40b1ce81e27faee7f7dcd22da99b93e1

Odelia grinned.“Why, thank you, Dooley. That’s very nice to hear.”

And since our interview with Deith was cut short, she decided to squeeze in one more person before she called it a day.

That person was Natalie Ferrara, who featured high on our list.

Unfortunately for us we didn’t find Natalie home. We did find her brother Luke though, who had reluctantly dragged himself up from the couch to answer the door, and resumed his position the moment we walked in. He was watching the same football game the Mitchells had been watching, only he was surrounded by junk wherever you looked: plates with half-eaten sandwiches, empty plastic wrappers, pizza boxes, cans of beer and soda, an overflowing ashtray on the table, and a pervasive smell of marijuana causing me to cough the moment we entered.

Looked like Natalie’s brother wasn’t exactly making himself useful!

“Nat’s out,” he said as he took a sip from a container of beer. “I can give her a message if you want.”

“No, that’s all right,” said Odelia, looking around for a place to sit, but not finding any.

Luke burped.“Want pizza? You’ll have to shove it in the microwave if you want it hot, though.”

“I’m fine,” Odelia assured him. “So you heard about what happened to Michael Madison?”

“Who? Oh, that guy. Yeah, he died, right?”

“He did. Sometime late last night.”

“Uh-huh,” Luke said, not showing the least bit of interest.

“So where were you guys last night?” asked Odelia casually.

“Here,” said Luke.

“You and your sister both?”

“Sure. Where else would we be?”

“You didn’t go out?”

“Nope. Had some friends over. Had a little party. Slept.”

When nothing more seemed forthcoming, Odelia decided to broach a sensitive subject.“Did Natalie tell you about her affair with Madison?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how did you feel about that?”

He frowned.“What do you mean?”

“When Madison broke it off with your sister.”

“Yeah?”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t get it,” he said, confused.

“Were you upset that your sister’s boss got her pregnant and then broke up with her?”

“Why would I be upset about that? It’s her life. Nothing to do with me.”

“No, I get that, but as her older brother—”

“Younger.”

“As her younger brother, you might have been upset with Madison.”

“Well, I wasn’t, all right? Frankly I didn’t care. If she wanted to have an affair with her boss—incidentally the oldest clich? in the book—that was her business.”

“She was clearly upset, though.”

He frowned.“Okay, so who are you, exactly? And why the third degree?”

Patiently, Odelia once more explained who she was, causing the kid to groan with annoyance.

“Just get lost, okay? If I’d known you were a reporter I’d never have let you in.”

“Who did you think I was?”

“How should I know? Natalie’s friend or whatever. But you’re clearly not a friend, so you can just get lost.” And as we removed ourselves from the apartment, as requested, he yelled after us, “And don’t come back!”

Frankly I had no intention of going back to talk to this annoying individual, and neither had Odelia. I felt sorry for Natalie, though, who had to live with this guy.

“Family isn’t always everything, is it, Max?” said Dooley as Odelia drove us home.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed.

“Poor Natalie.”

“Yeah, poor Natalie.”

Dooley turned to Odelia.“If your investigation reveals Natalie as Michael Madison’s killer, maybe you can hold off on having her arrested until she kills her brother, too.”

Odelia laughed at this.“Thanks for the tip, Dooley. But I don’t think that’s entirely legal.”

“No, but it’s the right thing to do,” my friend returned.

Maybe he had a point. With family like that, who needs enemies?

CHAPTER 28

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Before going home, though, Odelia decided to make a detour by the police precinct, to discuss the case with her husband and uncle. And so we found ourselves in Uncle Alec’s office for the second time in one day.

And as Odelia gave the two cops an extensive report of her findings, it soon became clear that she’d been liaising with Chase all the while, and the latter hadn’t been idle either. He’d been checking the alibis of the suspects Odelia had interviewed, and the result was thus: Gary Rapp had indeed spent the night drinking at a bar with some lovely ladies, but had left at two, which would have given him plenty of time to slip back to the office and kill his former boss.

Wayne Piscina hadn’t lied when he said he delivered a meal to a late client, and that same late client had confirmed his story as had Piscina’s new boss. His route had taken him pretty close to Advantage headquarters, though, so who was to say he hadn’t paid a visit to his old boss, gotten into an argument andshoved him out of his window? It would also explain the lack of badge activity, if Madison had personally buzzed his late-night visitor in and taken him up to his office.

Though the same went for Gary Rapp, of course.

“Okay, so as far as the others are concerned,” said Odelia, checking her notes, “Deith Madison was home alone—which we need to check. Natalie Ferrara was home with her brother—at least according to the brother. I haven’t managed to get a hold of her. Tom Mitchell was home with his family.” She looked up with a smile of amusement. “His mom went to great lengths to explain how she’s a light sleeper and would have heard if Tom left the house at any point last night.”

“And the same applies to Danny, I suppose,” said Chase.

“Is he a suspect?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Not really,” said Odelia. “Unless he felt so bad for his cousin that he would go out and murder his boss. Which seems unlikely.”

“Agreed,” said the Chief.

“Okay, so we have Doris Booth, whose dog Froufrou confirms she was home all night.”

“Froufrou,” the Chief murmured, shaking his head. “If anyone heard us, they’d think we’re crazy.”

“Another pet called Joey, a miniature Brussels Griffon, confirmed that Ona Konpacka didn’t leave her apartment,” she continued, ignoring her uncle’s groans of dismay. She flipped through her notes. “Um… So we need to talk to Deith again, and confirm her alibi, maybe by talking to one ofher servants, which I assume she has—she denied knowing about the pregnancy, but I’m pretty sure she was lying. And then there’s Howard White.”

“The Howard White?” asked Chase, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of Howard White,” said Odelia, amused.

“I’m a New Yorker born and bred, babe. Of course I’ve heard of Howard White. The guy is a national treasure.”

“He was seen rowing with Michael Madison in the latter’s office a couple of days ago. Something about a bad review of the man’s latest collection. Madison personally wrote that review, and Mr. White was not amused, to say the least.”

“So we’ll have to go and talk to the guy,” said Chase.

“Do it first thing tomorrow,” the Chief suggested. “The sooner we can put this case to rest, the better. I’m already starting to get calls from people wanting to know why my niece is going round claiming Madison’s death wasn’t suicide.”

Odelia grimaced.“I’m sorry, Uncle Alec. I know you told me not to mention it.”

“That’s fine. We need to get people talking, and if that’s the way to do it, so be it.” He slapped his desk. “So. Suspects, people?”

Odelia shared a look with her husband.“For my money I’d say Gary Rapp, Deith Madison, or Wayne Piscina.”

“Agreed,” said Chase. “And let’s add Howard White as a possible suspect, pending our interview with the guy. And let’s not rule out Natalie Ferrara, if her brother is really as flaky as you say he is.”

“He is.”

“And we’ll scratch Doris Booth, Ona Konpacka and the Mitchells. Okay?”

The trio were in agreement, and so the meeting was adjourned.

“Too bad these other suspects don’t have pets,” said Dooley. “They could have confirmed their alibis, too. Which just goes to show it’s always a good idea to have a pet.”

“I like your thinking, Dooley,” I said.

“So what’s going on with my sister?” asked Uncle Alec. “Is she still upset with Tex about those letters?”

“I think Marge is ready to forgive and forget,” said Chase. “After all, it wasn’t entirely his fault. In fact it may have been me who put out that box.”

“You did this?” asked Odelia.

“It’s possible. Though if I did, I had no idea how important the box was.”

“They’ll work it out,” said Odelia. “They always do.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that your dad didn’t do it on purpose,” said Uncle Alec.

“Just a case of Tex being Tex,” said Chase with a grin.

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Marge, who’d had a long day at the library, arrived home feeling tired and in a bad mood. More people had showed up wanting to know about those letters. Turns out several people had taken pictures of the letters they had found in their mailboxes and had started sharing them on social media. And now all of a sudden it felt as if the whole world was talking about them!

She entered the house through the front door, and was surprised to find the hallway smelling of flowers. And not just any flowers, but pink roses—her favorite! A big bouquet was on the hallway sideboard, and she felt her mood perk up immediately as she took a deep sniff of the blessed blooms.

She dropped her keys in the tray and walked into the living room. She halted in the doorway when she caught sight of several more vases filled with pink and orange roses greeting her from all around the room. There was dozens of them, and the smell was simply amazing!

“Oh, Tex,” she murmured, for there was no doubt in her mind that this was her husband’s doing, to apologize for the letter business.

She took a peek into the kitchen, to see if Tex was around, and what she found were even more roses—on the table, on the kitchen island—everywhere!

The door opened, and her ma walked in, a big smile on her face.“Hey, honey,” she said. “Nice surprise?”

“The best,” she said, perking all up.

“He’s in the backyard,” said Ma.

She nodded and took a sniff from a nearby bouquet, plucked a single rose from the bunch, then walked out.

Tex was seated on the porch swing, looking moody. When he became aware of her, his frown turned into a smile, though. A hopeful smile.“Did you see…”

She nodded.

“What do you…”

“I like.”

He blinked a few times, and she saw he had teared up. She smiled and put her hand on his cheek, which he kissed tenderly. There was not an ounce of malice in this man. Not a single drop. He was her absentminded professor, and she loved him dearly. And just like that, she realized her anger had dissipated and was gone.

She sat down next to him and took his hand. She then put her head on his shoulder. And so they sat like that for a couple of minutes, in grateful silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been more careful with your letters.”

“Your letters, you mean.”

“The moment I sent them to you, they became yours.”

“I love those letters,” she said, as she kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“And I love you,” she returned.

And when her mother took a peek through the kitchen window a few moments later, and saw her daughter and son-in-law seated together on the swing, the old lady smiled, pumped the air with her fist, and whispered,“Yes!”

CHAPTER 29

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Howard White, the celebrated designer, occupied two floors of an impressive brownstone in the heart of Greenwich Village. The big man was expecting us, and his assistant Sebastian was already supplying our humans with coffee in small porcelain cups the moment we walked in.

“Oh, this is just gorgeous,” Odelia exclaimed when she took in the expansive loft space, which was uninhibited by inner walls or even columns, and afforded a stunning view of the local park. Plenty of light streamed in, and everywhere we looked we could see framed designs by the master’s handadorning the walls.

“We like it here,” Sebastian announced modestly, indicating that perhaps he wasn’t merely Mr. White’s assistant but something more. “Of course we got it when prices were still affordable in this part of town. If we were to sell, we’d probably fetch an inordinate sum, considering how much prices have gone up. But we’ve lived here for so long now we’d never leave. Isn’t that so, chouchou?”

Chouchou turned out to be the artist himself, who now emerged from upstairs, where presumably his living quarters were located. Howard White was a tall man, with distinguished white hair and a long, impassive, tan face. I would have guessed he was in his early sixties, and I don’t think I would have been far off.

“Greetings, Mrs. Kingsley—Mr. Kingsley,” he said in clipped tones as he shook hands with our humans, then held out those same hands for Sebastian to squirt some clear liquid from a bottle, then efficiently wipe them with disinfectant wipes. The whole process passed so quickly that it was obvious this was a common thing in the White household. “How may I be of assistance?” he asked.

Sebastian gestured to a brown leather sofa, which looked more like a work of art than an actual comfy couch, and our humans carefully took a seat, with Mr. White and Sebastian taking up position on the opposing sofa.

The artist then seemed to notice myself and Dooley for the first time, for he made a face and expressed his abhorrence by saying,“Cats! Nobody told me there would be cats!”

And here I thought all humans loved cats.

“They’re perfectly groomed specimens,” Sebastian assured the big man. “I’ve checked them myself and they’re clean—no sign of lice or parasites of any kind.” He handed Mr. White a document, which I recognized as the form Odelia had had to fill out before she could be allowed to meet with the famous designer.

The designer waved it away.“Fine, fine,” he said impatiently. He rested his perfectly manicured hands in his lap and sat back with a serene expression on his face. “Please begin,” he said, and awaited further proceedings.

“We’re investigating the death of Michael Madison,” said Chase. “A man you’re probably familiar with.”

“Of course,” said the designer, inclining his head. “Michael and I go way back.”

“Which is why it came as something of a shock to us,” said Odelia, “that Michael wrote critically about your latest collection. An article that probably didn’t go down well with you, sir?”

“That’s correct,” said the designer. “When I read the article, I was shocked.Glimmer has been a mainstay in my career going back forty years, and I’ve always had an excellent working relationship with its subsequent editors.”

“Before Michael Madison became CEO of the entire Advantage group, he worked as editor-in-chief forGlimmer,” Sebastian explained.

“And in that capacity he never had a bad word to say about my work,” said Howard with a frown.

“And then all of a sudden he was promoted CEO of the group, andGlimmer’s attitude toward our work took a violent turn,” said Sebastian. “Isn’t that true, chouchou?”

“Almost as if Michael felt he had something to prove now that he was in charge. It’s very unusual, you see, that a CEO would get involved in the day-to-day business of producing copy for his flagship magazine.”

“He didn’t even have the guts to write the piece under his own name,” Sebastian scoffed. “He used a pseudonym. At first we thought another editor had written it.”

“Gary Rapp.”

“Yes. But it was Michael, all right. Writing this dreadful hatchet piece.”

“So I called him,” said Howard. “I wanted to know what he thought he was doing. First he denied having written the piece. Claimed he hadn’t even read it, and was going to ‘investigate,’ before getting back to me.”

“He never got back to us,” said Sebastian.

“And so I paid him a visit in his lair.”

“He wasn’t happy.”

“I wasn’t happy. And I gave it to him with both barrels.”

“Do you know what his excuse was?” asked Sebastian, quirking a finely penciled eyebrow. “He saidGlimmer had to move with the times. That they couldn’t cater to dinosaurs forever, and had to focus on new, moreexciting designers. And since no one dared to write the truth, he figured he’d do it himself.”

“I’m not a dinosaur,” said Howard White, lifting his chin.

“Of course not, chouchou,” Sebastian assured him. “If anyone is a dinosaur in this story, it’s Michael Madison.”

“Was,” said Chase.

“Yes, was,” said Sebastian, demurely casting down his eyes.

“I like to think I’ve always kept my finger on the pulse of the fashion industry,” said Howard. “Tried hard not to get stuck in the past. But obviously Michael thought differently, and decided to fire a shot across the bow. Let me know that I was now officially a has-been. A talentless hack. An old fossil.” He carefully studied his fingers. “Look who’s the has-been now,” he said softly.

“I guess Michael simply couldn’t take the pressure,” said Sebastian, and there was a touch of satisfaction in his tone. “It’s one thing to be an editor, but something else to be in charge of the entire company. Especially in an industry in decline. Just like in the rest of the publishing industry, circulation of Advantage Publishing’s magazines has been dropping precipitously. It’s not inconceivable that at some point, if they don’t manage to turn things around, they’ll be extinct.”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” said Howard. “It would be a bad thing for the fashion industry if magazines likeGlimmer andGlitter go out of business.”

“The thing is,” said Chase now, as he leaned forward, “that it’s entirely possible that Michael Madison didn’t kill himself.” He let his statement hang in the air for a moment, before dropping his bombshell. “But that he was, in fact, murdered.”

Howard’s cool demeanor cracked a little. “Murdered!” he exclaimed.

“Well, what do you know?” said Sebastian, looking oddly pleased.

“But I thought he jumped? Left a suicide note?” said Howard.

“We have reason to believe that he may have been pushed. And that whoever killed him faked that suicide note.”

“But…” Howard turned to his assistant/partner. “Did you know about this?”

“Absolutely not, chouchou,” Sebastian assured the older man. “I had no idea.”

Howard turned a pair of keen eyes on Chase.“So that’s why you’re here. To ask me if I’m the one who killed Michael Madison.” He smirked a little. “So are you going to arrest me? Are you here to slap a pair of handcuffs on my wrists?”

“Oh, dear,” said Sebastian, who was thoroughly enjoying the drama.

“We’re not here to make an arrest today,” Chase assured the designer. “We’re simply talking to all the people that knew Michael Madison.”

“Especially the ones with a reason to kill him?” asked Howard.

“Well…” said Chase. “You did have a public spat.”

“More than a spat,” said Howard. “I told him that if he ever talked to me like that again, or wrote an article like that about me or my work, I’d sue him for defamation of character and slander. And I told him that if he wanted to make an enemy out of me, he’d better think long and hard first, because I could make life difficult for him, the same way he was trying to make life difficult for me.”

“How were you going to make life difficult for Michael?” asked Odelia.

Howard shared a cautious look with Sebastian. They were on tricky ground now, and both seemed to realize it.“Glimmer always got the best seats in the house at any of my fashion shows,” Howard explained. “They got invites to pre-shows, exclusive previews, behind-the-scenes interviews, access to me and my team, the whole shebang. And since we all know that exclusivity and access sells copies, this was a good deal for both of us. If Michael was going to continue this hostile attitude of his, all of that would be a thing of the past.Glimmer would get the same treatment as the rest of the written press. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“We were also thinking about denyingGlimmer access to our models, photographers, designers,” said Sebastian. “A strict omert? across the board.”

“If Michael really thought I was an old has-been, that wouldn’t have mattered to him orGlimmer,” said Howard. “But if not…” He gave us a meaningful look.

“All of that would come on top of the legal action we threatened to take,” said Sebastian. “He immediately backed off when we hit him with that double whammy.” He looked defiant now. “Said he didn’t mean it like that, and how valuableGlimmer’slongstanding relationship with Howard White was to him.”

“I didn’t have to kill the man, detective,” said Howard. “I already had him licked!” He had the air of an old lion who still has a few tricks up his sleeve.

“We had him cornered,” said Sebastian. “Absolutely cornered!”

Howard leaned forward.“So who killed him, you think?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Odelia.

“Which is why we have to ask you where you were two nights ago,” Chase said. “You and your assistant both.”

Howard and Sebastian shared a look of amusement, and before long they were both laughing heartily, as if Chase had told the funniest joke.“I’m not Howard’s assistant,” said Sebastian finally. The two men held hands. “I’m his husband.”

“Well, not officially,” said Howard. “I don’t believe in marriage. But yes, Sebastian and I have been together for, oh, going on thirty years now?”

“Thirty-two next month,” said Sebastian decidedly. “Which reminds me, what do you want for our anniversary, chouchou?”

“You know me. Nothing special,” said the designer.

Sebastian turned to us.“That’s what he always says. But then when I don’t organize the most fabulous party, he gets all moody and sad, the big chouchou.”

“I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley aren’t interested in all that,” said Howard.

“Okay, so where were we when Michael was killed?” said Sebastian, lightly slapping his thighs. He glanced over to Howard. “Did we dine out? I can’t remember.”

“Two nights ago,” said Howard, fingering his smoothly shaved chin.

“Ooh, that’s right! Two nights ago we watched that French movie. The funny one with Christian Clavier and Chantal Lauby.” He turned to us. “We never laughed so hard in our lives. Isn’t that right, chouchou?”

“It was very funny,” Howard admitted with a smile.

“Hilarious,” said Sebastian with satisfaction.

Both men proceeded to beam at us, like two choir boys who’ve discovered the stock of sacramental wine and have managed to drink it all without being caught.

CHAPTER 30

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“I don’t understand why we had to travel all the way to New York,” Dooley lamented once we were back in the car and on our way to Hampton Cove.

“Because Odelia didn’t know if Howard White had pets,” I explained.

“I don’t get it,” Dooley said.

“If Howard had pets, we would have been able to talk to them, and ascertain whether Howard’s alibi was valid or not. But now that it turns out that he didn’t have pets, you’re correct in that our presence wasn’t required.”

“I don’t like traveling by car,” Dooley said as he hunkered down in the backseat.

“I don’t like it either, buddy,” I said.

In fact cats don’t like to travel anywhere. Not by car, not by plane, not by any mode of transportation. We basically like to stay home and not move around in these horrible man-made machines. I mean, if God had wanted us to fly, He would have given us wings, and if He wanted us to travel in cars, He would have given us turn signals.

“So what do you think?” asked Odelia as she put the finishing touches to her notes. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate Howard as a suspect?”

“I’m not sure,” said Chase, hedging his bets as usual. As a detective, he liked to play his cards close to his chest. “I mean, do I think it’s likely that he killed Madison? No, I don’t. Do I think it’s impossible? I don’t think so either.”

“So what you’re actually saying is that you don’t think he did it, and yet you think he did.”

“I’m just saying I don’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She frowned before her, then turned to us.“What do you think, Max? On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that Howard White killed Madison?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“God,” said Odelia. “Nobody knows anything.”

“What do you think?” asked Chase as he navigated the Long Island Expressway. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“I don’t know!” Odelia cried, throwing up her hands, and in the process dislodging her tablet from her lap, and sending it flying into the footwell. “So many suspects, and not a single clue to go on! It’s so frustrating!”

“I know,” said Chase. “But at least we have suspects. Imagine having a victim but not a single suspect.”

“We don’t just have one suspect. We have an abundance of suspects,” Odelia grumbled. “We’re drowning in suspects!”

“Odelia seems stressed,” Dooley commented.

“It’s not easy to investigate a murder case that isn’t officially a murder case, with more suspects than clues, and where every suspect seems to have a good reason to murder the victim,” I said.

“This murder case isn’t officially a murder case?”

“Oh, no. It’s only official if there’s a witness, or a strong suspicion that foul play is involved. But the only witness we have is a badger.”

“That badger is a strong witness, Max.”

“I know. But not in a court of law. And that’s what counts.”

“Complicated,” said Dooley. “It’s all very complicated, Max.”

“So what do you think, Dooley? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero for traveling by car,” said Dooley. “And ten for getting home safe and sound.”

Now those were numbers I could live with.

“So have your mom and dad reconciled?” asked Chase.

Odelia smiled.“Dad got Mom pink roses. A lot of pink roses. She couldn’t stay angry with him after that. And to think those roses were Gran’s idea.”

“That was very nice of her.”

“Gran is often on Dad’s case, but actually she’s very fond of him.”

“Your dad is a great guy, and we’re all very fond of him.”

Odelia put down her tablet, and for the next half hour, the case was temporarily forgotten, as they discussed family matters instead of murder.

And in spite of the harrowing circumstances, Dooley and I took a long nap.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

Once again, Advantage Publishing was open for business. Gran and Scarlett had been invited back, as had the rest of the company’s staff, and of course Gran and Scarlett’s emotional support animals couldn’t be excluded from the roster.

And so Dooley and I were on Gran’s desk, taking in the exciting world of commerce from our vantage point, while Gran and her friend worked like beavers to further the interests of Dear Gabi. They still hadn’t given up on their matchmaking efforts, and had come up with a new plan of campaign. Gran would work on Natalie, while Scarlett would focus her attentions on Natalie’s prospective beau Tom.

Michael Madison’s office had been completely remodeled—perhaps the fastest remodel in history—with all remnants of the murdered CEO’s reign removed. The new CEO hadn’t yet taken up their position at the helm, but rumor had it that negotiations had entered the final stage. And so the office was abuzz with wild speculation and gossip about who could possibly become their new boss—always an important aspect of office life!

Scarlett had sashayed up to Tom, and took a seat next to the embattled young man. He looked just as miserable as ever—perhaps it was his signature look?

Scarlett must have thought the key to making him more palatable to Natalie was to do something about his general appearance, for she opened proceedings by saying,“Girls don’t like it when a guy looks like a slob, Tom.”

“Are you saying I look like a slob?” asked the lovesick editor, glancing down at his costume. He was wearing his usual faded jeans, a T-shirt that announced that he favored Team Chewbacca, whatever Team Chewbacca was, and his hair telegraphed that it hadn’t been touched since he stepped out of bed that morning: one side was up, the other was down. Not exactly the hot stud most girls favor!

“You need a haircut, stat,” said Scarlett, subjecting him to an uber-critical look. “You need a change of clothes—a change of style, in fact. And you need to stop looking like the end of the world is near and it’s happening on your block.”

“I haven’t been feeling so well,” he said. “And I guess it shows.”

“It shows. Badly. So let me take you to my favorite hairstylist. And my favorite boutique. And let me give you a couple of books to read that will buck up your self-confidence and put a pep in your step.”

“I don’t want a pep in my step,” he said morosely. “I just want Natalie to talk to me without mentioning the name ‘Michael Madison’ every second sentence.”

“That’s going to take time,” said Scarlett. “The love of her life just died, so you can’t expect her to just get up one morning and fall madly in love with you. But in due course, I think she might be induced to move you out of the friend zone.”

“I’m not even in the friend zone right now,” said the kid. “I’m in the ‘you don’t exist’ zone. The zone where a meteor just struck and wiped out all sign of life.”

See what I mean? Depressed is the best word for it. And a depressed individual has never been able to interest another individual to see him as a love interest. Especially when that other individual is also depressed because the love of her life, as Scarlett so rightly indicated, has just been shoved out of a window.

“If Tom murdered Michael,” said Dooley, “because he was hoping that with him out of the picture Natalie would turn to him looking for a shoulder to cry on, he’s going to be very disappointed.”

“Yeah, whatever shoulder she wants to cry on, it’s not Tom’s,” I agreed.

We glanced in the direction of Natalie, and saw that she was getting up from her desk, and as she passed Gran’s desk, the latter also got up, gave us two thumbs up, and followed the personal assistant to the office canteen.

And since Dooley and I were now heavily invested in this budding office romance, we jumped down from Tom’s desk, where we’d eagerly followed Scarlett’s attempts to make Tom more suitable as a suitor, and hurried in Gran’s wake.

“It’s just like a soap, Max,” said Dooley. “You just can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next!”

CHAPTER 31

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If Tom looked terrible, Natalie looked even worse. Clearly she hadn’t digested the death of her former lover well.

“How are you holding up?” asked Gran solicitously.

“It’s Luke,” said Natalie as she nursed a cup of coffee. “He invited his friends over for a party again last night, so I didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Again! But you have to kick him out!” said Gran, aghast.

“I can’t. He’s got nowhere else to stay,” she said miserably.

“Oh, you poor thing,” said Gran. Natalie leaned against the sink, and Gran joined her, the two women standing companionably side by side. “It’s not been your week, has it, sweetie?”

“You can say that again. Not only do I have to cook, but he won’t even wash the dishes, or clean up his mess. And you don’t want to know what my apartment looks like. Like a hurricane passed through it. I told him to get it sorted by the time I get home from work, but I can tell you now already that won’t happen.”

“You have to be stricter with your brother. You can’t just let him walk all over you like this.”

“Frankly, Vesta, I don’t have the strength right now. After what happened with Michael, and then him dying, and the baby, I just feel…” Her voice broke, and as she stared into her cup of coffee, big tears rolled down her cheeks.

“This is just too much,” suddenly a voice growled from the door.

When we looked up, we saw that Tom was standing there. He had probably heard the entire conversation, and I could see that he was seeing red.

“Tom,” said Natalie, surprised to find her co-worker balling his hands into fists, his face working, and his eyes shooting sheets of flame to no one in particular. The kind, slightly nerdy young man had suddenly turned livid.

“This ends now,” Tom announced, and suddenly stomped out.

“What’s going on?” asked Gran. “Where is he going?”

“I don’t know,” said Natalie, a look of concern on her face.

Tom was a fast worker, for not even ten minutes had passed before Natalie got a call from her brother. By then we were all back at our desks—except Tom, who had disappeared.

Natalie came hurrying up to us, her phone pressed to her chest.“It’s Luke,” she said. “He says some maniac just walked in, and he’s threatening to kill him!”

“Uh-oh,” said Gran. “That’s not good.”

It was quite the understatement, and since Natalie seemed in a right state, we decided to accompany the young PA to her home, where her brother was apparently in danger of some grievous bodily harm!

Natalie wasn’t in a condition to drive, and so Gran did the honors, setting a world record for traversing from one side of town to the other. When we finally screeched to a halt in front of Natalie’s apartment complex, I think we were all a little white around the nostrils.

We staggered from the vehicle, and Natalie hurried up to the front door. But even before we got there, loud voices greeted us from the fifth-floor window.

And as Natalie gasped in shock, suddenly Tom appeared. He had grabbed her brother by the neck and was trying to shove him out the window!

“Tom, don’t!” Natalie screamed as Luke held on for dear life.

“Nat, help!” Luke cried. “This maniac wants to kill me!”

“I will kill you,” said Tom, “if you don’t clear out of your sister’s apartment right now. But not before you clean up your mess, and promise never to return!”

“I promise, I promise!” Luke yelled. “But don’t kill me, please!”

But Tom wasn’t so easily convinced. “If you don’t do as I say, I’m coming back, and I will shove you out of this window, and watch your no-good brain splatter on that pavement below. Is that understood, you pathetic waste of skin!”

“Yes, yes! I promise!”

“Good,” said Tom, and yanked the kid back inside.

“He’s not so meek now,” said Dooley.

“No, more like an avenging angel,” I said.

“Oh, God,” said Natalie, as she hurried to the door.

And as we arrived on the fifth floor, where the drama was unfolding, we were greeted by an apocalyptic scene: the apartment, which hadn’t looked all that clean and welcoming before, had been completely trashed! And I had the impression it wasn’t Tom who was responsible for the mess.

“He didn’t clean up,” was the first thing Natalie said when she witnessed the devastation. “I told him to clean up. He promised to clean up. He didn’t clean up.”

“All the more reason to kick him out,” said Gran.

Tom seemed to agree wholeheartedly, for he now greeted us in the hallway, dragging a terrified-looking Luke by the scruff of the neck.“Your brother has something to tell you, Natalie,” he announced.

“I’m leaving, Nat,” said Luke. “I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.”

“But…” Tom prompted.

“But first I’m going to clean up my mess.”

“And…”

“And I want to thank you for shopping for me, cooking for me, doing my laundry, and cleaning up after me. But I promise that you won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Because…”

“Because I’m going to be staying with a friend from now on.”

“And…”

“And I want to apologize to you for the trouble I caused.”

“And…”

“And I’m going to pay you for all the damages, the food—everything!”

“Good,” Tom grunted. “And now get started,” he said, and released the young wastrel. Luke produced a sort of yelp of fear, and scuttled into the living room, where he immediately started picking up his trash.

Natalie, who’d watched the scene with slack jaw, now turned eyes filled with gratitude and admiration to Tom, like the rest of us surprised by this sudden transformation the young man had gone through.

“Look, I can’t stand this anymore,” Tom announced now. “I’ve never told you this before, Natalie, but I love you. In fact I’ve loved you from the day you came into my life. The day I started working at Advantage. I’ve been too chicken to tell you, and to ask you out—until recently. I understand that you’re still mourning for Michael. But honestly, I hated the way he treated you. And I hated that he dumped you when you told him you were expecting his baby. The man was a louse. And he didn’t deserve you. Just like I don’t deserve you. But if I didn’t tell you this, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. So…” He shrugged. “I guess now I did.”

Natalie nodded quietly.“I knew you liked me, Tom. I’ve known for a long time. And I think you’re a great guy.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “So… if I asked you out again sometime. I mean, not now, obviously. But later—once you’re feeling better. Do you think… I mean do you…”

“I’m pregnant, Tom. I’m having Michael’s baby. I’ve thought about this a lot, but I’m not going to have the abortion. So this might not be such a good idea.”

“I don’t mind,” said Tom.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t mind that I’m having another man’s baby?”

“Absolutely not. I love you, Natalie. I want to take care of you. You and your baby.”

“Oh,” said Natalie, and brought a distraught hand to her face. Her eyes were welling up again. And this was the moment Scarlett gave Tom a prod in the ribs, causing that young man to jump forward. He collided with Natalie, and nature did the rest. His arms folded around the young woman, she pressed her face into his chest, and as we watched on, there was hugging, and weeping, and sweet words being exchanged.

“Let’s give these two some privacy,” said Gran finally, her voice suspiciously husky, and so that’s what we did: we all retreated into the living room, where we watched Luke Ferrara go through that room like a human hurricane, picking up litter, collecting broken bottles and crushed beer cans, and generally working harder than he had ever worked before in his life to clean up the mess he and his friends had made. All to avoid being chucked out a fifth-floor window.

Which reminded me. Who else had been chucked out of a window recently?

Exactly.

I could tell that Gran and Scarlett had the same idea I had, for Gran said,“Looks like we’ve got our killer, hon.”

“Too bad,” said Scarlett. “Just when young love was in the cards.”

“Let’s give them a moment before we call the police,” Gran suggested.

And so it was decided: Tom might be a killer, but he was also a man in love. And so he might be excused for going around chucking the men who hurt the woman he loved out of windows. Nobody’s perfect, after all.

CHAPTER 32

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Marge had been busy scanning the books people had returned when Gary Rapp walked in. The man looked as if he’d walked straight out of a romance novel: dove-gray suit, stylishly coiffed, with a killer smile on that confident face.

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Marge Poole,” he announced as he walked up to her counter. “I’ve got a great little restaurant picked out for a cozy dinner for two, and I would like very much if you said yes.”

“Oh, Gary,” said Marge. “I’m flattered, but you know I’m a married woman.”

“But not a happily married woman, if my information is correct.”

She wavered, but only for a moment.“I am very happy with my husband.”

“If I were your husband, I wouldn’t casually dump your love letters into the trash,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “Instead I’d remind you every day of my love for you.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Gary, but—”

“Just say yes, Marge. You know you want to.”

She laughed.“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants. And right now I want you.”

“Oh, Gary,” she said with a smile. Gary had taken her hand, and was fingering it intently.

“What’s going on here?” suddenly a voice boomed behind them. They both jumped at the sound. And when Marge turned, she saw that Tex was standing there, eyeing them with a face that spelled storm. In his hand he was holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“Tex,” she said, startled by this unexpected development.

“Marge,” said Tex, as he freely ground his teeth, taking in the scene.

Marge tried to extricate her hand from Gary’s, but the latter hung onto it, like a trophy. “I think an apology is in order, Poole,” said Gary, a steely note in his voice.

“You’re absolutely right, Rapp,” said Tex. “So you better start apologizing.”

“You’re the one who owes an apology to your wife. For dumping her letters in the trash, and allowing them to be distributed around the neighborhood, causing her a lot of aggravation and humiliation.”

“I already said I’m sorry,” said Tex.

“If you really loved your wife, Poole, you wouldn’t be so negligent.”

Tex’s face was working, and Marge, who finally managed to retrieve her hand from Gary’s grasp, said, “I know you’re sorry, honey. And I forgive you.”

“You’re being too kind, Marge,” said Gary. “Though knowing what a wonderful, kind-hearted woman you are, I shouldn’t be surprised. But let me tell you that this man doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.” He suddenly got down on one knee. “Marge, let me prove to you I’m a better man than your husband will ever be.”

“Gary, please…”

“If you wrote me a letter, I would treasure it, not dump it in the trash.”

Marge saw Tex wince at these words.

“Just let me prove it to you. Let me take you out to dinner.”

She smiled.“Gary, you’ve been very kind, and very persistent, but I love my husband. Even after twenty-five years, I still love him. Oh, I know he’s absentminded sometimes, and does stupid things. But that’s all right.”

“But he’s a moron!”

“I know,” she said, darting a smile at her husband. “But he’s my moron.”

Gary’s expression of devotion had melted away, replaced by a scornful look. He abruptly got up and dusted off his nice pair of pants. “Women,” he spat. “You’re all the same, aren’t you? Playing fast and loose with people’s affections.”

“You better take that back, buddy,” said Tex now.

“I’m not taking anything back,” said Gary. “Your wife is just like all the other women who pretended to like what I said, and then turned around and filed a complaint against me. Sexual harassment, my foot. You’re all a bunch of airheads!”

There was a sort of whirl and a whizzing sound, and the next moment, Gary Rapp stood touching his cheek in surprise. Those nice flowers Tex had been holding now lay on the floor, and red dots appeared on the editor’s cheek where the thorns had punctured his skin. “Mano a mano,” Tex said, holding up his fists in a pugilistic stance. “You and me, and may the best man win!”

But Gary gave the doctor one scathing look, then turned and left the library.

“Come back here!” Tex cried. “You coward!”

But Gary clearly had no intention to come back and fight the good doctor. Instead, he slammed the door on his way out.

“That’s disappointing,” said Tex, who looked thoroughly surprised.

“Oh, Tex,” said Marge, as she eyed her husband with gleaming eyes. “That’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“He said some really bad things about you, honey,” said Tex.

“Come here,” she said when she saw that his hand was bleeding. And as she kissed the spot, he wrapped her into his arms, and when Margaret Samson emerged from between the racks of books, clutching a tome called‘Dirty Talk,’ she found a middle-aged couple fervently kissing, as if they just met for the first time.

The old lady smiled and sighed a happy little sigh.

Sometimes romance happened in real life, too.

CHAPTER 33

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Odelia was walking from her office to the precinct when a gray Mercedes parked next to her and a woman stepped out of the vehicle. She almost bumped into her, and a look of recognition passed over the other person’s face.

“Odelia Kingsley, isn’t it?” asked Deith Madison.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Madison,” said Odelia. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“I know. And I’ve been trying to stave you off,” said the woman with a vague smile. “I should have known that reporters are worse than pit bulls once they’ve picked up the scent of their prey.” She sighed resignedly. “So just ask what you want to ask, and I’ll try and answer you as truthfully as possible. How about that?”

“That’s all I want,” said Odelia, who was feeling inordinately pleased that Deith Madison had compared her to a pit bull. “Last time we spoke you denied that your husband was having an affair with his personal assistant. You called it filth and lies and threatened to sue my newspaper if we dared to print the story.”

Deith studied Odelia for a moment, then finally relented.“Michael and I enjoyed a marriage of convenience. He had his affairs and I had mine. And in the meantime we had an understanding that we would never get divorced. It was an arrangement that was mutually beneficial. It provided Michael with the benefit of a vast fortune that I inherited from my side of the family, and it provided me with the connections that he made through the work that he did. So yes, it doesn’t surprise me that he was having an affair with his personal assistant.”

“Who is now pregnant with his baby.”

Deith’s expression darkened. “Michael was usually very careful about these things. So when he told me Natalie was pregnant, I have to admit I was upset. We had an arrangement, but that didn’t include having kids with other women.”

“Which gave you a solid motive for his murder,” Odelia pointed out.

Deith threw back her head and laughed.“Oh, honey, if Mike knocking up some girl gave me a motive to murder him, I would have done it a long time ago. This wasn’t the first time this happened. And even though I was furious, I wasn’t going to kill him over it. So please spare me the amateur detective stuff.”

“Were you really home the night your husband was killed, Mrs. Madison?”

“I was,” she said. “Michael and I lived separate lives. I lived in my part of the house, and he lived in his. We still spent plenty of time together, but it was an arrangement that suited us both very well.” She gave Odelia a look of amusement, then took out her phone and showed her a phonenumber.

“What’s this?” asked Odelia.

“My alibi,” said Deith. “It’s my boyfriend’s number. Call him and he’ll confirm that he was with me all night that night. I didn’t want to go through the bother of dragging him into this mess, but someone told me you’re the chief of police’s niece, and that your husband is the detective investigating my husband’s death. So before you haul me away, accusing me of all kinds of stuff, please call Alain.”

“Alain?” said Odelia, dutifully entering the number into her phone.

“Alain Maury,” said Deith. “He won’t mind answering your questions. And now if there’s nothing else, I would like to talk to my lawyer.” When Odelia made to speak, she held up her hand. “About the inheritance, not this so-called murder.” And with these words, she was off, clutching her Chanel purse under her arms, looking like a woman with not a single care in the world.

Odelia sighed. If only she could exude so much class!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

The day of Harriet’s photoshoot had finally arrived. The prissy Persian was primped and ready, and not a little excited to give of her best and become the first feline in Hampton Cove to grace the cover ofCat Life, only the most popular magazine for cat lovers in the country—perhaps even the world!

The location of the shoot was a studio located on the top floor of Advantage Publishing headquarters, which was a slight disappointment, for Harriet had fully expected the shoot to be an outdoor affair, with some glorious scenery to be displayed behind her. Perhaps the Sahara desert, or the Manhattan skyline.

Instead, they had her in front of a green screen, with the photographer explaining to Odelia and Gran and Scarlett and Marge, who had all decided to be there for this momentous occasion, that they would fill in the background later on. It could be the Eiffel Tower, or the Grand Canyon, or some babbling brook or even an airplane. They hadn’t decided yet, which Harriet thought was outrageous.

Then again, the company had just lost its CEO, so perhaps that was the reason they were so ill-prepared.

“I think you look great, sugar pie,” said Brutus, who was watching from the sidelines as Harriet got done up to perfection by a professional pet groomer.

“I know I look great,” said Harriet as she followed the groomer’s progress in the mirror. That spot on her nose was gone, and no other spots had appeared, so it was all good. Except that she felt that her nose didn’t look its usual roseate pink but had developed a slight brownish discoloration. Nothing Photoshop wouldn’t be able to fix, however—as Brutus kept saying.

“How long is this going to take?” she heard Gran ask. “It’s just that we’re supposed to be working.”

“You’re an intern, aren’t you?” Harriet snapped. “So that means you’re not being paid. Which means you can take as many breaks as you want.”

Gran declined to respond, since it would look a little weird in front of the photographer and his team, but she could tell that the old lady couldn’t wait to get back to the office, and do whatever it was that she was doing there. Some matchmaking nonsense, if Max was to be believed. Just a lot of silliness, at any rate. What could be more important than this photoshoot? Nothing!

“Just sit back and enjoy,” said the groomer as she powdered Harriet’s nose. “This is your moment, sweetie. This is the day you’re going to be immortalized!”

And so she sat back and tried to relax. This was her moment. Her big moment!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

I was watching the scene with a sort of detachment. My mind was whirring with potential suspects and possible scenarios of how Michael Madison could have met such a sticky end. Odelia had told us about her brief interview with Deith Madison, and how she had checked with the woman’s boyfriend, who’d confirmed her alibi. So that was one less suspect to consider, which unfortunately didn’t make things easier for us.

We’d already come to the conclusion that Tom Mitchell was our guy, considering his habit of chucking people he didn’t like out of windows. But a second visit to Melanie Mitchell had only met with the latter’s firm reiteration of her earlier statement that Tom had been home that night—all night.

So he couldn’t have done it either. Unless Melanie was lying, of course.

“She looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?” said Brutus with a sort of whimpering adulation. “These pictures are for the kids.”

“What kids?” I asked. “You guys don’t have kids.”

Brutus winced.“Please keep your voice down!”

“But it’s true,” I said. “You’re neutered and Harriet is spayed.”

“We could always adopt,” he said.

“But—”

“For God’s sakes, Max, don’t spoil Harriet’s finest hour!”

“Okay, fine,” I said. “Forget I said anything.”

“I will. Now please be quiet. This is her moment. Her moment to shine.”

And shine, she did. The groomer had finished prepping her to within an inch of her life, and she had never looked better—or more unnatural. Her fur had a sort of shine to it, which very likely came from a bottle, and her face was lit up.

“She’s glowing, isn’t she, Max?” said Dooley. “She’s actually glowing.”

“Glowing from all the junk they’ve put on her,” I grumbled.

Okay, so I wasn’t in a good mood. Can you blame me? My human had asked me to assist her in cracking this case, and so far all I’d done was move around in circles, not getting any closer to the truth. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The photographer had been getting ready, placing several cameras on a table. I wondered why he needed so many of them. A cover picture is just that: one picture. But as I was about to find out, before he selected the perfect picture, he was going to take dozens and dozens of them. Hundreds, perhaps. And Harriet was sitting through them with perfect—and uncustomary—patience.

During a break in the proceedings, which was necessary to touch up Harriet’s makeup, the photog sauntered over in our direction. “I heard you guys are looking into what happened to Mike?” he said, addressing Odelia.

“Yeah, we’re trying to find out how he died,” Odelia confirmed.

“Good luck with that,” said the photographer, who was a thirty-something male with a ponytail, a long black beard, and plenty of tattoos on his arms and neck. “From what I heard there were no witnesses, so who knows what happened.”

“Did you know Mike Madison?” asked Odelia, who never missed an opportunity to talk to a potential witness.

“Sure. Mike was always interested in every part of the business. He was in here all the time, sitting in on creative meetings, and even accompanying us on shoots. The guy was a micromanager.” He eyed Odelia curiously. “So is it true he was murdered? Only I heard he killed himself, but now rumor has it he was killed.”

“At this stage we are treating his death as suspicious,” Odelia confirmed.

“Christ,” said the guy, sliding a hand along his beard. “This isn’t going to do the stock a lot of good. Which isn’t going to do any of us any good either.”

“You have stock options?”

“Sure. We all have stock options. Only they’re probably going to be worthless now, aren’t they? Unless you got the kind of options that speculate on the stock dropping, of course. But who would bet on the stock dropping? Not me!”

“How is she doing?” asked Gran, referring to Harriet.

“She’s a born model,” said the photographer. “A delight to work with. Some photographers hate working with pets. They’re hard to handle. Won’t sit still, keep shifting position, walk off stage—whatever. But Harriet here is a real pro. Gets the right shot every time. Almost as if she can understand what I say!”

“She probably does,” said Gran with a wink.

“Yeah, right.” The guy had to laugh at this, even though Gran wasn’t kidding.

Harriet was ready for her second round, and the photographer conferred with his art director for a moment, before launching into another series of pictures.

I have to say that the photographer’s words touched a chord. It had set the machinery in my noggin shifting into gear, and before long I was lost in thought.

Could it be?

Mh…

CHAPTER 34

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The scene at the Mitchells was a happy one. Tom was there, of course, and his little brother Harry and cousin Danny, and his mother Melanie. But more importantly, the scene was set for Natalie Ferrara to arrive in their midst, having agreed to pay a visit to Tom’s home, and meet his mother for the first time.

Ever since Tom’s initiative in casting Natalie’s brother from her home, the two young people had lived through a whirlwind romance that had quickly brought them closer together. Natalie’s brother was gone, and had stayed gone, and Natalie’s gratefulness was thus that the couple had gone on several dates.

And now the time had come for Natalie to meet Tom’s dearest mom.

Everything was in position for the auspicious meeting, with Melanie having put on her best dress for the occasion, and Harry and Danny having pitched in to clean up their home as best they could. Harry had handled the vacuum cleaner, and Danny the duster, and together they’d turned the house into a picture of domestic cleanliness.

Meanwhile, Melanie had been busy in the kitchen, preparing a delicious meal. Spring potatoes were on the menu, and veal and peas, with homemade cheesecake for dessert. She just hoped Tom’s new girlfriend would like it. He was nervous enough himself, and not in the mood for a lot of questions, even though she had been peppering him with them, and so had Harry and Danny.

Finally the doorbell chimed and Melanie wiped her hands on her apron, then took it off and draped it over a kitchen chair.“She’s here!” she announced as she hurried into the living room. She glanced round, and saw that the place looked better than it had looked in years, with Harry and Danny standing at attention.

Tom had already gone into the hallway to open the door to his great love. But when he returned, it wasn’t Natalie Ferrara accompanying him but that reporter woman, Odelia Kingsley, and a big, burly male who looked like a cop. Behind them, two cats trailed. The fat orange one the reporter had brought along last time, and a fluffy gray one.

The big guy flashed a badge.“Detective Chase Kingsley,” he said. “Hampton Cove PD.”

She blinked.“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Where is Natalie?” And then it hit her, and she clutched both hands to her face. “Oh, dear God, no. Not again! Did something happen to Natalie? Did she have an accident? Tell me it isn’t true!”

“Natalie is fine,” the Kingsley woman assured her. “We’re not here about her.”

“So what are you here for?” asked Melanie, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you better take a seat, Mrs. Mitchell,” said Mrs. Kingsley. “In fact why don’t we all take a seat?”

Melanie plunked herself down on the couch, staring at the twosome.“What is this?” she asked. “What happened?”

“I’m afraid we’re both here in an official capacity, Mrs. Mitchell,” said the cop. “Odelia here is a police consultant, and I’m the detective in charge of the investigation into the murder of Michael Madison.”

“Again with this murder business? What’s that got to do with us?” She glanced to her eldest, but Tom seemed as stunned by this development as she was.

“Because at this stage of the proceedings,” said the detective, “I think we have a fairly accurate idea of what happened that night.”

“You see,” the Kingsley woman said, “all this time we were looking at people who held a grudge against Michael, but instead we should have been looking for the people who had something to gain from his death. So you might say we were looking in the wrong direction, which is exactly what the murderer wanted.”

“There were plenty of people who held a grudge against Madison,” Detective Kingsley continued. “But not that many who had anything to gain. In fact the only person who benefited from Michael Madison’s death was an investor.”

“An investor?” asked Melanie. “I don’t understand.”

“It took us a while to see the full picture ourselves,” said Mrs. Kingsley. “You see, every employee of the Advantage Publishing Company is given stock options when they sign their contract. It’s up to them if they choose to take advantage of those options, but most do. Of course you want the stock of the company to go up, in which case your options will increase in value. Not down, reducing the value.”

“Okay,” said Melanie, wondering what they were talking about.

“But there is a different kind of option,” said the detective. “It’s called a put option, and it speculates that the stock of a company will go down. In other words decrease in value. The more the stock drops, the bigger the gain. And since options work on the principle of leverage, the value increase of the put option is many times greater than the value decrease of the stock.”

“Typically when the CEO of a company dies, or as in this case seemingly commits suicide, it will send the stock plummeting,” Mrs. Kingsley continued the complicated tale. “And in the case of Advantage, that’s exactly what happened. The day after Madison’s apparent suicide, Advantage stockdropped twenty percent. Which isn’t so strange, since investors don’t like uncertainty. At the same time, though, the investor with the put options made a quite spectacular return.”

“Uh-huh,” said Melanie. It all sounded like Chinese to her. She turned to Harry. “Do you understand anything the detective just said, Harry?” She explained, “Harry is the brainy one. Always hacking things. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“How many times do we have to tell you, Mom,” said Tom. “Harry isn’t a hacker. He’s an investor. He buys and sells stock on his… computer.” Suddenly Tom’s eyes widened, even as Harry’s eyes dipped to the carpet, and a blush suffused his face.

A pregnant pause fell, and all eyes turned to Harry.

“Harry?” said Melanie, as something tightened in her throat. “What is this?”

“Nothing, Mom,” Harry muttered, but she could see her youngest was lying.

“Harry! What did you do?!” she demanded.

But Harry only seemed to shrink more into himself.

“I’m afraid your son Harry has been speculating on a decrease of Advantage Publishing stock,” said Detective Kingsley. “The day before Michael Madison died, he invested all his previous winnings into put options, effectively betting that Advantage stock would drop. The day after Michael died, he executed those options, netting himself an impressive gain of one hundred thousand dollars.”

Melanie’s jaw dropped. “One hundred thousand!”

“The only reason he could have known that Michael would die, is if he had a hand in his death himself.”

“But he never left the house,” Melanie said. “None of my boys did.” She realized as she said it, how unconvincing her words sounded, even to her own ears.

“Are you sure about that, Melanie?” asked Odelia Kingsley gently.

Melanie swallowed, then said hesitantly,“Yes?”

“Let me tell you what we think happened,” said the detective. “When his cousin told him about this whole business with the stock options, Harry smelled an opportunity to make some good money. So he and Danny devised a plan. A couple of days before the murder, Danny, who knows the building inside and out, managed to get a hold of Madison’s badge, and handed it to Harry, who was waiting in the parking lot. Harry cloned the badge on his computer, and Danny quickly returned the original badge before Madison found out it was missing.

“So the night of the murder, Danny snuck into the building using the cloned badge, which is why security thought the only person in the building was Madison. Danny snuck up to Madison’s office, knowing all about the man’s habit of working late into the night. He entered the office when Madison’s back was turned, overpowered him and shoved him out of the window. He then used the same badge to exit the building and check the man’s vital signs to make sure he was dead. Then he went home to give his cousin the good news.”

Danny’s eyes had gone wide. “But how do you know all this?!” he cried, getting up. But he sank down on the couch again, realizing he’d just given himself away.

“You idiot!” Harry yelled. “You stupid, stupid idiot!”

“Harry?” said Melanie, a tremor in her voice. “Tell me this isn’t true.”

Harry shrugged.“You’re always complaining about money, Mom. How you can’t pay for this or that or whatever. So I just figured we could use the money to pay off the mortgage. Own the house free and clear, never having to worry again.”

“But Harry—killing a man? How could you?”

“He was a corporate rat, Mom. The same kind of corporate rat who are always threatening to kick us out of our house. So instead of them screwing us over, I decided to screw him over for a change. And it worked. It actually worked.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, crumpling like a used tissue.

Tom had to support her, or she would have fallen to the floor.

The doorbell rang a second time, and Mrs. Kingsley went to open it. Natalie Ferrara walked in, but if she had expected to find a happy scene, she was sorely disappointed. Instead, she walked in on an arrest in progress, with both Harry and Danny Mitchell being apprehended for the murder of Michael Madison.

And so what was supposed to be the happiest day in Melanie Mitchell’s life, turned out to be one of the darkest ones instead.

CHAPTER 35

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“The thing I should have asked myself,” I explained, “was the basic question any detective should always ask themselves: who stood to gain from Michael Madison’s death. But instead we all focused on who simply wanted him dead.”

“I think you did great, Max,” said Brutus. “You got there in the end, and that’s all that matters.”

We were seated on the porch swing in Marge and Tex’s backyard, the four of us lined up in a row. We’d eaten a nice meal, consisting of not-so-vegetarian pieces of chicken filet, and now we were relaxing and doing some people watching.

“I could have gotten there sooner,” I said. “But who would have thought a fifteen-year-old and his cousin would be behind this whole sordid business?”

“And Danny seemed like such a nice kid,” said Dooley. “I really liked him.”

“I think we all liked him. He was very helpful and kind. But he was also a killer, and one thing doesn’t seem to exclude the other.”

“Poor Tom,” said Dooley. “Now that he finally got the girl, he’s lost his brother and his cousin.”

“Yeah, tough,” I agreed. Though Natalie would be a great support for Melanie, who had taken the arrest of her son and nephew hard, as was to be expected.

“Harry did it to help his mom,” said Harriet. “And besides, he’s a minor, so the judge will probably go easy on him.”

“Even if he did it to help his mom,” I said, “murder is still murder, Harriet.”

“I know, I know.” All this talk about murder had distracted attention from her photoshoot, and she didn’t like it. She glanced over to the humans, and when she saw they were also discussing the murder, she slumped. “This was supposed to be the best moment of my life—and you ruined it, Max! You and your murder!”

“It wasn’t my murder, Harriet,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” she said moodily. “But nobody is going to care about my cover now. It’s all going to be about Madison and the terrible things that happened.”

“I’m sure by the time the copy ofCat Life with your cover comes out,” I said, “people will have forgotten all about this murder business.”

She perked up at this.“You think?”

“Of course. And I’m sure Marge and Odelia will buy up several copies, and frame your cover and give it pride of place in their homes.”

“Oh, I would like that so much,” she said, clasping her paws together. “They could hang one in the living room, and one in the bedroom, and one in the bathroom. And the toilet, of course. Very important. So they can study my portrait when they’re doing their business.”

Somehow the notion of having to look at Harriet when I’m doing my business didn’t appeal to me all that much. Then again, humans are different. They probably love looking at the portrait of a pretty Persian when they go to the smallest room in the house.

“So how long are you going to keep working for Advantage?” asked Charlene as she leafed through a copy ofGlimmer, which seemed to have become her favorite magazine.

“We stopped working last week,” said Gran. “Tex needs me,” she explained. “And besides, our work was done.”

Tex didn’t look like he particularly needed Gran, but since he was busy working the grill, he wasn’t in a position to protest.

“We got Tom and Natalie together,” said Scarlett, “and so Gabi’s job is finished.”

“Are you going to go undercover in every situation where people need Gabi’s assistance?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Who knows?” said Gran, darting a glance at her friend. “We haven’t discussed it yet, but it was definitely an interesting experience.”

“Yeah, I feel invigorated,” Scarlett agreed.

“It’s nice to be needed, especially at our age,” said Gran.

“Oh, if you’re looking for a job, you can always work for me,” said Charlene. “My secretary is always complaining I give her too much to do. So you could give her a hand.”

“Or you could work for me,” said Marge. “There’s always work at the library.”

“No, thanks,” said Gran. “Like I said, Tex needs me. And I’m sure pretty soon another interesting letter will come in for Gabi, and then Scarlett and I can work our magic once more. We’re getting pretty good at this stuff, aren’t we, honey?”

“Absolutely,” said Scarlett. “And I like this a lot better than the neighborhood watch business.” She touched her face. “A girl needs her beauty sleep, and the watch was cutting into my sleep.”

“Same here,” said Gran, as she yawned and stretched.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Uncle Alec, who had never been a big fan of the neighborhood watch. “Police business should be handled by trained professionals only, not by amateurs like you,” he admonished his mother and her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Gran. She darted a glance at her son-in-law and lowered her voice. “So is everything all right with you guys?”

Marge nodded.“Absolutely,” she said. “In fact things have never been better.”

“Good to know,” said Gran, settling back. “Looks like all’s well that ends well.”

And as we watched from our perch on the porch, we saw how Charlene held up her copy ofGlimmer, then handed it to Uncle Alec. A silent communication passed between the couple, and moments later Charlene excused herself and removed herself from the select company, soon followed by Uncle Alec.

Marge picked up the magazine and checked the article Charlene had been reading.“15 More Ways to Spice Up Your Love Life,” she read, then darted a keen look in her husband’s direction.

I closed my eyes for just a few moments, but when I opened them again, Marge and Tex were gone, and Odelia was reading that same article. She handed it to Chase, who grinned and whispered,“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” And before I knew it, they were heading through the opening in the hedge, hand in hand like a couple of lovebirds, and skedaddled!

“Where did all the humans go?” asked Harriet, who had noticed the same phenomenon.

“Uncle Alec and Charlene are in those bushes over there,” said Dooley, who had kept his eyes peeled. “Marge and Tex went into the house. And Odelia and Chase went home.”

The only ones left were Gran and Scarlett. And Grace, of course, who was studying a flower, and ripping off its petals, possibly playing a game of‘He loves me, he loves me not.’

Gran and Scarlett shared a look of satisfaction.“That article you wrote is a big hit,” Gran said, picking up the magazine.

“Of course it is,” said Scarlett. “I could write a dozen articles like that.”

“You know? I think I could get used to this.”

“What?”

“Well, spreading sweetness and light, you know.”

“Me too. I like making people happy. It makes me feel good inside.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. I say from now on we focus on the business of spreading joy and happiness in the world.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Who else can we make happy?”

They both thought for a moment.

“Marcie and Ted from next door?” Scarlett suggested.

“They seem happy enough,” said Gran sadly.

“Kurt Mayfield?” Scarlett said, referring to Odelia and Chase’s neighbor.

“Nobody likes a lost cause,” Gran grumbled.

Then I happened to catch Gran’s eye, and I could see her eyes widen as an idea struck that buzzing brain of hers.

“No,” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Shanille is single,” said Gran, perking up.

“Please leave me alone,” I said.

“And so are dozens of other nice girls.”

“Absolutely not!” I cried, hopping down from the porch.

“Maybe Max is gay,” Scarlett said. “Or maybe he likes dogs.”

“I’m not gay, and I don’t like dogs!” I yelled, starting to panic.

“Why don’t you let us set you up on a nice date, mh?” said Gran.

“I don’t want a date!” I cried, looking for a way out of this nightmare.

“I like dates, Max,” said Dooley. “They’re sweet and contain lots of fiber.”

“Come with me, Dooley,” I said urgently, as I started removing myself from the scene. “If you know what’s good for you, you will come with me right now! And whatever you do, don’t look into their eyes!”

“Max! Dooley!” Gran yelled. “Come back here! Let us spice up your life! It’s what we do!”