4c392a139708e5efb30cc267dbb0c768

She tripped down the stairs, four cats close on her heels, switched on the lights in her cozy little living room and gestured triumphantly to the whiteboard the UPS guy had delivered the day before.“Ta-dah!” she said.

“Achoo!” said Max in earnest admiration.

“What is it?” asked Dooley.

“A vision board,” said Max.

“Yes, but whatis it?”

“I’m going to collect all the clues relating to the crime on this board and then I’m going to look for links,” Odelia explained. “That way I might be able to make connections I wouldn’t otherwise make. At least that’s the theory. I’m not sure how it works in reality.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” said Harriet. “I’ve always been a very visual cat. I need to see things before I decide what’s what and you’re exactly the same, Odelia.”

“I am,” Odelia agreed.

And she was. It was all fine and dandy mulling things over in your head but there were only so many elements you could juggle before losing the thread. And since there were so many suspects in this case she needed to make things visual to make sense of them all.

She started by writing the name of the victim in bold at the top of the whiteboard. Then, underneath, she neatly wrote the names of all the people involved—starting with the seven suspects who’d been identified as having been present around the time Ackerman died. She decided not to include Gran or Mom or Dad, even though they’d been at the library. There was no way they were involved. Even Uncle Alec agreed on that.

There was movement behind her and when she looked up she saw that Gran had walked in through the sliding glass doors.

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked.

Gran shook her head. She was looking even more crusty than usual.“I hate it when I can’t sleep. I can just feel my face getting wrinklier and my skin drying out like a mummy’s. What are you doing?”

“It’s called a vision board,” said Brutus. “It’s what real detectives like Odelia use.”

“Oh, right. Like what cops use. They call it an evidence board, though.”

“Achoum!” said Brutus in agreement.

“Oh, dear. Do you have a cold?” asked Gran.

“Achaa!” Dooley sneezed, as if in response.

“We better take them to Vena’s,” said Gran.

Four cats groaned. Going to Vena’s was agony to them.

A rustle at the window announced that one more person had decided to join them.

“Hey, Mom,” said Odelia. “Can’t sleep either?”

“It’s this Ackerman business,” said Mom. “I haven’t slept a wink since I saw his… body.” She gave a quick quiver to demonstrate how she felt about finding bodies of dead writers in her library—or anywhere else for that matter. “I can’t help feeling people all think that I did it.”

“Nonsense,” said Gran firmly. “Nobody thinks that, Marge.”

“I walked down to the General Store yesterday and I swear people were actually whispering behind my back. And when I tried to talk to Ida Baumgartner she ignored me.”

“That’s because Ida Baumgartner has a crush on Tex,” said Gran. “Everybody knows that.”

It was obvious that Mom didn’t, judging by the way she sucked in her breath. She then seemed to notice for the first time that Odelia was scrawling strange scribblings on a whiteboard. She moved closer. “Why are those names written in red?”

Odelia tapped the whiteboard.“Darius Kassman, Aldo Wrenn and Sasha Drood. These are our most likely suspects. Wouldn’t you agree, Gran?”

Gran had plunked her bony frame down on a chair and was inspecting Dooley, much to the latter’s exasperation, as Gran dug her fingers into his tummy and underneath his chin. “Mh?” she said, looking up. “Oh, yeah, right. Most likely suspects. Sure thing, hon.”

“Darius Kassman stalked Chris Ackerman and approached him in spite of the restraining order. He struck me as mentally unstable and could have killed Ackerman in a fit of rage. Then there’s Aldo Wrenn, or Aldo Ackerman as he now calls himself. Claims he’s Chris’s son and if he’s right he just might share in the writer’s substantial inheritance. And finally Sasha Drood, the man who robbed Chris and might have killed him in a struggle.”

“Tough,” said Gran. “So many suspects. How to determine who did it?”

“And what about Chris Ackerman’s wife and son?” asked Marge.

“Chris was still alive after they left,” Odelia explained. “They claim Malcolm Buckerfield saw them leave.”

“Rockwell Burke said the same thing,” Gran pointed out. “Which seems doubtful.”

“Not necessarily,” said Odelia. “If Malcolm Buckerfield arrived just as Rockwell Burke changed his mind about going in, he could have met him and then met Angelique and Trey as he walked into the library.” She wrote, ‘TALK TO BUCKERFIELD’ and added five exclamation marks, then five morefor good measure.

“Hasanyone talked to this publisher?” asked Mom.

“Not yet. He drove home after delivering his final plea to Ackerman.”

“And home is…”

“Boston. He’s agreed to fly in today, though, and talk to Uncle Alec. So then we’ll know more about what he was doing there and why he didn’t stick around for the reading.”

“I would have liked to meet him. He’s almost as famous as the writers he publishes.”

“So basically we have three likely suspects and four iffy ones,” said Gran.

“And don’t forget about the pizza guy,” said Max.

Odelia pointed at him.“Thanks, Max. I’m going to track him down today.”

“Imagine the pizza guy did it,” chuckled Gran. “Because Ackerman wouldn’t tip him.”

Odelia scribbled‘pizza guy’ in the margin. She was nothing if not thorough. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “So what does this teach us?” she asked her audience.

“That we’re screwed,” grunted Gran. “All these people could have done it for various reasons and we have no way of figuring out who did do it.” She threw up her hands. “Jessica Fletcher makes it look so easy on TV! Only takes her fifty minutes to find the killer—ninety minutes in the movies.”

“Aurora Teagarden, too,” muttered Max.

“Follow the pizza boxes,” Dooley added, quite incomprehensibly.

They all stared at the whiteboard for a moment. Finally Harriet said it best when she announced,“We still have a long way to go, people.Achee!”

Chapter 33

The visit to Vena’s would have to wait. The call came at eight o’clock, just when they were all sitting down for breakfast. Tex, who’d finally noticed the house was empty, had drifted over, and was sucking down his first cup of coffee of the day, slowly waking up. Odelia had baked pancakes, Mom was demonstrating her omelet skills, and Gran showed the others what a superb waffle batter should look like, when Uncle Alec called.

Turned out Chris Ackerman’s publisher had flown in the night before and had rented a large beachfront mansion and had invited Uncle Alec to interview him there. Alec had told Chase and Chase had suggested they bring Odelia along, seeing as she was also working the case, albeit in an unofficial capacity. And since Gran wouldn’t hear of sitting this one out, she decided to come, too, as well as the fearsome feline foursome, who weren’t going to let a little cold stand in their way. Finally, as the library was still closed, Mom was also game.

The only one who wasn’t coming was Tex, since he had patients to attend to. And neither did he mind. Unlike the women in his family, he wasn’t bitten by the sleuthing bug.

And so it was that Odelia’s pickup was pretty packed as it tootled along the road, Odelia in the driver’s seat, Gran riding shotgun, with Marge and the cats in the backseat.

“Nice,” said Gran. “Like a family trip to the beach.”

“This is still a murder investigation, Gran,” said Odelia.

“So I can’t enjoy this? You’ve got to lighten up, dear.”

Odelia directed a quick look through the rearview mirror. The thing was that she worried about her mother. People were talking, and they would keep on talking as long as the person who killed Ackerman hadn’t been identified, arrested, and tried for murder. Some people would probably keep on talking even afterwards, but that was just because they liked talking and didn’t have anything better to do. Luckily they were a minority. The sooner this investigation was over, though, the sooner Mom would be off the hook.

Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus were sniffling quietly.

“I scheduled an appointment, you guys,” said Odelia. “We’re going over there as soon as this interview is over, okay?”

“Okay,” said Max thickly.

“Oh, poor babies,” said Mom, and yanked a few paper napkins from the dispenser and busied herself with wiping their noses and the liquid flowing from their eyes.

“I feel terrible,” Dooley intimated. “And here I thought Jesus would save us.”

Odelia frowned.“I forgot to ask. What’s with this Jesus business?”

“Shanille baptized us,” Max explained. “She figured it would heal Brutus’s red spots.”

“They’re bigger than ever,” Brutus grumbled. “Wanna see?” Without waiting for confirmation he jutted out his chest and Mom took a closer look.

“Oh, my,” said Mom. “Those are some nasty spots, Brutus.”

“Yeah, very nasty,” muttered Brutus with gruff satisfaction.

“So… Shanille baptized you?” asked Odelia.

“Yup. In St. John’s Church’s baptismal font,” said Max.

“She dunked us,” said Harriet. “Can you believe that? I’m still wet.”

Odelia shook her head. She probably should keep a closer eye on her cats. She usually trusted their judgment but this baptism business definitely was not a good idea.

“Maybe we should remove those cat flaps,” Gran suggested, who was clearly thinking the same thing.

“Noooo!” cried the four cats in unison, and Odelia laughed.

“Relax. We’re not going to remove the cat flaps. But you have to promise us to take better care of yourselves. Use your heads.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Max muttered, then sneezed again.

They’d finally arrived at the house where the publisher of Chris Ackerman’s books was holed up. It was one of those typical Hamptons mansions, with a high wrought-iron gate, guarded by two beefy security people, a long and winding drive through immaculately manicured grounds and ending in a circular courtyard where the house stood. A three-story structure in pink brick with plenty of gables and windows, the place had a fairytale look.

“Is this where Walt Disney used to live?” asked Dooley admiringly from the backseat.

“The Disney princesses, more like,” said Harriet, equally impressed.

Several caterer’s vans were parked in the driveway, and white-aproned personnel was hauling stuff into the house.

“Looks like someone is having a party,” said Mom.

“Maybe that’s for us,” said Gran. “I shouldn’t have eaten that last pancake. I should have known these rich folks would treat their guests like royalty.”

“Pretty sure this isn’t for us, Gran,” said Odelia as she got out.

Behind them, another pickup rolled to a stop. Chase was behind the wheel, Uncle Alec next to him.

“Looks like the gang is all here,” said Chase as he ambled up. He bent over and planted a quick kiss on Odelia’s lips, which she happily returned. Since their interrupted dinner date the other night they hadn’t had two minutes together. She hoped that by the time the investigation was wrapped up, the film festival would still be in full swing and she and Chase could finally check out that Cary Grant movie.

“So how are we doing this?” asked Uncle Alec, who seemed to have second thoughts about driving up here en masse. “We can’t all go in there and crowd the poor shmuck.”

“Whatever he is, he’s definitely not poor,” Gran commented as an ice sculpture was carried out of a moving van by four bulky dudes.

“I suggest Chase and Odelia interview the guy,” said Uncle Alec. “While I look around and talk to some of the staff. In my experience staff often know more about what’s going on than the principals themselves.” He cut off Gran, who’d opened her mouth to protest, with, “You talk to thekitchen staff while I talk to the household staff. Marge, you… mingle.”

Mom arched her eyebrows.“Mingle?”

Uncle Alec gestured at a procession of cars that was roaring up the drive. They were all in the high-class category. In other words, the category Odelia couldn’t afford. “Looks like the party is about to get started. Talk to the guests and see what you can find out about the relationship between Ackerman and his publisher.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Mom with a two-fingered salute.

Uncle Alec displayed a lopsided grin.“We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“Shouldn’t we synchronize our watches?” asked Gran.

“Only if you’re James Bond and you’re about to save the world,” Alec deadpanned.

Chapter 34

“Mingle,” said Harriet, then sneezed violently. “How can we mingle when we’re standing with one foot in the grave?” She sneezed again, then once more for good measure.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s just a cold. We’ll be right as rain in no time.”

“Please, Max,” said Brutus with a pained expression. “No mention of water.”

At my mention of the word‘rain’ Dooley had subjected the skies to a critical look. When no dark clouds heralded in the coming apocalypse, he seemed to relax.

“I can’t believe we tried to prevent Brutus from having to visit Vena and now we end up all going to Vena’s,” said Harriet, checking her precious white fur for spots.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” said Brutus. “This is all my fault.”

“Personally I blame Shanille,” said Harriet. “And next time I see her I’ll give her a piece of my mind she won’t forget. Jesus, forsooth.”

I laughed, tickled pink that Harriet would use such a quaint expression. But when she fixed me with a haughty glare, I quickly stopped.“I think we better split up,” I said.

“Yes, I think we better,” Harriet agreed icily.

I had the distinct sensation she blamed me in equal measure as Shanille. She probably figured I should have stopped Brutus instead of encouraging him. Then again, how was I to know that Jesus would smite us with a viral infectious disease that affects the upper respiratory system—if smite is the word I want? Maybe this was a test. But a test of what?

Harriet and Brutus moved off in one direction while Dooley and I moved in the other.

“Do you think Jesus will save us from the apocalypse now that we’re baptized, Max?” asked Dooley.

“No idea, Dooley,” I said. Unlike Shanille I’m not an expert on matters of theology. “Though I can’t imagine he’d let us die in a fiery furnace, considering we went to the trouble of being dunked headfirst in that icy cold water.”

“It was pretty cold, wasn’t it? Father Reilly should use warm water. Much nicer.”

“I’ll tell him when I see him,” I said.

“You will? Super,” he said, greatly gratified. Like I said, Dooley doesn’t do irony.

We watched as Odelia and Chase disappeared into the house, while Uncle Alec, Gran and Marge took the small stone path that led around the house—the same direction some of the caterers had taken.

“Have you noticed how much like Jesus Chase looks?” asked Dooley now.

I hadn’t, but now that he mentioned it, he had a point. If Chase decided to grow a beard, he’d be the spitting image of Jesus.

This gave Dooley an idea.“Do you think Chaseis Jesus?”

“I doubt it, Dooley. I think Chase is just a dude.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I…” Actually, I wasn’t. How do you know if a dude is just a dude or not?

“What if heis Jesus, Max?” he said excitedly.

“Well, that would be pretty cool,” I agreed.

A resolute look stole over Dooley’s features. “We’re going to have to find out.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

He nodded knowingly.“Sheep,” he said.

“Sheep?”

“Jesus loves sheep. Haven’t you noticed that in all the pictures Jesus is holding a sheep? So if Chase is Jesus I’ll bet he’s got a sheep stashed away somewhere. So all we need to do is find Chase’s sheep and then we’ll know.”

“I don’t know,” I said dubiously. Even though Dooley’s story seemed to make sense, I had the distinct impression there was a hidden snag. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

“I’m going to find that sheep,” said Dooley decidedly.

We moved in the direction Grandma, Marge and Uncle Alec had disappeared. Right now sheep were the last of our worries. We needed to find a pet belonging to Malcolm Buckerfield and we needed to find it pronto. I just hoped it was a cat and not a teacup piglet or Yorkie. Nice enough though they were, it’s always easier to converse in one’s own lingo.

We’d arrived at the back of the house, and I was duly impressed by the scene that greeted us: long tables had been set up, where administrating caterers dressed in white were placing dishes, cups and plates and the other paraphernalia of a garden party. I saw bowls of punch, trays of amuse-bouches and an outside bar where a snazzy-dressed bartender was practicing his cocktail-making skills. A DJ was spinning tunes at a low volume to the far end of the garden, where a dance floor had been set up. This clearly had all the makings of a great shindig, and the guests who were streaming in seemed to agree.

“Nice,” I said.

“A little inappropriate,” Dooley said with a disapproving frown.

“Why is that?”

“Malcolm Buckerfield was Chris Ackerman’s soon-to-be-ex-publisher, right?”

“Right.”

“Chris Ackerman died two days ago and here his publisher is holding a party. Seems indelicate to me, not to say downright unkind.”

Dooley had a point. It was indelicate. In fact it was suspicious. The man obviously was so happy that his most famous author had died that he was throwing a party to celebrate the fact.“You know, I hadn’t looked at it that way,” I said, “but you’re absolutely right.”

Dooley looked pleasantly surprised.“I am?”

“Yes.”

He nodded thoughtfully.“I think it’s the baptism. It’s made me more intelligent.”

I would have responded with a choice remark but at that precise moment I finally saw what we were looking for: a black-and-white striped cat slinking along the garden’s perimeter. “Target located, Dooley. Let’s move in.”

Dooley followed my gaze, then nodded determinedly.“On it, Max.”

As one, we moved in the direction of the feline. Judging from the way she locked eyes with me, she’d spotted us. Only when we reached her, she seemed coy, eluding us by quickly shifting back to the house, where once again she awaited further developments.

We changed course and made a beeline for the striped cat, only to watch her tiptoe off, this time jumping up onto a windowsill then gracefully draping her tail around her butt.

“She’s toying with us, Dooley,” I said.

“You’d think she doesn’t want to talk to us,” Dooley observed.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” I said, deciding that a little military strategizing appeared to be required here. We did as planned, but once again the wily creature escaped capture by jumping up onto a nearby drainpipe and quickly scooting upwards.

Dooley and I met at the foot of the drainpipe and stared up at the elusive cat. By then she’d reached the roof and sat staring down at us.

“She’s making fools of us, Max,” Dooley said.

And she was. As I explained, cats don’t smile, but this cat was clearly having fun at our expense. “There’s only one thing to do,” I said.

“I know,” said Dooley. “Let’s give up.”

“What? No! Let’s climb this drainpipe,” I countered.

Dooley checked the drainpipe, then glanced up, then down again at me.“No way, Max. We’re sick cats. We can’t be expected to perform a series of complicated acrobatics.”

“It’s not complicated. We simply climb this drainpipe and we’ll have her cornered.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Max.”

I decided to play my trump card.“What would Jesus do, Dooley?”

This made him think a bit.“I’m not sure. Maybe we should ask Chase.”

“Jesus would climb this pipe. I just know he would.”

Dooley didn’t look convinced.

“Fine,” I said. “ThenI’ll climb this pipe.”

And I did, fully expecting Dooley to follow my lead. Only when I’d reached the second floor and looked down, I saw that Dooley was still on the ground, staring up at me.

“I’m sorry, Max!” he cried. “I thought about it and I figure Jesus would stay put and look after his sheep.”

“Dooley!”

“Everybody knows sheep can’t climb, Max!”

Oh, for God’s sakes… I quickly scooted up that pipe, wanting to get this over with. And I’d finally reached the roof when I saw that the cat was patiently waiting near the chimney, this time giving no indication she was about to escape capture again.

“Hey, there,” I said suavely. “My name is Max.”

She threw me a sly look over her shoulder, then looked away again.

“Um… nice view, huh?” I said, glancing at the landscape surrounding us. It was pretty stunning. I could see more cars zooming up the driveway, rolling hills of green all around, and not a cloud in the sky. If I wasn’t mistaken I would have said the mansion was located right next to a golf course, which would make sense. For some reason rich people like to kick a little white ball and then chase it. Just like dogs. They also love chasing balls. Silly business.

“Who are you?” finally asked the female. She had one of those sultry voices.

“Like I said, my name is Max and—”

“I got that. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m a feline sleuth,” I said. “My friends and I are trying to figure out who killed—”

But she was quick to stop me by placing a paw on my face and effectively interrupting my flow of words.“Let’s not waste time by flapping our gums,” she said in a sexily hoarse voice. “Our eyes met in the crowd. You followed me. I think we both feel it.”

“Feel… what, exactly?”

“Oh, Max,” she cooed. “You know.”

“Know what?”

“Oh, Max,” she repeated, then proceeded to give me a head bump.

“Um…”

To my surprise, she suddenly turned and started smelling my butt!

What happened next is one of those things you tell your grandkids about on those long winter evenings when there’s nothing on TV. It all went so fast it was over before I knew it. She pressed her nose against my butt, and in a reflex action I folded down my tail to protect this most sensitive area and effectively shielded it off from her inquisitive sniffing. Call me a prude but I don’t usually allow strange females to sniff around down there.

She didn’t take it well. A dark look came over her face, she produced a loud hissing sound, and before I knew it she’d given me a kick that send me skipping across the roof.

And then I was going over the edge, plunging headfirst into the abyss…

Chapter 35

Odelia was impressed by the high ceilings, the intricate molding, the crystal chandeliers and the parquet floor. She was even more impressed when finally the man they’d come here to meet graced them with his presence. Malcolm Buckerfield was a large man, both in length and girth. He was also a man who had no qualms about showing off his facial hair. Apart from a russet mustache he also sported a perfectly landscaped white beard, a white buzzcut covering a bullet-shaped head and thick black eyebrows. Taken together, practically the full acreage of his head was covered with some type of fur, leaving only his cheekbones, eyes and brow without the benefit of coverage.

“Detective Kingsley,” boomed the man in a deep voice. “Miss Poole. Thanks for coming all the way out here to Avalon.”

“Avalon?” asked Chase. “Like King Arthur?”

“Myes,” said the publisher. “I like to grace every residence I stay at with the moniker Avalon. Like Air Force One, which is only called Air Force One when the President is aboard.”

“Oh,” said Chase.

“So what can I do for you?”

They’d taken a seat in the salon, Odelia nervous about her shoes soiling the Persian rug and her bottom creasing the green velvet sofa cover. It was like being granted an audience with the Queen of England at Buckingham Palace. Or King Arthur at Avalon.

“You were Chris Ackerman’s publisher for thirty years,” said Chase.

“I was, yes,” Buckerfield acknowledged. “I was very sorry to hear about his death. He was a great writer and a good friend.”

“He recently indicated he was changing publishers,” Chase continued.

“He was.”

“You weren’t happy about that.”

“I wasn’t. He was my most popular author.”

“Is that why you visited him two nights ago at the Hampton Cove library where he was holding a reading of his latest novel?”

Buckerfield’s eyes flickered beneath those black brows. “How did you—” He gestured with a beringed hand. “No matter. Yes, I did show up at the library. I wanted to give him one final chance to change his mind.”

“You made him a very generous offer,” said Odelia. “A ten-book contract.”

The publisher nodded.“He said he’d think about it.”

“He didn’t summarily refuse your offer?”

The publisher shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.“No, he did not. Chris and I have known each other a very long time. I published his first novel. I effectively discovered him and gave him his first chance when no one else would. He was simply playing hardball. Up the ante and get a higher advance for his next series of books. That was all thiswas.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Chase. “Isn’t it true that Chris was having an affair with Stacey Kulcheski, who now works as an editor for Franklin Cooper? And isn’t that the main reason he was changing publishers? On the instigation of his new girlfriend?”

Buckerfield bridled.“Nonsense. Chris would never allow his personal life to interfere with his business affairs. Like I said, this was simply a negotiation technique.”

“And it worked,” said Odelia.

“Ostensibly it did,” the publisher agreed. “I never believed for one minute he was leaving us. We have an entire team devoted to Chris. He had no reason to look elsewhere.”

“So you didn’t get into a fight with him and kill him?” asked Chase, cocking an eyebrow.

“Certainly not! How ridiculous. Chris and I were old friends. I would never hurt him.”

His statement didn’t strike Odelia as duplicitous. In fact he seemed shocked at the accusation he killed his friend. She decided to try a different tack. “Angelique and Trey Ackerman claim they saw you at the library. They were leaving as you arrived. Is this true?”

Buckerfield nodded.“Yes, it is. I was surprised to see them, to be honest. Chris had made no secret that he’d started divorce proceedings.”

“So he was serious about his affair with Miss Kulcheski,” said Chase.

“He was. Deadly serious. Pardon me,” he quickly added, realizing the insensitivity of his choice of words. “Chris and Angelique’s marriage was in trouble long before Chris met Stacey. So it didn’t come as a great surprise when he told me what was going on. Angelique didn’t take it well,and neither did Trey, who’d chosen to side with his mother and resented his father a great deal. It pained Chris but there was nothing he could do about it. The heart wants what it wants.” He gave them a sad smile. “And to think I introduced Chris and Stacey at BookExpo America last year. BookExpo America is the largest book fair in the States. I could see Chris and Stacey hit it off immediately. Never in my wildest dreams could I have foreseen it would lead to this.” He touched the silk scarf around his neck and tugged it thoughtfully. “You’ll probably think it’s very insensitive of me to organize this party.”

“The thought had occurred to us,” Chase said with a nod of the head.

“I planned this months ago. Impossible to call it off. Only now I’ll dedicate the gathering to Chris. I’ve prepared a commemorative speech. A eulogy if you will.” He unearthed a folded up piece of paper from his vest pocket and fumbled with it for a moment before returning it. “I’m going to miss Chris. He really was a good friend.”

“One more question,” said Chase. “Do you remember seeing Rockwell Burke? He says he left as you arrived.”

Buckerfield grimaced.“I do. I told him not to leave. He’d promised to moderate the event and I thought it cowardly of him not to go through with it. He seemed to have made up his mind, though. Said he didn’t want to be accused of selling out by making nice with Chris Ackerman, who he seemed to consider his mortalenemy.”

“And when you arrived Chris Ackerman was still alive,” said Odelia musingly.

“And so he was when I left,” Buckerfield insisted. He glanced at his watch. “And now if you’ll excuse me. I really have to attend to my guests. If you want to stay, please do.” He waited for a moment, and when Chase nodded his assent, he gratefully rose to his feet and walked out with surprising alacrity and grace for a man of his substantial bulk.

“So what do you think?” asked Chase.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” said Odelia.

“I think so, too. Which means…”

“Angelique and Trey Ackerman are off the hook, and so is Rockwell Burke.”

“Now if only we could determine who of the other three is the man we’re looking for…”

And they were both lost in thought for a moment when suddenly loud screams came to Odelia’s ear. They seemed to come from outside, and when she got up to look through the salon window, she saw that Buckerfield’s guests all stood staring up at something.

“What’s going on?” Chase asked as he joined her.

“No idea.”

Chase opened the window and leaned out, looking up.“Oh, hell,” he said.

A jolt of premonition sliced through Odelia.“What is it?”

He retracted his head.“It’s Max. He’s dangling from the gutter.”

Chapter 36

I know, I know. Cats don’t usually dangle from gutters. And I wasn’t! I was dangling from a protuberance. Some thingamajig jutting out of the wall. Possibly an ancient piece of flagpole or lightning rod or what was left of a bust dedicated to the manor’s original owners. At any rate, the iron rod—whatever it was—had effectively saved my life. The striped cat’s kick had taken me by surprise to the extent that I’d gone over the edge without having the presence of mind to stick out a paw when I whizzed past the gutter and into the precipice.

By the time my survival instincts finally kicked in, I was one floor down, with the ground rising up fast. In desperation I’d grabbed at the wall, and that’s when this rod turned up out of the blue and I managed to save myself. The bad news was that I was now dangling between the second and third floor, with no way to go but down. Cats may be capable of gravity-defying feats of acrobatics but we’re not exactly Spider-Man. We can’t scale walls!

So there I was, wondering how I was going to save myself from my predicament when suddenly a window below me opened and Chase’s head appeared.

“Hey, buddy,” he said.

“Hey, Chase,” I said, even though I knew he couldn’t understand feline.

“Now how in the hell did you get up there?”

I could have told him but instead I produced the kind of plaintive mewling sound people have come to expect from cats in great trouble. Firemen used to saving cats from trees know the kind of mewling I’m talking about, and clearly Chase got the message.

“Listen, just jump, okay?” he said. “I’ll catch you.”

I gave him a doubtful look. Yeah, right, that look indicated. What if at the last moment he retracted his arms and said,‘Just kidding!’

Not that I didn’t trust Chase but he’s human, after all, and humans are notoriously unreliable. One minute they stuff their faces with cake and chocolate and the next they’re on the treadmill, swearing never to touch sugar ever again in their lives, before starting the whole cycle once more two days into their diet.

“Um…” I said.

“Jump,” Chase said encouragingly, holding out his arms. “I got you.”

“I don’t know about this.”

“Trust me.”

“Trust him, Max!” Dooley bellowed from below.

I looked past Chase and saw Dooley staring up at me. And so were Harriet and Brutus and a big crowd of people, practically all of whom were pointing their smartphones at me, filming the whole thing. Oh, great. This was going to go viral, wasn’t it? There went my reputation. I’d be the talk of the town for months to come, and not in a good way.

“Jump!” Dooley repeated. “He’s Jesus!”

And that did it. For one thing, how long was I going to be able to hold on? Not very long. And then what? The fire department would show up with their ladders and I’d have to be saved by a fireman. I’d been through the process before and even though I loved firemen word would spread and even before the fire truck arrived all of Hampton Cove would come running, with their smartphones and then I’d be the laughingstock of the nation.

“He’s Jesus!” Dooley repeated, and that did it.

I closed my eyes and I jumped.

Moments later I landed safely in Chase’s arms.

He looked down at me, his features backlit by the sun. Like a halo of light.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “It’s really you.”

“See?” Chase asked with a smile. “I told you I’d catch you.”

“Max!” Odelia cried. She was inside, right next to Chase, and took me over.

“He’s Jesus,” I said, still under the influence of the vision I’d just had. Chase stood in the window, that halo of light now illuminating his long hair and his perfectly shaped face.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” said Odelia, burying my face in her hair.

But I only had eyes for Chase.“Why did you shave your beard, Jesus?” I asked. “No wonder I didn’t recognize you. You shaved your beard to walk among us undetected.”

Chase patted my head.“You’re all right, little buddy,” he said. “You’re all right.”

“I am now,” I agreed. “I am now.”

And then Chase took me over from Odelia, walked over to the window and held me up for the crowd below to see. They all broke into loud cheers and applause.

I gotta tell you, it was a real Lion King moment, only better. I mean, come on. Jesus!

Once we were downstairs again, we were greeted like rock stars, people flocking around. Man, oh, man. It was a real eye-opener for me. So this was what it felt like to enjoy your five minutes of fame. I kinda liked it. A real ego-boost, let me tell you.

Finally, things settled down, a band began to play, and the party kicked into higher gear, with Odelia, Gran, Marge, Chase and Uncle Alec standing together, discussing clues and suspects and whatnot. Harriet, Brutus and Dooley also gathered around.

“So what happened, Max?” asked Brutus.

“I was kicked off the roof by a femme fatale and saved by Jesus,” I explained, giving them the CliffsNotes version of events.

“That’s great,” said Brutus, a little doubtfully. “So what did you find out?”

“That Odelia is one lucky lady,” I said. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing much,” said Harriet. “Apart from the fact that I don’t like caviar.”

“They have caviar?” asked Dooley.

“Sure. They’ve got everything.”

“They sure do,” said Odelia quietly, her face suddenly heaving into view. She then proceeded to distribute sizable morsels of the most delicious fish dish I’d ever tasted. “There’s more where that came from,” she promised. She then tapped my nose. “How are you feeling, flyboy?”

“Great,” I said. “Thanks to Chase.”

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” she said, smiling.

“He’s the best,” I said, also smiling.

“Does he have a sheep?” asked Dooley.

But Odelia had already moved out of earshot, on a mission to procure us more food. People were dancing, the band was rocking, and I was starting to experience that mellow feeling that comes upon you when adrenaline levels start settling down. I could suddenly feel a nap coming on, and so when our humans started drifting towards the cars, I didn’t complain. The entire drive back I slept like a log, and so did Dooley, Harriet and Brutus. I’d always wondered what divine intervention looked like, and now I knew it firsthand. Though I’d call it Chase Intervention instead—after my hero and savior.

Odelia was one lucky woman. And I was one very lucky cat. And I was still basking in that warm and fuzzy glow when the car suddenly jounced to a halt and Odelia announced in chipper tones,“Wake up, you guys. We’re here!”

When I glanced out the window I recognized where we were and promptly broke out in a cold sweat.

Oh, no.

Vena’s!

Chapter 37

“So what have we here?!” boomed Vena.

I cringed, and so did the rest of the cat contingent. Vena has that effect on cats. She has a big voice, an even bigger personality, and resembles The Rock in more ways than one. She stood before us, hands planted on her hips, a mass of muscle and hearty good cheer.

“They’ve got a cold,” Odelia intimated.

“Yeah, they’ve been sneezing and coughing all day,” Gran chimed in.

“The poor dears,” Marge added.

“Let’s have a look,” said Vena. Without effort, she picked me up and plunked me down on the operating table. I fully expected her to start probing me with all manner of metal implements before plunging some type of syringe into my neck but instead her surprisingly gentle touch and warm hands performed a quick but thorough examination.

“Mh,” she said. “He’s got a cold, all right, but only a minor one. Nothing to worry about.” She gave me a tickle behind the ears. “You’ll be right as rain in no time, Max.”

“Oh, that’s great news,” said Odelia.

“Thanks… Vena,” I said, surprised to get off so easy.

“You’re welcome, buddy,” she said, almost as if she could understand what I said.

“See?” said Gran. “I told you not to worry.”

“I didn’t worry,” I said indignantly.

“No, but I did,” said Dooley.

“Dooley is the worrier of this little gang of cats,” said Odelia with a smile.

In short order, my friends underwent the same treatment, until finally Brutus was on the table.

“He’s got spots,” said Odelia. “So you may want to look at those.”

“Spots?” asked Vena. “What spots?”

“Red spots. On my chest,” said Brutus. “Do you think it’s cancer? Am I going to die? I was baptized last night. Shanille said Jesus would save me but I’m not sure she wasn’t full of crap. She’s the reason we got this cold, you know. She dunked us into this gigantic vat of ice water and now I feel worse than ever, so—”

“Stop babbling, Brutus,” said Harriet.

Brutus abruptly stopped babbling.

“He has spots on his chest,” said Odelia, translating Brutus’s gibberings. “Red spots.”

“Probably been drinking,” said Gran. “What?” she added when Marge rolled her eyes. “Pets can have a drinking problem, too. You should have seen my husband’s dog Rex. The two of them always went on their benders together. Came home drunk as skunks.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” Brutus said indignantly. “Teetotaler all the way.”

“It’s so funny the way your cats talk, Odelia,” said Vena with a smile.

“Yeah, they’re real talkative,” said Gran. “Blabbermouths, the lot of them.”

“I wonder where they get it from,” Marge murmured.

“Let’s check those nasty spots, shall we?” Vena said, and parted Brutus’s fur like Moses the Red Sea.

Brutus giggled.“You’re tickling me,” he laughed.

“Mh,” said Vena finally. “Myes. I see what you mean. Spots. Red ones.”

Brutus stopped giggling. Instead, a look of panic came over his face.“Oh, no!” he cried. “It’s cancer! She’s going to put me down! Please don’t let her put me down! Save me! I’m too young to die! Don’t let me dieeeeee!”

Odelia smiled indulgently but didn’t respond. Long experience has taught her it’s unwise to be seen talking feline in front of other people. Even veterinarians. Especially veterinarians. They might put her down instead. “So what do you think?” she asked.

“Pollen!” Vena boomed.

“Pollen?”

“Pollen! Nothing to worry about.”

“But I thought pollen affected the eyes and nose?”

“Not with cats it doesn’t. Pollen leads to atopic dermatitis, also known as skin allergy.” She gave Brutus a pat on the head. “Which is what this fellow is suffering from. Usually the rash will appear on the outside of the ears, on the head, face or paws. In this big fella’s case it manifested on the chest. Nothing that some medication won’t take care of.”

“That’s great,” said Odelia, clearly greatly relieved.

“Wait, I’m not going to die?” asked Brutus.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Just an allergy. To pollen.”

“What’s pollen?” asked Dooley.

“It’s the yellow powdery stuff you find inside flowers,” I said.

“Huh,” said Brutus. He looked down at Harriet. “Babe! I’m not going to die!”

“Of course you’re not going to die,” said Harriet, looking peeved. “Making a big fuss about nothing.” And she stalked off, her tail high. But when she passed me, she gave me a wink. She might not have shown it, but I knew she’d been worried about her mate, too.

And while Vena discussed Brutus’s treatment with Odelia, I happened to glance up at a shelf that was littered with Thank You cards from grateful pet owners, boxes of medicine samples, plush cats and dogs and all manner of pet toys. It also contained a mock-up of a hamburger—the popular dog toy. It was one of those plastic hamburgers, looking pretty realistic, too, and instantly reminded me of Big Mac. And as I stared at the hamburger, I was suddenly struck with an idea so novel and riveting that I momentarily forgot where I was. Only when Odelia told me it was time to go did I become aware of my surroundings again.

All the way home I found myself lost in thought, and by the time we arrived at Casa Odelia I’d made up my mind about the course of action to take. I could have told Odelia but I thought it was probably better to check out a few things first. And I knew exactly who to ask.

Chapter 38

That night, a soothing blanket of darkness and silence had draped itself across the happy little town of Hampton Cove, that jewel in the Hamptons crown. Revelers were enjoying the nightlife in places like Southampton, East Hampton or Montauk, but here locals slept the sleep of the peaceful. So did Odelia who, after a long and strenuous day, enjoyed the warmth of her comfy bed and would have enjoyed it even more if not a strange voice had suddenly started competing with the sweet dreams she was entertaining.

She frowned, the blanket of sleep rudely ripped apart, and opened her eyes.

“I found a love,” the voice was whining.“Darling just dive right in.”

She instantly recognized it as Ed Sheeran’sPerfect, only this obviously wasn’t Ed Sheeran straining his vocal cords but some amateur caroler. Or it might have been a cat undergoing a thoroughly painful castration.

She winced as the unknown singer transitioned into the second verse, effectively massacring poor Ed’s beautiful ode to love.

Neighbors left and right had also caught on, and voices now competed with the singer, shouting such encouragements as,‘Shut up!’ and ‘We’re trying to sleep here!’

Finally, Odelia couldn’t suppress her curiosity any longer, so she got out of bed and padded over to the window. She peeked through the curtains and when her eyes landed on the lanky male figure standing under her window, singing his heart out, she gasped in shock.

The Ed Sheeran wannabe was none other than… Chase!

She threw the curtains wide and opened the window.

When Chase saw her appear, he smiled and redoubled his efforts to butcher the song. And then the first boot landed. It landed at Chase’s feet and he stared down at it for a moment, not comprehending. The second boot hit him against the shin but only when a third projectile hit him in the face did he finally get the message.

“You better come in,” Odelia said quickly, not wanting her boyfriend to be pummeled with a waffle iron or Crockpot next.

Chase looked a little dazed but staunchly refused to back down. Going into the song’s final stretch, he belted out those last few notes with a zeal and a fervor possibly better reserved for a nobler cause. Still, it touched Odelia’s heart that he would do such a thing for her—expose himself to bodily harm to serenade her like an old-world troubadour.

The final note died away, Chase smiling up at her.

And then he was hit with a skillet and went down hard.

“Oh, crap!” Odelia cried and hurried down the stairs. Racing out into the backyard, she knelt down next to her knight in shining armor—which he could have used at this point—and saw that he was shaken but conscious.

“Odelia,” he said, a smile curling up his lips.“You look perfect tonight.”

“Oh, Chase,” she said. “Thank you so much. That was… lovely.”

It was, after all, the thought that counted, not the execution.

From next door, Marge and Tex’s faces had appeared in their bedroom window.

“Way to go, Chase!” Tex yelled, giving the singing cop two thumbs up.

“Wonderful song choice, Chase,” Marge said, wrapping her nightgown around herself.

“Thanks, Marge,” he said. “And I’ve got your husband to thank for it.”

“Who threw the skillet?” asked Gran, her head stealing out from her bedroom, like a turtle out of its shell. She’d probably waited until the sky stopped raining kitchen paraphernalia.

“Never mind the critics. You did great, son!” Tex cried.

“Give the kids some privacy, Tex,” said Marge.

Three heads retracted back into their homely shell and then it was just Odelia and Chase and the big canopy of stars in that great expanse of sky overhead.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Chase with a grin.

As he got up, he rubbed the spot on his noggin where the skillet had impacted.

Once inside, Odelia sat the wannabe Ed Sheeran down on a kitchen stool and inspected his head.“You’ll have a nice bump,” she said after a cursory check.

“It’s worth it,” he growled and dragged her onto his lap, then planted a kiss on her lips. When she came up for air, she was feeling dizzy. He might be a lousy singer but he was a great kisser.

“So my dad put you up to this, did he?” she asked.

He became serious.“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about ever since your grandmother moved out. I just wasn’t sure how to launch into it. And since our dinner date was interrupted by this Chris Ackerman business…” He shrugged. “I just figured your dad might have a few tips for me.”

“Tips for what?” she asked.

“Odelia Poole,” he began, his gold-flecked eyes turning molten. “I’m not a man who minces words so here goes.” He’d clasped her hands in his and she discovered she was holding her breath. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re the one for me—the woman I love. And I’ve been thinking it’s time for us to take the next step. To take this to another level. So what do you say we officially move in together? Technically I’d be the one moving in with you, as the alternative would mean you moving in with me and your uncle.”

She smiled. This was a no-brainer.“Yes, I would love to move in together, Chase.”

He grinned and then they kissed and little angels popped out all around and blew their little trumpets and sang their little hearts out. And not a single skillet zoomed through the air.

Finally, they let go and Odelia looked around. Something was missing from this scene and she suddenly realized what it was. Her cats. They were nowhere to be found.

Probably wandering about in the park. She couldn’t wait to tell them. Judging from the way Max and Dooley had taken a shine to the burly cop, they’d be over the moon.

She took Chase’s hand in hers and gave him a coy look. “Wanna check out your new digs, Detective Kingsley?”

“Don’t mind if I do, Miss Poole,” said Chase.

And as they headed up the stairs, she imagined the look on Max and Dooley’s faces when they finally arrived home and found Chase in Odelia’s bed. She smiled at the thought.

Chapter 39

Not for the first time I decided to engage cat choir in my sleuthing efforts. So Dooley and I—along with Brutus and Harriet—headed down to the park to enlist our friends in the scheme I’d worked out while driving home from Vena’s. As I’d expected, they were all game, and so the search began. I just hoped that not too much time had passed since the fateful events at the library. By now two whole days had passed, and Hampton Cove’s council had strict rules about garbage collection so our window of opportunity just might have closed.

Dooley and I had decided to search in the immediate vicinity of the library, while the other cat choir members looked along ever-widening circles. If my hunch was right, before this night was through we should be able to come up with something.

Brutus, who seemed reborn after Vena’s diagnosis, was our most enthusiastic searcher, along with Harriet, who, in spite of her initial grumblings, was happy as a clam.

“So you think Brutus will be all right?” asked Dooley as he tentatively checked the dumpster closest to the library.

“I think Brutus will be just fine,” I returned. “Especially with Vena’s treatment.”

“You know? I’m starting to think that Vena may not be our enemy, Max.”

I’d been thinking the same thing. Our visit had been distinctly painless and even—to some extent—enjoyable.

“Maybe she’s not out to hurt us,” Dooley continued.

“Only the future will tell,” I said, jumping down from the dumpster. I didn’t enjoy this consequence of my crazy theory. And if I was wrong a lot of cats were going to hate my guts.

Dooley had caught on, too.“What if we don’t find anything, Max?”

“Then we’ll probably get kicked out of cat choir.” Again.

“I don’t mind. You’re my friend and I will always stand by you,” said Dooley.

The unexpected statement gave me pause.“Aw, Dooley. You’re my friend, too.”

“You know—when the apocalypse finally comes, I hope we won’t be ripped apart by the tsunami’s massive waves and terrifying mayhem. Or by the hot lava that will push up through the earth’s cracked crust. When finally the end comes, I hope we’ll die in a blaze of fire and destruction together. Wouldn’t that be just great?”

Great wasn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe Dooley’s predictions. I decided to try one more time to change his mind. “Look, the apocalypse may never happen, Dooley.”

“Oh, I know,” he said to my surprise. “But you don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Actually, I do. I think everything is going to be just fine, buddy.”

Dooley smiled.“Oh, Max, I love you but you’re so naive. You believe everything you see on the internet. All these disinformation campaigns. All that fake news. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. No, you have to start checking out some of thisreal news. Like the fact that a comet is on its way to earth right now and will hit us in exactly three days.”

I shook my head. Absolutely hopeless. Just like our search in Hampton Cove’s dumpsters. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. And now Shanille would be upset that she’d skipped a cat choir rehearsal to prove my crazy theory.

Just then, a familiar cat trotted up to us. It was Clarice.

“Dumpster-diving, Max?” she asked.

“Um, not exactly,” I said.

She directed an icy look at me.“You do know that this is my territory, right?”

“I… thought this was Big Mac’s domain?”

“Not exactly. Iallow Big Mac to scavenge here. First he asked me for permission, though—and agreed to pay me my usual fee. Fifty percent.”

“Fifty percent…”

“Of his haul.”

“We’re not looking for food,” said Dooley. “We’re looking for clues!”

Clarice narrowed her eyes.“Clues.”

“We could give you fifty percent of our clues,” Dooley suggested, “but first we have to give our clues to the police. They’re going to need them to put the bad guys away, see?”

Clarice didn’t appear particularly interested in fifty percent of our clues, though. She made a dismissive sound. “You can keep your clues, city slicker.”

“You could help us,” I said as she started to walk away.

She threw me a skeptical look over her shoulder.“Me? Helpyou?”

“There’s fresh pizza in it for you,” said Dooley. “Barbecue chicken pizza.”

Her upper lip rose in a snarl.“Do I look like the kind of cat who eats junk food?”

To be honest she looked like a cat who gobbled down rats and other vermin whole.

“We can get you anything you like,” I said, sweetening the deal. “Anything at all.”

“I already have everything I like.” She gestured around. “All the food I need. Fresh air. My freedom. So what could you possibly offer that I’d be even remotely interested in?”

“How about your own bowl, your own cat bed, your own nook in our house?”

Clarice eyed me suspiciously.“Your human already offered me free passage into your home. To come and go as I please. Unlimited access to her food supply.”

“Yes, but now you would get your very own space in your very own home.”

It was a grand offer, but I wasn’t at all sure she would go for it. Then again, Clarice was an unpredictable cat, so there was no way to know how she would react.

Finally, that inscrutable expression seemed to thaw.“Home,” she muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

“My own bowl.”

“Yup. And your own bed.”

The silence stretched on for a moment while she pondered this. She gave me a skeptical look.“You’re not pulling my paw, are you, cat? Because you know what I can do with even one paw tied behind my back. Or three.”

“Oh, no! I would never pull your paw.”

“Fine,” she growled. “I’ll take it.”

“Great!” I cried, much relieved.

“Not that it matters much,” Dooley decided to put in his two cents. “Since the world is ending in a couple of days you won’t have much time to enjoy your new home anyway.”

Clarice decided to ignore this outburst.“Follow me,” she snarled.

We followed her. She took us around the corner to a row of large round trash cans with lids. She walked up to the third can in the row and reached up to give the lid a shove. It clattered to the ground. Then she stood to the side and casually started to lick her paw.

“Look inside,” she said.

I looked inside. And there it was. The holy grail. The clue I’d been looking for.

Chapter 40

Odelia woke up and wondered why it was still dark out. She blinked confusedly and looked around with a heavy heart. Realizing it wasn’t her heart that was heavy but that something was pushing down on her chest, she realized it was Max sitting on top of her.

“Odelia!” he was saying, trying to keep his voice down. “Wake up! We found it!”

“Found what?” she muttered, still sleep drunk.

“The proof we need to take down Chris Ackerman’s killer!”

At these words, she was suddenly wide awake.“What?”

“We found it!” he repeated. “In a trash can!”

“In a trash can,” Dooley echoed from the floor next to the bed.

Odelia sniffed. There was something rancid about the air in her room.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s us,” said Harriet, seated next to Dooley.

“We’ve been dumpster diving,” explained Brutus, also part of the small troupe.

“It was Max’s idea,” said Dooley.

“But I showed them where to find the thing,” said a fifth cat.

Odelia stared at this newcomer. She was small, she was scruffy-looking, and she looked vaguely familiar in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

“You remember Clarice,” said Max. “I said she could stay here if she wanted to.”

“Only as a last resort,” said Clarice. “And only in case I run out of fresh rats.”

Odelia wrinkled her nose.“Um… Guys? Could you tell me what’s going on exactly?”

Next to her, Chase stirred, then murmured,“What’s going on with your cats, babe?”

There was a momentary silence, then Max asked,“What is Chase doing in your bed?”

“Yes, what is Jesus doing in your bed?” asked Dooley.

“We decided to move in together,” she said.

“Are you talking to your cats?” asked Chase. “Cause it sounds to me like you are.”

“Go back to sleep, honey,” she said soothingly. “I’ll go and give them some… milk.”

“You do that. And tell them to shut up and let us sleep,” Chase mumbled.

Odelia threw off the duvet and swung her feet to the floor.“Follow me,” she whispered, then tiptoed out of the room, the small clowder of cats following in her wake. Once downstairs, she flicked on the light in the kitchen and plunked herself down on the couch, yawning freely. “Now tell me all about it.”

And Max and the others did.“First off, I promised Clarice a cat bed and her very own bowl,” he said.

“Done,” said Odelia.

“She’s the one who found the thing,” he explained.

“Great work, Clarice.”

“Thanks,” Clarice said grudgingly. She directed a suspicious look at Odelia. “But don’t think for a minute that this means I’m domesticated. I’m a wild cat and that’s the way I’ll stay.”

“Fair enough,” said Odelia, conceding this point. “What else?”

“My spots are practically gone,” said Brutus happily.

“Nobody cares about your spots, Brutus,” Harriet snapped.

“Great news, Brutus,” said Odelia, wondering if this was the reason they’d dragged her out of bed. “Cat bed for Clarice and spots are clearing up. Super duper. That’s it?”

“Tell her about the thing!” Dooley said.

“I am telling her!” said Max. “Though I probably better show you,” he added.

“Show me? Show me what?”

Max hesitated.“Are you up for a little drive?”

[Êàðòèíêà: i_002.png]

When finally Odelia found herself looking down the trash can Max had singled out for her attention, she had to admit he’d outdone himself this time.

“Amazing,” she said. “Are you sure about this?”

“Pretty much,” said Max. “It was the fake hamburger, you see.”

She didn’t, but she nodded anyway. Then she took out her phone. “I better wake up my uncle. He’s going to want to check this out.”

“What about Chase?” asked Max.

“There’s no way I can tell Chase that my cats found the key piece of evidence in Chris Ackerman’s murder investigation,” she said.

“So what are you going to tell him?”

She smiled.“I’ll think of something. Uncle Alec! Sorry to wake you. You’re not going to believe this…”

[Êàðòèíêà: i_002.png]

As it was, Uncle Alec did believe it. Long association with Odelia and her cats had taught him that nothing was impossible when it came to their powers of observation and keen deduction. He arrived five minutes later, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed, which probably he had, his shirt untucked and the few remaining hairs on his head standing up.

“Where is it?” he asked, and when Odelia gestured to the trash can, he took out an evidence baggie and stared down at the piece of evidence Max had unearthed—or Clarice. The story was still a little fuzzy to Odelia.

“I think you’re going to need a bigger bag,” she said.

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Your cats found this?”

“My cats found this.”

“Huh. I guess I won’t be puttingthat in my report.”

“Not if you don’t want to freak out my new live-in boyfriend you won’t.”

Alec grinned.“I knew he’d pull it off.”

“He told you about the Ed Sheeran thing?”

“Are you kidding? He practiced on me first. The kid’s got crazy singing skills.”

Odelia decided not to dissuade her uncle from this conviction.

Chase had a lot of skills, but singing wasn’t one of them.

“So what happens now?” she asked.

“Now we send this off to the lab and see what comes back.”

“You better check all the CCTV cameras in the area.”

“Oh, I’m going to—don’t you worry about that.”

He took out a bigger baggie, a pair of tweezers, and plucked out the item, then deposited it into the baggie with a look of satisfaction on his face.“Nailed it,” he grunted.

“Not yet. We still have to identify—”

“Trust me, I will. You go on home. You’ve done enough.”

“But—”

“Go home, Odelia. Give your boyfriend a wake-up kiss. I’ll handle the rest.”

And he stalked off, an officious swagger to his hips, got into his car and drove off.

“That’s it?” asked Max.

“That’s it,” said Odelia.

“But… who did it?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea. And I’m going to prove it.”

Of course she could have let her uncle take care of things, as he’d indicated, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this was her investigation, and she was going to see it through to the end—whatever her uncle said.

Chapter 41

Chase woke up in an empty bed, his hand touching the spot where Odelia had been when he went to sleep. The spot was cold. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. He vaguely remembered some middle-of-the-night cat emergency, and Odelia slipping out of bed to feed them milk. So had she stayed up and gone straight to work? Or was she downstairs, still officiating the cat’s convention? To be completely honest, he wasn’t all that big on cats. Not that he was a cat hater, per se, but he’d never understood the extreme lengths cat lovers would go to to appease their furballs.

When he felt movement near his feet, he glanced down and saw that those furballs were fast asleep at the foot of the bed: four cats lying in a row. He had to admit, when they were sleeping like this they looked peaceful enough. Cute, even.

“So where’s your master, huh, cats?” he asked.

Max opened his eyes and he could have sworn the big red cat not only understood the question he’d posed him but was actually answering in lazy tones! Huh. Weird.

He got out of bed and sauntered to the staircase.“Odelia?” he yelled from the top of the stairs. “Are you down there?”

When Max suddenly appeared next to him and meowed some more, he started.

“What are you trying to tell me, buddy?” he said, then laughed at his own silliness. Cats were dumb creatures. Mousers, by and large, with some minor capacity for entertainment. He picked Max up and carried him down the stairs. “Are you hungry?” he asked, setting him down in the kitchen. A row of bowls sat on the floor, five in a row, and all of them featured names and were filled to capacity. So Max was definitely not hungry.

The little guy kept meowing up a storm, though, and since Chase had no way of determining what the heck he was trying to tell him, he merely grinned and decided to take a shower and start his day. Arriving upstairs, he saw that Chief Alec had left him a voice message. As he listened, his eyebrows rose.“What the…” he muttered.

There had been a breakthrough in the case, and he’d slept right through it!

“Christ,” he said.

This seemed to attract Dooley’s attention, who looked at him almost reverently.

“Hey, buddy,” he said. “Max is downstairs, Odelia is nowhere to be found, and I gotta run. Think you’ll be able to take care of yourself?” Then he laughed. “You big dummy! Now you’re talking to cats!”

He walked into the bathroom. Time for a quick shower and then he was off. He actually felt pretty excited about moving in. Time to put this relationship with Odelia on a more permanent footing. Soon he was enjoying the cascade of water and loudly singing the only song he’d ever memorized in his life. Ed Sheeran’sPerfect.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_002.png]

I was truly worried about Odelia. She’d given us the slip and now she was out there somewhere, chasing the bad guys with no backup from her legion of felines. I just hoped she would be careful. Odelia has a tendency to go all gung-ho without considering the consequences. When she’s on the hunt she sometimes forgets that the peopleshe’s hunting are dangerous killers and creeps and would just as happily turn on her if it suited them.

And I’d just settled down in front of my bowl and gulped down a few tasty morsels when a loud panting sound reached my ears. Fully expecting Brutus, I didn’t even look up. But when the panting sound was replaced with stertorous breathing, I said, “Try to breathe through the nose, Brutus, not the mouth.” I hate mouth-breathing cats, don’t you?

“Huh?” said Brutus, only when I didn’t recognize his gruff voice I finally looked up and discovered it wasn’t Brutus but Big Mac breathing down my neck!

“Big Mac! What are you doing here?”

Probably all the pizza we’d fed him had led to him coming back for more.

“It’s your human!” said Big Mac. “I think she might be in big trouble.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was downtown just now, staking out the Hampton Cove Star hotel, when suddenly I saw your human head inside. So I went in after her, and followed her all the way upstairs. She went into a room and never came out. Also, when I put my ear against the door, I heard people arguing and I heard your human yelling. And then she went quiet. Too quiet!”

A cold grip squeezed my heart.“What do you mean she went quiet?”

“Just that. First she was yelling and then she stopped. I think she might be dead.”

“Better lead the way, Big Mac,” I said, then hurried to the foot of the stairs and bellowed, “Dooley, Brutus, Harriet! Come quick! Odelia is in trouble!”

Cats have this amazing capacity to be awake and alert in an instant. No snooze button for us. When the game is afoot, our ears prick up and we’re ready to go at the drop of a hat. And so it was now. Seconds after I’d issued my cry for help, three cats came racing down the stairs. And even as Chase was murdering poor Ed Sheeran in the shower, we were shooting through that cat flap, Big Mac in the lead, the four of us right on his tail.

“How did you get to be at the Hampton Cove Star?” I asked as we hurried along through the backyard.

“Pigs,” he said, panting.

“Pigs?”

“Okay, I admit it! I love the McRib even more than the Big Mac! And since the McRib contains pork, I wanted to see those piglets you mentioned to see what my food looks like before I eat it!”

Yuck. Who wants to eat a piglet?“They’re teacup piglets, Big Mac,” I said. “They’re not fit for feline consumption.”

“You eat piglets?” asked Harriet censoriously. “You’re an animal, Big Mac.”

“I am!” he cried. “I admit it. Iam an animal.”

We’d arrived at the house next door and I scooted in through the cat flap, then up the stairs and into Gran’s room.

“Gran!” I tooted into her ear. “Wake up!”

“Don’t hurt me, Captain Hook, I’m just an innocent virgin!” she yelled as she shot up and speared open her eyes. When she saw it was me and not Captain Hook, she grunted, “Max—what’s the big idea scaring me half to death?!”

“Odelia is in trouble over at the Hampton Cove Star!” I said urgently. “We have to save her!”

“Say no more,” she said, removing the hairnet she always sleeps in. She got out of bed and, still dressed in her flannel pajamas, followed me out of the room. Then she seemed to think better of it, returned to her room, and moments later came stalking out again, this time dressed in a pink nightgown tied around her bony frame with a golden sash. Her pale sticks for legs were bare, and she’d shoved her feet into her favorite lime-green Crocs. “Ready to rumble!” she exclaimed, and then we were off.

Chapter 42

Odelia had figured she’d have a nice civilized chat with the person she most suspected of murdering Chris Ackerman. She had a hunch, and as every good reporter knows, not to mention any halfway decent amateur sleuth, you need to follow up a good hunch with some spadework before you get where you want to be.

So she’d decided to ignore her uncle’s creed and head down to the Hampton Cove Star that morning, bright and early, and personally ferret out the truth. When her uncle had messaged her, even as she breezed into the hotel, that blood had been found on the item they’d retrieved, she felt stiffened inher resolve to finally get to the bottom of this thing.

‘Check DNA,’ she texted back.

‘Already on it,’ Uncle Alec returned promptly. ‘Will keep you in the loop.’

He’d better keep her in the loop. She was the one who’d landed this piece of evidence in his lap. Or actually Max had landed it in her lap before she’d clued in her uncle.

Speaking of Max, she suddenly became aware of a large cat trailing her into the hotel. And when she looked down, she saw that it was none other than Big Mac, the cat who’d provided them with the initial breakthrough in the investigation. He glanced up at her, then gave her a fat wink. She smiled, wondering what he was doing here all by himself.

“Are you by any chance visiting the pigs?” asked Big Mac.

“Um… yes, as a matter of fact I think I am,” she said.

“Can I join you? I’ve never seen a pig before. At least not a live one. I’ve seen pigs as the finished product—also known as the McRib—but they tell me it’s not the same thing.”

“Sure. Just follow me.”

As they rode the elevator up in silence, she wondered what Chase would say about her habit of chatting with cats. He’d probably think she was crazy.

“The meat is really succulent,” Big Mac was saying. “Pork, I mean. I’m sorry if I’m babbling. It’s just—I like food. A lot. I guess I’m one of those whatchamacallits—a connoisseur?”

“That’s fine,” she said. “We all love food.”

“Yeah, but Ilove love food,” he stressed. “Like, food is my main passion.”

She smiled. Big Mac was a little weird but he was also adorable.“You look a lot like Max,” she said.

“Yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

As the elevator halted to a stop, the thought briefly occurred to Odelia that maybe—just maybe—she should have told Chase what she was up to, but then her phone chimed again and when she read the new series of messages, she smiled knowingly.Yesss!

She knocked on the door and patiently waited. When Angelique appeared, she smiled a pleasant smile and said,“I’m sorry to disturb you at this early hour, Mrs. Ackerman, but I wonder if I might ask you a few more questions. This time it’s for my article.”

“Oh, sure,” said Angelique. “Come on in.”

The excitement of the hunt had her fully in its grip now, so when she closed the door behind her she totally forgot about Big Mac, leaving him languishing in the corridor.

“Miss Poole!” said Trey Ackerman. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Only now did Odelia notice the paper-thin scar slicing the young man’s brow. It gave him a sinister aspect. “Just collecting some more background information for my piece.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re a reporter as well as a police consultant. Please take a seat.”

She did, seating herself in an overstuffed chair near the window, while Angelique took the second chair across from the small antique table and Trey remained standing.

Suddenly Odelia felt a little uncomfortable and crowded, but she bit back the sentiment.“We talked to your ex-husband’s publisher,” she began, “and he confirmed that he saw you leave as he arrived.”

“That’s great news,” said Angelique, glancing up at her son. “That means we’re finally off your radar, right?”

“Well…” She swallowed, then decided to take a different tack. “Malcolm Buckerfield also confirmed that he offered Mr. Ackerman a new contract, and that Chris was seriously considering his offer. So it looks like Mr. Buckerfield is off the hook as well.”

“But as I understand it you have other suspects, right?” said Trey. His mother had reached out a hand and he pressed it. “This, um, robber, and then there’s the crazy stalker and of course you have met the fellow who insists he’s my father’s son.”

“Which is nonsense, of course,” said Angelique. “If my husband had an affair with this woman he would have told me.”

“Yes,” said Odelia. “I suppose he would have. Only, it’s all about motive, isn’t it? That’s what it all comes down to, over and over again.”

“Motive and opportunity,” Trey agreed, nodding. “So these three men, they had both. And now the police has the unenviable task of figuring out which one of them is the real culprit.”

“I very much doubt whether Sasha Drood had sufficient motive,” said Odelia. “He’s a thief, not a murderer, and even though he’s been in jail plenty of times, he wouldn’t want to go to jail for murder. Not a man like him. Then there’s Aldo Wrenn, who claims Mr. Ackerman was his father.But why would he kill him? All he had to do was prove his claim and he would be set for life.”

“You’re forgetting that if he really is my father’s son he stands to inherit a part of the inheritance,” Trey pointed out.

“My uncle talked to Chris Ackerman’s attorney this morning, and according to the stipulations in his will your ex-husband left the bulk of his fortune to Stacey Kulcheski.”

This was clearly news to Angelique and her son.“What?!” cried the woman.

Odelia nodded.“I’m afraid so. And Aldo Wrenn knew about this. Chris’s lawyers told him as much. Aldo wouldn’t get a penny, even if he was his son. So Aldo knew he’d never benefit from his father’s death. Only in the event that Chris stayed alive could he hope to effect a reconciliation, get into his father’s good graces and possibly earn himself a place in his will. So there goes his motive as well.”

“He could have flown off the handle and committed murder out of spite,” said Trey.

“He’s not the type,” Odelia said.

“So what about this stalker? He’s obviously crazy and extremely dangerous.”

“We’ve just received confirmation that Darius Kassman is actually Stacey Kulcheski’s cousin. He developed an obsession with your ex-husband after being introduced to him by Stacey at her home. Darius may have been obsessed, but he isn’t dangerous. Stacey vouches for him. Said he would neverhurt a fly, and most definitely not her future husband.”

“Nonsense,” Angelique exclaimed sharply. “Of course she would say that. You want to know what I think? Stacey put him up to this. This Darius Kassman is a vulnerable young man and she manipulated him into murdering my ex-husband. Especially considering the information you just gave us concerning his will.”

She clearly wasn’t happy about this turn of events. Odelia leaned in. It was now or never. “Mrs. Ackerman—can I speak to you in private?”

Trey got the message.“I’ll be in the next room,” he said, swiftly removing himself.

“What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked Angelique, a little stiffly.

“It’s about your son,” said Odelia. “We found a discarded pizza delivery outfit in a trash can near the library. We found blood on the shirt that we think matches your ex-husband’s blood type. A DNA test will be carried out, both on the blood and the shirt, which I believe will put Trey at the scene of the murder. Which means… he killed his father.”

“What are you talking about? What preposterous nonsense!”

“I’m only telling you for your own protection, Mrs. Ackerman. Trey killed his father and I’m afraid your life may be in danger as well. Which is the real reason I came here.”

Angelique stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.

“Oh, you’re such a naive little wench, aren’t you, Miss Poole? Trey—come back here!”

“No!” Odelia said, jumping up from the chair. But Angelique pushed her back down.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the woman snapped, and suddenly Odelia discovered that she was holding a small silver revolver in her hand, with the barrel pointed at her heart.

“Silly, silly girl,” said Trey, who’d come up behind her and now placed his hands on her shoulders. “Did you really think I’d go to all this trouble without talking to my dear, sweet mother first?”

“Trey adores his mother, don’t you, Trey?” asked Angelique, still pointing that revolver at Odelia. “So when he saw that I was suffering such terrible abuse at the hands of his father, he suggested we do something about it. And so the plan was hatched, and carried out to perfection.”

“Thank you, mother,” said Trey appreciatively.

“You should have burned that outfit, though.”

“Beginner’s mistake?” said Trey, a smile sneaking up his pale face.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be out of here and on our way to Mexico before these silly little small-town cops put it all together,” said Angelique. She directed a mocking look at Odelia. “Of course I knew Chris didn’t leave me a single penny. He told me. Which is exactly the reason we emptied out his bank accounts last week, transferring all of his money into an account Trey set up in the Cayman Islands. I had to pay Chris’s accountant a hefty sum but it was definitely worth it. Chris was the one who didn’t have a penny, not me. If he was going to leave me for that stupid editorof his I was going to make him pay. Big time.”

“Let me guess. You left Chris that night, making sure you were seen,” said Odelia, “only for Trey to return later, dressed as a pizza guy. Where did you get the outfit?”

“Stole it from some local pizza parlor that same night,” said Trey. “Easy peasy.”

“Weren’t you afraid to get caught?”

“Nah. Nobody pays attention to the pizza guy. I could just as well have been invisible. I saw that Drood creep on my way out, but I quickly ducked into an empty room and waited him out.” He chuckled—a terrifying sound. “I figured he’d make a perfect scapegoat and he did.”

“Too bad about the outfit,” said his mother.

“Can’t be helped, Mom. If I’d burned it, someone would have seen.”

“You could have brought it back here. We could have disposed of it together.”

“What’s done is done. Next time we plan a murder we’ll pay more attention to the details.” A slow smile crept up his pale face. “So how doyou want to die, Miss Poole?”

Chapter 43

Odelia sat trussed up in the small bedroom. Two piglets were staring at her. Unfortunately for her she could speak feline but she couldn’t speak pig. Not that it mattered, for her mouth was taped up with heavy-duty electrical tape and her hands and feet were tied up as well. She’d read somewhere that pigs have very sharp teeth, so they could have set to work freeing her of her restraints. Instead, they just sat there on the bedstaring.

She sincerely hoped that Trey Ackerman had been kidding when he told her that parting gag about murdering her. She did not feel like dying, especially now that her life was slowly coming together. Chase was moving in, her cats were all in good health, and she still had both her parents and her crazy grandmother.

Speaking of Gran, she suddenly thought she heard her voice.

Then the door was thrust open and Gran came walking in! More accurately put, Gran came flying in, landed on the floor and then the door was closed behind her.

“Hey, you brute!” Gran cried, balling her fists. Then she spotted her granddaughter. “Odelia! There you are! I thought they’d already filleted you like a fish.”

She crawled to an upright position and crossed the room.

“Are those pigs?” she asked.

“Get me out of this tape!” Odelia cried. Though it sounded more like, “Wepmeouoheeape!” It’s tough to enunciate clearly when your lips are taped up.

“Hold your horses,” said Gran. “I’m getting there. This tape is pretty sticky.”

It took the old woman a while, but finally she managed to yank the tape off.

“Owowoowwww!” Odelia cried.

“Oh, don’t be a baby. Just think of it as a lip waxing. Saves you the trouble to do it yourself. Now how the hell did you get mixed up with those murdering bozos?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” said Odelia, removing the tape from her around her feet.

“I came here to save you, little missy. I didn’t think they’d have a frickin’ gun.”

“You should have called Uncle Alec. Or Chase. Now we’re both going to die.”

“I don’t think so. When I arrived they were packing up. I think they’re moving out.”

“Trey asked me how I wanted to die!”

“He was probably kidding. He looks like a kidder.”

“Gran, he dressed up like a pizza guy then killed his own father in cold blood.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t nice,” Gran admitted.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Let’s check the windows.”

They checked the windows. The room they were in was located on the second floor facing the back wall of another building. Too high to jump, and no one in sight they could shout for help at.

“Terrible view,” said Gran. “If I were the Ackermans I’d have lodged a complaint. Who wants to look at that horrible wall all the time?”

“I’m sure they don’t mind!”

“And I’m sure they do. Even killers mind about stuff like that, honey.”

“New plan. I’ll hide behind the door, and when they come in to kill us I’ll rush them!”

“They won’t come in. They’ll pack up and get out of here and by the time housekeeping finds us they’ll be long gone and on their way to Mexico.”

Odelia had to admit her grandmother was probably right. Why add two more murders to their resume when they could simply flee and live out their lives spending Chris Ackerman’s millions?

She sank down on the bed, causing the two piglets to bob up and down.

“Theyare pigs,” said Gran, taking a seat next to her. “How about that?”

[Êàðòèíêà: i_002.png]

“Hurry up, will you?!” Angelique shouted. “If they catch us they’ll put us in jail and throw away the key.”

“Relax, Mom. They won’t catch us.” Trey gestured with his head to the connecting door. “What about those two?”

“Leave them.”

“We could shut them up forever.”

“When did you suddenly turn into a character from a Quentin Tarantino movie?”

“I guess it’s true what they say about murder. You develop a taste for it.”

“Yeah, well, better develop a taste for escape. I want to go now!”

Suddenly he pricked up his ears.“Do you hear that?”

There was a sound outside unlike anything he’d ever heard. It tickled his funny bone. It sounded like Ed Sheeran but not. More like someone was murdering the ginger singer.

“I love that song,” he said. “But whoever is singing it clearly hates it.”

He moved over to the window and looked out. Down below, some musclebound moron was belting out the notes like nobody’s business. He didn’t seem to care that traffic had ground to a halt and that people were leaning out of their windows to gawk at him. Hecklers were shouting abuse at the guy and children pelted him with rocks but he just kept on singing, oblivious.

“Probably thinks Carson Daly is staying at the hotel,” chuckled Trey.

‘You suck!’ someone shouted, and Trey thought those were his sentiments exactly. This dude, whoever he was, would never get a four-chair turn. Not even a one-chair turn.

“Let’s go!” his mother bellowed again.

“All right, all right, all right!” he said, tearing himself away from the scene down below. “What about Kevin Bacon and Miss Piggy? We can’t leave without them.”

“You should have thought of that before you locked Miss Amateur Sleuth and her granny in there. Now are we leaving or what?”

He hated to leave his pigs. He loved the little cuties. And as he moved to the door to the other room, suddenly the door to this one exploded and before he knew what hit him a bunch of cops stormed in and the atmosphere erupted into a free-for-all of shouts and screams and pounding boots and angry faces hollering at him to‘GET DOWNNOW!’

So he did. And briefly wondered who was going to take care of his piglets.

Chapter 44

Odelia was still a little dazed as she was escorted out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. Cop cars blocked traffic and she watched in confusion as the handcuffed Angelique and Trey were escorted into a squad car and driven off at a high rate of speed, sirens blaring.

“How—what—when—” she stuttered.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Gran. “Before I left the house I instructed Marge to wake up Chase and send in the cavalry. I figured he might do what he could to save his sweetheart.”

Chase came hurrying up to them, and she jumped into his arms, happy to be alive.

“For a moment there I thought I lost you,” Chase intimated.

“For a moment there I thought so, too,” said Odelia.

“Oh, don’t be a bunch of saps,” said Gran, which was rich for a woman who loved her soap operas more than anything else. “We’re all fine and the bad guys will be punished so all is well that ends well. Now what’s going to happen to those little guys?”

She was pointing to a cop who was holding two piglets in his arms. He had a mustache and his name tag indicated that his name was Jackson. Odelia recognized him as the cop who wouldn’t let her into the library the night of Chris Ackerman’s murder. He didn’t look happy to have been awarded the particular task of taking care of Trey’s piglets. Especially since his colleagues were busy snapping selfies with him. He was going to become the latest Hampton Cove PD social media sensation, that much was obvious.

“Don’t worry about the pigs,” said Chase. “We’ll find someone to adopt them.”

Uncle Alec walked up, looking distinctly unhappy.“Odelia Poole,” he said gruffly. “What part of ‘I’ll handle things’ don’t you understand? You could have gotten yourself killed, young lady, and your grandmother in the process.”

“I just figured Angelique was innocent and wanted to warn her.”

“Next time do as you’re told,” he said sternly. “When Marge called me with the news that you were in trouble I almost had a heart attack.” He wagged a stubby finger in her face. “Never again, all right? Have mercy on your uncle’s poor ticker.”

“I won’t do it again,” she promised, seeing now how foolish her actions had been.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Alec,” said Gran. “I was there. We were fine.”

“They had a gun!”

“I’m pretty sure they weren’t going to use it.”

“You don’t know that, Ma. They could have shot you both.”

“Well, they didn’t, so now are you going to stop crying in your milk and congratulate Odelia instead? She cracked this case.”

Marge and Tex also joined them on the sidewalk, while rubberneckers all around stood taking in the scene.“Honey, I’m so glad you’re all right,” said Marge, enveloping Odelia in a hug. “When your grandmother told me to wake up Chase, I feared the worst.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” said Chase, a little indignant. “In fact I’d been up for hours.”

“He’s right,” said Marge. “He was in the shower when I arrived. Gave me a shock.”

Chase grimaced at the recollection and Odelia suppressed a grin. She would have loved to have seen the look on Chase’s face when Mom walked in on him in the shower.

“The important thing is that the bad guys will get what’s coming to them,” said Gran.

“How did you find out?” asked Chase. “I mean—how did you know where to find that pizza guy’s outfit?”

A momentary silence descended over the small company. Chase was the only one who didn’t know about the cats. “Just one of those hunches, I guess,” said Odelia. “I suddenly wondered about the pizza guy. See, the weird thing about the pizza boxes that we found at the library was that they were clean. Pizza boxes usually have leftover pizza or ketchup smears or chunks of cheese stuck to them. These boxes were brand new. Never used. So that got me thinking. What if the pizza guy wasn’t a pizza guy? What if he was the killer and he’d only dressed up as a pizza guy to throw us off the scent?”

“And then we took things from there,” said Uncle Alec. “In all fairness, though, Odelia found the outfit.”

“And a good thing I did. Today is collection day in that part of town. A couple of hours later and the outfit would have been gone forever.”

“And along with it the blood stains and DNA that will show beyond a reasonable doubt that Trey Ackerman killed his father,” Uncle Alec finished the story.

“Hard to believe that a son would kill his father,” said Chase, shaking his head.

“I don’t think he devised the plan,” said Odelia. “Angelique did. Trey just went along with it and did the actual deed—wanting to spare his mother the more gruesome aspects of the scheme she’d hatched. In fact she probably decided to kill her husband months ago, when she discovered he was planning to leave her for Stacey Kulcheski.”

“There’s only one part about this whole sordid business I regret,” said Gran.

“What’s that?” asked Marge.

Gran threw up her arms.“That I didn’t get to film the grand finale! Those bastards took away my phone!”

“I’m sure plenty of people caught the whole thing on video,” said Uncle Alec. He clapped Chase on the shoulder. “For one thing, they sure as heck caught our rising musical star Chase on tape. Ed Sheeran, watch out!”

“Thanks,” said Chase. “I kinda enjoyed being the decoy.”

“It sure delayed the Ackermans until our team was in place to break down the door.”

“Too bad I didn’t catch the big performance,” said Odelia.

“You saw the private performance,” said Chase, smiling. “Which was the better one of the two.”

Only now did Odelia realize she was missing something. She looked around.“Where are my cats?”

“Right there,” said Chase, stepping aside.

And there they were indeed: Max, Dooley, Brutus, Harriet and… Big Mac. Sitting on the sidewalk and smiling up at her. They were a sight for sore eyes.

“Oh, my babies,” she said, crouching down. They all jumped into her arms. “You caught the bad guys—you saved my life—what would I do without you?”

Chase laughed.“It’s the weirdest thing. Almost as if they can understand what she says.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gran snapped. “Cats don’t talk. Everybody knows that.”

“No, of course not,” he said, his smile vanishing. “You’re right.”

“Dumbass,” Gran grunted.

“Ma,” said Uncle Alec warningly.

“Just welcoming the kid into the family,” said Gran, and pinched Chase’s cheeks.

Epilogue

“So what did you tell Chase when you went to warn him?” asked Odelia.

“Simple. I told him I had a feeling you were in trouble,” said Marge.

“But how did you explain I was at the hotel?”

Marge took a deep breath, darted a quick look at Chase, who was assisting Tex with the barbecue as usual, then explained quietly,“I told him I’d once seen a documentary about whales being able to feel their babies were in trouble even though they were miles away. I said the same thing applied to mothers and their kids. I said I could sense you were in trouble and I had a hunch you’d had a hunch about the writer’s sonand ex-wife.”

“Seems far-fetched,” said Odelia, taking a bite from her hot dog. “He believed you?”

“Oh, he did. Immediately. You’ve got a good man there, Odelia. He’s a keeper.”

They moved off and Dooley glanced up at the sky. It had been a week since the stunning events at the Hampton Cove Star and the world hadn’t ended, which clearly puzzled Dooley.

“Trust me, Dooley,” I said now. “The world isn’t going to end. I mean, at some point it probably will, but not this week. Not even this year or even this decade.”

“You think so, Max?”

“I know so. So you can stop worrying.”

“And stop nagging us,” Harriet muttered.

“So how about those spots of yours?” I asked Brutus.

“You’re not going to believe this but they’re gone!” said the black cat. And to prove he wasn’t lying, he pressed his chest into my face.

“Nice,” I muttered.

The four of us were seated on the swing on Marge and Tex’s back porch. Tex was officiating the barbecue, aided and abetted by Chase, Uncle Alec was recounting the story of how Angelique and Trey Ackerman had been charged with murder, and Gran was messing around with her phone, checking the footage she’d shot in the course of the investigation.

“You know? You really outdid yourself this time, Max,” said Brutus.

“How is that?”

“I still don’t get how you had that sudden brainwave that led you to figure out what happened.”

“I told you. It was the plastic hamburger. I suddenly remembered Big Mac going on and on about how the pizza guy wasn’t a real pizza guy because he didn’t smell like one. So that plastic burger got me thinking. What if Big Mac was right? What if the pizza guywasn’t a pizza guy? What if it was the killerpretending to be a pizza guy? Which meant he would have ditched the outfit as soon as he got the chance. So if only we could find it—”

“We’d find the killer,” Brutus said. “Pretty clever, buddy.”

“Max followed the pizza boxes,” said Dooley. “Just like Aurora Teagarden.”

We all laughed. Dooley was right. The pizza boxes had led us to the killers.

“The real hero is, of course, Big Mac,” I said. “He’s solved the whole thing.”

We all looked in the direction of the big red cat, who was gobbling down the hamburger patties Tex kept feeding him. Finally, he waddled over in our direction. He was too big to jump up onto the swing, so he stayed where he was, then heaved a soft burp.

“And? How do you like the taste of a real burger?” I asked.

Big Mac shook his head sadly.“It’s not the same, you guys.”

“But these are real burgers—not the junk food you usually eat.”

“Yeah, but junk food tastes so much better,” said Big Mac. “Honestly? There’s no comparison. No offense,” he added for Tex’s sake.

“He can’t understand you,” said Harriet. “Only Odelia, Marge and Vesta can.”

“Weird. What about the buff dude?”

“Nope. Chase doesn’t understand us either.”

“Or the sheriff?”

Harriet shook her head.“Only the women in this family speak feline.”

“Huh. Too bad. Would be so easy if the whole world could understand us.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Clarice, who’d joined us. She’d been coming and going these last couple of days, trying to get accustomed to having her own home. I had a feeling it wouldn’t last, though. Once a feral cat, always a feral cat. Odelia had tried to domesticate her once before and it hadn’t worked. Then again, Clarice probably wouldn’t be the same if she became like the rest of us. That was part of her appeal. And the reason I liked her.

“What are you guys talking about?” she asked now.

“Humans,” said Big Mac.

“Oh, don’t get me started on humans,” she growled, darting a cold look at the humans gathered in the backyard. At that moment Odelia offered Clarice a piece of raw burger. She swallowed it down whole. Odelia laughed and fed her another piece.

“These humans aren’t so bad,” said Big Mac.

“I guess not,” said Clarice grudgingly.

Clarice and Big Mac stalked off, to gobble up some more burger, and Brutus and Harriet followed their example, only to abruptly change course and disappear through the hedge into the next garden. Brutus probably wanted to show Harriet his lack of spots.

“Do you think Clarice will be part of the gang from now on, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Pretty sure she won’t. She’s a street cat, Dooley. What’s more, she rules those streets.”

“I don’t get it.”

“We think Clarice should be saved from her dumpster-diving ways but that’s not how she feels about it. She’s free out there, the queen of the urban jungle. Sometimes I think it’s she who pities us, and not the other way around. Pities our sedentary, domesticated lives.”

“I don’t get it,” Dooley repeated.

“Have you never wanted to roam the streets as a wild cat, Dooley? Not knowing whether you’re going to find food or not, but happy with every morsel you do find? Give those old hunting instincts free rein? Become wild and free once more, like our ancestors?”

Dooley stared at me.“Is this a trick question?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered if there’s another world out there? A world beyond the safety of our houses, our backyards, the humans who protect and feed us, even this town?”

He chewed on that for a moment.“Actually, no,” he said. “I think we’re blessed, Max. Only sometimes we lose sight of the fact. We forget how lucky we are. And it takes events like the ones that transpired last week to bring that truth home to us. It takes Brutus almost dying from his spots and Odelia and Gran almost being shot and the sky almost falling down on us and the earth opening up and swallowing us whole to remember how lucky we are.”

I stared at him.“You figured that all out on your own?”

He leveled a funny look at me.“I’m not as dumb as I look, Max.”

“I guess you’re not,” I agreed.

“The thing I’ve realized this past week is that I’m probably the luckiest cat alive,” he said musingly. “I have the best humans, who love me very much—one of them is Jesus, even though I still haven’t found his sheep—I have the best buddies, in Harriet and Brutus. But most of all, Ihave the best friend in the whole wide world. You, Max. I love you, buddy.”

“I… love you, too,” I said, surprised. My eyes were suddenly moist. I wiped at them.

“Darn cold,” Dooley muttered, wiping at his own eyes.

“Yeah, darn cold,” I said, sniffling.

We sat in silence for a moment.

Then Dooley held up his fist.

I bumped it.

Boom.