e8cf697896e365441c22e98649d515d0

“Is there anyone who can confirm that?”

“Actually, there is. Kirsten was home. She can confirm my alibi,” said Annette.

“Kirsten was probably asleep in her bed,” said Gran, not giving up so easily. “And so if you slipped out in the middle of the night—let’s say between two and three—she probably wouldn’t have heard you leave. Especially if you parked your car down the road, where she wouldn’t hear you start it.”

The two women faced off for a moment, but then Annette emitted a nervous laugh.“You think of everything, don’t you, Mrs. Muffin? Got all your bases covered. Well, what can I say? I’m not a killer. I didn’t murder Henry. But if you think I did, I guess there’s nothing I can do to change your mind.”

“No, I guess there isn’t,” said Gran, as she studied the woman closely. “Well, anyway, maybe he wasn’t murdered. Maybe his heart stopped. And so maybe you just got lucky.”

“Or maybe I was wrong about the man,” said Annette quietly as she glanced to her daughter, who walked out of a room now, smiling over her shoulder to its resident. “Maybe he wasn’t the monster I thought he was, and I misread the whole situation. Kirsten is a smart girl, you know. And if shesays Henry was a good person…” She shrugged. “Oh, heck. I really don’t know anymore. It’s all very confusing.”

“But you’re still happy he’s dead, aren’t you?”

Annette turned a fiery gaze on Gran.“You’re a very annoying person, has anyone ever told you that?”

“All the time,” said Gran with a happy grin.

29

The task of following around the rest of Murder Club had fallen on Harriet and Brutus. And since they took their assignments seriously, they stuck to Liz, Olivia and Bill like glue. The first person the trio decided to interview was Bob Sankiewicz, and since Bill and Bob were good friends, he had taken it upon himself to do the honors. Unfortunately before Harriet noticed, Liz and Olivia had drifted off, presumably to interview other suspects. But since they didn’t feel like splitting up the team, they decided to stick to Bill for the time being.

“Okay, so I don’t know if you’ve heard, Bob, but Henry died last night,” said Bill, opening proceedings. They were seated in that cozy nook at the end of the corridor, which was one of the favorite places in the building, where a lot of the residents liked to flock for a pleasant chat with the other residents. The other most popular place was the cafeteria, of course, but that was only during meal times, and at four o’clock, when coffee and cake was being served.

“Yeah, I heard about it,” said Bob. “I saw the hullabaloo, of course, but just figured someone was suffering some medical issues. Little did I know that it was actually Henry, and that he had died.”

“Okay, so you know how Liz and Olivia and I have formed this murder club, right?”

A slight smile played about Bob’s lips. “Sure I know. You’ve asked me to join you guys plenty of times, remember?”

“That’s true,” said Bill. “I forgot about that. Okay, now since we’re not entirely sure if what happened to Henry was natural causes, or, you know, foul play, we’ve decided to assist the police with their inquires—if there are going to be inquiries, of course.”

“Oh, I’ll bet there will be inquiries,” said Bob, his faint smile having turned into a grin now. “At least if it’s up to you and your wife.”

“Well, that may or may not be true,” said Bill, who had opened his little notebook and was licking at his little pencil. “Okay, so now if I were to ask you where you were last night, let’s say between two and three, what would you say, Bob?”

“I would say that I was either asleep in bed dreaming of going to the bathroom, or actually going to the bathroom, since the old bladder isn’t what it used to be, and it has me up at least five times a night lately.”

“Okay, so…” Bill frowned. “Um…”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I killed Henry?”

“I was working my way up to that, but now that you mention it… Did you kill Henry, Bob?”

“No, I did not. And now I have a question for you, Bill.”

“You have?”

“Sure. Now why would you think I killed Henry?

“Oh, that’s easy. Because he kept pestering you about that damn book he wanted you to write.”

“Now when did anyone ever kill another person because they wanted them to write a book, Bill?”

Now it was Bill’s turn to smile. It was an indulgent smile, the kind of smile an expert would give a layperson who clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “People kill other people for all kinds of reasons, Bob,” he said. “And the weirdest ones first. So refusing to write a book isn’t so bad as motives go, you know. Henry kept bugging you, you kept saying no, and at the end of the day you figured you might as well get rid of the guy, since he never seemed to be going to stop.”

“Now that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Kill a man over such a trifle?”

“It happens,” said Bill, nodding seriously.

“It does?”

“Oh, you bet it does. All the time.”

“So people are being murdered by their would-be biographers all the time?”

“All. The. Time.”

“You’re full of crap, Bill.”

Bill grinned.“Be that as it may, how likely is it that you’re the killer, Bob? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero,” said Bob, and burst out laughing. “You’re really something else, aren’t you, Bill? Now let me ask you another question. How likely is it that Henry was actually murdered, would you say? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten,” said Bill, with full conviction. “No doubt about it.”

“Well, see, that’s where we differ in opinion,” said Bob. “Cause I think he simply died of a heart attack. It happens, Bill. I know you don’t like it, but it happens more often than you think. Probably even more than being murdered by a biographer.”

“Very funny,” said Bill, and closed his notebook, the interview at an end.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Liz hadn’t actually conducted an interview before, but since once had to be the first time, she stole down the stairs in search of Charlie Moore, who was rumored to be cleaning the cafeteria. And her informant hadn’t lied: there he was, listening to some kind of music on his wireless earbuds and sweeping the floor, which in his case meant that he was moving the mop around in a sort of desultory fashion, and sloshing dirty water on a floor that kept getting more and more dirty with every sweep of his mop.

She cleared her throat and held her notebook at the ready.“Charlie?” she asked, trying to attract the young man’s attention. “Um, Charlie? Could I have a word, please, Charlie?”

Finally Charlie deigned to remove his earbuds and stared at her, none too friendly.“What?” he asked curtly.

“Well, the thing is, see,” she began. “The thing is that Henry—I don’t know if you know this, but Henry Kaur? Well, he died, see. And now we’re trying—we, that’s Bill, of course, my husband, and Olivia, that’s my sister, and now also Janelle and Janette Corr, who recently joined up, we’re trying to find out what happened. And so we’re talking to people, witnesses, you see—like you—to try and figure out what might have caused Henry to, you know, die.” When he didn’t respond, she took a deep breath and went on, “So where were you last night between two and three,Charlie?”

Charlie cracked a smile. It wasn’t a nice smile, nor a friendly encouraging one. It wasn’t the kind of smile that said, ‘Go on, dear sweet lady. Ask me all the questions you want, and I’ll answer them as truthfully as I can.’ No, it was more a smile that said, ‘You stupid cow. Why are you wasting my time with this load of nonsense?’

“You’re actually asking me if I killed old Henry? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Oh, no! Well, yes, maybe. It’s just that…” She swallowed with some difficulty, for the kid was really staring at her, and there was something very disconcerting in that stare. “The thing is that we think he was murdered, you see, and so now we’re trying to find out if—”

“I didn’t kill him, all right? I liked the old geezer. He was all right.”

“But you were having arguments with him all the time,” she pointed out. “You were always fighting, and yelling at him. And he was yelling at you.”

“So? Friends yell at each other. I’ll bet that you and your husband, you yell at each other from time to time, don’t you? That doesn’t mean you want to kill each other, now does it? So yeah, Henry and I used to fight, but that didn’t mean anything. Just friendly banter, you know. Joshing.That’s the way we rolled, Henry and me.”

“Okay,” she said, and noticed how she hadn’t written anything in her notebook yet. Which was probably because he hadn’t actually answered her question. “So can you please tell me where you were last night? Between two and three, for instance?”

“I was in bed with my girlfriend.”

“Asleep, probably?”

“No, as a matter of fact we were doing other things,” he said, and gave her a nasty grin. “And before you ask, we were doing the kind of things you and Bill used to do about a hundred years ago? In fact it’s such a long time ago you probably don’t even remember. And now please get off my back. I’ve got better things to do than to stand around here answering your stupid questions.”

And with this, he demonstratively put his earbuds back in and got back to work.

“Oh,” she said in a feeble voice. “Oh, that’s so rude!”

But the kid had stopped paying attention.

30

Olivia had been assigned the arduous task of trying to interview Kate Doyle. She was, after all, a suspect, even though Olivia didn’t think she’d be able to get a lot out of the woman. Still, if Liz said Kate needed to be interviewed, she needed to be interviewed. Olivia knew better than to argue with her sister, who had always been the smartest of the two sisters.

“Okay, Kate,” she said as she tried to attract the woman’s attention. “So last night, do you remember what you did?” She didn’t want to start with a leading question like ‘Did you go into Henry’s room last night and smother him with a pillow?’ If Kate said yes, that wouldn’t exactly tell them a lot.

Kate beamed at her visitor.“You have such lovely hair, miss. Who does your hair?”

“Please focus, Kate,” said Olivia. “Did you by any chance go into Henry’s room?” Slightly leading, but not too much.

“My girls all have lovely hair. But then I don’t allow them to come to class if they haven’t combed their hair and washed it properly. I think it’s very important to take care of your personal appearance and be a real lady, don’t you think… what did you say your name was, dear?”

“Olivia,” said Olivia. “So Kate, last night, can you remember what happened?”

Kate frowned at this.“Last night, did you say?”

A glimmer of hope surged in Olivia’s bosom. “Yes, that’s right. Last night.”

For a moment Kate seemed to think hard.“Last night,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Now let me see. Last night…” Then her face cleared. “Of course. How silly of me. Last night was Marjorie’s birthday. We made a cake together, and then we ate it in front of the television. It was a pink cake, with plenty of purple and yellow decorations. Those are Marjorie’s favorite colors, you see.”

Olivia suppressed a groan. Marjorie was Kate’s daughter, and one of her regular visitors. She wasn’t a little girl who loved pink cakes anymore, though, but a grown woman now.

“Okay, so apart from the cake, what else do you remember, Kate? Something to do with Henry?”

“Henry? I don’t know any Henry,” said Kate. “Although… I think I had a Henry in my class once. He was a very naughty boy. Pulled all of my girls’ hair all the time. I had to tell him to stop more than once. Yes, he was very naughty. Naughty Henry.”

“No, I’m not talking about that Henry. I’m talking about Henry Kaur?”

Kate stared at her for a moment, then shook her head decidedly.“Never met him. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for school. Can’t be late, you know. Principal Martens doesn’t like it when her teachers are late. And that goes for me, too.”

She got up and shuffled into the bathroom, presumably to start getting ready for school.

And so Olivia decided to give up. If Kate had murdered Henry, chances are that she wouldn’t remember anyway. And if no one saw her do it, how were they ever going to prove it? Now let Liz choke on that one, she thought defiantly.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

The powers that be—in this case Liz Murphy—had assigned the hardest task to Scarlett. She was to interview Desmond, and frankly she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. She didn’t like Desmond—in fact nobody did—and now she had to try and find out if the man wasn’t just a big bully but also a murderer? Tough job!

But since she was a team player, and didn’t want to let Murder Club down, she went in search of the burly nursing aide, and soon found him outside, buffing his precious car.

“Hey, Desmond,” she said, injecting her voice with as much warmth and kindness as possible. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” the man grumbled as he studied a minute spot on his car.

“Bird poop, I’d say,” said Scarlett helpfully. “I’ve always heard that WD-40 does a great job in getting that off.”

“And what would you know about cars?”

He seemed even nastier than usual, she thought, and wondered why he was being so mean to her.

“I heard that Henry left you all of his possessions in his will?” she said, deciding to get straight to the heart of the matter. “I didn’t know you and him were such great pals?”

“We were,” said Desmond. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He looked up at her now. “You’re the one who’s been coaching Isaac to get into Kirsten’s panties, aren’t you? And how is that going?” He gave her an evil grin. “You’re something else, you know that? All of you ganging up on me. You and that sister of yours, and Isaac of course. And for what? Because you don’t think I’m good enough for your friend Kirsten? Huh? Well, I’ve got news for you, sister. Now that I’m rich, I don’t have to be nice to you anymore. I don’t have to grovel in front of any of you lot. Cause I’m telling Brian he can put his job where the sun don’t shine, and I’m out of here. Yeah, that’s right. I’m buying myself a nice condo in Miami, and it’s beach and margarita time for me. And Kirsten is going to wish she’d given me the time of day. But it’s too latenow, isn’t it? Even if she got down on her knees and begged me to take her with me, I’m not going to. And now get lost,” he said, and resumed the scrutiny of his car’s paint.

“Okay, that was a nice speech,” said Scarlett. “Only there’s one problem with that.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Kirsten isn’t going to be sorry to see the back of you, Desmond. In fact she’s going to rejoice. She’s going to be so happy that you’re gone she’s going to throw a party.”

“Oh, buzz off,” he grunted.

“Okay, so now that we’ve got that cleared up, can you tell me where you were last night? Let’s say between two and three?”

“I said buzz off!”

“Because that’s the time Henry was murdered. And since you’re the one who benefits the most from his death, I’d say you’re going to need a very strong alibi if you want to keep the police off your back, Desmond.”

“Murdered? What are you talking about? The doc said he died a natural death. I was there when he said it.”

“The coroner thinks otherwise,” Scarlett bluffed, tweaking the truth a little. “He’s doing a full autopsy right now, and he’s going to find out exactly how you killed that man. And the police will come knocking, and they’ll want to know how it’s possible that a nurse like you would inherit from a resident he wasn’t all that friendly with.”

“So let them come and ask their questions. I’ve got nothing to hide. And I certainly didn’t kill the guy. He died of natural causes. Heart failure, probably.”

“So where were you, Desmond?”

He directed a look at her so cold she shivered.“Last time I looked you weren’t a cop, so I don’t have to tell you anything. And now for the last time: get lost!”

And since he was taking a menacing step in her direction, she felt it wise to follow his advice this time, and get lost.

But as she walked away, she had the distinct impression that she had found Henry’s killer.

31

Now that the suspects had all been interviewed, the members of Murder Club met up again in their usual spot: at the end of the corridor near the window. One by one they reported about their interviews, and once the evidence was all in, the difficult part was how to make sense of it all.

“I don’t know how real detectives do this,” said Olivia. “It’s so hard to know what’s important and what’s not.”

“And to know who is lying and who’s telling the truth,” Bill added.

“What we need is a whiteboard,” said Liz. “Just like they have in any police precinct in the country.”

“I don’t think they actually use those whiteboards,” said Scarlett. “I mean, the real police don’t use them, only the police on television, to make it easier for the viewers to keep track of the investigation.”

“And I’m sure the real police use them all the time,” said Liz stubbornly.

“No, but Scarlett is right,” said Vesta. “The actual police don’t use those boards.”

“And how would you know?” Liz challenged her. “It’s not as if your son is a policeman, is he?” But when Vesta made to speak, she held up her hand. “Let’s not get sidelined here, people. Let’s focus on the investigation. So we have six suspects: Kirsten, Kirsten’s mom, Kate, Bob, Charlie, and Desmond. You’ve all heard their testimonies. So what do you think? Does anything stand out to you? Anyone seems more likely to have killed Henry? And what about alibis? Anything suspicious?”

“I think Desmond did it,” said Olivia. “I thought so from the beginning, and after what Scarlett just told us, I think the man is guilty.”

“He didn’t want to supply an alibi,” said Bill. “Which is very suspicious in my book. If he was innocent, he would have told her what he was up to last night. Plus, he’s going to be a very rich man now that Henry is dead. He told you himself, didn’t he? He’s going to lie on a beach and drink cocktails from now on.”

“True,” said Liz. “Desmond is a very likely suspect. But I thought Charlie was also acting very suspicious, not to mention extremely rude. He said some things that the rules of propriety won’t let me repeat, but let’s just say they made my skin crawl. And a man who can be that rude and that obnoxious is definitely capable of murder.”

“But what is his motive?” asked Vesta.

“Well, he strikes me as a very volatile individual. Aggressive and easily provoked. So Henry kept telling him that his cleaning wasn’t up to his standards, and finally Charlie must have snapped and decided to get rid of his tormentor once and for all.”

“What about his alibi?” asked Bill, sitting back and tapping his bottom lip with his pencil. He had a dark spot on that lip from where he’d been sucking it. “I mean, he said his girlfriend can confirm that he was with her. So what do we think about that?”

“We think that the girlfriend of a man like Charlie will do as he says, and if she doesn’t, she can expect him to get very upset with her—possibly even violent.”

“He does look like the kind of person who would beat his girlfriend,” Olivia agreed. “So Charlie and Desmond—not coincidentally both men.”

“Bob is also a man,” said Bill. “But after talking to the guy I don’t think he did it.”

“I agree,” said Liz. “Bob is a pussycat. He may not have liked Henry very much, but murder? I don’t think so.”

“I thought Annette had a good motive,” said Vesta. “Though after talking to her, I don’t think she did it. She wanted to protect her daughter, and we all know that women can become like tigresses defending their young, but Annette doesn’t have it in her to murder a person. And neither does Kirsten, for that matter. Too sweet-natured, both of them.”

“I think you’re right,” said Liz. “So what about Kate? Olivia?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Olivia. “But if she did it, she doesn’t remember a thing.”

“She did try to strangle me,” Vesta pointed out. “Simply because she thought I was an intruder. And she keeps trying to escape.”

“She doesn’t try to escape,” said Olivia, “as much as she’s trying to get to work. She lives in the past, and believes she’s still the schoolteacher she was before she retired twenty years ago.” She shrugged. “She doesn’t want to disappoint her students. And if you ask me if she killed Henry, I say I don’t know—but it wouldn’t surprise me if she did.”

“Okay, so Charlie, Desmond and Kate,” said Liz. “One of them killed Henry. Which one? We don’t know. And I think maybe the best thing to do under the circumstances, which are very serious, is to hand over the information we’ve collected to the proper authorities, and let them handle things from now on. They have the resources, and they have the experience, and they will figure out which one of our suspects is the actual murderer.”

“Or maybe they’ll find some third party,” Bill pointed out. “Someone could have broken into Henry’s room last night, for instance, or he could have died of natural causes, like the doctor said.”

“That doctor is an idiot,” said Liz with a touch of vehemence, showing how strongly she felt about the doctor’s conclusions. “No, Henry was murdered, all right. And we’ve got three excellent suspects who could have done it. Who actually did do it? We don’t know. And there’s absolutelyno shame in admitting that. We’ll let the police handle things from now on, and give them all the help we can.” She smiled at all those present. “Everyone in agreement, raise your hand.”

Unanimously, all hands were raised.

“Accepted by a full quorum,” said Liz, and added, “Meeting adjourned!” She then clapped her hands. “Well done, folks. For our first real case I think we did a great job.”

“We didn’t catch the killer,” Olivia pointed out.

“I know, but we did get awfully close,” said Liz. “And even though my money is still on Charlie, you have all taught me not to jump to conclusions, and I see now that the others are equally promising suspects. Maybe even more so.”

“It takes a great woman to admit she might be wrong,” said Bill. “Let’s put it there for Murder Club’s chairwoman. The one and only Liz Murphy!”

A not-so-spontaneous applause broke out, of which the instigator was clapping the loudest, much to his wife’s pleasure. Liz’s cheeks were a nice crimson, and she looked pleased as punch.

“I think we all did great,” she said. “Team effort, people, that’s what Murder Club is all about. And now let’s see what they have in store for us in the cafeteria.”

And so the meeting was adjourned. The conclusions were inconclusive, and even though a genuine effort had been made, we still weren’t closer to who the killer might be. Correction: we still didn’t even know whether Henry had been killed or not.

“Seems a little silly to conduct a murder inquiry when you don’t even know if a murder has been committed,” said Harriet, putting the finger on the sore point. “I mean, it’s a waste of time, isn’t it? First let Abe determine the cause of death, then conduct an investigation. It’s the proper way of doing things.”

“It’s true that this murder club seems to like to do things backward,” said Brutus.

“Oh, you guys,” I said. “They’re just a bunch of amateurs with too much time on their hands. So let them enjoy themselves by trying to solve a murder, even though we don’t know if it actually was a murder.”

“Murder is not something you try and solve for your enjoyment, Max,” said Harriet sternly. “Murder is serious business, and shouldn’t be left to amateurs like Liz and her cohorts.”

“But we’re also amateurs, aren’t we?” said Dooley. “And we’ve solved murders before. Murders that baffled the police.”

“Well, yes, that’s true,” Harriet conceded. “But that’s because we’re police cats, and we are very experienced. Liz and her husband and sister are rank amateurs of the worst kind. They have absolutely no experience whatsoever, and so they probably should leave well enough alone, before they mess up the real investigation.”

“You sound just like Uncle Alec,” said Dooley with a laugh. “He’s also saying all the time that we shouldn’t stick our noses where they don’t belong.”

“That’s because Uncle Alec has to say that. He’s the law, and he should discourage amateurs from getting involved in his investigations,” Harriet pointed out. “If not, every Tom, Dick and Harry would start snooping around, and making life very difficult for the actual detectives. Like Chase and Odelia.”

“Speaking of Chase and Odelia, I wonder what they’re up to,” said Brutus. “We haven’t heard a word from them since Henry’s body was discovered.” He turned to me. “You haven’t heard from them, have you, Max?”

I shook my head.“No idea what they’ve been doing,” I said. “Though it wouldn’t surprise me if they hadn’t made their own list of suspects by now, and are going to come barging in here to interrogate them—in an official capacity this time.”

“Well, let’s hope they don’t shut us out,” said Harriet. “I think after all we’ve suffered through, we deserve a seat at the table with the big boys.”

“Odelia isn’t a big boy, though, is she?” asked Dooley. “She’s a big girl.”

“Just a figure of speech, Dooley,” said Harriet. “And now let’s eat—I’m starving!”

32

That evening, Odelia and Chase finally gave a sign of life: they dropped by for a meeting with their spies. Once again they used backchannel diplomacy, or in other words: the window in Gran and Scarlett’s room.

“So did you get them?” asked Odelia as she stepped into the room.

“We’ve got them!” said Gran, and handed her granddaughter the cameras. “The footage is on this laptop,” she explained. “Which Scarlett’s great-nephew was so kind to set up for us.”

“And the footage is all right?”

“Better than all right,” said Gran. “The footage is great. Captures Brian in all his splendor and from every possible angle.” She cleared her throat. “It’s a little, shall we say, risqu?, though. So better not let this fall into the wrong hands.”

“So is it Brian and his secretary?” asked Chase as he accepted the laptop.

“It’s Brian and Dee, and also Brian and Gladys,” said Scarlett. “I don’t know how he does it, but the man has some stamina.” She sounded in awe of the general manager. “Also, as far as we could tell, Dee was upset with the guy. But he must have done some fast talking, for there she is, back in the game, as if nothing happened.”

“The footage was captured this morning and this afternoon,” Gran explained. “This morning Brian had a session scheduled with Dee, and then in the afternoon, when she was conveniently on her lunch break, Gladys Judder dropped by, and he had another session with Gladys. So do you think you’vegot enough now?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ve got plenty,” said Odelia, well pleased that her agents had done such an excellent job. “In fact I’d say that your job here is done, ladies. Sara will hand this footage to her lawyer, and since Henry died last night, Annette has told me she doesn’t need you guys hanging around here anymore.”

“I think Annette is a little miffed with us,” said Gran. “I interviewed her and practically accused her of having murdered Henry. She didn’t like that.”

“No, she definitely did not,” Scarlett chimed in. “So was he? Murdered, I mean?”

“Abe hasn’t delivered his report yet,” said Chase. “And as long as he hasn’t, Alec wants to hold off on instigating a full murder inquiry, which costs money and involves a team that needs to be assembled.”

“Always following procedure,” Gran grumbled. “That’s Alec for you. Anyone can see that the guy was murdered. And in fact we’ve already done your homework for you.” And in a few words she explained about Murder Club, and the interviews they’d conducted that morning. “So you see, it’s either Desmond, Charlie or Kate Doyle. Though my money is on Desmond.”

“Yeah, I think he’s our most likely suspect,” said Scarlett. “He practically told me he did it. In fact he came this close,” she said, holding her thumb and index finger millimeters apart.

“Okay, so please don’t go around accusing people,” said Chase, issuing a formal warning. “It’s not your job, and you might jeopardize our official inquiry—if and when it gets green-lit.” He cocked an eyebrow at the two ladies. “Can I have your word that you will hold off on any moreof this ‘Murder Club’ business?”

“Yes, Chase,” said Gran dutifully.

“Yes, detective,” said Scarlett meekly.

“Great. Now tell me again why you think that Desmond Palka killed Henry?”

And so with visible relish they reiterated the events as they had transpired.

“You did good,” he finally grunted. “But no more, you hear. And give your fellow Murder Club members the same message.”

“But how can we give them the message?” asked Gran. “We don’t even know you—not officially.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that,” said Chase, rubbing his chin.

“I don’t think there’s an issue here,” said Odelia. “As far as I can understand, the Murder Club members have already decided to wrap up their investigation, and let the police handle things from now on. That’s what Liz Murphy told you, didn’t she, Gran?”

“Oh, absolutely. They are keenly aware of their limitations, the same way we are. So from now on we defer to you, Chase.”

Chase seemed pleased to hear that, for he gave them both a pat on the back and a smile.

“He should deputize them,” said Harriet. “And he should deputize us. After all, we’ve done all the work so far, and what has he done? Nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Brutus. “Gran and Scarlett and the rest of the team have done a lot, and all Chase has done is sit behind his desk and twiddle his thumbs. And now he’s telling us to back off? It’s not fair.”

“He’s not actually telling us to back off,” I said. “All he’s saying is that if they go on, they might jeopardize the official inquiry. Tamper with evidence, mislead witnesses. It’s a very tricky business getting a conviction in court, even when you know who the killer is, and you have plenty of evidence. Even then the defense counsel can argue that their client’s rights have been violated by the Murder Club.”

“You’re right, Max,” said Harriet. “In fact that’s exactly how I feel about it.”

Our words didn’t miss their effect. At least temporarily. But then Brutus said, “I still think we should get first dibs on Desmond. We discovered that he’s the killer, and so we should get another crack at the guy.”

Okay, so maybe it’s a good thing that cats can’t actually talk to witnesses. Otherwise a lot of cases would probably get thrown out of court!

That night, as we roamed the Happy Home hallways, I’m happy to report that nothing much happened. No more residents were being murdered in their beds—or died of natural causes—and the residents that we did see were all regulars. Kate was wandering around, muttering something about being late for work, and as we passed Ester Teasle’s room, we could see that she was still up, even though the hour was late.

The woman was gazing at a picture of her grandkids, and I wondered why they still hadn’t come to visit the poor woman.

“Maybe her family died,” Dooley suggested now. “And maybe she doesn’t remember, and she thinks they’re still alive. You know, like Kate thinking she’s still a schoolteacher and has to get ready for work?”

“It’s possible,” I said. “Though she doesn’t strike me as confused.”

“No, she seems lucid,” Harriet agreed. “And I think it’s terrible what her son and his new wife are doing. Cutting her off like that, and refusing to come and see her.”

“But what about those grandkids?” asked Brutus. “Why don’t they come and visit? They don’t need their dad’s permission, do they?”

“Maybe they fell out or something,” I said. “I’m sure Ester hasn’t told us the whole story. Maybe they had some kind of row—possibly over the fact that Ester’s son decided to get married again. And now they’re not on speaking terms anymore. It happens.”

“It does,” Harriet said. “Sometimes families fall out over the silliest things, and end up not talking to each other again for years. Sometimes forever. It’s all very strange.”

We directed a compassionate glance at Ester, and could see that she was really suffering from this separation.

Moving on, we looked in on Bob, who was sitting in his armchair, staring into space.

“He’s probably thinking about his daughter,” said Dooley. “All he does is think about his daughter. And his daughter’s fianc?.”

We saw how Bob took his phone, looked up a number, then put it down again.

Clearly he was still wondering whether to follow Gran’s advice and call his daughter’s ex-fianc?. It was a hard decision, of course: did he want to get involved in what was clearly a private matter, potentially upsetting his daughter when she found out he’d been talking to this Pete person behind her back? Or did he simply leave things alone, with Sharon possibly never finding happiness. And as he picked up his phone again, then grimaced and put it down, I made a mental note to tell Gran to give the man another little nudge in the right direction.

Though what was the right direction in this case? Hard to know!

“Human relationships are tough,” said Dooley.

“Yes, they are,” said Harriet with feeling.

33

The next morning, we were all in the breakfast room enjoying a nice breakfast—the humans seated on chairs and eating from tables, and the four of us on the floor and eating from our bowls.

“It’s not actually fair when you get right down to it, is it?” said Brutus suddenly.

“What isn’t, sugar plum?” asked Harriet, licking her lips with relish.

“Well, they’re on chairs, and we are on the floor. Why not the other way around? Why can’t we sit on those chairs and eat from those tables? And the humans can sit on the floor and eat from our bowls? I mean, it’s a form of discrimination, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s much easier to eat from a bowl that’s on the floor,” I pointed out. “Imagine having to eat from a bowl on a table, and having to sit in a chair. It’s all very uncomfortable.”

“That’s not the point, though is it, Max?” said Brutus. “The point is that we should be given a choice. Table or floor. And not like things are now, when everyone simply ‘assumes’ that cats have to be on the floor, and humans have to be at the table.”

“I think it’s probably tough for Gran to eat from the floor,” Dooley mused. “I think she has something called lumbago, and if she eats from the floor she’ll be in a lot of pain.”

“Also, humans aren’t used to licking their food from a bowl,” said Harriet. “Their tongues aren’t trained for that kind of activity. They might strain something.”

“Okay, I hear you,” said Brutus, speaking with exaggerated patience, “and I appreciate the point you’re trying to make, but that’s all irrelevant! It’s the principle of the thing.”

“I like eating from my bowl,” said Dooley. “It’s exactly at the right height for me. If I have to eat from a table I’m sure I’d drop most of my food on the floor. And then I’ll have to get down from the chair and eat it from the floor anyway.”

“Oh, fine,” said Brutus. “I can see that my arguments are landing on deaf ears. But for once in my life, I would like the roles to be reversed, and for us to get some of the appreciation and respect that we’re due.”

But before Brutus could continue laying out his argument, there was a sort of hush that descended upon the room, and all eyes turned to the entrance, where Chase and Odelia had just appeared. They were talking to Brian, who quickly led them out again.

“It’s happening!” Liz said excitedly. “The police are ready to make an arrest!”

We watched on as conversations all around us started up again, and it wasn’t difficult to guess the topic of discussion: Henry’s death and the arrival of the constabulary.

And as I watched, I saw that Olivia quickly snuck a bread roll and dropped it into her purse. And when she thought no one was looking, she added a pat of butter.

“Gran does that all the time,” Dooley commented. “When she travels? She likes to sneak bread rolls into her purse for later.”

“Silly thing,” said Harriet. “She could simply ask for a picnic basket. Most hotels don’t mind.”

“It’s a habit,” said Brutus. “Like stealing bars of soap and shampoo from the hotel bathroom. It’s a regular curse with some people.”

“I would never steal a bar of soap,” said Dooley.

“That’s because you don’t use soap,” Harriet pointed out with a smile. “But you would sneak a pawful of kibble if you could, wouldn’t you?”

Dooley’s hesitation told us that he would, and he grinned. “You got me, Harriet. You really got me!”

“Let’s go, you guys,” I said when I saw that Gran and Scarlett made to leave. “Our humans need us!”

So we hurried out, followed by half the residents, who were all eager to find out what was going on as well, but I like to think we arrived in front of the pack, since no human can outrun a cat when we’re going well.

It didn’t take us long to locate Odelia and Chase. Using our excellent sense of smell, we tracked them to the office Desmond likes to use. It’s in the same part of the building where Brian has his office, and when we arrived a search was already underway.

Suddenly Chase said,“Got it!”

And when we approached, unhindered by Odelia, or the police officer who stood sentinel at the door, Chase showed his wife a piece of paper. And when Odelia’s eyes fell on the document, we could tell it was something important, for she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

“What is it?” I asked, burning with curiosity at this point. “What’s happening?”

Odelia glanced to the door, and when she was reassured that the officer couldn’t overhear us, she crouched down and showed us the document.

“It’s Henry’s real will,” she explained. “Chase just found it in a drawer of Desmond’s desk, where he must have hidden it after he exchanged it for the fake will he planted in Henry’s room.”

“So… Henry was murdered?” asked Harriet.

“Yes, he was,” said Odelia, but since more people arrived—this time crime scene investigators—she couldn’t say more.

“Looks like Desmond is our guy,” said Brutus. “Which is exactly what I always told you!”

I didn’t remember Brutus having told us anything about who he thought had killed Henry, but I decided not to argue. Finding the real will was a very important piece of evidence, and it showed that the case against the nursing aide was building.

Brian, who had just walked into the room, was held at the door.“What’s going on?” he asked anxiously.

“Where is Desmond?” asked Chase.

“I don’t know,” said Brian. “I haven’t seen him since before breakfast. Why? Is he in any trouble?”

“You could say that, sir,” said Chase.

“Could you please find him?” asked Odelia. “It’s very important that we speak to him.”

Brian nodded nervously, and took out his phone. Placing it to his ear, he shook his head.“Straight to voicemail,” he said. “What do you want to talk to him about?”

“We have a warrant for his arrest,” said Chase with a touch of gravity.

“His arrest!” Brian cried. “But why?”

“We have reason to believe that he killed one of your residents, sir. Henry Kaur.”

“My God,” said Brian, his hands flying to his face. “Murder? Are you sure?”

But Chase merely nodded. He wasn’t going to give Desmond’s employer the details of the case they were building against the man. “His address, please, sir?”

“Of course,” said Brian, and provided Chase with Desmond’s particulars. “But he must be here. I saw him just before breakfast, so he must be in the building.”

“Unless he realized the game was up and he fled,” said Chase with a grim expression on his face. “But trust me, sir. He won’t get far.”

34

It was Kirsten’s turn to check on the laundry: take reception of the clean laundry from the company contracted to handle the impressive volume Happy Home needed done every day, make sure everything was present and accounted for, and send off the dirty laundry for that day. She was still feeling under the weather and her mother had told her to take a sick day. The death of Henry, whom she had considered a personal friend, had plunged her into what could only be termed a general feeling of malaise. Coming on top of the trouble she’d been having with Desmond, it was as if a dark cloud had suddenly descended on her time here at Happy Home.

After talking things through with her mom last night, she had finally decided to launch a formal complaint against Desmond. That man’s behavior could no longer be tolerated. It was clear now that he would never stop. On the contrary: things had been steadily escalating, and when she told her mom that the man had placed his hand on her buttocks, Mom had even said they should go to the police. This was workplace harassment and even worse than that: a violation of her personal integrity. And who knows what he would do next. Corner her in the basement and force himself on her? The awful possibilities were too terrible to even contemplate, and it was obvious now that her safety was in jeopardy, and that something had to be done, and fast.

She descended the final couple of steps into the basement, where the laundry room was located. They had a couple of heavy-duty washing machines so they could handle part of the laundry themselves, as well as tumble dryers and ironing machines. But most of it was outsourced to a company that specialized in handling these large volumes. They also worked for their local hospital, and had other corporate clients.

And she was just about to take a left turn to head into the laundry room when she suddenly stumbled over something at the foot of the stairs. At first she thought someone had dropped a bag of laundry, but when she looked closer, she suddenly saw that it was a person. And when she saw his face, much to her horror she discovered it was… Desmond!

And he was staring up at her with dead eyes!

She must have yelled the whole house down, stumbling back up those stairs, and the first person she bumped into was Isaac, who must have heard her frantic screams.

“What’s wrong!” he asked.

“It’s Desmond!” she said between big gulps. “I think he’s—he’s—he’s dead!”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

It was all paws on deck when the story reached our ears that Desmond Palka had been found dead in the basement. Abe Cornwall soon arrived, and so did a small team of police officers to cordon off the area in an attempt to preserve the scene, as the vernacular goes. But by then about a dozen people had already traipsed up and down those stairs to take a look at the man. Half the building had probably heard Kirsten’s screams. The poor woman was the one who had found the dead man. Coming so soon after the death of Henry, this was the second big shock she had to sustain.

“Poor woman,” said Dooley as we watched the activity. Chase and Odelia were interviewing Kirsten, who looked very much impressed by the discovery of her dead colleague. “First Henry dies and now she stumbles over Desmond’s body.”

“Yeah, what are the odds?” I said, wondering how much of a coincidence it was that the man her mother thought posed such a threat to her died yesterday, and now the second person who had presented a clear and present danger was also dead. “People do seem to keep dying around Kirsten Williams,” I said.

“What are you saying, Max?” asked Harriet. “That somehow Kirsten is involved in the death of Henry and Desmond both?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it is an awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I think Kirsten’s mother is behind this,” said Brutus. “She’s one of those mother hens who will do anything to protect her children. If you so much as look at Kirsten the wrong way, Annette is going to come after you and make you pay.”

“You mean like a vigilante Mom?” asked Harriet. “I thought that only existed in bad B-movies?”

“It’s happening right under our noses, baby cheeks,” said Brutus. “Only Odelia and Chase refuse to accept the horrible truth: that they have allowed themselves to be used for Annette’s sinister purposes.”

“I don’t know if Annette is involved,” I said. “After all, she does have an alibi for the time of Henry’s death. And I’m sure Odelia and Chase will interview her and ask her where she was when Desmond died. When did he die, by the way? Has Abe confirmed time of death?”

But Harriet shook her head. She was the one who’d been keeping tabs on Odelia and Chase’s interview with Kirsten, and also on Abe’s progress. At least until the coroner had chased her away. No professional crime scene person enjoys the prospect of a bunch of cats traipsing all over their crime scene.

“He must have died sometime this morning,” she said. “Cause Brian told Odelia and Chase that he had seen him right before breakfast, remember?”

“So he could have died when we were all gathered in the breakfast room,” I said. “Which would give most of the residents a solid alibi, and also Brian himself.”

“Now why would Brian go and murder Desmond?” asked Harriet. “That makes no sense.”

“Yeah, looks to me as if Brian has been protecting Desmond all this time,” said Brutus. “Even when Kirsten told him what the guy was up to.”

“It’s possible that Brian realized that Desmond was causing him a lot of embarrassment, and might jeopardize Happy Home’s good reputation,” I said. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. It’s still possible that he simply took a bad fall, and that his death was an accident.”

Harriet made a scoffing sound at this.“You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “But if I’ve learned anything over the course of the last couple of years, it’s always to keep an open mind.”

The interview with Kirsten was over, and Odelia and Chase came up to us, then gave us a sign to follow them.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I hurried to keep up.

“I’m calling a meeting,” Odelia whispered.

“Oh, goodie,” said Dooley. “I love meetings!”

35

The meeting took place in Gran and Scarlett’s room, and was of the kind that involved the captain of the team—Odelia—to talk to the team members—Gran and Scarlett in the first place, and the feline contingent to a lesser extent—and relay a fresh set of instructions.

“Okay, so if you don’t start talking soon,” said Gran, “I’m going to die of curiosity. What gives, you guys? Who killed Desmond?”

“As far as we can tell, Desmond’s death was an accident,” said Chase, launching into the proceedings by giving us that first tidbit of shocking information. “He must have stumbled and fallen, and broken his neck in the process.”

“Is that the official verdict?” asked Gran, who looked disappointed.

“This is Abe’s preliminary conclusion, yes,” Odelia confirmed. “And I think the autopsy will bear that out.”

“But couldn’t he have been pushed?” asked Scarlett.

“Of course he could have been pushed,” said Chase, “but that’s going to be very difficult to prove. There isn’t a lot of difference between stumbling down the stairs by accident, or because someone gave you a big push. And unless someone saw what happened, or a camera picked it up, it’simpossible to know what actually happened.”

“And let me guess: no one saw anything, and there are no cameras,” said Gran, looking more and more unhappy.

“Bingo,” said Chase, pointing at her.

“Please don’t mention that word,” Gran lamented. “I’ve had all the bingo I can stomach for a while.”

“So when did he die?” asked Scarlett.

“Sometime before nine o’clock this morning,” said Odelia.

“When most of us were in the breakfast room,” said Scarlett. “Having breakfast.”

“Is there anyone you know of that wasn’t there around that time?” asked Odelia.

Gran and Scarlett thought for a moment, and so did we, but it’s hard to account for everybody when you’re dealing with such a large group. At any given time there are hundreds of residents at Happy Home, and then there’s the staff members to take into consideration as well.

“We arrived shortly after nine,” said Chase. “And when we got here the first person we saw was Brian. So he couldn’t have done it.”

“Unless he rushed back from giving his employee a shove,” said Gran. “He did seem a little winded, wouldn’t you say?”

“The man has a lot on his mind,” Scarlett pointed out. “He’s juggling three women, and the last thing he seemed concerned about was Desmond. When Kirsten talked to him about the guy, he couldn’t have cared less.”

“So what about Kirsten?” asked Chase. “We talked to her and she said she was on breakfast duty with Isaac until nine, and then she went to check on the laundry.”

“That seems about right,” Scarlett confirmed. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them both,” she explained. “It’s my very special project.”

“She’s trying to get Kirsten and Isaac together,” said Gran. “Though I’m not sure it’s working.”

“It’s working,” said Scarlett. “Isaac just needs another little push, and so does Kirsten. I just know those two would be very happy together.”

“Okay, so romance aside, there’s something else we have to tell you,” said Chase. “Something important.” He gave us all a grave look. “It’s official now. Henry Kaur was murdered.”

“What?!” Scarlett cried.

“See?” said Gran. “I told you!”

“The autopsy showed trace evidence of certain fibers on his face, in his mouth and nasal passage, and even in his lungs. And when compared to the pillow we found at the scene, there was a definite match. Henry was choked to death with his own pillow. So he didn’t die in his sleep. There was some other stuff, like petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes as well as in the lungs, which all point to death by asphyxiation.”

“There’s more,” said Odelia when Gran and Scarlett started talking at the same time.

“More? How can there be more!” Gran cried.

“A handwriting expert examined the will we found in Henry’s room, and it turns out it’s a fake. And when we searched Desmond’s room just now, we found the real will. Turns out that Desmond substituted Henry’s real will for a fake he planted in the man’s room. A fake that made him the only beneficiary of the man’s inheritance.”

“So Desmond killed him for the money?” asked Scarlett.

“That’s the theory we’re working from at the moment,” Chase confirmed. “Desmond killed Henry, substituted the fake will for the real one, and that way hoped to benefit from the man’s fortune.”

“So there is a fortune?” asked Gran.

“Yes, there is,” said Odelia, her eyes sparkling. “We talked to Henry’s banker, and the man was a bona fide millionaire. His estate is estimated to be worth around ten million, most of it invested in high-yield bonds, and also in gold and other valuables, located in the man’s safe depositbox at the bank. So Henry wasn’t lying when he told Kirsten that he was rich.”

“So who did he leave his money to?” asked Gran. “Kirsten?”

“No, not Kirsten. Happy Home,” said Odelia.

“Happy Home! But why?”

“He states in his will that his stay at Happy Home was the best time of his life, and he wants to see others enjoy the same kind of service and excellence. And since he doesn’t have living relatives or kids, he decided to leave everything to Happy Home.”

“Now that’s weird,” said Gran. “Henry told Kirsten he was going to make her a rich woman one day.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean that literally,” Odelia suggested. “She does work here, and so if Happy Home benefits, it’s going to be beneficial to the people on staff as well.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Gran dubiously.

“So what’s going to happen now?” asked Scarlett.

“Now the case is closed,” said Chase. “Desmond killed Henry, and then died from a fall down the stairs. The real will has been found, and the one benefiting Desmond exposed as a fake. So that ties this whole case up nice and tidy.”

“What about us?” asked Scarlett.

“Your work is done,” said Odelia. “Your assignment was to protect Kirsten from Henry, and now that he’s dead, there’s no reason to stay on anymore.”

“And what about our other assignment?” asked Gran. “To prove that Brian is cheating on his wife?”

“We examined the footage you shot,” said Odelia, “and handed it over to Sara. She called me this morning, and said that her lawyer thinks she stands a very good chance to be awarded full custody of the kids based on this new evidence of her husband’s infidelity. So that part of your assignment is also done.” She spread her arms and smiled. “You did great, you guys. And I’m so proud of you all.”

“Thanks,” Gran murmured, though she didn’t look entirely satisfied. “I would like to stay on just a little while longer, though, if that’s all right with you.”

“Why? There’s nothing left to investigate.”

“Our work isn’t done yet,” Gran insisted.

“What work? What do you mean?”

Gran gave her granddaughter a fine smile.“Trust me. We’re not done here.”

“What is Gran talking about?” asked Dooley. “Why can’t we go home?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it’s about trying to get Kirsten and Isaac together?”

“That’s not really our job, though, is it?” said Brutus. “We’re not exactly Cupid.”

“It’s very romantic, though,” said Harriet with a dreamy smile. “Getting these two young hearts to meet and fall in love. I think it’s a wonderful assignment. In fact it’s a lot more worthwhile than trying to solve murders. If the world would be filled with more romance, it would be a much nicer place, wouldn’t you agree?”

She got no argument from me, nor from Dooley and Brutus. Though I did think that whoever was paying for our stay at Happy Home—which probably wasn’t cheap, I might add—might disagree with Harriet’s assessment.

36

Odelia and Chase were in the car on their way back into town. In spite of the progress they’d made in the investigation she wasn’t fully satisfied. Her grandmother’s statements puzzled her, which wasn’t the first time. The motivations behind some of that old lady’s actions weren’t always sound. But now that someone was footing the bill for her stay at Happy Home, she couldn’t simply dismiss her decisions as the results of a whim.

“I hope she’ll change her mind soon,” she said. “Sara and Annette won’t keep paying through the nose forever.”

“What are you going to tell them?” asked her husband, who was expertly steering his squad car through traffic.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I was going to tell them that the investigation was finished, and that all was well now. Kirsten is safe, though shocked and saddened by what happened with Henry, and Sara can file for divorce, safe in the knowledge that she stands a good chance of being awarded full custody of her kids.”

“You could tell them there a few loose ends that need to be tied up,” Chase suggested.

“They’ll want to know what loose ends I’m talking about,” she said. “And I won’t be able to tell them. I mean, I can hardly tell them that my grandmother is a known eccentric, and that she does whatever she wants at all times?”

“Maybe she has a good reason to stay on?”

“But then why didn’t she tell us?”

Chase grinned.“Probably because we wouldn’t approve.” He glanced over at her. “Just give them a couple of days. She’ll get bored and will want to come home.”

“And if not, maybe she can stay there forever from now on,” Odelia grumbled. “And pay the bill herself.”

“You know as well as I do that she won’t be able to pay for Happy Home from her pension. Heck, she won’t even be able to pay for one of the less expensive options.” He shook his head. “No, your gran will have to keep staying with your mom and dad, unless the whole family gets together andfoots that bill.”

The prospect of her grandmother staying at Happy Home from now on filled Odelia with discomfort. That place had seen two people dead in twenty-four hours. And even though she knew that Desmond’s death had been an accident, merely the fact that the man had murdered a resident just so he could cash in on his inheritance sent shivers down her spine.

“I’ll give her two more days. If she hasn’t told us what she’s up by then, I’m bringing her home, whether she likes it or not,” she said.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Kirsten had gone through a series of shocks these last couple of days. And now with Desmond dead, she was more keenly aware than ever of how fleeting life can be, and how things might change from one moment to the next.

She was seated in the staff canteen, nursing a cup of hot coffee, and gazing idly out the window. Only yesterday Desmond had been polishing his car, and now he was gone. How strange life could be. And how unpredictable.

She looked up when Isaac joined her. She awarded him a weak smile.“Have the police left?” she asked.

“Yeah, they talked to some more people, but from what they told me Desmond’s death was an accident. He must have tripped and fallen when he walked down the stairs.”

“I wonder what he was doing there,” said Kirsten. “I mean, it wasn’t his turn to handle laundry, and there’s nothing else down there, is there?”

“Some storage spaces,” said Isaac, “and the boiler and electrical room. But Desmond didn’t have anything to do with that. So no, I have no idea what he was doing down there either. But then half the time I had no idea what he was doing. Desmond was a force of nature.”

“And a terrible person,” she said without thinking. Then felt incredibly ashamed. “I shouldn’t have said that. He’s dead now, and you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“He was a terrible person,” Isaac said, and placed a reassuring hand on hers. His hand was warm, and comforting, and she gazed into his eyes for a moment, and saw only reassurance there, and kindness. What a difference with Desmond, who had been cruel and mean-spirited.

She felt safe with Isaac. He might not be the most handsome man on the planet, or the sexiest, but he was a good person. And she knew that he liked her. A lot, if the color on his cheeks and his occasional nervous mutterings in the past were an indication.

“Is it true that Desmond murdered Henry for his money?” she asked now.

Isaac reluctantly released her hand and took a sip from his own cup of coffee. Extra cream, extra sugar, she knew.

“Yeah, at least that’s what the police told me. He forged a new will, leaving Henry’s money to him, and then killed him by smothering him with his own pillow.” He shook his head. “I knew he wasn’t a good person, and that he was horrible to you all the time. But I had no idea he was capable of something like that.”

“It’s terrible,” Kirsten agreed. “For him to want to kill a man as gentle and sweet as Henry, just so he could lay his hands on his money… That’s just so incredibly mean.”

“Turns out that Henry wasn’t lying. He actually was rich. A millionaire many times over, so they say. And he left it all to Happy Home. Ten million. Out of gratitude for the happy years he spent here.”

Kirsten smiled.“At least something good will come of this.” She’d already told her mother that she was wrong about Henry, and now she could finally prove it. He hadn’t been the predator Mom said he was. He had been a little strange, but fundamentally he was a good person.

“So what’s going to happen now?” asked Isaac. He suddenly seemed a little anxious, the color in his cheeks deepening even more.

“Now Brian will have to find someone to replace Desmond, I guess,” said Kirsten. “And Henry’s room is free, so we’ll get a new resident soon.”

“No, I mean, what are you going to do?”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“I guess what I’m trying to ask you is: are you going to stay on at Happy Home?”

“Why wouldn’t I stay here?”

“Well, after all you’ve been through… And your mother might not want you to… I guess what I’m trying to say is that…” He gave her a fervent look, and suddenly clasped her hand in his again, then immediately let go again, as if feeling that it was an impropriety. “If you were to go, I would understand, Kirsten. But I would also be very sad. Because I like you. As a colleague, I mean,” he quickly added. “And if you would go, I wouldn’t… I mean I don’t think I could… I mean it would…”

Before she could change her mind, she pressed a kiss to his lips, effectively shutting him up. The kiss went on a little longer than she had anticipated, and the sensation was wholly pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that she wondered why they hadn’t done this before.

When they finally broke the kiss, she didn’t notice that they had been observed from the other side of the staff canteen.

Scarlett, who’d been looking for her prot?g?, couldn’t have been happier with that kiss.

Her work was done here, she thought as she turned around and left before the young couple spotted her. Her romantic heart rejoiced!

37

The shocking events of the past two days had made quite an impression on Bob. Never in the twelve months since he arrived there had something like this happened. A murder? At Happy Home? It was too horrible to contemplate. And Desmond was the killer? A man who had been entrusted with their care? What he had done was anathema to the responsibility he had taken upon himself. And frankly Bob didn’t know if he still wanted to stay there. If members of staff were going around murdering residents in their beds, just so they could get their hands on their money, then nobody was safe. Not even he, even though he wasn’t rich, like apparently Henry had been.

He felt a little guilty now, knowing what he knew, and figured that he had been too harsh on the guy. Turns out the man probably had led an interesting life, if he had managed to amass a small fortune, and keep it a secret from everybody.

He wondered now, his writer’s mind digging a little deeper, and picking on every little fragment of information he could lay his hands on, what kind of person Henry actually was. Why had he chosen to leave his money to Happy Home? Why didn’t he have a family? He realized now that nobody had really known Henry. Not really. It was all so mysterious. And could provide excellent material for a fascinating book.

He looked up when a knock sounded at the door, and was pleased to see his daughter walk in. But when he saw that she wasn’t alone, and had brought Pete along with her, he was even more pleased. Though also very surprised.

“Pete!” he cried, getting up from his chair. “Well, how about that?”

“Pete called me,” Sharon explained as she placed her purse on a chair and pulled another chair out to take a seat at the table. “Out of the blue. We hadn’t spoken for months.” She glanced up at the man she had once been engaged to, and Bob watched anxiously, his eyes shifting from Pete toSharon, wondering what was going on.

“I wanted to call you myself,” he said. “Just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” Even though his new neighbor had told him to call, he simply hadn’t been able to do it. But he was sure glad to see the man now.

“That’s all right,” said Pete, who was a handsome man of Sharon’s age, with a slim build, and a full head of dark hair. “I should have called you, but I thought it might be awkward, so I didn’t.”

“Awkward? Nothing awkward about it,” said Bob, though admittedly the situation was beyond awkward. “So how have you been, Pete?”

“Fine,” said Pete with a smile. “I’ve missed you, though. Sharon especially, of course.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” said Sharon, and Bob didn’t know what he was hearing. Did his daughter actually tell her former fianc? that she had missed him? Now that was news to him.

“Look, I’ve misread the situation,” said Pete. “And for that I apologize.”

“No need to apologize,” said Sharon, holding up her hand. “It was my fault.” She turned to her dad. “Pete heard about what happened here. With your friend being murdered, and now the murderer also dead. And he was worried, and asked if it was all right with me if he came for a visit. So Itold him he didn’t have to ask. Just because we’re not a couple anymore doesn’t mean you and Pete can’t still be friends.”

“The thing I don’t understand,” said Bob, offering a chair to Pete, who was still standing, “is why you two broke up in the first place. I mean, you guys are so good together. Now I don’t want to pry, and I know you’ll think I’m just some nosy old busybody, but why? It’s such a waste, you know. And I’m not saying that because I already had a whole speech prepared for the wedding,” he added with a smile that was meant to disarm and get rid of the tension that he could feel in the room.

Pete darted a quick glance at Sharon, but she was staring intensely at a saltshaker that had been left on the table. She picked it up and toyed with it for a moment.

“The thing is, Dad, that some of it has to do with you.”

“With me!”

“I never wanted you to move out, Dad. I like to take care of you, and I very much enjoyed having you live with us. But then when Pete and I started dating, and eventually got engaged, you suddenly decided to move into Happy Home, and since you seemed so keen on it, I didn’t want to stand in your way. But I have to tell you that I never agreed with that decision.”

“I only did it to give you and Pete some space,” said Bob. “A young couple…”

Sharon laughed.“We were hardly a young couple, Dad. I’m forty-eight and Pete is fifty-two.”

“You know what I mean. A couple needs their privacy. They can’t have some old fogey trampling all over the place and getting in their way.”

“I liked it when you trampled all over the place,” said Sharon softly. “And so when you left, and suddenly it was just me and Pete, I guess I felt… angry. I blamed him for you leaving. I even told him that he chased you away. And so before long we were fighting, and our happy home wasn’t a happy home anymore. And so then you also moved out,” she told Pete. “And suddenly I was all alone in that big house, and… Well, I haven’t had a good time this past year.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Bob ruefully. “I just thought—”

“I know, dad. You did what you thought was best, and so now I want to apologize to you, Pete.”

Pete stared at Sharon, a strange glimmer in his eyes. If Bob didn’t know any better, it looked as if he was tearing up.

“I want to apologize for blaming you for something you had absolutely nothing to do with. I drove you away, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“I’ve missed you, Sharon,” said Pete, his voice suddenly husky. “And I’m also sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. You were in pain, after your mom died, and then your dad left, and I should have understood that, and reacted with compassion instead of anger.”

Sharon dipped her head down, and Bob could tell that she was also tearing up.

Now what was going on here? For the life of him he didn’t have a clue anymore. But before he knew it, suddenly Pete had taken a step toward Sharon, and before long, the two of them were clasping each other in their arms, and kissing, and crying, and laughing.

And as he wiped away a tear himself, he suddenly heard himself say,“If you really wanted to, I could move back in. But only if you think it’s a good idea, you hear.”

Sharon gave him a watery smile.“I really want you to move back in with me, Dad.” She glanced up at Pete, who was holding onto her and didn’t look like he was about to let go any time soon. “Move in with us, if that’s all right with you, Pete.”

“Yes,” said Pete huskily. “I want everything to be just the way it was. We were happy, weren’t we, the three of us?”

“And we’ll be happy again,” said Bob, making a swift decision.

Later, when emotions had stopped running so high, he asked Pete how he had known about Henry’s murder. And when he told him that a Janelle Corr had called him and explained the situation, he smiled. Now talk about a nosy busybody…

38

Ester Teasle was polishing the framed picture of her son with his second wife and kids when there was a knock at the door and that very same son and wife and kids suddenly came walking in!

“Knock knock,” said Kirk, and looked worried when she simply stared at them, too stunned for speech. “We thought we’d drop by,” he explained. “I hope it’s not a bad time?”

“We heard about the murder, Grandma,” said Sasha, Kirk’s youngest. She was fourteen and precocious for her age.

“Yeah, is it true that a murderer has been killing people all over the place?” asked Oscar, who was sixteen and loved playing video games. At least he used to, before Ester had moved into Happy Home.

“Oh, will you look at you,” she said, when she finally had recovered enough from the shock to be able to speak. “How you have grown!”

And they had—both of them.

She glanced at Prunella, who still looked exactly the same: cold and aloof and also very, very beautiful, in a statuesque sort of way. Like a beautiful marble statue, and with just about the same warmth and affection.

“Hello, Ester,” said Prunella, and glanced around with a look of distaste. “This place is a lot smaller than I imagined.”

“It’s nice,” said Sasha. “In fact it’s very nice. Nicer than my room.”

“We heard about the murder,” said Kirk. “Is it true? Did one of the nursing aides in this place actually murder one of the old boys?”

“He did, yeah,” said Ester, who was too happy to see her family to be bothered by Kirk referring to Henry as an ‘old boy.’ “Smothered him with a pillow and then substituted his will for a will he wrote himself, trying to lay his hands on Henry’s money.”

“Ten million?” said Kirk. “And the guy lived next door to you?”

“He did, yeah,” said Ester, who hadn’t missed the expression of surprise on her daughter-in-law’s face at the mention of the ten million. Money was Prunella’s great passion in life. That and her good looks, of course. Money bought her an extensive and expensive garderobe, the best hair stylist in Manhattan, regular facial treatments, massages, and of course visits to the plastic surgeon to keep looking as youthful and beautiful as she could. Her new boobs alone had set Kirk back an exorbitant sum.

“Why don’t you ever call us, Gran?” asked Sasha now as she grabbed Ester’s phone. “We’ve been trying to call you, but you never pick up.” She frowned at the phone. “Have you changed numbers? This isn’t the number we have for you.” She frowned some more. “And this isn’t my number, or Oscar’s. Where did you get these numbers?” She took out her own phone and showed it to Ester.

“Oh, that’s an old number,” she said. “I haven’t used that one for at least ten years.”

“But that’s the one Mom gave us,” said Sasha. She smiled. “No wonder we couldn’t reach you. You should have given Mom your real number.”

“Well, I did,” she said, glancing at Prunella, who was studying her gel nails intensely. “I guess she must have lost it.” And given her non-existent numbers for the kids in the process.

“Yeah, that must be it,” said Kirk, suddenly looking ill at ease. “So I’ve been thinking, Mom, with this murder business, and you being so far away from us… How would you feel about moving a little closer to home again? I mean, I know how much you like this place, of course. But as it happens, a room has come available at Dartmoor Gardens, which is just around the corner from where we live.”

“We talked about it,” said Oscar, “and if you were there we could visit you all the time, Gran. And you could spend the holidays with us again, just like you used to do before you moved out to the sticks.”

“The sticks,” Kirk chuckled, but it sounded strained. “I’ll have you know that Happy Home is one of the best retirement homes in the county. Your mother picked it out personally for its reputation.”

“Oh, so Prunella picked this place?” said Ester. “I thought you had picked it?”

“I defer to my wife in such matters,” said Kirk, smiling nervously.

“I simply chose what I thought was best for you,” said Prunella with a light shrug, but she wasn’t meeting Ester’s eyes. “Only the best of the best for Kirk’s mother.”

“Absolutely,” said Kirk.

“But now we want you to come home again,” said Sasha, and attached herself to Ester’s hand. “Please, Gran? We miss you so much.”

“Yeah, we miss you, Gran,” Oscar chimed in. “And we miss your pancakes. Nobody bakes pancakes like you. Not even that fancy bakery Prunella always takes us to.”

“Now how many times have I told you not to call your mother Prunella?” said Kirk sternly.

“Will you come home, Gran?” Sasha pleaded, still hanging on to her arm. “Pretty please?”

“Oh, all right,” said Ester, and didn’t miss the eye roll of annoyance from Prunella. “But only if your mom and dad agree.”

“Of course,” said Kirk. “I just figured you liked it out here so much you didn’t… I mean you wouldn’t… Well, of course we want you back, Mom.” He pressed an awkward kiss to her temple.

“Prunella?” asked Ester. “What do you think?”

Prunella made a slight gesture with her hand.“Fine by me,” she said. “Though nothing is better than Happy Home. Everyone says so.”

Better for her, maybe, thought Ester. But not better for the rest of the family. And most importantly, not better for Ester, who couldn’t wait to go back home again.

She offered the kids some cookies from her cookie jar, and promised to bake them pancakes as soon as she had moved back to Manhattan. And to satisfy her own curiosity, she asked Kirk,“Who told you about Henry?”

“Oh, some woman named… um… Corr, I think?”

“Janelle Corr,” said Prunella, and the way she said it made Ester think she had developed an immediate distaste for Janelle. Ester could hardly suppress a smile, though. And she said a silent thank you to her new neighbor.

She was going to thank her properly later on, but first she wanted to spoil her grandkids, and ask them about school, and about how they had been… They had a lot of catching up to do. Two years’ worth!

39

Gran had told us the reason why she had decided to stay at Happy Home for another few days. Bob was unhappy about his daughter breaking up with her fianc?, and couldn’t get himself to do something about it because he was afraid to pry—something Gran has never had a problem with. And Ester Teasle was unhappy because her family hadn’t paid her a visit in the two years she’d been there.

“So Gran is acting like a benevolent busybody,” Dooley summed up things nicely.

“A benevolent busybody,” said Harriet with a smile. “Now that’s the correct word for Gran. She’s a busybody, but she does it for all the right reasons—sometimes.”

“I wonder if she’s going to tell Dee she should break up with Brian,” said Brutus. “Because that man is going to break that poor woman’s heart.”

“Has he been busy with Gladys again?” I asked.

“According to Polly he sure has,” Brutus confirmed.

“Polly told us that Brian got Jane out of her room under some pretense, and has been using her room for his secret meetings with Jane’s daughter again,” said Harriet. “That man is such a cheat. He even cheats on the woman he’s been cheating on his wife with. So he’s a double cheat. In other words, a supercheat!”

That supercheat was having some other problems to contend with. With the death of Desmond, and the police investigation revealing that the man was a murderer, residents had been complaining about their safety to their relatives, who were all crowding into Brian’s office and wanting to know how it was possible that he hadn’t noticed what was going on, and demanding he do something to shore up security.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if this scandal is going to cost Brian a lot of money,” said Brutus. “People are talking about suing Happy Home, and threatening to leave.”

“It’ll settle down after a while,” said Harriet. “It’s just one rotten egg, and Isaac and Kirsten and the other staff are all very nice, and definitely not murderers.”

“As far as we know,” said Brutus cautiously.

And since Gran and Scarlett seemed to be at the forefront of these exciting and shocking events, the members of Murder Club had requested an urgent meeting to discuss what was going on.

And so after giving Liz, Olivia and Bill their full report, Liz said,“I saw you talking to that Odelia Kingsley. And it seemed to me that you two know each other. What’s the story there, Janelle?”

Gran and Scarlett shared a look, and finally Gran decided to come clean.

“My name isn’t actually Janelle Corr,” she said.

“And my name isn’t Janette Corr,” said Scarlett. “And I’m not her sister.”

“I’m Vesta Muffin, and this is my best friend Scarlett Canyon,” said Gran. “And Odelia is my granddaughter.”

“Oh, my God!” said Liz, clasping a hand to her face. “I knew it. Didn’t I tell you, Bill? Didn’t I tell there was something going on with the Corr sisters? Didn’t I?”

“You told me,” said Bill with a smile.

And so Gran told the Murder Club members the whole story. How Annette Williams had asked Odelia to keep an eye on her daughter Kirsten. And how Sara Brooks wanted evidence that proved that her husband was cheating on her. And how the two of them had decided to go undercover, and handle both cases at once.

“And what about your cats?” asked Olivia, as she darted a suspicious look at me. “Are they really your cats? Or did you rent them?”

“Rent us!” Harriet cried. “I’m officially insulted!”

“A rent-a-cat,” Brutus chuckled. “Now there’s something new.”

“Yeah, they are mine,” said Gran. “Though Dooley is officially mine, Max belongs to Odelia, Brutus belongs to Chase, that’s Odelia’s husband Chase Kingsley, who you met this morning, and Harriet belongs to my daughter Marge.”

“My God,” said Liz, who was so excited that she couldn’t sit still and was bouncing up and down in her armchair. “So you work with the police. How exciting is that! So that’s how you know so much about this investigation.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Gran. “Odelia tells us everything. We’re an integral part of the team.”

“How about that?” said Bill. “You guys lead such an interesting life.”

“Oh, we’ve been involved in many investigations over the years,” said Gran.

“And so have I,” said Scarlett. “Remember that time we were undercover at that bakery? Or that time we went undercover at Glimmer? Now that was something else.”

“We also write a weekly column for the Hampton Cove Gazette,” Gran revealed. “It’s called Dear Gabi, and Scarlett and I share the work.”

“You’re Gabi!” Olivia cried. “Oh, but I love that column! I read you guys all the time!”

“Remind me to send a letter asking how to deal with a two-timing retirement home manager who spends more time with his mistresses than with his residents,” said Bill. “These past few days have been a real eye-opener, I can tell you that.”

“It has been very eventful,” Liz agreed. “Not to mention shocking. But in the end the truth was discovered, and Murder Club played a small part, and for that I’m very grateful, and very proud.” She nodded to Gran and Scarlett. “And I want to thank you for your contributions. If it wasn’t for you, we would never have known what really went on here, right under our noses.”

“So are you guys leaving now?” asked Bill. “I mean, your job is done, right?”

“We’ll stick around for another couple of days,” said Gran, “but then we’ll probably move back home again.”

“Well, let me tell you—and I think my co-members will agree with me when I say this—that once you’re home again, you’re always welcome to come back here to join our meetings.”

“Let’s hope there won’t be any more murders!” Olivia said. “One is more than plenty!”

And so ended our final Murder Club meeting. At least for the present!

40

As Vesta Muffin and her friend returned to their room, Liz had to confess that she was secretly a little jealous of the two. To be able to work so closely with the police like that, and to have such a familial link with the Kingsleys must be such a joy.

“It must be so much fun ,” she said with a wistful sigh. “To be a fly on the wall in that house. A cop, a reporter, and Vesta’s son the Chief of Police for all of Hampton Cove. And did she say her son’s girlfriend is the Mayor?”

“Yeah, Mayor Charlene Butterwick,” Bill confirmed.

“What a family,” said Liz. “And her daughter is a librarian who’s married to a doctor.”

“Doc Poole,” said Bill. “He’s a great doctor.”

“You know him?” asked Liz.

“When my doctor was on holiday he referred his patients to Doctor Poole.”

“And how was he?”

“Oh, he’s a fine doctor. A little absentminded from time to time, but he knows his stuff. I was suffering from a corn at the time, remember? And he fixed me right up.”

“What a family,” Liz repeated, and gave another little sigh.

“Oh, we’re not so bad ourselves,” said Olivia. “We did solve Henry’s murder, after all.”

“We didn’t actually solve it,” said Bill.

“We pointed the police in the right direction,” said Olivia.

“Yeah, we did say it was murder, even when the police thought he died from natural causes,” said Liz. “And we did name Desmond as our number-one suspect.”

“I thought your number-one suspect was Charlie Moore?” said Bill with a wicked little grin.

“Okay, so I was wrong, but that’s why there’s three of us, so we don’t make the mistake of picking the wrong suspect.”

But Olivia was right, she thought. They had done a great job with Henry’s murder, and Murder Club had really punched above its weight there.

So maybe she shouldn’t be jealous of Vesta and Scarlett. And besides, jealousy was an ugly emotion, and poisonous. So she decided to drop it. Her life was fine the way it was. She had a great husband, a wonderful sister, and they were staying at the best retirement home in the county. What did she have to complain about? Exactly nothing!

She watched as Isaac and Kirsten came walking down the corridor. She could be mistaken but they looked like a couple in love, exchanging smiles and holding hands from time to time. And when they thought no one was looking, they even shared a kiss!

“Looks like Isaac and Kirsten are a couple,” she said.

“Are they now?” said Bill, who had picked up his paper and was reading it cover to cover.

“Good for them,” said Olivia, who was rereading one of her Agatha Christie novels for the umpteenth time, even though she already knew who the murderer was.

Isaac knocked on the door of Vesta and Scarlett’s room, and Scarlett came out. Isaac must have given her some good news, for Scarlett was smiling and hugged both Isaac and Kirsten.

“I think Scarlett played matchmaker for those two,” she said, even though at this point nobody was listening to her. “And a fine job she did, too.”

Scarlett now told her friend about Isaac and Kirsten, and Vesta looked thrilled, too. Then the weirdest thing happened: Vesta bent down and seemed to talk to that fat red cat of hers. Max something. And it almost looked as if the fat cat was responding! Its lips were moving, and he must have said something funny, for Vesta laughed.

“Vesta is talking to her cat,” she remarked.

“Crazy cat lady,” Bill murmured.

“And the cat is talking back to her.”

“Now that’s impossible and you know it,” said Olivia. “Cats don’t talk.”

“Oh, yes, they do,” said Bill, lowering his paper. “Cats talk all the time. It’s just that we can’t understand them, that’s all. Same thing with dogs. They can talk to each other, and they’re also trying to talk to us, but unfortunately we can’t understand what they’re saying.”

“Bill, you’re talking nonsense,” Olivia said.

“Yeah, Bill, read your paper,” said Liz. “Cats can’t talk, and neither can dogs.” Or could they?

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“She did it,” said Harriet, and looked over the moon. “She actually managed to bring that young couple together!”

“Are they going to get married now?” asked Dooley.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Young couples these days don’t get married straight away. First they date for a while, to get to know each other, then they move in together, to see if they’re compatible, and then maybe, after a couple of years, they decide to tie the knot.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” said Brutus. “If you get married straight out of the gate, and things go wrong, it makes things a lot more complicated.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Dooley, though he seemed disappointed. “I think they should get married, though. They’re such a cute couple. Just look at them.”

We all looked at them, and they did look like a very happy couple, and also very pretty.

“Let’s give them some space,” Gran now suggested. “Instead of gaping at them as if they’re animals at the zoo.” And so she ushered us back into the room, so that Isaac and Kirsten could go about their duties—and their romance. “You did a good thing there, Scarlett,” said Gran, giving her friend a rare compliment. “I never thought you’d be able to pull it off, but you did.”

“All I did was give them a little nudge in the right direction,” said Scarlett modestly. “But what I think clinched things is that whole Desmond business. Especially now that Isaac proved such a rock to Kirsten, when she was going through hell these last couple of days. First standing up to Desmond the way he did, and almost getting attacked by that man for his trouble, and also being there for her when Henry died, and then when she stumbled over Desmond’s body.”

“Yeah, Isaac really proved himself,” said Gran. “And now, I guess, our work here is done. So we can start packing and go home!”

“Oh, whoopee!” Dooley cried. “We’re going home, you guys! We’re finally going home!”

“And not a moment too soon” Brutus grumbled. “This business about burying my doo-doo and my wee-wee is really starting to wear me down.”

41

Brian was in his office and the atmosphere was tense. Sara had asked if she could drop by, and even though this never happened— she hated to visit him at Happy Home—he hadn’t an inkling until she told him she wanted a divorce. She had shown him some of the images of him and Dee, and also of him and Gladys, and of course he had demanded to know who had made those images, and how she had gotten them, but she merely said she had her sources, and that it was typical that he would start accusing her of spying on him, when all the while he should be apologizing for what he’d put her through.

He realized that she was right, but when he did apologize, she said it was too little and too late, and that she was going to demand full custody of the kids, and that her lawyer would be in touch with him.

And in the middle of this tense meeting, his phone rang and when he picked up, it was that Detective Kingsley with the Hampton Cove Police Department on the line.

“Yes?” he said, not really in the mood to talk to the cop, but not wanting to brush him off either. He was, after all, a police officer, and the things that had been happening at Happy Home could herald in the end of his tenure—or even the end of Happy Home, period.

“Mr. Brooks,” spoke the cop’s deep voice. “I talked to the notary who’s handling Henry Kaur’s estate, and he tells me the money has been transferred into your company’s account. I just wanted to let you know that this concludes my investigation, sir.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said, and automatically opened his banking app on his phone, to check how much had actually been deposited. It just might prove to be the saving grace for him. With people threatening lawsuits left and right, he was going to need Henry’s inheritance.

“Can you please pay attention to me when I’m talking, Brian,” his wife was saying.

He held up a finger.“Just one moment. It’s the police.” He frowned when he saw that no money had been added to the Happy Home account. “I don’t see anything,” he told Detective Kingsley. “Are you sure this notary got the correct account?”

“Henry left precise instructions,” said the detective. “And those include the bank account and the sum total that was to be deposited. Ten million, to be precise.”

Ten million! Now that kind of windfall was exactly the good news he needed at that moment.“Nope, I didn’t get it,” he said. “Nothing.”

“I’ll check with the notary again,” said the detective, even though clearly it wasn’t the police’s business to handle such trivial matters, and Brian could hear it in the inflection of the man’s voice.

“Thank you, detective,” he said therefore, using his most unctuous tone. “Much obliged.”

He disconnected, and placed his hands on his desk. With ten million in the bank, he suddenly felt more than ready to face any legal challenge, and even his vengeful wife!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Chase was frowning when he hung up the phone. He didn’t like this business of having to play go-between for Brian Brooks and Henry’s estate. But sometimes putting a case to bed required doing things that were out of his comfort zone. Like calling back Henry’s notary, and asking him to double-check if that money had actually been transferred.

“Oh, absolutely, detective,” said Al Powell. “I gave the order to the bank this morning, and they said they were going to handle it forthwith. Though knowing banks like I do, it might take a couple of days before the money will show up in Mr. Brooks’s account. So you can tell him from me that he shouldn’t worry. The money will arrive within the next few days.”

Chase nodded to himself, wrote down the name of the bank, and the account number Henry had used, and then sat back for a moment, staring before him. A hunch told him he might as well follow this up all the way. He wouldn’t be able to get started on his next case if he didn’t. And so he picked up the phone again and called Henry’s bank.

“Yes, sir, the money was transferred out of Mr. Kaur’s account this morning,” a friendly female voice informed him.

“So is it normal that it hasn’t arrived yet?” he asked.

“It should be there,” said the woman. “Nowadays money transfers are cleared in a matter of seconds, not days.”

“Can you give me the account number? I’ll follow up with the recipient Brian Brooks.”

“Brian Brooks? That’s not the name I have, detective,” said the woman. “I have listed a ‘Daffodil Holdings’ as the recipient.” She gave him the account number, which didn’t look anything like the account number Brian had given him.

“Is that Capital First in Hampton Cove?”

“Oh, no, detective. It’s the ASBC Bank. That’s in the Cayman Islands.”

“Cayman Islands?”

“Yes, sir. And it’s not the first time we’ve handled payments to that bank either—all of them under the instructions of the same notary’s office. About twelve different transactions over the past three years.”

“Twelve transactions? And all instigated by Al Powell?”

“Yes, detective, that’s right. Why? Is there some irregularity?”

“Let me get back to you on that,” he grunted, and hung up. He rubbed his face. Now what the hell was going on here?

42

A phone call put a damper on the good news that we were going home. Gran was the one who picked up, and after listening for a moment, she said,“All right. I’ll see what we can find out.” She hung up and turned to Scarlett. “Better stop packing, hon. That was Odelia. She’s not going to come and pick us up just yet.”

“But why?” asked Scarlett, who was just putting her extensive collection of shoes back into her bulky suitcase.

“Because there’s a fly in the ointment,” said Gran.

Dooley’s eyes widened. “A fly in the ointment!” he said. “What ointment! What fly!”

“It’s just an expression,” said Gran. “It means something is wrong. Turns out that Henry’s money was sent to a bank in the Cayman Islands, and has promptly vanished without a trace. The account is registered to Daffodil Holdings, and could or could not be connected to Brian. Brian claims he never received that money, and so now Chase wants to know where it is. Oh, and also, twelve more payments went into that same account in the past three years, and all of them came from the same notary. One Al Powell.”

“So ask Powell,” said Scarlett. “He’ll know.”

“That’s exactly what Chase did. Mr. Powell told him that all twelve payments are connected to Happy Home residents who died. Twelve deaths, twelve inheritances, all pledged to Happy Home and its general manager Brian Brooks. But as far as Chase could determine—he’s going to need a warrant if he wants to dig deeper into Brian’s bank account—none of those sums ever made it into the Happy Home account. Or at least that’s what Brian says.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Scarlett, her cherished footwear collection momentarily forgotten. “Thirteen residents died in the past three years, and all of them left their money to Happy Home. Only instead of being deposited into the Happy Home bank account, the money went into some mysterious Cayman Island account. And Brian claims he has no clue?”

“Brian claims he never got any of those monies.”

“But how is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But Chase wants us to dig a little deeper. Ask around.” She sighed a happy little sigh. “So it looks like our stay has been extended, you guys.”

“Whoopee,” said Dooley sadly. “And here I thought we were finally going home.”

“I better start unpacking again,” said Scarlett, who didn’t seem to mind. “So what am I going to wear tomorrow? And the day after tomorrow? Choices, choices…”

“I hadn’t even started packing,” said Gran. “Shows you how good my intuition is. I knew this case wasn’t over yet. I just knew it!”

“So what’s going on, exactly?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t know,” said Brutus. “Something to do with money that was paid into the wrong account or something. Sounds to me like something they should talk to the bank about.”

“Yeah, probably some kind of administrative error,” said Harriet.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Sounds to me as if Brian isn’t just a serial philanderer, but also a crook.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thirteen residents leaving their money to him? And he claims he didn’t receive anything? I think our Mr. Brooks is getting rich by collecting these inheritances.”

And since Gran and Scarlett clearly thought the same thing, they gathered the Murder Club.

Liz and her husband and sister were over the moon when they told them the news.

“Oh, goodie!” said Liz. “Another big juicy case!”

“I knew there was something fishy about Brian,” Bill grunted as he put down his newspaper. “He reminds me of crooked politicians. Smarmy and good-looking, but full of lies and ready to put their hands in your pocket when you’re not looking.”

“I think that’s bankers, sweetie,” said his wife.

“Bankers, politicians, all the same thing,” Bill grumbled, clearly not a big fan of either. “So what do you want us to do, Janelle? Or should I call you Vesta now?”

“Better stick to Janelle,” said Gran. “It’s our cover, after all.”

“I like it,” said Liz, giving her a wink. “Just like one of them spy movies!”

“We need to find out if Brian has been cheating people out of their inheritance,” said Gran, “and pocketing the money.”

“You mean this Cayman Islands account might be his?” asked Olivia. “This… Daffodil Holdings?”

“Who else could it be?” said Gran. “It’s a great racket, I have to give him that. First he sweet-talks these people, probably gives them some line about Happy Home being in financial trouble. And so he gets them to make a new will, leaving everything to him. Only instead of having the moneymade out to the happy Home account, the transfer goes to his private account in the Cayman Islands.”

“Nice racket when you can get it,” Bill agreed. “But how are we going to find out if this account belongs to Brian?”

“Simple,” said Liz, her eyes shiny with excitement. “We break into his office and check his computer!”

“Wait a minute,” said Olivia. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Who cares! This man is a crook! He’s been scamming residents for years. But if we can catch him, he’ll go to prison, and then all of the money he scammed will be returned to the families of the residents who died, or Happy Home, if that’s what they wanted.”

“According to Al Powell—that’s the notary who’s been handling the Happy Home account—none of these residents had any relatives,” said Gran. “Which is probably why Brian targeted them in the first place.”

“The man is evil,” said Liz. “Pure evil!”

And she was probably right. As things now looked, it didn’t paint Brian in a favorable light. But so far nothing had been proven. And as they say: innocent until proven guilty. Though if it was up to Murder Club, it wouldn’t be long before they did prove it.

43

Through long association with the leader of Happy Home for the Elderly, Brian was very particular about his lunch hour. He always took it, no matter what, and so at twelve o’clock sharp, the five members of Murder Club—and four cats—were waiting around the corner of his office until the man could be seen taking his break.

We didn’t have to wait long, and soon Brian and Dee came passing by, both deep in conversation—so deep that they didn’t even see us.

“Looks like they’ve got a lot to talk about,” Brutus commented.

“Sara said she was going to tell her husband personally that she wanted a divorce,” I said. “So she probably dropped by this morning to give him the news.”

“And now Brian is telling Dee, who’ll be happy to know that her affair with her boss might bloom into a marriage very soon,” said Harriet.

Somehow I doubted that. Philanderers make bad husbands, and Brian had promised Dee he was going to marry her so many times now I just didn’t see it happening.

“So how do we get in?” asked Olivia as we paused in front of Brian’s door.

“We’ve been here before,” said Gran, taking out her trusty burglary set.

“And you’ve proved how you can’t get that thing to work!” said Scarlett. “So give it a rest already, Vesta. And let’s find some other way in.”

“Your trick with the credit card didn’t do us a lot of good either,” Gran grumbled.

“I think I know a way to get in,” said Bill, and took a key from his pocket. He then inserted that key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door! “Voila,” he said triumphantly. “It’s the master key that opens all the doors in the building,” he explained. “Desmond gave it to me when I lost my own key. He told me not to mention it to Brian, cause residents are not supposed to possess one of these babies. And of course I kept it—and kept my mouth shut!” He grinned as he accepted the admiration of his fellow Murder Club members. “And now let’s find that evidence, shallwe?”

“One of us should stay here and stand guard,” said Liz.

“I’ll do it,” said Olivia. “I don’t know anything about computers anyway.”

I could have suggested that one of us stood guard, but the Murder Club wasn’t supposed to know that Gran could talk to her cats, so I wisely kept my tongue.

Once inside, we quickly moved into Brian’s office, and Bill settled down behind the man’s computer, cracked his knuckles, and went to work.

“Do you know a lot about computers?” asked Scarlett, who didn’t know the first thing about the devices. “Only I’ve got a great-nephew who’s a real computer whiz. And if you want I could give him a call. I’ll bet he could get us into this thing ASAP.”

“I’m in already,” said Bill. “He didn’t even turn it off, or log out.” He had put on his reading glasses, and started clicking here and there.

The others conducted their investigation the old-fashioned way: by checking drawers, and looking through files and binders and notebooks.

“It’s almost one o’clock,” Scarlett said after a while. “Brian will be back soon.”

“Any luck, Bill?” asked Gran.

“Nothing,” the man grunted. “I’ve found his bank statements, but I don’t see anything suspicious. Though I don’t think he keeps his personal bank stuff on this computer. He probably has a second one at home for his personal finances.”

“Yeah, I can’t find anything incriminating either,” said Liz. “Nothing in these files.”

Scarlett and Gran, who’d been going through Dee’s files, announced that they hadn’t found anything either.

“I would very much like to check Dee’s computer,” said Bill, abandoning his search of Brian’s PC. “But it looks like we’ve run out of time.” He tapped the space bar on Dee’s computer. “No, she locked it. She’s a lot smarter than her boss.”

“I could call Kevin,” Scarlett suggested. “He could get us in, I’m sure of it.”

But just at that moment, Olivia called out,“They’re coming!”

Looked like our time was up, and so we hurriedly left the office, Bill making sure to close the door again with his master key, and then making ourselves scarce.

“A big failure for Murder Club,” Liz lamented as we walked away. We passed Brian and Dee in the hallway, but once more they were too deep in conversation to bother with us. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Now we’re going to tell Chase that we didn’t find anything on Brian’s computer, and that he needs to get going on that warrant,” said Gran. She patted a disconsolate Liz on the back. “It’s all right, Liz. We did what we could. What more can they ask of us? We aren’t cops, after all, just a bunch of amateurs.”

“A bunch of amateurs who found Henry’s killer,” Olivia pointed out.

“There’s nothing on Brian’s computer,” said Bill. “And nothing in his office. So at least that’s something.”

“That’s nothing,” said Liz, quite correctly.

“It shows us that Brian has covered his tracks,” said Bill. “And that he’s a formidable adversary. And so I think we better leave the rest to the police.”

“There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” said Gran. And when the others all turned to her expectantly, she said, “Who knows all there is to know about Brian’s affairs? The guy’s personal assistant. So why don’t I try and talk to Dee? She might be more accommodating than we think. Especially when I tell her about her boss’s deception.”

“Dee is notoriously loyal,” said Liz. “Don’t ask me why, but she adores Brian.”

“Yeah, I once complained to her about Brian,” said Bill. “And she practically bit my nose off. She’s not just loyal. She’s obsessed with the guy.”

“Still, it’s worth a shot,” said Gran with a shrug. “I mean, what have we got to lose?”

Liz gave Gran a look filled with admiration.“You’re my personal hero, Janelle. Absolutely my personal hero.”

44

When Vesta stepped into Dee’s office—the same office she had just left—she could tell immediately that this wasn’t a good time for the PA. Dee’s eyes were red-rimmed and she had clearly been crying.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I can come back later if you want.”

“You won’t find me here later,” said Dee, as she pressed a tissue against her eyes. “I was fired. Can you imagine? Fifteen years I’ve been here. Fifteen years of doing everything for that man, and now he says it’s over.”

“You mean…” said Vesta, moving further into the office and closing the door behind her.

Dee nodded.“Not only did he fire me from my job, he also fired me from his life. Says he wants to try and make things work with Sara. That he’s neglected his family for too long, and he doesn’t want to lose his kids. So that’s it for me! Put out with the trash!”

“Oh, dear,” said Vesta with feeling. Having had a husband like Brian once, she knew what kind of man he was. “These cheaters are not good husband material,” she said, taking a seat in front of the personal assistant’s desk. “So I think you should count yourself lucky that you got out ofit with your dignity intact.” And without a couple of kids who would never know their dad.

“But I love him, Janelle!” Dee wailed. “I know I shouldn’t. Not after what he put me through. First with Gladys, and now this. But I can’t help it. I just love him so much!”

Vesta glanced to the door to the inner office, and hoped Brian wouldn’t suddenly show up.

“He’s not here,” said Dee, interpreting Vesta’s glance correctly. “He’s gone to meet his wife’s lawyer. Try to argue his case for a reconciliation.”

“There was actually something I wanted to ask you,” said Vesta, wondering how to broach this very delicate subject, especially at a time like this. “It’s about Brian’s finances.”

“Shoot,” said Dee. “Though if it’s about his personal finances, you should probably talk to his accountant. Unless he’s having an affair with her as well. Which wouldn’t surprise me one bit!” And she started sniffing again.

“Would you happen to know if Brian set up a company named Daffodil Holdings? It’s officially registered in the Cayman Islands.”

Dee sniffed some more.“Never heard of it. And it belongs to Brian?”

“I’m not sure. It’s possible. Or even likely. You see, the money from Henry’s inheritance? It went straight into that company’s bank account. And so now I was wondering what the connection with Brian could be.”

Dee frowned.“So what are you? Some kind of private investigator all of a sudden? I mean, I don’t want to seem rude or anything, but what’s it to you, Janelle? Or was Henry a relation of yours or something?”

“No, he wasn’t. I guess I’m just naturally curious,” she said with a light shrug.

“Well, I’ve never heard of this company, and I don’t know anything about any payments made to Brian from Henry Kaur’s account. But like I said, if you want to know more, better check with his accountant. She’s been handling Brian’s private affairs as well as the Happy Home account for many years. At least as long as I’ve been with him.” She slumped a little. “Now what am I going to do, Janelle? I’m forty years old, and I’ve been in love with a married man all my life, and now I’m unemployed, and he’s just dumped me for his wife!”

Vesta comforted Dee as best she could, though there wasn’t a lot she could say. She did wonder if she was telling the truth, but she had the impression she was. In fact, much as she hated to say it, this was probably the best time to ask these kinds of questions. One day before, Dee would have been the most loyal PA on the planet. But now there were definite cracks in her loyalty. Cracks that Brian had inflicted himself.

She excused herself, and wished Dee all the best in her future endeavors. She then repeated her conviction that Brian dismissing her was actually a good thing, even though she didn’t see it that way now. In the long run she was sure Dee would realize she had been wasting her time with the guy. Both professionally and personally.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Chase received the news that Odelia’s team hadn’t found anything in Brian’s office with equanimity. He’d already tracked down the man’s accountant, and was about to call her when Vesta got on the horn to deliver her report from the front lines at Happy Home.

“Dee says she doesn’t know anything about any money being deposited into her boss’s account,” said Vesta. “And honestly? I’m inclined to believe her. She also told me to talk to the accountant. Accountants always know.”

“I’m one step ahead of you, Vesta,” said Chase. “I was just about to call her when you rang.”

“Then don’t let me keep you,” said Vesta, and asked to keep her informed.

The accountant proved most useful, especially when he told her he could get a warrant if he wanted to.

“That won’t be necessary, detective,” said Miss Fisher. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

In a few words he explained the details of the case, and the kind of information he needed from her. Her answer was swift.

“The accounts for Happy Home are sound, but the company isn’t exactly swimming in money. So no, the kind of sums you mention never found their way into the Happy Home account. And neither, before you ask me, in Mr. Brooks’s personal account. Yes, I handle his personal account as well, and histax declarations. And I can assure you that even though Mr. Brooks is well-off, he is not a millionaire, nor has he ever received such substantial sums.”

“And he’s not the owner of a company named Daffodil Holdings, registered in the Cayman Islands?”

She was quiet for a moment, and when she resumed speech, sounded a lot more cautious than before.“Not that I’m aware of, detective.”

“And no payments have ever been made from Daffodil Holdings to bank accounts controlled by Brian Brooks?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said, and then added, “Okay, so maybe you should get that warrant. Just to make sure everything is handled correctly.” And then she hung up.

And somehow Chase had the impression that the next person Miss Fisher was going to call was her client Brian Brooks, urgently advising him to contact a lawyer.

45

When Odelia called Gran, giving her more instructions, we knew that this time it was something big. Judging from Gran’s expression, whatever was going on was in fact huge.

The moment she disconnected, she stared before her for a moment, then turned to Scarlett.“Now get a load of this. Chase talked to Brian’s accountant, and she claims that she never heard of this Daffodil Holdings business, or the Cayman Islands. She also claims that no extra funds were ever transferred into Brian’s personal bank account, or Happy Home’s bank account. But Al Powell said that thirteen residents—Henry included—left their inheritance to the home, and that he personally gave their banks instructions to transfer that money. So where are those funds?”

“Gone without a trace?” said Scarlett.

“And listen to this. Chase also talked to the doctor who issued the death certificates in all of those cases, and the doc claims that all of them died from natural causes. But when Chase insisted, and asked if it was possible that they were smothered in their sleep, same way Henry was smothered, he admitted it was possible, though unlikely, cause he would have noticed if their deaths were suspicious.”

“So they could have been murdered?” asked Scarlett. “All of them?”

“Chase posed the question to Abe, who said it’s notoriously difficult to pick up the difference between someone who died of natural causes and someone who’s been smothered—if you do it correctly. But if you apply the correct technique, the only way to know if someone was smothered is by performing an autopsy.”

“And let me guess. In none of those twelve cases an autopsy was done?”

“Nope. Because our dear old doc didn’t think anything was wrong. People die all the time, he told Chase. How was he to know that there was anything fishy going on?”

“It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is,” said Scarlett. “So who killed these people? Brian?”

“Chase figures that Brian and Desmond were in cahoots. Desmond did the dirty work—remember he was a big, strong fellow—and Brian selected the victims, based on their familial and financial situation, and took care of the paperwork.”

“Forged their wills, you mean.”

Gran nodded.“He selected residents who didn’t have any relatives, to avoid suspicion, but also to make sure no one would complain when the beneficiary of their will was the home. And also, as the general manager he had an intimate knowledge of these people’s financial situation, so he only picked the most affluent ones.”

“So people came here expecting to enjoy their golden years in comfort, and instead they were killed and their money stolen,” said Scarlett, summing things up succinctly. “So what happened to Desmond, you think? Did Brian shove him down the stairs?”

“It’s possible,” Gran acknowledged. “The number-one rule in this type of fraud is not to showcase your wealth too much. Keep it under the radar and not attract attention. But Desmond was flaunting his wealth, wasn’t he? Buying that expensive car, that expensive watch. Sooner or later he was going to draw suspicion to himself, and then Brian would be in the frame alongside his accomplice. So it’s not inconceivable that Brian decided to get rid of the guy before the jig was up.”

“Good thing they didn’t murder us,” said Scarlett.

“We’re not rich, honey. They weren’t interested in us. And also, we have relatives, so we didn’t fit the profile.”

“So what’s going to happen now?”

“Now they want us to talk to the other residents—discreetly, of course—and find out more about these twelve other people who died.”

“This case keeps getting more and more complicated,” said Scarlett. “If I’d known we were entering the lion’s den, I would have taken precautions.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like bringing along some kind of weapon to defend ourselves!”

Gran smiled and pointed to the four of us, who were listening intently to their conversation.“We’ve got the best defense against these criminals possible. Just let them try something, and my cats will be all over them!”

They left the room, to go and have a series of chats with Liz and the others, and try to build a profile of the twelve residents who had died by Brian and Desmond’s hand.

“This is just terrible,” said Harriet. “And here I thought the worst Brian was guilty of was adultery. Now it turns out he’s a serial killer and a thief as well?”

“Just goes to show that he put up a good front,” said Brutus, who seemed dismayed that he hadn’t been able to see through Brian’s facade.

“Poor people,” said Dooley. “They probably didn’t expect to be murdered in their sleep when they signed up for their stay here.”

“Nobody ever expects to be murdered, Dooley,” I pointed out. “And at least the murders will stop now that Desmond is gone.”

“So odd that nobody noticed anything,” said Harriet. “I mean, twelve people died and nobody suspected a thing?”

“Brian is good,” said Brutus. “He’s very good.”

“I think he was bad,” said Dooley. “Very bad. It’s wrong to murder people, Brutus,” he told our butch friend sternly. “It’s very wrong.”

“Oh, I know. I just meant—”

“And you shouldn’t defend a murderer, just because you happen to like them.”

“No, but what I meant was—”

“You can’t let your personal sympathy for the man stand in the way of justice,” Dooley continued. “He did a bad thing, and now he will have to suffer the consequences.”

“Look, I know that murder is wrong, all right!” said Brutus. “What I meant was that Brian must be some kind of master criminal to be able to get away with this for so long.”

“I wonder what happened to all of that money,” said Harriet. “We’re probably talking millions, right? And there’s not a single trace of it? That can’t be right, right?”

“It isn’t right,” I said. “But Cayman Island banks are known for their discretion. Plenty of people probably keep their ill-gotten gains in those banks, with no one any the wiser.”

“Chase will get it out of him,” said Dooley. “Brian may be a master criminal, but Chase is a master cop. He’ll get the truth out of that man, I’m absolutely sure of it.”

46

The members of Murder Club were especially excited to discover that the home had harbored a pair of ruthless murderers all these years.

“A serial killer? Here at Happy Home? No way,” said Liz, who couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And Brian and Desmond were working together to murder residents? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t believe it,” said Olivia. “Brian is not a murderer. He’s such a nice person. I just can’t believe he would do such a terrible thing.”

“People will do anything for money, Liv. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“I know, but not Brian. He’s so nice. He always asked me how I was feeling, and when I had that bad cough last year, he came to check on me every day, and told the doctor to take good care of me. A man like that can’t be a killer.”

“He probably wanted to keep you alive long enough to fake your will,” said Liz.

“He wouldn’t have targeted you,” said Gran. “Since you have relatives who’d get suspicious if you suddenly decided to leave everything to Happy Home.”

“And also, we’re not rich,” said Bill.

“Yeah, looks like they were only targeting residents with money,” said Scarlett.

“Poor people,” said Liz. “I knew a few of them. Not all twelve, but still a fair few.”

“Do you remember when they died?” asked Gran, keeping her mission in mind.

“Not really,” said Liz. “I mean, I know that they died, of course, but I wasn’t especially close to any of them, to be honest.”

“Neither was I,” said Olivia. “They seemed to keep themselves to themselves.”

“They didn’t keep themselves to themselves,” said Bill. “They were in pretty bad shape, that’s all. They didn’t leave their rooms because they were mostly bedridden. And so when they died, it didn’t register, since they’d been ill for such a long time.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” said his wife. “That’s probably why I can’t remember any details.”

“Still, even though they were ill, that doesn’t give Brian and Desmond the right to murder them,” said Olivia. “And to steal their money and their possessions.”

“I wonder if Dee knew,” said Liz now. “I mean, she knew everything else that was going on here, so why not this?”

“She claims she wasn’t involved in the financial decisions,” said Gran. “That Brian trusted his accountant to take care of that.”

“Is this the same accountant who claims that everything was on the up and up?” asked Bill, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yeah, one and the same,” said Gran. “Though Chase told me she’s lawyering up. So maybe she knows more than she’s letting on.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” Bill grunted. “Politicians, bankers, accountants… all cut from the same cloth.”

“Looks like this cop of yours has his work cut out for him,” said Liz. “You think he’s up for the job?”

“Oh, yes,” said Gran. “If anyone can get Brian to confess, it’s Chase. That kid is an ace!”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“He’s denying everything!” said Chase later that evening when he dropped by. To avoid attention and speculation, he and Odelia had entered through the window, just like before. “Says he doesn’t know anything about any suspicious deaths, or about any inheritances, and he most definitely does not have a bank account in the Cayman Islands. He says he’s being framed.”

“He’s lying, though, isn’t he?” asked Gran.

“Of course he’s lying,” Chase grunted. “But I’ll get him to confess. I just need more time, and more information. What did your residents have to say?”

“Nothing special,” said Gran. “I talked to a couple of them, and all they remember is that these twelve were mostly bedridden, and rarely showed their faces in the cafeteria or at public events like bingo night.”

“Their deaths don’t seem to have attracted any attention or suspicion,” Scarlett added. “They were here, nobody noticed them much, and then they died. Almost as if Brian and his accomplice committed the perfect crime.”

“I’m wondering now if the doctor wasn’t in on it,” said Odelia. “I mean, to issue twelve death certificates and not once alert the authorities that there’s something suspicious about these deaths. That strikes me as particularly fishy.”

“It certainly does,” Gran agreed. “If I were you I’d arrest this doctor, and grill him. And check his bank account. If he was in on it, he must have been paid for his services.”

“We’ve checked Desmond’s bank account, and Brian’s, and so far haven’t been able to find a trace of the money,” said Chase unhappily.

“He probably has a secret bank account,” said Odelia. “One that we’re not aware of yet.”

“We searched his office, his home…” said Chase. “We talked to Dee, talked to Brian’s wife… Nothing.”

“It must be somewhere,” said Scarlett. “He must have been able to draw those funds.”

“How did Desmond pay for that fancy car of his?” asked Gran.

“Cash,” said Chase. “Turns out he was an inveterate online gambler, and had a windfall last year. Squared away almost a hundred thousand, which he spent on that car and that watch—which he bought second-hand, by the way. No evidence that he ever received any money from Brian, aside from hispaycheck.”

“So what are you telling us?” asked Gran.

“I’m telling you that the investigation is proceeding slowly,” said Chase, getting up. “And that I’m not giving up. I know that Brian is behind this whole thing. And if I have to go to the Cayman Islands and personally drag the truth from these bankers, I will.”

“He won’t,” Odelia assured us. “Uncle Alec told us he doesn’t have the budget for such a trip. He said first to gather more evidence, and then he’ll decide. Plus, we would need a court order, for which we also need more evidence, so…”

“So what, you can kill people and steal money and hide it and nobody can do a thing about it?” said Gran.

“Unless I have conclusive evidence that Brian set up that bank account, there’s not much I can do,” said Chase. “And since the guy isn’t cooperating…”

“Chase looks sad, Max,” said Dooley.

“That’s because his investigation isn’t going anywhere,” I said. “And when a cop has collared a suspect, but he can’t prove the suspect’s guilt, it’s very frustrating.”

“So what does this mean for us?” asked Harriet. “Can we leave now, or do we have to stay here?”

Odelia, who had heard Harriet’s question, smiled down at us. “I think you can leave now. There’s nothing you can do for us here.”

“We can leave?” asked Scarlett, her voice betraying her excitement. “We can finally go home?”

“We are home, Scarlett,” said Gran. “This is our happy home!”

“Oh, no, it’s not,” said Scarlett. “Any home where a serial killer is allowed to run amok is not a happy home to me!”

“We’re going home!” said Harriet happily.

And I had to admit the prospect of leaving this place filled me with joy. It might be a happy home for some, but our happy home was somewhere else entirely.

“And so our adventure endeth,” said Brutus, suddenly becoming lyrical. “And a wonderful job was done by all.”

“Not such a good job,” I pointed out. “The killer hasn’t confessed, we don’t have any evidence linking him to the case, so chances are that he might not get charged.”

“The case is closed for us,” said Harriet. “The rest is up to Chase. And since I have absolute confidence in that man, we can rest easy now.”

Oddly enough, rest easy was the last thing I could do. Somehow I had the distinct impression that we’d missed something. But what?

47

“We did good,” Scarlett assured her friend.

“You think? I’m not so sure,” said Vesta.

“What are you talking about? We caught a serial killer. Thirteen people dead. And who knows how many more would have died if we hadn’t caught him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Vesta. Somehow she was still feeling restless, and for the life of her she couldn’t have said why. Scarlett was right. They had caught a vicious killer, and had saved who knows how many lives in the process. So then why didn’t she want to go home yet? Why did she feel as if their work wasn’t done? Was there some clue they still needed to find?

Chase and his team had searched Brian’s office top to bottom, and the digital forensics team had gone through his computer with a fine-tooth comb. If there was anything at Happy Home that hadn’t been found, it certainly wouldn’t be found by them—a couple of rank amateurs.

She watched her cats as they talked amongst themselves, excited that finally they were going home. The only one who didn’t seem pleased was Max, but then Max was basically a deep thinker, and rarely prone to extreme emotions the way Harriet was: pure joy or abject despair. That cat had learned to take the bad with the good, and looked at things from a philosophical point of view. They could all learn from him.

“What do you think, Max?” she asked now. “Did we do a good job here or not?”

“Oh, I think we did a great job,” said Max immediately.

She sensed there was a but.“But…”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t put my digit on it, but I have the feeling there’s something we’re missing.”

“I feel the same way,” she said, gratified that their brainiest feline agreed with her. “But what is it?”

“Beats me,” he said with a shrug.

“I guess we’ll just have to trust Chase and Odelia. They’ll figure it out.”

“Absolutely,” he said, though he didn’t look convinced, and neither was she.

A gentle tap at the window had them all look up. To her surprise it was Kingman, Wilbur Vickery’s cat. The sprawling piebald sat perched on the windowsill looking annoyed.

She quickly opened the window again—which was getting more visitor action than the door—and Kingman deigned to enter the room. He glanced around and sniffed. “Not too shabby,” he said. “Honestly, I expected worse.” He sniffed again. “What’s that smell?”

“It isn’t me!” Brutus cried. “I’ve been burying my doo-doo and wee-wee well!”

“And still I smell it,” said Kingman sternly.

“I haven’t kept up with litter box duties,” said Gran. “But in my defense, I’ve had a lot on my mind these past couple of days.”

“Who’s this cat now?” asked Scarlett.

“Kingman. Wilbur’s cat.”

“Oh, right. I thought I’d seen him before. So many cats in Hampton Cove. How do you keep track of them all?”

“Easy. They’re all friends, and chat all the time. You keep track of your friends, don’t you?”

“I guess,” said Scarlett dubiously. This whole talking to cats thing had always struck her as strange. Probably the way it would strike a lot of people as strange, if only they knew about it.

Vesta decided to pop out for a quick chat with the neighbors. If they were leaving tomorrow, she wanted to say goodbye. Some of these people had become friends in the short space of time they’d been there. Like Bob and Ester, and also Liz and Olivia and Bill. In fact she could imagine herself sticking around here longer. Then again, she had actually missed Marge and Tex, and would be happy to see them again. There simply was no place like home.

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“So what brings you all the way out here, Kingman?” asked Brutus.

“I’m bored,” the big cat announced. “With you guys being cooped up in here, cat choir hasn’t been the same, and I miss our daily chats in front of the store.”

“We’ll be out of here tomorrow,” said Harriet. “The case is closed—or at least as far as we’re concerned—so we’re going home!”

“Great news,” said Kingman. “So what is it you’ve been doing here, exactly? Cause I’ve got to tell you that the craziest stories have been doing the rounds. Some cats are saying that you’ve moved in here permanently, because of old age, and that we’ll never see you again. Others thinkthat Vesta has finally lost her last marble, and you need to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t escape.”

“Neither of those stories is true,” I said. “Gran isn’t crazy—well, not that crazy, at least—and we haven’t moved here permanently.”

“We’ve been working on a case,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, a pretty tough case,” Brutus chimed in. “We had to spy on a guy who was cheating on his wife with two different women. And I gotta tell you, Kingman—it was brutal, buddy. I’m talking pure torture!”

“We actually had to watch…” Harriet’s voice choked. “Had to watch through the window…” She shook her head. “I can’t. The wound is still too fresh.”

“It was hell,” Brutus confided in the big cat. “Absolute hell.”

“And we had to spy on a man who was posing a threat to a woman’s daughter,” said Dooley. “But then the man was murdered, and that was the end of our mission, since he didn’t pose a threat anymore, since he was dead.”

“But then we got a new mission,” I said. “We had to figure out who killed the guy. And we did. More or less.” I decided not to explain the rest of the story, since it got a little complicated, and I could tell that Kingman was bored already. He wanted to shoot the breeze and spread some gossip, not get into the weeds of a murder investigation.

“And Wilbur got scammed,” he said as he darted a quick look at our food bowls, then turned away again. Kingman gets the best food in town, and it shows in his size. “Scammed by a tax collector!”

“A tax collector?” said Brutus. “I didn’t know they scammed people.”

“Well, this wasn’t a real tax collector. She was pretending to be one. And of course Wilbur fell for it, hook, line and sinker! She was very pretty, which may have had something to do with it.”

“With Wilbur, it usually has,” I said with a smile. Wilbur is a sucker for a pretty face. Being a bachelor, he’s always on the lookout for the love of his life. But since he falls in love about a dozen times a day, it’s hard for him to find ‘the one’ among them.

“So what happened, exactly?” asked Brutus.

“Well, she came into the store yesterday, claiming to work for our local IRS office, and said there were some irregularities with his account and could he give her access to his banking information so she could set the matter straight before he was fined with some huge penalties. And of course Wilbur said ‘Absolutely’ and gave her everything: his bank account number, codes, anything and everything.”

“And so she plundered his account,” said Brutus, who had heard this story before, as had we all.

“Well, lucky for Wilbur a very alert individual at the bank must have noticed that large sums of money were suddenly being transferred out of Wilbur’s business account, and put a block on it, called Wilbur to check if everything was on the up and up, and when Wilbur said it wasn’t him, they made sure this so-called tax collector was locked out. They also locked down Wilbur’s account for the time being, in case these scammers tried to withdraw the money from an ATM, or make any payments. They also reset his code and told him never, ever to give his codes and account details to anyone ever again.”

“So Wilbur was saved from his own mistake,” said Harriet in conclusion. She shook her head. “This could only happen to your human, Kingman.”

“Oh, no. You’d be surprised how often this happens,” said Kingman. “The person at the bank said these scammers are making a lot of victims and it’s costing people all over the country millions every year. It’s a real plague.”

“She must have been very charming to swindle Wilbur out of his banking details,” said Harriet.

“She was,” said Kingman. “A regular confidence trickster if I ever saw one.”

“Like Brian,” Brutus grunted. “He was also very charming, until he started murdering his residents.”

“Oh, well,” said Kingman. “Let’s hope Wilbur learned his lesson. Next time he might not be so lucky. Though I doubt whether he realizes the extent to which…” He gave me an odd look. “Why are you looking at me like that, Max?”

“I—I think I just had an idea,” I said.

“Don’t be alarmed, Max,” said Brutus with a grin. “I get ideas all the time, and it’s never done me any harm.”

“How long has Brian been here?” I asked.

“Fifteen years,” said Harriet. “Why?”

“And these deaths—when did it all start?”

“Um… three years ago?”

I frowned.“So if Brian has been running this place for fifteen years, why wait so long to start murdering his residents and taking their money?”

“Unless this has been going on for much longer,” said Brutus. “And we’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg. Great thinking, Max! We should tell Chase!”

“Or maybe something happened three years ago,” said Harriet, “that caused Brian to suddenly need a lot of money. When did his affair with Dee start?”

“Also fifteen years ago,” said Brutus.

“So that can’t be it,” said Harriet.

“How about his affair with Gladys?” asked Brutus. “That didn’t start fifteen years ago, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” I said. “But Gladys is a rich woman in her own right. Brian wouldn’t need money to buy her expensive presents or whatever.”

“He might not have wanted to be outdone by her wealth,” said Harriet. “Wanted to be on par with her, not enter the relationship as a poor man.”

“It’s possible,” I admitted. Though somehow the explanation didn’t convince me. No, something else was going on, and Kingman’s explanation had given me an idea. It was an outrageous idea, which is why I wasn’t feeling entirely at ease sharing it with anyone just yet, but definitely an idea.

And since walking always helps me think, I decided to go for a stroll in the corridor. And I had been going up and down a couple of times when I bumped into Liz. Literally, actually, since I hadn’t seen her, deep in thought as I was, and bumped into her leg.

“Oh, aren’t you a cutie pie,” said the old lady and leader of Murder Club. She bent down and tickled me under my chin. “So is it true that Vesta can talk to you?” When I stared at her in shock, she placed a finger to her lips. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret. And anyway, who would believe me? They’d simply think I’m crazy!” She smiled and patted me on the head. “Nice kitty. Nice little kitty.” And was on her way.

I have to say it alarmed me to some extent. People aren’t supposed to know about Gran’s special gift. And mostly she was careful not to let anyone find out. Liz must have accidentally noticed, which is what happens when you live in such close proximity to a bunch of other people. Then again, I didn’t think we were in any immediate danger of beingfound out. Like Liz said, who would believe her?

48

That night I was resting peacefully when all of a sudden a sound put me on high alert. As if there was someone else in the room with us. But of course there was someone else in the room: Gran and Scarlett and my three friends. It didn’t take me long for my eyes to get adjusted to the darkness, and when I looked up, I suddenly saw a dark figure hovering over me. Something flashed in the darkness, and when I looked closer, I saw that this figure was holding what looked like a knife in its hand!

“Max, watch out!” suddenly Dooley cried.

In a reflex movement, I rolled over onto my side, and even as I watched, I saw the knife plunge into the pillow, exactly in the spot where I’d been lying moments before!

Close by, there was a yell as Scarlett cried,“Vesta! Now!”

And as someone hit the light switch, suddenly the room was bathed in brightness. The figure hovering over me cursed and closed her eyes. Realizing the game was up, she made for the door, where she met Brutus and Harriet, who were hissing and making threatening noises, and looking very dangerous indeed!

Next to the bed where Gran slept, a second figure was grappling with Scarlett. But then Gran took out the pepper spray Chase had brought before we went to bed, and released a long plume of the noxious substance, straight into the man’s eyes!

He howled in pain, and as he clutched at his eyes, Scarlett knocked him over the head with the baseball bat she had lying in readiness for just this exact contingency. It was also a present from Chase, supplied along with the can of pepper spray.

The door to the room now burst open, and a third person walked in. When she saw what was going on, she seemed surprised. Things clearly weren’t going well!

And since Scarlett was aiming a rather large and bright orange flare gun at her chest, she immediately stuck her hands into the air, and so did her sister.

“If it isn’t the Murder Club,” said Gran, as she stared daggers at Liz and Bill and Olivia. Bill was lying face up on the bedside rug, passed out, but Liz and Olivia were still conscious, and decent enough to look both apprehensive and guilty.

“I’m sorry,” said Liz ruefully. “We didn’t want to do it, but I knew you were onto us.”

“Yeah, it’s that cat of yours, isn’t it?” said Olivia, giving me a nasty look. “I don’t know how this works, but he’s the one who caught us, isn’t he? The filthy red fatso.”

“For your information,” I said, much annoyed, “I’m not red, I’m blorange. And I’m not fat but merely big-boned. It’s a genetic thing.”

“And he’s not filthy,” said Brutus. “Max is actually very hygienic.”

“You tell them, sweetie,” said Harriet gleefully. She was proud of the part she had played, and so was Brutus. But the proudest cat in the room must have been Dooley.

“I saved your life, didn’t I, Max?” said my friend. “I actually saved your life for once!”

“Yes, you did, Dooley,” I said. “Thank you, buddy.” I decided not to mention that I knew these people were probably coming for us, and so I’d been on high alert. I had even told everyone to expect the unexpected at any moment, and so we were all prepared. And a good thing, too!

“So what were you planning to do?” asked Gran. “Stab the cats and smother me and Scarlett?”

“Something like that,” said Liz.

“How were you going to make that look like natural causes?”

“We weren’t going to leave the cats lying around,” said Olivia. “What do you think we are? Stupid? No, we were going to bury them in the woods, and leave the window open to make it look like they’d run away when they found the two of you dead.”

“My cats would never run away,” said Gran. “They would stick around and defend us to their dying breath.”

“Well, maybe not our dying breath,” Harriet muttered.

“Yeah, we’re cats, not dogs,” Brutus added.

“I don’t understand why, though,” said Scarlett. “Why kill all these people?”

“Oh, stop your whining,” said Olivia, who turned out to be a lot nastier than I thought. “They were old and dying. So what if they died a couple of days or weeks before their time? We were doing them a favor. Making sure they died peacefully in their sleep.”

“Bill is an ace at that kind of thing,” said Liz proudly as she darted a look of concern at her husband. “He’s very gentle.”

“He killed more than a dozen people!”

“Yeah, but in the most humane way possible. He calls it death with dignity.”

“And all this for a little bit of money?” asked Scarlett, who was still holding on to that flare gun and aiming it straight at Liz’s chest.

“Not a little bit of money,” said Olivia, who sounded offended. “We raked in millions. More than the two of you will ever see in your miserable pedestrian little lives.”

“Well, our lives may be pedestrian,” said Gran. “But at least we don’t go around murdering people!”

“How did you know we were coming?” asked Liz, but then caught my eye, and grimaced. “That darn cat! He gave the game away, didn’t he?”

“I hate cats,” said her sister. “I’ve always hated them, and now more than ever!”

Bill chose this moment to come to. He got up from behind the bed like a genie out of a bottle. And he was just about to attack Gran when the sound of a police siren caught his attention. He glanced over to his wife, who shook her head once, and then he dropped his hands next to his body and sagged against the wall.

“We should never have told you about Murder Club,” Bill said, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t rub your eyes, honey,” said Liz. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Bill is right,” said Olivia. “We should have respected the first rule of Murder Club. Never talk about Murder Club!”

“That’s what you get for being kind to people,” said Liz. “For trying to be nice.”

“Is Bill crying, Max?” asked Dooley.

“No, I think it’s the pepper spray,” I said. “Somehow I don’t think these people are capable of remorse.”

“Well, looks like this is the end of Murder Club,” said Scarlett cheerfully. “And good riddance, too!”

49

We were in the backyard of Marge and Tex’s house, where a family barbecue was in full progress. Tex was handling the dispensing of items from the grill, and Marge was handling the French fries, guacamole dip, cucumber salad and all the other delicious things that make a family get-together something to remember.

Another reason this particular get-together wouldn’t be easily forgotten was that Gran and Scarlett were finally home again, and so were the four of us.

No less than three killers had been caught, and Chase had just spent a grueling couple of hours interviewing the Murder Club trio.

Turns out that their names weren’t even Liz and Bill and Olivia. Instead they were Joyce and Nick Pesika and Muriel Balut, and they were wanted in connection to a laundry list of crimes. The FBI had been on their track before they disappeared three years ago, and before turning up again at Happy Home under assumed names, and continuing their criminal careers, adding quite a few more crimes to the list.

“These are hardened career criminals,” Chase was explaining while he waved a forked sausage around. “Wanted in twenty different states, in connection to dozens and dozens of crimes dating back thirty and even forty years in some cases.”

“They must have felt Happy Home was a soft target,” said Uncle Alec. “Plenty of potential suspects, a doddering doc who didn’t look too close when someone died on his watch, and most of these residents pretty well off, too.”

“Yeah, they thought they had died and gone to heaven,” said Odelia. “They took millions from these people, and would have taken millions more, and plenty of lives, if Desmond hadn’t become greedy, and taken a page from their book.”

“You see, Desmond must have gotten the same idea they had. He figured Henry was pretty loaded, and so he killed him, coincidentally using the exact same MO as Bill,” said Chase, “and falsifying the man’s will in the process, also the same MO the Murder Club killers had been using on their victims. But Desmond was sloppy. And he was a blabbermouth. So they knew it was just a matter of time before he got himself caught. And if we took a closer look at Happy Home, we might get onto the Pesikas, and of course they couldn’t have that.”

“So they killed Desmond,” said Odelia, “and planted a second fake will in his office.”

“So the second will was also a fake?” asked Charlene.

“Oh, absolutely. Henry’s real will left everything to Kirsten, not Happy Home. We found it in Bill’s possession, along with the wills of most of the trio’s victims.”

“And so that bank account in the Cayman Islands?” asked Gran.

“That belonged to them,” Chase confirmed. “They had planned to cash in at some point, but greed kept them at Happy Home longer than was actually safe for them.”

“I had no idea they killed Desmond,” said Scarlett.

“Bill did that. He was the trio’s designated killer,” said Chase. “He’d perfected his technique to murder his victims without leaving any telltale signs of their violent death. He actually tried to convince me he was doing them a favor, since they were on their last legs anyway.” He shook his head. “Nasty piece of work. But then all three of them are cut from the same cloth. No remorse. None whatsoever. Just kept going on about how that ‘fat orange cat’ should be euthanized.”

I gulped when I heard that. Good thing they’d be locked up for a good long time!

“How did you figure it out, Max?” asked Brutus. “I mean, I would never have suspected these three. I thought they were being great friends to Gran and Scarlett.”

“Until they tried to murder us, at least,” said Harriet dryly.

“Well, it was something Kingman said,” I told them. “You know, about the charming confidence trickster? It reminded me of how charm can be used by criminals to trick their victims.”

“Brian was charming,” said Brutus.

“Yeah, but Brian was also very preoccupied with his three women. I just didn’t think the man had the time or the energy to also kill off a dozen of his residents and pocket their money. But when I thought about charming people, the first person I thought of was actually Liz. But then I figured she couldn’t possibly be involved, she was so sweet! But this so-called tax collector who tried to trick Wilbur had also been very sweet and kind. And then I remembered one other thing: one morning I saw Olivia steal a bread roll and a pat of butter.”

“Gran stole a bread roll at breakfast,” said Harriet. “I saw her, and she told me not to tell anyone.”

“Yeah, but Olivia did it in such an expert way. She was super-fast, you know. Almost as if she had done this kind of thing before.”

“She used to be a pickpocket,” said Brutus.

“Exactly. Her fingers simply fluttered over the plate, and next thing I knew, the bread roll and that pat of butter were gone. It was the most amazing thing. Like magic, you know. And then of course there was the fact that these murders only started three years ago. And Bob once told Gran that Liz, Bill and Olivia had been with them for three years. I think that’s what clinched it in my mind.”

I’d told Gran, who had told Odelia, and together with her husband they’d done a background check on the trio. When it turned out that they didn’t actually exist, and that the documents they used to join Happy Home were expertly-produced fakes, it didn’t take them long to figure out their true identities.

“What’s going to happen to Happy Home now?” asked Brutus. “They’re not going to close, are they?”

“No, they’ve appointed a new general manager,” I said. “And Brian is looking for another job.”

“And another wife,” said Dooley. “Since his own wife doesn’t want him anymore, and Dee doesn’t want him, and neither does Gladys.”

“So he’s gone from being involved with three women to none,” said Brutus with a grin.

“Serves him right,” said Harriet, who hates cheats.

“So Murder Club really was a murder club,” said Brutus. “But instead of solving murders, they actually committed them!”

“Yeah, I don’t think they understood the concept,” said Harriet.

“Or maybe they understood it too well.”

“So is Kirsten rich now?” asked Dooley.

“Not exactly,” I said. “Turns out that Henry Kaur? Was actually her granddad.”

“Her granddad!” Dooley said. “But how!”

“Well, it’s a long story,” I said. “And Henry wrote it all down in his memoirs—the ones he wanted Bob to write for him. Over the years he filled a lot of notebooks, and we found them in Bill’s possession, along with Henry’s original will.”

“Turns out that Henry’s real name was James Martin,” said Odelia, who was writing a series of articles about the man. “And James Martin is a famous fugitive from justice, who’s been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for fifty years now. He once hijacked a plane, and demanded a big ransom for the release of his hostages, then jumped out with a parachute and was never seen again. Only what the story didn’t say was that James had a wife and daughter. And when he didn’t make it back, his wife eventually remarried, and had more kids with her second husband. But so James Martin’s daughter is actually Annette Williams, and so Kirsten is his grandchild. He must have kept track of his family over the years, and followed them from afar.”

“But why didn’t he return to his wife?” asked Scarlett.

“Because at that point he was the most wanted man in the country. He hadn’t expected to be identified, you see, but he was. And so he quickly realized he couldn’t go home. Not if he didn’t want to be arrested. So he had to watch his wife mourn him, and then move on. And when so many years later he suddenly found himself in the position to befriend his granddaughter, he was over the moon, and figured this was a way for him to make things right again. His wife had died in the meantime, but Annette was alive, and so was Kirsten. And so he decided to write his memoirs, and hand them to her, so that she knew the whole story, and when he died he was going to leave her everything he had in his will, which was a nice tidy sum, as we all know.”

“But Kirsten will have to return the money, right?” said Gran.

“Yes, she will have to give that money back to the airline. But she’s going to get a finder’s fee, which is still a sizable sum. At least enough to pay for the wedding, and maybe a down payment on a house.”

“Wedding?” asked Gran. “Are Isaac and Kirsten…”

Scarlett nodded happily.“They are! They even sent me an invitation, and you, too, honey. They figure I was instrumental in getting them together.” Turning to Charlene, she explained, “Isaac is this young nursing assistant I took under my wing, since he was too shy to approach Kirsten, and so I gave him a nudge in the right direction.”

“I’ll bet you did,” said Charlene with a grin.

“And it worked! They’re getting married! Yay!”

“And more good news,” said Gran. “Bob moved back in with his daughter Sharon. And Sharon and Pete are back together, and they’re also getting married. So looks like our time at Happy Home wasn’t in vain after all.”

“Who said your time was in vain?” asked Chase.

“Oh, I just figured, we couldn’t stop Henry from getting killed, and we couldn’t stop Desmond from getting killed, so it feels like we failed at our jobs,” said Gran.

“No, you did not,” said Odelia. “You did well, Gran. You and Scarlett and the cats—all of you. You caught three killers, and solved more than a dozen murders. So you did very well.”

“You actually caught three of the most notorious criminals in the country,” said Uncle Alec. “So in my book you guys are heroes.”

“And you brought together a young couple,” said Marge, who loves a good romance. “And that’s also very important.”

“Oh, and Ester is moving back to New York,” said Scarlett. “To be closer to her family again. Her daughter-in-law may not like it, but her grandkids are ecstatic, and so is Ester herself. And that’s another good thing that we did.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Gran. “It’s important when you see people suffering that you try to do something about it, and so that’s what we did.”

“I’m still relieved that we made it out of that place alive, though,” said Harriet. “Who knew that retirement homes could be so dangerous!”

“I knew,” said Brutus. “I could have told you, but nobody ever listens to me.”

“I think we all listen to you, Brutus,” I said. “But sometimes you have to brave danger if you want to save lives and do some good.”

“I know,” said Brutus. “And so even though I would never want to go back there, I still feel proud of what we accomplished. In more ways than one.”

“And I’m very proud that Brutus learned to bury his doo-doo and his wee-wee,” said Dooley. “It shows that we can all change for the better, if we make an effort.”

Brutus grinned cheekily, and I had the distinct impression that his litter box etiquette had taken a turn for the worse again. But since he was now the master of his own box once more, as we all were, that was fine by me.

Tex, who had been flipping burgers, now joined us.“So what did I miss?” he asked. “With the sizzling from the grill I couldn’t hear what you guys were talking about.”

A collective groan rose up from his family members. But then Scarlett said,“Okay, so there were these three criminals who needed a place to lay low for a while. And a cousin of theirs had heard about a retirement home where a resident was killed by another resident, and the doctor hadn’t noticed a thing, which gave them an idea…”

And as Scarlett recounted the story of Happy Home, the four of us decided to take a little nap. After our harrowing time at the retirement home, I think we deserved that. But this was before Charlene came over, and handed each of us a little trinket.

We glanced at the trinket in confusion, until she explained this was the key to the city. And since we were cats, and our role in what had happened at Happy Home couldn’t officially be recognized, she had taken it upon herself to give us this token of her appreciation.

Tex had already received his key, and so had all the other humans, as per the promise Charlene had made, and now it was our turn.

“I can’t give you an official reception at Town Hall,” she explained, “since people wouldn’t understand, and they’d think I was crazy. But I just want you guys to know how much I appreciate everything you do for this town. And so from now on, you’re all honorary citizens of Hampton Cove.” She smiled. “Thank you for your service, Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.”

I actually had tears in my eyes as I glanced down at my official gold key.

“I love it, Max,” said Dooley. “But where am I going to put it?”

“Like we agreed before: on Odelia’s nightstand,” I said.

And it wasn’t over yet, for now Uncle Alec also walked over to us. He, too, was carrying gifts, in his case in the form of four small badges! “I know I don’t always appreciate you guys,” he said with a touch of gruffness, “but after what you did at Happy Home, I think it’s only fair that the four of you should be deputized. So these are your badges, and from now on you can consider yourselves official feline consultants attached to the Hampton Cove Police Department. Congratulations, and thank you for your service, and for making our proud community a little safer every day.” And since Odelia had told them we had a thing against pins, he had put the badges on ribbons, which he now placed around our necks. And it was a testament to the emotions we were all experiencing, that even Harriet was quiet as a mouse!

And then the humans all got up and gave us a rousing round of applause!

“You guys,” said Harriet, wiping away a tear. “You shouldn’t have done this!” But we could tell that she loved it all the same. “I’m finally a real star,” she murmured.

And so we applauded her also. Because it isn’t every day that you find yourself in the company of greatness. What exactly Harriet is great at, I don’t know. At being great, maybe? For a diva must shine, and that happens to be something Harriet is particularly good at.

“Let’s celebrate, cuddle cakes,” she told Brutus, and they both jumped off the swing and trotted across the backyard and disappeared into the rose bushes.

“I like my key, Max,” Dooley reiterated. “And I love my official police badge. They’re both so nice and shiny. I guess this is the pinnacle of our career, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” I said, wiping away a tear. It was such a proud moment for us.

“So are we going to retire now? And move into a retirement home? Is that what Charlene and Uncle Alec want? Is that why they gave us these?”

“No, of course not. A true detective never retires, Dooley. Because crime doesn’t retire either.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it? Even when criminals retire, they still remain criminals, as we’ve just seen.”

But since no criminals seemed to be in attendance at that moment, we finally settled down and fell into a deep sleep. Not without a touch of vigilance, though, for you never know. We’re detectives, after all, and we have the badges to prove it!