a35b0eaad51a1181c0b99b6648801e69

She smiled.“He probably will.” Still, she felt bad about having caused both her uncle and Dan so much trouble.

“Anyhoo,” said her uncle, firing up the engine, “looks like I can put this case to rest now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve got my suspect, and I’ve interviewed pretty much everyone connected to this case. So now it’s up to the prosecutor to get a conviction.”

Alarmed, she turned to him.“You’re not going to charge Jasper?”

“Of course I’m charging Jasper. He’s got motive, means and opportunity. The perfect trifecta. Of all the suspects, we’re most likely to convict him.”

“But he didn’t do it. Even Bryony said he would never harm Johnny.”

“He was a boy toy past his prime, honey. He saw other, younger guys moving in and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was out.”

“But Johnny was going to marry him!”

“He didn’t know that. If he had, things might have gone differently.”

She shook her head.“I’m sure he didn’t do it.”

“You keep forgetting his fingerprints were on that vial, Odelia. This is an open-and-shut case from where I’m sitting, and I’m sure the District Attorney’s Office will agree with me on that. Easiest conviction ever.”

“This isn’t over yet,” she grumbled, putting her feet up on the dash.

He grimaced.“Are you sure you aren’t part bloodhound, honey?”

She very well might be. Her uncle dropped her off at the newspaper, and she went in to find Dan and tell him to expect a call from the mayor.

“Let him call,” said Dan. “I’ll tell him to go to hell.”

“He’ll probably ask you to fire me, Dan.”

“So? I’m not going to fire my best reporter.”

She grinned, greatly relieved.“I’m also your only reporter.”

“Well, all the more reason not to fire you.”

“But what if the mayor threatens to go after your advertisers?”

“Look, the Hampton Cove Gazette has been around for over forty years, and will still be here when Mayor Turner is long gone. Politicians have tried to mess with me and my paper before, and failed. My advertisers don’t care about politics. They care about having a paper that’s widely circulated and popular with its readers, and they know that in order to do that you need ace reporters such as yourself. You just keep doing what you do best, and I’ll tell Mayor Turner that he can stick his threats where the sun don’t shine.”

She smiled at the elderly man.“You’re the best, Dan, did you know that?”

“I do, but I don’t mind hearing it again from time to time.”

“Well, you are.”

He spread his arms.“Don’t we make a great team? The best editor and the best reporter, annoying the heck out of the celebrities and politicians in this town. Now you go out there and do your thing. You have my blessing.”

Chapter 21

I’d decided to take an extended nap, and so had Dooley. After spending all of the previous day out and about, and half the night as well, I was feeling the strain. So today we decided to take a break. If Brutus wanted to traipse around town all day, that was his business, but we were going to sleep.

Odelia had left early that morning, promising she was fine without us for a day. She was going to interview some more people, and if she needed help she’d let us know. So when suddenly a grating voice sounded right next to me, I figured it was Odelia. “All right, all right,” I muttered. “One minute.”

As usual I took up one half of the couch in Odelia’s living room and Dooley the other half. I’d been dreaming of little tweety birds sitting in a tree, and Princess and I had just chased them to the top branch. We were both perched on that branch like Kate and Leo in Titanic, and I was yelling “I’m the king of the world!” when someone said, “I need your help, Maxie, baby.”

Only one cat called me Maxie baby, and suddenly my dream turned into a nightmare. A thump on my shoulder told me this wasn’t a dream at all, but brutal reality. And when I opened my eyes and found myself staring into the face of Brutus, I groaned. “Oh, go away,” and closed my eyes again.

“I need your help. Chase is leaving town and so am I if I don’t stop him.”

A jolt of elation shot through me. Had I heard this right? Was Brutus leaving town.“You’re leaving?” I asked, sitting bolt upright now.

“Yeah,” he said, looking none too pleased.

I saw that Harriet was seated next to him, and it was obvious she’d been crying. Dooley, now coming out of his slumber, muttered, “Who’s leaving?”

“Brutus,” I told him.

“Hey, that’s great,” he said blithely. “So when is he going?”

“This isn’t funny, Dooley,” said Harriet between two sniffs. “Chase resigned. The chief didn’t want to fire him but he resigned himself.”

“Yeah, we were there when it happened. Right outside the window.”

“What happened?” I asked, genuinely interested now.

“It was that horrible drug dealer Chase caught yesterday,” Brutus said.

“Odelia caught that drug dealer, not Chase,” I corrected him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. The creep filed charges for police harassment, and his lawyer must have talked to the Commissioner, Chase’s former boss, and he talked to the mayor of this crappy little town and forced the Chief’s hand.”

“Only Chief Alec refused to fire Chase so Chase decided to quit,” Harriet said. “Such an honorable man. And now he’s being pressured to leave.”

I scratched my head.“That’s… surprising.” I wondered what Odelia would have to say about this. She and Chase hadn’t exactly hit it off, though I had the impression she was warming to the guy. And now he was leaving. So was this a good thing or a bad thing? Hard to know for sure. My first instinct was to applaud this outcome, since it meant we’d never see Brutus again.

“It gets worse,” now a voice spoke from the door. I’d been so focused on Brutus’s story I hadn’t heard Odelia walk in, but when she took a seat on the couch, between Dooley and me, I could see she wasn’t in the best of moods.

“Worse?” cried Harriet. “Oh, no!”

“I just interviewed Veronica George and her mother, Bryony Pistol, Johnny’s wife, and I’m convinced that Veronica is behind this whole thing. I think she’s the one who called the Commissioner and got Chase to quit.”

In a few brief words, she gave us the gist of her interview.

“So you think Veronica and that dealer are still an item?” I asked.

“I’m sure they are. And the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to suspect they might be involved in Johnny’s murder.”

“But why would Veronica kill her own father?” asked Brutus.

“Money,” she said simply. “Johnny was divorcing Bryony so he could marry Jasper, which meant Veronica would lose a big chunk of her inheritance, since the bulk of the estate would go to Jasper in case something happened to Johnny. If she killed him before the divorce was final, Bryony inherited everything, and by extension Veronica. So that’s motive for you.”

Brutus thought about this for a moment.“You might be right.”

“Veronica and Donovan Rubb could easily have set this up together,” Odelia continued. “To get his hands on spider venom was a piece of cake for the drug dealer, as he must have all kinds of shady contacts.”

“But what about Jasper’s fingerprints?” asked Harriet.

She shook her head.“Somehow they must have planted those prints on that vial. I don’t know how, but that’s the only explanation.” She turned to me. “What I want you guys to do is spy on Veronica and Rubb. I want to catch those two together. If I can prove they never broke up, in spite of what Veronica says,maybe I can pressure them into confessing to the murder.”

“All right,” I agreed immediately. I’d had my nap, so I was good to go.

“Sure thing, toots,” said Brutus, and I winced.

Odelia smiled down at the black cat.“So are you guys all working together now? That’s a first.”

“I don’t want to leave this town,” Brutus admitted. “I like it here. I’ve found some great friends…” He gave me a poke in the gut. “And even my sweetheart…” He winked at Harriet. “And Chase likes it here, too.”

Odelia nodded.“It’s not fair for him to lose his job over these false charges. We have to set the record straight and clear his name once and for all.”

“I caught him packing just now,” Brutus said. “And I overheard him talking to a friend on the phone about a job in private security, which is just a shame. He loves being a cop. It’s all he ever wanted to be. And now this…”

Odelia was right. It wasn’t fair. Even though I wasn’t a fan of Brutus, we had to make this right, even if it meant having the brute around for a while longer. Or maybe even indefinitely. So I decided to make the big sacrifice.

“We’ll help you save your human’s career,” I told Brutus.

“Thanks, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus, and I could see that he meant it.

Chapter 22

For the occasion, Odelia decided to outfit us all with tracking devices. She’d gotten those online a while back, after watching a documentary about a research team following a bunch of cats around for a couple of nights, to see what they were up to. Track their nocturnal wanderings around the small town where they lived. So Odelia had bought us trackers so she’d know where we were at all times. Combined with a panic button, we could send her a signal, and she could come and find us wherever we were holed up.

It was a neat system, and we’d tested it out around the house but had never used it on a mission before. She quickly outfitted the four of us with trackers and panic buttons, both attached to our collars, and then we were all set. I had to hand it to Odelia: when she got mad, she got even. It would be a lesson for Veronica George: never mess with a small-town reporter.

Odelia dropped us off at the house where Veronica lived with her mother, and parked her car around the corner. If she was right, and the woman was still involved with that lowlife drug dealer, it wouldn’t be hard for us to catch the two of them together. Then all we had to do was press our buttons.

When the four of us trudged up the driveway, we were almost flattened by a Mercedes GLS driving off and spraying us with gravel. I caught a glimpse of the driver and thought it just might be Veronica, which meant we’d already lost her. Luckily Harriet had jumped to the other side of the car and said, “It was Bryony Pistol. I recognized her from the pictures.”

Hand it to Harriet. She’s a regularStar, US Weekly andPeoplereader.

“Great. Let’s hope her daughter decided to stay home,” I said.

The four of us followed the driveway, which led around the house, and found ourselves in a large flower garden extending into a pool area similar to Johnny’s, only smaller. Stretched out on a pool chair was a young woman reading a copy ofStar, the cover announcing lots of‘Stars Without Makeup.’

“That’s Veronica!” hissed Harriet.

She was dressed in a pink bikini, sunglasses perched on her nose, and looked bored. So we hunkered down in the bushes, and took turns watching the pop singer’s daughter. Being a private investigator is all about the stakeout, Odelia had once told me, and this prolonged vigil proved her right.

Soon it wasn’t just Veronica who looked bored, but us, too.

“So you still believe a conspiracy of escorts killed Johnny?” Dooley asked Brutus.

“Right,” I said with a smile. “The Australian boy toy conspiracy. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“I have to admit Odelia’s theory is pretty sound, too,” said Brutus, idly toying with a beetle. “And it fits right in with my boy toy conspiracy theory.”

“Toy boy,” murmured Harriet, who’d closed her eyes.

“Whatever,” grunted Brutus. “That’s the difference between a true detective like myself and amateurs like you and Dooley, Maxie. A true detective comes up with new theories all the time, then checks them against the facts and either discards them or expounds on them. Is it possible a conspiracy of Australian boy toys killed Johnny? Sure. Do the facts bear out this theory? They might, if Chase had been allowed to carry on his work.”

I frowned.“So what you’re saying is that there’s a conspiracy to remove Chase from his job to prevent him from uncovering the truth?”

“A conspiracy to protect a conspiracy,” said Dooley. “My mind is officially blown.”

“Look, this Veronica chick and that drug guy conspired to remove Chase from the investigation to protect the conspiracy of Australian boy toys.”

“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” I asked.

“That’s your problem, Maxie, baby. You don’t have what it takes to be a truly great detective. You lack imagination.”

“So we’re conspiring to end the conspiracy that’s designed to protect the conspiracy,” muttered Dooley. “Wicked.”

“See?” asked Brutus. “Your buddy Dooley gets it.”

“You’re so clever, Brutus,” said Harriet. “The smartest cat I know.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “C’mere, babe.”

And before long they were exchanging kisses, Harriet giggling wildly.

“Oh, please kill me now,” Dooley sighed.

Because I didn’t want to watch Brutus and Harriet, I stared out at Veronica instead, but as far as I could see nothing was happening with her. She’d picked up another magazine, this one promising to expose Kim Kardashian’s beauty secrets, and from time to time she picked up her phone and tapped the screen,presumably texting her friends.

“How long is this going to take?” asked Brutus, when he and Harriet had tired of their frolicking.

“See, this is the reality of being a true detective,” I told the black cat. “Waiting around for hours and hours, hoping something will happen.”

“And hours and hours,” said Dooley.

“Booooring,” Brutus grunted. “What about some action? A car chase?”

“There are no car chases in a detective’s life,” I said. “This isn’tDie Hard, Brutus, and you’re not Bruce Willis.”

“Did you know I was named after Bruce? True story.”

“You were named after Brutus,” I said. “Not Bruce.”

“Brutus, Bruce, same difference.”

“There is a difference. Brutus was a Roman senator who conspired to kill Caesar, while Bruce is an actor known for—”

“Shush,” said Brutus.

I reared up.“Don’t shush me, Brutus.”

“Shush,” he repeated, and gestured at Veronica. I looked over and saw that she’d gotten up, texting furiously, and was walking toward the house.

“Something’s happening,” Brutus said.

“Very astute of you.”

“Probably went to fetch another magazine,” muttered Dooley.

But when Veronica didn’t return it was obvious something was up.

“We have to see what’s going on,” I said. “Which means taking a closer look.”

“Why don’t we send in a volunteer?” Brutus suggested. “I mean, if the four of us all go over there together it will look suspicious, right?”

In spite of myself, I had to agree he had a point.

“All right. I’ll go,” I said.

“No, I’ll go,” he said. “It’s my human that needs saving, so I should go.”

“Yes, but I know how to sneak up on someone without being seen.”

“And I don’t?” he scoffed. “I’m the best sneaker-upper around, buddy. Just watch me sneak.” And before I could stop him, he was off and away, sneaking toward the house, doing his best to keep his belly low to the flagged terrace, his tail down and his ears flat. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

“Doesn’t he look wonderful?” gushed Harriet. “A true detective.”

“Not really,” said Dooley.

Harriet turned on him.“What’s with all the criticism, huh? You can’t say one good word about Brutus, while he’s the most wonderful cat I know.”

“So of all the cats you know, he’s the best?” asked Dooley, annoyed.

“Yes, he is.”

“Greater than all the cats you’ve ever known? Cats you’ve lived with all your life? Cats like Max… and me?”

She hesitated, but then said,“Brutus is different.”

“Oh, I’ll say he’s different.”

“See?” she said. “Again with the criticism. You’re my friend, Dooley, so why can’t you simply be happy for me? Happy that I found my soulmate?”

He shrugged.“I am happy for you.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

I grinned when Dooley made a face behind Harriet’s back. Then I returned my attention to Brutus, who’d now reached the house and was sneaking inside, still staying low, even though anyone could spot a black cat against white pavement. Suddenly he popped his head back out and waved us over frantically. “We better get over there,” I said, quite needlessly.

“She’s leaving!” he cried when we’d joined him.

I darted a look inside, and saw he was right: Veronica, now talking animatedly into her phone, had pulled on jeans shorts and a crop top and snatched a small clutch from the table before walking out of the living room.

We quickly hurried out and followed the driveway back to the front of the house, just in time to see a taxi pull up and Veronica get in.

“What do we do now?” asked Harriet, panicking.

“Relax, toots,” said Brutus. “We just press this nifty button and warn Odelia that our target is on the move.”

“She’ll never get here in time,” I told him. “One of us has to follow that cab.”

“I’ll do it,” said Brutus. “Just like Bruce, right?”

But while we were holding a strategy meeting, the taxi was already pulling away, so in a spur of the moment kind of thing, I broke into a run.

“Hey, where are you going?!” Brutus cried.

While the car picked up speed, I jumped up onto the trunk, then onto the roof, and grasped the antenna and held on for dear life.

“Press that button!” I yelled, since I couldn’t reach it now.

“Maxie, baby!” cried Brutus. “Don’t let go!”

Well, that was certainly my intention. Maybe Brutus was right after all. Sometimes being a true detective is a little bit like being Bruce inDie Hard.

The taxi took us to the outskirts of town, and soon I saw where we were going: the strip mall where Rubb’s health food store was located. He pulled up right in front of the now closed shop, and Veronica got out of the cab.

Relieved we’d finally stopped moving, I managed to crawl down from the roof. My hair was a mess, and I think I’d swallowed more bugs than the windshield on a sixteen-ton truck. If this was what it was like to be Bruce, Brutus was welcome to him.

Veronica checked left and right, and then, to my surprise, disappeared inside the shop, which seemed to be open for business after all. But then, as I watched, an unseen hand quickly turned the sign from‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’

Since I couldn’t follow her inside, I decided to walk around back. I soon found that the backside of these shops was even dingier than the front, and when I’d finally located the one that belonged to The Vitamin King, I selected an oil drum for my own and hopped on top of it. Grimy windows looked out across a junk-littered, weed-infested patch of yard, and I didn’t see much at first. But then, as I pressed my nose up against the pane, I saw I was just in time to witness the teary reunion scene between the two lovers. Bingo.

I smiled. So much for a restraining order. There was little restraint when Veronica threw herself into Rubb’s arms and kissed him passionately.

Chapter 23

Odelia had parked her pickup around the corner from Bryony Pistol’s place while her feline detectives did their thing. During the long wait, she’d sat in the backseat, working on her article, pecking away at her laptop. It all fit. Veronica must have heard from her mother that Johnny was going to divorce her and marry Jasper, and she must have decided she had to do away with her father to make sure his large fortune came her way one day, and not Jasper’s. With the help of her lover, she’d planted that vial, and had somehow managed to get Jasper’s prints on it, to cast the blame on him.

She’d also made sure there was absolutely nothing to connect her to Rubb, even going so far as to file a restraining order and make sure she wasn’t seen with him. Which meant she and Rubb must have devised this plan months ago. When she moved to Hampton Cove, Rubb had simply done the same, quicklybecoming Johnny’s go-to guy for everything drug-related.

What an utterly devious couple, she thought bitterly.

When the signal came, she jumped, and stared at her smartphone screen. The signal was confusing: three dots were stationary in front of the house, while a fourth dot, Max’s, was moving at a fast clip. She decided to pick up Harriet, Dooley and Brutus and then follow Max to wherever he was going.

The moment she stopped in front of the house, Brutus, Harriet and Dooley all started yelling simultaneously. The gist of it was that Max was now clutching to a taxi for dear life, while it carted Veronica away.

“Follow that cab!” Dooley finally managed. He turned to the others. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Good for you,” said Brutus, hopping into the pickup. He appeared disgruntled, and probably annoyed he wasn’t the one clutching that cab.

So she followed that cab, and it took her to the strip mall and the health food store where she and Chase had caught Rubb the day before.

When she drew near, she saw that the small dot indicated that Max was at the back of The Vitamin King, so she parked her car and carefully made her way over there, the three cats in her wake, like a regular Nancy Drew.

“This is so exciting!” cried Harriet.

“Yeah, like being in an action movie,” grunted Brutus.

The stores all had small paved backyards, where the owners collected garbage and smoked a cigarette while on a break. It didn’t take them long to find the backyard that belonged to Rubb’s business, especially since a large red cat was perched on an oil drum and peering in through the window.

“Hey, Max,” she whispered, sneaking up to the ginger tabby.

Max gave a violent start, and practically toppled off the drum.

“You scared the bejesus out of me,” he growled. Then he gestured to the window. “They’re in there, and they’re showing very little restraint!”

“Great,” she said, glad that her hunch had proved correct. She slowly craned her neck, her smartphone at the ready, and saw that Max was right: the kissing couple were obviously very happy to see each other. She quickly snapped a few shots, figuring she’d blur out the nekkid bits later in Photoshop. Readers of the Gazette didn’t like their stories X-rated.

“Gotcha,” she muttered.

The three other cats now also joined Max on that oil drum, and this proved to be their downfall. Literally. The oil drum suddenly pitched, and then clattered to the ground with a terrible clanking sound. Uh-oh. She ducked down immediately, but too late. The window above her was pushed open, and Donovan Rubb’s perfectly bearded face appeared. When he caught sight of her, he shouted, “You again!”

She gave him a cheery wave from her vantage point.“Hi, there, Donny.”

But instead of returning her greeting, he suddenly latched onto her smartphone, which she was clutching in her hand, and gave her a push.

“Hey! That’s mine!” she yelled as she fell backward.

“And now it’s mine!” he yelled back, and then disappeared.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, but by the time she was at the window again, Rubb was gone, and so was Veronica. Great. She lost them.

“This is so d?j?-vu!” she groaned.

She retraced her steps, four cats on her heels, but when she arrived at her car she saw that Rubb was already straddling his trusty red Ducati—probably fresh from the police impound—and Veronica was wrapping herself around him on the pillion. They were going to make a run for it. Of course.

She raced to her pickup, but by the time she was behind the wheel, the Ducati was already speeding away. She held the door for the four cats, who piled in behind her, and then she slammed the door, shoved the car in gear and was off behind the fleeing Bonnie and Clyde.

As she raced after the Ducati, her mind flashed back to the previous day, when she’d gone through this exact same experience, only with Chase by her side. And suddenly she felt a little melancholic. Whatever his faults, Chase was a great cop, and he would be missed in this town. No, she had to admit, actually she’d miss him. How crazy was that?

Just like the day before, Rubb took the road through town, and once again, she lagged behind, dodging pedestrians and making sure she didn’t clip anybody while he simply zigzagged through traffic and was soon a blip on the horizon. Once she’d cleared the city limits, she picked up speed, pushing the aged truck to its limits, and had soon caught up with the Ducati.

“Pull over!” she shouted when she came up next to the couple.

“Never!” Rubb shouted back.

“Back off, bitch!” Veronica screamed.

She gritted her teeth, resisting a strong urge to send the bike into the ditch again, but then soon found she didn’t have to, as Brutus suddenly launched himself out of the passenger window and latched onto Rubb’s face, his claws finding purchase on the hipster dealer’s beard!

Rubb screamed a very unmanly scream when suddenly he found his vision impaired by ten inches of black cat and his face used as a pincushion. The Ducati sailed straight into the ditch, sending Rubb and Veronica flying.

Odelia brought her pickup to a stop and quickly jumped out to assess the damage. To her surprise, she saw that Brutus was still stuck to Rubb’s face, like the Facehugger from Alien, refusing to let go. Both Rubb and Veronica were howling, though Rubb’s howls sounded a little muffled.

“I think you can let go now, Brutus,” said Odelia, and the cat did, immediately starting to lick his paws to remove the stench of human.

“Yippee-ki-yay, asshole,” he said with a Cheshire grin.

Chapter 24

It was a pity Chase wasn’t there to outfit Veronica and her drug dealer boyfriend with a nice set of handcuffs, but since they both looked pretty banged up, and Rubb’s Ducati looked like a total loss, Odelia didn’t think they’d skedaddle this time. She sat cross-legged across from the couple.

“So what about that restraining order, huh?” she asked Veronica. “Looks like it didn’t restrain you from going near this freak.”

“Hey, that’s Mr. Freak to you,” grunted Rubb.

She’d retrieved her phone from the dealer, who now sat spitting out cat hair and checking his face for puncture holes. She leafed through the snapshots she’d taken of the couple.

“Pretty hot,” she said as she held out her phone so they could have a peek. “I wonder what my uncle will say when he sees these. Oh, I know. He’ll say that the two of you planned the murder of John Paul George together. Who was the brains behind the operation? I’ll go out on a limb here and say that it was you, Veronica. The doting daughter?”

“You think I killed my father? You’re even crazier than I thought.”

“Well, I also thought you and lover boy over here were still seeing each other, so not so crazy after all.” She pointed an accusing finger at Veronica, whose tank top was on backward. In her haste to get dressed, she’d missed that minor detail. Like her boyfriend, she looked a little frazzled, and was now checking a broken fingernail. No other bones were broken, though.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said.

“That’s all right. I have plenty to say to you. You weren’t happy about Johnny divorcing your mother and marrying Jasper, which would make you lose out on several hundred million dollars, so you figured you’d better kill him now before it was too late. So you asked your boyfriend to supply the venom—where did you get that, Donny? I guess a man with your contacts would have no trouble acquiring that kind of stuff, huh? And then somehow you managed to get Jasper’s fingerprints on the vial to make him take the fall and voila. Easy peasy. Now all you needed to do was make sure that there was no connection between you and Donny, so you faked a breakup, which I’m sure made your mother happy, and even went so far as to get a restraining order.”

“All lies,” said Veronica, but she looked like the fight had left her. She knew that Odelia was holding all the cards now, with those pictures of her.

“Tell her about Chase,” Brutus supplied helpfully. “How she set him up.”

“And then there’s that little matter of Chase Kingsley,” said Odelia.

“What about him?”

“He never did assault you, did he? You just made that up because Commissioner Necker asked you to. You cut a deal so Donny would walk free, in exchange for your testimony against Detective Kingsley.”

Veronica was giving her just about the meanest look any woman had ever given her, but Odelia didn’t care. She had proof, and she wasn’t letting go.

She tapped her phone.“You know what I’ll do? I’ll publish these on the front page of tomorrow’s Hampton Cove Gazette. Let the good people of this town draw their own conclusions. I’ll blur out the X-rated parts, of course. Don’t want to shock people more than is strictly necessary.”

“You can’t do that,” said Veronica hoarsely. She looked appalled.

“I can and I will,” she promised.

“Look, I didn’t kill my father, all right?” said Veronica. “I would never do that. I loved that man. He was a deeply flawed individual, but he was also a very sweet guy. The problem was that he had the mental age of a fifteen-year-old, which made me feel like I was dealing with a younger brother, not a father. I still loved him, though, like the funny, goofy guy he was. And as far as money is concerned, he set up a trust fund in my name when I was born. I don’t know how much is in there but last time I checked there were millions. So it’s not exactly as if I’m hard up or anything. And I was happy for Jasper. He’s more mature than my dad ever was, and he was like a second father to me. He deserved everything that was coming to him, including the wedding. It wasn’t easy being Dad’s significant other—just ask my mom. Jasper had to make a lot of sacrifices over the years, and I didn’t begrudge him anything.”

“Millions of dollars?” asked Rubb, eyes wide. “So you’re loaded, babe?”

She smiled.“Pretty much. I didn’t want to tell you as I was afraid you’d only like me for my money and not for me.”

“You told me the only money you had was your allowance.”

“Which is probably more than you’ve made in your entire life.”

He whistled through his teeth.“Well, I’ll be damned, babe.”

“Look, what about the poison?” Odelia asked, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. Veronica should be confessing by now, but instead she was making a pretty convincing case she was innocent in JPG’s murder.

“What poison?” asked Veronica with a frown.

“The spider venom. The only one who could have supplied that was your boyfriend.”

“Hey, don’t look at me, crazy lady,” said Rubb. “Like I told you yesterday, I had nothing to do with that spider stuff. I might be able to get my hands on some top quality narcotics, but I don’t know the first thing about some weird spider venom. Besides, why would I kill my best customer? That’s just crazy.”

“Because you wanted to help your girlfriend vouchsafe her inheritance.”

“I didn’t even know she was loaded, all right? She never told me.”

“And with good reason,” Veronica said. “Now I know you love me for me, and not for my money.”

“I’ve always loved you for you, babe.”

“Listen, what about Chase Kingsley?” asked Odelia, who hated to admit she was starting to believe these two were innocent after all.

Veronica hesitated.“If I tell you what happened, do you promise to delete those pictures? I so don’t want them on the Internet. I’d die of shame.”

“I promise not to publish them. I’ll keep them, though. Just in case.”

“All right. Yes, I did lie about Detective Kingsley.”

“Don’t tell her that, babe. They might put me back in prison.”

“No, they won’t,” she said. “This time I’m getting you the best lawyer money can buy, whatever Mom says. And I’m going to tell her everything.”

“Why don’t you begin by telling me everything?” Odelia asked.

“You were right,” said Veronica. “I set up Detective Kingsley because Commissioner Necker made a deal. In exchange for Donny walking free, all charges dropped, I had to make up a story about Detective Kingsley harassing me. I filed those charges and that restraining order, just like he asked me to, and the next thing I knew, Donny was sprung from prison.”

“Did the Commissioner tell you what it was all about?”

She shook her head.“I never spoke with Commissioner Necker himself. Everything was arranged through Donny’s lawyer, who swore us to secrecy.”

“And a lousy lawyer he was.”

“Mom forbade me to get a decent one, so this one was all we had,” Veronica explained. “I’m pretty sure he was working for the Commissioner all along. They just needed someone to agree to do the dirty on Kingsley.”

“Will you retract your statement?”

“I will,” she said.

“Why the restraining order against Donny?” she asked.

She rolled her eyes.“That was Mother’s idea. She’d seen how easy it was to get one against Kingsley, so she told me to get one against Donny. She’d never liked him.”

“That woman hates me,” grunted Rubb, waggling his beard indignantly.

“What’s not to like?” asked Odelia. “Having a drug dealer for a son-in-law is probably every mother’s dream.”

“She’s right, you know,” said Veronica. “You have to stop with that drug business, babe. It’s going to get you killed one of these days.”

“Not to mention a bunch of other people,” said Odelia, shaking her head.

“I know,” he grumbled. “But it’s easy money. And everybody loves my product. You wouldn’t believe how popular I am amongst the celebrity set.”

“Did you move out here to be closer to Veronica?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, I did,” he said, pulling her close and planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I already had a few high-profile customers back in New York, so it wasn’t hard to make the move, as a lot of them had a weekend place out here. And when Veronica introduced me to her dad, I knew I had a winner.”

“I only did that to make sure Dad had the best quality drugs,” said Veronica with a shrug. “If he was going to take that stuff anyway, he might as well buy from Donny.” She tapped his nose. “But now you’re through.”

“If you say so,” he grumbled.

“Yes, I do. If Mother is ever going to accept you, you need to go legit.”

“You’re going to introduce me to your mom again?”

“I am. And this time she’s going to accept you. Just you wait and see.”

Rubb didn’t look too happy about that prospect, but Odelia had the impression that Veronica was the type of woman who liked to get her way, and she was pretty sure she was going to see this through. She didn’t like her cavalier attitude toward drugs, but at least she’d come clean about Chase.

“So we have a deal?” she asked. “You’re retracting your statement about Chase Kingsley?”

“Yes,” said Veronica. “And you promise never to publish those pictures?”

“Deal,” said Odelia, and they shook hands on it. In one fell swoop she’d rid Hampton Cove of a drug dealer, and Chase Kingsley of his pesky accuser. She’d also lost a perfectly good suspect in Johnny’s murder, but that couldn’t be helped. She believed Veronica. She hadn’t killed her father. So who had?

Chapter 25

After she’d dropped the couple off at Veronica’s place, Odelia drove to her uncle’s house to give Chase the good news. When she arrived, she found the back door open, as usual. Alec didn’t believe in locking his door, figuring nobody would be so stupid to break into the house of the chief of police.

She walked through the kitchen, which was squeaky clean. Her uncle never cooked, and neither did Chase, apparently. All she found were two cups in the sink and half a pot of cold coffee in the coffeemaker.

She went upstairs to look for Chase, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Chase? Are you up there?”

“Over here,” he bellowed, and she found him in the guest bedroom, his suitcase open on the bed, while he was seated next to it, staring at a picture frame of an older man in police uniform. He looked like Chase, but older.

“Your dad?” she guessed.

He looked up.“Yeah, this was taken when he got a commendation.” He dumped the picture frame on top of his luggage.

“I’ve got some great news for you,” she said, grabbing a chair.

“Oh? What’s that?”

She quickly told him the story of what had transpired just now, and his eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch.

“So Veronica George finally decided to come clean, huh? Well done.”

“I just thought you’d like to know she’s going to retract her statement, so you should be good to stay on here in Hampton Cove. I’m sure my uncle will take you back in a heartbeat.”

“Too late,” he said, surprising her.

“Too late? What do you mean? This is your chance, Chase.”

He gave her a weary look.“My reputation is shot to hell, Odelia. Even if Veronica retracts her statement, those rumors will never go away. Not until the whole story comes out, and even then they’ll persist. It’s like with those apologies the tabloids publish in small print on the bottom of page fifty after they’ve destroyed your reputation on the front page just days before.”

“This won’t be buried on page fifty, Chase. I’ll get you the front page.”

He shook his head.“Muds sticks, Odelia. No matter what you write.”

“Not when I reveal the truth and do the whole story, like you said.”

He raked his fingers through his hair.“What are you going to write?”

“I’ll print the retraction on the front page. Clear your name entirely.”

“Like I said, mud sticks. I can’t be a cop in this town, not with half the population believing I’m dirty. I’ll never have the authority I need again.”

“But—”

He held up his hand to silence her.“Look, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, I really do, but my mind is made up. This part of my life is over.”

She stared at him, defeated.“What are you going to do?”

“A buddy of mine set up his own business in Cleveland. Private security. He’s always asked me to join him so I finally told him I would. It’s not as much fun as being a cop, but it’s a paycheck.”

She stared at the picture frame of Chase’s dad. “Is that what your dad would have wanted? You running away like this?”

For a moment, the fire returned to his eyes.“I’m not running away. I just know when it’s time to call it quits. And right now it’s time to move on.”

She remembered something Brutus said.“Wasn’t being a cop your dream?”

He stared at her.“Yes, it was. My dad was a cop, so naturally I thought being a cop was the greatest thing ever. And it was. It still is.”

She realized she didn’t know Chase all that well. In the short time he’d been here, he’d made quite an impression on her, but he’d never discussed his personal life.

“Your dad… is he retired now?”

“Retired to that big old retirement home in the sky,” said Chase.

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Chase.”

“One week before his retirement he broke up a fight on the Lower East Side. Some dumb dispute about a hot dog stand. One guy suddenly took out a gun and fired off a warning shot. The shot went wide and hit my dad in the carotid artery and he bled to death. Dumbest death ever.”

“Oh, God, Chase. That’s horrible.”

“Mom didn’t take it too well, as you can imagine. She hasn’t been the same since. The fact that her son was kicked off the force didn’t help either.”

“Where is she now?”

“Living with her sister in the Bronx. I’d take her, but I’m not exactly in a position to do so right now.”

“But don’t you want to stay close? Ohio is a long way from your family.”

He shrugged.“It’s a job. A man’s got to eat.”

“Look, what if I expose the Commissioner? Would that help?”

He stared at her.“And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“I have my sources. I’ll figure something out.”

“You can’t go throwing out wild accusations, Odelia. They’ll come after you next. This guy… he’s ruthless. And it’s not just the Commissioner, you’re going up against the mayor as well. Both powerful men, both trying to protect their careers now that there are important elections coming up.”

“I’m a big girl, Chase. I can handle myself,” she promised him.

He gave her a grimace.“You better have ironclad proof, or else they’re going to sink your career like they sank mine. In fact I’d advise you to stay away from this whole business.” He rose from the bed, grasped her hand and shook it. “See you around, Odelia Poole. It was nice sparring with you.”

“I’m not giving up on this yet,” she said adamantly. “This town needs a good cop like you, Chase, and I’m going to make sure you stick around.”

He shook his head.“Keep dreaming, Poole.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” She wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing this for Chase, for his mother, and for Hampton Cove. Because this town deserved a great cop like him, and his mother deserved a break, and so did he. The fact that her heart suddenly hurt when she thought about him leaving town never to return had nothing to do with it, of course.

Chapter 26

When Odelia walked back to the car, she was looking disappointed. It was obvious her one-on-one with Chase hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped.

“What?” asked Brutus eagerly. “Is he staying?”

She shook her head as she slipped behind the wheel.“No. He says he’s moving to Cleveland, to start working private security with a buddy of his.”

“Cleveland? Where is Cleveland?” asked Harriet.

“Ohio,” I told her.

“Where’s Ohio?” asked Dooley.

“Far away from here,” said Odelia, clearly not too happy.

“But didn’t you tell him about Veronica?” cried Brutus, dismayed.

“I did,” she said, slumping behind the wheel. “He said it’s too little too late. His reputation is shot to hell, and people won’t trust him as a cop.”

“Like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube,” I said.

“Exactly,” said Odelia with a wan smile. “Thanks for that imagery, Max.”

“It’s not so hard to put toothpaste back into the tube,” said Dooley.

“No? Let’s see you try it,” said Odelia.

“You just… do it,” said Dooley, sounding like a commercial for Nike.

“Why don’t you just write a big, beautiful story on the front page and convince everybody what a magnificent person Chase really is?” asked Harriet, gazing at Brutus as if he was the most magnificent cat she knew.

“Unless I print the whole story, with irrefutable proof, that won’t make much of a difference,” said Odelia. “No, Chase is right.”

“But… that means you’re leaving?” Harriet asked Brutus, eyes wide.

Brutus, for the first time since I’d met him, looked crestfallen. “Oh, tootsie roll,” he croaked.

“Oh, honey pie,” she whispered, and they both broke into tears. It was a little pathetic, but also heartbreaking.

“Look, I promised Chase I’d break the story of the Commissioner’s dirty little secret,” said Odelia, turning to me, “but I need your help. I need to have positive proof of this affair. Without that, we’re sunk. It’s Chase’s word against the Commissioner’s, and we all know who the public will believe.”

I thought about this for a moment, then I nodded.“I think I know just the cat to talk to.”

“Well, you go do that, and I’ll…” She waved her hands helplessly. “I need to rethink this entire murder thing. If Veronica didn’t do it, and neither did Jasper… Well, then I really don’t know who did,” she finished.

“Can you drop us off at the mall?” I asked, and even though she eyed me curiously, she didn’t ask why. She drove us over and let us out of the car.

“Do you need me to pick you up later on?” she asked, gesturing at the tracker and panic button combo that was still fastened to my collar.

“Yes, that would be great,” I said. We’d been traipsing around so much I was starting to feel the strain.

“So where are we going?” asked Dooley when Odelia had left.

I motioned to a small collection of dumpsters across the parking lot from the strip mall.“Where do you think?”

He stared at the dumpsters.“Are you hungry? If you are, you should have asked Odelia to drop us off at Johnny’s place. I’m sure Princess and George wouldn’t mind sharing their food with us again. They’ve got plenty.”

“We’re not here to eat, Dooley,” I said. “We’re here to talk to a certain individual who’s usually very well-informed and might be able to help us.”

He frowned.“You mean that bearded hipster drug dealer?”

“Not him,” I said as I set paw for the dumpsters. Brutus and Harriet were lagging behind, still consoling each other and coming to terms with their imminent breakup. It broke my heart to see them, and I had to admit I just might have misjudged Brutus. To look as brokenhearted as he did, it meant he really cared about Harriet, which meant that he actually had a warm heart beating beneath that rugged exterior of his and not just a solid block of ice.

We arrived at the dumpsters. It was here that the shops comprising the mall dumped their trash, and it also served as a place where all manner of vermin gathered. Not just critters favored this place, though, but also one of Hampton Cove’s most feral feline inhabitants. She lived out in the woods, near the old hunting lodge that was now the Writer’s Lodge, where bestselling and not-so-bestselling writers came to write in all peace and quiet.

A murder had taken place there last year, and Clarice, the cat I was hoping to meet, had helped us solve it. She belonged to no one and got her food all over the place, so she was the right cat to ask if she knew how to catch Commissioner Necker and Mayor Putin’s wife in the act. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing I could think of. We were all out of options, and if we were going to keep Chase around, we had to go for broke.

“Clarice,” I called out. “Are you here? It’s Max.”

“Clarice?” asked Brutus. “Who’s Clarice?”

“Oh, Clarice!” Dooley cried happily, then his face dropped. “You’re not thinking about making another deal with Clarice, are you?” His paw involuntarily reached to his nose and he winced.

The last time we’d talked to the feral cat, she’d made us vow a blood oath, which had involved cutting ourselves and mixing our blood. Only Dooley hadn’t been able to cut himself, so Clarice had done the honors and sliced her claws across his nose. I’d been forced to listen to his laments for days.

“What do you want now?” suddenly asked a hollow voice. It seemed to come from all around us, echoing between the dozens of metal dumpsters.

“A friend of ours is in in big trouble!”

“So you’ve come to ask me for a favor again?” the voice echoed.

“That’s right. We need your help, Clarice.”

“Yes, Clarice,” Harriet chimed in. “We really need your help.”

“Who’s that?” the voice bellowed.

“My name is Harriet. I’m Marge Poole’s Persian? My friend Brutus’s human is in trouble.”

“Helping humans again, are we?” Clarice growled, not sounding convinced. “When are you finally going to realize you’re cats? Cats help themselves! Not humans!”

“Well, we happen to like our humans,” said Dooley. “So we like to help them if we can. And in exchange they give us food and shelter and love and cuddles and—”

“Shut up, you make me sick!” Clarice bellowed.

Suddenly there was a loud clanking sound behind us, and the wild cat appeared at the rim of a dumpster, then gracefully jumped to the floor beneath. She had a fishbone stuck to her brow, and Dooley winced. He didn’t like Clarice, and he didn’t like fish, which was a little strange for a cat.

Clarice was a mangy cat, scrawny and more than a little scary. Her eyes seemed to glow red in the obscurity between the dumpsters, and her claws clicked on the concrete ground. When she spoke, it sounded like a hiss, and she gave the impression she was about to pounce and rip us to shreds.

“What do you want?” she hissed. She wasn’t the most pleasant cat to deal with, but because of her peripatetic ways she was unusually well-informed.

I quickly explained the predicament we found ourselves in, and she eyed me stoically all the while. If she knew something, she wasn’t letting on.

“I might be able to help you,” she finally said, “but what is in it for me?”

“We know a place that serves the most delicious food imaginable,” I said. “Actual p?t? in an all-you-can-eat buffet. They’ll even adopt you if you like.”

“Where is this place?” she asked, plucking the fishbone from her brow and throwing it down.

“John Paul George’s house,” I said. “Xanadu.”

“He’s not there right now,” said Dooley helpfully, “because he’s dead, but his boyfriend is. Oh, wait, no. He’s in jail for murder. But the food is there. And so are a dozen cats. But they won’t bother you,” he hurriedly added.

“P?t?, huh?” asked Clarice, her eyes glittering. “I’ve heard rumors about Xanadu, but I always thought it was just a myth. A folk tale.”

“It’s not a myth,” I told her. “We were there, and we ate that p?t?.”

“And it was to die for,” said Dooley.

Harriet slowly turned to me.“You ate p?t? and you didn’t tell me?”

“We were there on official cat choir business,” I said. “And since you’re not in the cat choir…”

“Cat choir?” asked Brutus. “That sounds like something for me.”

“Oh, God,” groaned Dooley.

“Can you even sing?” I asked. “The first rule of cat choir is—”

“You do not talk about cat choir,” Dooley said, eyeing me reproachfully.

“Is that you have to be able to sing,” I said, ignoring Dooley’s outburst.

“I sing like a nightingale,” Brutus grunted. “Listen to this.” And he suddenly broke out into a caterwauling the likes of which I’d never heard before—it was truly terrible. Like a cat being castrated without sedation.

“Shut the hell up!” growled Clarice. “If you don’t want me to cut you.”

Offended, Brutus said,“If you think you can do better…”

“I don’tthink I can do better,” Clarice hissed. And at this, she burst into song, belting out an aria from some little-known opera. It sounded… nice.

“Hey, that was great!” cried Dooley. “You have to join the choir!”

“Over my dead body,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t be seen dead with a bunch of namby-pamby losers like you.”

“You could be our conductor,” I said. “We have a conductor now, but she’s… not very good.” In fact Shanille simply tried to copy her human, Father Reilly, who led the church choir, and did a pretty lousy job as well.

“Enough about the cat choir,” she said. “Do you want to know about this cheating commissioner business or not?”

“Yes, please,” said Harriet, clutching Brutus’s paw. “It’s a matter of life and death.” She turned to Brutus. “I can’t imagine life without you, sweets.”

“Aw, sugar pie,” said Brutus, touched.

“Enough with this nonsense!” cried Clarice. “I’ll take your offer of the Xanadu p?t?, but first we need to do the oath.”

“Oh, not the oath!” Dooley cried.

“Yes, the oath. I can’t tell you about my private affairs unless we all swear an oath to secrecy.” She held up her right paw and gave it a quick slit with her left claw. A drop of blood appeared, and suddenly there was a sigh behind me and a dull sound. When I looked, I saw Brutus had collapsed.

“Brutus!” cried Harriet. “Sweetie, baby!”

She managed to revive him while we watched on, and he stared up at us, looking woozy.“Blood,” he finally muttered. “Can’t stand the sight of it.”

“Oh, you bunch of sissies,” Clarice growled. “Look, no oath, no information.”

“I’ll do it for you, my turtle-dove,” said Harriet. “You just close your eyes.”

Brutus squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and Harriet made a small incision in his paw, then in her own. That only left Dooley and me. I winced when I made the cut, and Dooley… just stood there, lips trembling, eyes locked on Clarice, who was eyeing him grimly.

“Well?” she asked. “What’s it gonna be? I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I grunted, and walked over to him and scratched his nose.

“Ouch!” he cried. “What did you do that for?!”

“Because I know that you don’t want to be the one who prevented us from saving Chase!”

“You’re dead to me,” he said in a whiny voice.

“That’s fine with me. Just do it already,” I told Clarice.

She held her paw against mine, then Harriet joined in and then Brutus, his eyes still shut tight, and then we all pressed our bloody paws against Dooley’s injured nose, who whimpered in pain, even though I can’t imagine it could have hurt all that much.

“Wimp,” Clarice muttered.

“It hurts!”

“Right,” said Clarice, satisfied as we all started licking our paws, and Dooley his nose. “Commissioner Necker and Malka Putin have been using the Writer’s Lodge for months now. Since there are no bookings—because of that murdered writer—they’ve got the place all to themselves, and have been coming out here every weekend. I’ve seen them at it,” she said with a grimace. “And let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart. I consider myself a pretty tough baby and the way they go on is pretty damn disgusting.”

“Sex?” I asked.

“Human sex,” she clarified.

“Yuck,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

“So are they there right now?” I asked.

She smiled, flashing her razor-sharp teeth.“Oh, yes, they are.”

Chapter 27

It is one of those annoying things when a detective comes at the end of her long list of suspects and discovers there aren’t any left. Odelia wasn’t a detective, per se, but she certainly wanted to catch a killer, and when she stared down at her notebook, she found she’d scratched out all the names. Veronica had been her final and most promising suspect, and now she’d lost her as well. Dang, she thought, as she threw her notebook on the dash.

So now what? Start from scratch?

She stared out through the windshield, gathering her thoughts. After dropping off her litter of cats, she’d idly driven around, trying to gather her thoughts, and now found she’d returned to Bryony Pistol’s place. Which was just as well, for she wanted another word with Johnny’s widow anyway. Last time she’d practically been shown the door, and she wanted to talk to her a little more about Johnny, and whether the man had any other enemies.

And as she thought some more about this, she found that there were many more suspects to be interviewed: perhaps Johnny’s housekeeper had seen something, or his gardener, or his pool boy. And then there were his manager, fellow musicians, perhaps a lawyer… Though she was pretty sure Uncle Alec had covered all his bases and had questioned all those people.

She got out of the car, walked up to the gate and pressed the bell. She just hoped that Bryony wouldn’t hold her attitude toward her daughter against her. Maybe she should start by apologizing for her earlier behavior. But the gate immediately swung open, which she took as a good sign, and she took a firmer grip on her clutch and crossed the gravel driveway to the house.

Yellow and gold gravel crunched under her feet, reminding her of the brown sugar she liked to put on her pancakes. There was a small pink fountain in the driveway, a replica of the one in front of Johnny’s house, only instead of Johnny spewing out the water, a cherubic angel did the honors.

The moment she arrived at the door, it swung open, revealing Bryony.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Pistol. I wanted to apologize about before, and ask you a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

“Apology accepted,” said the woman curtly. As she led her inside, she said, “You just missed Veronica and… that man. She told me about your incident. And how she decided to come clean about Detective Kingsley.”

“Yes, that’s right. She told me Detective Kingsley is innocent after all.”

They’d arrived in the same parlor where they’d held their earlier interview, and Bryony raised her eyes skyward. “How any child of mine could turn out to be such a liar… and all because of that horrible man.”

Bryony took a seat on the red velvet sofa while Odelia took the chair.“He promised me he’s out of the drug business. And I happen to believe him.”

“Men lie, Miss Poole, and men who use drugs even more. I’ve seen it with my husband. When we were still together he promised me time and time again he’d quit using, and the moment my back was turned he was at it again. It’s a very hard habit to kick, and the last thing I wanted was for my daughter to get involved in the same nasty business that ruined her father.”

“At least she’s not a user herself,” said Odelia.

“No, at least there’s that. Thank heaven for small favors. With a father who’s a heavy user and a boyfriend who’s a dealer that’s a small miracle.”

“Were you never tempted yourself?”

“Never,” said Bryony adamantly. “I witnessed firsthand what drugs did to Johnny. He could have been one of the true greats, and instead he chose to waste his entire life and throw away his unique gift. Such a terrible shame.”

“Yes, it is a terrible thing.” She looked around the room. It was decorated in a floral motif, both wallpaper and upholstering pink roses on an off-white background. Even the parquet floor was inlaid with a rose motif. Very pretty.

“So what did you want to know?” asked Bryony.

“Well, Veronica told me her father set up a trust fund in her name. So she would never have to worry about money ever again?”

“That’s right,” she said with a smile. “I told him to, so he did.”

“Did he make the same arrangement for you? If I’m being too blunt, just tell me,” she quickly added when the woman’s face clouded.

“No, that’s all right. It’s not a great secret. Johnny never saw any reason to set up a trust fund for me, as we never divorced. And as his wife I was entitled to half his fortune in case something ever happened to him.”

“And in case he remarried?”

“Well, he said he would take good care of me,” the woman said with a tight smile. “Johnny knew he owed me his career, and he wasn’t going to leave me penniless. So I’m sure he was going to make some arrangement.”

Odelia’s eyes darted to a side table carrying at least a dozen framed pictures. Most of them were of Veronica, with one picturing her donning a graduation cap and gown, smiling into the camera. Then she suddenly saw another picture and she blinked, startled. It showed Bryony and looked recent. Very recent. Bryony, who’d followed Odelia’s gaze, now rose. “Can I get you something, Miss Poole? Tea, perhaps, or coffee? I just made some.”

“Yes, please,” she said, nodding distractedly.

She now saw she’d been wrong… about everything.

“Don’t go anywhere,” said Bryony with a smile, and left the parlor.

She quickly got up and checked the picture more closely. There was no mistaking the background. It was the iconic Sydney opera house, a popular and famous landmark. Suddenly, Bryony’s voice sounded behind her. “That was taken last month. I was there to take care of some business for Johnny.”

She set a tray of cups and saucers down on the coffee table.

“Last month?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little out of her depth.

Bryony gave a tight smile.“Johnny wanted to relaunch his career. He’d had an offer to join the jury on the Australian version ofThe X Factor. He figured it would give him some much-needed exposure so I went to talk to the producers about his involvement.” She absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from her brow. “In spite of the divorce Johnny insisted I represent him. I don’t know why, as he was casting me aside for Jasper, but then Jasper was always more like a glorified butler than a genuine manager.”

Odelia swallowed.“You… didn’t like Jasper?”

Bryony swept up her hand.“You can drop the charade now, Miss Poole. We both know perfectly well why you’re here. I don’t know how, but you discovered my little secret, didn’t you? You discovered I killed Johnny.”

“No, I…” But then she noticed the small revolver in Bryony’s hand.

“How did you find out? Was it something I said?” Her eyes quickly cut to the picture. “I should never have left that out in the open.”

“You got the venom when you were over there,” she said.

“Yes. It wasn’t hard. They gave me a tour of one of those reptile parks, and showed me where they kept the venom they collect to create anti-venom. It wasn’t difficult for me to grab some and bring it back to the States.”

“You do know that spider venom isn’t lethal when ingested?”

Bryony stared at her.“What are you talking about? It killed Johnny, didn’t it?”

“Only because he had a preexisting heart condition. If he’d been healthy he would have survived.”

Bryony gave an annoyed shrug.“Who cares? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“But why?” she asked. “Why would you want to kill your husband?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” said Bryony. “I’m sure you figured it all out before you set foot in here. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring your uncle along this time, to place me under arrest. Or perhaps you weren’t entirely sure and decided to confront me first?” She waved the gun. “Bad idea, Miss Poole. Very bad idea.”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” she asked, frozen to the spot.

“Move over to the window,” Bryony said.

Odelia did as she was told, and saw that a blue tarp was placed between the couch and the window. Oh, God. Bryonywas going to kill her.

“The painters are coming in tomorrow,” Bryony explained. “But they’ll just have to find themselves another piece of plastic, won’t they?”

“But why?” she asked, tears springing to her eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re here to arrest me. And I can’t have that.”

“I can’t arrest you. I’m not a cop.”

“You sure act like one. And your uncle seems to consider you his deputy. Did you tell him about me?”

She shook her head, living through this entire scene like a dream. She’d never been threatened before, and definitely not been on the verge of being shot before, and her preservation instincts were decidedly slow to respond to this crisis. “I honestly didn’t know you killed Johnny,” she said now.

Bryony shrugged.“Doesn’t matter. You know now, so I can’t let you live.”

“But why did you kill him?”

“And here I thought you were so smart. The man was going to divorce me. After all those years he was going to leave me and marry that fool Jasper. After I spent a fortune and my entire life turning him into a star he was going to give me a measly annuity. Not even a lump sum but a paltry allowance.”

“You could have gotten a lawyer and gotten a better deal.”

“I couldn’t. We signed a prenup.”

“In Johnny’s favor? I thought he was the pauper and you the rich girl?”

Bryony shifted the gun to her other hand.“Nicely put. And you’re right. I was rich and Johnny was poor, which is exactly why my father demanded we sign a prenup. Unfortunately I neglected to include a clause that would grant me a portion of moneys earned during our marriage, only that we’d both get back what we’d put in.”

“Which for you was your entire fortune, right?”

“Wrong. I never invested anything. My father did, on my request. Upon divorce, I get back exactly what I put in: nothing. And Johnny gets to keep what he made throughout our marriage. Very unfair, but there you have it.”

“So he was going to leave you with an annuity? That seems harsh.”

“It was. Since his career was in decline—or in a state of rigor mortis, to be exact—and he spent every cent he owned on his very expensive hobbies, his fortune had dwindled. He’d effectively blown most of my money and his.”

“So these songs he’d recorded—”

“Were for his comeback record. Which he hoped would put him back on top. There was still a nice chunk of change left, but he was keeping it.”

“And so you decided you needed to kill him now or lose out forever.”

She smiled.“You are a great reporter, Miss Poole. Yes, Johnny called me to the house a couple of weeks ago, and said he wanted to marry Jasper. Make things official between them. He wanted a divorce. He said he’d always take care of me, and offered me the annuity scheme.” She shook her head. “I was livid. After spending the best years of my life and my family’s fortune on this man, he was going to fob me off with a few alms? No way. So I decided to get rid of him before the divorce, and salvage what I could from this mess.”

“And get rid of Jasper in the process.”

“Of course. I never liked that horrid little man. Jail is too good for him.”

“So how did you do it?” She needed to buy time. Time to find a solution.

“Well, I thought long and hard about a way to kill the bastard. It’s not easy to kill a person and get away with it if you’ve never done it before.” She sounded bemused now, as if the entire murder proposition had been nothing but an intriguing puzzle to her. “I thought about an overdose,which would have looked plausible, but Johnny was always very careful about his dope. The idea came to me when I was in Australia. Some news segment about a boy who’d been bitten by the world’s deadliest spider. As luck would have it, they invited me to visit the reptile center and that’s where I got the venom.”

“But how did you get Jasper’s fingerprint on the vial?”

She waved a hand.“I’d seen that on a crime show. I used a piece of tape to lift Jasper’s prints from a wine glass when I was over at Johnny’s house, and attach them to the vial. It was actually a lot easier than I thought.”

“Clever,” said Odelia.

“Yes, the plan was very straightforward and easy,” said Bryony, “which told me it was the right thing to do. Now all I need to do is get rid of you.”

“My uncle will come looking. He’ll know what you did.”

“I don’t think so, hon. I’ll just get rid of your car and the body and your uncle will simply think you skedaddled.”

“I would never do that.”

“Well, you’re going to.” She raised the gun. “Please lie down, Miss Poole. I don’t want any blood on my curtains. I like my murders nice and tidy.”

Chapter 28

Bryony took careful aim, and it was obvious she knew how to handle a gun. Odelia had done as instructed and was now lying on the tarp, awaiting the end. She thought about rushing the woman and slapping that gun from her hand, but Bryony was no fool. She kept her distance. Besides, chances were that the moment she made a move the woman would shoot anyway.

“Don’t do this, Bryony,” she said. “You’re going to get caught. You may have gotten away with Johnny’s murder, but you won’t get away with this.”

“Oh, yes, I will,” said Bryony with a strangely stilted smile. “I’m getting the hang of this, you know. It’s true what they say about murder. Once you’ve made your first kill, the next ones are so much easier.”

“The next ones? You’re not thinking about killing again, are you?”

“Of course. Do you really think I want to see my daughter marry a drug dealer? When I kill Mr. Rubb I intend to inflict as much pain as possible. Serves him right for dealing my husband drugs and seducing my only daughter. Now close your eyes and say a prayer. This is the end of the line.”

“Just what I was going to tell you,” a voice suddenly sounded behind Bryony. “Drop it!” the voice added sharply, “Or I drop you!”

When Odelia opened her eyes, she saw that Chase was standing in the doorway, pointing a very large gun at Bryony, who’d whirled around. The moment she caught sight of the large cop, she uttered a cry of dismay, and instantly dropped the gun. Not such a cold-blooded killer after all.

“Odelia, are you all right?” he asked, giving Bryony’s gun a kick.

“I’m fine,” she said, getting up. “I was just taking a nap while Bryony here told me the story of her life.”

“You’re under arrest, Mrs. Pistol,” Chase grunted, and quickly and efficiently outfitted Bryony with a pair of handcuffs.

“How did you get here?” asked Odelia, surprised and extremely relieved.

“After you left I thought about what you said. All that stuff about not giving up. So I decided you were probably right. I figured I might as well try to get Veronica to sign a written confession fingering the Commissioner. When I arrived I saw your car parked out front, and the gate wide open. And when I looked through the window, I saw Mrs. Pistol here brandishing her gun.” He gave Bryony a grim look. “Before you kill people you might want to close the curtains.”

“Beginner’s mistake,” muttered the woman, looking extremely annoyed.

“You got here just in time,” Odelia said. “Another minute and she would have put a hole in me.”

“I figured as much when I saw you lying on that piece of plastic.”

Just then, Odelia’s phone beeped and she took it out.

“What is it?” asked Chase.

She smiled.“Um… is it all right if we take a little detour before we drop Mrs. Pistol off at the police station?”

He looked puzzled.“Why? You want to go for pizza?”

“Just a small errand I have to run. But a very urgent one. Let’s go.”

He shook his head.“You’re speaking in riddles, Poole, as usual.”

“Probably the reporter in me. Now let’s get moving before it’s too late.”

She drove first, with Chase following right behind her, Bryony safely tucked in the backseat. She followed the flickering dot on the screen, and soon saw they were heading to the Writer’s Lodge. Huh? What was Max doing out there? She drove at a healthy clip, and soon the two cars were roaring up the hill, the wheels of the two pickup trucks tackling the rutted dirt road and spraying up a cloud of dust. The road meandered and narrowed until they reached the small parking space right below the ridge where the Writer’s Lodge was located.

She saw that two other cars were already parked there: a silver Mercedes and a burgundy BMW. She cut the engine and got out of the car, Chase joining her. He was staring at the Mercedes.“NYPD plates,” he grunted.

She smiled, starting to see what was going on here.“Surprise, surprise.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.“What are you up to, Poole?”

“Let’s wait and see,” she said, and set foot for the steps that led up from the small parking space to the lodge. She wondered where Max and the others could be. Probably in the shrubbery behind the lodge. So she made her way over there, and when she arrived, saw she hadn’t been mistaken: Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus met her behind the lodge, right next to the verandah where Hetta Fried, the Lodge’s owner, had installed the Jacuzzi.

She crouched down next to the cats, scratching Max behind the ears. She wasn’t going to talk feline now, with Chase looking on, but pricked up her ears when Max said, “Better take out your camera,” and pointed at the lodge.

She looked over, and saw a man and a woman enjoying the Jacuzzi.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chase whispered. “That’s Commissioner Necker. And Malka Putin. Talk about a d?j?-vu.”

And as they approached the verandah, she saw the couple were doing things no married man and woman should do, at least not to the ones they weren’t married to. With a grin, she took out her phone and started snapping pictures of the adulterous couple, adding a short video for good measure.

“I have a feeling Commissioner Necker will be a lot more amenable to finding a solution for your problems than before,” she whispered to Chase.

“Let’s go and say hi,” Chase said.

“Wait, don’t!” she hissed, but he was already walking up the two wooden steps to the verandah and pushing open the screen door.

When the startled couple looked up in dismay, he said,“Hi there, Commissioner. Remember me?”

“What the hell, Kingsley!” cried the Commissioner, descending beneath the bubbles. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Not this time,” Chase said, and when Odelia popped out from behind Chase’s broad back, she flashed the Commissioner and Mrs. Putin her best smile and showed them her smartphone.

“Chase and I were out hiking in the woods, when we just happened upon you two love birds. So I decided to snap some shots. And a little video.”

“Who are you?!” demanded the Commissioner, his face reddening.

“My name is Odelia Poole. I’m a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette and, as it happens, I’ve got an entire front page to fill in tomorrow’s edition.”

“Oh, Christ,” muttered the Commissioner.

“This is all your fault!” cried Mrs. Putin. “I told you we should have booked a hotel!”

“Nobody ever comes out here!” yelled the Commissioner.

“Apart from a cop and a reporter, you mean?”

“Look,” said Chase now, “I have absolutely no interest in exposing your little affair to the world, which is what I told you the last time, remember?”

“I remember,” said the Commissioner, glaring at Odelia’s smartphone.

“But you wouldn’t listen, would you? And then you kicked me out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” grumbled the portly cop. “What do you want?”

“I want you to clear my name,” said Chase.

The Commissioner looked surprised.“That’s all?”

“Of course it’s not all,” said Mrs. Putin, a round-faced woman with platinum hair. “They want money, can’t you see? How much do you want?”

“Shut up, Malka. Let me handle this.”

“Look, I’ve got a hundred bucks right here,” said the woman, reaching for her purse, which was right next to the bubble bath.

“Just let me handle this, all right?” cried the Commissioner.

“I don’t want any money,” said Chase now, shaking his head disgustedly. “I just want to clear my name. I want you to go on record and—”

“Done,” said the Commissioner. “Whatever you want, son. Anything. Just don’t print those pictures, will you? They would ruin my career.”

“What about me?” asked Mrs. Putin. “What about my reputation, huh? It’s always me, me, me. You and my husband are just the same.”

“Just shut up for a minute, will you? I’m handling this.”

“That’s what you said the first time,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Look, Chase, I’ll clear your record, all right? I’ll talk to this girl—what’s her name, ahm…”

“Veronica George,” Odelia supplied helpfully.

“That’s all right,” said Chase. “Odelia already made arrangements with Miss George, and Mr. Rubb.”

“She did?” asked the Commissioner, surprised. “You’re some reporter, Miss…”

“Poole. Odelia Poole.”

He frowned.“The name sounds familiar. Why does the name sound familiar?”

“Perhaps because Donovan Rubb called you to complain about being arrested?” she asked. “At which point you pressured the mayor into getting Chase fired. Again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, looking appropriately contrite. “Look, all that stuff wasn’t my idea in the first place, all right?”

“Oh, now you’re blaming me?” asked Mrs. Putin. “Nice. Real nice.”

“I’m blaming your husband, that’s who I’m blaming. Boyce set this up.”

“Look, I don’t care who set up whom,” said Chase now. “All I care about is that my name is cleared and that you put an end to those rumors.”

“Sure, sure, Chase. Whatever you want, son. I’ll get you your job back, I’ll even throw in a nice promotion and a nice big fat pay raise, all right?”

Odelia looked at Chase. Being reinstated as an NYPD detective was all Chase had ever wanted. But it would also mean leaving Hampton Cove, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She was surprised when she heard him say, “That’s all right, Commissioner. I’m fine out here in Hampton Cove.”

“Are you sure?” asked the Commissioner.

“He said he was sure, didn’t he? Now delete those pictures already.”

“Can you just shut up for one minute? I’m handling this.”

“You can’t even handle your way out of a paper bag,” she grumbled.

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Chase now. “I like it out here. A lot less hassle.”

“Suit yourself,” said the Commissioner. “If you want Hampton Cove, Hampton Cove is what you get. I’ll talk to the guy in charge here, um, what’s his name…”

“Chief Alec,” Odelia supplied.

“That’s right. I’ll tell him to take you back. Now about those pictures…”

“I think I’ll hang on to those for now,” Odelia said. “Just until I’m sure you’re keeping your end of the bargain.”

“Oh, I’ll keep my word,” said the Commissioner. “I’ll get you sorted out.”

“That sounds great, Vernon,” said Chase, and Odelia was surprised Chase was on a first-name basis with the Commissioner. He’d never told her.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right? I should never have made that damn deal.”

“Especially since you knew damn well I wasn’t going to talk,” said Chase.

“It wasn’t just me,” said the Commissioner. “When Boyce found out…”

“I understand,” said Chase. “It’s all about politics, right?”

“It is,” said the Commissioner with a shake of the head. “Back when your father and I were still walking the beat, me as a rookie and he as the seasoned vet, things were different. Once you get to my level, it’s all about politics, son.” He eyed Chase ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’m goingto set the record straight.”

Chase nodded once, and then promptly turned around and walked away.

“I’m just gonna, um…” Odelia said, and then quickly followed Chase.

“You’re not gonna let that guy off the hook so easy, are you?” cried Malka Putin. “He’ll talk, I told you. All cops talk. Jabbermouths, the lot of them.”

“Not Chase Kingsley,” grunted the Commissioner. “And now will you just shut up for once and listen to me?”

Odelia smiled to herself as she rounded the lodge. Those two made a great couple. They should have their own show. She quickly caught up with Chase.

“How did this happen?” Chase asked when she fell into step beside him.

“How did what happen?”

“How did we get out here just when the Commissioner and Malka Putin were holed up in there?” He eyed her suspiciously. “Are you with the NSA? CIA? FBI? Did you put a tracking device on Vernon’s car or something?”

She laughed as they reached the clearing and descended the few steps to the parking lot.“Yes, I used a tracker, but no, I’m not with any agency.”

“How did you plant a tracker on Vernon’s car?”

She wondered how much to tell him, then decided the less he knew the better. He’d never believe her, and would probably think she was nuts.

“I put a tracker on Max, as he has a habit to wander off and get lost. A tracker and a panic button, actually. So when he triggered the alarm I knew we better come out here and get him before he started to panic.”

He stared at her.“So you had no idea Vernon would be here?”

“Nope,” she said, trying her darndest to keep a straight face. “Complete coincidence. Pretty amazing, huh?”

He shook his head.“You’re something else, Odelia Poole, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes, they have, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, you are,” he said, leaning against the truck while he studied her intently. “So you’re saying your cat just so happened to be out here when Vernon and Malka Putin were going at it, and he just so happened to trigger the alarm, putting you in the perfect position to snap those shots?”

“Yep,” she said blithely. “That’s cats or you. They will amaze you.”

“They sure will.” He stared at her, and she noticed for the first time that his brown eyes were flecked with gold. He was pretty amazing himself. Then he shook his head and smiled, flashing those dimples at her. “You should have been a cop, Odelia. Are you sure you don’t want to join the force? I bet we’d make one hell of a team.”

“What would Dan do without me? I’m the only reporter he’s got.”

“He’ll find someone else.”

“Why don’t I stay a reporter and we can still be one hell of a team?”

He grinned.“Teaming up with the world’s nosiest reporter, huh?”

“Why not? This is Hampton Cove, Detective. We do things—”

“—a little differently out here. Yeah, I got the memo.”

He was leaning in now, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But then a sharp voice sounded from behind them.“How long do I have to sit here in this stinking truck?! I have rights! I demand to see my lawyer!”

Chase patted the truck and moved away.“Duty calls, Poole.”

“If I’m not mistaken it’s the black widow calling.”

He cocked his index finger at her and lithely rounded the truck and slid behind the wheel.“This time you follow me, Poole. No more surprises.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, tipping an imaginary cap.

She climbed into her own pickup and let the four cats in behind her. They jumped up onto the backseat and she slammed the door shut, then put the car in gear and drove off in Chase’s wake.

“You guys did great,” she told the fearsome feline foursome.

“Is Chase staying?” asked Harriet eagerly.

“He is.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Brutus.

“Thank Max,” said Odelia. “He’s the one who got us out here.”

“Thank you, Max,” said Harriet.

“Yeah, thanks, Maxie, baby,” grunted Brutus, then held up his paw. “Hit me, bro.”

“Oh, God,” muttered Max, rolling his eyes, but then he did as instructed and gave Brutus a high five.

Odelia, watching the cats through the rearview mirror, noticed that Dooley was the only one who wasn’t smiling. “What’s wrong, Dooley? Cat got your tongue?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Max scratched my nose. It hurts.”

“All for a good cause, Dooley,” said Max.

“Yes, you’ll get over it, Dooley,” said Harriet.

“It’s called taking one for the team, Dooley, baby,” said Brutus.

“I’m not a baby!”

“Oh, yes, you are, you big baby,” Harriet cooed, and gave Dooley a peck on the whiskers. It perked him up considerably and he touched the spot reverently.

“We make a great team, you guys,” said Brutus. “A great team with a great leader.” He thumped his chest. “Yours truly. Bruce is back!”

“Oh, God,” muttered both Dooley and Max.

Odelia smiled. The four cats had accomplished the seemingly impossible: expose the Commissioner’s affair and exonerate Chase. And as she turned on the radio, a song of John Paul George came on.

“I’m Your Bi-ba-boy,” the singer crooned. “Your bi-ba-bad bad boy.”

Soon, they were all singing along, four cats and one human giving John Paul George a run for his money. Pop music had never sounded so bi-ba-bad.

3. PURRFECT REVENGE

Prologue

Clarice casually licked her paws. She’d snapped up a few morsels and was taking a breather on the windowsill. Overhead, a full moon shone, and inside the house all was quiet. Just the way she liked it. Word in town had it there were rodents to be found at the beach house, and word hadn’t lied. She’d snapped up a few critters anddecided this place was a keeper. Usually she liked to hang out in the hills west of Hampton Cove, but since she owed allegiance to no one, being a free spirit and all, she went where she pleased.

Clarice was a feral cat, her hide a mottled reddish brown riddled with bald spots. Once, she’d belonged to someone. Some tourists passing through who’d gotten her for their kid. When she’d gotten sick in the back of their Toyota Camry they’d decided she was more trouble than she was worth, and had tied her to a tree and left her. Good thing some kind soul had come along and freed her, or she would still be fettered to that damn tree, chewing bark.

The beach house was a property that had recently gone through a major renovation. They’d taken a worn-out beachfront property, completely gutted it and turned it into a remarkable success story. Currently it was occupied by a sprawling family of exceedingly attractive females who’d come straight down here from Hollywood to film some scenes for a popular reality show. The three sisters lived in the main house while a small film crew had taken up lodgings in the guest house. The house was guarded twenty-four seven, but since no one ever stopped to frisk a cat, Clarice had easily slipped in and out.

Luckily for her the sisters didn’t own a cat. Unfortunately what they did own was a nasty little yapper. A French Bulldog named Kane, who’d practically given her a heart attack when she’d entered the kitchen looking for some tasty little snack. The pooch wouldn’t stop yapping. Sheesh. You’d think he had to pay for the food out of his own pocket. Good thing she knew how to handle a bully. She’d given him her best hiss and claw routine and he’d quickly run off with his tail between his legs, crying for his mommy.

She now sat licking her claws, savoring those final pieces of rat guts, when she noticed that something was going on inside the bedroom. She stared through the window and saw that someone had decided to play dress-up. They were donning a black gown that extended all the way to the feet and even covered the face, leaving only a tiny slit for the eyes.

The masked person was standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at the sleeping forms of one of the sisters and her husband. Way creepy.

She watched intently as the intruder brought out a rag and a small bottle and sloshed some liquid on the rag, then walked around the bed and pressed the rag against the face of the man, then reached over and repeated the procedure on the woman. This was no game. He or she was sedating them.

And then it got really freaky. Whoever was beneath that black robe suddenly reached inside the folds and brought out a shiny meat cleaver.

Clarice’s eyes went wide with horror and shock when the robed intruder heaved the cleaver high and then let it drop down with a sickening thud on the woman’s neck. Ouch! She cut her eyes to the French Bulldog lying at the foot of the bed. The stupid mongrel was stoically staring at the scene as if everything was hunky-dory. How weird was that? And as she watched, she felt a little sick to the stomach. She knew all humans were nuts and some were a little twisted, like the guy who’d tied her to that tree back in the day. But this was beyond sick. This was some evilGame of Thrones stuff right there. After a while, she had to look away, her stomach lurching. And since she was Hampton Cove’s resident Feral Feline, that was saying something.

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When Damien woke up it was as much from the rays of sun caressing his tan face as from the strong sense of nausea that assaulted him. It reminded him of that time he’d had plastic surgery, creating a cleft in his chin he’d hoped would add to his general look of cool dudiness. He’d woken up feeling just as nauseous from the anesthesia as he was feeling now. And then there was that smell. A pungent odor filling his nostrils and making him gag.

He groaned and rubbed his face. Did he have too much to drink last night? Nope. He and Shana had sat on the porch while her sisters cavorted in the pool. He hadn’t felt like jumping in and neither had Shana. They’d had a huge fight, and neither had felt like having a romp in the pool or the Jacuzzi.

He cast a quick glance at his wife and saw she was fast asleep, judging from the bump under the sheets. Oh, Christ, he just hoped she wouldn’t start screaming again. He hated when she did that. There was no real argument possible when she screamed her head off. The sense of annoyance suddenly returned when he thought about the predicament she’d placed them both in.

With a sigh, he swung his feet to the hardwood floor, fisting his toes.

Wow. He had to hold onto his head when a sense of vertigo assaulted him. It was as if the entire room was spinning out of control. He had no idea what was going on, but judging from that horrible taste in his mouth and that terrible smell, things definitely were not A-okay.

He stalked off to the en-suite bathroom and stuck his head under the tap, allowing the water to run over his close-cropped hair and into the marble sink. The cold water did him a world of good, and he almost felt human again. He toweled off his head and checked his face in the mirror. His skin was blotchy, eyes bloodshot. Nothing some makeup couldn’t fix. Good thing the camera crew wasn’t filming. He so didn’t want to go on TV looking like this. People would think he’d had too much nose candy last night. Which he hadn’t. With a marriage on the rocks he had no appetite for the stuff. If he got divorced, all of this would go away. Nomore Mr. Big Shot Fancy Pants.

He walked back into the room and was surprised Shana wasn’t up yet. All his stomping around and putting his head under the tap should have roused her by now. He took a deep breath and decided to get this over with. The mornings after a big fight were always the worst. He didn’t know what to say and neither did she. Better to address the elephant in the room right away.

He sat down on the bed and gently shook her shoulder.“Shana, we need to talk,” he said. When she didn’t stir, he gave her a slight nudge. “Shana? Come on, honey. Things can’t go on like this. I need some answers. Stat.”

With a frown he noticed a spot of crimson on her pillow and he started. What the hell… He slowly slid down the sheet to take a closer look. And as he did, his eyes went wide and all the blood drained from his face. He would have screamed but no sound came. Later he didn’t even remember staggering from the bed, falling to the floor and scrambling back, crab-style, to the door.

Like bile, a scream finally rose from his throat, coinciding with a scream that sounded from inside the house. He was up and racing down the corridor, and as he came hurtling into the dining room he saw Shayonne screaming her head off. When he turned to see what had set her off, he joined her in a long, protracted wail. Right there, in the middle of the table, was Shana’s head, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping, her mouth open and biting down on a Jonagold, like a frickin’ pig roast. A note was taped to her forehead, typed in Arabic script. And then he fainted and went down like a ton of bricks.

Chapter 1

Dooley, Harriet and I were seated next to the bed, staring up at our human, who was still fast asleep, even snoring a little. When Odelia Poole had taken me in, I’d vowed a sacred oath never to let her be late for work. And even though keeping my promise was a lot harder than I’d anticipated, on account of the fact that Odelia slept like the dead, I wasn’t giving up.

I’d snuggled up to her, digging my claws into her arm while purring in her hair. I’d mewled, meowed and mewed up a storm. I’d even scratched the closet door, pounding it in a steady rhythm, and all I had to show for my efforts was Odelia muttering something unintelligible and turning over.

“She looks cute,” Dooley said.

“Is she drooling?” Harriet asked.

“She always drools when she sleeps,” I said.

“I think it’s cute. She’s almost like us,” said Dooley.

“Not me,” said Harriet. “I don’t drool in my sleep.”

“You snore, though,” said Dooley. “It’s so cute.”

“Snoring isn’t cute, and I don’t snore.”

“You do, too. Soft, little snuffles. Like a cute, little hamster.”

“I’m not a hamster!”

“I didn’t say you were a hamster. I said you sound like one. A cute one.”

We went back to staring at Odelia. Her blond hair was a mess, her pixie face full of sleep marks, and her sheets were twisted and tangled as if she’d fought off Darth Vader in her sleep. And there was definitely drool. A lot of drool. As if she’d tried to scare off the Dark Lord by spitting at his helmet.

“All right,” I said. “It’s almost nine o’clock. She’s going to be late.”

The three of us were seated on the fuzzy pink bedside rug and could have sat there indefinitely, as the rug’s softness felt great beneath my tush. But we had a responsibility. Being a cat isn’t just about catching critters and looking cool doing it. It’s about taking care of our humans while they’re taking care of us. At least that’s the way I see it. I may be an exception to the rule.

My name is Max, by the way, and I’m a blorange tabby. Yes, you read that right. I’m blorange. It’s a color. It really is. A kind of strawberry blond.

“I think this calls for a serenade,” Harriet said, licking her snowy white fur. She’s a Persian, and pretty much the prettiest cat for miles around. She belongs to Odelia’s mother, who lives next door, but she’s in here all the time.

“A serenade?” asked Dooley. “What do you mean, a serenade?”

Dooley is a beige ragamuffin. You know, the kind that looks like a big, furry rabbit. Only he looks like a small, furry rabbit. A beige-and-white furry rabbit. Dooley is my best friend and neighbor. He comes with Odelia’s grandma, who also lives next door. Yep. We’re one big, happy family.

“I mean, a genuine serenade, like Romeo sang to Juliet?”

“Who’s Romeo?” Dooley asked suspiciously. Dooley is secretly—or not-so-secretly—in love with Harriet, and jealous of every cat sniffing around.

Harriet rolled her eyes.“Romeo is a fictional character in a Shakespeare play. Don’t you know anything, Dooley?”

Dooley raised his chin.“I know plenty. I know that Shakespeare is some dude who’s in love, that’s what I know. In love with Gwyneth Paltrow.”

“That’s not the real Shakespeare,” Harriet huffed. “That’s just a movie.”

“Well, I don’t see the point. There was no singing in the movie at all.”

“I think Harriet is right,” I said, deciding this was not the time for bickering. “We need to serenade Odelia. She loves our singing so much she’ll wake up the moment she hears our sweet voices. Just like a radio clock.”

“What’s a radio clock?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, go away, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Why don’t we try the song we practiced last night? I’m sure she’ll love it. She’ll wake up gently and in a wonderful mood, completely refreshed. Like you said, just like a radio clock, but without those annoying radio jockeys jabbering about the weather.”

“You meanSorry?” I asked. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not? It was a big hit for Justin. I’m sure Odelia will love it.”

“Who’s Justin?”

“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet sighed.

I stared at her.“Do you really think that song is appropriate?”

She laughed.“Appropriate? When is a love songnot appropriate?”

“When is it?” asked Dooley, who had disliked the song as much as I had.

The thing is, Dooley and I had started cat choir a little while back, and had picked out a repertoire of cat-themed songs. You know, likeWhat’s New Pussycat. But when Harriet joined us she decided to glam up our repertoire, whatever that means. And then her boyfriend Brutus came along and took over conductor duties from Shanille, Father Reilly’s tabby.

Things went downhill from there. Harriet started to dictate song choice, relying heavily on her mood. Last night she and Brutus had had a fight, and the big lug had us practicing Justin Bieber’sSorry all night. Oh, the horror.

We’d still managed, though, much to the chagrin of the neighbors, who hadn’t liked our version as much as Harriet had. She’d been moved to tears when Brutus performed his solo and had responded by giving a rousing rendition of Celine Dion’sMy Heart Will Go On. It was all very disturbing.

“Oh, all right,” I finally said. “Let’s give it a try.”

“Let’s give what a try?” another voice now piped up behind us. I didn’t even have to turn to know who the voice belonged to. Brutus happens to be my personal nemesis. The big black cat belongs to Chase Kingsley, who’s the newest addition to the Hampton Cove police department, and has beenmaking my life miserable ever since he arrived in town. He likes to think that just because his human is a cop he can lay down the law. And to add insult to injury, he’s managed to snag Harriet’s heart and dash all of Dooley’s hopes.

“Oh, Brutus, sweetie,” Harriet cooed. “We were about to try out that wonderful new song you taught us last night.”

“That’s a great idea, honey bunch,” he said in that gruff voice of his.

He punched me on the shoulder, slapped Dooley on the back, and we both toppled over.“Let’s do this, fellas,” he growled, and cleared his throat.

Brutus is just about the worst choice when it comes to conducting a choir. The cat doesn’t have a single musical bone in his big-boned body. But that doesn’t stop him from belting his heart out every time he opens his mouth.

I shook my head. At least when Brutus decided to tackle Justin Bieber, Odelia would finally wake up. Judging from the dozens of angry neighbors last night, and the half dozen shoes thrown at our heads, it was hard to sleep through the racket. Then again, waking up Odelia was what we were here for. She’d told me yesterday the Hampton Cove Gazette is going through a rough patch. Circulation is down, so she needs to buckle down and find a killer story. And the first rule to finding a killer story is getting out of bed.

“One, two, three,” Brutus grunted. He’d taken position in front of us, his back to Odelia, like a genuine conductor. He was even swinging his paw just so, claws extended in case we hit a wrong note. Brutus believes in tough love.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” Brutus bellowed at the top of his lungs. He was eyeing Harriet intently, who was giggling more than she was singing.

“Cause I’m missing more than just your body,” she responded coyly.

“Oh, God,” Dooley muttered.

“Hey! No bungling the lyrics!” Brutus yelled. “Be a Belieber!”

“I’m a Bebrutuser,” Harriet tittered. “Is that all right, too?”

“It sure is, cutie pie,” growled Brutus.

“Oh, God,” I murmured.

“Hey!” Brutus repeated, and he slapped me on the head.

“Hey!” I yelled back. “No hitting the talent!”

“Who are you calling talent?” he said with a smirk.

“Oh, God,” a tired voice came from behind Brutus.

He whirled around, ready to admonish her. But when he saw he wasn’t talking to one of his choir flunkies, he snarled, “Look who’s up!” instead.

“What was that racket?” she groaned.

“Sorry,” said Harriet.

“That’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“No, that’s the name of the song.”

“You could have fooled me,” Odelia said, rubbing her eyes. “It sounded like a dozen cats being strangled, their heads chopped off with a lightsaber.”

I know I should have felt offended, but I was so glad she was finally up I decided to forgive her. Not everyone appreciates great music the way us cats do, and the most important thing was that we’d finally achieved our purpose.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I said. “Time to go to work.”

“Ugh,” was Odelia’s response. “Just promise never to sing to me again.”

“I promise,” I said, crossing my claws. Until next time.

Chapter 2

I was glad we’d accomplished our mission, even though the awakening hadn’t been as gentle and pleasant as I’d hoped. Odelia obviously wasn’t a fan of cat choir, or Justin Bieber, or either. We probably needed to practice more. Then again, with Brutus at the helm we might never get to be as good as the Wiener S?ngerknaben, my inspiration to start cat choir in the first place. Especially if Brutus kept hogging the spotlight to impress Harriet. It didn’t impress the other choir members. And it didn’t impress me.

We trudged down the stairs and padded into the kitchen, waiting for Odelia to join us, fresh from the shower and ready to start preparing breakfast. We didn’t have to wait long. She breezed in, wearing ultra-short Daisy Dukes, pockets showing on the bottom, a canary yellow T-shirt that announced she was ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ and pink Converse sneakers. She started up the coffeemaker and switched on the TV to watch the news.

“Ugh. The Kenspeckles are still in town,” she said as she dumped Corn Flakes into a bowl and poured milk on top of it and a few spoonfuls of sugar. “I keep hoping they’ll leave, but that obviously isn’t happening.”

“Who are the Kenspeckles?” asked Dooley.

We’d all hopped up on the kitchen counter barstools and were watching Odelia’s breakfast preparations intently. As soon as she’d finished preparing her own breakfast, we knew she’d start on ours.

“Just some family whose lives have been turned into a reality show,” she said. “The only reason I’m interested is because they decided to spend the summer in Hampton Cove and Dan keeps pushing me to do a piece on them. I’d rather poke my eye out with a fork than to come anywhere near them.”

“Why Hampton Cove?” I asked.

She shrugged.“Cause it’s the Hamptons. Cause it’s the place where all the cool people hang out. Cause after shooting a gazillion shows in LA they like to shake things up. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m not a fan.”

That much was obvious.“You don’t like the Kenspeckles?” asked Harriet.

“Nope. Too much talk. I like a show with a little action and a great story.”

“LikeGame of Thrones,” said Brutus, nodding.

“Yuck. A show where people’s heads get chopped off? No way.”

“I know what you like,” said Brutus. “You like to watch the game.”

She stared at him.“Game? What game?”

“Football, of course! At Casa Chase we watch it all the time.”

“At Casa Odelia we watchThe Voice,” I said.

Brutus made a face.“The Voice? Are you crazy?”

“It’s all about singing, Brutus. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I like singing,” he said with a quick glance at Harriet. “In fact, I love it. ButThe Voice? I thought you said you liked action and a great story, Odelia?”

“It doesn’t get any better than Blake and Adam,” she said, taking a seat and scooping up her flakes. “Add in some great songs and I’m hooked.”

Brutus shook his head. It was obvious he didn’t agree. “To each his own.”

The sliding glass door in the living room opened and Odelia’s mom walked in. “Good morning, family. And what a glorious morning it is.”

A slim woman with long blond hair just like her daughter, Marge Poole was wearing hers in a messy bun this morning. Her white polka-dot shirt was belted with a thin leather sash and she was donning skinny black slacks. She gazed at us through horn-rimmed glasses and gave us a smile and a wave.

“Hey, Mom,” said Odelia. “Aren’t you the sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh, just my work clothes,” said Mom with a deferential gesture.

Marge Poole was a librarian and ran the Hampton Cove library.

“I’d certainly borrow a book from you, Mrs. P,” said Dooley.

“Dooley!” Harriet hissed.

“What? I would,” said Dooley.

“She’s a human and you’re a feline. That’s just wrong.”

He frowned.“Why can’t I borrow a book from her? I know my ABCs.”

“Oh, you mean an actual book?”

“Of course. Why else would I go to the library?”

“I just thought…” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

“We were just talking about Chase,” said Brutus.

“No, we weren’t,” said Odelia. “We were talking about the Kenspeckles.”

“Chase is such a nice young man,” Marge said. “And such a blessing for this town. Your uncle Alec keeps telling me he’s so glad Chase decided to stay put instead of going back to New York to shoot with the big boys.”

“Run with the big boys,” Odelia corrected automatically.

“That’s what I said. He could have had any job he wanted with the NYPD but he chose to stay in Hampton Cove. Isn’t that just wonderful?”

“Super,” Odelia murmured. “They should give him the keys to the city.”

“I’m sure glad he stayed,” said Harriet, practicing her best starry-eyed look on Brutus. “I don’t know what I would do without my Brutus.”

“Me neither, honey bunch,” said Brutus.

Mom stood watching the syrupy scene with cocked head.“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Young love.”

“It’s the best,” muttered Odelia, not impressed.

“Shouldn’t you be home with Chase right now?” I asked Brutus.

“Yeah, he’ll wonder where you are,” said Dooley.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind me spending the night with my girlfriend.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” said Marge. “Chase strikes me as a man who appreciates love and affection. For a police officer he’s very much in touch with his feelings.” She gave Odelia a meaningful look.

Odelia threw up her hands.“Don’t hold anything back, Mom.”

“Well, I won’t. Detective Kingsley is a wonderful young man, extremely handsome and very sweet and you could do a lot worse than him. And he’s single, which I’m sure he won’t be for long so you better move fast.”

“I told you already. I’m not interested in Chase Kingsley.”

“Someone else might snap him up. Alec tells me Blanche Captor comes into the office every day to file littering charges. She’s in there at the crack of dawn, demanding Chase take her statement. And she just had that boob job.”

“I’m sure it takes more than a pair of boobs to turn Chase’s head, Mom.”

“I’m not so sure. Chase might be a great guy but he’s still a guy. And you know what that means.” She directed a pointed glance at Odelia’s more modest chest. “The women in our family have to rely on other assets, honey.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Mom,” Odelia groaned.

To be honest, I’ve never understood this obsession with boobs. I mean, I’m a guy and I don’t care one hoot about them. Then again, I’m not human, so maybe that’s why. Truth of the matter is that Odelia has dated a few lemons in the past, so she’s understandably cautious and I don’t blame her.

“I think Chase is dreamy,” said Harriet, contradicting her earlier statement that interspecies relationships are just plain wrong.

“And I think he’s a great cop, but that doesn’t mean he’s relationship material,” I said, deciding to put my two cents in. It seemed Odelia’s dating life was a free-for-all now, so why not share my opinion with the group?

Mom laughed.“Oh, Max. Since when did you become an expert?”

I shrugged.“Just looking out for my human. Someone has to.”

I like Marge, I really do, but I don’t like how she tries to foist this cop on Odelia. To be honest, my motives weren’t totally selfless. If Odelia hooked up with Chase, it wouldn’t be long before he moved in and so would Brutus. If there was a way to prevent this doomsday scenario, I was all for it.

Marge patted me on the head.“You’re doing a great job, Max.”

“Thanks,” I said dubiously. Compliments are a double-edged sword. You have to be careful or they blow up in your face. If it’s swords that blow up in your face. It might be plans. I don’t know. Hey, I’m a cat, not a dictionary.

“I think Odelia and Chase should hook up,” said Harriet. “Just like Brutus and I have found each other. That way we’ll all be family forever.”

“I think you should listen to you cats, honey,” said Mom. “They’re a sacred and ancient species known far and wide for their infinite wisdom.”

“I think Chase should return to wherever he came from,” said Dooley, giving Brutus a particularly dirty look.

Odelia held up her hand.“All right, Mom. I’ll listen to my wise cats.”

“Dooley is confused, that’s all. He is your grandmother’s cat, after all. Some of her traits are bound to rub off on him and dilute his innate wisdom.”

“I thought Gran wanted me to get together with Chase?”

“Gran wants to get together with Chase herself,” said Marge with a tight-lipped smile. “Which is hardly appropriate for her age.”

Odelia put her bowl in the sink.“You know what I think? This family is starting to resemble the Kenspeckles. If we’re not careful we’ll have our own reality show soon.”

“Ooh, I’d like that,” said Harriet. “I would love to be on TV.”

“Oh dear God, no,” said Marge. “Just imagine all those cameras filming everything we do. We wouldn’t have a life anymore—no privacy at all!”

“It’s all scripted,” Odelia said. “Nothing about that show is real, Mom.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Nobody behaves like that. It’s completely fake.”

“I think it’s all real,” said Harriet. “Especially the relationships. Nobody can fake all that love and affection. You can see it in their eyes.”

Dooley and I rolled our own eyes. Odelia was right. MaybeKeeping Up with the Pooles would be the next big thing. ThoughKeeping Up with Harriet and Brutus would be an even bigger hit. Nobody could fake that much ignorance.

Chapter 3

The doorbell rang and Odelia was surprised to find Chase on the doorstep. She wanted to tell him they were just talking about him but thought better of it. Nothing boosts a man’s ego as much as knowing a gaggle of women is talking behind his back, though she probably shouldn’t include Harriet in this particular gaggle, as she wasn’t an actual woman.

Chase Kingsley was tall, dark-haired and movie-star handsome and took his job very, very seriously. And whatever he was doing here probably had something to do with that job, because in all the time she’d known him he’d never once paid her a social visit unless she’d specifically invited him.

“What’s up?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little underdressed. Those Daisy Dukes had seemed like a great idea half an hour ago, but now that Chase’s eyes slowly traveled south and his eyebrows rose north, she was having second thoughts. Then again, there was nothing wrong with making a great impression, even if she wasn’t interested in dating the guy.

“Morning, Miss Poole.”

“Morning, Detective Kingsley. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“There’s been a murder.”

“What? Who?” she asked, her smile evaporating.

“Shana Kenspeckle. They just found her.”

Holy cow.“Give me a minute,” she said.

He followed her inside, and nodded a greeting at her mother but ignored the cats seated at the kitchen counter. Unlike Odelia, Mom and Gran, Chase wasn’t one of those rare humans who could communicate with felines. This special gift had traveled down from generation to generation because one of Odelia’s ancestors had purportedly been a witch. It was a gift that came in handy in her line of work. As a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette she needed to be on top of everything that happened in her small Long Island town. And since she couldn’t be everywhere all the time, Max and his friends acted as her eyes and ears, supplying her with a steady stream of news.

She drained her coffee cup and went in search of her smartphone.

“So what brings you down here, Chase?” asked Mom.

“Police business, I’m afraid, Mrs. Poole.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. When are you going to start calling me Marge?”

“There’s been a murder, Marge.”

Mom’s hands flew to her face. “Oh, no!”

“Yeah. One of the Kenspeckle sisters was found murdered.”

“But that’s horrible!”

“I’m just going over there to investigate.”

“And you’re taking Odelia along? That’s so nice of you, Chase.”

He grimaced.“Chief Alec engaged your daughter as an official consultant to the department, ma’am, I mean Marge. He’s made a point of including her in the day-to-day police business. And since he’s out of town this week he’s asked me to partner up with his niece for this particular investigation.”

Judging from his tone he wasn’t happy about Uncle Alec’s decision.

“Oh, but that’s wonderful,” said Mom, clasping her fingers together as if in prayer. “The two of you together, cracking a case. That’s so exciting!”

Odelia didn’t know if it was exciting or not, but she thanked her lucky stars her uncle had made this arrangement. This way she could be where the action was, and didn’t have to snoop around. Ever since he’d arrived in town, Chase had been reluctant to share information with her, considering her just another nosy reporter. Uncle Alec had quickly made it clear they did things differently down here in Hampton Cove, and since she was a great reporter he considered her an asset, not a hindrance. Chase had reluctantly complied.

“Let’s go,” he said a little gruffly.

“Let’s go, you guys,” she repeated to her cats.

He frowned.“You’re not thinking about dragging your cats along?”

“Of course. They…” She searched for a good excuse. She couldn’t tell him she wanted them to investigate. Talk to other cats. Figure out clues.

“They need the fresh air,” Mom supplied helpfully.

“Then send them into the backyard,” said Chase. “Plenty of air there.”

“Sea air, Chase,” Mom clarified. “It’s good for their… complexion.”

Chase had caught sight of his own cat and picked him up.“What do you think you’re doing here, buddy? No wonder I couldn’t find you this morning.”

“Brutus and Harriet are an item now,” Mom said with the sweetest of smiles. “You don’t want to get in the way of true love, do you, Chase?”

Chase seemed on the verge of saying something scathing, but controlled himself.“Let’s just get going. I’d like to arrive before the coroner shows up.”

Five minutes later, they were riding in Chase’s squad car, which was a souped-up beat-up old pickup truck, four cats in the back and Chase looking a little glum. He clearly wasn’t happy about this new arrangement, and he wasn’t happy about having to drag four cats along for the ride either.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“When Damien LeWood woke up this morning he found his wife next to him. Only she was missing her head.”

“That’s not good.”

He nodded grimly.“It was found on the dining room table, an apple in her mouth and a note pasted to her forehead. The note was signed Al Kida.”

“Al-Qaeda?”

“Not exactly.”

He quickly showed her a picture on his smartphone. The uniforms who’d arrived on the scene must have taken it. The note was signed by Al Kida.

“That’s weird.”

“You said it.”

“Poor Shana.” She might not have been a fan of the show, but nobody deserved to die such a gruesome death.

He slid her a sideways glance.“So are you up for this?”

“Up for what?”

“Chief Alec wants us to handle this investigation together. I’m running point, as I’m the cop in this particular constellation, and you’re…” His lips tightened, as if he had trouble uttering the words. “… the consultant.”

“You mean like Richard Castle?”

“Who?”

“Rick Castle? From the TV show?”

He grimaced.“Something like that.”

“So in this ‘constellation’ I’m Castle and you’re Kate Beckett, right?”

He glanced over and she thought she detected a glint of amusement in his eyes.“Does that mean you’ll get me one of those fancy espresso machines?”

She laughed.“Whatever floats your boat, Detective Kingsley.”

He raised an eyebrow.“Whatever?”

A tingle languidly fluttered up her spine. Was he flirting now? No way. Chase Kingsley didn’t flirt. “Within the boundaries of propriety, of course.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Poole.”

Oh, boy. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 4

They arrived at the beach house the Kenspeckles had rented for the summer. It was located along a strip of waterfront that was home to some of most expensive beachfront properties in Hampton Cove. This was where the other half lived. Each time she drove past the million-dollar McMansions she was impressed with the kind of lifestyle the rich and famous could afford. It was so far outside her own experience she felt like Alice in Wonderland.

The house the Kenspeckles had selected belonged to real estate mogul Merl Berkenstein. One of several top-tier properties the local estate agent had on offer. Merl had expensive tastes, which was probably why his offerings were so popular. When Chase’s pickup slowed to a stop in front of the gate, she saw the black wrought-iron contraption was topped with gilded spikes and adorned with a lion’s head captured in full roar. The Berkenstein logo.

Merl’s business partner had a major stake in one of Hollywood’s premier talent agencies, which was how he managed to entice so many A-listers to rent his properties. The ones that enjoyed staying here often ended up buying. They joined such luminaries as Steven Spielberg, Alec Baldwin and Jerry Seinfeld.

“Nice place,” she said as the gate slowly swung open.

“Yeah, it’s a great little pad.”

“It’s weirdly comforting that tragedy strikes even the best homes.”

He glanced over.“Was that sarcasm, Poole?”

“I don’t do sarcasm. Just an honest observation.”

“I could have sworn that was sarcasm.”

“Nope. Not sarcasm. Not me.”

Chase sped along the caramel-colored gravel drive and she looked around at the perfectly manicured grounds. The lawn was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, the shrubs sculptured to resemble Greek gods, and a smattering of angel and cherub statues dotted the landscape. Cherubs were a mainstay at Merl Berkenstein’s properties. Maybe the man had a cherub fixation. Maybe his mother had given him a cherub pacifier and then taken it away.

The drive took a turn and the house loomed up before them. It was invisible from the road, which wasn’t Merl’s habit. He usually didn’t like his houses to play peekaboo. He liked them to be visible from afar. To shock and awe with their sheer opulence and grandeur. To inspire envy. This one was designed to provide a measure of privacy, something she didn’t associate with the Kenspeckles. When you make a business out of showing off every inch of skin and milking every emotional outburst to an eager audience it’s hard to imagine there’s anything left to hide from the public eye. Perhaps even the Kenspeckles drew the line somewhere, though it was hard to know where.

The house was one of those Jekyll& Hyde places: the front was completely different from the back. For some reason the architect had kept the facade intact but torn down the rest of the house. The front was classic Victorian. Large vaulted windows offered a look at the gardens, and a wraparound verandah with lime and pink columns prettied up the view. There was even a small tower with a gilded weather vane perched on top.

“Nice.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” said Chase, parking his car in the circular driveway.

“Security is probably tight?”

“Pretty tight. The Kenspeckles brought along their personal security detail, then hired more muscle in town. They’re not fooling around.”

“And still they couldn’t keep out the bad guys.”

They exited the pickup and Odelia let the cats out. She gave Max a wink and watched the foursome traipse off. She had walked up to the front door before Chase stopped her with a wolf whistle. She turned to look and frowned at the circular sign he was making with his fingers. Obediently, she spun around. Chase laughed. “Not exactly what I meant, Poole. The front door is just that: a front. The actual entrance is around back.”

Her cheeks reddened.“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I thought I did.”

She jogged after him.“I figured you wanted to admire… the view.”

He cut his eyes to her Daisy Dukes.“I’m not complaining.”

She gave a silent groan. She knew she shouldn’t have picked this outfit. She wasn’t used to displaying so much skin. “Just thought I’d blend in.”

A grin spread across Chase’s features. “You stick out like a sore thumb, Poole. But in a good way.”

What did that even mean?“Glad you approve.”

At least she wasn’t wearing a halter top. Her modest boobage was safely tucked away. Which was just as well. She wasn’t wearing enough denim to cover her entire butt. Chase might get an eye twitch trying to take it all in.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly a conservative dresser either. His tight buns were shrink-wrapped inside a pair of faded jeans and his muscular torso stretched a white cotton T-shirt to within an inch of its life. Classic but effective. If you’ve got it, you better show it. And Chase definitely got it. His dark hair curled down to his shoulders, accentuating chiseled features, a square jaw and chocolate eyes. The man was one mean man machine.

The only concession to whimsy was a cowlick that refused to stay put, dangling provocatively across his brow. Ever since she met the guy she’d been tempted to tame that cowlick. So far she’d been able to tamp down the urge. But if he kept checking out her butt like that, all bets were off.

They followed the gravel footpath that led round the house and she watched the structure morph from Victorian to twenty-first-century modernism. Unlike the facade, the rest of the house was all steel and glass. The second floor cantilevered over the first floor like a glass box, and the third floor jutted even further out, creating a futuristic effect. Pretty cool and just as outlandish as the family who now rented the place for the summer.

There was a flurry of police activity, and Chase moved inside with a sense of purpose that reminded her of Moses parting the Red Sea. She followed in his wake, glancing at the pool area that stretched out behind the house. The moment she stepped inside the dining room, the touristy fun stopped.

Right there, in the center of the dining room table, like some Roger Corman movie prop, sat the head of Shana Kenspeckle. The reality star’s eyes were closed, an apple was stuck between her bleached teeth, and a note was glued to her forehead.

Odelia gasped at the sight. She’d seen Shana’s face so many times, on TV and in the magazines, that to see it without its body was surreal. It was almost as if the woman had stuck her head through a hole in the table for some magic act. Any second now she could open her eyes, smile that enigmatic smile of hers and shout, ‘Just kidding!’

But judging from the funereal atmosphere, and the grim-faced expressions of the uniformed officers stalking about, this wasn’t a scene from some horror movie. This was reality. And then it struck her: whoever had killed Shana Kenspeckle hadn’t just wanted to get her out of the way. They’d wanted to humiliate and debase her. Whoever the killer was had hated her.

Staring at the head was a short, paunchy man with hair like Doc Brown inBack to the Future. She recognized him as Abe Cornwall, the county coroner. In spite of his funky appearance he was a dedicated professional.

“So what have we got?” Chase asked.

“A dead body, a head and a weird note,” Abe grumbled.

“Weird note?”

“One of the uniforms is Lebanese-American. She said it’s the worst Arabic she’s ever seen. As if the killer entered a few random lines into Google Translate and decided to call it a day.”

“So it’s not terrorists?”

“Unless Al Kida is a terrorist, I doubt it.”

Chase stared at the note.“Gotcha.”

Abe was right. Whoever had written this note had wanted to make it look like Al Qaida was behind the murder, but had managed to botch the claim.

“What about time of death?” asked Chase.

“Judging from lividity and body temperature I’d say she died between three and four last night.”

“Body temperature?” Odelia asked. “Where’s the body?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Cause of death?” Chase asked, cool as a cucumber. As a former NYPD detective he’d probably witnessed his share of gruesome crime scenes.

“My best guess is that she was drugged in her sleep, most likely with a chloroform-type substance, and then killed by decapitation with a meat cleaver or a similar tool. I’ll have to check the lungs to be sure about the chloroform.”

“She wasn’t killed before they chopped off her head?” Chase asked.

Abe shook his head slowly.“Nope.”

“Pretty gruesome,” said Chase.

“Yep.”

She followed the coroner and Chase down the corridor that led from the dining room to a suite of bedrooms. Like the rest of the house, the corridor was all-white: white hardwood floor, white stucco walls and white ceiling. Small prints of sailing boats were the only decoration. They passed several officers, who nodded a greeting, then shook their heads in warning. Uh-oh.

She walked into the bedroom. The body was still where the killer had left it, though someone had removed the bed sheets. The moment Odelia caught sight of Shana, she thought she was going to be sick. The woman’s famous curves were clad in a red chiffon nightgown, and judging from her position she’d been fast asleep when the killer had struck. She was lying on her side, her doubleD chest facing them, and if it wasn’t for the fact that her head was missing, she could simply have been fast asleep.

“This is just too horrible,” she muttered, her stomach acting up.

“Maybe you should step outside for a minute,” Chase said.

He was right. She might be a hard-nosed reporter, but she suddenly felt as sick as when she’d had to dissect that frog in high school. She quickly walked out, leaving Chase and Abe to discuss the finer points of the murder. She’d get the details later. Right now she needed fresh air. Lots of fresh air.

She passed through the dining room, turning her head away from Shana’s head, and stepped out onto the deck. Placing her hands on her knees, she took in big gulps of air, trying to convince her stomach to hold down her breakfast. It would be bad form to chuck up in the Kenspeckle pool.

She glanced up when two beige ankle boots appeared in her field of vision. They belonged to Shayonne Kenspeckle, one of Shana’s older sisters.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said between swallows.

Shayonne nodded and darted a disapproving glance at her Crazy Cat Lady shirt and her Daisy Dukes.“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Odelia Poole. Special consultant to the Hampton Cove PD.”

Shayonne gave her a cursory handshake, barely touching her skin. She was the spitting image of her sister, only with slightly coarser features, and instead of straight hair her dark hair was curly, with blonde highlights. She was dressed in a Dior top that announced she was the‘Sexiest Woman Alive,’ a pair of cropped jeans, and designer sunglasses pushed up into her ‘do.

“I was the one who found… the head,” Shayonne said, closing her eyes and pressing long purple fingernails against her forehead, her lips trembling.

“I’m so sorry.”

She opened her eyes.“Do you think they’ll come for me next?”

“Who will?”

“Al Qaida. Isn’t it obvious? We’re being targeted by these terrorists.”

“Oh, you mean the note. That was just a ruse, Mrs. Kenspeckle.”

The woman stared at Odelia.“A ruse? What do you mean?”

“The killer tried to make it look like terrorists were involved, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No. We’ll have the note translated, but it looks like it’s a fake.”

Shayonne clasped a hand to her ample bosom and breathed a sigh of relief.“Thank God. I thought we were under attack. That I would be next.”

“Well, you are under attack, but not from Mr. Albert Kida.”

She wondered what the procedure was. Probably Chase wanted to interview Shayonne, but if she got a head start she was sure he wouldn’t mind. They were a team. From the corner of her eye she saw Max and the others slink into view and disappear into the house. Which reminded her…

“Do you have any animals, Mrs. Kenspeckle? Dogs, cats… cockatoos?”

The last murder case she’d been involved in, the victim had owned a cockatoo, which had made Max’s work very difficult. Cats and birds don’t get along really well, and the bird had refused to divulge a single clue to him.

“Well, Shana has a French Bulldog,” said Shayonne.

“Oh, that’s right.” She remembered now. Even though she’d told Max she wasn’t a fan of the Kenspeckles, that didn’t mean she hadn’t caught a few episodes over the years. Perhaps even more than a few. “Kane, right?”

Shayonne nodded. Just then, the bulldog came waddling out. The moment he caught sight of Odelia, he started barking.

Arf, arf, arf.

“That’s all right, Kane,” said Shayonne. “Miss…”

“Poole. Odelia Poole.”

Arf, arf, arf.

“Miss Poole is here to catch the bad person who killed Mommy.”

Arf, arf, arf.

Shayonne swept Kane up in her arms and the dog stared at Odelia, his body trembling with hostility, a long slab of pink dangling from his mouth, his face puckered into a perpetual scowl. She didn’t think Max would get a lot out of this Frenchie. Like cats and birds, cats and dogs don’t get along.

“He’s been barking up a storm all morning,” said Shayonne, snuggling the bulldog and giving him a peck on his ugly little face. “You miss Mommy, don’t you? Don’t you, Kane? Mh?” And then she burst into tears. “Oh, God! She’s really gone, isn’t she? Gone for good! And to think the last words I said to Shana were that I hated her and that I wished she would just die!”

Odelia stared at the woman.“But… why?”

“Because she was sleeping with my husband, that’s why!”

Chapter 5

We’d been sneaking all over the house but so far not a sign of a feline inhabitant. The only animal we’d met was some horrible dog who couldn’t keep his trap shut. Just our luck: a murder had taken place and the only animal in the house was a stupid French Bulldog. I should have known going in that a family as peripatetic as the Kenspeckles would prefer canines to felines. And I was just about to give up when I caught sight of a rust-colored, scrawny cat, casually licking her paws while seated on a pool lounge chair.

Clarice, Hampton Cove’s resident feral menace, looked right at home.

“Look, you guys,” I said. “It’s Clarice.”

“Not again,” Dooley cried, quickly covering his nose.

The last time we met Clarice, Dooley’s nose had suffered because of the blood oath Clarice had made us swear in exchange of some information.

“Oh, no,” said Brutus, for once agreeing with Dooley. “I’m not going anywhere near that monster.”

“She’s actually very nice once you get to know her,” I told him.

That wasn’t exactly true. Clarice wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Quentin Tarantino movie. But for once I had Brutus at a disadvantage.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Harriet. “Last time Brutus got hurt.”

“Last time Brutus fainted like a kitten,” Dooley muttered.

“I didn’t faint,” Brutus countered vehemently. “I… I simply pretended to faint. I was trying to create a diversion so you could escape with your lives.”

“Oh, that was so brave of you, Brutus,” Harriet gushed.

“Looked to me like you fainted at the sight of blood,” I said.

“Puh-lease,” he scoffed. “Me? Fainting at the sight of blood? As if!”

“Look, Clarice is perfectly harmless,” I said. “She’s just… eccentric.”

“Lady Gaga is eccentric, that cat is just… wacko,” Dooley said.

“Wacko or not, we need her,” I said, and stalked off in her direction.

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, but if we were going to find out who killed Shana, we could leave no stone unturned, even the wacko ones.

“Hey there, Clarice,” I said as pleasantly as I could.

She gave me a cursory glance, but kept on licking her paw.

“What a great day, huh?” I said nervously. “Sun is shining, sky’s blue…”

Still no response. I took a hesitant seat at the foot of the lounger. Clarice is a fount of information. She doesn’t owe allegiance to anyone and roams Hampton Cove day and night, looking for food. She’s familiar with every nook and cranny, and knows where all the bodies are buried since she’s the one who buried them. Critter bodies, that is. She doesn’t kill humans. I think.

“We, um, we’re trying to figure out who killed Shana Kenspeckle,” I continued. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen something, would you?”

The others had joined us, but were keeping a safe distance. Dooley was still covering his nose, just to make sure Clarice didn’t slice and dice it again. But Clarice simply ignored us, and kept on grooming herself. The pool was right next to the lounger, and the sun was reflected off the crystal clear water. It also reflected off Clarice’s claw and I gulped when I saw she was watching me intently. I was suddenly reminded of Azrael, the Smurfs’ mortal enemy.

I quickly looked away, and saw that the house was still a beehive of activity, with cops everywhere, doing whatever it was they were doing. Odelia was chatting with one of the Kenspeckle sisters, who was holding that nasty little mutt in her arms. For once the dog wasn’t yapping furiously.

“That dog should be put down,” Clarice suddenly said.

I was glad she finally spoke. I was even gladder it wasn’t me she wanted to be put down. “I couldn’t agree more. That dog is completely useless.”

“He’s been barking up a storm all morning, annoying the heck out of me.”

“That’s what he does. Yap, yap, yap. That dog has no off switch.”

Great. We were bonding over our shared dislike of the canine species.

“That masked killer should have taken his head instead of the woman’s.”

I stared at her.“You saw the killer?”

Her eyes narrowed.“What’s it to you?”

“I’m helping Odelia solve the murder.”

She shook her flea-bitten, patchy head.“You don’t get it, do you? When are you going to stop betraying your own species, Max? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that humans are not your friends?”

“Odelia isn’t like other humans. She takes care of us.”

“Odelia loves us,” said Dooley, overcoming his fear.

Clarice made a loud hissing sound, baring her teeth, and Dooley yelped and almost toppled into the pool.“Humans can’t be trusted,” she said. “They’re mean and vicious. They chop each other’s heads off!”

“You chop off the heads of mice and rats,” Harriet countered.

“That’s different. I would never hurt my own species.” Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Though I might be tempted to make an exception for you.”

Harriet gulped. Brutus, now that his mate was under attack, decided to step up.“Now look here, you… you cat. That is no way to talk to my girl.”

“Girl!” Clarice emitted a series of low grunts that I figured was her way of laughing. “Cats don’t have girlfriends! We don’t mate for life!”

“Well, some of us do,” Brutus said, winking at Harriet, who giggled.

“Well, then you happen to be an even bigger moron than I thought.”

Brutus puffed out his chest.“Hey. Who are you calling a moron?!”

“You,” she said. “You’ve lived with humans so long you’ve become one.”

I had the sinking feeling this conversation was getting away from me.“Look, all we want is to solve this murder,” I told her. “Is that so bad?”

“Yes, it is. By helping humans solve their murders you’re perpetuating the species. As far as I’m concerned, the more they murder each other the better. Soon there won’t be any humans left and this world will be ours again.”

“Good luck with that,” Dooley muttered.

I cleared my throat.“Be that as it may,” I said, “I still would like to know who killed Shana Kenspeckle. It would mean a great deal to me personally.”

“Why?”

“Um, because I’m a great fan of the Kenspeckles?”

“Of course you are. You’re a disgrace to the feline species, Max. You and your friends. You have sold your soul for a can of cat food and a pat on the head. It’s disgusting.” She hopped from the sun lounger and stalked off.

“Wait!” I cried. “What about a big, juicy piece of raw meat?!”

She halted in her tracks and looked back.“What about it?”

“I, um, I’ve got one that has your name on it.” No, I didn’t.

She licked her lips and I could see she was torn between her reluctance to help us out and her desire for a nice piece of raw meat.“Tell me more.”

I darted a pleading look at Brutus and he rolled his eyes. He knew just as well as me that I didn’t have any meat to offer. “Chicken wings,” he said reluctantly. “You can have one of my chicken wings.”

“Go on.”

He darted a dirty look at me.“And I’ll throw in a couple chicken necks.”

She stalked back to us.“Keep talking, fat boy.”

Brutus growled something at the back of his throat. I gave him a poke.

“Chicken liver,” he said. “Chase knows how much I like chicken liver.”

“I’m starting to like you more and more, fatso. Don’t stop.”

He was shaking his head now, giving me a death stare.

“Just think how happy Chase will be when I solve this murder,” I said.

“You solve this murder?I solve this murder,” he growled. He cut his eyes to Clarice. “Raw, blood-red steak. Straight from the best butcher in town.”

Clarice’s upper lip curled up into a feral snarl. “You’re now officially my new best friend. And where can I find all this good stuff?”

Brutus gave Clarice his address, which was actually Uncle Alec’s address, since Chase was still living with him. It was taking him some time to find a place of his own in town. Not that he minded. Chief Alec was a widower, so the men had the house to themselves and were reliving their bachelor days.

“You never told us you ate steak,” I told Brutus.

“Why would I share my steak with you, Max?” Brutus asked. “It’s not exactly as if you rolled out the welcome mat when I arrived in town.”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes.“That’s because you’ve been trying to take over this town from day one.”

He shrugged.“Just sharing my worldly wisdom with you local yokels.”

“Brutus has offered me some of his meat,” said Harriet. “It’s delish.”

“Of course it is,” Dooley murmured, directing a pleading look at the sky.

“So do you want to know about this murder or not?” asked Clarice.

“Yes, we do,” I said.

“I saw the murder,” said Clarice. “I saw the whole thing.”

“And?” Harriet asked excitedly. “Who did it?”

“No idea. The killer was covered in a long black robe.”

“Like Severus Snape?” asked Dooley, who was a big Harry Potter fan.

Clarice blinked.“I have no idea who that is. All I know is that I couldn’t see the killer’s face, as he or she was wearing a black mask of some kind.”

“Probably so they wouldn’t get blood all over them,” said Brutus. When we stared at him, he added, “What? Cutting off a head is a bloody business.”

I didn’t want to know how he knew. He, Uncle Alec and Chase probably watched too many horror movies. Or football games. They can get bloody.

“It was pretty gruesome,” Clarice said, which surprised me. A lot.

“Oh, I can imagine,” said Harriet commiseratingly. “Just tell us everything, Clarice. You’ll feel so much better. It’ll be like therapy.”

Clarice gave Harriet her best glare, but the prospect of raw meat was still more enticing than the inconvenience of having to put up with Harriet.“The killer first held some kind of rag to Shana and her husband’s faces, and then…” She closed her eyes, reliving the horror. “Then the sick bastard chopped off her head with a meat cleaver. I couldn’t watch. The worst part? That stupid dog just lay there. Instead of defending his master, he simply took it all in. Just goes to show dogs are the stupidest creatures on the planet.”

We all stared at Kane, who looked back at us, his tongue lolling. The moment he caught sight of five cats lounging by the pool, he blew a gasket. He jumped from Shayonne’s arms and came running straight at us.

Arf, arf, arf.

“Run!” I yelled.

Arf, arf, arf.

I set off in the direction of the garden, hoping to find a tree high enough to escape this hairy monster. But instead of coming after me, he produced the sweetest sound in the world: the sound of a dog squealing in pain. When I looked back, I saw Kane racing toward the house, his tail between his legs.

“What happened?” I asked.

In response, Clarice showed me her paw. There was blood on her claws.

“Let’s just say he won’t bother us again,” she said with a nasty grin.

Chapter 6

Odelia goggled at Shayonne.“Shana was sleeping with your husband?”

Shayonne nodded. She’d been momentarily distracted when Kane first jumped from her arms to chase Max and his friends, then raced into the house after getting his nose clawed by the ugliest cat Odelia had ever seen.

“Shana always had a craving for male attention. Even as a teen she tried to seduce every man she met. The fact that she was married to one of the greatest men alive apparently wasn’t enough for her. She had to seduce my man, too. And Dion is weak, so weak he fell for her fatal charm.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “That must have been a great shock.”

“It was,” said Shayonne. She blinked. “Can we do this again?”

“Come again?”

“No, do this again. The big reveal. I feel I can do better.”

Only now did Odelia notice the cameraman filming them.

“Um, what’s going on?” she asked, a little perplexed.

Shayonne held up a finger while she closed her eyes.“Just a second. I wanna get this right.” When she opened her eyes again, Odelia saw there were tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. “Shana craved men,” she said in a dramatic voice. “She was a natural born seductress who had to devour every male she met. The fact that she was married to one of the greatest singers of all time didn’t stop her from hitting on my man. And Dion fell for it.”

“Great take,” said the cameraman, chewing gum. He was a chunky guy with a pasty face, patches of red hair peeping from under his Lakers cap.

“I still feel like I’m missing something,” said Shayonne. “Oh, wait. I think I’ve got it.” Once again, she pressed tears from her eyes, and said in a deep, sultry voice, “Dion is a weak, deeply flawed individual. And he fell for my sister.”

“Love it,” said the cameraman. “That’s a keeper.”

“Thanks,” said Shayonne, wiping away her tears.

“How-how do you do that?” asked Odelia, fascinated.

“It’s a trick,” said Shayonne. “I think of dead puppies. Works every time.”

“Dead puppies. Huh. Interesting.”

“Yoo-hoo! Alejandro! Over here!”

She watched as a curly-haired man with olive skin walked up. He was the spitting image of Antonio Banderas, and oozed charm and male charisma.

“This is the director of the show,” Shayonne said. “Alejandro Salanova.” Odelia expected Shayonne to introduce her, but apparently she wasn’t important enough. “Have you filmed the body?” she asked, sounding more like a producer than a mourning sister.

“Not yet,” said Alejandro. “The cops won’t let us. They say it’s a crime scene and we’re not allowed inside until they remove the body.”

“Crap,” said Shayonne, then turned to Odelia. “You’re a cop, right? Can’t you arrange for Alejandro and his crew to shoot the body and the head?”

“I, um…” Odelia was lost for words. She’d known the Kenspeckles had a show to run, but she’d figured this tragedy would put a stop to all of that. “Aren’t you going to cancel the show now that your sister… is dead?”

Shayonne’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Cancel the show? Honey, this is the best thing that could have happened to us.”

“We’ll shoot right up in the ratings,” said Alejandro. He stuck up his index finger for emphasis. “Numero uno, baby!”

“We’ve been dropping in the ratings,” Shayonne explained. “It’s time to reclaim the top spot again, and this whole murder thing just might do it.”

She stared at the woman, wondering if she was a human or a robot.

Shayonne turned away.“Just muscle your way in there. Don’t take no for an answer. Get a few good shots of the body and the head before it’s too late.”

And with these words she stalked off to give further instructions to Alejandro and his crew. Odelia watched them walk into the house and realized her jaw was still on the floor. She hitched it up and walked over to the loungers to join Max and the cats. She plunked down, shaking her head.

“The killer was wearing some kind of long black robe,” said Max.

“Uh-huh,” she said, watching as the cameraman started filming inside the dining room, ignoring the protestations of several police officers nearby.

“Clarice saw the whole thing. She was right there when it happened.”

This time Max caught her attention.“She witnessed the murder?”

“Yep. She told us the whole story in exchange for a juicy steak. Why does Brutus get to eat steak and we don’t, Odelia? I like steak. We all do.”

“Meat is expensive, buddy. A reporter’s salary will only get you so far.”

He shook his head.“Of course. I knew that. I’m sorry. It’s just that…” He waved a paw. “That Brutus is driving me crazy. With his chicken wings and his chicken necks and his… his chicken liver.”

“Just like his master,” Odelia said. She watched as Chase and Alejandro went toe to toe, the veins in Chase’s neck pulsating. She sighed. “Though he doesn’t have a chicken neck.” She watched as he gestured with his muscular arms, threatening to wring the director’s neck. “Or chickenwings.”

This wasn’t going to end well, she thought, but then Shayonne stepped in, employing her secret weapon. Tears flowed from the reality star’s eyes as she implored Chase to allow Alejandro to shoot his ‘home movie’ so the family could forever cherish Shana’s memory. Dead puppies again. She could see Chase’s resolve weaken under the onslaught. Oh, man. This was brutal.

“Weird,” said Max, commenting on the scene.

“So weird,” she agreed. “So what did Clarice say?”

And as Max filled her in, she wondered how she was going to convey this information to Chase. They were now looking for a blood-soaked black robe and a meat cleaver. Only she couldn’t tell him. She stroked Max’s fur and he purred softly. “You’re getting raw meat tonight, buddy. You did good.”

“But I thought you said it was too expensive.”

“This is a special occasion. You just helped solve a murder.”

“Thanks, Odelia,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome.” They watched as Chase caved. Shalonda Kenspeckle had shown up. She was the spitting image of Shayonne, only her long, dark hair sported red highlights. She was rocking a clingy white top and a miniskirt. Very stylish. Now both sisters were crying their eyes out. There’s only so much a man can bear, and soon the cameraman was hoisting the camera onto his shoulder with a triumphant flourish and filming resumed.

Chase came stumbling out of the house, looking sandbagged.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked as he took a seat next to Odelia.

“Welcome to reality TV, Detective,” she said. “Try to keep up.”

Chapter 7

While Odelia and Chase tried to take control of the crime scene, Dooley, Harriet, Brutus and I were busy trying to figure out what else we could do to solve this murder case. Clarice had pulled one of her disappearing acts again and had vanished like a puff of smoke. Typical. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. And without even bothering to say goodbye.

“Are you really going to share your meat with her?” Harriet asked.

“Sure,” said Brutus. “At least until I solve this murder. The moment I catch the killer she can kiss her meat goodbye.” I noticed the big bully sounded a lot more macho now that Clarice wasn’t there to keep him in line.

“Why would Clarice kiss her meat goodbye?” asked Dooley. “Wouldn’t she just eat it?”

“It’s an expression,” I told him.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why kiss your meat goodbye?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet with a sigh.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up.

“Just go away.”

“Go away? Go where?”

“Anywhere. Just stop asking stupid questions.”

I patted my friend on the back.“It’s all right, Dooley. You know what they say. There are no stupid questions. Only stupid answers.”

“I didn’t know they said that.”

“Well, now you do.”

“We should split up,” Brutus said. “You and Dooley go this way. Harriet and I will go that way.” He was vaguely gesturing toward the house.

“Why?” asked Dooley, remembering there are no stupid questions.

“I’ve got a better chance cracking this case than you two losers. Isn’t that right, sugar pie?”

The sugar pie bit wasn’t directed at either me or Dooley. It was meant for Harriet, who fluttered her eyelashes. “Of course I agree, honey bunch. With your intellect and my charm I’m sure we’ll crack this case right open.”

I eyed Brutus suspiciously.“You’ve got a theory, haven’t you?”

“You bet your whiskers I do. I’m surprised you don’t. It’s staring you right in the face.”

Dooley looked around.“What’s staring us in the face?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, rolling her eyes.

“Look, whatever you think you know, I’m Odelia’s cat, so I’m the one who helps her solve the murder. So you better tell me what you know.”

Brutus grinned.“Not this time, Maxie baby. This time we’re doing things different.” He tapped his chest, like a miniature King Kong. “I’m going to solve this case. And I’m going to make sure Odelia knows it.”

I shook my head.“You can’t do that. That’s not fair.”

Harriet shrugged.“I think it’s time you learned to share, Max. You’ve had Odelia all to yourself for far too long. It’s time to share her with Brutus.”

“But-but-but,” I sputtered. I caught Brutus’s eye and I could tell he was enjoying himself. For the first time since he arrived in town he had me licked.

“That’s not very nice of you,” said Dooley. “Odelia is Max’s human.”

Harriet walked up to him.“Odelia is our human, Dooley. She cares about all of us. You. Me. Max. And now Brutus. We’re one big happy family.”

She sold it so well I almost bought it. But Odelia knew all about Brutus’s habit of bossing us around. She’d never accept him into our home if I didn’t want to. So maybe I didn’t have to worry. Even if he solved the murder first, Odelia would still love me the most. Right?

I watched Brutus and Harriet stalk off.“You’re right, Dooley,” I said.

“I am?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s not very nice of Harriet to take Brutus’s side like that.”

“So she’s not our friend anymore?”

“She is, but she’s strayed from the path of true friendship.” I shook my head. “Somehow we’re going to have to show her the error of her ways.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I think you’re probably right.”

“Let’s just do what we do best and find ourselves a killer.”

“All right,” he said with a yawn. “But maybe we’ll take a nap first?”

“No napping,” I said decidedly. “First we catch the killer, then we nap.”

Dooley sighed.“Oh, all right. So where do we start?”

“We’ll just snoop around. Be the perfect spies.”

“Pity the Kenspeckles don’t have cats. Otherwise this would be a snap.”

We both stared at Kane, who was staring back at us from a safe distance. He’d lost his fighting spirit after his scrap with Clarice. Or maybe he was trying to come up with a new strategy to take us down.

We walked to the house, and the French Bulldog disappeared from sight. Whatever his strategy was, he wasn’t taking any chances. I saw that the director of the Kenspeckle show was instructing his cameraman about what to shoot next. The two sisters, Shayonne and Shalonda, having shot their scenes, were being fussed over by a makeup person. A stylist pecked at the hem of Shalonda’s skirt, which had silver sequins snaking down the sides.

“Must be nice to have someone fussing over you like that,” said Dooley.

“I doubt it. I for one wouldn’t want anyone telling me what to wear.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re a cat. You don’t wear anything.”

“You’re a cat too,” I reminded him. “You don’t wear anything either.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked surprised. “Pity.”

“Pity you don’t get to wear clothes? Why? I’ll bet it’s a big fuss.”

“Not if you’re a Kenspeckle. They have people fussing over the fuss.”

And we were right back where we started.“Why would you even want to wear clothes? Or have someone fussing over you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Just imagine having your own personal groomer. Someone to take care of your fur twenty-four seven. Or a personal dietician.”

He had a point. It sure would be nice to be pampered and spoiled and treated like a Kenspeckle. Not that Odelia doesn’t take good care of me, but she’s pretty pressed for time most of the time, with that job of hers and all.

Dooley sighed wistfully.“Wouldn’t it be nice to be human for a change?”

That was taking it too far.“No way! I would never want to be human.”

“Why not?”

“Uh-uh. Too much stress. Imagine having to work for a living, so you can pay for a roof over your head and food on your table. What a nightmare. And then there’s the IRS to deal with and the electric company and the insurance people. I think us cats have the best deal. All we do is sleep a lot,rub our human’s legs from time to time, look cute doing it and they pay the rent, the electric bill, the medical bill… All so we can focus on the important stuff.”

“Like sleeping and eating.”

“No. All of that frees up time to think.”

He stared at me.“Think? Think about what?”

“Well, this case for instance. Who killed Shana Kenspeckle.”

“Riiight.” It was obvious I lost him. Dooley is not exactly a big thinker. In fact, apart from eating and sleeping, I don’t think he’s got a lot on his mind. Except Harriet, of course. The cat’s obsessed with Harriet for some reason. No idea why. I would never get that obsessed over a female. It’s degrading.

We watched as the body of Shana was carted off on a stretcher. The coroner had done his bit and stood conferring with Chase. Odelia was keeping an eye on Shayonne and Shalonda who were still being prepped.

“They don’t show a lot of emotion between takes,” Dooley said.

“They probably reserve all of it for when the cameras are rolling.”

“Weird.”

“Totally.”

I caught a glimpse of Brutus and Harriet, sneaking into the house, and I nudged Dooley.“We better get a move on. Or else Brutus will beat us to it.”

He started.“Brutus is going to beat us?”

“Oh, Dooley.”

Chapter 8

“I’m starting to think they’re all guilty.”

“How do you figure?”

“Shayonne told me the murder is the best thing that could have happened to them.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “She said that?”

“Yep. The show’s been dropping in the ratings, and the murder will turn that around. Put them right back on top.”

“That’s just cold.”

“Which is why I think they might have set this up together.”

“You mean the whole family is in on this?”

“That’s exactly what I think. They needed to salvage their show so they decided to sacrifice one of them.” Now that she spoke the words out loud, it sounded a bit far-fetched. Still, it was a plausible theory. Fairly plausible.

“That’s just crazy, Poole.”

Or not.

“The Kenspeckles might be a little dysfunctional, but they’re not killers.”

She watched as the cameras started rolling again. On cue, Shayonne and Shalonda broke down in tears, clutching at each other for support.

“A little dysfunctional?” she asked.

“Well, maybe a lot dysfunctional. But that doesn’t make them killers.”

“So what’s next?” She had no idea how to conduct a police investigation. This was the first time she was on the inside, not on the outside looking in.

“I got a message from your uncle just before,” Chase said. “He’s cutting his vacation short and will be back tomorrow.”

“What? He was looking forward to that fishing trip.”

“The mayor is considering calling in the FBI so he needs to be here to convince him otherwise.”

She made a mental eye roll.“The FBI? This is a local investigation.”

“Apparently the Kenspeckles are considered a national treasure.”

She watched as Shayonne and Shalonda stood hamming it up in front of the camera and shook her head.“Some national treasure.”

He grinned.“There’s that sarcasm again.”

“Nope. Like I said, I don’t do sarcasm. Not me.”

“Let’s see if your uncle can persuade the mayor to keep the FBI out of this. First things first: we need to set up interviews with everyone involved.”

“What about the note?”

“What about it?”

“What does it say?”

He slipped his iPhone from his back pocket and showed her a snapshot of the note.“We fed it into Google Translate and it spat out this message.”

She took his phone and read out loud, “You deserve to die, Shana Kenspeckle. You are dog excrement. In fact you’re less than dog excrement. You’re the fly on dog excrement. In fact you’re the excrement from the fly on dog excrement. Or the ameba on the fly’s excrement.” It went on like this for a while. The final sentence read, “Hellfire will rain down on you and your filthy brood. This is just the beginning.” She handed him back his phone. “I guess the killer is not a big Kenspeckle fan.”

“The fact that these phrases came out in perfect English means the original message was written in English and then translated with Google Translate. Otherwise only gobbledygook would have come out. Which means—”

“This was a pretty feeble attempt to make it look like a terrorist attack.”

He smiled.“Which tells us the killer isn’t a professional.”

She wondered whether to tell him they were looking for a blood-splattered black robe and mask. But since she couldn’t tell him about the robe without revealing her secret, she decided to keep mum. It didn’t matter anyway, as Clarice hadn’t gotten a look at the killer’s face.

Chase headed for the bedroom and she followed him. She stared down at the bed. The coroner’s people had stripped the sheets for evidence but had left the stained mattress. “The killer was smart,” Chase said. “Abe found traces of chloroform in all the bedrooms. All the Kenspeckles were drugged.”

“What about the film crew?”

“Nope. Not a trace. But since they’re staying at the guest house and aren’t allowed in the main house when shooting wraps that wasn’t necessary.”

“They’re not allowed inside the house?”

“The Kenspeckles have strict rules about it. They cherish their privacy.”

“Except when they don’t. Like when they share every private moment with a worldwide audience.”

He smiled.“Ah, but they only show you what they want you to see.”

She nodded.“So did you check the rooms for prints?” Dumb question. The guy was a bonafide detective. And the killer had probably worn gloves.

“Well, we tried, but the Kenspeckles gave us a lot of lip. Any normal family would have canceled their trip, moved to a hotel until they could catch a flight home, and given us free reign to search the place top to bottom. But the sisters are adamant to stay here and finish the shoot.”

“They’re giving you a hard time.”

“They sure are. And I don’t even know why. It’s almost as if they don’t want us to find the killer.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he said, “And don’t give me that ‘The whole family is in on this’ nonsense, Poole.”

She quickly closed her mouth again. No, that was just a crazy theory.

She glanced at the window, where Clarice must have been watching the killer. Chills ran down her spine. What a horrible scene to watch. A thought occurred to her.“The killer must have known his way around the place.”

Chase nodded, a sparkle in his eye.“Uh-huh.”

“He also knew the film crew would never set foot inside the house after filming was finished for the day. And he also had access to the house.”

“Go on.”

She smiled.“This was an inside job. The killer was either a family member or security personnel. They were the only ones with access.”

“Your uncle Alec was right,” he said with a grin. “You’re pretty astute.”

“Watch me. I’ll catch this killer before you can say ‘fly excrement.’”

“Fly excrement.”

“Smart-ass.”

Chapter 9

Dooley and I searched around for the best vantage point. It had to be clean and comfy, and it had to be high enough so we could have a great view. I caught sight of a fabulous beige crocodile couch. I felt bad for the crocodiles that had lost life and hide, but the couch was easily the best spot in the room, affording 360 vision and a soft, flat surface. It was exactly what we needed. I gave Dooley a nudge and we both hopped up onto the couch, clambered over about a million embroidered throw pillows and settled on the head rest.

All the main principals were gathered on the deck for an impromptu meeting, and Dooley and I settled in to watch. Don’t look so shocked. We’re cats. Lying around and spying on humans is what we do. It had also crossed my mind that there was probably some yummy food to be found in this place, and from here we could look straight into the kitchen. I was pretty sure Kane got the best food money could buy, and I wanted me some of that.

Us cats might not like dogs, but we like to steal their food just fine.

“Look, Max,” said Dooley, pointing to the kitchen. Brutus was chasing Kane, and the dog was doing his utmost to stay out of his clutches.

“Looks like Brutus is trying to talk to Kane,” I said lazily. After all this traipsing around I was starting to feel the strain, and I was ready for a nap. I know I’d told Dooley we’d nap once we caught the killer, but the couch was so comfy, and the sun on our furs so nice and warm, I was feeling drowsy.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” said Dooley with a cavernous yawn.

“Probably something to do with his so-called theory.”

Brutus always has theories, usually pretty far-fetched. We had another murder not so long ago, when a famous eighties pop singer was killed. Brutus thought things through and came up with the theory that the guy had been killed by a conspiracy of boy toys. He probably thought a confederacy of French Bulldogs had killed Shana Kenspeckle and Kane was the ring leader.

“I don’t think we need to worry about Brutus cracking this case,” I said.

I returned my attention to the Kenspeckles, who were concluding their meeting. Shayonne was there, and Shalonda, and of course Shayonne’s husband Dion, and Shana’s husband Damien LeWood. They were discussing things with Alejandro Salanova, the director, and some of the other crew members. I also saw a bodyguard hovering nearby, pressing a finger to his ear from time to time and looking decidedly shifty-eyed. A barber had had fun with his facial hair, which ran in three parallel lines from his lips to his ears, where it morphed into a butter-colored buzzcut, and he was rocking golden hoops. He reminded me of the Genie in Disney’s Aladdin, without the blue body paint. And the grin. This guy had never cracked a smile in his life.

“I think they’re going to start filming again,” said Dooley.

“Well, they have to strike while the iron is hot, I suppose,” I said. Everybody would want to know what happened, and who better to inform them than the Kenspeckles themselves? Regular families would probably mourn in silence. The Kenspeckles filmed another episode of their show.

“It’s that old saying,” said Dooley. “The show must move on.”

“Go on.”

“But I just got here.”

“No, I mean the show.”

“What about it?”

“The show must go on.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said… Forget about it.”

“Forget about the show?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dooley.”

Once again, Brutus came shooting past us, chasing Kane, who was now running for his life. He probably thought Brutus was going to cut him, like Clarice had. Brutus took a breather, glaring up at us.“Do I have to do all the work around here? Why don’t you two lazy bums give me a paw already?”

“You said you wanted to split up, remember? Split up into teams.”

He made a throwaway gesture with his paw.“Gah. Fuggedaboutit.”

We watched him stalk off again, muttering something under his breath. It didn’t sound very friendly. I didn’t care. It was fun to watch Brutus run around like a headless chicken. I’d never seen a cat chase a dog before, and the sight was both disturbing and highly entertaining.

Odelia and Chase came walking into the living room and Odelia gave us a wink. I tried to wink back, but cat’s eyes aren’t made for winking, so it probably came off weird. She got the message, though: we were on the case.

Just then, a person pointing a camera came crashing through the privacy hedge lining the deck and pool area. He looked a little crazed and hyped up.

“Paparazzi alert,” I told Dooley.

“Oh, is that a paparazzi?” he asked, interested.

“Paparazzo. They only call them paparazzi when they travel in packs.”

The moment the photog caught sight of the Kenspeckle sisters, he started clicking his camera, firing off questions like a machine gun toting kook.

“Shayonne! Shayonne! Where were you when your sister was killed?!”

Highly inappropriate, I felt. Genie the Bodyguard felt the same way, for he tried to swat the pap like a bug. The photographer dove under Genie’s massive arm and just kept shooting like the nasty little shutterbug he was.

“Is it true that Shana was sleeping with your husband, Shayonne?!”

The paparazzo narrowly avoided a flying tackle and darted away in the direction of the pool, the bodyguard close on his heel and moving in.

“Is this the end of the Kenspeckles?! The final nail in your coffin?!”

“Wow. That’s just plain mean,” said Dooley.

We watched the bodyguard zoom in on the pap. Amazingly, the scrawny pap kept on firing his camera. Courage under fire. Or the smell of money.

“For a guy built like a freight train that bodyguard sure moves fast,” Dooley said.

“I think he’s going to catch him. I think he’s going to catch him and sit on his head and squash him like a melon.”

But then the reporter lost his footing and splashed headfirst into the pool.

“Aw,” both Dooley and I said. Talk about a downer ending.

I was starting to feel like those two old guys onThe Muppet Show, Statler and Waldorf, keeping up a running commentary. And I was starting to understand the appeal of the Kenspeckles. They sure knew how to put on a good show. You never knew what was going to happen next.

The bodyguard plucked the photog from the pool and dragged him ashore. He looked like a drowned chicken, spluttering and yelling his head off. He was still holding on to his camera, though, and was clicking away.

“You have to hand it to him,” Dooley said. “He’s one dedicated dude.”

The bodyguard started frogmarching the intruder off the premises. Just then, Kane came racing past, followed by a panting Brutus. They slipped between the bodyguard’s feet, and he toppled into the pool, dragging the paparazzo with him, making a big splash. The spray spattered all the way to Shayonne and Shalonda Kenspeckle, who shouted their annoyance. They used words I’d never heard before. Very original. And very colorful.

“Man, they’ve got dirty mouths,” said Dooley, looking shocked.

“They’ll probably cut that from the show. Have to keep it PG.”

The bodyguard and the paparazzo came splashing from the pool, both soaking wet, the bodyguard’s face a thundercloud. The man was seriously pissed. Just then, more paparazzi came crashing through the boxwood hedge, and suddenly we were at a full-blown red-carpet event, cameras clicking and people shouting and clamoring for attention. More bodyguards came rushing to the scene, trying to catch the out-of-control paps.

“This is so much fun!” Dooley cried.

There were paparazzi everywhere, chased by burly rent-a-cops. A few more paps ended up in the pool while others were pinned to the deck. In the middle of all this pandemonium, Brutus was still chasing Kane, though the chase had slowed down to a crawl as both were running out of gas now.

“I’m starting to like the Kenspeckles,” I said. “Great entertainment value.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Dooley. “Ouch.” The exclamation was in reference to more paparazzi tripping over Brutus and Kane. They were tackling more paps than the bodyguards were. Maybe the Kenspeckles should appoint Brutus to head up their security team. He was doing some serious damage.

“Looks like Brutus is scoring one for the home team,” I said.

Harriet had jumped up on the couch and was watching the scene intently.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your boyfriend?” Dooley asked a little bitterly.

I didn’t blame him. Us cats might not be on Facebook but that doesn’t mean we like it when someone unfriends us the way Harriet had done.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Harriet said, shaking her head sadly. “He’s got this cockamamie theory about the murder, and he’s adamant that Kane is going to supply him with the missing link to the killer.”

“What’s his theory?” I asked.

She hesitated, loyalty to her boyfriend warring with her desire to unburden her soul. Finally the need to confide in someone won out.“He thinks Shana was killed by a giant dog who bit her head off.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. I hadn’t expected this.

“A giant dog?” asked Dooley. “You mean like a big, humongous dog?”

She frowned at him.“Yeah, a gigantic dog who bit her head off and spit it out again when he discovered he didn’t like the taste of human head after all.”

“That’s crazy,” Dooley said. “The Kenspeckles don’t have a giant dog.”

I stared at Dooley.“Is that what you think is crazy here? What about the idea that dogs bite people’s heads off?”

“Well, don’t they?” he asked.

“Of course they don’t! It’s a physical impossibility!”

“But what if they’re big enough? Like Cujo?”

“Cujo never bit anybody’s head off! No dog can bite someone’s head off!”

“Well, Brutus is convinced they can,” said Harriet. “He’s convinced the Kenspeckles have a pack of vicious dogs running around. He’s seen them on one of those Bravo shows. Huge and ferocious creatures. All the big-name celebrities keep them nowadays. To protect themselves from paparazzi and kidnappers and stalkers. He thinks one of the dogs went rogue. Got a taste for human blood and bit Shana’s head clean off. And now the Kenspeckles are trying to cover it up. They’re hiding the dog somewhere in this house. He thinks Kane knows where, and he’s trying to get him to give up thelocation.”

“To get him to roll over on his monster dog friend?” I asked.

She nodded, chewing her lip.“He says he needs to break Kane. Make him squeal on his canine brother. Says it’s the only way to get the truth.”

“But what about Clarice’s statement? What about the masked killer and the big-ass meat cleaver?” I asked, exasperated.

“Brutus says Clarice can’t be trusted. She’s nuts and will say whatever to get attention. And his meat. She’ll do anything for a slice of filet mignon.”

“Your boyfriend is crazy,” Dooley said. “Absolutely batshit crazy.”

Well, I wouldn’t have put it so strongly, but basically he was right.

“At least we don’t have to worry about Brutus getting in good with Odelia,” I said. “If he tries to sell her his mad dog theory she’ll just laugh.”

“Oh, cut it out, Max,” said Harriet, giving me an angry look.

“Cut out what? What are you talking about?”

“Cut out the bullying. You’ve been mean to Brutus from the start.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Me? Mean to him?”

“Yes, you are a mean cat and a bully. Can’t you see that Brutus wants to fit in? To be welcomed into the community? He’s doing his best and you keep pushing him away. I think it’s very selfish of you, Max. You too, Dooley.”

This was just crazy talk.“Look, he’s the one who started bossing us around from the moment he set foot in this town.”

“Can’t you see through that, Max? That’s just a pose. Deep down, Brutus is a gentle, sensitive soul. All he wants is to be loved and accepted the way he is.” She sighed as we all watched Brutus chasing Kane around the pool.

“Come back here, you little weasel!” he was shouting. “Wait till I get my claws on you, you stupid mutt!”

Harriet was right. A gentle and sensitive soul. No doubt about it.

More and more paparazzi were splashing in the pool, tripped up by Brutus and Kane, and had to be fished out by bodyguards. Who knew so many paps couldn’t swim? Brutus was doing the Kenspeckles a big favor.

“I don’t see it,” said Dooley. “I don’t see the sensitive side in Brutus.”

“Well, he’s got one,” Harriet snapped. “You’re not looking hard enough.”

Dooley opened his mouth to retort. When he caught Harriet’s eye he thought better of it and closed it again. There are some battles you can’t win.

“Brutus is the sweetest cat you can imagine,” she said. “A real gentlecat.”

“I’m going to cut you, you ugly mongrel!” the gentlecat was screaming. “I’m going to cut you up so bad even your own mother won’t recognize you!”

“The only reason he behaves like this is because…” She sighed, and fixed me with an accusatory look. “Because he wants to impress you, Max.”

“Impress me!” I cried.

“Of course. Why else do you think he keeps challenging you? Secretly Brutus looks up to you. You’re his hero. All he wants is to be like you.”

I shook my head.“This is just… I can’t even…”

“Look at yourself, Max. You’ve got it all! You’ve got the best human in Hampton Cove. You’ve got a great home. Great friends. You’re even an ace detective. You’ve got it all.” She gave me a pleading look. “Is it so hard to believe Brutus wants to be a part of that? That he wants to be your friend?”

“Yes, it’s very hard to believe,” Dooley said.

“Well, it’s the truth,” she snapped. “And if you can’t see that, then who’s the bully here?” She stalked away, tail high. We both stared after her.

“You don’t believe a word she said, do you?” Dooley asked. “All that talk about Brutus just wanting to be your friend? That’s just a bunch of hooey.”

“Of course I don’t,” I said. “She loves the cat. She’ll believe anything.”

We watched Harriet chasing Brutus chasing Kane for a while.

“Do you think this evil dog theory holds water, Max?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I believe Clarice. Whoever killed Shana was wearing a black robe and a mask, and whoever was beneath that robe definitely wasn’t a killer dog. Unless dogs can walk on their hind legs and handle a meat cleaver.” Before Dooley could reply, I quickly added, “Which they can’t.”

The Kenspeckles were also staring at the scene, commenting freely, while the cameraman filmed the whole thing. This was going to be the gag reel for their next show. Some comic relief after the horror of the murder.

But even as the circus was in full swing, I didn’t forget for one moment that one of these people was a killer. Was it Shayonne? Shalonda? Dion Dread? Damien LeWood? I saw that both Odelia and Chase were watching the foursome intently, and I knew they were wondering the same thing.

Outside, the bodyguards snatched up the last of the paparazzi, escorting them off the premises. Kane, desperate to escape Brutus, had thought of nothing better than to jump into the pool, right on top of the head of the head bodyguard, who was wrestling three paparazzi. Brutus was stumped. He wanted to get a hold of Kane, but he drew the line at jumping into the pool. Us cats don’t like to swim. It’s not that we can’t swim—that’s a common misconception. It’s just that we prefer not to. It’s all because of our furry coats. We swell up like a sponge. It just makes us look ridiculous.

So Brutus just sat there, staring daggers at Kane, while Kane sat on top of the bodyguard’s head, making faces at Brutus. Classic standoff.

“Well, looks like the show’s over,” said Dooley, sounding disappointed.

“Au contraire,” I said. “It’s just getting started.”

Chapter 10

The last of the paparazzi had been caught and thrown off the property, but not before Shayonne and Shalonda had hit their marks and struck their poses, giving them what they came for. You don’t get to be in the world’s top-rated reality show without giving back to the fans. Kane the dog had been fished from the pool, and it was time to finally sit down for the interview.

The sisters refused to be interviewed separately and Chase decided not to fight them on this. What he did fight them on was their expressed desire that the entire interview was filmed for their show. What was more, they wanted the murder investigation taped, Chase and Odelia included for this special.

They’d even get screen credit and SAG minimum, whatever that was.

Chase vehemently refused, and so did Odelia, though less vehemently. She wouldn’t mind being on national TV. Her mom would freak if she saw her daughter strutting her stuff amongst all these celebs. But Chase muttered something about making a mockery of the investigation and that was that.

“Not gonna happen,” were his exact words, and no matter how much the sisters insisted, even turning on the waterworks again, this time he stood his ground. He obviously had no aspirations to be a celebrity cop.

Shalonda tossed her long hair.“You know what we’ll do, Shayonne?”

“What?”

“We’ll shoot a confessional. Tell our viewers all about the investigation. They can’t stop us from doing that, can they?”

Both sisters gave Chase an inquisitive look, but he just shook his head.

The sisters had chosen the pergola for the interview. The wooden structure, covered with vines and honeysuckle, stood fifty yards from the house, at the bottom of the garden, providing a nice view of the Atlantic Ocean. Dappled sunlight slanted down through the rafters, and as far as Odelia could see there were no paparazzi in sight. What she did see was the cameraman sneaking around, trying to get the best view of the sisters.

She decided not to tell Chase. This was a fight they couldn’t win.

The Kenspeckles made themselves comfortable on the wicker furniture, making sure the camera caught them from their best angle. Even during a police interview they were concerned about how they looked on camera.

In a surprising shift of protocol, Chase had decided to allow Odelia to take the lead in the interview. Maybe he figured Shayonne and Shalonda would open up to her more than to him. More so because she didn’t look anything like a cop. In fact she might have featured on the show herself.

“Did Shana have any enemies?” she asked, opening the interview.

“Oh, no,” Shalonda said immediately. “Shana was the most beloved person on earth. Literally everyone adored her. I mean, literally every single person on earth loved Shana to bits. I’m not kidding. I know this for a fact.”

“Yeah, Shana was a sweetheart,” Shayonne agreed. “She had the biggest heart. You could never hope to have a sweeter sister than her.” A tear stole down her cheek, and Shalonda reached out a hand and gave hers a squeeze.

Faced with tragedy, the Kenspeckle sisters offered a united front. It was touching, Odelia thought. Until she saw movement from the corner of her eye, and noticed the camera recording every last second of the teary scene.

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to cause her harm?”

Shayonne hesitated.“Well, there was this one incident with one of her ex-boyfriends, Robin Masters. When Shana got engaged to Damien, he made a big scene. I mean, the guy completely lost it. Went absolutely ballistic.”

“Oh, that’s right. Wasn’t that in season ten? Or was it eleven? I forget.”

“It was so horrible,” said Shayonne. “Robin drove up to the house and threatened to torch the place. Camille—that’s our mother, Camille Kenspeckle—had to intervene and calm him down. The cops got involved, and Shana had to file a restraining order against the guy. I was terrified.”

“He wasn’t the only one. There have been others. Other ex-boyfriends. But they’re usually pretty amenable once they get their five minutes of fame.”

“You mean fifteen minutes of fame,” Odelia said.

“What’s that, honey?” asked Shalonda. “You have to speak up, for the—”

But before she could say‘microphone,’ Shayonne had squeezed her hand.

“The expression is fifteen minutes of fame, not five,” Odelia explained.

“Oh, but these guys only get five,” said Shalonda. “We’re the stars of the show. Bit players like Robin Masters don’t get to steal our limelights.”

“They sure don’t,” Shayonne agreed. “We worked too damn hard. No boyfriend gets first billing. Five minutes and that’s it. It’s all in the contract.”

“Does everybody sign a contract?” asked Odelia.

“Of course,” said Shayonne. “Girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives… Camille takes care of all of that. This is a business, honey. We need to protect the Kenspeckle brand. Nobody is going to come and mess with our brand.”

“And what is that brand, exactly?” Chase asked, unable to control himself.

“Beauty and grace,” said Shayonne instantly, as if she’d rehearsed the phrase, which she probably had.

“Wealth and power,” added Shalonda.

“Style and beauty.”

“I think you said beauty twice, honey,” said Shalonda.

“That’s because it’s important. The Kenspeckle brand is all about beauty.”

“And selfies,” Odelia said with a smile.

The two sisters laughed.“You said it, girl,” said Shalonda.

“Wasn’t Shana called the queen of selfies?” asked Odelia. “Maybe her habit of portraying her wealth and beauty made some people feel jealous?”

“Oh, but everybody was jealous of her,” Shayonne confirmed. “Shana was so gorgeous it was hard not to feel jealous. She was the center of attention wherever she went. I’ll admit even I felt jealous of her from time to time.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t walk into a room without getting everyone to turn.”

“Remember my wedding? How she upstaged me in front of everybody? That dress. That hair. She looked like she was the one getting married.”

“I hated her for that,” said Shalonda.

“Me too. Or that time when I was sixteen, going out on my first date and she was flirting with my date? The guy didn’t even look at me after that!”

“Shana was an attention whore, no doubt about it,” said Shalonda. “And we all loved her for it,” she quickly added when she saw Chase frown.

“She was the most popular star in the family, wasn’t she?” asked Odelia.

The two sisters stared at her, momentarily lost for words. Then Shayonne asked,“Who the hell told you that?”

“That’s not true,” Shalonda chimed in.

“We’re all stars. Just look at our contracts. We all get star credit.”

“There’s no denying Shana got the most attention,” said Chase. “She got the endorsement deals, the paid appearances… Even her app is a bestseller.”

Wow. Chase had obviously done his homework.

“Those are just rumors,” Shayonne said, sitting up.

“Filthy lies,” Shalonda chimed in, also sitting up.

“We all share equal billing on our show. There are no prima donnas.”

“Still,” Chase insisted. “You just said you hated your sister because she upstaged you, and tried to steal your boyfriends.”

“Oh, she did,” said Shayonne, nodding.

“She most definitely did,” Shalonda agreed.

“Which doesn’t mean we didn’t love her.”

“Oh, yeah. We loved her to pieces.”

“Tiny, little pieces,” said Shayonne, holding her nails millimeters apart.

“You told me that Shana was sleeping with your husband?” Odelia asked.

“You told her that?” asked Shalonda, turning to her sister. “What about putting up a united front for the outside world, like Camille told us to? Family first, Shayonne. Family always comes first.”

“This is a police investigation,” Chase reminded her. “You can speak freely. Nothing you say will go beyond Miss Poole and myself at this point.”

“All we want is to catch your sister’s killer,” Odelia assured them.

“Yes, I told her,” Shayonne said. “Because it’s true. Shana was sleeping with Dion. She told me so herself. She came clean to me last week.”

“I don’t believe this,” Shalonda said, shaking her head. Whether she didn’t believe that Shana had been sleeping with Dion or that her sister was confiding in the police wasn’t immediately clear. Odelia suspected the latter.

“Well, she was!” Shayonne exclaimed. “She finally confessed. Told me she couldn’t live with the lie anymore. She also told me she was done with Dion.”

“And how did you react?” asked Chase.

“I was stunned. Completely stunned. And then I dumped Dion’s ass.”

Odelia frowned.“So why is Dion still here?”

“Because Shana confessed to me off camera, and I broke up with Dion off camera. We needed to do it again, on camera, which is why we all flew out here, because this was going to be the highlight of the season. We were going to end on a big cliffhanger, with my relationship with Shana and my marriage in the balance.” She shook her head. “You obviously still have a lot to learn about TV, honey. This all happened already, and now we have to recreate it.”

“So Dion was only hanging around until you filmed the bit about the breakup?” asked Chase.

“Well, duh. We were going to milk this thing for all we could get.”

“What about Dion? How did he feel about this situation?” Odelia asked.

“Well, he’s not too happy,” said Shayonne. “He’s off the show, isn’t he?”

“You snooze, you lose,” said Shalonda.

“I don’t think that’s correct, honey,” said Shayonne. “More like, you cheat, you lose.”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it. I like mine better.”

“What it all comes down to, Detective,” said Shayonne, touching Chase’s knee, “is that when you cheat on a Kenspeckle you’re out on your ass.”

“Amen to that,” said Shalonda.

Odelia shared a glance with Chase. This was definitely motivation for murder. If Dion was going to get kicked off the show, he stood to lose a lot of money. He might have wanted to plot revenge against Shana. Maybe even hoped that the murder would sink the entire show.

“What about Damien?” asked Chase.

Shayonne swatted away a fly.“What about him?”

“Did he know about Shana and Dion?”

“Of course he did. We don’t keep secrets in this family. Damien knew all about his wife’s infidelities.”

“Infidelities?” asked Odelia. “You mean this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Nope,” said Shayonne. “Now don’t get me wrong. Shana was the sweetest person in the world.”

“So sweet.”

“And I loved her, like, a lot.”

“A whole lot.”

“But let’s not kid ourselves. She was a skank.”

“They didn’t get any skankier than Shana.”

“She never met a guy she didn’t want to sleep with and who didn’t want to sleep with her.” She shrugged. “That’s the way she was. Take it or leave it.”

“Damien knew that going in,” said Shalonda. “In fact he sleeps around just as much as she does. They have a, quote unquote, arrangement.”

“So he was fine with this Dion situation?” Odelia asked.

The two sisters shared a look.“Well, fine would be overstating it,” said Shayonne.

“Yeah, he and Dion got into a big fight about it the other night.”

“They knocked the shit out of each other and then bonded over a couple of beers and hung out at the pool all night. It was crazy.”

“Dion is crazy.”

“Hey. Who you calling crazy? That’s my husband you’re talking about.”

“Ex-husband,” Shalonda specified.

“He’s not my ex-husband. I haven’t divorced him yet.”

Shalonda stared at her sister.“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping him, are you? After what he did to you?”

“But I still love him, honey. And maybe now that Shana’s gone we can start over.”

“You’re officially crazy. That man never treated you right.”

“He has. And anyway, better to have a man than no man at all.”