair I’d been occupying.

“Spying?” he asked. “Where?”

“I have a feeling Uncle Alec discovered something, and he’s going to spill the beans in his office, so that’s where you and I are going to be.”

We hurried out of the building, and soon found ourselves hopping onto the windowsill outside the police chief’s office, putting our inconspicuous ears to the pane. Unfortunately the window was double-paned. But lucky for us cats have superior hearing, so we could still hear everything that was being said. And sure enough, Chase and Uncle Alec were in conference inside, and clearly had important information to share.

“Same guy?” asked Uncle Alec, seated behind his desk and tapping the desk blotter with his stubby fingertips.

“Same guy,” Chase confirmed.

“What guy?” asked Dooley next to me.

“Shh,” I said quietly.

“So it was Jared Zmuda who sent those pictures of his willy to Rose?”

“Yep.”

“Better go and see if those prints have been processed yet,” the Chief grunted. “If it was her we’ve got a clear motive.”

Chase hurried out of the office and I shared a worried look with my friend.

“They think it was Rose,” I said.

“That’s not good.”

“Not good at all.”

“So it was Mr. Zmuda who sent the picture of that sausage?”

“Looks like.”

“But I thought his name was Jared and not Dick?”

“He was probably using a fake name,” I said after a pause.

“And who’s this Willy they’re talking about?”

“Another alias,” I said after another short pause.

“Jared, Dick and Willy. The guy sure gets around,” said Dooley, shaking his head.

But before we could thresh this thing out some more, our attention was attracted by developments inside the office. Chase had returned, and was looking both excited and grim-faced.

“It’s her,” he announced in grave tones.

“Son of a gun,” the Chief said, slapping his desk. “Better get a warrant for her arrest.” And before Chase could comply, he added, “And better add a warrant to search the house. Who knows what we’ll find there.”

Chase locked eyes with his superior officer.“You think she killed her dad, too?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Remember the big fight she had with her dad about the boyfriend? Sounds like a grade-A motive for murder to me.”

“What do we tell Odelia?”

“Don’t tell her anything just yet. She seems to have grown fond of the girl.” But then Chase’s eyes swiveled to the window, followed by Chief Alec’s. “Scratch that,” the Chief grunted. “Looks like my niece’s spies are hard at work already.” He sighed. “Better get her in here. I’ll bring her up to speed. You take Miss Wimmer into custody and get busy on that house search.” Uncle Alec gave us a reproachful look. “Is there nothing in this town that you guys don’t know about?”

I just shrugged and gave him a sheepish look.

Moments later Odelia entered the office after a cursory knock on the door and said,“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, close the door and take a seat.”

Odelia did as she was told, and when she glanced over to where we were still eavesdropping to our hearts’ content, gave us a quick grin and a wave.

“Look, we’re going to have to arrest Rose,” said the Chief, not wasting time getting down to business.

“Arrest Rose! But why?”

“Her fingerprints were on the wire cutters found underneath that bench press machine. So she cut those wires and sent that four-hundred-pound stack of weights crashing down on Jared Zmuda’s throat the moment he activated the machine.”

“But why? Rose is no killer.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that if I were you. It was Zmuda who sent her those pictures of his willy, and presumably it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that.”

“Jared sent those pictures?”

Uncle Alec nodded.“I know it’s a thin excuse for a motive but those fingerprints put her at the scene, and are as good as an admission of guilt, Odelia.”

“But what about that message?”

“What message?”

“The one telling her to come to the club. Did you find out who sent that message?”

“I did. It was sent from Jared’s phone. And I’m gonna go out on a limb here and posit that she sent that message to herself, using the victim’s phone.”

“But why?”

“To give her an excuse to be at the scene of the crime, of course.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If she wanted to kill Jared she could have easily snuck out of the club after he died. She didn’t have to bother with a message or calling me.”

The Chief threw up his hands.“Look, it’s early days, and there’s a lot we don’t know yet, but I’m not taking any chances, and with the evidence we have now, I’m taking my responsibility and having her arrested. We’ll search her room, dig some more into her phone, talk to the boyfriend, and hopefully that will give us a better picture of what we’re dealing with. But I can tell you right now that I have a good feeling about Rose as a suspect. And I think we’ll find that she not only killed Jared Zmuda but her dad, too.”

But Odelia was shaking her head.“You’re making a mistake. Rose isn’t a killer.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” said the Chief, a stubborn expression stealing over his face. “And now you better get those cats out of my face before I arrest them, too.”

“Looks like we’ve worn out our welcome,” I told Dooley, and before Uncle Alec could carry out his threat, we decided to skedaddle.

“Do you think Rose is guilty, Max?” asked Dooley as we made our way back to Odelia’s car.

“I don’t know, Dooley. But things are not looking good for her, that’s for sure.”

And just as we passed the front door of the precinct, I saw that Odelia’s colleague Kimberly was walking in. She had a pep in her step and looked like a reporter on a mission.

Chapter 26

Once we were back at the house it’s safe to say that Odelia’s mood wasn’t good. She kept checking her phone, hoping for an update from Chase or her uncle Alec, and when none seemed forthcoming, plunked down on the couch and sat chewing her nails and watching CNN with the sound off—which in my mind doesn’t really have thesame effect. It’s odd watching all these people talking and having no idea what they’re saying.

Dooley and I tried to console her by pointing out that Uncle Alec was great at what he did and so was Chase, and that if Rose indeed was innocent they would prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.

“Yeah, but what if she’s guilty? Then I’ve taken on a client who not only is a double murderer but tricked me into antagonizing a bunch of innocent people.”

“Well, only two innocent people,” I pointed out. “The banker guy and the real estate mogul. And judging from Mr. Kemp’s performance earlier he doesn’t seem like a nice person anyway.”

“No, but you can see now where he was coming from. Rumors like that could conceivably cause a lot of trouble for his business. And all because a teenager managed to convince me he might be guilty of murder.”

“He still might be,” I said.

“Oh, Max,” she said with a groan, and buried her head in her hands.

“What’s going on here?” asked Gran as she walked in through the sliding glass door, Harriet and Brutus right on her heels. Our fellow cats managed to look both well-fed and complacent, which told me that they’d been snacking on some fine food supplied by Gran while we were looking out for our human’s client’s interests.

“Rose has been arrested on suspicion of murder,” Odelia said.

“Murder? What murder? Her dad?”

“No. Well, yes.”

“Make up your mind. Is it yes or no?”

“There’s been a second murder—or a first one, if Dino’s death was a suicide.”

“A second murder?”

“Or a first one.”

“You’re making me really confused here, Odelia!”

“Jared Zmuda was murdered. He’s the—”

“Gym guy. Yeah, I know who Jared Zmuda is. And Rose killed him?”

“Maybe. Uncle Alec seems to think so. Her fingerprints were found on the murder weapon—which wasn’t actually the murder weapon.”

“Odelia!”

“Okay, so her prints were found on wire cutters that were used to sabotage the weightlifting machine that killed him.”

“He was killed with a weightlifting machine?”

“A bench press machine. He was crushed to death by a weight that smashed down on him when he tried to lift it.”

“Ouch. Sounds painful.” Gran wagged a finger in her granddaughter’s face. “See? I told you those fitness clubs are death traps.”

“You never told me that.”

“I’m telling you now. So what happens next?”

“We wait for your son and my boyfriend to figure out what happened.”

Gran made a scoffing noise.“Then you’re gonna have to wait a long time.” Clearly she didn’t have a high opinion of her son’s detecting skills. She took a seat next to Odelia. “What are you watching this crap for?”

Promptly she used the remote to switch to the Discovery Channel. She turned up the sound. A bird was tweeting, and a soothing voice spoke,“The male Scarlet Macaw boasts a wonderfully colorful plumage. It is designed to attract the female of the species…”

“I like this show,” said Dooley, perking up at the sound of the narrator, who seemed intent on lulling his audience to sleep. Which maybe was a good thing. Odelia at least stopped worrying her fingernails and her shoulders, which she’d almost pulled up to her ears, relaxed a little.

“My main suspect is dead,” Dooley told Gran.

“Oh? And who was your main suspect?” she asked with a smile.

“A man named Dick. Or Willy. But actually his name was Jared. And he liked to send people pictures of his sausage.”

Gran burst into laughter, and even Odelia was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s so funny?” asked Dooley.

“Nothing, buddy,” said Gran, patting my friend on the head.

“I can’t believe you watch this stuff,” Harriet said, referring to the nature show, where the vividly-colored bird had now flown to a different tree to continue his singing. “It’s so boring,” she complained.

“It’s interesting,” Gran said. “You learn something about life. A damn sight better than those terrible reality shows you like to watch.”

“At least those reality shows are real,” Harriet countered.

“Yeah, right,” said Gran.

“I like it,” Brutus announced. “I like to watch birds. It relaxes me.”

“It is relaxing,” said Gran. “And great for your blood pressure. Better than pills.”

“What’s better than pills?” asked Tex as he came walking in the same way Gran had done. He was accompanied by Marge.

“The Discovery Channel,” said Gran. “Half an hour of this stuff and my blood pressure is almost back to normal.”

“Is it true what they’re saying?” asked Marge, darting a worried look at her daughter.

“What are they saying, Mom?” asked Odelia.

“That Rose Wimmer has been arrested for murder? Apparently she killed both her dad and Jared Zmuda.”

Odelia stared at her mom.“Who told you that?”

“Nobody. It’s on the website.”

“What website?”

“The Gazette. I assumed you wrote it?”

“No, I didn’t. In fact nobody is supposed to know Rose was arrested. We’re still hoping she’s innocent.”

“Well, the news is all over the Gazette,” said Marge and took out her phone.

Suddenly all the humans in the room took out their respective phones, and after a moment of frantic surfing, Odelia cried,“Oh, no, she didn’t!”

“Who did what now?” asked Gran, who was always a little slower operating her phone than the younger generation.

“Kimberly! She wrote an article accusing Rose of murder!” Odelia seemed terribly incensed, for her face had turned red and she was gripping that phone so hard I was afraid it would fold under the pressure. “That’s my story! She had absolutely no right to…”

“Police sources,” said Gran, who’d managed to pull up the story and was intently staring at her phone. “What police sources?”

“Someone must have blabbed,” said Odelia. “And it sure wasn’t Chase or my uncle.” Her face had taken on a mutinous look. “I’m going to talk to Dan. This is outrageous.” But before she could call her editor, her phone sang out a tune and she immediately picked up. “Yes, Chase? Any news?”

“Put it on speaker, will you?!” Gran loud-whispered.

Odelia complied, and suddenly Chase’s voice sounded from Odelia’s phone. “I’m afraid we found some very damning evidence in Rose’s room, babe,” the cop said.

“What damning evidence?”

“A quick look at her computer reveals she’s been googling ‘Ways to make a murder look like a suicide’ and ‘How many sleeping pills does it take to kill a person.’”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia, closing her eyes.

“Also your uncle discovered a police report filed three years ago. Turns out Rose stabbed her dad with a kitchen knife. Police were called for a domestic disturbance incident, but no charges were ever brought against her.”

“This isn’t good,” said Odelia, probably the understatement of the evening.

“So I’m afraid the Chief has placed her under arrest for the murder of her dad and the murder of Jared Zmuda. I’m sorry, babe.”

“I don’t understand. Why would she ask me to investigate her dad’s murder if she was guilty? And why kill Jared and then leave those wire cutters lying around, covered in her fingerprints?”

“She’s not a professional killer, Odelia. She’s just a girl who’s very disturbed. Look, I gotta go. Rose’s mom just arrived with a lawyer and we’re going to do the first interview.”

“Keep me informed, will you?”

“Will do,” he said, and signed off.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room, then that man on TV said, still in those same unctuous tones,“And there is the female of the species now, answering the male’s mating call. His colorful plumage has sealed the deal again.”

And Rose Wimmer’s amateurism had sealed her fate.

Chapter 27

That night Odelia slept a little fitfully. Chase hadn’t come home—he was probably still working on the case—and finally our human had decided to go to bed. And instead of going to cat choir, as we usually do, we decided to stay home and keep her company.

“Sad, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley quietly.

We were both lying at the foot of the bed and didn’t want to disturb Odelia by talking too loudly.

“Yeah, terrible business,” I said commiseratively.

“Do you think that second male bird, the one whose feathers weren’t as colorful, will also find a female? Or do you think he will die alone, never having enjoyed true love?”

“I thought you were talking about Rose,” I said.

“Oh, no. I was talking about those birds.”

“Yeah, Dooley,” I said. “I’m sure that second male bird will have found a mate for life, too. And if he didn’t it’s not as big a deal as Rose Wimmer having to go to prison for life.”

He thought about that for a moment, then conceded,“Yeah, that’s not a good prospect for Rose, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“So you think she’s guilty, do you?”

“Chase seems to think so, and he has the proof to back it up.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right,” he said. “It’s a pity. She seems like such a nice girl.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. At least that nice housekeeper Gran mentioned won’t have to clean up after Rose and her dad anymore.”

I stared at him.“Say that again?”

“What?”

“What you just said.”

“That the housekeeper won’t have to clean up after Rose and her dad?”

I nodded thoughtfully.“You know, Dooley. I’m not sure if you’re a genius or an idiot savant, but you just gave me an entirely new perspective on this case.”

“I’m not an idiot, Max,” my friend said softly.

“I didn’t say you were an idiot. I said you were possibly an idiot savant.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, it is,” I said with a grin. “Now let me think, Dooley. I have the impression I’ve been very complacent about this whole case. Very complacent indeed.”

“I have no idea what you just said but I’ll be quiet from now on.” And he promptly dozed off.

The sun was already rising over the horizon when I finally managed to put the entire puzzle together—or at least I thought I had.

Odelia woke up with a groan and patted the empty spot next to her.“Chase didn’t come home?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said.

Just then, the front door opened and moments later heavy steps on the stairs announced the lanky cop’s arrival. When he appeared at the door he looked exhausted.

“I’m bushed,” he announced and dropped into bed without removing his clothes, and pressed a quick kiss on Odelia’s cheek.

“So what’s the verdict?” she asked.

“Guilty,” he said. “Though she’s not admitting a thing. Says we’ve got it all wrong and someone is framing her.”

“Framing her!”

“Yeah. Your uncle accused her of watching too many crime shows but she stuck to her guns. Says someone is trying to make it look as if she’s a killer and she swears up and down she’s not. She also said you’re looking into the case and she’s sure you’ll be able to prove that she’s innocent.” He yawned.

“I’m not sure her confidence is entirely justified,” said Odelia ruefully.

“Yeah, well, she fooled us all.”

“Though me most of all,” said Odelia.

“Do you mind if I take a quick nap?” said Chase, and before Odelia could respond, his head was lolling to the side and he was fast asleep.

She carefully slipped from beneath the covers, placed a blanket on top of the cop, and tiptoed from the room.

“Odelia?” I said. “If you have time could I bounce some ideas off you?”

“Sure thing, Max,” she said. “I’ll take a quick shower and then you can bounce all you want.” But then she caught sight of the clock on the nightstand and said, “Shoot. I had no idea it was this late. We’ll have to do this later, Max. I should have been in the office twenty minutes ago.”

Dooley, who’d only now woken up, yawned and said, “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” I said. “I had a brainwave last night, but apart from that…”

His eyes had widened considerably.“A brainwave! Max, we have to go to the doctor immediately! Are you in any pain?”

“I’m fine, Dooley!” I said with a laugh.

“But your brain! It’s waving!”

“I just had an idea, okay? One of those bright ideas that suddenly come over you.”

He stared at me, clearly having no idea what I was talking about.

“I’m absolutely fine, Dooley. Just that I may have just solved this murder.”

“But… wasn’t it solved already?”

“I don’t think so. I think Chase and Uncle Alec arrested the wrong person.”

“You have to tell them. You have to tell them all about that wave in your brain.”

“It won’t do Rose much good,” I said. “You see, I don’t have any proof. And without proof they won’t be convinced.”

“Well, then let’s get us some proof,” he said simply.

“All right. Let’s get us some proof,” I said with a smile.

Chapter 28

Odelia was in and out of the shower in a flash. Foregoing her usual morning coffee, instead she grabbed a bagel, sliced it and smeared it with cream cheese, stuffed it into her mouth and was off at a trot. Dan didn’t mind her arriving late but she’d hoped to arrive before Kimberly so she could discuss her new colleague’s stunt with the editor.

When she arrived at the office, though, Kimberly was already seated at her desk. The junior reporter greeted her with a chipper smile and a hearty,“Good morning, Odelia. Sleep well?”

Instead of returning the smile and greeting, Odelia walked straight on through to Dan’s office and closed the door. “We need to talk,” she said.

Dan, who must have been admiring more of his nephew’s deepfake videos for he was looking at his phone and chuckling softly before himself, took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “What is it?”

“The article about Rose Wimmer. Did you approve it?”

“What article? What are you talking about?”

“It’s on the website, Dan!”

“Is it?” When she practically shoved her phone in the man’s face, and after he’d put his glasses back on and peered at it for a moment, his face cleared. “Oh, now I remember. Great piece of writing, Odelia. Excellent stuff. Who would have thought the daughter did it, eh?”

She gritted her teeth, having to fight back the urge to hit her editor over the head with her phone.“I didn’t write this, Dan. Kimberley did.”

A look of confusion mantled the man’s features. “She did? Well, I’ll be damned.”

“This was my story, Dan. My case and my story. So why did Kimberly—”

“I wrote the story because you wouldn’t,” suddenly a voice spoke in Odelia’s ear. Her junior colleague had silently opened the door and walked in.

Odelia whirled around.“What are you talking about?”

“It was obvious to me that you were protecting Rose Wimmer, and when I heard what happened I decided to write the story you wouldn’t.” When Odelia just stared at her, Kimberly passed by Odelia, placed both hands on Dan’s desk and said, “I told you this would happen, Dan. I warned you. That’s what you get when a reporter starts taking on clients. Her priorities get scrambled, her allegiances blurred. Instead of writing a killer piece on this girl’s murderous tendencies she wasn’t going to write a single thing. Instead she’d probably have written a piece to defend the murderous wench.”

“You snuck behind my back!” said Odelia. “Talked to cops who had no business divulging this kind of information. Rose Wimmer may very well be innocent—or not—but it’s not up to us to give her a trial by media. She is still innocent until proven guilty, or didn’t they teach you that incollege?”

But Kimberly stuck her chin in the air and faced off against Odelia.“I think you should decide once and for all if you’re a reporter or a private detective, Odelia. Because it’s obvious to me that you can’t be both. What do you think, Dan?”

“Yeah, what do you think, Dan!” said Odelia, who’d crossed her arms in front of her chest and had raised her voice.

The aged editor scratched his scalp with a pencil.“Ladies, ladies,” he said, trying to defuse the situation.

“Look, I can’t work like this,” said Odelia. “This is not the kind of behavior I expected from a colleague.”

“At least I’ve got my priorities straight,” said Kimberly. “The paper always comes first.”

“Oh, please,” said Odelia. “You have no idea what’s going on here—no idea at all.”

“I think you’re the one who’s floating around in space, completely untethered from reality,” her young colleague countered. “You still think Rose Wimmer is innocent, don’t you? Pretty little innocent Rose. Well let me break the news to you, Odelia. She’s not. Your little friend is a cold-blooded vicious killer who’s murdered twice now, and we owe it to the public to make sure that they know all about it.”

“Dan?” said Odelia. “Say something.”

“Um…” said Dan, clearly out of his depth.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Odelia, and said, “You know what? It’s obvious to me that you want my job. Well, you can have it.”

“No, but…” said Kimberly, frowning.

Odelia then turned to Dan.“I quit!”

“Wait, what?” said Dan, his eyes widening.

“Odelia, I didn’t mean to…” Kimberly began.

“Yes, you did,” said Odelia, and stalked out, then slammed the door—hard.

It was only when she’d stepped out of the office and was out on the street that she realized what she’d just done.

She’d quit her job!

Chapter 29

It took us a while to find Odelia but we finally found her in the park, sitting on a bench, and looking a little shell-shocked.

“What happened?” I asked. “We dropped by the office but you weren’t there. Dan looked like a bomb had just dropped on his head.”

“I quit,” she said. “I quit my job, you guys, and now I don’t know what to do.”

“But why?” I asked. “I thought you liked that job.”

“I do. But Kimberly stole my article, and then she accused me of neglecting my duties to the Gazette and instead going off gallivanting around town trying to save Rose, even though she’s obviously guilty. And Dan, instead of standing up for me, seemed to take Kimberley’s side, so I told him Iquit.”

“Kimberly stole your scoop?”

“She did. She knew I was working on that article on Dino Wimmer’s death and she purposely went into the precinct to interview officers connected to the case and wrote the story. And Dan hadn’t even noticed! Or seemed to care,” she added with a touch of bitterness.

“I’m sure that if you just talk things through with Dan…”

“I’m never speaking to that man again,” she said. “He’s chosen his side. He’s got Kimberly now. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

I smiled. She looked so much like a kicked puppy I would have stroked her head if I’d been a little taller.

“So who’s going to pay the bills from now on?” asked Dooley.

“I’ll pay the bills,” said Odelia. “I’ll find another job.” She sighed. “Though frankly I’m not sure what job that would be. The Gazette is the only paper in town, and I don’t feel like moving away from Hampton Cove.”

“You can always become a cop,” Dooley suggested. “Chase is a cop, and your uncle is a cop, so I’m sure they’ll give you a job if you ask nicely.”

“It’s not that simple, Dooley. To be a cop you have to pass through police academy, and even then it’s not guaranteed I’d be able to get a job in town. As far as I know they’ve got a full roster here and aren’t looking for new recruits.”

“You could be a private detective,” he suggested next. “You’re very good at that, and I’m sure plenty of people would love to hire you. And maybe they’ll even pay you.”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Look, I’ve got something important to tell you,” I said, deciding that the topic of Odelia’s recent unemployment was perhaps best put on the back burner for now. There were more important and especially more urgent matters to take into consideration right now. “I think I may have figuredout who killed Dino Wimmer,” I said. “It came to me in a flash last night. And I think I just might be right about this.”

Odelia stared at me in surprise.“You know who killed Dino Wimmer?”

“Well, I have a theory. It probably needs testing, though.”

“Tell me all about it,” she said, and so I did.

When I’d finished laying it all out to her, she was nodding thoughtfully. “I see what you mean about testing your theory, Max. And I think I know just how to go about that. The only problem is that it would require the assistance of a man I’ve just antagonized.”

I gave her a questioning look, but before she could tell me more, a sudden scream rent the air, and when we both looked in the direction of the scream, I saw that it had originated from a little girl, who now stood crying as she pointed an accusing finger at… Dooley!

Odelia and I hurried over, and soon we were joined by the girl’s mom. She picked up a plastic ball from the ground and examined it. Then she said, with a dark look at Odelia, “Is this cat yours?”

“Yes, he is,” said Odelia. “What did he do?”

The woman held out the ball, which was a nice shiny pink.“He punctured my daughter’s ball. See? It’s full of holes!”

“Oh, Dooley,” I said. “What did you do now?”

“I just wanted to help, Max!” said my friend. “That little girl’s ball had rolled underneath that bench over there so I decided to get it for her.” He gave me a shamefaced look. “I must have dug in my nails a little too deep when I grabbed it.”

“What are you going to do about this?” asked the woman, still brandishing the ball.

“I’ll pay for it, of course,” said Odelia dutifully. “Unless it can be fixed?”

“I don’t think so,” said the woman, still irate while her daughter was crying her heart out and screaming, “My ball! That pussycat broke my ball!”

“Oh, Dooley, Dooley,” I said as we let Odelia deal with the case of the punctured ball and retreated back to the relative safety of our bench.

“I just wanted to do my good deed of the day, Max,” he said. “I haven’t done my good deed yet and I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do any more good deeds without asking me first?”

“I know, but you were so busy talking to Odelia and here was this great opportunity to put my good for the day in so…” He looked really crushed, and I took heart.

“It’s all right, Dooley. It’s just a ball. It’s not the end of the world.”

“But look at that little girl, Max. She’s so sad. I wanted to make her happy and I made her unhappy. Instead of doing a good deed I did a bad deed. Now I’ll have to do two good deeds today. One to make up for this bad deed, and my regular good deed of the day.” He paused. “Or maybe I needto do more than one good deed to make up for this bad deed.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Dooley,” I said, slightly alarmed.

“Maybe I need to do ten good deeds to make up for one bad deed,” he said with spurious logic. “Oh, I really did it now, didn’t I, Max?”

“Please don’t do ten good deeds, Dooley,” I implored.

“Eleven,” he said. “Ten to make up for what I did to that ball and my regular good deed of the day.”

“You know what? Maybe you don’t have to be a cub scout. Maybe you can join some other club,” I suggested, seeing a future stretching before me littered with disaster after disaster. Because if all of Dooley’s good deeds kept backfiring like this soon he’d have to do hundreds of good deedsto compensate for the dozens he bungled. And there simply weren’t enough hours in the day.

“What other club were you thinking of, Max?” he asked, curious.

“Well, Odelia’s detective club, for one thing. If she’s out of a job, and takes your advice to start a detective agency, she’s going to need assistants who help her become the best detective Hampton Cove has ever seen. And that means you and I are going to be very busy indeed.”

His furry face lit up.“You really think so? She would hire us as her assistants?”

“Well, not hire us, per se,” I prevaricated. “But she would need our help for sure.”

“You know, Max, catching killers and making sure that they’re put behind bars is the best deed possible.”

“Oh, absolutely. In fact I think catching a single killer probably earns you brownie points commensurate with at least a hundred good deeds, so there’s that to consider.”

“I have no idea what you just said, Max, but it sounds good,” he said, having cheered up considerably. He glanced over to where Odelia was still negotiating with the little girl’s mother about compensation for the ball Dooley inadvertently destroyed. “Now all we have to do is convince Odelia to launch a detective agency.”

Chapter 30

It’s always tough for anyone to have to swallow their pride, and it was especially tough for our human now to swallow hers. Unfortunately that couldn’t be helped, at least not if Odelia wanted to keep her client from being sent to prison for a crime—or in fact two crimes at the last count—she didn’t commit. Rose was eighteen, so if convicted she would go to a regular prison as far as I knew, and not to some juvenile detention center, though I doubt whether those are any less disagreeable than a regular penitentiary.

And so it was that Odelia placed the call, and much to my relief I quickly saw a smile spread across her features, and by the time she ended the call, she was actually glowing.

“He’ll be here soon,” she announced. “And he apologized. Said things suddenly moved so quickly back there that he had a hard time keeping up.”

Soon wasn’t an understatement, as a mere two minutes after Odelia had placed the call, Dan Goory came hurrying up. His long white beard was flapping in the wind, and his eyes were darting to and fro trying to detect his former star reporter. When he spotted her, his face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he quickly wended his way over to where we were all sitting.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Odelia suggested, and that’s what we did.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of Dan’s mouth. “I didn’t realize Kimberly had hogged your scoop. Frankly it’s a little shocking to me that she would do such a thing, which is what I was still coming to terms with when you told me what happened and which made me respond inadequately.”

“It’s fine,” said Odelia warmly. “Her actions took me by surprise, too. I’d never have expected anyone to behave in such an unprofessional and disrespectful way so I was a little shocked when I read that article under her byline.”

“She’s gone, you know,” said Dan.

“Gone? You mean…”

“She quit on me just now. Looks like she’s been playing us both for fools, Odelia. Though me most of all, I guess. She’s got an uncle who works for the New York Post, and she’d been trying to get him to usher her in but he was stalling, probably figuring she was a little wet behind the ears. So this piece she wrote—the scoop she stole from you—is what finally convinced the uncle to give her a shot at the Post. The only reason she took the job at the Gazette was to make an impression on her uncle. Basically I paid for her job application. She never had any intention to stick around.”

“I’m sorry, Dan.”

“Yeah, so am I. I should have known it was too good to be true. Looks like my plans to expand the Gazette across the region will have to be postponed for the time being.” He placed an arm around Odelia’s shoulder. “It’s just you and me, kiddo—like it’s always been.” He gave her an uncertain look. “Unless your resignation still stands. Cause in that case I think I might just have to fold. I can’t possibly run the Gazette all by my lonesome. I may be a sprightly old geezer, but I’m not as sprightly as all that.”

“Of course I’ll stay,” said Odelia.

Dan pumped the air with his fist.“Yesss,” he said, earning himself a smile from Odelia.

“Max!” said Dooley. “She’s not going to open a detective agency!”

“Doesn’t matter, Dooley,” I said. “She’ll still need us to be her eyes and ears, detective or no detective.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. Odelia needs us just like Dan needs her.”

“You mean like a sympathetic relationship?”

“I think you mean a symbiotic relationship, and yeah, something like that.”

“Look, Dan, I think we may have just solved Dino Wimmer’s murder,” Odelia said now. “And Jared Zmuda’s.”

“We?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

We’d reached the boardwalk and were now enjoying a brisk stroll along the beach. The sun was out in full force, and warmed the world below to such an extent people were actually removing their sweaters and rolling up their shirtsleeves.

“I think you know what I mean,” said Odelia.

“Yeah, I do,” said Dan with a quick glance down at Dooley and me. He even gave us a wink.

“Max!” said Dooley. “I think he knows!”

“I think Dan has always known, Dooley,” I said. “Just one of those things that’s never talked about but quietly understood.”

“So what do you want me to do?” asked Dan.

“Is your nephew still in town?”

“Yeah. Trudy and Jasper are staying at my place. They’re leaving on Monday.”

“I’m going to need Jasper to do me a big favor.”

“Anything.”

And as Odelia explained the nature of this favor, I could tell that her plan was going to work out beautifully. And this time there would be no Kimberly to steal her scoop, or ruin her carefully laid-out plans.

Chapter 31

“I don’t get it,” Harriet said not for the first time. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Just you wait and see,” I told her.

“This better be good,” Brutus grumbled. “I skipped a meal for this nonsense.”

“Oh, it will be good,” I said. Or at least I hoped it would be.

“It’s going to be a very big good deed,” Dooley announced. “In fact it will be a good deed so big it will be the equivalent of a thousand small good deeds, which would make me the winner of the Good Deed of the Year contest.”

“Is there a Good Deed of the Year contest?” I asked, surprised.

“I’m sure there is. It’s awarded at the same time as the Cub Scout of the Year award. And I’m sure that this year I’m going to win both awards.”

“Like we’ve all explained to you about a million times already, Dooley,” said Harriet, “only humans can be cub scouts.”

“But why would they call them cubs?” Dooley asked. “A human can’t possibly be a cub. It’s a contradiction of worms.”

“It might be a contradiction interms but that doesn’t mean it isn’t so,” I said. “And now could you all please be quiet. The show is about to start.”

“This better be good,” Brutus grumbled again.

We were all seated in the backyard of Grace Ojala, Daphne Wimmer’s good friend and fellow Avon lady, staring intently through the window into the woman’s living room. You would have thought that Grace would have noticed four cats staring into the house but we made sure only our heads were visible, and even then were ready to duck back down in case she glanced in our direction.

As it was, though, she appeared far too busy checking her phone to notice the feline contingency watching her every move.

Suddenly we could hear the sound of the doorbell and Mrs. Ojala practically jumped a foot in the air.

“Jumpy, isn’t she?” said Harriet, darting a curious look in my direction.

“Yeah, she is,” I confirmed.

The woman quickly got up and hurried to open the door, and moments later we watched as Daphne Wimmer walked in, looking visibly perturbed. Her face was flushed and her hair looked as if she’d been dragging her hands through it.

“You can’t do this, Grace,” said Daphne without preamble. “You’re supposed to be my friend!”

“Can’t do what?” asked Grace, clearly surprised by this outburst.

“This!” said Daphne, and brandished her phone in her friend’s face.

“I don’t understand,” said Grace.

“Your so-called confession! Why are you doing this to me, Grace? You know I was with Jared that night—I told you. I wasn’t anywhere near the house.”

“What are you talking about? What confession?”

“Oh, don’t act dumb with me!” Daphne cried, rounding on her friend. “I understand you want to have a clear conscience, but not at my expense!”

“But… I don’t understand!” Grace said.

“The video! The one you’ve sent to the cops—unless you haven’t sent it yet?” she added hopefully.

“What video? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“This video!” said Daphne, and started playing a video on her phone.

Grace stared at it, then said,“But… that isn’t me.”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me, Grace!” Daphne burst out. “Have you sent this video to the cops or not—it’s a simple question and I want a straight answer. Yes or no?”

“No! Of course I didn’t send any video to the police.”

Daphne seemed to relax a little at this. She planted her hands on her hips and said,“Really, Grace—I can understand your conscience suddenly acting up. What with Rose being arrested. But there’s no reason for you to talk to the police. Besides, you know what they’ll do to you, right? You lied to them. You falsely supplied me with an alibi for the night of Dino’s murder. You do know that lying to the police is a punishable offense, don’t you? You’ll go to prison.”

“But… I just told them what you told me to say,” said Grace, still staring at the video on her friend’s phone. “You said you spent the night with Jared, and I believed you. You asked me to say that you were here and I did. To protect your reputation and your relationship with Rose.”

“Good. Fine. Then we understand each other.” Daphne wagged a menacing finger in Grace’s face. “So not a word from you. Not a peep. And no more video confessions!”

“I don’t understand this,” Grace lamented, gesturing with the phone. “I never made this video. I swear, Daphne. I didn’t!”

Daphne gave her friend a strange look.“You know, it just dawned on me that you’re the only person in the world who can still make trouble for me. The only one.”

Grace simply looked at her friend, her mouth opening and closing.

“You haven’t been very happy lately, have you, Grace? In fact when the police ask me I’d have to say you’ve been feeling really low.”

“But, Daphne!”

Suddenly Mrs. Wimmer spirited a small gun into her hand. We all stared at it in horror and shock, and so did Grace. She stumbled back and her legs hit the couch and she fell backward, still staring at that gun, a horrified expression on her face.

“You and I are going upstairs,” said Daphne, a dreadful coldness having come into her voice. “You’re going to take a bath now. A nice warm bath. Soothing to the nerves.”

“What are you doing?” said Grace, still staring at her friend as if not believing what was happening.

“Don’t worry, honey. This won’t be painful. Not painful at all. I’ll handle the razor.”

Grace’s eyes went wide. “Razor?! What—why are you doing this, Daphne?!”

“Because I can’t risk your conscience having any more of these lapses,” said Daphne, holding up her phone.

“But I’m telling you—that wasn’t me!”

Daphne gave her friend a wintry smile.“Oh, Grace. You’re just making this easier for me. If you’d simply told me the truth, I might have let you off the hook. But you leave me no choice. It’s obvious I can’t trust you anymore. And now up you go. Up!”

But before Grace could respond, suddenly the door to the living room burst open, and both Chase and Uncle Alec appeared.

“Put the gun down, Daphne!” Chase boomed, covering the woman with a gun of his own, which was a great deal larger than the small handgun the woman was holding.

Daphne yelped in surprise, and promptly dropped the gun to the floor.

Moments later it was all over. Daphne had been duly read her rights and arrested, and Uncle Alec was patting Grace’s hand and consoling the visibly stricken woman.

“That didn’t exactly go as planned,” I said, and only now noticed I’d been holding my breath for those last extremely tense moments.

“And now you’re going to tell me everything, Max,” said Harriet.

“And me,” said Brutus.

“Well, it all started with a smoothie,” I said.

Epilogue

“So… Daphne Wimmer killed her husband?” asked Harriet.

“And Jared Zmuda,” I said.

“Who would have thought?” said Brutus.

“Max would,” said Dooley proudly.

The four of us were seated on the porch swing, while our humans were enjoying a nice barbecue in Marge and Tex’s backyard. Uncle Alec was manning the grill for a change. The big guy likes to eat, and has in the past been frustrated by his brother-in-law Tex’s poor performance as a grill master to such an extent that he’d finally decided to take the process of food prep into his own hands.

And I must say he was doing a pretty good job. So far I’d only eaten a piece of steak, but it had been both firm and tender, tasty but not overcooked, spicy but not overly so. In other words, exactly the way I like it.

“Oh, don’t keep me in suspense,” said Harriet. “Just tell me how you figured out it was Daphne.”

“Tellus,” Brutus said.

“Whatever!”

“Well, it was the smoothie that finally decided me,” I revealed.

“Smoothie? Max, will you just speak plain language for a change?” Harriet lamented. She obviously wasn’t happy I’d cracked the case before she did, and even now, when Daphne was languishing in a holding cell awaiting processing by the justice system, she hadn’t figured it out yet, which clearly irked her to a great degree.

“You’ll remember that when we first arrived at the house the kitchen was immaculate,” I said, launching into my spiel.

“No, I wouldn’t remember because I wasn’t there,” said Harriet, sounding peeved, “because Odelia didn’t bother to involve us.”

“Well, the kitchen was squeaky clean, all the dishes washed, and when Odelia opened the dishwasher she found a blender beaker and the rest of the smoothie-making paraphernalia all nicely washed. And then later when Gran and Scarlett talked with the housekeeper she happened to mention how father and daughter were both cut from the same cloth, namely that they both adored takeout and also that they were slobs, and that whenever Daphne was away for the weekend on one of her Avon things the house was always a mess. This time the place was immaculate, though. Obviously somebody had cleaned that kitchen.”

“You mean Dino and Rose had ordered takeout and watched a movie like they always did?” asked Dooley.

“No, because father and daughter weren’t on speaking terms, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“Rose had locked herself up in her room, while Dino spent the evening in his office downstairs. The thing is—would a man who loves takeout prepare himself a smoothie if he can avoid it? I don’t think so.”

“Uh-huh,” said Harriet. “Go on.”

“And then another thing that struck me was that Daphne expressed surprise that Rose was home. You’ll remember that when she came home after being called by her stepdaughter she said she’d figured Rose would spend the night with her boyfriend Cole. She was genuinely surprised, and now we know why.”

“Because Rose could have easily walked in on her that night,” said Harriet, nodding.

“Exactly.”

“So Daphne didn’t stay with her friend Grace?” asked Brutus.

“Oh, yes, she did, but she left at some point, telling Grace she had a hot date with Jared Zmuda.”

“A hot date!” Brutus exclaimed.

“Daphne was having an affair with the fitness club owner, which was one of the reasons she wanted to get rid of her husband. The other reason was money. She and Dino had signed a prenup when they got married. It stipulated that in case of divorce both parties would leave with just the assets theybrought into the marriage. In case one of them died, however, the other party inherited everything. So that night she hurried home, parked her car—”

“Where it was seen by Mrs. Bird,” Harriet supplied helpfully.

“But what if Mrs. Bird had seen her enter the house?” asked Brutus.

“Or leave it?” Harriet added.

“Daphne was careful to park two doors down. And she didn’t go in through the front door but snuck around the back for this exact reason: because she knew Mrs. Bird was a nosy parker. Daphne had also put on a scarf, and borrowed one of Grace’s coats.”

“How did she kill her husband?” asked Brutus.

“She made him a smoothie. Daphne was the health freak in the family, which is why she started going to the fitness club where she met Jared. Her husband wasn’t into smoothies but he reluctantly drank them when she made them. But this time he would have done well to stay away from the concoction, as it was loaded with crushed-up sleeping pills. He must have immediately fallen into a coma, then died at some point while his wife was cleaning the kitchen, removing any trace she’d prepared the toxic brew, then setting the scene in Dino’s office and placing the suicide note she’d written.”

“So Rose could have walked in on her at any point during this?” asked Harriet.

“Which is why Daphne was so shocked when she discovered Rose had been home all the time. Rose and her boyfriend had had another one of their occasional lovers’ tiffs, and even though she was supposed to stay the night she’d decided to stay home instead.”

“So what about Jared Zmuda?” asked Brutus.

“Jared knew all about the murder, and Jared was also very ambitious. He wanted to open a chain of clubs. And he needed money. A lot of money. So at some point he decided to squeeze Daphne for a big chunk of change. Now that she was going to inherit he wanted his cut. Daphne realized he’d becomea liability so she decided to get rid of him.”

“And blame her stepdaughter?” asked Harriet, horrified.

I nodded.“Daphne may have faked affection for Dino’s daughter but she’d never been all that fond of the teenager. So she decided to kill two birds with one stone: get rid of Jaredand Rose. So she fabricated those Google searches on Rose’s computer, and used a pair of wire cutters Rose had used for a school project to sabotage Jared’s weightlifting equipment then sent a text from Jared’s phone to Rose to meet him.”

“How did she know what machine Jared was going to use?” asked Harriet.

“She was there,” I said. “She picked the machine and asked Jared to demonstrate it for her. And since Jared was something of a macho he immediately accepted the challenge.”

“And in doing so signed his death warrant,” said Harriet, nodding.

“What a cold-blooded killer,” said Brutus.

“She’s going to have to do a lot of good deeds to make up for what she did,” said Dooley. He then offered Brutus a piece of fish. “Do you want this, Brutus?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Brutus with a look of surprise. “Now this is the kind of good deed you can do as much as you want, Dooley,” he added as he gobbled up the tasty treat.

“I know,” said Dooley. “Max has told me to limit my good deeds to feeding others so from now on I’ll do just that. Do you want some more fish, Harriet?” he asked.

“That’s very kind of you, Dooley,” said Harriet as she accepted the offer with a smile.

Immediately, though, both Brutus and Harriet started choking.“You didn’t remove the bones!” said Brutus as he upchucked his piece of fish, soon followed by Harriet.

Dooley slapped his brow.“I knew I’d forgotten something!”

“Oh, Dooley,” I said, shaking my head.

“So are you still a reporter now?” asked Marge as she ladled some more potato salad onto her mom’s plate.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll always be a reporter. It’s the job I know and like best, after all.”

“And this girl, this Kimberly? She’s gone for good?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll ever see her around again,” Odelia said.

“Good riddance,” Gran grunted as she cut into a fat sausage and took a tentative nibble then gave her son two thumbs up. “You gotta try these sausages,” she told her friend Scarlett. “They’re to die for.”

Scarlett shivered.“Don’t talk like that, Vesta. You’ll jinx the sausages.”

“I’m not jinxing anything. Just telling you they’re really good.”

“How is Rose?” asked Marge.

“Remarkably well, actually,” said Odelia. “She took the death of her dad pretty hard.”

“And the fact that her stepmom was the killer,” Chase added.

“But last time I spoke to her she sounded okay. Her boyfriend moved in with her.”

“Is that still happening?” asked Gran.

“Yeah, looks like the events of the past couple of days have brought those two closer together. I think they’ll be fine.”

“Tastes pretty great, huh, Tex?” said Gran, really rubbing it in now.

“I’ve tasted better,” said Tex tersely.

“No, you haven’t.”

Tex shrugged and sat back, refusing to touch his food. If he wasn’t going to be allowed near his own grill anymore, he wasn’t eating.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” said Gran. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”

But Tex shook his head.“No.”

“Oh, honey, just take a bite,” said Marge. “Go on. It really is pretty tasty.” She placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “I mean, obviously not as tasty as when you make it, but it’s not so bad. Isn’t that right, Alec?”

The Chief magnanimously said,“I’m not a grill master like Tex but I do my best.”

“In that case,” said Tex, slightly mollified as he scooted forward again in his chair, “maybe I will take a tiny nibble. Just a taste, mind you.”

And before our very eyes, he wolfed down an entire plate in record time.

“Looks like Tex was really hungry,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, looks like,” I agreed.

“You really outdid yourself this time, Max,” said Harriet, extending a rare compliment. “You solved this case and in doing so saved Rose’s life.”

“The only thing I didn’t bargain for was that Daphne would try to kill her friend. Good thing Chase and Uncle Alec were listening in.”

“They’d bugged her house,” Dooley explained. “Which doesn’t mean that they put a lot of bugs in Grace’s house but that they put it full of very small listening devices.”

“Yeah, they were right outside, listening in the whole time,” I said.

“Amazing work, Odelia,” said Scarlett. “But you have to explain how this deepfake technology works, exactly. I mean, can they really use anyone’s likeness and make them do what they want?”

“Pretty much,” said Odelia. “Dan’s nephew told us he once made a video where his mom was holding a drunken speech and sent it to his dad. He thought it was real and was ready to launch into a long diatribe about the dangers of alcohol.” She grinned. “So when we made that video of Grace confessing that Daphne had left the house that night, Daphne accepted it as real.”

“And walked straight into your trap,” said Chase. “Nicely done, babe.” The cop looked a little rueful. “If only I’d known sooner we would never have arrested Rose—poor kid.”

“Yeah, first her dad is murdered and then she’s falsely arrested,” said Gran, directing an accusatory look at her son.

Uncle Alec shrugged.“Cops have to follow the evidence, Ma. That’s just the way it is.”

“Cops also have to use their brains,” she admonished him.

“Good thing Max has a good brain on him, then,” said Scarlett, and raised her glass in a salute… to me!

And before I realized what was happening, all the humans were raising their glasses, and Odelia said,“Great job, Max. Well done.”

“Oh, you guys,” I said, and I think I was blushing, though of course nobody could tell. Underneath that nice blorange fur of mine, though, I had a feeling I was red as a tomato.

“You won this round, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus.

“Yeah, you solved this case, Max,” said Harriet, “but the next one is for us. Isn’t that right, snookums?”

“Absolutely, snuggle pooh,” Brutus grunted.

Just then, Charlene Butterwick came hurrying up.“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, panting a little. Mayor Butterwick was dressed in a nice pantsuit, and looked like she’d come down straight from her office. “Some idiot glued a bunch of leaves to my car’s windshield. Took me ages to peel them off!”

“I thought it was soap,” Dooley muttered next to me.

“Oh, Dooley, not again!” Harriet cried.

“It looked like soap.”

“Probably tree sap,” I said. “Charlene’s car is usually parked underneath those elm trees, isn’t it? Those trees have been losing a lot of sap, dripping all over those cars.”

Dooley nodded.“I know how I promised to do no more good deeds, but when I saw her car standing there, the windshield covered with leaves, I simply couldn’t resist. So I started wiping them away, then figured I might as well use those leaves to clean her windshield, but then they all got stuck on there.” Heheaved a deep sigh. “I’m not cut out to be a cub scout, Max. I’m really not.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” said Harriet. “Cubs scouts are for humans only!”

Brutus, though, was laughing—in fact he was laughing so hard his belly was shaking.

Dooley smiled.“At least Brutus seems to enjoy my good deeds,” he said.

“It’s just too funny!” said Brutus, tears running down his furry cheeks.

Dooley’s face suddenly lit up. “I’ve got it! That’s what I should be! A comedian!”

“No, Dooley,” I said, shaking my head.

“Making people laugh is my thing!”

“No, no,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes, Max. I’ll be the greatest cat comedian that ever lived. I’ll have them rolling in the aisles!”

“Oh, please stop,” said Brutus, laughing and clutching his stomach.

“I’ll do standup!”

“Oh, God!” said Brutus.

“And stand-down!”

“Please!”

Even I had to laugh at this point, and Harriet cracked a smile. Before long, we were a rollicking, frolicking foursome, the porch swing rocking to and fro as we slapped our thighs. Dooley might make a terrible cub scout, but I had to hand it to him: he did have a talent for making us laugh. And as a wise cat once said: laughter is the best medicine.

But the best part? No more good deeds from now on. Yesss!