Purrfect Obsession. Purrfect Betrayal. Purrfectly Clueless

“It is true, however, that most mammal murders involve infanticide—the killing of babies. In meerkat society it’s the dominant female who routinely murders the pups of the subordinate females in their own group. Humans are part of a small group of mammals—among them lions, wolves and spotted hyenas—that routinely murder the adults of their own species. And of course humans are very creative to find ways to kill each other. Lions or wolves or spotted hyenas will never use poison or guns or knives or whatever to kill other lions or wolves or spotted hyenas.”

“That’s fine, Dooley,” I muttered.

“You’re very smart, for a cat,” said Rita appreciatively.

“One of Gran’s soaps is on hiatus so I’ve been watching the Discovery Channel.”

“I can tell,” I said.

At any rate, we’d gotten what we’d come here to find. Now all we needed to do was find out if Wolf Langdon had a mole on his hand in the shape of an owl. If he had, Ringo had been lying to us when he said Wolf was standing right next to him when Dany was killed.

We thanked Rita profusely and I like to think that we left her with the impression that not all cats are vicious bird-eaters.

“I only wish more cats were like you!” she said. “Vegetarians, I mean.”

We took our leave, and as we walked away, Brutus said,“I hate broccoli. And quinoa.”

“And I hate lentils,” I said.

“I actually like tofu,” said Dooley. “I think I could get used to it.”

“It’s all matter of perspective,” I said with a grin.

Brutus didn’t even crack a smile.

Probably too soon.

Chapter 28

As she was driving home, Odelia got a message from her uncle.

‘If you’re going to inject yourself into this investigation, you might as well drop down to the station to watch the interview.’

She smiled, performed a quick U-turn and headed down to the station. She didn’t particularly enjoy police interviews, but she did want to see what Wolf had to say for himself. Even though her cats were pretty convinced the director had nothing to do with Dany’s murder, the presence of that yellow parka in his closet proved otherwise. As Chase had said, it was an open-and-shut case. One of those cases where the killer is so cocky he trips up even before the person he murdered has arrived at the morgue.

She parked in front of the station house and quickly hurried inside, not even bothering to lock up her car. The pickup was so old and decrepit no one in their right mind would steal it.

She arrived at the interview room at the back of the station, and when she entered found her uncle already standing at the two-way mirror.

He looked up when she entered.“I thought you’d want to see this.”

“Thanks, uncle,” she said, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I know it’s hopeless to try and keep you from putting your sleuth cap on, but you can’t blame me for trying,” he said in response. “Especially considering how much the victim resembled you.”

“Well, you were wrong about me being the killer’s target.”

“It would appear so,” he said cautiously.

She thought about Brutus almost being run over, but decided not to mention the fact. That was probably a coincidence. There was, after all, probably more than one person dressed in a yellow parka driving around Hampton Cove.

In the interview room, Chase and Wolf sat, the director uncharacteristically ill at ease. His hair was a mess, and so was his beard, and he was still dressed in his silk pajamas.

“I didn’t do it, detective!” he exclaimed. “You have to believe me! I liked that girl. She had a gift. Why would I kill a promising young talent like that!”

“I’ll tell you exactly why,” said Chase, who was his usual unruffled self. He was never better than when interviewing suspects and making them sweat. “You were having an affair with Dany Cooper, and when she pressured you into getting a divorce from your wife, you knew it was time to get rid of her.”

“That’s… crazy,” blustered Don. “Who told you that?”

“You told me yourself.” Chase placed Wolf’s own phone on the table and tapped it. “I’ve made a printout of your WhatsApp chats. Pretty hot stuff, Mr. Langdon.”

Wolf’s face turned white as a sheet. “I thought WhatsApp messages were automatically deleted?”

“That’s Snapchat. You should probably read up on your social media. Now do you still deny having an affair with Miss Cooper?”

He hung his head.“No, I don’t,” he said, now with a voice as if from the tomb. “We were having an affair. It’s true.” He looked up. “But I didn’t kill her.”

Chase took a stack of papers he’d brought into the interview room and began reading. “Wolfy, baby. Have you talked to your wife yet? Inquiring minds want to know. Smiley smiley smiley. When is the divorce planned? Heart heart heart. I think I can hear the wedding bells already. Kiss kiss kiss. Can’t wait to say I do, sweetboo. Cupid Cupid Cupid.”

“All right, all right, all right,” said Wolf. “Yes. I promised her I’d divorce Emily.”

“But you were never going to do that. Because your wife was your partner in Langdon Productions, and without her and her family’s money, you were sunk.”

“Who told you all this?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. You’re right. I couldn’t get a divorce. Not unless my next couple of projects all proved sure-fire hits. Emily had already told me she was sick and tired of throwing good money after bad. Called the production company a black hole. So it was do or die, and the Bard in the Park thing in the Hamptons was going to give me a lot of publicity and hopefully push my next Broadway show, which I’m hoping will put us in the black. And I promised Dany the main part.” He spread his arms. “So you see? I would never kill her. Shewas going to be my star.”

“So why didn’t you give her the starring role in Bard in the Park?”

“Like I said, I’m only doing these Bard in the Park shows for the visibility and the buzz. There’s no money in it. Plus, I didn’t want to show off Dany and risk her being wooed away by the competition when they saw how good she was. And she was awesome.”

Odelia frowned. So what did that make her? Less than awesome, apparently.

“You’re not making your case here, Wolf. You just admitted you couldn’t afford to get divorced. And that Dany was pressuring you. So why don’t you simply admit you killed her?”

“But I didn’t! I loved that kid. She was great fun to be around. And I’m the one who discovered her. This was just like that movie…” He snapped his fingers. “A Star Is Born!”

“InA Star Is Born the male commits suicide when the female’s success eclipses his own,” said Chase dryly.

“What I mean to say is, I discovered her. I was going to turn her into a star, and—”

“And then you were going to ride on the coattails of her success.”

“Exactly!” said Wolf without a trace of irony. “She was my ticket to the big time. If she became a star, I didn’t need Emily or her damn money. I could buy her out. Be my own man!” He tapped the table frantically. “So why would I kill Dany, huh? It makes no sense!”

Odelia turned to her uncle.“Max and Dooley talked to Wolf’s Chihuahua.”

Uncle Alec grinned.“Now there’s something you don’t hear every day.”

She ignored him.“The dog—who is called Ringo, by the way—said Wolf would never kill Dany. They had a good thing going, but also, Wolf was with Ringo when Dany was killed. He saw the killer, Alec. He saw the killer and it wasn’t Wolf Langdon.”

Uncle Alec fingered one of his chins.“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Ringo also said he didn’t get a good look at the killer’s face, but an owl did.”

Alec’s grin widened. “An owl.”

“An owl, yes. Sitting in a tree…” Hearing herself, she had to smile, too. It sounded pretty ridiculous. “Anyway, Max and Dooley are talking to this owl as we speak, so…”

Uncle Alec nodded.“You think we may have arrested the wrong guy.”

“Could be. Unless the dog is lying, but in my experience dogs rarely lie.”

That grin was back.

“Yes, I know how this sounds,” she said. “But you know me, uncle. I’ve solved cases you thought were unsolvable before.”

“I know you have. And I’ll be happy to hear what this… owl has to say. In the meantime Wolf Langdon is still my best suspect, and I’m keeping him right here.”

“The yellow parka.”

“The yellow parka—and his motive. Greed is always a great motive for murder, and he had a whopper of a motive, no matter what he’s saying about thisA Storm Is Born stuff.”

She didn’t bother to correct him. “Someone could have planted that parka.”

“Someone could have, but inmy experience that is rarely the case.”

“So what about the Chihuahua and the owl?”

He held up his hand.“I know your Dr. Dolittle qualities have been useful on more than one occasion, honey, but the statement of a dog and an owl is not something that will stand up in court, I’m afraid. A solid motive and physical evidence, on the other hand…”

“I understand,” she said.

“Besides. Just like humans sometimes make lousy witnesses, so can dogs. Or owls.”

She glanced back at Wolf, who was still trying to convince Chase of his innocence.

Looked like her career as an actress was finished before it even started.

Chapter 29

The next day, Tex was on his way to work when suddenly a flowerpot crashed down onto the pavement right in front of him. One fraction of a second later, and he’d have gotten it straight on the noggin. It was a heavy flowerpot, as flowerpots go, and would have crushed his skull and sent him to an early grave if the thing had hit its intended target.

Intended target?

Even while his heart was still beating a snare drum inside his chest, Tex wondered why the thought had occurred to him that this was no random flowerpot incident but a concerted effort to make him dead. In other words, an attempt on his life.

He glanced down at the flowerpot, which now rested beyond repair at his feet, sand and a wilted undefinable plant spilling out beyond the shards. Then he looked up to determine the source of the phenomenon. A windowsill on the third floor of an adjacent building was the likely resting place of the pot before it had decided to take the sudden leap into the unknown. And just as he looked, he thought he saw that very same window that was framed by that very same ledge, gently being closed by an unseen hand.

His face took on a more determined expression.“Hey!” he shouted, balling his fist at the now-closed window. “I saw you! Don’t think for a minute I didn’t see you! What’s the big idea, chucking flowerpots at innocent passersby?”

And in a sudden wave of indignation, he turned to the house whose window had been used for this dastardly murder attempt, and rattled its handle. Locked, of course. But no worries. The culprit who’d done this dastardly deed no doubt was still inside.

“Let’s see you get away with this,” Tex muttered, as he took out his phone. He called up his brother-in-law’s number and hit Connect. The moment Alec picked up, he bellowed, “Alec! Someone just tried to kill me! That’s right. And I’ve got the killer locked up in the house! He’s not getting away. You better do what it is you do—arrest him! Arrest him, man!”

Five minutes later, three police vehicles descended on the scene, sirens wailing, and six police officers exited and one ruddy-looking police chief. Alec was panting. An attack on his brother-in-law in his own town was not something that happened every day, nor was it something he was willing to overlook.

“Where is he?” he said between two gulping breaths as he came hurrying up. He dragged up his pants, which, in spite of his sturdy belt, always seemed to be sagging, and glanced up at the house Tex was pointing a rigid finger at.

“He’s still inside. I’m sure of it. I’ve been here all this time and he hasn’t come out.”

“What did he do? Take a shot at you?”

“Worse! He dropped a flowerpot on my head!”

Alec blinked.“A flowerpot?”

“A flowerpot!”

And to prove he wasn’t making this up, he pointed at the evidence.

Alec stared at the remnants of the flowerpot which now lay in ruins.

“So who was he?”

“Mh?”

“The guy who threw the pot at you?”

“I have no idea. He’s locked himself inside and he won’t come out. And don’t think I haven’t tried. I must have rung the bell a million times. I even pounded the door.”

Alec gestured to his troops.“Break down this door. And use extreme caution. There’s a killer inside.”

His officers wasted no time and had the door down within seconds, using a nifty device that looked like something the Assyrians would have used to attack an enemy city. It was called a battering ram, Alec said, which seemed appropriate. Tex wasn’t interested in the nomenclature or the technical details of the operation, though. All he wanted was to see justice done and this killer taken into custody so he could never flowerpotbomb anyone ever again.

Five minutes later, the police officers came walking out of the building. One after the other, they shook their heads.

“No one?” asked Tex, incredulous.

“Not a single person inside,” said the last officer to exit the house. “And we searched the place top to bottom. There was a window open on the second floor, though, so the culprit may have escaped through there. It’s only a six foot drop onto the roof of a shack of some kind, and we found several footprints right next to it.”

“Make sure you photograph those prints,” Alec ordered.

“Yes, sir,” said the cop, and returned into the house to carry out the boss’s orders.

Alec scratched his head.“One question, Tex.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you sure you saw someone chuck this pot at you?”

“Of course I’m sure! I saw the window close myself.”

“So can you describe this flowerpot chucker to me?”

“Eh?”

“What did he look like?” He’d taken out his little notebook and was hovering pencil over paper, ready to take down Tex’s detailed description.

“Well, I didn’t see his face, of course. By the time I looked up, he was gone.”

Alec frowned.“You didn’t see his face.”

“Of course not. I was too busy reeling from the shock. Have you ever had a flowerpot aimed at your head? No? Then you have no idea how terrible it feels. Your heart races, you see your whole life flash by in an instant, your blood pressure spikes…” Speaking of blood pressure, he now pressed his index finger against his jugular and checked his watch.

Alec used his pencil to scratch his scalp.“So how do know it was a he?”

“Eh?” Blood pressure seemed normal. Under the circumstances, of course.

“How do you know—”

“I heard you the first time. Well, why wouldn’t it be a he? I can’t imagine a woman throwing a flowerpot at an innocent passerby. Men are more prone to violence. Everybody knows that. And don’t you remember how Brutus almost got run over by that man in the yellow parka yesterday? Obviously someone is targeting this family, Alec, and obviously this person is a man. The same man who killed that poor girl that looked so much like Odelia.”

“I don’t—”

Tex did a double take.“Do you think he may have made a mistake? That he wanted to kill Odelia but he killed this Dany Cooper girl instead?”

“I don’t think—”

He tapped Alec’s chest sharply. “That means Odelia might still be in danger, Alec! You must send a unit round to her house at once. On the double!”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that, Tex.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we caught Dany Cooper’s killer last night. He’s in custody and he won’t kill again.”

This had Tex stumped for a moment. He was, after all, a doctor, not a cop, and these glimpses into the inner workings of a police department sometimes confused him. Then something occurred to him. He tapped Alec’s chest again, making the other man wince. “Have you considered that you may have arrested the wrong man?”

“The wrong man?”

“Of course! If the killer is in custody, how do you explain him chucking flowerpots at me?!”

Chapter 30

Gran was on her way to work when she noticed that her son-in-law and a whole bunch of cops stood gabbing away across the street. She liked to leave a few minutes after Tex, because she didn’t want him to think of her as a mere employee doing his bidding. She might have accepted to work at his doctor’s office as a favor to Tex, but that didn’t mean she was his underling. She was her own person and not a flunky to be ordered around by Tex.

It had always been Vesta’s opinion that a son-in-law should be kept on a short leash, and a very short one at that. So when she saw Tex having a nice chat with Alec while they should be working, she didn’t even bother to join them. If Tex wanted to spend his time chatting instead of putting in the hours he owed his patients, that was his business. She would make sure she showed up first, and tell the patients the doctor had been delayed.

Or she could put in a quick stop at the deli and pick up some of that strawberry cream chocolate she liked so much. Or maybe she’d get the caramel cream one. And as she pondered this all-important decision, she suddenly stepped on a roller skate, which, true to form, slipped from under her and she fell, hard, on the pavement. And just as she did, she caught a glimpse of something yellow streak past in the front yard of the adjacent house.

Immediately, she started screaming bloody murder. Moments later, Tex, Alec and the entirety of the Hampton Cove Police Department came hopping to.

“Ma!” Alec cried, taking her left arm. “Are you all right?”

“What happened?” asked Tex, grabbing her right arm. Together, they hoisted her up.

“Someone put that skate there on purpose!” she exclaimed, pointing at the offending skate.

“Are you sure?” asked Alec.

“Of course I’m sure. What kind of question is that! I saw him! He was dressed in yellow and he ran that way.” When no one moved, she yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Go after him!”

And after him they went, all cops except for Alec and Tex, who wasn’t a cop but a doctor, and was now examining her for possible fractures.

She yanked her arm from his grasp.“Oh, I’m all right. It takes more than a nasty killer to get the better of me.”

“So you saw him too, huh?” said Tex, who looked shaken.

It was too much to say that her son-in-law’s sudden concern touched Gran’s heart, such as it was, but it did give her a twinge of satisfaction. She’d obviously trained Tex well, for him to suddenly display these signs of affection towards his sweet old mother-in-law.

“Yeah, I saw him. Dressed in yellow. A real fiend, to leave a skate like that. He must have known I’d trip over it and hoped I’d break my neck, being the old lady that I am. Old ladies easily break their necks, you see, on account of the fact that their bones are brittle and stuff. Not my bones, though. He hadn’t counted on that, the piece of skunk that he is.”

Alec was studying the skate.“Are you sure it wasn’t just kids that left this thing?”

“Of course I’m sure! Odelia told me about the killer dressed in yellow who killed her lookalike. Then Tex saves poor Brutus from the same killer. And now the killer tried to kill me! It’s an outrage he’s still running around free! What the heck do I pay taxes for?”

“You don’t pay taxes, Ma,” said Alec, the wise-ass. “You’re retired.”

“I’m a working woman. Of course I pay taxes!”

“You’re a volunteer. I don’t pay you,” said Tex.

“What?! I work for free?! That’s an outrage! I’m going to the union, you cheapskate!”

“I pay you a little something under the table.” He made a weird move with his hand, as if scooping up a pancake. “Get it? Under the table? Besides, I give you room and board.”

“I get that you’re exploiting a poor old lady, you robber baron. Wait till the union is through with you. You’ll be happy if they leave you so much as a cardboard box to sleep in.”

“Tex thinks he was attacked, too,” said Alec, returning to the point.

“I don’tthink I was attacked. Iwas attacked. By the same killer who attacked Vesta.”

“See?” said Gran. “Even Tex was attacked, and he’s probably Odelia’s least favorite family member.”

Tex stared at her.“Come again?”

“Isn’t it obvious? This killer is targeting the people Odelia cares about the most. He attacked the girl, the actress, to make sure he got Odelia’s attention, then he attacked Brutus—probably because Max wasn’t available—and now he attacked me, the favorite. Next he’ll attack Marge, and he was going to keep you for last, Tex. My best guess is that he probably saw you passing by and figured why the hell not strike while the flowerpot is hot?”

Alec and Tex exchanged a glance.“Marge!” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

Alec searched around for his officers and cursed under his breath. They were all gone, of course, having followed his orders to track down Vesta’s roller skate killer.

“You should really discipline your people, Alec,” said Gran. “You can’t just let them wander off like that when you need them the most.”

But Alec was already running away, along with Tex, in the direction of the library, Marge’s place of employment.

“Nice,” Gran grumbled. “Talk about victim assistance. Leaving a poor old lady to deal with the trauma of her near-death experience all by herself.” But then the significance of her own words came home to her, and she muttered, “Marge. Oh, dammit.” And as fast as her sticks for legs could carry her, she was off in the direction of the library, too.

Chapter 31

Marge was stocking Danielle Steel books, enjoying these rare moments of quiet before the library opened. She loved her job, and had been a big library fan even as a child, finding herself here almost daily. Her folks used to drop her and Alec off at the library when they went into town to shop, and little Marge found plenty of books to keep her busy until their return. Alec had a tougher time finding something to occupy his time. He’d never been a big reader, and even now preferred watching ESPN to picking up something to read.

To work in the place that had offered Marge so many fun memories was a dream come true. And even though the library was small—basically a one-woman operation—she didn’t mind. She had plenty of opportunities to socialize as she knew pretty much every single person who came into the library. As a long-time resident of Hampton Cove she knew everyone in town, and never stinted for conversation with her steady set of regulars.

The first people through the door every morning were what she called her old-timers, who were already waiting before she opened the doors, and who headed straight for the reading room, where all the important national and local newspapers and magazines were stocked. The second most favorite station was the bank of internet computers, where those who didn’t have internet at home came to check their email or surf the web.

Marge had taken a crash course in computers and the Internet just to handle all the requests from people not habituated to working with these machines. She sometimes joked she was part IT person, part psychologist, and part literary critic, as people relied on her to advise them on what to take home as reading material.

And since she knew her customers, she unfailingly picked the right book for them.

She checked her watch. Ten to nine. Time to open her up.

She liked to open early, and didn’t mind if she closed late. It wasn’t as if she was running an army barracks. This was Hampton Cove, and she ran a pretty relaxed ship.

Speaking of ships, she decided to quickly check the pirate ship that was the hallmark of the kids’ section. The boat, which was a reading space made up to look like an actual pirate ship, was very popular with the younger readers. Marge had placed cushions on the seats, and there were plenty of nooks and crannies where kids could curl up with a book, just the way she herself had done when she was their age.

And she was just fluffing up one of the pillows when suddenly there was a creaking sound just over her head. When she looked up, she detected movement where no movement should have been. She jumped clear of the ship just in time before she was crushed by whatever had come loose. And as she lay there, a little dazed, she saw that it was the ship’s mast, which had come crashing down. If she hadn’t had the reflexes to jump when she had, she would have been seriously injured or worse. That mast was pretty heavy.

From inside the library, there was a loud commotion. She pushed herself to her feet and staggered to the main part of the library. When she saw that her brother Alec was pounding on the door, along with Tex, her husband, fear suddenly gripped her heart. She hurried over, her cheeks flushed, and turned the key in the lock as fast as she could. She yanked open the door and cried,“Odelia! Did something happen to Odelia?!”

“Odelia is fine,” said Alec, instantly understanding her fear. He put his hand on her arm. “How about you? Are you all right?”

“Well, something did just almost fall on top of me, but apart from that I’m fine. Why? What’s going on?”

Tex fixed her with an intent look.“Did you see a man with a yellow parka?”

She shook her head.“No. It’s just me in here. Why? Did something happen?” She remembered the man with the yellow parka being mentioned in that horrible murder of that girl Odelia worked with, as well as in connection to the man who almost ran over Brutus.

Just then, Vesta came running up, panting like a horse after the Preakness Stakes.

“Marge! Thank God! It’s the man in the yellow parka! He’s coming for us! He tried to kill me!”

“And me,” said Tex.

“You said something fell on top of you,” said Alec, looking grim. “Can you show me?”

She led them to the back, and when Mom and Tex saw the wreckage, they both gasped. Alec’s frown deepened, as he crouched down with some effort to study the wreckage. Finally he looked up. “I’m not an expert but it looks like this has been tampered with.”

“What do you mean?” asked Marge, horrified.

He pointed to the mast.“This has been sawn clear through.”

“Oh, my God,” said Marge. “The children. Someone could have gotten killed!”

“You almost got killed,” said Tex, and drew her in for a bracing hug.

“We’re under attack,” said Gran seriously. “We have to warn Odelia. She needs police protection.” She looked at Alec. “We all do.”

Chapter 32

Odelia had gotten up late. By the time she opened her eyes, Chase had already left for work. She groaned. She must have forgotten to set her alarm last night. Then again, it had been pretty late, so the extra sleep had been welcome.

At her feet, her cats were dozing, or at least Max and Dooley were. Of Brutus, there was no trace, and neither of Harriet.

She stretched and yawned. Time to get up and start a new day.

She smiled to herself as she recalled her dream. Chase had finally taken her out on a date. It was a running joke between them that every time they arranged to go out for dinner and a movie, something happened to make sure they didn’t get to the end of their date.

That was the problem when a cop and a reporter dated: some crisis always cropped up.

She didn’t mind. At least in her dream they’d gone to see the movie and had actually managed to watch it until the end. It was a Nancy Meyers movie, not exactly the kind of movie Chase would like, which also showed her it had been a dream, and not a memory.

Then another memory stirred: Max telling her about their meeting with the owl, and the owl telling them about the killer’s birthmark. But since she vividly remembered Wolf Langdon having a birthmark on his right hand, that had sealed the deal for her.

Ringo had been mistaken: his master hadn’t been right next to him. His master had been murdering Dany Cooper, and either Ringo hadn’t recognized Wolf from behind, or he’d purposely lied to protect him.

Which wasn’t a big surprise. Pets would often do whatever they could to protect their humans. She knew Max would do anything for her, and so would Dooley.

So the case was closed, and all that remained was to write a front-page article detailing the nocturnal bust, and interview the people involved. She hoped her uncle would help her get access to Wolf so she could interview him in prison. Maybe to her he’d finally admit what he’d done, and they could put this whole terrible episode behind them.

Max opened his eyes and yawned, which triggered another bout of yawns from her and Dooley, who’d also woken up.

“Where is Chase?” asked Max.

She smiled. It was adorable how quickly her cats had warmed to her boyfriend.

“Gone to work. Where are Brutus and Harriet?”

“No idea. Brutus was with us when we came home last night, but of Harriet no trace.”

“She said she needed to get some perspective,” said Dooley. “I don’t know what perspective is, but it sure seems to take her a long time to find it.”

“Perspective is a state of mind,” Odelia explained, throwing off the covers and slipping her feet into her Hello Kitty slippers.

“A state of mind?”

“Harriet probably meant she wants to sort out some stuff in her life.” Perhaps the Brutus thing, Odelia thought. She hoped they would be able to settle in a new amicable relationship. Otherwise it would be very unpleasant for the others if two cats kept on fighting and bickering. If worse came to worst, she’d have to have a talk with Harriet and Brutus herself. Clear the air. Play cat therapist.

She walked over to the window and yanked the curtains wide to let the sun stream in. From her window she had a great view of the backyards of all the neighboring houses. Nearby was a middle school, and she could hear the kids playing the moment she cracked open the window. A church spire gleamed in the distance, and she took a deep breath. A new day, and a fresh beginning. And she was just running a few scenarios through her mind on how to arrange her day, when suddenly her phone started buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing some more. She frowned as she picked it up. Messages from her uncle, her mother, her dad, and her grandmother rolled across the screen, one after the other.

‘Where are you?’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Answer me!’

What was going on?

She picked up the phone and called up her mom’s number and was just about to hit Connect when she slipped over the bedside rug and went down hard, hitting her head against the bed as she did. The last thing she remembered was Max, yelling, “Odeliaiaaaah!”

And then the world went dark.

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It was by far the scariest thing I’d ever encountered. One minute I was chatting happily with my human, the next she went down and was gone. The phone slipped from her hand, bounced three times on the hardwood floor, and then kept sliding across the floor, buzzing all the while with incoming messages.

Both Dooley and I gathered around Odelia, and I watched in horror as a trickle of blood seeped from her temple.

“Is she dead?” asked Dooley in a choked voice.

“I don’t know! What do we do?”

“We have to wake her up,” said Dooley. “Make sure she stays awake. If she closes her eyes, she’s a goner.”

“Her eyes are closed already!” Nevertheless, I pawed her face. “Odelia, wake up,” I said urgently. “Odelia! Can you hear me?!”

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

I lifted an eyelid, but all I found was a deadish-looking eye staring back at me.

“I think she’s dead,” I said, and stifled a panicky sob.

“We have to do what humans do,” said Dooley. “Call 911.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?!”

We both stared at Odelia’s phone, which was still buzzing away.

‘How hard can it be?” said Dooley. “It’s a touchscreen. So let’s touch it.”

We moved over to the phone and stared at the thing. Then I gathered my courage and flicked it to life. Messages flashed across the screen. I ignored them. Instead, I called up the phone app, then tapped 911 and hit the Connect button.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now you tell them Odelia may be dead or dying and to get here immediately!”

A woman’s voice intoned, “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

I yelled, in case she couldn’t hear me, “You have to come quick. Odelia has bumped her head and she’s not responding! There’s also blood!”

“Sir or ma’am, I can’t hear a thing on account of the fact that your cat is meowing. Please remove your animal and tell me what your emergency is.”

“It’s Odelia!” I tried again. “Send an ambulance! Quick!”

“I have to advise you once again to remove your cat. I can’t hear a thing with all the meowing.”

“Help!” Dooley cried. “Help!”

“I can’t believe this,” the woman said, sounding annoyed, and just hung up!

“I don’t think she understood us,” said Dooley.

“I think you’re right,” I said.

There was only one thing we could do, and that was to get help.

So we both ran from the room and down the stairs, then out through the cat flap and into the backyard. First destination: Marge. She wasn’t home, of course, having gone to the library. So we ran out into the street, on our way to the library. Marge would understand. She would call 911 and tell that silly woman that there was an emergency.

We hadn’t even run a hundred yards when a strange sight greeted our eyes: Uncle Alec, Tex, Marge and Gran all came huffing and puffing around the corner, as if they’d just run a marathon. When they saw us, they all started talking at the same time, and so did Dooley and I.

Finally, I managed to shout,“It’s Odelia! She took a nasty fall and she looks dead!”

That urged them into action, and soon they were galloping towards the house.

“It’s the man in the yellow parka,” Gran huffed as she passed us. “He’s done it again!”

I hadn’t seen any man in a yellow parka. Just Odelia slipping on the rug. But Gran seemed sure of herself, and there was no time to argue, so I kept my mouth shut.

At the house, they all stomped up the stairs, and so did we.

Tex sank down on his knees next to his daughter, pressed his fingers into her neck and quickly said, his voice quaking with emotion,“She’s alive. She’s alive!”

They all laughed with relief, and so did Dooley and I. Funny how your life can change in the blink of an eye, and how a few words can bring you from the depths of despair back to the surface.

“She just had a nasty bump,” Tex said, examining her further. “We need to get her to a hospital, though, just in case. She might have a concussion.”

Soon the humans in the room took control of the situation, an ambulance was called in, and moments later a car screeched to a stop in front of the house, and another heavy body came stomping up the stairs. It was Chase. The moment he saw an inert and pale Odelia, he bellowed,“Odelia, no!”

“She’s fine,” said Tex, putting a hand on the cop’s arm. “She slipped and fell but she’ll be fine. I’ll stake my reputation on it.”

Chase sank down on the floor next to Odelia and took her hand. He now looked as pale as she did, and I wondered why that was. Low blood pressure, maybe. Or blood sugar? Someone should probably have offered him candy. He looked like he was about to faint.

The sound of an ambulance reached my finely tuned ears, and moments later the humans picked up the sound, too, for they all looked very much relieved.

Then Gran turned to me and Dooley.“There’s one thing I need to know from you guys,” she said sternly. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”

I saw how Chase was watching on, a puzzled look on his face.

“Was the man in yellow involved in this ‘accident?’” She used her fingers to make air quotes.

“There was no man in yellow,” I said.

“There was a yellow carpet, though,” said Dooley. “It made Odelia slip and fall.”

Gran narrowed her eyes at us.“You’re sure about that?”

We both nodded.

“Huh,” she said, as if she hadn’t expected that. “How weird is that?”

Chase shook his head. Luckily Gran has a reputation for being slightly unhinged, so he probably didn’t think much of her talking to us. Besides, he had other things to deal with, now that the paramedics came galloping up the stairs, a stretcher dangling between them. They quickly scooped Odelia up, then carried her down the stairs, with some grunts and groans. And as we watched on, she was loaded into the waiting ambulance, Marge and Tex joining them while Chase jumped into his pickup and took off after the ambulance.

“What a morning,” said Alec once they were gone. “What. A. Morning.”

“You can say that again,” I said, even though Alec couldn’t understand.

Chapter 33

Brutus had heard the commotion, but he’d opted not to get involved. He had enough problems of his own to contend with to get mixed up in the ongoing human drama that seemed to be an important part of life at the Pooles. He was sitting in one of his favorite spots in the world: the rosebushes at the back of Odelia’s backyard. It washere that he and Harriet had always used to sit. Here that they’d spent some of the best moments in their love affair, and it was here that Brutus decided to come to cherish those sweet memories.

Also, he’d had three brushes with death already, and wasn’t looking for a fourth.

So no more ponds for him, or high places where all he could do was stumble off and hope there was someone to break his fall. This time he was going to stay in his beloved rosebushes and dream of his beloved Harriet.

And as he dreamed, he thought he could almost hear her voice. He’d closed his eyes and imagined things could go back to the way they were before the incident. And as he thought about Darlene, he suddenly had a sinking feeling.

And then he realized that he was actually sinking. For real.

He opened his eyes and realized the ground was swallowing him up!

He was sinking faster and faster. Nearby, he thought he could hear Harriet shouting,“Brutus!” But that was just his imagination, of course. Why would Harriet be shouting his name like that? Not in anger, as she had for the past two days, but in anguish, almost as if she were watching him sinking deeper and deeper.

And even as the ground kept swallowing him up, he thought that this was probably the way it had to be. Life seemed adamant on casting him into these dangerous situations, so maybe this was the punishment he deserved.

“Brutus!” Harriet shouted.

This time it sounded even closer.

“Hold on! I’m going to try something!”

“Harriet? Is that you?”

But it couldn’t be. She wasn’t talking to him.

“Don’t give up, Brutus!”

“Is that really you?”

The muddy muck he was sinking into was up to his chest now, and he was starting to make attempts to keep on floating. It was hard going, though, as the crud seemed to suck him down like quicksand. Practically his whole body was now caught in the sticky stuff.

“Watch out!” Harriet shouted.

Suddenly he felt something bubbling underneath his butt. And then he was flying, a powerful stream of water propelling him into the air. He flew up and away, and finally landed on the lawn, rain spraying him. Only it wasn’t rain, as there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. But water was still raining down on him. And then he saw what was going on: Harriet had opened the sprinklers, a part of which was installed in the rosebushes. She must have opened them all the way, for they’d propelled him right out of that puddlehe was caught in.

He blinked as water soaked him. And then suddenly Harriet rose into his field of vision. She looked at him with such an expression of concern he didn’t mind getting wet.

“Are you all right, snookums?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You saved me.”

“I realized something last night, snuggle pooh,” she said softly.

“What’s that?”

“That I love you too much to let this thing between us be over.”

“Oh, Harriet,” he said, a catch in his voice. “I’ve been such a fool. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I talked to Darlene. Last night in the park? She told me the truth. That you were a real gentlecat. And that you were never anywhere near her butt.”

“She said that?”

“Not willingly. I may have mentioned slashing her throat.”

He laughed.“Oh, honey muffin.”

“Oh, love bug.”

“You saved me!”

“That’s something else I realized. Ever since we broke up you keep getting yourself into these dangerous situations. At this rate you’re going to run out of your nine lives.”

“I know. I think I’m at my sixth or my seventh.”

“You need me, buttercup.”

“I do need you.”

“Without me you’re going to fall from a cliff and there won’t be a fat man to cushion your fall.”

“Or I’ll stumble into a duck pond and there won’t be Chase to save me.”

“Or you’ll be swallowed up by a sinkhole and I won’t be there to turn on the sprinklers.”

They gazed softly into each other’s eyes, and gently rubbed noses.

“It’s almost like Jack and Rose onTitanic,” Harriet giggled. “With all this water?”

“Only I have no intention of crawling off that raft,” said Brutus.

“There was plenty of space on that raft for Jack!” Harriet cried.

“Right?”

They were quiet, and as Harriet lay down next to him, they both enjoyed this rare summer shower. And the pleasure of each other’s company.

“A sinkhole,” muttered Brutus. “In the rosebushes? How is that even possible?”

“I know, right?”

They gazed at each other.“I do need you, Harriet.”

“And don’t you ever forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, sugar puff.”

“Oh, cuppy cake.”

“Oh, love angel.”

“Oh, wuggle bear.”

“Ugh,” a voice softly pronounced nearby.

Brutus recognized it as Dooley’s, and both he and Harriet laughed.

Chapter 34

Alec was so nice to take us to the hospital: Me and Dooley, and a waterlogged Brutus and Harriet, who, for some reason, had turned on the sprinklers in the backyard and had been enjoying a rain shower. At least they’d reconciled, and were suddenly all lovey-dovey again. So much so it was giving me a pain in the butt. Maybe that was the reason they fought in the first place, I suddenly realized: to enjoy that sweet reconciliation afterward.

“Now, I’m going to have to smuggle you into Odelia’s room,” Alec warned. “I don’t think they like it when cats come to visit, so you guys will have to be extra-quiet, all right?”

“All right, Uncle Alec,” we all sang in unison, even though he couldn’t understand.

He smiled.“You guys are the best.”

He’d arrived at the hospital and tucked us in two big, bulky plastic shopping bags. I hate being tucked into bags, but I was willing to make the sacrifice for Odelia’s sake.

“What’s going on with Harriet and Brutus?” I asked Dooley as we bumped up against each other while Uncle Alec carried us into the hospital. The police chief was panting. Hard. Apparently four cats are a lot of weight to carry.

“I think they finally got over the whole Darlene thing,” I said.

“Oh, so Harriet finally believes the perspective story?”

“It’s not a story. There was a matter of perspective. I really believe Brutus’s nose wasn’t anywhere near Darlene’s butt. Though from where I stood it definitely looked like it was.”

“From where I was standing it looked as if his nose was up her tail,” said Dooley, “but then my legs are shorter than yours.”

“See? Brutus was right. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

This reminded me of the murder case Odelia and Chase had successfully solved. Ringo had claimed his master was right next to him when Dany was killed, but was he? Maybe he’d thought he was, but just like with Darlene, it was a matter of perspective.

But then we were set down on the floor, the bag was zipped open, and we hopped out of the bag and found ourselves in a hospital room. At least it smelled like one. Phew.

Uncle Alec picked me up first and deposited me on Odelia’s bed, then did the same with the others. Odelia looked pale but alive, and she smiled weakly at the four of us.

“Hey, there, you guys. What happened, huh?”

“You conked your head on the bed,” I said. “And scared the living crap out of us.”

“I scared the living crap out of myself,” she said.

I suddenly noticed we weren’t alone in the room: Marge, Gran, Tex and Chase were all seated around Odelia’s sickbed. Chase was staring at me intently, and I realized he probably figured this whole talking cats thing was really weird. Like, really, really weird.

“You better don’t talk to Max too much, honey,” said Marge. “You should rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” said Odelia, then realized her words could be interpreted as a little macabre, and corrected herself. “I’ll sleep when you guys have left, I mean.”

“The doctor is keeping her overnight,” Marge explained for our sake. “He says she has a slight concussion.”

“Nothing on the MRI, though,” said Gran. “Which is a good thing,” she added.

“Right,” I said.

“I know what an MRI is,” said Dooley. “I watchGeneral Hospital, remember?”

“Of course you do,” said Gran with a laugh.

They all laughed, except Tex and Chase and Alec, who weren’t in on the joke.

“Dooley says he watchesGeneral Hospital all the time,” Marge translated for the sake of the others. When Chase stared at her, she realized her mistake, and quickly shut up.

Too late, though, for Chase asked,“What’s going on here?”

Marge said, a little uncertainly,“Oh, nothing. Just messing around. We like to pretend we can talk to our cats. Isn’t that right, Mom?”

“Just a little game we play from time to time,” said Gran. “And of course those little furballs are big talkers and talk right back at us—isn’t that right, Maxie?”

She tickled my ear and I said,“I think you’re in big trouble now, Gran.”

“No, I’m not.”

Chase was frowning, but didn’t say anything.

“So what’s all this about you guys being attacked by the man in the yellow parka?” asked Odelia, a little hoarsely.

“Not now, honey,” said Marge. “You have to rest. In fact we should probably leave so you can get some more sleep.”

“Don’t leave. Just tell me what happened.”

“A flowerpot was thrown at me,” said Tex, his voice quaking with indignation. “Can you imagine? Someone actually tried to kill me with a flowerpot. I’m so upset right now.”

“And I slipped on a roller skate,” said Gran. “And I saw the guy who planted that skate. He was dressed in yellow—clearly the man in the yellow parka is working overtime.”

“And a piece of the pirate ship almost dropped on me,” said Marge.

“I checked the mast. It looks like it’s been tampered with,” said Uncle Alec gravely.

“So it’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Gran. “Someone is targeting this family, and they’re doing everything they can to murder us and make it look like a string of accidents.”

“Remember how they tried to run over Brutus?” Tex reminded the others.

“I don’t know about this, you guys,” said Odelia, her eyelids slowly closing. “It all seems far-fetched to me. Besides,” she added, making an ultimate effort to open her eyes and look at her uncle Alec, “you have the man in the yellow parka locked up, haven’t you?”

“I have,” Alec confirmed.

“So the case is closed. End of story.”

“He’s still out there,” Gran insisted. “And he’s targeting us.”

“Wolf Langdon has a mole on his hand,” said Odelia, her eyes closing again. “Ringo says the man who killed Dany had a mole in the shape of an owl on his hand. Case… closed.”

And so were her eyes. And this time she’d fallen asleep.

“Who is Ringo?” asked Chase in a low voice.

Uncle Alec waved his hand.“Just a witness who’s come forward.”

Chase looked taken aback.“What witness? I don’t know anything about a new witness, and I’m supposed to be in charge of this investigation.”

Alec shrugged.“Ask Odelia.”

Chase looked at Odelia and sighed.“Thank God her cats were home. I can’t imagine her lying there all alone.”

One by one, Odelia’s family members got up and left the room, to allow her some peace and quiet. Knowing them, they’d all stay right there, not leaving her side until she was well enough to return home.

And the same went for me, Dooley, Brutus and Harriet.

Only we had the luxury of being able to sleep at the foot of her bed.

At least until the nurse came in and ushered us off the bed and onto a couch in the corner.“Cats don’t belong in hospitals,” she muttered darkly, but allowed us to stay anyway.

Chapter 35

In the hallway, Gran confronted Chase and her son.“I don’t get it. You people are supposed to protect us. You’re cops, for crying out loud. Your family is being targeted and you do nothing?”

“We’ve arrested the man in the yellow parka,” said Alec, but he blinked under Gran’s intense scrutiny.

“That just goes to show you arrested the wrong man. Cause the man in the yellow parka is still out there, and he’s trying to kill us all. First Tex, then me and Marge. And it wouldn’t surprise me if this man in the yellow parka didn’t sneak into Odelia’s room last night and planted that rug for her to slip on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Alec.

“Odelia never trips and falls. And now she does? Just when the rest of this family is attacked? I don’t think so.” She poked a hole in Chase’s chest. “And where were you when all this was going down, sonny boy?”

“I, um, was at the station interrogating Wolf Langdon, ma’am,” said Chase. At least he didn’t avert his eyes like Alec, who’d gone all weaselly under Gran’s furious glances.

“Well, you better interrogate him again, cause as far as I’m concerned, he’s probably the leader of a gang of yellow parka men, operating all across town, and trying to get this family to die!”

She stalked off, feeling she’d said her piece and now it was up to the law enforcement people to do their jobs for a change.

Marge and Tex were seated in the waiting area, Marge nursing a cup of coffee, while Tex was checking something on his phone.

“My patients will need a replacement doctor while I’m in here,” he explained when Gran sat down. “I’ve arranged for Dr. R?bler-Koss to take my place for the moment.”

“R?bler-Koss? Isn’t she specialized in palliative care?”

He shrugged.“She’s a perfectly capable physician and she’s stood in for me before.” He placed the phone in his lap and rubbed his eyes. “Poor Odelia. I can’t stop thinking about how if we’d been there half an hour later she might have suffered even worse.”

“I just told off Alec and Chase. It doesn’t do for them to twiddle their thumbs down at the police station while all of us are being hunted down by this bunch of maniacs!”

“Bunch of maniacs?” asked Marge. “You think there’s more than one?”

“Of course! Just think, honey. He was in the house across the street when Tex was attacked with a highly lethal projectile.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call a flowerpot a lethal projectile,” Tex protested.

“I would. Now shut up and listen to your mother-in-law for a change. Meanwhile, he was preparing a trap across the street. How is that possible? How can one man be in two places at the same time? Answer: he can’t. Which means there’s more than one attacker.” She narrowed her eyes. “And the more I think about this, the more I’m convinced there’s probably three or four, and that doesn’t even include the ringleader, who’s in prison right now. Though ringleader is probably a big word. If he allowed himself to be caught that easily, he’s probably an amateur. The ringleader is probably the one who came for Odelia.”

“It was a rug, Mom,” said Marge. “Anyone can trip over a rug.”

“Not Odelia,” she said decidedly. “Odelia never trips over any rugs. No, that rug was definitely tampered with. So what we need is CSI. We need Gil Grissom and we need him now. Only Gil Grissom can figure out how they managed to tamper with that rug. Plus, Gil Grissom can probably lift fingerprints and DNA and whatnot from that rug, identifying the bastard who tried to kill our Odelia.”

“I don’t think even Gil Grissom could find fingerprints on an IKEA rug,” said Tex, and Gran thought she detected a note of sarcasm in his voice.

She did not respond well to sarcasm, so she snapped,“Less lip from you, and more cooperation, Captain Underpants.”

Tex frowned, and glanced down to where Gran was pointedly looking. Indeed: his underpants were showing just above the waistline of his beige slacks.“Must have snapped my belt when I jumped away from that flowerpot,” he muttered, hoisting up his pants.

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating, Mom?” asked Marge. “I’m not even sure a roller skate is a real murder weapon. Or a flowerpot for that matter.”

“They are, and you better get with the program, missy. This gang uses everyday objects as murder weapons. They’re like the MacGyver of killers. Besides, you just had a pirate boat drop on your head. Or do you think a sawn-off mast isn’t a murder weapon either?”

She had Marge there.“Yes, that is odd,” she admitted. “But who would do this? Who would target us?”

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out,” said Gran, darting nasty glances at Chase and Alec as they strolled into the waiting room. “Cause it’s obvious to me that those two humpty dumpties would rather let us die than pull their heads out of their asses and lift a finger.”

Just then, the doctor in charge of Odelia’s recovery strode in. Dressed in his white coat, he looked particularly handsome, Gran thought. He was one of those hot young doctors you only see on medical shows, and she instantly took a shine to him. Though she knew from experience handsome young doctors were all hiding secrets. Like an eviltwin. Or a fraudulent degree from a fake university. Or even a third nipple in a really weird place.

“Good news,” said the handsome young doctor as he addressed his audience. “Odelia will make a full recovery. We found nothing alarming on the MRI scan and there’s no swelling of the brain, no contusion, nothing to indicate any lasting damage. I would like to keep her overnight just to make sure, but apart from that, I’m positive she’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Marge, bringing her hands to her face. Tears were falling like dewy rain, and Gran didn’t wonder. She herself had experienced a twinge of dread when she saw her beloved granddaughter in such a terrible state.

“She was lucky,” the doctor acknowledged. “If she’d fallen even one centimeter to the left or to right, things could have been a lot worse.” He turned to Uncle Alec. “Odelia told me this was an accident?”

“It was,” said Alec, giving Gran a look of defiance.

“It wasn’t,” Gran instantly shot back. “My granddaughter was attacked in her own home by the notorious Yellow Parka MacGyver Gang, and the members of this gang have yet to be caught. All the while, the police are doing nothing to stop the carnage. Nothing!”

The handsome young doctor frowned.“That’s very disturbing. I hope you catch this… Yellow Parka MacGyver Gang before they cause more harm.”

Alec pressed his lips together. He clearly wasn’t happy with Gran’s intervention.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Gran. She tapped her chest. “I’ll catch them. Because when the people paid to protect the citizens of this community fail to do their job, it’s up to us to take matters into our own hands and go after the bastards ourselves.”

The doctor gave her a puzzled look, then nodded.“Well, then. I’ll keep you all informed of Odelia’s progress. In the meantime, you can join her again. But don’t keep her up. What she needs right now is rest, rest, and more rest.”

And with these words, he was off at a brisk trot.

“What are you up to, Ma?” asked Alec, a note of ice in his voice.

“I’m going to catch the bastards, just like I said. Cause if they tried to kill her once, they’ll try again—and I promise you I’ll be there when they do, and I’ll strike them down with my fist of fury!” She shook her bony fist to emphasize her words and walked off.

Chapter 36

Alec and Chase stood conferring by the vending machine. Alec was nursing a styrofoam cup of watery coffee, wondering why the brew in these places always tasted like sewage.

“What do you make of Vesta’s wild accusations?” Chase asked.

Alec shook his head.“You know what my mother is like.” He just hoped she wouldn’t go out and start some kind of private vigilante search for this gang of men in yellow parkas.

“Yeah, but she’s not completely unhinged. There are signs that something is seriously wrong here. Like that mast dropping on Marge. That was tampered with, right?”

Alec heaved a deep sigh.“I know that’s what I said but now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not so sure?”

“At first glance, I’d say that yes, someone sawed through that thing, but now that I think about it, it could have simply been shoddy construction. An expert will have to determine what caused that mast to collapse when it did.”

“And what about Tex and his flowerpot incident?”

“Coincidence,” said Alec. “We searched that house top to bottom. No indication anyone was even in there when that flowerpot fell down. I’m blaming it on a draft that kicked open a window and knocked down that pot. Like I said, just a coincidence.”

“And the roller skate? Or Odelia’s rug?”

“Accidents. Anyone could trip over a roller skate, or a rug. How would an attacker even know Vesta would be the one to walk by at that exact moment, and step on that exact skate? Unless he was psychic, which I think we can agree is just crazy talk. Nah. That skate was left by some kid, and Vesta just happened to trip over it. Same thing with Odelia’s rug.”

“What about Brutus almost being run over?”

“Same thing. Cats get run over by careless drivers every single day. Why would this be any different? The only thing that makes this a strange case is the fact that all these accidents happened within the space of a day, to members of the same family. That is weird. But not criminal.”

Chase nodded.“I’m glad you say so cause I think you’re absolutely right. Only thing worrying me is Vesta going off like a loose cannon, stirring up trouble all over the place.”

Alec wholeheartedly agreed with his younger colleague. Then again, Vesta would do what Vesta would do. Not a damn thing they could do about it.“All in all I’m pretty satisfied only one crime was committed here. And that’s Dany Cooper’s murder.”

“And we have her killer in custody, so case closed.”

“Case closed,” Alec agreed. The comment about the mole had been the final piece of the puzzle. Now he was fully convinced Wolf Langdon was the man they’d been looking for.

“Then I only have one question for you,” said Chase as he took a sip from his own cup and winced, then dumped it in the trash.

“Yeah?”

“Who is Ringo?”

Uh-oh.“Um… Ringo?”

“The witness you mentioned? You said a new witness came forward and he testified that Dany’s murderer had an owl-shaped mole on the back of his right hand?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t a witness, per se,” he said, backtracking.

“So what is he? And can I talk to this Ringo character?”

“Ringo is, um, not someone who reached out to us,” said Alec carefully. “He actually came to Odelia. He’s one of her sources. And you know how Odelia is about her sources.”

Chase groaned.“Not again. What is it with Odelia and her mysterious sources?”

“Reporters, Chase. That’s how they operate.”

“So when can I have a crack at this Ringo?”

“You’ll have to ask Odelia. But I think you already know the answer.”

“Dammit. I wanted to have a chat with this Ringo. Tie up the case with a neat bow.”

Alec suppressed a smile. Tough to have a chat with a Chihuahua.

Though Ringo would probably love the bow.

Chapter 37

Tex and Marge were the only ones left in the small hospital waiting room. And they weren’t going anywhere. Even though the doctor had said there was nothing they could do there, and Odelia slept peacefully, Marge couldn’t imagine going home, or going to work, while her little girl was laid up in her room. She would have preferred to sit by her side, but after the doctor had left, a nurse had told them it would be a little while before they could go back in there, as they needed to run some tests and take care of some other stuff.

“I don’t get it,” she said, rubbing her arms. “What tests? What stuff? Odelia is sleeping, the doctor told us so himself. What can they possibly be doing to my baby?”

“I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” said Tex, taking her hand and patting it consolingly.

“You’re a doctor, Tex. Can’t you ask them what’s going on?”

“You heard what’s going on. They’re running some tests and they’ll let us know when we can get in there.”

“But what tests?!”

She knew she was acting like a hysteric but frankly she didn’t care. Her only daughter had almost died today and she wasn’t going to be calm and rational for quite some time while she tried to deal with this emergency. She didn’t even care anymore that she’d only escaped death by inches herself, and so had Tex and even Vesta.

“What’s going on, Tex? Do you really think there’s a gang out there trying to kill us?”

“Alec doesn’t seem to think so,” Tex said carefully.

“But my mother does, and look how often she’s been proved right.”

“And how often she’s been proved wrong,” said Tex, still patting her hand.

She jerked it from his grasp.“I don’t understand. Something is happening and it scares me.”

“Everything will be just fine,” said Tex, though he didn’t sound convinced himself. He looked up at the nurse, but she merely passed by, without a message to share this time. “And I’m sure they know perfectly well what they’re doing,” he added.

Marge bit her lower lip. If she kept this up she wouldn’t have a lip left by the time Odelia was allowed to go home. “Remember how beautiful she was?”

Tex immediately knew what she was talking about, for he smiled.“She still is.”

“She is, isn’t she? Our beautiful darling baby girl. Oh, Tex. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

“Nothing is going to happen to her. She has her guardian angels looking out for her.”

“Do you think that if Max and Dooley hadn’t been there, she would have taken an even nastier fall?”

“I’m sure of it. Somehow—and I don’t know how any of this works—this gift you and Odelia share—and Vesta,” he added grudgingly, “not only gives you the power to communicate with cats, it also seems to have transferred to you certain qualities cats have. Amongst them the whole nine lives thing.”

“You don’t think that’s just a myth?”

“No, actually I don’t. Cats are notoriously hard to kill, and so are you and Odelia.”

“And Mom.”

“And your mom,” he said reluctantly.

Marge smiled.“You don’t really believe we have nine lives, do you?”

“Why not? You can talk to those sweethearts, why not share other traits as well?”

It definitely was a comforting thought.

“Do you think Chase knows?” she asked.

“Knows what? That you can talk to cats? I don’t think so.”

“I forgot he was there for a moment. In Odelia’s room? He was giving me some very strange looks.”

“We can simply ascribe that to your general state of mind. You were very distraught, honey. We all were.”

“True, but maybe it’s time we told him? I told you at a certain point, remember?”

Tex smiled at the memory.“I didn’t believe you at first. I thought you were pulling my leg.”

“Chase will, too. But we still owe it to him to know the truth about this family. Especially if…”

“He and Odelia end up together.”

“Which I’m starting to think they will.”

“I think so, too. He seems really smitten with her.”

“And she with him.”

She was feeling calmer now. Talking things through with her husband always had that effect on her. She looked up into his face.“You know? You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Tex. And I don’t say this nearly often enough.”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, too, Marge,” he said.

They kissed, and didn’t even hear it when the nurse walked up to them, on those rubber-soled nurse’s sneakers of hers. But when she cleared her throat, and said, “You can go in now,” Marge’s heart jumped. Maybe Tex was right, and things would be just fine.

After all, weren’t they always?

Chapter 38

There was a knock at the door of Odelia’s room and a man poked his head in. He wasn’t a doctor or a nurse but still seemed vaguely familiar to me. When he saw that the couch was covered in cats, he smiled. Immediately I warmed to him. I can never dislike a cat person, and this man obviously was one.

Odelia opened her eyes and stared at the man for a moment, then also smiled.“Conway. How did you know I was here?”

“A member of the crew heard you had an accident, so I made it my mission to find out which hospital you’d been taken to.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

He strode further into the room, and spirited a large bouquet of flowers from behind his back and offered it to Odelia. She was almost hidden behind the huge selection of blooms.

“They’re lovely,” she said, taking a sniff. “You shouldn’t have.”

“They’re from the entire crew, wishing you a speedy recovery.”

He took a seat next to the bed, then a tentative peek at the bandages that covered the right part of Odelia’s head. “So how are you feeling?”

“Oh, it looks a lot worse than it is,” she assured him. “Just me being clumsy, I guess. Tripped over a carpet, if you can believe it. Silly me.”

“Could happen to anyone,” he said. “In fact it happened to me once. I broke an arm in the process.”

“In that case I guess I was lucky.” She waved her arms. “No broken bones.”

He laughed and settled back in his chair, which creaked.“I have a proposal for you, Odelia.”

“Oh, not a wedding proposal, I hope. I’m afraid I’m taken already.”

He laughed again, throwing his head back.

He looked like a nice person, I thought. He had one of those rolled-out-of-bed hairdos and a three-day beard that made him look what most women would consider extremely sexy. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and cowboy boots. The ultimate bad boy. I wondered if he was an actor, too.

“No, nothing like that, I’m afraid,” he said. “The thing is, we’re going to continue the Hampton Cove Bard in the Park shows. We’re actually going through with it. We had a big meeting this morning at the manor and it was decided we don’t want to give this up. Even Don agreed, if you can believe it. Though he demanded a bigger part for himself, of course.”

“Of course. So you found another director.”

“We have. I don’t think you know her. Vita Bogdanovich. She’s very good. Not like Wolf, of course, but she’s one of the best at what she does. The thing is, Emily and I have been thinking things through. What with Wolf being in jail and all, and in light of the terrible things he’s done, we’re going to rename the company, and do some restructuring. We’re also going to have to reconsider our production slate, and now I’m finally getting to the point,” he said when Odelia yawned.

“Don’t mind me. It’s the stuff they put in my drip. It just makes me woozy.”

What made Odelia woozy was probably the slight concussion she’d suffered, I thought, but my own eyes were also drooping closed. The hospital room was nice and warm, and the couch soft and comfy.

“The thing is, we’re staging a production of Mary Poppins in the spring, and Wolf had been looking for someone to play Mary. He’d mentioned a couple of times how he thought Dany Cooper was perfect for the part. So now with Dany gone—and Wolf…” He looked at Odelia expectantly. “I was hoping that you’d be interested.”

“You want me to help you find your Mary Poppins?”

“As far as I’m concerned, we’ve found her already, and with your permission I’d like to make it official. I talked to Emily, and showed her some of your footage, and she agrees.”

Odelia frowned.“With my permission? Why do you need my permission?”

“Because you’re she. You’re our Mary Poppins. Only if you want, of course.”

Odelia let out a little squeak of delight.“Me? You want me to play Mary?”

He was grinning widely.“Yes, we do. We can’t think of a better person to embody the spirit of Mary, and from what we’ve seen you’re born to play the part. A natural.”

Odelia didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but her eyes were sparkling, which probably meant she liked the idea.

“Who’s Mary Poppins?” asked Dooley, who’d been listening intently.

“She’s a governess who can fly and do all kinds of magic,” I said. “Don’t you remember? We saw the movie just the other day. The one with Emily Blunt.”

“Fly? A governess who can fly?”

“She’s from England,” I said, and he nodded, as if that explained everything.

Brutus yawned.“So Odelia is going to be an actress. Cool. I just hope she won’t have to travel the world. I hate to travel.”

“And who says she’ll take us along on her travels?” said Harriet. “I know for a fact that actors never take their cats along with them. Shanille’s human has a sister whose second cousin twice removed is an actress and when she flies out for some movie she’s shooting up in Canada or wherever, she always asks Father Reilly’s sister to take care of her cats for her.”

“She’s not going to take us along with her?” asked Dooley. “But that’s just wrong.”

“Cats don’t travel,” said Harriet decidedly. “Everybody knows that. Dogs do, which is why many people who travel a lot prefer to get a dog and dump their cats at the pound.”

“I travel,” I said. “I would love to travel with Odelia.”

Frankly, I wouldn’t. I like my home, I like my couch, I like my backyard, I like my friends and I like my routine. Traveling simply seems like a terrible way to occupy your time, not to mention having to sleep in strange beds, and meet a lot of strange people. If Odelia insisted, I’d do it in a heartbeat, of course. But after Harriet’s words I was starting to think she wouldn’t insist.

“So what do you say?” asked this Conway person. “Say yes,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

I had to hand it to him. He was very charming, apart from being very handsome.

“I’ll have to think about it,” said Odelia. “And discuss it with my boyfriend, not to mention my boss.”

“Your boss? Oh, right. The reporter thing.” He seemed to figure that wasn’t a big deal. “You can take a leave of absence, though, can’t you?”

“I’m Dan’s only reporter,” Odelia explained. “If I take a leave of absence he’ll have to hire another reporter, and there aren’t that many reporters in Hampton Cove.”

She was the only one, I knew. Reporters don’t grow on trees in small towns like Hampton Cove. It was a miracle Dan had found Odelia. If not for her he’d probably have had to close down the Gazette when he decided to retire. Now she was poised to take over when he did.

Conway seemed displeased for some reason.“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Odelia.”

“I know it is. And I’m very excited. But I’ll still need time to think.”

He frowned, clearly not used to being turned down like this.

“Have it your way,” he said a little grumpily. “I thought you’d jump at the chance, but clearly I was mistaken.”

“Oh, but I think it’s a wonderful opportunity. It’s just…”

He silenced her with an imperious gesture.“Don’t think too long. This offer is time-sensitive.”

It sounded a lot like a threat, and suddenly I liked handsome dude a lot less.

Being the diplomat she was, Odelia decided to change the subject.“So have you visited Wolf in prison?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “I don’t know what I’ll say to him when I do. He’s just…” He raked his fingers through his shaggy mane. “He’s one of my oldest friends. I just can’t believe he’d do a thing like that.”

“I know,” she said. “He never struck me as the murderous type. Then again, you just never know, do you?”

“No, I guess you don’t. Is it true that you’re the one who caught him?”

She nodded.“Me and Chase—that’s my boyfriend. He’s a local detective.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him. Talked to him, even.”

“That’s right. Chase interviewed everyone.”

“He was very thorough.” Conway frowned. “Just tell me one thing. Simply to satisfy my personal curiosity. The papers never mention stuff like that. How did you know it was him?”

“A witness came forward. She said the killer was wearing a yellow jacket—a yellow parka, as a matter of fact. And then we found a yellow parka hanging in Wolf’s closet. It still had Dany’s blood on it.”

“Terrible,” said Conway, shaking his head. “That’s just terrible.”

“Also, another witness said the killer had an owl-shaped mole on the back of his right hand, and Wolf has just such a mole.”

“A witness said that?” Conway seemed surprised by this.

Odelia nodded.“She saw the killer and even though she didn’t get a good look at his face, she did see his hand.”

“So this second witness is a she, huh? And will she testify in court?”

Odelia cast a quick glance in my direction, and I shook my head. No, Rita would definitely not testify in court, that much was obvious, and neither would Ringo.

“You’ll have to ask my uncle,” she said, still the diplomat. “He’s the chief of police.”

“Right.” He flashed her a quick smile. “You’re something of a sleuthhound, aren’t you, Odelia?”

“Reporter, sleuth—this girl wears many hats, Con.”

“She does. And now she’s going to be a star on the stage, too.”

His phone jangled in his pocket and he took it out. And as he answered it, I saw Odelia stare at the man, her eyes suddenly wide, and her face almost as white as the sheets she was lying under.

But then Conway excused himself, got up and walked out just when Tex and Marge walked in.

Odelia stared at me, then said slowly,“The owl-shaped mole.”

“What about it?” I said.

“Conway has one. On his right hand.”

Chapter 39

Odelia had called an emergency meeting, and it was being held in her hospital room. Not the best place in the world to hold a meeting, but she had no other choice. The doctor advised against her discharging herself from the hospital, and so did her dad. And she wasn’t going to put herself in danger by going against their wishes.

Around her sat her mom and dad, her uncle Alec, and Chase, of course. They’d tried to locate Gran but hadn’t succeeded. She was off somewhere on a quest to locate the Yellow Parka MacGyver Gang and wasn’t answering her phone.

“So what’s so important?” asked Uncle Alec.

“It’s about your head, isn’t it?” said Marge. “The doctor has found a tumor!”

“No, nothing like that,” Odelia was quick to put her mother’s mind at ease. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Dany Cooper.”

“Dany? You’ve uncovered some more information?” asked Chase.

“I have. You locked up the wrong man. Wolf Langdon didn’t kill Dany.”

There were gasps of shock around her hospital bed. In a corner of the room, four cats also stirred. The nurses, understanding Odelia wasn’t going to part with her cats, even though they didn’t agree, had brought in blankets, bowls of food and water, and even a litter box. It was an unusual arrangement, but Tex had talked to the head nurse, and had convinced her it would help Odelia enormously in her recovery, and she’d grudgingly agreed.

“How do you know?” asked Chase, reluctant to let go of his main suspect.

“Remember how I mentioned Ringo?”

“The mysterious witness,” said Chase, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair.

“Ringo said he saw the murder, and led me to a second witness. Her name is Rita. And she said the thing that made the killer stand out was an owl-shaped mole on the back of his hand. I checked pictures of Wolf’s right hand. He has a mole, but it’s not owl-shaped.”

She held up her phone, and showed a close-up of Wolf’s mole to the others.

“It’s more, like, pear-shaped,” Marge said.

“Pear-shaped, owl-shaped. Who cares?” said Chase. “The guy did it. He had the parka still hanging in his closet. You saw it yourself!”

“That’s what I thought, until a man came to visit me earlier, and he does have an owl-shaped mole on his hand. Conway Kemp.”

“Wolf’s business partner? Why would he kill Dany?”

“I’ve talked to several crew members this afternoon—I have nothing better to do while I’m laid up here anyway.”

“Honey, you’re supposed to rest, not conduct a murder investigation over the phone,” said her dad.

“I know, but an innocent man is in jail, and the real killer is walking around a free man. What do you expect me to do? Besides, I feel fine,” she added waving away her dad’s tut-tutting. “The thing is, Conway was madly in love with Dany.”

“How do you know?” asked Chase, who was proving hardest to convince.

“Several people said he’d been making advances towards her ever since production started. He’s the one who discovered her, not Wolf. And apparently Con had this crazy idea of taking her to the top as her husband-manager. She fell for Wolf, though, and wasn’t interested in Con. He kept showering her with gifts, though, and asking her out, and she kept turning him down. I think he must have lost it yesterday, after she turned him down yet again. He stabbed her in a fit of rage and left the yellow parka in Wolf’s closet to frame him.”

“But we found that parka by accident. Nobody told us where to find it,” said Chase.

“I’m pretty sure Con would have put in an anonymous call to put us onto the parka. Only we beat him to it, which made things work out even better than he’d expected.”

“This is all conjecture,” Chase pointed out. “For one thing, who are these witnesses? This Ringo and this Rita? Are you going to produce them so they can testify in court?”

“We need to extract a confession from Conway Kemp,” said Uncle Alec.

“We’d have to arrest him first. And on what grounds? The word of two witnesses who won’t come forward? A mole on his hand?” Chase shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Odelia, honey, I’ve gone along with this as far as I can, but you’re just grasping at straws.”

“I’m not crazy, Chase. Conway killed Dany. I just know he did,” she said.

Chase was looking at her as if this bump on her head had messed with her sanity, and she hated it.

“I’m not going to arrest a man based on some flimsy ‘evidence,’” said Chase. “We have a solid case against Langdon and I’m sure the judge will agree with me on that. How about you, Chief?”

Uncle Alec was in a tough spot. Either he sided with his niece, on the basis of evidence he would never be able to bring into court, or he sided with his lead detective, knowing he was dead wrong. Either way, he would be criticized.

“I think—” he began.

But he was interrupted by some type of loud commotion outside.

He got up, and so did the others, and moved over to the window.

Underneath Odelia’s window, on the hospital parking lot, Gran was holding up a sign that read, ‘Justice for the Pooles. Arrest the Yellow Parka Gang Now!’

“End police incompetence!” she yelled when she caught sight of her son. “Put our tax dollars to work now!”

Chapter 40

Conway Kemp was in a lousy mood. He’d offered the part of Mary Poppins to that Odelia Poole and she still hadn’t gotten back to him. He didn’t get it. Any other actor would have jumped at the chance to accept a plum part like that, potentially launching her career, and this woman preferred to stay buried in this small town andwork as a stupid reporter?

Women. One was even dumber than the next.

It was late already, and he passed by the dining room on his way to the small theater Marcia Graydon had installed in the basement. He’d gotten a text from Marisa, one of the interns helping out in the script department, to meet him down in the theater. She had something urgent she needed to discuss with him that couldn’t wait.

He hated stuff like that, but it all came with the territory. When you were a producer on any project, you tried to take care of the small stuff, unburdening the creatives as much as you could. Hiring people was part of the process, and so was keeping them happy and productive.

So even though he wanted to hit the hay and zonk out, he crossed the dining room and then the few steps down into the basement. A small stage had been erected there, with a large pull-down projector screen, so the 100-seat theater could double as a private screening room.

They’d been using the theater for rehearsals and script readings, before they went out and rehearsed at the park, where the production would eventually be staged once all the pieces were in place. Until then, the theater was the creative hub of the project.

“Marisa?” he called out when he entered. The lights were doused, but there was one lone bulb lit on stage. Weird. And a little creepy. “Marisa? You wanted to talk to me?”

He crossed the room and mounted the stage, wondering where the damn girl could be. Would be typical, of course, for her to have some imagined or real emergency, only to completely forget about it a minute later.

Probably boyfriend trouble. Being away from home, and staying with a bunch of other young people at a fancy mansion in the Hamptons, things tended to get a little out of control. Add to that the stacks of weed these kids consumed, and it was a miracle Bard in the Park didn’t turn full-on Woodstock. It was the kind of stuff Con had to deal with on a daily basis. Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn’t have stayed in the Marines. He sometimes hated these so-called creatives. Bunch of nutcases, every last one of them.

He was surprised to find a bunch of cats seated on stage. Weird. Wherever he turned these days, he seemed to encounter cats. They were staring at him, unmoving, those eyes unblinking and frankly more than a little scary, the single bulb reflected in those dark orbs.

He had never admitted it to anyone, but he hated cats. They gave him the creeps. The way they could just stare at you, as if looking straight into your soul. Brrrr.

“Marisa!” He yelled. “Where the hell are you?”

Suddenly, from the wings, a figure stepped forward. He gulped when he recognized her as… Dany Cooper! She even had the knife still stuck in her chest, blood oozing from the wound, as well as from her lips, and when she spoke, it was with a haunting undertone.

“Why did you do it, Con? Why did you kill me? I thought you loved me?”

“I—what—this isn’t happening,” he stammered, staggering back. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I’m real, Con. As real as you. I can’t seem to find peace. Not until I know why you did it. Why, Con? Why did you kill me? I liked you. I know you liked me. You kept saying it all the time. And sending me those gifts. Those expensive perfumes, clothes, underwear…”

“I did like you—I mean I still do—I… Oh, God!” A creature suddenly scurried through his legs and he yelped, then fell to the floor. He watched with dread as Dany approached.

He couldn’t help but notice how pale her face was—so horribly pale, all the blood having drained from it and out of that wound.

On the floor there was a steady drip-drip-drip of blood as she walked.

“Why, Con?” she repeated. “Can’t you see? I need to know. Why did you kill me? I still had so much to live for. So much talent. So much life. Wasted. Because of you.”

“I didn’t—I don’t…”

“I was so young. And you killed me. You destroyed me. You’re responsible…”

“It’s your own damn fault!” he screamed as another cat scurried past him, then hissed, and moved on. This wasn’t happening! Was he going crazy? He must be. Ghosts didn’t exist, did they? But Dany seemed awfully real. There was even some dirt caked to her hair, and the side of her face. Even her clothes, the same clothes she was wearing when she died, were streaked with mud. She’d dragged herself here straight from the grave!

“Why did you kill me, Con?” she said, repeating the same mantra, as she drew inexorably closer to him, still that steady drip-drip-drip of blood. Thick, dark liquid oozing out of her, now flowing from her mouth—out of the corners of her eyes—her nose—her ears!

“Stop! Don’t you come near me!” he yelled, crawling back towards the edge of the stage. “You brought this on yourself. You didn’t want me. I asked you again and again. I would have given you everything. Not like Wolf. That loser would never have left his wife for you. Never! He couldn’t. She was his lifeline. His financial backbone. Without his wife, he was nothing, and the company was nothing. I told you, but you wouldn’t believe me. You kept hoping he would leave his wife but I told you—he wasn’t going to do that.

“Oh, why did you throw yourself away on that loser?” he lamented. “Why? And then when I told you, you just laughed. You laughed! I declared my everlasting love and you threw it back in my face! So I lost it. I had the knife in my hand from peeling an apple so I stabbed you. I never meant to hurt you. How could I! I love you, Dany. I love you! Oh, I’m so sorry…”

He collapsed into a blubbering mess of mucus and misery. She was upon him, bending over him, dripping her blood on him. He felt it. In his hair. Then she reached out a hand and touched him and he screamed!

“No—don’t take me with you!” he yelled. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“And you should be,” Dany said. Only her voice had suddenly taken on a different timbre.

And as he looked up into her face, she smiled. He blinked.“What’s going on?”

From across the stage, several people now came walking out. He recognized Marisa, the intern who’d texted him, and Bernice from makeup, Janice from the costume department, but also that police chief, and Detective Kingsley.

“Conway Kemp,” said the Chief sternly. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Dany Cooper.”

He snapped his head up, to take in Dany again.“Dany? What’s going on?”

“I’m not Dany, Con,” said the woman, as she accepted a paper towel from Bernice and started wiping away her makeup. “But if I were, I’d tell you that you’re a monster. And that you’ll be punished for what you did to her.”

And only then did he recognize her as Odelia Poole.

Oh, darn it.

Chapter 41

Our humans were all seated around the table in Marge’s backyard. Tex was incinerating burger patties on the grill, with the expert assistance of Alec and Chase, while Gran was listening intently to Odelia and Marge trying to make a few things clear about this case.

“So there never was a yellow parka gang?” the old lady asked, looking confused.

“No, there wasn’t. Those were all random accidents that just happened to happen on the same day,” Marge explained

“But the mast of the pirate ship? That was tampered with, right?”

“Construction error. That mast could have dropped down any time. Someone had glued those two pieces together instead of using bolts. The glue didn’t hold and the whole thing came crashing down.”

“But I saw a man dressed in yellow,” Gran insisted.

“Probably the person who lives in that house, wearing a yellow sweater,” said Odelia.

“What about you, Tex?” Gran bellowed over the sound of the sizzling burgers. “You saw a man shove that flowerpot from the windowsill, didn’t you?”

“Quite frankly I never saw anyone,” said Tex, a little sheepish. “I saw movement, but that was probably just the window flapping, which was the reason the pot dropped down in the first place.”

“I don’t get it,” said Gran, shaking her head in frustration. “I was so sure there was a gang targeting us.”

“No gang. Just a bunch of freak accidents,” said Odelia.

“But stuff like that never happened to us before!” Gran insisted. “So why did it happen now?”

Odelia nor Marge had an answer to that.

“I think I know what happened,” said Dooley.

We were all seated on the porch swing, and we stared at Dooley.

“Why is that?” asked Harriet.

“Because the universe wanted to demonstrate just how well-protected the Pooles are. And what better way to do that than by engaging them in a series of near-fatal accidents?”

Those were some real words of wisdom, and coming from Dooley, too!

“Sounds plausible,” I said. “If you accept that there is a universe that’s wise and conscious.”

“Of course there is,” said Dooley. “Why else would it have placed us in this family, with such nice people? That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

It was a tough proposition to ponder, and my head was already hurting.

“I don’t know about all of that,” said Brutus. “I’m just glad I ended up where I am.” He gave Harriet a tiny nudge, and she giggled.

“So am I,” she said.

The two love birds quickly tired of our company, and hopped off the porch to celebrate their newfound reconciliation in their favored rosebushes. The sinkhole had been filled up by Gran, and the bushes had been made cat-safe once more.

“There’s one thing that still puzzles me, though,” said Dooley.

“What’s that?”

“Why weren’t there any fingerprints on the knife Conway used to kill Dany?”

That was a question I could answer.“He wiped them off. Beforehe took off.”

“So it was a crime of passion?”

“It was. He didn’t plan to kill her. It just happened. And he couldn’t believe his luck that no one had seen him.”

“So why did he try to frame Wolf? Wasn’t he supposed to be his best friend?”

“He secretly hated Wolf for seducing Dany and playing fast and loose with her.”

“He did it all for love,” said Dooley with a sigh.

“He did it because he couldn’t accept that when a woman says No, she means No.”

Just then, Chase sat down on the porch next to us, leaned his arms on the back support and glanced the other way.“So what’s all this about a witness named Ringo, huh?”

He glanced in our direction, as we stared back at him, dubious.

“Do you think he understands us now?” asked Dooley.

“I’m not sure. Tell him something.”

“Hello, Chase!” Dooley said with emphasis. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Chase laughed.“I must be going crazy. Talking to a bunch of cats.”

“I don’t think he can understand us,” I said.

“No, I don’t think so either.”

“Oh, God,” said Chase, glancing up at the sky. “You know? I don’t know about you guys, but there’s something really funny going on with this family. The way all the women keep chatting with their cats, as if they can actually understand a word they’re saying. And how Odelia keeps dragging mysterious witnesses from her hat.” He shook his head. “If I put my detective’s cap on, I’d say she does actually… talk to you guys. Which, as we all know, is impossible.” He glanced over to us. This time we just stared at him, without uttering a word.

Was Chase onto Odelia’s secret? That wasn’t good. Or was it?

Chase laughed.“See? I’m doing it again. Talking to a bunch of dumb animals. Let me just make one thing perfectly clear.” He leaned in, and lowered his voice. “This family may be weird, but I love the hell out of them. All of them—even Odelia’s pain-in-the-ass Granny. And I know that you do, too. So let’s make a deal, all right? I’m going to promise to take good care of you guys, if you promise to take good care of Odelia. Deal?”

“Deal,” both Dooley and I said in unison.

I’d always liked Chase, and now I was liking him even more, if possible.

Chase stared at us.“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “You little dudescan talk.”

“Of course we can talk,” said Dooley. “What do you take us for? Dumb animals?”

“That’s exactly what he takes us for, Dooley,” I said. “He just said so.”

“I know, but he was probably kidding, right? Weren’t you kidding, Chase?”

But the cop was shaking his head.“Holy crap. This is some weird shit right there.”

“I resent being called weird shit,” I told him.

I liked Odelia’s boyfriend, but not if he was going to start calling us names.

“Okay. Let’s try this again,” he said. “Max.”

“Yes, Chase?”

“Can you understand me?”

“Of course I can understand you. Now ask me a real question.”

“Holy mackerel. You cats can hear me! And talk back at me!”

I gulped and turned to Dooley.“Did we just reveal Odelia’s big secret?”

“I think we did,” said Dooley, looking equally stricken.

Chase then pressed his index finger to his lips.“Let’s keep this between us for now, you guys.” He then got up, and muttered, “Holy moly. This is big. This is, like, huge.”

Holy moly was right, and so was huge. Huge trouble. For us!

11. PURRFECT BETRAYAL

Prologue

The taxi pulled up at the entrance and Camilla got out. The driver darted a curious glance at the gate and cocked an eyebrow in Camilla’s direction. “Are you sure about this, honey? Doesn’t look like they’re expecting you.”

He was right, Camilla thought. The gate was closed and the place looked less than inviting. But she’d always known her ex-husband was an eccentric, and it was just like him to invite her to some weird destination for their big reconciliation.

“No, I’ll be all right,” she said, suppressing a little giggle.

“I guess you know best,” said the driver dubiously.

As he drove off into the dark night, she suddenly felt giddy. Nervous, yes, but also excited about the prospect of finally seeing Jeb again. So much had happened in the past couple of months, but if Jeb’s texts were to be believed, he considered all of that just water under the bridge.

And she had to admit that when she got those texts, she’d been both surprised and relieved. Surprised that Jeb, after the things she’d accused him of, and the acrimonious battle in the divorce courts, wanted to meet. Relieved that he wasn’t holding a grudge, and knew she’d said all of those things simply to get his attention and to make him change his ways. And how else could she have done that than by dragging his name through the mud?

The important thing was that her plan had worked.

He’d finally realized he needed to make a change or lose her forever.

And now she was ready to throw herself into his arms and love him again.

She took a deep breath and stepped up to the gate. And as she did, it swung open with a little click and she directed a smile at the camera mounted on top. Jeb had been watching her. He’d anticipated her arrival as eagerly as she’d anticipated this fated reunion.

She straightened her shoulders, tugged at her silk Donna Karan blouse, and stepped through the gate.

As she did, the gate noiselessly closed behind her and she paused for a moment, getting her bearings.

A driveway led to a hulking mansion that rose up spookily in the distance, backlit by a rising moon. To her immediate left, a smaller brick structure was visible. Inside, the lights were blazing. She smiled. It was just like Jeb to organize their first meeting in months at a place like this. A gamekeeper’s lodge, probably, or a renovated custodian’s house. She knew why he wanted to meet her here and not at the manor. Nosy staff could spoil their reunion before it even started. Butlers and housekeepers and maids would spread the news, and even before Jeb had opened his arms to clasp her to his bosom, the whole world would know that the divorce of the decade was about to lead to the romance of the century.

It was for the same reason she hadn’t used her real name when getting a cab, just like Jeb had advised in his last text, before she boarded her plane at LAX. Tabloids had spies everywhere, and neither she nor Jeb needed some nasty pap suddenly sticking his nose in.

She walked up to the front door of the lodge and held up her hand to knock on the door. Even before it landed on the coarse wood, the door swung open, and she found herself staring at that familiar face.

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Jeb woke up with a groan. His head was pounding and his eyes were sore. He rubbed them then stretched. Instantly, he regretted not having stayed perfectly still. The room was spinning so fast he felt like he was on a merry-go-round and about to fall off. His poor suffering stomach lurched, anxious to regurgitate its contents and deposit it on the bed.

He opened his eyes to glare at the offending sun, which had had the gall to intrude upon his fitful sleep.

Sleep, or near-coma.

It had been another long night, and as he sat up in bed he brushed aside an empty bottle of Smirnoff. It fell to the faux sheepskin rug below with a dull clunking sound.

The ashtray was filled to overflowing with cigarette butts and roaches and his bong was still firmly lodged between his thighs.

He was dressed in only his boxers, his fifty-five-year-old body displaying so many tats it was as if a mad tattoo artist had been given free rein to fill up the canvas as he saw fit.

On the nightstand a mirror still held a line of coke, which he now snorted up eagerly, rubbed the remains into his gums and washed it down with a swig from a bottle of Bud.

It was only then that he noticed his hands were covered in some type of weird substance. He stared at it. A dark, reddish brown. Henna? He brought his index finger to his nose and sniffed. In spite of the coke wreaking havoc on his nasal cavities, he frowned when he got a hit of a coppery odor. He gave his finger a tentative lick. Huh. Tasted like blood.

Had he suffered a nosebleed last night? He picked up the mirror, blew off the remnants of white powder and held it up in front of him. Nope. No sign of a nosebleed.

He stared at himself. Once he’d been handsome—every teenage girl’s dream. Now he looked like a garden gone to seed. Wisps of dirty grayish hair covered the lower portion of his haggard face, and the eyes that stared back at him were heavy-lidded and tired.

He grinned at himself, and thought not for the first time that he should really pay a visit to the dentist.

As he got up, suddenly something fell to the floor.

He stared at it numbly.

It was one of those big butcher knives.

And it was bloodied.

Weird. Had he cut himself last night? But then why wasn’t he in any pain?

He quickly checked himself for holes in his corpus and found none.

Nope. Everything was still as it should be.

He then stumbled out of the bedroom and into the living quarters of the modest lodge he now called home.

And that’s when he saw it—or rather, her: lying spread-eagled on his living room rug was the body of a woman. And not just any woman. He instantly recognized her as the woman he’d once loved and had recently divorced in one of the nastiest divorces in Hollywood history.

What was worse, from the way Camilla’s lifeless eyes stared back at him, and the spots of dark crimson covering her torso, it was pretty obvious that she was dead.

And that’s when the pounding on the door began. And even before he could rouse himself from the sense of stupefaction that had descended upon him, the door slammed open and a fat cop burst through. The copper took one look at the dead body, then at a bedraggled Jeb, hands bloodied and eyes unfocused, andhis expression turned grim.

“Jeb Pott, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of your ex-wife.”

Chapter 1

I woke up from the sound of distinct mewling. Not so unusual, you might say, since I live in a house occupied by no less than four cats—though technically three of those cats live next door, even though they do spend an awful lot of time at Odelia’s. But this mewling was different than the usual sounds my three feline friends Dooley, Harriet and Brutus make. This was more like the mewling of… kittens. And since to my knowledge Odelia has not and hopefully will never take in kittens, this struck me as particularly odd.

Discounting the sound and ascribing it to a bad dream, I attempted to go back to sleep, turning over to my other side at the foot of Odelia’s bed, closing my eyes once more.

But the mewling persisted.

With a frown, I pricked up my ears.

No mistake. It definitely was mewling, and it seemed to come from downstairs.

With a sigh of extreme reluctance, for I love to sleep, I dragged my blorange self up from the soft, warm, comfy comforter, and dropped to the hardwood floor below.

My human wasn’t up yet, judging from the even breathing, only interrupted by an occasional snuffle, coming from the tousled head on the other end of the bed. And neither was my human’s significant other, police detective Chase Kingsley, who was sleeping in the buff, as usual, and had wrestled free from the comforter to display his chiseled torso while his equally chiseled face was frowning. It would appear that even when sleeping Chase was solving crimes and apprehending criminals. The lone warrior of the law never sleeps.

Nor do cats, actually. Not completely, anyway. There’s always a tiny part of our consciousness that stays wide awake, ready to pounce on prey, or thwart a natural enemy.

Or track strange mewling sounds where no strange mewling sounds should be.

As I plodded down the stairs, I was already figuring out ways and means.

It could be Odelia’s smartphone, which had adopted a new ringtone.

It could be Nickelodeon, launching into its daily programming.

Or it could me, hearing things that weren’t here. Though that was highly unlikely.

Behind me, Dooley sleepily muttered,“Wassup, Max. Why you up?”

“Go back to sleep, Dooley,” I said. “It’s probably nothing.”

I may not be one of those guard dogs humans like to keep, but I do possess a certain sense of responsibility, and like to think that in case of danger I’m ready to sound the alarm.

The noise seemed to come from the modest hallway, where Odelia keeps her small cabinet containing knickknacks, her key dish, and an assortment of cat toys locked up safe and sound inside. I know how to jiggle the door, so each time I want to lay my paw on some rubber duck or plastic mouse, it’s right there for me to find. Not that I’m all that interested in rubber ducks or plastic mice, mind you. I mean, how old do you think I am? Six months? I’m a grownup, and rubber ducks lost their strange and fascinating appeal a long time ago.

I trod up to the door and put my ear against it. On the other side of the plywood I detected the distinct sound of cats mewling. And not just any cats, either. Kittens. Perhaps the foulest creatures in existence, though that particular and dubious honor should probably go to puppies.

I frowned. What were a bunch of kittens doing on Odelia’s doorstep?

“What do you want?” I asked therefore, not making any effort to conceal my disapproval at what amounted to an early-morning raid.

But the mewling continued unabated.

“Oh, stop it, you whiny little pests,” I sternly declared. “Just go away and don’t come back. This house has plenty of felines and no use for more.” Especially—gasp!—kittens.

And then I stepped away from the door and fully intended to retreat upstairs and put in another couple of hours of invigorating and refreshing sleep.

You may think me unnecessarily harsh, but you would be wrong. Kittens are a menace, plain and simple, and if you don’t believe me just try adopting one. They may seem deceptively appealing, with their cute little faces, and their cute little gestures, and their cute little noises, but I’m here to tell you they’re pure, unadulterated evil. Once they get past those first natural defenses, humans will take them in and give them a place, not only in their homes but in their hearts, and soon they won’t be able to get rid for them. And since I already have three other housemates to contend with, this was simply a matter of survival.

But as I turned on my heel, I almost bumped into Odelia, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Wassup?” she muttered, taking a leaf out of Dooley’s book.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, but I heard something. Is that… a cat?”

“Nope. Not a cat,” I said. “Not a cat at all. And I should know, being a cat and all.”

“But—”

“No buts. Let’s go back upstairs. You and I both need our beauty sleep.”

But I could tell the strange fascination the kitten exerts was already working its pernicious magic, for Odelia stepped to the door, arm outstretched, going for the knob.

“Noooooo!” I yelled, but too late.

Already her hand was turning the knob and opening the door.

And there they sat: three kittens, in a carton box, right on our doorstep.

“Oooh!” said Odelia, crouching down. “Oooooooh! Look at those cuties!”

Crap. Even before I could intervene, the poison had entered the bloodstream.

Odelia had spotted the kittens and had gone kitty gaga.

Chapter 2

“Who could have put them here?” Odelia asked.

I could very well have asked her the same thing. I, for one, had never given permission to have my home infested by the pesky little pests.

“Isn’t there a letter or a card?” I asked.

Odelia, who’d taken the box inside and closed the door, checked for a sign of ownership of the threesome.

She took out a tiny slip of paper and read the message it contained.“I hope you will take good care of my babies. For reasons I cannot disclose, I no longer can. I’m sorry.”

She’d placed the box on the kitchen counter and took out the first kitten. It was a ginger specimen, with little white dots, and mewled piteously.

I could tell that Odelia’s heart melted even more, for she started making weird sounds herself now.“Googoogagagoogoo,” she said.“Booboobeebeebooboo.”

I rolled my eyes. Humans tend to lose their heads when they see a kitten. Of course this fatal appeal is exactly the reason our species has endured and has been adopted into the home of no less than one out of three American families: we know how to entice.

“Googoodoodooweeweewoowoo,” Odelia said.

The kitten, which had been wriggling, suddenly focused its tiny eyes on Odelia, then produced its first real meow. Gibberish, of course, but still a sign of recognition. Cat, meet cat lady. Cat lady, meet cat.

Odelia laughed.“Hello there, little one. So who put you in a box and left you on my doorstep, huh?”

The kitten meowed some more, then licked its lips. It started looking around, and I could tell it was already adapting to its new home. Uh-oh. It was wriggling and squirming.

“You want to explore my home?” asked Odelia.

I could have told her this was a bad idea, but she was already putting the kitten down and we both watched as it hobbled off at an awkward and unbalanced gait towards the first potted plant it could find. It then climbed into the terracotta pot and relieved itself.

And Odelia, instead of rectifying this behavior with word and gesture, laughed!

She now picked up the two other kittens and cuddled them, rocking them in her arms. One was a velvety black and the third one pure white.

“Oh, you sweet little cuties,” Odelia cooed. “Sweet sweeties. Did your mama leave you? Couldn’t she take care of you? Don’t you worry about a thing. Odelia is here and she’s going to make sure nothing bad happens to you.” And then she googoogaga’d some more.

I could sense that smarter heads needed to prevail here, so I addressed Kitten Number One, the whizz kid.

“Hey, you,” I said, inserting a note of steel into my voice.

The kitten didn’t even look up from sniffing at its own wee.

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I know you can.”

The kitten finally looked up, opening its mouth and mewling questioningly.

“There are rules in this house,” I said. “And you’d better follow them or else.”

It was mewling softly now, opening and closing its little mouth.

“Or else what, you ask? Or else I’ll tan your tiny little hide, that’s what.”

“Max!” Odelia cried behind me. “That’s no way to speak to our new guests.”

“But—”

“Apologize.”

I must admit my jaw had dropped at these harsh words from one I’d always known to be in my corner. The kitten fever had clearly taken a hold of my human, and had altered her personality to such an extent she was now a different human altogether.

“I’m sorry,” I told the kitten begrudgingly.

“And now say it like you mean it,” said Odelia.

“Okay, I’m sorry, all right!” I cried, then stalked off. Or at least I started stalking off, but then my tail got snagged in some immovable object and my progress was halted. When I abruptly swung my head around to see what had snagged me, I saw that it was the kitten, which had planted itself firmly astride my tail and was now playing with the tail’s tail end, which invariably tends to sway as if possessing a mind of its own.

“Stop that,” I snapped, but the kitten seemed to enjoy the swishing movement so much it kept grabbing at my fluffy appendage.

“Max,” said Odelia warningly.

“Stop that, please?” I asked.

But then the kitten suddenly dug its teeth into my tail and I screamed,“Yikes!”

“Max!” Odelia said. “Don’t be rude!”

“But she just bit me in the tail!”

“She’s just playing,” she said, then picked up my little nemesis, and checked her. “So you think she’s a she?”

“Of course she’s a she. Don’t you think a cat can tell whether another cat is a he or a she?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. Here,” she said, planting the other two kittens in front of me. “Tell me what they are.”

I scowled at the foul creatures, then pointed at the black one.“He,” I said. Then pointed at the white one. “He.”

“Thanks, Max,” said Odelia, and picked up all three kittens. “Now for the most important part. What shall we name them? Any suggestions?”

She was rocking them in her arms now, even though they tried to squirm away.

My suggestion was Menace Number One, Menace Number Two and Menace Number Three, but something told me Odelia might not agree with my naming convention. So instead I said,“Why don’t you ask Gran? She named the rest of us.”

Odelia nodded.“Great idea. I’ll ask her.”

I didn’t know if this was such a good idea, for Gran has a habit of picking names from the soaps she watches. I was named after Max Halloran, a doctor onGeneral Hospital who was accused of fathering triplets with his mother’s twin sister’s mobster fianc?’s younger sister’s best friend. And Dooley could trace the origin of his name to a casting director onThe Bold and the Beautiful.Harriet, on the other hand, was named afterHarriet the Spy, apparently a book Odelia’s mom had always liked.

Brutus, of course, had been named by Chase’s mom, his original owner. I have no idea what inspired her, but Brutus has always been a butch cat, so the name seemed apt.

The kittens, meanwhile, had managed to tumble back onto the kitchen counter, and were now digging their teeth into the carton box, ripping it into tiny pieces and spreading it across the floor like confetti.

I had to bite my tongue not to make a scathing remark about littering, but managed to restrain myself with a powerful effort. This was, after all, Odelia’s house, and if she felt like raising a trio of hell-raisers, that was her prerogative.

I vowed, however, that the moment she turned her back I was going to do some serious schooling of my own. I like to run a tight ship when she’s not around, and I intended to keep it that way.

Chapter 3

Odelia could have stayed with the little cuties all morning, but unfortunately she had to go to work. By then, Chase was up, his alarm clock having launched into a cheerful rendition of Pharrell Williams’sHappy, and the hunky cop had woken up with a groan.

When she arrived at the top of the stairs, she was greeted by the pleasant scene of Chase sitting up in bed and stretching. The man was built like a tank, and even though she’d already seen him sans T-shirt many times since their first meeting, it was still a sight for sore eyes. Her eyes weren’t sore now, though. Instead, they were sparkling.

“What’s with the racket?” asked Chase now as she stepped into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed to feast her eyes on the man’s perfect physique from up close.

“Oh, just three kittens left in a box on my doorstep,” she explained.

He did a double take.“Wait, what now?”

She nodded.“Yup. Someone left three kittens outside, with a note asking me to take care of them. Oh, Chase, you should see them. They’re just the cutest little babies!”

“Kittens,” he said, as if she’d just announced the world was ending. “Three of them.”

“I would have brought them up but I didn’t know if you were awake yet.”

He was awake now, that much was obvious. Awake and not entirely happy about this turn of events. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again, as if hoping this had all been a bad dream.“So you’re telling me you’ve decided to adopt three more cats?”

“I haven’t adopted them,” she specified. “Someone left them on my doorstep.”

He laughed an incredulous laugh.“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping them, are you?”

She experienced a slight diminution of the love and affection she felt for him from the moment he’d walked into her life. “I haven’t decided yet. Why? Don’t you like kittens?”

Chase hesitated. He could probably sense he’d just stepped on a potential landmine that was about to go off at the slightest provocation. Ever so carefully, he said, “You already have four cats. Three more makes seven. That’s seven cats. Four plus three. Seven.”

“Your grasp on basic math is astounding, Chase,” she said. “Yes, seven cats, divided over two homes, makes three-and-a-half cats per home. I know people that have a dozen cats.” She didn’t add that she personally felt that a dozen cats was a little ambitious for any homeowner, even if they adored the furry creatures. She wanted to gauge Chase’s response.

He blinked and gulped.“A dozen.”

She nodded cheerfully.“A dozen cats. And a happy home it is, too.”

“A dozen cats,” he muttered, and started to shake his head. Then he paused mid-shake, and gave her an odd look. “Today isn’t April Fool’s, is it?”

Her lips tightened.“No, today isn’t April Fool’s. And I don’t understand what the big deal is. Seven cats is nothing. Besides, like I said, I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep them or not.” Though she was starting to lean towards adopting them if Chase kept this up.

“Think about it,” he said, holding up an admonishing hand. “Think hard. I mean, there might be other families that want to adopt a cat. In fact there may be three families out there, extremely keen to adopt a cute little kitty and you hogging all three of them would put those families in a state of deep, profound sadness. Don’t be a hogger, babe.”

He had a point, of course. She couldn’t very well hog all the cats in Hampton Cove. That simply wouldn’t be fair.

And she would have discussed the ins and outs of cat adoption in more detail if Chase’s phone hadn’t developed suicidal tendencies and leaped from the nightstand when it started buzzing frantically. He picked it up and grunted, “It’s your uncle,” then answered by growling, “Yeah, Alec.” He listened for a moment, then raised his eyes to Odelia, and nodded. “I’ll bethere in five.” When he disconnected, he gave her a quizzical look. “Mh.”

“What is it?” She knew that look. Something had happened. Something bad.

“It’s Jeb Pott,” he said, scratching his ear.

“The actor? What about him?”

“He’s just been arrested.”

“Arrested? What did he do this time? Joyriding? Drunk and disorderly?” The famous actor was, in spite of his age, still a bad boy personified, and had been wreaking havoc across town for the past couple of weeks now. If he wasn’t speeding through downtown Hampton Cove, spooking senior citizens, he could be found passed out in the local park, having succumbed to an abundance of vodka or some other intoxicant, liquid or powdered.

But Chase was slowly shaking his head.“This time he’s really done it.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Chase. What did he do?”

Jeb Pott was one of her favorite actors—possiblythe favorite actor of every woman her age—and to watch him self-destruct had hurt and annoyed Odelia a great deal.

“He’s murdered his ex-wife. Your uncle just found her body in his lodge, the knife in his bed, her blood on his hands.”

Chapter 4

I’d joined Odelia as she drove out to the house where Jeb Pott lived, and so had Dooley, my best friend and part-time housemate. Chase had taken his own pickup and was leading the way, with Odelia following close behind.

“So who is this Jeb Pott?” asked Dooley now.

“He’s a world-famous actor,” said Odelia.

She looked unhappy at this turn of events, and I didn’t wonder. She loves Jeb Pott and has seen every picture the man has ever made, from his humble arthouse movie beginnings to his blockbuster turn as swashbuckler in the remake ofCaptain Blood. The man isn’t merely a star. He’s a megastar. Or at least was, until his recent disastrous divorce.

“We’ve seen him, remember, Dooley?” I said. “He played Captain Blood inCaptain Blood. They call him the new Errol Flynn.”

“Oh, right,” said Dooley, though it was obvious he had no idea what I was talking about. The sight of three kittens cavorting about our living room had startled Dooley as much as it had me, and this had shortened his attention span which now made him tune out to some extent. Dooley’s mind is such that it can only hold two ideas at the same time, and right now it was overrun with images of kittens dangling from the curtains, swinging from the ceiling lights, cavorting on the kitchen counter, and peeing in Odelia’s flowerpots.

“I like him,” said Odelia. “I like him a lot. I think he’s one of the most talented actors of his generation, or any generation, for that matter. He’s always been one of my favorites, until…” She dug her teeth into her lower lip.

“Until the divorce,” I said in a low voice.

She nodded and gripped her steering wheel a little tighter.“Until the divorce,” she said quietly.

Jeb Pott’s career could be divided into two distinct periods: the slow rise to the absolute pinnacle of fame and glory, and his post-divorce period, when his star power had begun to wane and he’d gone from hero to zero in the space of a few short weeks.

His ex-wife Camilla Kirby had filed for divorce on the grounds of domestic violence, cruelty and substance abuse and had shown the proof by parading in front of the world media with a big purple bruise on her cheek, the result of an encounter with Jeb’s fist.

Jeb had claimed foul play and said she’d made up both bruise and abuse, but by then it was too late, the actor’s reputation irreparably damaged, and turned into a pariah by the same Tinseltown that had hailed him as its most popular star only a few short weeks before.

“Oh, how fickle fame is,” I said softly.

“So what happened to this Jeb Pott?” asked Dooley.

“He allegedly beat his wife, and now he allegedly murdered her,” I said.

“Nothing alleged about it,” said Odelia. “Camille Kirby is dead and Jeb was practically covered in her blood, the murder weapon lying next to him on the bed, his prints all over it.” She was shaking her head. “I find this very hard to believe. How could he…” Her voice caught and she haltingly said, in a strange, wobbly tone, “I took his side, you know. In the divorce circus? I thought she was lying. And now this.”

I shook my head sadly. Human drama. It never fails to grip. It’s just so much more poignant than feline drama, don’t you think? Just look at all the soap operas. Or have you ever seen a soap about cats pulling each other’s hair? Then again, cats don’t often buy soap, so daytime TV doesn’t have that much of an incentive to target them as their audience.

Chase’s pickup pulled off the road and stopped in front of a wooden gate. A cop was parked in front of it, and when he saw Chase he held up his hand in greeting and used a button on a keypad next to the gate. He spoke into the intercom and the gate swung open.

Outside the gate, a dozen news vans were parked, with two dozen reporters, camera crew and photographers trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening beyond that gate.

When we arrived and were waved through, they started snapping pictures of Odelia and Chase and even me and Dooley. I grinned.“There are going to be a lot of editors in a lot of newsrooms across the country wondering what two cats are doing visiting the crime scene of one of the world’s most famous actors.”

“They’re probably also wondering why I’m the only reporter allowed to enter the place,” said Odelia, who didn’t seem to enjoy being photographed by her colleagues as much as I’d expected. Then again, Odelia is not used to being at the center of attention. Usually she’s the one out there, snapping pictures of the stars driving by in their limos.

“At least you didn’t bring the kittens along,” said Dooley, harping on the same theme that had occupied his mind from the moment we’d left the house.

“They’re too young to travel,” said Odelia absentmindedly as she slipped her car into a parking spot, then unfastened her seatbelt and turned to us. “So you know what to do, right?”

“Relax,” I said. “We’re old paws at this by now.”

“Old paws,” said Dooley, chuckling. “Funny.”

Odelia smiled.“Great. Go get them, boys.”

Our task, if we chose to accept it, which we did, was to gather background information, and talk to any creature that might have seen something, heard something, sniffed something, or generally had information and a unique perspective to impart. It provided Odelia with those telling details that made her stories so vivid and unique.

So we set off in the direction of the lodge that was the hub of activity, crime scene people and cops buzzing about like so many flies, and vowed to make Odelia proud.

Chapter 5

It was with a heavy heart that Odelia took out her notebook. Normally she loved reporting on crime and spinning an entertaining yarn for her readers, but this particular case had struck close to home. She’d been a fan of Jeb’s for as long as she could remember, and this murder suddenly painted her hero in a very unfavorable light indeed. Could it be that Jeb wasn’t the quirky, talented actor she’d come to adore but a murdering psychopath instead?

Uncle Alec came walking out of the small lodge. He looked stricken, and held up a meaty paw when he saw her.“Better don’t go in there, honey. It’s not a pretty sight.”

She nodded.“Where is Jeb?”

“We took him away already. He’s cooling his heels in the lockup.”

“Are you sure he did it?” she asked. It was the question that had been at the forefront of her mind ever since Chase had delivered the shocking news.

“No doubt about it,” her uncle grumbled with a sad look on his hangdog face. At fifty-four, Alec Lip’s face displayed the mileage he’d racked up as the town’s chief of police and then some. His wispy gray hair was plastered to his skull as usual, and he hadn’t shaved yet, probably having been called out of bed and having driven straight there.

“And is it… Camilla Kirby?”

He nodded dourly.“No doubt about that, either. She has so many stab wounds it looks like Jeb must have been in a murderous frenzy.” He shook his head again. “Terrible business. Just terrible,” he muttered.

“Maybe someone else did it and is trying to put the blame on Jeb?”

Her uncle gave her a skeptical look.“The knife was right next to him on the bed, his prints all over it. Her blood on his hands and clothes. Almost as if he’d been bathing in it. We even found her blood in his ears. I’m sorry, honey, but Jeb Pott is guilty as hell.”

“But what was Camilla doing out here? I thought they were divorced.”

“They were. All we know for certain right now is that she took a flight out here from LA late last night, then took a taxi here. She arrived at exactly…” He took out his notebook. “Three forty-five.”

“Middle of the night.”

“Uh-huh. The taxi driver told me he warned her about getting out of his cab in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere but she was unconcerned. Giddy, even, according to his statement. As if she couldn’t wait to meet…”

“Jeb,” said Odelia quietly. “So who else lives here?”

“Place belongs to Jeb’s other ex-wife. Helena Grace. She’s lived here with their daughter Fae for the past fifteen years.”

“It’s the house Jeb bought when he and Helena moved here from Rome.”

“Is that right?” said Uncle Alec, looking amused at being upstaged.

“Jeb and Helena met twenty-five years ago in Italy. He was filming a movie out there and she had a small part. She played his nurse, tasked with nursing him back to health after his fighter jet was shot down by the Germans. It was a World War II drama.”

“Right,” he said. “Anyway, the front gate can only be opened either from the main house, where Helena and her daughter live, or from the lodge, where Jeb was staying.”

“So Camilla arrived at the gate, Jeb let her in and…”

“Killed her, yeah. Must have happened soon after she arrived. Abe puts time of death around four o’clock.”

“Who called it in?” she asked as she surveyed the frenzied scene. A stretcher was now being carried out, and she turned away her head. She might be there to report on a crime but that didn’t mean she reveled in this kind of death and mayhem. She could write a good article without mentioning all the gore other reporters seemed to salivate over.

“That’s the weirdest thing,” said Uncle Alec, scratching his scalp with his pencil. “Anonymous phone call. Neighbor walking his dog at the time of the murder. Said he heard a scream and took a closer look. Said he saw a man attacking a woman. So he called it in.”

“No idea who the witness is?”

“No idea. Which isn’t unusual,” he hastened to say when he saw her skeptical expression. “Some people just don’t want to get involved in anything to do with the police.”

“So he actually saw the murder—actually saw Jeb murder his ex-wife?”

“Uh-huh.” He groped around for his reading glasses. “Where are the darn things?” he grumbled. Odelia plucked them from the top of his head where he’d just put them and he gave her a grateful grin. “Thanks, hon.” He frowned at his notes. “Here it is. Caller said he heard a woman scream bloody murder. Said a man who looked like Jeb Pott attacked her.”

“So there’s a witness to the murder,” she said, deflating. She’d hoped against hope that Jeb was innocent, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was guilty.

“I’d be more satisfied if I could talk to this witness, of course,” said Uncle Alec. “But with all the evidence we have right now there’s no doubt Jeb Pott will be convicted of murdering his ex-wife in cold blood.” He lowered his voice. “We also found a ton of cocaine in the house, along with at least a dozen other illegal substances and crates full of hard liquor and booze. If all this stuff shows up on Jeb’s tox screen the guy was high as a kite when he did what he did. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing.”

Odelia nodded. More proof that the stories of Jeb’s substance abuse were true.

“Honestly, Odelia, this is a guy who went all Charles Manson on that poor woman. She never stood a chance. The moment she walked into this lodge she was a dead woman.”

Chapter 6

Dooley and I idly inspected the terrain that surrounded the lodge. It mainly consisted of ferns, wild geraniums and different types of grasses. It all looked very inviting for a nap.

“I don’t like it, Max,” said Dooley, using one of his favorite phrases.

“I don’t like it either,” I intimated. “This Jeb guy is a terrific actor. I thought he was great inCaptain Blood and those westerns. I never get tired of watching his movies.”

“I don’t mean Jeb,” said Dooley. “It’s the kittens. I don’t think I like them very much.”

“Which is only natural,” I assured him. “Nobody likes kittens, Dooley. Except humans, of course.”

“Odelia likes them.”

“Case in point. That’s because kittens have a tendency to play on humans’ heartstrings. They tug those strings so hard they leave those poor humans giddy with affection and a distinct sense of dubious attachment to the furry little creatures.”

“They’re very rude,” said Dooley. “And they don’t respect us older cats.”

“No, they don’t.”

Even before we’d left the house to go on this fact-finding mission with Odelia, the threesome had used my water bowl to dunk a paper ball into and had emptied out my bowl of Cat Snax. And when Odelia had refilled my bowl, and had placed three smaller bowls, one for each kitten, they’d finished their own bowls then mine in one fell swoop!

“No respect at all,” I agreed with my buddy.

“They’re taking over the house, Max. They’re even peeing in the corners, marking off their territory—our territory!”

“I know,” I sighed. “But what can we do? Odelia loves them to death—even though she only met them this morning.”

“We need to teach them some manners, Max. Teach them to respect their elders.”

“I know, but Odelia strictly forbade me to do exactly that.”

“But we can’t just let them walk all over us!” he cried, indicating just how riled up he was. Dooley is usually a very peaceable cat, and this proved how he was being pushed to the brink and beyond by our unexpected guests, just like I was. “Maybe we should send in Brutus to deal with the three little brutes,” Dooley said now. “Or Harriet—or both!”

I gave this some thought. There was no doubt Dooley had made a valid point. Neither Harriet or Brutus had been cautioned by Odelia. Yet. So they were officially in the clear, able to admonish to their heart’s content. And frankly speaking Brutus could be very severe if he wanted to be, and so could Harriet. If I were a kitten and I saw Harriet or Brutus coming—or both—I’d be afraid. I’d be very, very afraid.

Bucked up by these uplifting thoughts, I discovered we’d reached the back of the small lodge. A pile of discarded and empty glass bottles was lying there, testament to the preference for alcoholic beverages of the lodge’s current occupant. Beyond the pile of bottles an ashtray rested on a bench, overflowing with weirdly shaped cigarette butts.

“Why do humans smoke and drink so much, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Beats me,” I said.

“They possess a tendency towards self-destruction, don’t they?”

“You can say that again.”

“They possess a tendency towards self-destruction, don’t they?”

“I didn’t mean literally repeat—oh, never mind,” I said. I’d spotted a tiny birdie sitting and singing in a nearby tree and padded over to take a closer look at this fluffy little friend.

On the whole, the relationship between cats and birds is fraught with a certain tension. Birds, as a rule, don’t like cats. Probably because cats, as a species, tend to eat birds. Not that I’m one of those cats, per se. Odelia taught us a long time ago that sometimes we need to sink the savage feline into the civilized feline, and has strictly forbidden us from ever taking a feathered life.

“Yoo-hoo, birdie,” I said now.

The bird glanced down in our direction, did a visible double take, blanched to the root of its downy gray feathers, and fluttered off as fast as its tiny wings could carry it.

“Too bad,” I said.

“What is, Max?”

“That birds take this instant dislike to us just because we’re cats.”

“It’s anti-cat bias,” Dooley agreed.

As far as I could tell, no other feathered creatures were anywhere nearby, and I was about to give up this fact-finding mission as a dud when I saw that a young woman came walking in our direction through a small patch of gray birch trees. There was a path there that led straight from the house to this lodge, and she was bouncing down it at a brisk pace. She vaguely resembled Jeb, and I wondered if she was in any way related to the actor.

When she came upon us, she smiled prettily.“Oh, hey, you two cuties. I’ve never seen you here before.” She crouched down next to us, and tickled me behind the ear, then rubbed Dooley’s head, then scratched me under the chin. In response, we both closed our eyes and started purring up a storm. Now here was a human to whom I took an instant shine. Pro-human bias, I guess. And we were still purring when Odelia rounded the lodge and came into view. When she saw us fraternizing with another human, she smiled.

“I see you’ve met my cats.”

“Oh, are these two sweeties yours? They’re so cute!” the girl said. Then she seemed to sober and rose to her feet. “You’re Odelia Poole, aren’t you?”

Odelia seemed surprised to be recognized.“Yes, I am. Have we met?”

“Not in person. I love your articles for the Gazette, and I’ve seen your picture.” She glanced around. “Um, I need to ask you a favor, Miss Poole.”

“Odelia. And you are…”

“Oh, sorry. How rude of me.” The girl thrust out a slender hand that was attached to a slim arm, which was connected to a willowy body. “My name is Fae. I’m Jeb’s daughter.”

“Oh, of course,” said Odelia, shaking the girl’s hand.

She was probably all of seventeen, or maybe even sixteen, and looked very young and very pretty. Striking large eyes and a pale heart-shaped face with high cheekbones.

“I know what you must be thinking,” said Fae. “My father did the most unspeakable thing. But I can assure you that he didn’t do what they’re accusing him of, Odelia.”

“He didn’t?”

The girl shook her head decidedly.“My daddy would never murder anyone. He couldn’t hurt a fly.” She took a deep breath. “Which is why I want you to find out who’s framing him for murder. I want you to find out and then I want you to tell the police who the real murderer is.” She took out her wallet before Odelia could reply, and pressed a small wad of green bills into her hand. “Consider this an advance for future services rendered. I’ll pay you whatever you want, but please, Miss Poole,” she said, and clasped Odelia’s arm, fixing her with a pleading look. “Please please please clear my father’s name?”

Chapter 7

Odelia didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know if…” she began.

“Oh, I know you’re not a private detective—not a licensed one, anyway. But I also know that you’ve helped the police solve countless murders, and that you’re very good at what you do. If there’s one person who can clear my daddy’s name it’s you, Miss Poo—I mean Odelia. So please, please, please, please, please take me on as your client?”

“Like you said, I’m not a detective, Fae,” said Odelia. “I’m a reporter, so…”

“But youhave to find out what really happened. You justhave to. My daddy—hecan’t be in jail. He’s not going to last a week—even a day. He’s a sensitive soul—a poet and a tender-hearted man. He simply won’tsurvive if he’s locked up in that dreadful place.”

Odelia remembered her uncle’s description of the murder scene and thought that Jeb Pott was anything but a tender-hearted soul. More like a crazed killer.

“Fae, even if I wanted to, I don’t have the skillset to—”

“Oh, but you do! I’ve read all your articles, and I’ve heard all the stories. Mom says you’re an ace detective and you’re the one who’s solved all those murders, not the police—and definitely not your uncle. You and only you have been solving crime in this town.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Odelia. “The thing is, to do what you’re asking me to do—to investigate Camilla Kirby’s murder, and to take you on as a client…” She hesitated.

A look of distress had crossed the girl’s face. It was obvious she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Odelia decided just to say it.“I’m not entirely convinced your father is innocent, Fae.”

The girl had gripped Odelia’s arm again. She had a firm grasp, in spite of her thin frame. So thin Odelia thought she might be a model. She remembered reading something about Jeb launching her in that industry when she was fifteen. Or she could be confusing her with another celebrity’s daughter. “Oh, but I’ll convince you. Why do you think he did it?”

“Well, for one thing, he’s the only one out here—staying in this lodge. No traces have been found of anyone else inside the cabin.”

“The killer could have worn rubber-soled shoes and have entered the cabin while my daddy was asleep.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why Camilla’s blood is all over your father’s clothes, and why the knife is covered in his fingerprints.” She decided to neglect to mention the part about blood in Jeb’s ear, where it must have splattered when he murdered his ex-wife.

“The killer could easily have smeared that blood on Daddy while he was asleep, and planted the knife in his bed,” she insisted stubbornly.

All true, Odelia agreed, and was surprised to find the girl’s thoughts following her own so closely. “But there’s a witness, Fae. A witness who saw what happened.”

“A witness?” The girl frowned.

“Yes, this witness saw your father arguing with Camilla and then attacking her. He’s the one who called the police. He’s the reason they showed up here so fast and were able to arrest your father.” Before he could get rid of the body and cover his tracks.

“So who is this witness? Have the police told you his name?”

“They don’t know his name. He doesn’t want to come forward. The only thing we know about him is that he was walking his dog.”

“Here? Inside the gate?”

“Out on the street.”

The girl laughed.“Oh, but don’t you see?! He’s lying! There’s no way you can look in from the street. There’s the fence, and it’s overgrown with weeds and whatever. So this witness must be the real killer—he’s the one trying to blame this whole thing on Daddy!”

“I don’t know…” said Odelia, wishing those reporters would take a hike so she could take a look at that fence herself. Fae had a point. How could this witness have looked through the lodge’s window if the entire place was fenced off?

Fae clasped Odelia’s hands in hers. “Oh, won’t you help me? My daddy is innocent. Absolutely innocent. He didn’t kill Camilla. I’m one hundred percent sure he didn’t.”

Odelia studied Jeb’s daughter, who stood looking at her with a pleading expression on her face, practically willing her to take the case. But she decided she simply couldn’t. So she handed back the cash. “I’m so sorry, Fae, but I can’t. Like I said, I’m not a detective.”

A mutinous look came over the girl’s face. It was obvious she was used to getting what she wanted.

“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m just a silly little girl who loves her daddy so much she’d do anything to save him—even if he’s guilty of murder. But I’m not. I’m not an innocent little girl. I know what’s out there in the world. I’ve seen evil and I know what it looks like. I’m a model, you see, and I’ve come across my fair share of predators and monsters in this business. I’ve looked into their eyes and seen the depravity and the horror and the lechery. And I’ve looked into my father’s eyes and seen nothing but love and tenderness and kindness. He’s a true innocent, and that’s why he finds it so hard to live in this world sometimes. People can be cruel, Odelia. Very, very cruel.” And with these words, she abruptly turned on her heel and strode off back in the direction of the manor house.

“That was tough,” said Max, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the exchange.

“Yeah, very tough,” Odelia agreed. “But I can’t take Fae’s money. She wants me to prove her father’s innocence, and I can’t. Because he did it, Max. Jeb Pott is a murderer. He’s a brutal cold-hearted killer and I’m not going to try and prove otherwise.”

Chapter 8

Frankly I didn’t see what else there was for us to do out there. We’d tried to talk to a potential witness, who’d taken flight the moment he or she laid eyes on us, and now we were simply cooling our heels wasting time while the kittens were probably tearing the house apart back home. But Odelia was still snooping around, and I didn’t feel like pawing it all the way home, instead opting to wait until Odelia was finished and gave us a lift.

And since we were out there anyway, with nothing to do, we decided to take a turn around the grounds and take in the scenery. To be absolutely honest I also wanted to take a closer look at that ginormous mansion at the end of the driveway. It is my experience, borne out by years of associating with humans, that people who own mansions often have pets, and those pets are more often than not pampered little creatures who enjoy the very best in gourmet food that money can buy. And since I was getting a little peckish—not to mention that the kittens had stolen my food—I thought it was only fair to take a peek and maybe even a bite in yonder pet haven.

And so wander yonder we did, and soon found ourselves rounding the house and looking for a way into the kitchen, where, once again according to my extensive experience, often cat food can be found—or even dog food. At that juncture it didn’t do to be picky.

The deck rose into view and we moved over to check it out. And that’s when we found the same girl who’d approached Odelia with her incredible proposition, crying her heart out. She wasn’t crying in little sobs either but in big gulping gulps, wailing away.

“Poor girl,” said Dooley.

“Yeah. It’s not her fault her dad is a homicidal maniac who murders women for fun.”

“Maybe Odelia should have taken on her case?”

“Maybe. Though from what I can gather he’s guilty, Dooley. And it’s very hard to prove that a guilty man didn’t do it. Nor should Odelia even have to try. Guilty people belong in jail.” That’s what Odelia has always taught us and it’s what I truly believe.

“Do you think Fae wants Odelia to prove that her dad didn’t do it even if he did?”

“Looked that way to me. She just wants her daddy back, whether he’s guilty or not.”

We both glanced up at the teenager, who still sat there heaving big wailing gulps of breath, from time to time pausing to blow her nose in a stack of Kleenex she kept on hand.

A woman who slightly resembled Fae came walking out of the house and placed her arm around the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s all right, honey. Everything will be all right.”

“No, it won’t, Mom!” the girl cried, shaking off her mother’s arm. “Things will never be all right again. Never ever ever!”

And then she practically leaped into the house, leaving her mother looking distraught and worried. The mom picked up a tissue for herself and blew her nose. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked like she’d been crying herself.

“This man has broken so many hearts,” said Dooley, shaking his head.

A little fluffy doggie came tripping out of the house. The moment it saw us it stood there, panting slightly, vibrating on its tiny paws, as if it had never seen a pair of cats before.

“Hey there, dog,” I said, hoping it wouldn’t start barking and acting mad like most dogs do when they come across a cat.

It gave one sharp bark and Fae’s mother looked up. When she saw us, she smiled. “What are you sweethearts doing here?” She came over and crouched down next to us. “You look like you belong to someone,” she said, gently stroking my fur. “You’re too nice-looking and well-groomed to be feral cats.”

I did the purring thing again, and so did Dooley when the woman extended the same courtesy to him.

The doggie had cocked its head in our direction and stood staring with a strange look on its face. It probably wasn’t used to seeing his human engage with a pair of cats.

“You know, Max,” said Dooley now as he cast a glance at the pile of tissues on the table. “Maybe we have to convince Odelia to take on this case anyway.”

“I’m starting to think so, too,” I said as the woman suddenly burst into tears and some of those tears splashed across my head like the dewy rain.

I sneezed and she cried some more.

“She’s clearly heart-broken and so is her daughter,” said Dooley. “I don’t think humans would cry so much over a man if that man was a murderous maniacal monster.”

“You’re right,” I said. The plight of these women touched my heart. And so did the bowl of food Fae’s mom pushed in our direction and from which I was taking hearty bites.

So we’re cats. We fall in love with any human that feeds us.

The woman finally disappeared into the house, presumably to look for her daughter, and then it was just us and the dog, whom I’d identified as a Bichon Fris? dog, one of those hairy white creatures that look like a walking ball of fluff.

“What do you think, dog?” I asked around a mouth filled with kibble.

“You do know that’s my food you’re eating, right?” said the dog, head still cocked and giving us sour looks.

“And very tasty it is, too,” said Dooley. “Thank you, dog.”

“The name is Sasha, and I’d say you’re welcome if I’d had a choice in the matter. As it is, my human seems to like you, so I will not bite you in the ankles. I repeat, I will not bite you in the ankles.”

“Very kind of you,” I said.

“I probably should, though,” said Sasha, indicating we were not in the clear yet. So I took a few quick bites, just in case she changed her mind and went for my ankles anyway. Although, do cats even have ankles? “It’s in the dog rulebook, you know,” Sasha continued.

“What is?” I asked.

“When confronted with an invading feline, go for the ankles. Printed right there in black and white.”

“Right,” I said. Of all the dogs in the world, we had to come across a fanatic and a rule follower. “So what can you tell us about Jeb Pott and the woman he murdered?”

“Yes, do you believe Jeb did it or that he was framed, like Fae seems to think?” Dooley added.

“I like Jeb,” said Sasha. “He’s a decent human being. He once took me to New Zealand on a trip. Only I got kicked out by some politician on account of the fact that I’d neglected to bring along my passport.” She shrugged. “Humans. They’re just weird.”

“Tell us about it,” said Dooley.

At least we agreed on one thing.

“So no, if I’m absolutely honest, I don’t think Jeb could ever murder Camilla.”

“Wait, you knew Camilla?” I asked.

“Sure. I was hers and Jeb’s when they were married. But after the divorce there was so much lawyerly fuss that Jeb decided to give me to Helena and Fae, so here I am.”

“What about Camilla? Didn’t she want you?”

“Not sure, actually. There was some legal wrangling, and the lawyers decided that nothing was decided until everything was decided. About the divorce, I mean. And by then I’d become so accustomed to living here that I’m actually happy nothing was decided.”

It all sounded pretty complicated, and I could tell from the strange look on Dooley’s face he had a hard time following the story, too. But regardless, one thing clearly stood out: here sat yet another individual who was familiar with Jeb and believed he was innocent.

“But then how do you explain what happened?” I asked.

Sasha shrugged.“I can’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a lapdog, not a member of a K9 unit. But what I can tell you is that Jeb had a lot of enemies, and I wouldn’t put it past them to pull a dirty trick like this on him.”

“Or on Camilla,” I said. After all, she was the one who was dead right now.

“Or Camilla,” agreed Sasha.

I shared a meaningful look with Dooley.“I think we need to have a long talk with our human, Dooley,” I said.

“I think so, too,” he agreed.

And then we took some more kibble. What? My mother always taught me never to skip a free meal. And I’m nothing if not a momma’s cat.

Chapter 9

Odelia was in her office, typing up her piece on the Camilla Kirby murder, when her boss walked in. Dan Goory, a white-bearded pint-sized man, had been running the Hampton Cove Gazette for so long now people identified him with it. He’d started the paper back in the stone age, and had kept it running all this time, single-handedly writing most of the copy, until he’d started looking for someone to help him lighten his load, and had found, after a lot of trial and error, the right person in Odelia. Her predecessors hadn’t fared as well as she had, but their amicable collaboration had been so successful that there was even talk now of her taking over the paper if or when Dan would finally decide to retire.

She hoped that day would never come, for she knew that running a paper was a different beast from filling its pages with newsworthy stories. As it was, Dan took care of the business side as well as the editing and she was free to write articles people enjoyed to read.

“So Jeb Pott, huh?” said Dan now, in his low gravelly voice, courtesy of smoking a pack a day for years, even though he’d now stopped—doctor’s orders. “Who would have thunk?”

“Not me,” said Odelia, raising her hands from the keyboard and lacing her fingers behind her head. “In fact I was more than a little shocked to hear it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dan admitted. “Even though Pott is an amateur compared to greats like Olivier and Gielgud.”

“Who?” said Odelia with a slight grin.

“Oh, you barbarian.” He paused, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. Today he’d opted for a heliotrope shirt with yellow suspenders, and looked very snazzy. “So what do you reckon? Did he do it?”

“Looks like,” said Odelia. “At least that’s what the police think.”

“We both know the police aren’t always right.”

“We do know that, but this time I think they are.” She ticked off the items on her fingers. “A witness saw the murder—actually witnessed the murder and called it in. Camilla’s blood was all over Jeb, and his prints all over the knife. And he’d invited her to come visit.”

“But why? What was he hoping to accomplish?”

“As far as Uncle Alec could tell from the text messages on her phone he was looking for a reconciliation. He said he still loved her and couldn’t stop thinking about her in spite of the divorce, and he wanted to try and heal the rift and put the past behind them.”

“And apparently she felt the same way or else she wouldn’t have flown all the way out here to see him.”

“Apparently.”

They were both silent for a beat, then Dan rapped the door with his knuckle and said,“Keep up the good work, Poole, and write me a killer article, will you? I have a feeling this might be our biggest issue yet.”

“Will do, sir,” she said dutifully, and bent over her laptop to pound out the rest of her article. She looked up when the outer door to the office swung open and the bell jangled.

“Where is my granddaughter?” a familiar voice rasped. “I demand to see my granddaughter!”

“In here, Gran!” she yelled.

Her grandmother came striding into the office. She was out of breath, and had twin circles of crimson dotting her cheeks. The elderly woman was wearing her large-framed glasses, had her hair done up in tiny white curls, and as usual looked the spitting image of a sweet old lady, ready to dole out candy to kids. In actual fact she was anything but sweet. Vesta Muffin could be pretty caustic if she wanted to be, and she often wanted to be.

“What’s all this nonsense about you going out on a case and not inviting me along?” she demanded, planting her fists on Odelia’s desk and leaning over so far her head was almost touching her granddaughter’s.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Odelia quipped, but Gran wasn’t having any of it.

“You know as well as I do that a true flogger, in order to be successful, needs to upload fresh content all the time.” She tapped the desk impatiently. “I need you to let me in on this case, Odelia. I’ve lost so many followers over this Yellow Parka MacGyver Gang fiasco it’s not pretty. Ineed a big hit—pronto!”

“Don’t you mean vlogging?”

“That’s what I said. Flogging. I need this, Odelia. I need this bad.”

“You sound just like my boss,” said Odelia. But Gran was eyeing her so intently she quickly relented. “All right, all right, you can tag along. But there’s no case this time, Gran. Just a murder to cover for the paper.”

“What do you mean there’s no case? A woman was murdered, right?”

“Yes, she was, but Alec already caught the killer.”

“So fast? That’s impossible!”

“It was Jeb Pott. He was caught practically red-handed. Literally, actually.”

“Oh, darn it. I liked that kid.”

Odelia refrained from mentioning that that kid was a fifty-five-year-old man. Instead, she said,“So you see? There is no case. No murder to solve. No killer to catch.”

Gran plunked down on the chair opposite hers.“At least let me interview Jeb Pott. Big star like him—my follower count will shoot through the roof.”

“What do you care how many followers you have?” Odelia asked. She didn’t understand this obsession with followers. At all.

“I need to beat Scarlett Canyon,” Gran said, looking grim now. “That jerk has started flogging, too, and she’s got more followers in one week than me in a month.”

“She’s also fighting crime now?” asked Odelia, wondering when this enmity between her grandmother and Scarlett Canyon would finally be over. All of Hampton Cove would sleep more easily when it was.

“She’s giving beauty tips,” said Gran, frowning darkly. “Which in her case means sitting in front of a camera wriggling her cleavage and pretending to know something about cosmetics. Next thing I know she’ll be doing a striptease act. Anything to get more followers.” Catching Odelia’sinquisitive look, she added, “The more followers you have the more chances of landing one of those lucrative influencer deals. L’Or?al or Lanc?me will pay big bucks to push their products on the channels of people with lots and lots of followers.”

“They won’t be pushing L’Or?al on a YouTube channel about murder.”

“Of course not, silly. But then Scarlett isn’t on YouTube. She’s on Instagram. But it’s the thought that counts. I can’t let her best me, so I need more followers. Otherwise she’ll never let me live it down.”

Scarlett Canyon and Gran had been mortal enemies ever since Gran caught her doing the horizontal mambo on her kitchen table with Grandpa Jack. Things had gone from bad to worse ever since, especially since Scarlett had been Gran’s best friend before the incident.

“So are you going to let me interview Jeb Pott or not?” Gran insisted.

“I don’t even know ifI’ll be able to interview Jeb. Uncle Alec gives me a lot of leeway but he draws the line at actually jeopardizing a conviction. But I’ll see what I can do,” she added when Gran pulled one of her unhappy faces.

Gran got up and patted her cheek.“Good girl. And if you stumble across another dead body, this time let me know, all right? I need all the flogging I can get.”

And after uttering these immortal words, she strode back out of the office.

Chapter 10

Peace had finally returned to the office and only the sounds of fingers tapping keyboards could be heard as Odelia and Dan worked silently in adjacent offices, hard at work to put out a killer edition of the Gazette. When Odelia’s phone rang, she started and almost knocked over her cup of coffee.

“Yes, Uncle, what is it?” she asked when she saw it was him.

“I thought you’d want to know that Jeb denies the charges. Or rather, he’s denying being aware that he killed his ex-wife.”

“You mean he doesn’t remember?”

“He says he passed out and doesn’t remember a thing. He’s pretty sure he would never kill his wife, though. As if that means a thing in his current situation.”

“Is that even possible? To murder a person and not remember?”

“Judging from the copious amounts of narcotics and alcohol he had in his system that’s certainly a possibility, although the coroner reckons that it would have been pretty hard for him to murder anyone in his condition. Passed out sounds about right. In fact it’s a minor miracle he didn’t kill himself, instead of Camilla.”

“So what are you saying? That he didn’t kill her?”

“Well, Abe reckons that a man who’s been abusing intoxicants on such a scale could probably still function where others would have succumbed, so there’s that to consider.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, frowning as she took in this new information. “Okay. So this doesn’t change anything, right?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He noisily cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Camilla received a bunch of texts inviting her to Hampton Cove, right?”

“The texts that said he still loved her, wanted to reconcile, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Chase did a routine check of Jeb’s phone and didn’t find a trace of those texts.”

“Weird.”

“Not so weird. He could have used a second phone.”

“And did he?”

“Now this is where it does get weird. Those texts were sent from a burner phone.”

“Why would Jeb use a burner phone?”

“It gets weirder: there’s no trace of that phone. We searched his lodge top to bottom. Nothing.”

“Jeb could have sent those texts and then dumped the phone.”

“But why would he do that? And why not send his wife a text from his own phone?”

“Maybe…. he wanted to keep it a secret?”

“That doesn’t make sense. He had no way of knowing how she’d react. She could have shown his messages to her lawyers. She could have contacted a reporter, heck she could have told the whole world. So why a burner phone? And why hide it?”

“You said it yourself. To deny that he sent them in case she reacted badly?”

“Maybe.” He hesitated.

“Spill it. You know you want to tell me.”

“That guy who called 911?”

“What about him?”

“We tried to trace him through his cell phone.”

“And?”

“Dead end. Another burner phone. Now why would a neighbor walking his dog use a burner phone?”

That was a very good question, and one to which she didn’t have an answer.

“Anyway, just thought you’d like to know. In case, uh, you decided to investigate further, I mean.”

“Do you want me to investigate this further?”

“I’m not saying you should.”

“So what are you saying, exactly?”

He sighed, and she could just imagine him sitting behind his desk, looking at his wilted office plants, and patting his wilted hair.“What I’m saying is that if you do investigate, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Gotcha. What does Chase think?”

“Oh, he’s happy as a clam that for once he doesn’t have to chase witnesses and suspects and dig up clues.”

“He thinks Jeb did it.”

“Honey, everybody thinks Jeb did it. But just in case he didn’t…”

“You want me to check so you can tie up those annoying loose ends.”

“I hate loose ends, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” she said with a smile. “Look, Gran is dying to interview Jeb. Do you think you can get us in the room with him?”

“Vesta and Jeb? No way!”

“I promise I’ll make her behave.”

“That’s an empty promise and you know it. Besides, if the judge finds out I allowed my mother to interview my one and only suspect, there will be hell to pay.”

“Or I could let her run this entire investigation all by herself. She’s getting very good at it, and you know she’s going to be the vlogging sensation of the year.”

“And now you’re blackmailing me.”

“No, I’m not!”

“All right! Five minutes, and if she so much as puts one foot out of line, I’ll yank her out of there so quick her dentures will rattle.”

“Deal,” she said, and disconnected just as the doorbell jangled again, and she watched Max and Dooley tiptoe into the office.

“Odelia!” Max said as he came tripping up to her desk, then hopped on top of it. “You have to accept Fae’s offer. You just have to!”

“Oh… kay,” she said. “What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Fae and her mother were crying and crying and crying,” said Dooley. “You can’t believe how sad they are that Jeb is in jail now.”

“And they have a little doggie, too,” Max said. “The Bichon Fris? that used to belong to Jeb and Camilla? Her name is Sasha and she says Jeb would never hurt anyone. No way. So you see, Fae is right. Someone is trying to frame her daddy for murder, and you have to find out who the real killer is so Jeb can come home and be with his family again.”

“Technically Helena is not his family anymore,” said Odelia. “They’re divorced.”

“But Fae is still his daughter, and Sasha is still his dog—at least partly.”

“Yes, they are,” she admitted. She clapped her hands. “Well, isn’t this your lucky day? It just so happens that Uncle Alec found some irregularities that indicate this story isn’t as clear-cut as we’ve been led to believe. So he’s asked me to look into the matter.”

“So you think Jeb is innocent?” Dooley asked, his little face lighting up.

“No, I don’t, but there are some things that need to be clarified.”

Max gave her phone a little shove in her direction.“Call Fae. Tell her you’ll take the case. Pretty please?”

“You should have seen how hard she was crying,” said Dooley.

“Yeah,” Max added, “she used so many paper tissues trees are crying, too.”

Odelia laughed.“All right. I’ll take the case.”

She’d always trusted her cats’ instincts. And if they thought that something funny was going on, and so did Uncle Alec, something funny definitely was going on.

Chapter 11

We were finally back at the house. I love prancing around and helping Odelia ferret out clues but you know what I love even more? To be home and lie on my favorite spot on my favorite couch. And having access to my food bowl and my litter box. So it was with a sinking heart that I discovered that not only had the kittens emptied out my food bowl again, but they’d also been playing in my litter box, spreading litter all over the kitchen floor.

Ugh.

“You guys!” I cried. “Why did you make such a mess?”

The three kittens sat next to one another and stared at me, then giggled and attacked me! One jumped on top of my head, another assaulted my tail, and the third one hopped onto my back and dug his tiny claws in!

“Ouch! Hey! What the…”

I tried to shake them off, but they were pretty tenacious.

“I’m the prime resident of this house and you’re going to treat me with resp—ow!”

The one attached to my tail had sunk its teeth into this tender body part again.

“Oh, are you going to behave or not?!” I cried, and pushed the tail-biter away.

In response, the one using my head like a jungle gym gave my nose a playful tap.

“Oh, you guys,” I said grumpily, and rolled over on my back to remove these pesky kittens. They were more nimble and flexible than I was, though, and immediately changed tack by jumping on top of my soft white belly and using it as a trampoline!

“Yay yay yay!” they shouted as they hopped up and down.

Yuck. Now I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten Sasha’s kibble back at the mansion.

So I rolled over on my belly again and hunkered down, protecting myself from the onslaught. Of course now they jumped on my back, with one even dangling from my left ear.

Dooley, who’d popped over to his house next door and now came back in through the kitchen pet flap, eyed the circus with a laugh. “You guys look like you’re having fun.”

“I’m not having fun,” I growled. “They are.”

“Yay yay yay!” cried the kittens, as they jumped up and down on my back.

“How am I ever going to survive this?” I asked miserably as I tried to ignore the little tykes trampling all over me.

“Oh, they’ll grow up eventually,” said Dooley, who seemed to have softened to the kittens. “We did, remember?”

Frankly I couldn’t remember ever having been this young and silly, but logically thinking there must have been a time when I was a kitten myself. Hard to believe, right?

“Woo-hoo!” said the one dangling from my ear, then fell down on his tush, only to immediately crawl up again and climb on top of my head for another round, this time going for my other ear.

The pet flap flapped again, and Brutus and Harriet came strolling in. Harriet is a bright white Persian and her boyfriend Brutus a perfectly black butch cat. They’ve been an item for a long time and nothing can come between them—unless they come between themselves themselves, of course, if you know what I mean. But isn’t that often the case?

When they saw the circus in full swing—literally—they both burst out laughing.

“Yeah, laugh all you want,” I said grumpily. “It’s not so funny if it happens to you.”

The one dangling from my ear fell down again and this time landed on his head. Immediately I checked him for injuries, but the little dude only seemed dazed for a brief moment, and then was chasing his own tail, at last leaving mine alone for a change.

“They’re very lively,” said Harriet with a smile. “Who are they?”

“They were left on Odelia’s doorstep this morning,” said Dooley. “She’s going to keep them.”

Harriet’s smile vanished. “Keep them? What do you mean, keep them?”

“Just what I said. She’s going to keep the kittens.”

“She can’t do that,” said Harriet, flicking a look at Brutus as if hoping he’d back her up. “Can she, sweetie pie?”

“Of course she can. It’s her house—her rules. If she wants to take in an elephant or a rhinoceros who’s going to stop her?”

“Animal control? I think we should have a say in this, don’t you?”

Brutus shrugged.“Hey, we’re just the cats. It’s the humans that make the rules.”

“No, but we live here, too. She can’t just decide to take in three strangers and not ask our opinion. And I, for one, vote against adding to the pack.” She gestured to the rest of us, the kittens meanwhile playing with one of the ping pong balls Odelia had thrown on the floor. “Four is company, seven is a crowd. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“More like two’s company, three’s a crowd,” I said.

“Whatever! She can’t keep adding cats. We’re already overcrowded in here as it is.”

“We do have two houses and two backyards,” Brutus pointed out. He quickly shut up when Harriet gave him one of her death-ray glares.

“We also have the park,” said Dooley, oblivious of the danger he was in. Contradicting Harriet can prove hazardous to one’s physical integrity. “And the street—the entire town of Hampton Cove, really.”

“Nobody asked you, Dooley,” Harriet snapped.

Dooley looked confused.“But I thought you said—”

“Never mind what I said! Eitherthey go, or I go. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” I said, and the others murmured their agreement. Harriet had made herself so clear, in fact, that I had a feeling she was going to be sorely disappointed when Odelia told her it was her way or the highway. And why wouldn’t she? This was Odelia’s house, after all. Us cats might think we are in charge, but at the end of the day we simply aren’t.

The kittens must have spotted Harriet, for they now came walking up to her, still a little faltering in their step.

“Don’t you dare,” she said in a voice that shook with indignation.

The kittens stared, clearly never having seen anything like her before.

“This fur is perfect, not a blemish. And if you so much as think about touching me… hey!”

The kittens hadn’t merely thought about touching her—they’d gone and done it. More, they’d jumped on top of Harriet and were now using her for trampoline practice.

“Yay, yay, yay,” they were singing as they hopped up and down.

“No! Get off! Go away! You can’t—Brutus! Do something!” Harriet cried.

Brutus jumped into the fray, but to no avail. Like fleas, the kittens jumped from Harriet to Brutus and back, having a whale of a time.

“Come here, you little…” Brutus was growling, but even his foulest glare or deepest growl couldn’t stop the cats from running rings around him and Harriet.

And as I watched on, I said,“Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Dooley agreed.

Chapter 12

Odelia walked into the police station, her grandmother right on her heels, and immediately recognized in the diminutive figure of the fair-haired woman who sat on a chair in the waiting room the famous actress who’d been Jeb’s first wife and loyal partner for twenty-five years, until he traded her in for a younger model in the form of Camilla. Next to Helena sat her lookalike daughter Fae. Both women got up when Odelia approached.

“So you must be Odelia,” said Helena as she pressed Odelia’s hand. “Fae told me what she did.”

“Mom wasn’t happy about it at first,” Fae explained, “but she quickly warmed to the idea when she realized Dad could be in jail for the rest of his life.”

“Jeb can’t be in jail. He just can’t. He’s so sensitive. Jail will crush his soul.”

“I understand,” said Odelia. “The thing is, and I’m going to be totally upfront with you—I’m still not entirely convinced Jeb didn’t do this.”

Fae rolled her eyes.“Oh, please. Haven’t you listened to a word I said? Dad isn’t like that. He’s not a killer.”

“He was pretty doped up,” Gran remarked in that subtle way of hers.

Both women turned to her.“And who are you?” asked Fae frostily.

“My name is Vesta Muffin and I’m a flogger,” said Gran, extending her wrinkly, bony hand. “And I’m here to tell you that I’m gonna fight for your cause until my dying breath.”

Helena eyed Gran uncertainly.“I thought you said you don’t believe in our cause?”

“If you want to know what I think,” said Gran, warming to her subject, “it’s that your precious Jeb was high as a kite when suddenly this bimbo who’d been suing him for his last cent shows up at his door. So, being baked out of his skull on coke and meth and whatnot, he grabs a knife and stabs her to death in a frenzy the likes of which this country hasn’t seen since Charlie Manson and his merry band of whacked-out psychos. Then he zonked out and when he woke up he didn’t remember a thing. That’s what I think happened.”

“Dad would never do that,” said Fae, tears springing to her eyes. “He would never kill anyone, drugs or no drugs.”

“Ah, but you gotta admit he was tripping,” Gran pointed out. “Now this is what you need to tell Jeb’s lawyers. They can plead temporary insanity and blame it all on Jeb’s drug dealer, whoever he is. He’s the one they should put in jail for murder. He’s the one who killed that poor woman, not Jeb, who’s just another victim in this case.”

“Right,” said Odelia, giving her grandmother another nudge.

“Stop poking me!” Gran said. “I’m sensitive on account of the fact that I’m slim.”

Odelia gave Helena and her daughter an apologetic smile.“Don’t listen to my grandmother. She watches a lot of soap operas.”

Uncle Alec appeared and waved them over.“Better be quick about this, all right?” he said. “Five minutes and that’s it. No extensions.”

Odelia nodded and braced herself for her first encounter with the fallen superstar. The deal was that Helena and Fae had visitation rights, and Odelia would accompany them as their legal advisor, even though she didn’t possess a legal bone in her body. Gran was tagging along as Odelia’s plus-one, which, if anyone asked, was a tenable proposition at best.

They were led into the interview room, where Jeb Pott sat with his hands shackled to the table, head down. When they entered, he looked up. Seeing Helena and Fae, suddenly tears appeared in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.“Helena. Fae. Darlings. I didn’t do this,” he said in husky tones. “You have to believe me.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Pott, that you were passed out in a drug-induced coma and don’t remember a thing?” asked Gran.

“Yes, but…”

“And isn’t it also true that you were found covered in your victim’s blood and with the murder weapon next to you?”

“Yes, but I…”

“And isn’t it also true,” said Gran, raising her voice, “that you invited the poor woman to your lodge in the dead of night with the express purpose of luring her to her death?” She slammed the table. “Confess now, young man, and we can still make a deal!”

“Who the hell are you?!” Jeb cried.

“She’s my grandmother,” said Odelia, mortified.

Jeb directed his watery eyes on Odelia.“And who are you?”

“Odelia Poole—private detective,” said Fae proudly, placing her hand on her dad’s. “I hired her to clear your name, Daddy. She’s going to work hard to get you out of here.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jeb, who seemed more confused and rattled than when he played The Prisoner of Zenda in the movie with the same name.

“I just have one question for you, Mr. Pott,” said Odelia. “Did you send those texts inviting Camilla Kirby to meet you at the lodge?”

“No, of course not. Why would I want to meet that woman after what she did to me? She destroyed my life, my career—she took great pleasure turning the whole world against me and destroying everything I worked years to accomplish. And what I was most upset about,” he added, softening, “is that she hurt the two people I care about most in this world: you, my darling Fae, and you, Helena. And I’m truly sorry about that.”

“You do realize that accusing your ex-wife only builds a stronger case against you, don’t you, sonny boy?” asked Gran, scowling and poking a crooked finger in his direction.

“Gran, please,” said Odelia. “You’re not working for the prosecution, you’re working for the defense, remember?”

Gran frowned.“I don’t get it.”

Odelia decided to put it in terms her grandmother would understand.“You’re Perry Mason, not Hamilton Burger.”

A sly smile crept up Gran’s face. “Right, right.”

“More to the point, you’re a vlogger helping me on a case. So you’re really Paul Drake, and I am Perry Mason. Though since I’m not a lawyer but a private detective, I’m actually more like Thomas Magnum and you’re either Rick or TC. Your choice.”

Gran sat down.“I’m confused,” she declared. “This legal mumbo-jumbo sounds a lot easier on TV than in real life.”

“Tell me about it,” mumbled Jeb.

“I forgive you, Jeb,” said Helena. “Everything that happened between us is now in the past. What matters most is that you build yourself a stellar defense team.”

“How can I?” said Jeb sadly. “I’m broke. No decent lawyer will defend a man who’s got nothing but a pile of debts.”

“We’ll get you a lawyer, Daddy,” said Fae. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”

Helena hesitated.“A good defense costs a lot of money, darling. And I’m afraid it’s money that we don’t have.”

“Then I’ll pay for it. My modeling career is going well. Iwant to pay for it, Daddy,” she insisted when Jeb shook his head.

“It’s fine, darling. I’ll manage somehow. I still have a couple of friends in the industry. I’ll get the money together.” He turned to Odelia. “So you’re a private dick, huh?”

“She is,” said Gran proudly. “My granddaughter is the best private dick this side of Long Island.”

Jeb nodded gratefully.“Then I’m glad you’re on my side, Miss Poole.”

“You can call me Odelia,” said Odelia, who was suddenly starting to feel a little giddy. Being in close proximity to the famous dreamboat actor had that effect on her. Though he didn’t look as handsome as he used to in his heyday, he was still plenty charismatic.

He took her hand and fixed her with an intense look.“I promise you, Odelia. I didn’t do this. Even though I may have been strung out on booze and dope, I would never kill a person, even one I hated with every fiber of my being,” he said, suddenly clenching his jaw.

All in all, as Odelia walked out of the interview room, she still wasn’t convinced that Jeb hadn’t killed his ex-wife. On the other hand, she believed that people were innocent until proven guilty, and decided to extend Jeb that courtesy, too. She also believed that Helena and Fae believed in Jeb. So what other choice did she have but to pursue this investigationand pursue it as if she really were the best private dick this side of Long Island?

Chapter 13

They were out in the parking lot, and Helena and her daughter started to walk away in the direction of their car. Odelia followed them.“If I’m going to do this I need to do it right,” she said.

“Right, like the professional dicks that we are,” Gran confirmed.

“What I mean is that I need to know if there’s anyone out there who might hold a grudge against Jeb.”

Helena laughed, and so did Fae.“Anyone? How about I write you a list?”

“That many, huh?”

“You don’t become an A-list actor without making a couple of enemies along the way.” She held up a hand. “Not that Jeb would ever rub anyone the wrong way or that he’s difficult to work with. On the contrary. Ask anyone. He’s a total sweetheart, off and on the set.”

“But he does have enemies.”

“There are colleagues who are jealous. Guys he started out with but who never reached the top. They could drink his blood.”

“Not literally, though,” Fae interjected with a laugh.

“Some could drink his blood, especially the weird ones,” said her mother. “Then there’s the directors he rubbed the wrong way by wanting to pursue his own creative vision when they felt otherwise.”

“Yes, but those are creative differences you’re talking about,” said Odelia. “That and petty jealousy. But this is murder. Someone who hates Jeb so intensely that he or she would murder another human being simply to get back at Jeb.”

“Or someone who hated Camilla so much and didn’t care if the blame fell on Jeb,” said Gran.

“Or both,” Fae said. “Someone who hated my daddy and Camilla and figured out a way to get rid of them both in one fell swoop.”

Odelia nodded as she thought this through. They could be looking for a person who hated Jeb or Camilla or both. At any rate, whoever this person was—if this person even existed—he or she needed to have been in the area last night. “Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against Jeb or Camilla and who is in town right now?”

Helena frowned and tapped her lips.“Well, there’s our neighbor, of course. Fitz Priestley.” She exchanged a look with her daughter. “He hates Jeb right now, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. Fitz hates Jebso hard right now.”

“Fitz Priestley the director? I thought Jeb was his muse?”

“He was, but that was before Jeb’s name became synonymous with spousal abuse,” said Helena. “Now he’s box office poison and no producer or studio will come near Fitz.”

“Which means,” continued Fae, “that the movies Fitz made with Jeb are not being rented, not being downloaded or watched on Netflix. He’s losing a lot of money. Plus, his name is now tainted by association, which is never a good thing for an ambitious director.”

“But would he murder Camilla to get back at Jeb?” asked Odelia. “That seems unlikely.”

“Oh, but he hated Camilla, too,” said Helena. “He cast her as his leading lady in his most recent project, for a star turn along with Jeb, but with the divorce the project fell through. He’d put a lot of his own money in it, and he lost it all.”

It was perhaps a reason to hate a person, but murder? Then again, stranger things had happened, Odelia thought. She made a mental note to check out this Fitz Priestley guy. Especially the fact that he lived right next door and probably knew the ins and outs of Jeb’s life made this a potentially promising lead.

“Don’t forget about Jeb’s drug dealer,” croaked Gran, earning her twin scowls from Helena and Fae. “What?” she said, raising her arms, palms up. “The man is a druggie. And we all know every drug addict needs a drug dealer. And if Jeb is as broke as he claims he is, maybe he owed his dealer a ton of money. Drug dealers don’t like it when customers don’t pay up. They tend to get nasty. And some of them even get murderous.”

“Yes, but he would simply have roughed Jeb up if that was the case,” said Helena. “Besides, I don’t think Jeb has a dealer in town. He always carries his own stuff with him.” When her daughter shot her a look, she blushed. “Mrs. Muffin is right, honey. Daddy does love his nose candy. And that stuff doesn’t come cheap nor can you buy it at your local deli. I remember Jeb had a guy in LA, so he probably got a nice stash and brought it out here.”

“And past airport security? Doubtful,” said Gran.

“Daddy uses his private jet,” said Fae, practically sticking out her tongue at Gran. “And private jets can smuggle as many drugs around the country as they want.”

“I don’t think so,” said Odelia. “They have to go through customs just like passengers on commercial airlines. Though the checks might be more cursory for a star like Jeb.”

“I should never have invited Jeb here,” said Helena.

“Mom!”

“But he was feeling so down after things ended with Camilla that I thought he needed a change of scene. Plus, I hoped that somehow, maybe, I could ‘heal’ him, you know.” She laughed a curt laugh. “As if anyone has ever been able to change Jeb.”

“Why change him? He’s perfect the way he is,” said Fae.

Helena directed a sad look at her daughter and touched her hair, with Fae brushing her hand away. Helena clearly wasn’t happy that her drug-abusing ex-partner had decided to continue his self-destructive lifestyle at the lodge, setting a terrible example for Fae.

“So how long had Jeb been down here?” asked Odelia.

“Um, two months or so? He had to get out of LA, and wanted to be close to Fae. I wouldn’t let him stay at the house, though, because of the drugging and the boozing.”

“And the women,” Fae said softly.

Her mother nodded.

“If he was here two months he must have had a local dealer,” said Gran. “He wasn’t slipping a bag of coke through security and he wasn’t going to go without for two whole months, so we need to find his dealer, honey,” she added, tapping Odelia’s chest.

“You know what I think?” said Fae suddenly. “I think Camilla killed herself and then made it look like Dad did it.”

“That’s ridiculous, honey,” said her mother. “For one thing, Camilla would never kill herself. She wasn’t the type.”

“She would,” said Fae, nodding empathically. “To get back at Dad she would have done anything.” She turned to Odelia. “Are you sure that body in the morgue is Camilla’s? She could have used a lookalike, or found a dead body in the graveyard and dug it up.”

“It really is Camilla,” Odelia said. Though she liked Fae’s out-of-the-box thinking.

Fae deflated a little, but insisted stubbornly,“You should definitely look into this. She could have cut herself, then dribbled her blood all over Dad, placed the knife next to him, then taken some sleeping pills and accidentally taken too many.”

“Oh, honey,” said Helena, shaking her head.

“No, but listen! Maybe she didn’t mean to die, only to look so banged up Daddy would have gone to prison for a long time. Only she miscalculated and died—which was just what she deserved.”

“Fae,” said Helena sharply. “I never liked Camilla, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

Fae shrugged and crossed her arms.“Just a theory. You are going to check it out, though, aren’t you, Odelia?”

Odelia assured her she would. Though if there had been sleeping pills in Camilla’s stomach the coroner would have definitely found them.

“Chief Alec told me cause of death was stab wounds, sweetie,” said Helena. “Not sleeping pills. And a woman as self-absorbed as Camilla would never stab herself, not even to frame an ex-husband she hated.”

“I guess not,” said Fae, moping a little. It’s never fun to have your brilliant ideas shot down, especially when you’re trying to save your beloved father from life in prison.

“Trust me,” said Gran now, patting the young woman on the arm. “We’re going to catch this killer and we’re going to make sure he fries in the chair.”

“There is no death penalty in the state of New York,” said Fae with a little grin. “But I like your attitude, old lady. So points for effort.”

“Old lady my foot,” grumbled Gran as they walked away. “How old does she think I am? A hundred?”

“She’s young, Gran,” said Odelia. “Young people think that anyone over forty is ancient. Heck, I am probably an old lady to her, and so is her mom.”

“Impertinence,” Gran said. “If she were my daughter I’d have knocked some sense into her a long time ago.”

“She’s a teenager who’s scared her daddy will go to jail for the rest of his life.”

“She’s a spoiled brat is what she is.” Then she relented. “She does love her daddy though, which kinda got to me when I saw the two of them together in there.”

It had gotten to Odelia, too.“Are you sure we can pull this off?”

“Sure I’m sure. All we need to do is follow the clues and we’ll find the bastard that did this.”

“Unless you’re right and Jeb really did kill his ex-wife in a drug-induced frenzy.”

Gran shrugged her bony shoulders.“I may have changed my mind on that.”

“Oh, you have, have you? And why is that?”

“Like I said, the kid got to me. Besides, you have to trust your gut. And my gut is telling me he didn’t do it. It’s also telling me I’m starving, so are you going to drive me home now or what?”

“Okay, fine, we’re going,” she said, aiming her key fob at her pickup and listening for the telltale beep beep. “Talk about a spoiled brat,” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard that!”

“Good. I wanted you to,” she said as she got in.

“You better show some respect for your elders, young lady, or else.”

“Or else what? You’re going to denounce me on your vlog?”

“Oh, darn it!”

“What?”

Gran held up her phone.“Forgot to film the interview!”

And a good thing, too, Odelia thought as she put the car in gear. She needed her grandmother vlogging her way through this investigation like she needed a hole in the head.

“Maybe you should give up this vlog,” she suggested, waving to Helena and Fae as they pulled out in front of her and merged into traffic.

“I’ll never give up flogging,” Gran said stubbornly. “I live to flog.”

And wasn’t that the truth.

Chapter 14

That night, Odelia was chopping tomatoes while watching something on her iPad, the frown cutting her brows indicating absolute focus. When she’s working on a case she’s often like that: utter concentration. I admire that about her. I sometimes have to contend with a lack of focus. Then again, I am continually faced with a lot of distractions, and I was looking at three of those distractions at that exact moment, namely Bim, Bam and Bom.

Odelia had finally named the kittens, which I thought was a dangerous sign. It meant she was probably going to keep them. I wasn’t particularly fond of the names either. Who wants to be called Bom for the rest of his life, unless they plan to be a suicide bomber?

Bam was dangling from the curtains, Bim was trying to remove all the water from my bowl with her paws, and Bom, living up to his name, was climbing the couch and dive-bombing into the deep, landing on the plush carpet every time he did. He was having a ball.

They still weren’t talking, which I guess was a good thing. I’d never realized kittens only babble in nonsensical vowels and consonants until they’re a little older. Then again, human babies don’t conduct entire conversations when they’re in the cradle either, right? And they’re supposed to be the top species on the planet.

“Listen to this, you guys,” said Odelia now, reading from her iPad. “Jeb’s last movie completely bombed at the box office, even though it had cost a quarter of a billion dollars to make, causing the studio that had green-lit the movie to file for bankruptcy, and the woman whose series of books the movie was based on to lose a big chunk of her fortune. Like Fitz Priestley, she put her own money into the production, and lost it all. She’s allegedly furious with Jeb for allowing himself to be dragged into this whole divorce thing and blames him for ending her Hollywood ambitions and putting a huge dent into her bank account.”