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“Better don’t go in there,” Vesta advised. “Place is a crack house.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think we’re parked out in front of it?”

“I thought you wanted a quiet spot to eat our midnight snack.”

Scarlett always brought a midnight snack, as both women got those midnight cravings most people get, but amplified by the fact that they were engaged in a high-peril endeavor, which as everyone knows makes the blood pump faster, which in turn makes you hungry. She wasn’t sure this was all scientifically kosher, but it was her explanation for the phenomenon and damn if anyone said it wasn’t so.

“My contact at the precinct tells me drugs are being dealt out of this here house,” said Vesta. “And I want to catch them in the act, snap some pictures, and get them all arrested.”

“Your contact at the station? You mean your son?”

“No, I don’t mean my son,” she scoffed. “If it were up to Alec we wouldn’t even be out here patrolling. I’m talking about Chase. At least he’s on our side. Unlike my own son, who seems to think we’re just two crazy old ladies out to create trouble.”

“Look, I don’t care if that’s a crack house,” said Scarlett. “I need to use the bathroom, and if I wait much longer I’m going to have to go right here in your car.”

“Maybe we should get you those Poise Pads. The heavy-duty ones.”

“Hey! I’m notthat old!”

“Okay, so go if you have to. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Maybe you can come with me?” Scarlett suggested. “And bring the pepper spray,” she added. “And the stun gun.”

“I’ll bring the stun gun, the pepper spray and my ex-husband’s shotgun,” said Vesta as she grabbed the gym bag that sat patiently on the backseat for just such a contingency. So far they hadn’t seen a lot of action, but she had a feeling that was about to change.

So they both got out and Vesta suddenly got one of those bright ideas that sometimes came to her out of the blue. Probably as a consequence of all the vitamin B she’d started to pop. She’d read somewhere it helped boost your brain activity. “You know what?” she said. “We should probably pretend that we’re two drug addicts looking to score. That way we can catch these drug dealers in the act!”

“Isn’t that called entrapment or something?”

Neither of them was exactly on top of the finer points of the law, but that had never stopped them before.“Who cares? Don’t you want to stop these people from selling drugs to kids?”

“I don’t have any kids,” Scarlett reminded her.

“I’m not talking about your kids. I’m talking about all the kids, Scarlett.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes.“Honestly? I just want to pee.”

Just then, the door to the crack house suddenly flew open, and a man came hurrying out. He was holding his phone and was talking into it, even as he crossed the street and got into a car, which just happened to be the car Vesta and Scarlett were parked right behind. In a reflex action Vesta snapped a picture of both the man and the car, and as it drove off, Scarlett suddenly yelled,“Fire!”

“I know, right?” said Vesta. “We’re on fire tonight!”

“No, there’s a fire!” said Scarlett, and pointed to the crack house.

“No shit,” said Vesta as she saw that Scarlett was right: the house they’d singled out for their big drug bust was on fire—smoke wafting from the door the man had left ajar.

“We gotta do something!”

“It’s probably those crack dealers,” said Vesta. “They must have turned the heat up too much when they were cooking all of that crystal meth.” She pressed the phone to her ear and bellowed, “Yeah, Dolores. Vesta Muffin. I want to report a fire at a crack house!”

“You got a fire in your crack?” asked the raspy-voiced dispatcher with a chuckle.

“Watch your tongue, Dolores. I’m being serious here.”

“Well, that’s a first,” said the wise-cracking dispatcher.

She placed her hand over the phone and addressed her friend, who now stood pressing her legs together awkwardly in an attempt to hold her pee.“You better start putting out that fire while I try to explain to Dolores what’s going on here.”

“Put out that fire? I’m not a fire putter-outer kinda girl, Vesta.”

Vesta crooked an eyebrow.“You need to pee, right? Well, better get started.” And as Scarlett gave her an eyeroll, she grinned.

Just then, she saw the curtains move at one of the houses located directly across the street from the crack house. And as she watched, the face of a woman briefly appeared, then disappeared into the shadows again.

Looked like they weren’t the only ones keeping an eye on things.

Chapter 7

In spite of the fact that Shanille had told us we weren’t welcome anymore at cat choir, the four of us decided to defy her outrageous dictum and go anyway. After all, who was Shanille to decide we couldn’t join the biggest social gathering in town?

Harriet, specifically, was outraged, as she kept referring to the whole thing asShanillegate, though I wasn’t exactly sure what she was talking about.

“What if she throws us out?” asked Dooley, who abhors physical violence of any kind.

“She can’t throw us out,” I said. “She would need the support of the entire cat choir and I’m sure they don’t feel the same way Shanille does.”

“But what if they do? What if all the cats in Hampton Cove hate us from now on?”

“I’m sure they don’t,” I assured my friend.

And so we decided to risk it, and set paw for the park that night. And I have to say that things weren’t as harrowing an experience as I’d surmised. Frankly, I’d been bracing myself on our trek over, mentally countering all the arguments Shanille might throw at us, and even testing the muscles in my right paw in case one of her lieutenants took a swing at me. Well, you know how it is. You build up this big thing in your head, and start arguing back and forth, putting words in the mouth of the party of the second part and then thinking up the best ways to cancel them out, and when it all comes down to it, the whole thing turns out to be one big nothingburger and you wasted all that mental energy for nothing.

“Look, maybe I exaggerated a little when I told you that you weren’t welcome anymore,” said Shanille as she walked up to me. “But you have to admit you played a pretty dirty game, Max.”

“But we didn’t play any game at all!” I cried, all those arguments in my head coming to the fore all at once. “Odelia felt that the wedding was too much for her, and so she decided she was better off canceling the whole thing. We were never consulted, Shanille, believe me.”

And even if we had been consulted, we would have heartily agreed with our human, as we personally had decided to skip the wedding, even though at a later stage Gran had arranged a safe spot for us, where we wouldn’t be trampled underfoot by the masses.

“I wanted to come to the wedding,” said Harriet. “Vesta had arranged with Father Reilly that we could sit out in front, right next to the altar. And I was really looking forward to having the place of honor, you know. To have a front-row seat to the thing.”

To be perfectly honest Harriet hadn’t been all that excited. Even seated out in front she’d been afraid someone was going to step on her precious tail and reduce it to mush, and frankly so had I.

Shanille stared at Harriet, her jaw having dropped a few inches.“Father Reilly did what?”

“He said we could sit out in front,” Harriet repeated, unaware of Shanille’s consternation, or maybe extremely aware and eager to rub it in. “Next to the altar?”

“But that’smy spot!” said Shanille. “I always sit out in front during Mass. Everybody knows that that spot is reserved for Father Reilly’s cat, andI’m Father Reilly’s cat. Notyou,” she added, pressing a paw into Harriet’s chest. “Me!”

“Please take your paws off me,” said Harriet, who’s very particular when it comes to her precious fur being soiled by the paws of other cats—or human hands for that matter. Well, she has a point, of course. Who knows where those paws or hands have been, right?

“You’re lying,” said Shanille.

“No, I’m not. Vesta said we could sit right next to the altar.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did!”

“No, she. Did. Not,” said Shanille, accentuating every word with another jab in Harriet’s chest.

Harriet pressed her lips together, and I could see that something was bubbling underneath the surface. Like a volcano, this particular cat was about to explode. I would have warned Shanille, but something told me she was beyond being reasoned with.

“If you touch me one more time…” Harriet began.

“Then what?”

“I will scratch you,” said Harriet simply.

Shanille laughed a throaty laugh.“You’ll do no such thing. I’m the leader of cat choir. If you scratch me, you’re out for good.”

“I swear to God, Shanille, you do not want to see me angry,” said Harriet, in the tone she likes to adopt when she’s about to skin a person alive and boil their remains.

“I’ll do whatever I want,” said Shanille, and gave my friend a shove that landed her on her tush.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Harriet, and then, with a low growl, she hauled off and… actually gave Shanille’s snoot a light tap!

“Hey!” said Shanille, looking stunned.

“I warned you. You do not put your filthy paws on me.”

“Dooley,” I said, “I think I just saw that stork.”

“You did? Where?!” he said excitedly.

“Come, I’ll show you,” I told him curtly, and walked off with my friend. And even as we removed ourselves from the scene, I could hear the telltale sounds of a cat fight breaking out: the caterwauling, the screeching, and the fur being ripped to shreds.

“Poor Shanille,” said Dooley. “She was really looking forward to that wedding, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess she was,” I said.

“So where’s the stork?” he said happily as he glanced around, then up at the trees and the night sky above, regarding those twinkling stars and that full moon with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Well…” I said as we paused at a nearby tree and I gave it a pointed look. “This is just the darndest thing. I’m sure I saw it sitting in this very tree just moments ago.”

“But… it’s not there anymore, Max.”

“No, I can see that. Why, shoot. Looks like we missed it.”

“Oh, darn,” said Dooley. “Now Odelia will have to wait a little longer for her firstborn.”

“Yeah, I guess she will,” I said. And as we walked on, I decided that cat choir was probably a bust, so we decided to head on home instead. And as we exited the park, and found ourselves out on the sidewalk, suddenly a familiar car drew to a stop at the curb, and the window rolled down.

“I caught a killer you guys!” Gran yelled from the car. “I caught my very first killer—all by my lonesome!”

“Not by your lonesome,” Scarlett corrected her friend’s rash statement. “I was right there with you, remember? We both caught him.”

“You caught a killer, Gran?” asked Dooley, admiration dripping from his words. “How did you do that?”

“Well, we just happened to be parked outside a known crack house, and we were about to go in and make a bust when this guy comes out, looking suspicious.”

“Very suspicious” Scarlett confirmed.

“He hopped into his car, and I managed to take a picture of the guy and the car.” She glanced down at a little notebook she always keeps handy when she’s on her nightly patrols. “Guy by the name of Joshua Curtis. Dolores looked up the license plate for me.”

“Joshua Curtis!” said Dooley. “But that’s Odelia’s client!”

“Odelia’s what?” asked Gran, much surprised.

“Odelia took on a client this morning,” I explained. “Unofficially, of course. Something about an infidelity case he wanted her to check out.”

Gran blinked and shared a look of consternation with her friend.“Well, looks like Odelia’s client just went and killed three people.”

Chapter 8

When the calls came in Odelia and Chase were seated side by side on the couch, Netflixing a romcom and enjoying this time together in post-wedding bliss. She still wasn’t completely used to the fact that she was now Mrs. Chase Kingsley, and that she was a married woman.

“Do you want another home-baked muffin, husband?” she asked.

“I would love one, wife,” said Chase with a grin. “Though to be absolutely honest, if I eat another one I’ll probably burst.”

“Me too,” Odelia admitted. “Though they did come out pretty great, husband.”

“I know, right?”

She settled herself against Chase, and purred,“When I married you I didn’t know I was marrying a baking prodigy… husband.”

“Beginner’s luck. I bet that when I try that second batch they’ll probably come out horrible.”

“Now, don’t say that. Don’t disabuse me of my sweet illusions that the man I married could, any time he wanted to, start a career as a baker.”

“Do you want to be married to a baker?”

“Nah, I love the fact that you’re a cop.”

And that’s when the phone rang—both their phones. Chase’s correspondent was Odelia’s Uncle Alec, and her own was her grandmother, who sounded a little breathless.

“Odelia!” she practically yelled into the phone, causing the latter’s offended ear to give a little lurch. “I’m so sorry, honey. If I’d known he was your client, I’d have kept my mouth shut, I swear!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy—your client—Joshua Curtis. How was I supposed to know!”

She sat up a little straighter.“What happened?”

“He came running out of that crack house that was on fire, acting all suspicious, so naturally I took a picture of the guy, and his car, and I sent it to Dolores. And now they’re on the lookout for him. Turns out he killed three people!”

“What?!” she cried, jerking up with a start.

It wasn’t long before she and Chase were out of their cozy jammies and into their regular street clothes and hurrying out the door.

“Triple homicide?” asked Chase as he slammed the car door shut and so did Odelia.

She nodded.“Turns out the guy they want for the murders is my so-called client.”

“The one who wanted to stop his best friend’s wife from having an affair?”

“Yup,” she said. “Better step on it.”

“I fully intend to,” he said, and did indeed do as he’d promised. They made record time and within ten minutes were parking across the street from the place that Joshua Curtis allegedly had tried to burn down to the ground—three people still inside.

The fire department was present, rolling up their hoses, and the street was a regular beehive of activity, firemen walking in and out of the building, as well as police officers.

Inside, they quickly met up with Odelia’s uncle, who looked a little sleepy, as if the phone call had roused him from a deep slumber. Charlene Butterwick was also there. As the mayor of Hampton Cove it was probably her duty to be present at these tragic events. She, too, looked a little sleepy, and an image flashed through Odelia’s mind of Uncle Alec and Charlene having been in the same position as Odelia and Chase just before, with both of them having fallen asleep next to one another on the couch.

“So what happened?” asked Chase.

“Three squatters, all of them dead. Two badly burned—pretty much beyond recognition, one died from smoke inhalation in the next room, but still recognizable.” Uncle Alec raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “You’ll never guess who it is.”

“Just tell us,” said Odelia. She wasn’t in the mood for guessing games, to be honest.

“Franklin Harrison.”

“The son of Herbert Harrison?” said Chase. “The real estate king?”

“One and the same.”

“Wasn’t he in some kind of trouble?” asked Odelia.

“You can say that again. Picked up several times the last couple of months. Some DWI, minor drug charges, contempt of cop…”

“So what was the son of one of the richest men in Hampton Cove doing in a squat?” asked Chase.

“Beats me. Maybe he was trying to score some drugs? This place has a bad reputation in that department.”

“Gran tells me you’ve got a suspect?” said Odelia, deciding not to mention that said suspect was sort of a client of hers.

“Yeah. Probably the first time that neighborhood watch of hers does something right. Guy by the name of Joshua Curtis was seen exiting the premises shortly before midnight. He hurried to his car, talking into his phone, then took off like a bat out of hell.”

“Here to score a fix, you think?” asked Chase.

“Possibly. Though from what I know of him he’s as straight-laced as they come. Clerks at a notary public’s office. One of those guys who would tell on his grandmother if he caught her jaywalking.”

“Clean record?” asked Chase.

“As clean as a whistle. But we’re still going to pick him up for questioning.” He checked his watch. “In fact the officers I sent are on their way to lift him off his bed as we speak.” He shrugged. “At the very least he’s a witness, and if we’re lucky, we got our guy.”

Odelia excused herself. She’d just seen a little red Peugeot drive up, and knew exactly who was behind the wheel. She flagged down the car, and even before it had fully come to a standstill, she was already jerking open the rear passenger door and getting in.

“Step on it,” she said. “We have to beat the cops.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Gran, and stomped down on the accelerator.

Scarlett grinned.“We’re seeing more action in a single night than all of last month!”

“Odelia?” said Dooley, who she discovered was seated next to her, along with Max. “We missed the stork. Max saw him, but by the time we got there, he was gone.”

She patted his head distractedly.“That’s all right, Dooley. I’m sure I’ll live.”

Chapter 9

Odelia was clearly in a big hurry, and it took us some little time before she revealed to us why this was, exactly.

“Joshua Curtis is about to be picked up for questioning,” she revealed, looking tense, “and before that happens I want to talk to him first. Find out what’s going on.”

“It’s not very nice of Joshua to murder those people,” said Dooley. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not so sure he did do that, Dooley.”

“You think he’s innocent?” I asked, interested in this novel theory.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out before he’s locked up in my uncle’s slammer.”

It didn’t take us long to arrive at our destination, and judging from the light that was blazing in the window the man was still up. Which just goes to show: not all killers are the stone-cold kind, and some do get rattled when they’ve just murdered three people in cold blood.

We all got out of the car, and hurried up the drive. Odelia applied her finger to the buzzer, and when the door was yanked open, and Joshua Curtis appeared, he looked as tense as Odelia did.“Miss Poole!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He then stared at Gran and Scarlett, clearly expecting an explanation, which Odelia declined to supply.

“The cops are on their way to pick you up,” she said, “so you better start talking, Joshua. What were you doing on Parker Street tonight?”

“Oh,” said the man, his face falling.

“Three men are dead, Joshua. And the police think you had something to do with it.”

He gaped at her.“Me!”

“You were seen leaving the scene of the crime. In fact you were walking out of the house just as smoke started to appear. What do you have to say for yourself? And better talk quick. Like I said, the police will be here any second now.”

He grimaced, as if her words didn’t come as a great surprise to him. “Look, I wasn’t—I had nothing to do with whatever happened there. I just… happened to pass by that place when I suddenly saw smoke coming out. So I did what any decent citizen would: I checked if there was a fire, and when I saw that there was, I immediately called 911.”

“You called 911?”

“Of course. It’s my civic duty to inform the emergency services whenever I become aware of an emergency in progress,” he said, sounding very much like the law-abiding citizen and stickler for upholding the law he appeared to be.

Odelia seemed much sobered by this, and more at ease than she was when she’d hurried over there lickety-split. “So… what were you doing out there, exactly? It’s not your neck of the woods now is it?”

“I… I was walking my dog,” he said, and unfortunately didn’t sound very truthful as he said it.

“I didn’t see no dog,” Gran said, putting in her two cents.

“I didn’t see no dog either,” Scarlett confirmed.

“These two ladies saw you,” Odelia explained.

He blinked, then said,“My dog must have been back in the car by the time they saw me. His… his paws get cold.”

Now there are people who are very adept at lying, and then there are others who are not so adept. And Joshua Curtis belonged in the last category, I’m afraid.

“His paws get cold,” said Odelia, sounding skeptical.

“He’s very sensitive. He gets cold paws.”

“Do you even have a dog, sonny boy?” asked Gran, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course I do. Boomer!” he called out. “Boomer, come here, boy.” He listened for a moment, then shrugged. “He’s probably asleep. Boomer is very old,” he added as if entrusting us with a confidence.

“Look, I hope for your sake, Joshua,” said Odelia, “that your story is true. Because the police…” She paused as the sound of a police siren could be heard, piercing the nocturnal silence that descends over most small towns the moment night falls.

“Here they are now,” she announced. She wagged a finger in her client’s face. “Better tell them the truth, Joshua. No lies, you hear me?”

He smiled.“I’ll tell them exactly the same thing I just told you.”

“He’s lying, Max,” Dooley said as we returned to the car, just as a police car pulled up to the curb and two officers got out.

“Yeah, I had that same impression,” I said.

“I mean, if he had a dog, it was the unsmelliest dog that I’ve ever not smelled.”

“You didn’t smell a dog?” asked Odelia.

“Nope,” Dooley confirmed. “The man doesn’t own a dog and has never owned a dog. If he had, we would have smelled him, wouldn’t we, Max?”

“Absolutely.”

“What are they saying?” asked Scarlett, as usual tickled pink by our chattering.

“They’re saying they smelled a rat,” Gran grunted.

“A rat!”

“Not a real one. The guy is lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have a dog.”

“So if he wasn’t walking his dog, then what was he doing out there?”

“Scoring dope? Murdering three people in their beds? Who knows?”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia as we all got back into Gran’s little car. Across the street two officers had now entered Joshua’s house. “Gran?”

“Yah.”

“Are you sure you didn’t see a dog?”

“She doubts us, Max,” Dooley whispered.

“A good detective always double-checks,” I whispered back.

“Nah. Not a dog in sight.”

“Darn it.”

“Look, I’m sorry, honey,” said Gran. “If I’d known he was your client, I wouldn’t have gabbed.”

“It’s not your fault, Gran. It’s Joshua’s fault that he got himself into a world of trouble. Can you bear with me for just five more minutes?”

And with these words, she got out of the car again, and hurried across the street.

“What’s she up to now?” asked Gran.

“Trying to get her client off the hook?” Scarlett suggested.

“He’s not really her client,” I said. “He’s just a guy who asked her to do a thing.”

But the finer nuances were lost on Gran, as she intently watched her granddaughter engage one of the officers in conversation.“Gee, he’s for it now,” she suddenly said. And as I looked where she was pointing, I saw that the other officer was escorting Joshua out of the house, equipped with a shiny pair of handcuffs.

“Looks like Boomer isn’t just an old dog,” said Scarlett. “He’s an invisible one, too.”

And as one officer deposited Joshua into the squad car, Odelia came jogging back and let herself fall into the seat next to us with a deep sigh.“They’ve got something on Joshua but they won’t say what it is. Clearly his story about walking his dog and just happening to be in the vicinity of that house is nonsense.”

“Of course it is,” said Gran. “I thought we’d established that already.”

“So what was he doing there?” asked Scarlett. “And why is he lying about it?”

“Beats me,” said Odelia.

“It’s not nice when clients lie to you,” Dooley said. “They should always be telling you the truth because you’re the best friend they have when they’re in a pickle.”

In spite of her irritation at her lying client, Odelia smiled, and so did Gran.“You’re absolutely right, Dooley. Now why don’t you tell Joshua Curtis that?”

“Do you think I should? Can he understand what I’m saying?”

“No, honey, I don’t think he can,” said Odelia.

“Pity,” said Dooley. “I could have made him talk.” To which we all laughed heartily—except Scarlett, of course. Though after Gran translated Dooley’s words, she laughed even harder than the rest of us.

“You know what you should do?” said Gran at length.

Odelia was frowning before her.“No, what?”

“You should prove that your client is innocent.”

“He’s not my client, Gran. He’s just a guy who asked me to do him a favor.”

“Well, then you should prove that your not-client is innocent.”

“I don’t know if he’s innocent, do I?”

“So prove that your not-client is not not-innocent!”

When Odelia groaned, Scarlett patted her hand.“I know how you feel, honey. I have to put with this every. Single. Night.”

“Oh, shut up,” Gran grumbled, starting up the car. “You love it.”

“Yeah, I do,” said Scarlett with a grin.

And then we were off again, trying to prove… something.

Chapter 10

The next morning Dooley and I were on the road again, this time in the wake of our human, who was ready to tackle this thing the way it should be tackled: with fortitude and a quizzical mind. So following our example, she decided to drop by the General Store. Though in all honesty I don’t know if picking Wilbur Vickery’s brain was such a good idea—Wilbur’s brain being not all that interesting to pick. Though the man does have a fount of gossip to spread about our local populace, of course.

And so while Odelia was shopping for wares and gossip, we sat down with Kingman, who looked a little nervous when he caught sight of us. I soon learned it wasn’t us he was nervous about but the twosome who stepped up behind us: Harriet and Brutus.

“H-hi there,” said Kingman as he eyed Harriet a little trepidatiously. “H-how are you this fine morning, your highness?”

“Your highness?” said Dooley. “I didn’t know Harriet was royalty, Max?”

“She’s not,” I said. “It’s just a way of showing respect for a person.”

“A sign of deep, deep, very deep respect,” said Kingman with a congenial smile. “Deep respect for a person I deeply… respect. Isn’t that true, Harriet?”

“Well, I’m sure I’m honored,” said Harriet, who seemed different this morning. I don’t know exactly in what sense, but she definitely was. For one thing, she had this supercilious smile on her face that seemed stuck there with superglue, and nothing appeared capable of fazing her, which isn’t like the Harriet I know. Also, even after the fracas of last night, there wasn’t a scratch on her. Not a single bit of fur out of place.

“So Odelia’s client was arrested last night,” I said, wanting to get this show on the road. “You don’t happen to know anything about the guy, do you Kingman?” I asked.

“His name is Joshua Curtis,” Dooley supplied helpfully.

“Um… no,” said Kingman. “Can’t say that I do.” He was still eyeing Harriet with a slight sense of alarm that I found very peculiar.

“No gossip that you know of?” I insisted. I couldn’t imagine that Kingman would be totally unaware of Mr. Curtis’s particulars, as he’s usually so well-informed.

“I’m telling you, Max, I don’t know anything about this guy. Not a thing. He’s a nobody. A complete zero. Never done anything, never been on anybody’s radar until now.”

“He killed three people,” Dooley said. “So he’s probably on everybody’s radar.”

“We don’t know that he killed them,” I said. “It’s quite possible that he’s completely innocent, and that he has a good explanation for what he was doing there.”

Just then, Shanille came walking up. Contrary to Harriet, she did look a little… damaged. More than a few patches of fur were missing from her corpus, and there was a thick scratch right across her nose.

“Shanille!” said Dooley. “What happened to you?”

Shanille directed a scathing look at Harriet.“That happened to me. Yourfriend.”

Harriet’s look of smug satisfaction deepened. “Oh, you’re not still sore about our little tiff, are you, Shanille?”

“Tiff? Have you seen me? I look like I’ve been in the wars! Even Father Reilly was worried. He wants to take me to the vet, if you please! Figures I’ve been attacked!”

“You should consider that a good thing,” said Harriet. “It shows that he cares.”

I was starting to understand now why Kingman was treating Harriet with such deference. He probably had witnessed the massacre, and didn’t want to be next on Harriet’s list.

“Look, if you insult my human,” said Harriet, “you should know that I won’t take it lying down. So as I see it, you got exactly what you deserved. Isn’t that right, Brutus?”

“Yup,” said Brutus. He cut a look in my direction, and I could tell that he wasn’t fully committed to Harriet’s tough new stance, taken straight from The Equalizer’s playbook.

“Well, you’re still out,” said Shanille. “No more cat choir for you.”

“I don’t think so,” said Harriet.

“You’re out of cat choir, I’m telling you.”

“Nope. I’m still very much in.”

“I’m the director and I’m telling you that you’re suspended until further notice. And if it were up to me—”

“But it’s not up to you, is it, sweetheart? You can’t just kick out a cat without a majority of cat choir endorsing your position. So why don’t we put it to a vote?” She approached Shanille, who moved back a step. “Why don’t we ask the members of cat choir if they feel their star soprano should be sidelined, just because the director says so, mh?”

“Harriet, I don’t know if…” Brutus started to say, but she shut him up with a single glance.

“I will win this thing,” she said. “I’m popular. Cats like me. They love me. Theyadore me. And I will win this vote with a smashing majority. Just you wait and see.”

“I’ll vote for you, Harriet,” said Kingman obsequiously.

“I know you will, Kingman,” said Harriet, batting her eyelashes at the stocky cat. “Now are we done? What are you guys doing here, anyway?”

“Odelia’s not-client didn’t murder three people last night and now she’s not trying to prove that her not-client is not not-innocent,” said Dooley, then frowned. “Or was it the other way around?”

“I think we should probably see what’s taking Odelia so long,” I said, feeling that soon Harriet would start canvassing us for our support. And frankly? Even though Harriet is my friend, and I mostly enjoy her company, I wasn’t sure I could condone this use of physical violence to settle her arguments.

So we moved into the store, and clearly just in time, for we found our human cornered by no less than three members of the public. Reading from left to right, they were Father Reilly, Wilbur Vickery and Ida Baumgartner.

Chapter 11

“What you did isn’t Christian, Odelia, dear,” Father Reilly said. “Getting married in Las Vegas?” He shivered visibly. “That den of iniquity? That bastion of sin? You should have gotten married right here, standing before your own community, in the church where you were baptized, the church where your parents were married, and your grandmother—though of course that was before my time.” The thought of Gran seemed to pain him a bit, so he cleared his throat and said, “What do you have to say about this, Wilbur?”

“Well, I agree with you wholeheartedly, of course, Francis. Getting married in Vegas is simply not done. Not by a nice girl like Odelia, anyway.”

“Or by a God-fearing police officer like Chase Kingsley,” Ida Baumgartner added.

“Look, I’m truly sorry things happened the way they did,” said Odelia, “but—”

“No buts,” said Father Reilly. “All is not lost, Odelia. I say we regroup and reschedule. Your wedding may be postponed but it’s not canceled. I consulted my planner this morning and I can fit you in for the second weekend of February. How does that sound?”

“That sounds absolutely wonderful,” said Ida, who was one of Odelia’s dad’s most faithful and regular patients. In fact she never skipped a week without paying the good doctor a visit and always had some new symptoms to reveal. “Thank you so much for your understanding, Father,” she continued. “And for giving Odelia this second chance.”

“Look, I think it’s very kind of you to do this,” said Odelia, “but—”

“Could we maybe reschedule, Francis?” asked Wilbur, who’d been consulting his diary on his phone. “The second weekend of February is a little difficult for me. I’ve got something going on. The national coaster collectors convention in… Vegas, of all places,” he added with an awkward little laugh. “But the weekend after I’m free.”

“That would be… the third weekend of February,” said Father Reilly, taking out his own phone. “I could slot you in. But it would have to be the Saturday. On Sunday I have a wine tasting I can’t be late for in the early afternoon. It’s all the way in… well, Vegas.”

Ida, who was consulting her diary, shook her head.“Can’t. Third weekend of February is completely full. The next available weekend is… May. First weekend in May.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m fully booked that weekend,” said Father Reilly. “Another wine tasting,” he added curtly.

Max, who’d joined the revels, now pshh’ed, and said, “Better skedaddle while they’re not looking!” And Odelia smiled and decided to follow his advice. So she left Father Reilly, Wilbur and Ida to find a date for her wedding, without having the courtesy to consult her, and decided Max was right. Time to go! As it was, they didn’t even notice that the bride, supposedly the star of the wedding, was no longer amongst those present.

“I’m so glad I decided to do the wedding in Vegas,” she said as she hurried out of the shop. “The more I think about it, Max, the more I’m starting to see that these people aren’t interested in me or my wedding. All they want is an opportunity to have a party—at my expense!”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” said Max. “The wedding is done, and there won’t be a reprise.”

“Father Reilly seems to think there will be a reprise.”

“Just avoid him for a while. He’ll get the message,” advised her cat.

“You know, Max, you’re a lot wiser than most humans I know, and that includes the three I just left in there.”

“Dooley, watch out!” said Max suddenly.

Dooley, who’d been walking with his head up, staring at the sky, almost bumped into a lamppost.

“Dooley, you have to look where you step,” said Odelia as she picked up the small gray cat, who was still inspecting the sky, even though he’d almost bumped his snoot into an unyielding object.

“I have to watch for the stork, Odelia,” he said. “If I don’t watch for the stork, how will he know where to find us? And then he won’t be able to deliver your babies.”

“Oh, so now it’s more than one baby already, is it?” she said with a grin at Max.

“I’m not sure,” Dooley admitted. “How many did you order?”

“Well, to be completely honest with you, I didn’t order any babies, Dooley.”

“No babies! But you have to put in your order, Odelia, otherwise how is the stork going to know what you want?”

She laughed heartily and hugged the small cat close. He was such a sweetheart.

But then they’d arrived at the police station, and it was time for more serious business: she’d decided that she wanted to visit Joshua and have another chat with him. If he really was innocent, he had to stop lying and start telling the truth.

So she dropped Dooley to the ground and walked in.

Chapter 12

Dooley and I both felt sorry for Odelia. It isn’t every day that your human is cornered by the parish priest and two of his most fervent parishioners and pretty much bullied into organizing a wedding for the entire town.

“I hope Odelia doesn’t go through with it,” I said therefore.

“But she has to have the babies, Max,” said Dooley. “She just has to.”

“I wasn’t talking about babies, Dooley,” I said. “I was referring to the wedding Father Reilly is so desperate to organize. Besides, why are you so anxious for our human to have babies anyway? She’s still young. She has plenty of time to start a family.”

“But if she doesn’t have babies now she will kick us out!”

“How so? I don’t get it.”

“Okay, so Shanille told me that women should get pregnant on their wedding night. That means that they’re blessed. If they don’t get pregnant on their wedding night, it means that something is wrong with the marriage, as the man cannot… perform?”

I had to suppress a smile at this.“I don’t think you should listen to Shanille, Dooley. Her world views aren’t always, um, an accurate depiction of reality, let’s put it like that.”

“But if Odelia doesn’t have babies immediately, she’ll be upset with Chase, and she’ll get divorced. That’s what Shanille said. If the husband can’t perform, the woman has every right to ask for a divorce, because the only purpose of marriage is to have babies, and plenty of them.”

“Okay, so let’s get this straight. According to Shanille, if Odelia doesn’t have babies immediately, she should file for divorce, as it’s a sign that Chase isn’t the right guy for her?”

“That’s what Shanille said. And she told me to look out for that stork. If I miss it, and those babies get delivered to the wrong address, Odelia will kick Chase out and get a divorce! And then she’ll be sad, and she might kick us out, too! Because we like Chase so much,” he added quietly.

“Look, Dooley, this is all just a lot of baloney. Please don’t listen to Shanille. If she tells you a lot of stuff that doesn’t make sense, you ask me first before you go start believing her, okay?”

“So… was she lying, Max? Was Shanille lying when she told me that Chase needs to perform or else? And what does she mean by that?”

“Um…”

“I asked her if she meant that Chase had to sing for Odelia. You know, perform a song? Or maybe a dance? And she looked at me and shook her head and walked off. So now I still don’t know what she meant.”

“Well, you called it, Dooley,” I said. “When a couple gets married the husband has to perform a song and a dance. And if they do it right, they’ll make their brides very happy.”

Dooley smiled.“I’m sure that Chase did a great job. I’ve heard him sing and he’s aces.”

Chase is a wonderful human being, a great cop, and an amazing partner to our human, but what he is not is a singer. In fact Chase can’t sing if his life depended on it. And I’ve never seen him dance, but somehow I don’t think he’s aces in that department either. But if Dooley was happy to think that he was, good for him. I wasn’t going to rob him of that particular illusion.

“You keep watching out for that stork, Dooley,” I said therefore. “But if it doesn’t arrive soon, I don’t want you to worry, all right? Stork or no stork, Odelia loves Chase, and I’m sure that he loves her, too. So there is no danger of divorce in their near future.”

“That’s good to know, Max,” my friend said earnestly, “cause Shanille really had me worried there for a minute.”

And since Odelia was such a wonderful human, we decided to give her a helping paw by spying on Uncle Alec, who, for some reason I couldn’t quite fathom, didn’t seem as eager as usual to share information with his favorite niece.

So we rounded the building, hopped up onto the Chief’s windowsill, and lay in wait, making sure we weren’t seen, and pressing our ears to the window to pick up those telling clues Odelia likes us to supply her with.

“So it was definitely murder?” we heard Uncle Alec ask Chase.

“Yeah, no doubt about it,” said Chase. “And we know who did it, too, which is a first.”

“Joshua Curtis. Notary clerk. No priors, not even a speeding ticket. In every respect a model citizen. And now this.”

“The toxicology report is clear: all three of these guys died from smoke inhalation, and all three had Rohypnol in their blood, which proves they were knocked out prior to their deaths.”

“So they were knocked out first, then someone set fire to the building?”

“Exactly. So now we know what happened, and we got the killer. Only thing we don’t know is why. Why did Mr. Model Citizen suddenly bust loose and decide to slay three?”

Chapter 13

Odelia, in spite of the fact that she wasn’t the man’s attorney, and she wasn’t a police officer either, still was granted access to Joshua Curtis. She’d told the desk sergeant that the man was her client, and no further questions were asked. Such was the advantage of being the Chief’s niece that five minutes later she was sitting in one of the interview rooms talking to the suspect.

Joshua looked a little worse for wear, compared to the last time she’d seen him: his shirt was untucked and his chin was dark with a shadow of stubble. He also looked a little sleepy, and clearly hadn’t enjoyed his short sojourn in the pen.

“So are you finally going to tell me the truth, Joshua?” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked, warily dragging a hand through his tousled hair.

“You weren’t walking your dog last night, were you? You don’t even have a dog. So what were you doing at the house on Parker Street?”

He hung his head in resignation.“Look, all I wanted to do was have it out with the guy once and for all, all right?”

“What guy?” asked Odelia with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“The guy! The guy Melanie was seeing.”

“But… I thought you said you didn’t know who he was?”

“I… well, I may not have told you the complete truth,” he admitted. “His name is Franklin Harrison, and apparently he was living in that squat house for some time. Even though he hadn’t told Melanie. He’d told her he was living in Jackson Heights.”

“The luxury condos?”

He nodded.“He lived at Jackson Heights for a while, but he was kicked out by the home owner’s association. Complaints about the use of intoxicants and all-night parties and scantily clad girls in the corridors. Oh, and he didn’t pay the rent. That probably had something to do with it as well. Anyway, when I found out Melanie was seeing this Harrison guy, I asked around, and discovered he’d moved to the squat house, probably having a good time shacking up with his fellow drug addicts.” He shook his head in disgust. “Not the kind of guy Melanie should be involved with. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know all there was to know about him. Like the drugging and the squatting.”

“I don’t get it,” said Odelia. “He’s Herbert Harrison’s son, right? So he must be loaded. So why didn’t he pay the rent on his condo? What was he doing living in a squat house?”

“Beats me,” said Joshua. “All I know is that when you told me yesterday that he’d dumped Melanie I was relieved, but not so relieved as not to want to make sure he never got near Melanie ever again. So I decided to pay him a visit and tell him exactly that. Only when I got there I saw thatthe place was on fire, and Harrison’s lifeless body lying on some ratty mattress, looking very much dead.” He raised tired eyes to meet Odelia’s. “Look, I didn’t kill him, all right? I didn’t set that building on fire, whatever the police are saying. I was just in the wrong place at thewrong time, that’s all. My rotten luck for wanting to help Jason save his marriage.”

“But if you’re innocent, why did you run off like that? Why didn’t you stick around?”

“Because I didn’t want to get involved. I don’t want Melanie to know I was sticking my nose into her personal business, and Jason even less so. If Melanie knew I’d been talking to her boyfriend, or asking you to look into this whole messed-up business, she would probably never talk to me again, and neither would Jason.” He sighed and hung his head. “I really messed up big time, didn’t I?”

“You should have told me, Joshua. you should have told me you knew who Melanie was seeing.”

“I know, I know.” He looked up. “Can you help me? You’re the Chief’s niece. And the lead detective is your husband. You must have some pull with these people. Can’t you explain to them that I’m innocent?”

She placed a hand on his arm.“Are you sure you told me everything this time?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No more lies?”

“No more lies.”

“I’ll talk to my uncle. Find out what he knows. The fact that they’re holding you here means they must have something on you. Though it could be just like you said: being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She fixed him with a stern look. “But you’ll have to come clean, Joshua. You’re going to have to tell them everything—every last detail.”

“Also about Melanie?”

“Also about Melanie.”

“Oh, God,” he said, and rubbed his haggard features. “She’ll be so angry with me.”

“Well, that can’t be helped,” she said. “If you don’t want to be charged with triple homicide you’re going to have to come clean, and that means telling my uncle and my husband exactly what you just told me.”

“All right, if you say so. What a mess.”

“You can say that again.”

Chapter 14

“Dooley, keep your head down!” I whispered when Dooley raised his head to look through the Chief’s window.

Lately Uncle Alec had expressed his resentment with us cats spying on him. He didn’t seem to enjoy the experience as much as I’d thought he would. In my view only people who are trying to hide something resent being spied upon, so what was he hiding?

At any rate, it probably behooved us to keep our noses down.

“So all three victims had Rohypnol in their systems?” the Chief was asking.

“Yep. All three of them were knocked out with the same drug. And what’s interesting is that we found the exact glass used in the process.”

“But with only two sets of fingerprints,” said Uncle Alec. “The killer’s, and one of the victims.”

“Yeah, that’s the strange thing. Though it’s possible the killer used different glasses to accomplish his purpose. At any rate, we’ve got Joshua Curtis’s fingerprints on the glass with the remnants of the drug, and Franklin Harrison’s prints on that same glass, which proves that Joshua was the one who handed Harrison that drink, and knocked him out. We couldn’t lift Harrison’s prints from the body, as his hands were too badly burned, but we had his prints on file.”

“No doubt it’s Franklin Harrison?”

“No doubt. His relatives have already identified him.”

“So what about motive?”

“Now listen to this, Chief,” said Chase, clearly very happy with himself. “It’s a doozy. So Franklin Harrison was having an affair, okay? We found plenty of pictures of one Melanie Myers on his phone, and flirty texts back and forth. Real hot stuff, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So get this. This guy Joshua Curtis is Melanie’s husband’s best buddy. And not just that, the guy’s been in love with Melanie for years and years and years. I mean, to the point of obsession, okay? I’m talking pictures and videos of the woman on his phone.”

“Of Melanie Myers?”

“Sure! The guy’s phone is like a private throne on which he worships the woman’s likeness. And what’s more, the two of them used to be an item, before the husband entered the picture. We know this because we found a diary at the guy’s office, hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer, wherehe talks about the affair, and about his feelings for her. Turns out they briefly dated in college, before she fell for his best friend.”

“Jason Myers,” the Chief supplied.

“Exactly.”

“And the guy never stopped carrying a torch for the woman.”

“Looks like he’s in love with her to this day, Chief. And I’m sure that once we go through his house with a fine-tooth comb we’ll find plenty more to corroborate this.”

“So what’s your theory?”

Chase took a deep breath.“Okay, so my theory is that Curtis found out that Melanie was cheating on her husband with Harrison and got mad, then decided to get even. So he devised a plan to make sure Harrison never crossed paths with Melanie ever again.”

“And what about the two other victims?”

“Pretty sure they weren’t the intended target, Chief. What I think happened was that he figured that if he killed all three of them we’d think we were dealing with a serial killer, when in fact his intended target was Harrison all along.”

“He must have seen too many movies.”

“Exactly. Only that’s the problem, isn’t it: Joshua Curtis isn’t a crafty killer. He made so many mistakes that we got to him even before the bodies of his victims were cold. He left the glass with his fingerprints and the Rohypnol at the scene. He set the room on fire by dousing it in gasoline, probably hoping to make it look like an accident but failing miserably, and he was seen by two witnesses exiting the place and getting into his car.”

“Look, one thing, Chase,” said Uncle Alec. “You know that this Joshua character asked Odelia to follow Melanie around, right? Supposedly to figure out if she was having an affair and who with.”

“Yeah, I know. She told me.”

“Well, I’m not sure she isn’t still in the guy’s corner, so to speak.”

“But surely if she learns the truth…”

“That’s exactly it. I don’t think it’s a good idea to involve her this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have the impression she’s willing to go to bat for the guy. She’s in here right now, you know talking to him.”

“She is?”

“That was Dolores on the phone just now, telling me your wife is talking to Joshua Curtis, and probably being told by the guy that he’s innocent, and asking her to try and prove it.”

“You don’t think…”

“Yes, I do.” He let drop a pregnant pause. “I think we can’t afford to let Odelia know what we know, since she’ll probably tell Curtis, and he’ll use it to stage a defense. So from now on, not a word about this case to your wife, you got that? At least as long as she’s willing to go to bat for the killer.”

“You mean…

“As much as it pains me to say this, we’re obviously working on opposite sides of this thing, Chase. Your wife is working for the suspect—against us!”

Just then, Dooley popped his head up again, and I could hear Uncle Alec utter a curse word, and when I glanced up surreptitiously, I found myself looking into the Chief’s eyes, his face so close to mine on the other side of the window, I was momentarily startled. But then I smiled and gave him a little wave. Futile, of course. First of all because humans can’t discern those subtle expressions we display, so he probably missed my smile by a mile. And my conciliatory little wave? That only seemed to solidify his utter annoyance.

“Will you stop spying on me!” he yelled, a clear indication he wasn’t happy with us.

“Yes, Uncle Alec!” I yelled back.

But of course he couldn’t understand me.

Chapter 15

“I thought I’d find you here,” said Chase when he came upon Odelia, who was patiently waiting in his office.

Odelia was in Chase’s swivel chair, and had taken the time to think about her recent interview with Joshua Curtis. Somehow she still had the feeling that he hadn’t told her everything, though why he would lie to her she did not know. Unless, of course…

“Do you think he did it?” she asked her husband.

Chase took a seat in front of his own desk and gave his wife a look of appraisal.“You know that your uncle has forbidden me from discussing this particular case with you?”

“He has? But why?”

Chase shrugged.“He seems to think we’re on opposite sides. You’re in the killer’s corner and we’re in the victim’s.”

“So you think Joshua is guilty.”

“Guilty as hell,” Chase confirmed.

“So you must have proof, right? To back up that claim?”

“Sure we have proof. But like I said, I’m not allowed to discuss it with you, since the Chief is afraid you’ll just turn around and supply that information to Curtis, helping him stage his defense.”

“I would never do that,” said Odelia, shaking her head. “If he’s guilty, that is.”

“Well, it sure looks like he’s the one that did it, babe.”

“But why? What makes you so sure?”

Chase heaved a deep sigh. It was probably bad for him to deny his wife the kind of information that would help her crack this case, knowing she was probably as excellent and determined a detective as he was.“Look, if I tell you, you have to promise me not to tell your uncle, all right? Cause if you do, I’m in deep doo-doo.”

“Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up two fingers.

“And I don’t need to remind you not to tell the suspect anything we’re about to discuss.”

“Absolutely. Frankly I have a feeling he hasn’t been entirely honest with me. Even though he says he’s told me everything, I still feel he’s holding out.”

“You bet he is. Did he tell you that he and Melanie Myers used to be an item?”

“No, he did not.”

“They weren’t together long, but the guy is still carrying a torch for the woman.”

“That, I noticed. Though I thought he was mostly looking out for his friend.”

“I doubt that. I think he was jealous, and couldn’t stand that Melanie was seeing Harrison. So he killed him and tried to make it look like an accident by setting fire to the place.”

“How did Harrison end up a squatter?”

“Well, turns out that Franklin Harrison has a brother named Marvin, and from what I understand Franklin was the bad boy and Marvin the responsible one. Franklin was always the rich kid with the gazillions of friends, partying all the time, and getting into all kinds of trouble, while Marvin’s main focus was the family business.”

“Real estate, right?”

Chase nodded.“Commercial and industrial real estate, mainly. Herbert set up the company and turned it into a goldmine, and hoped his sons would take an interest. Only Franklin decided he was too busy spending daddy’s money to bother with the business.”

“And dating married women,” Odelia added.

“Exactly.”

“So while Marvin minds the family store, his brother is living it up.”

“Only at some point Daddy must have had enough, and decided to cut him off. So Franklin found himself without funds, and living as a squatter in the dump he died in.”

“And what about those two other guys?”

“Took us some time to identify them. They were both badly burned.” He glanced down at his little notebook. “Aldo Kali and Tomio Iberia. Both well known in connection to multiple drug-related incidents. Been arrested multiple times the last couple of years.”

“Drug dealers.”

“Looks like Joshua set fire to the room those two guys were sleeping in, with Franklin in the next room, which is why they were burnt to a crisp, and Franklin only suffered minor burns, though there’s still extensive damage to his lower limbs and his arms.”

“But you think Franklin was the intended target.”

“Absolutely. You should have seen what we found on Joshua’s phone. Pictures of Melanie, videos of Melanie, and in his office a diary completely devoted to Melanie.”

Odelia processed all of this.“I don’t know, Chase. I just don’t see him as a cold-blooded killer. You’ve seen him. You’ve talked to him. He’s as straight-laced as they come.”

“Those are often the worst offenders, babe. You know that as well as I do.”

“But killing three people, just because one of them was having an affair with the woman he’s been in love with for years? If that’s true, then why didn’t he kill Jason Myers?”

“Because Jason is his best friend. And even though he probably hates the fact that Melanie ended up with Jason, he more or less got over it. And then along comes this spoiled rich kid Harrison and starts something with his precious Melanie—his dream girl. I think he got so angry he wasn’t thinking straight. And Harrison just had to die.”

She smiled at her husband.“Looks like we’re working the case together again, only this time my uncle isn’t supposed to know.”

“Yeah, and better keep it that way. He’s been getting all kinds of flack about the wedding, and he’s not in a good mood right now.”

“What do you mean, flack?”

“Oh, just the usual, you know,” said Chase, a little evasively.

Just then, the door opened and one of Chase’s colleagues stuck her head in. It was Sarah Flunk, one of the officers, and when she saw Odelia she said, “Oh, there she is. Miss Grinch who stole our wedding.” And shaking her head, she closed the door again.

Chase and Odelia shared a look of understanding.“I think I see what you mean,” she said dryly.

Chapter 16

Since Uncle Alec clearly didn’t want us to spy on him, we decided to try a different tack: we snuck back into the precinct and decided to spy on Dolores instead. Dolores Peltz is at the heart of the police station, as the station dispatcher and desk sergeant she knows everything there is to know about what goes on in that place. So it was with great expectations that we took a seat next to her desk, and settled in for the duration.

We didn’t have to wait long, for soon after we arrived a woman and a man walked into the station, claiming to be one of the victims’ mother and brother.

“I want to see the person in charge,” said the woman. She was the matronly type, and clearly used to getting what she wanted. Her hair was done up into a sort of tower of hair, and she wore plenty of makeup. Her son was the clean-cut business type, with a nice suit, tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose, and sandy hair that had all the hallmarks of having been arranged by a very expensive hairdresser. Not Fido Siniawski, in other words.

“And you are…” said Dolores in her raspy smoker’s voice.

“Franklin Harrison’s mother,” said the woman. “And this is my son Marvin.”

“Could you please take a seat in the waiting area?” said Dolores. “I’ll get someone to come and talk to you right away.”

Mother and son removed themselves from the scene, and soon we were surprised by the arrival of Odelia, our very own human.

“Dolores,” she said, “who are those people?”

“The Harrisons,” the dispatcher said. “Mother and son. Here to see the manager.” She flashed Odelia a little grin.

“I want to run something by you,” said Odelia.

“Sure, go ahead. Though I have to tell you that I’m probably one of the only people in this town still willing to talk to you right now.”

“How so?” asked Odelia, looking surprised.

“The wedding, silly girl! You can’t dangle a big carrot like that in front of people’s noses and then yank it away again at a moment’s notice.”

“I’m sorry. But we simply couldn’t go through with it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain to me,” said Dolores, waving an airy hand. “I understand perfectly. If my wedding had ballooned to such ridiculous proportions I wouldn’t have wanted to go through with it either.” She gave Odelia a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetie. People have a very short memory. Just you wait and see. This time next week they’ll have forgotten all about it.”

“I hope so,” said Odelia. “Father Reilly wants me to do the wedding the first weekend of February, Wilbur Vickery the second weekend, and Ida Baumgartner in May. The three of them pulled their diaries and are trying to fix a date. They didn’t ask me for my opinion, so they clearly don’t need me to be there. Probably just to pull my checkbook.”

Dolores laughed.“I can just imagine their faces when they found out the wedding was canceled! They must have been so annoyed!”

“Anyway, so I wanted to ask you about last night’s fire.”

“Uh-huh. Shoot.”

“So you got the call, right?”

“I got three calls, in fact.”

“Three calls?”

“Sure. Just lemme check.” She tapped a few keys on her computer. “Here we go. So the first call came in at eleven forty-eight, okay?”

“Who made the call?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t give me a name. Said they wanted to report a fire on Parker Street. Then the second caller didn’t give me his name either. This was at eleven fifty. And then a minute later your grandmother called in.”

“Okay.”

Dolores took off her reading glasses.“So the second caller sounded kinda winded, as if he was walking and talking. And of course we now know that the second caller was Curtis, as he was calling from his own phone, the dumbass.” When Odelia gave her a look, she added, “You have to be pretty dumb to call in your own crime from your own phone, Odelia!”

“Unless he didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, right. So the only thing that struck me as odd is that the Dibbles didn’t call in.”

“The Dibbles? Who are they?”

“Bart and Vanda Dibble. They’re neighbors. They live right across the street. They’re usually the first to call when something happens at Parker Street 51. In fact they’ve called in so many times I’ve considered blocking their number.”

“You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Nah, I’m not allowed. Unfortunately.”

“What do they usually call about, these Dibbles?”

“Oh, the usual, you know. Noise complaints. Parties happening late at night, drug dealing, and of course the fact that the building was the home of a bunch of squatters, which they said was bringing down property prices and the value of their own home.”

“They’re probably right.”

“Oh, sure. But they don’t have to call and tell me about it every single day, do they? Besides, it’s not as if I can help it that the owner of the building has decided to let it get run down like that. We informed the town council, and they promised to look into it.”

“Looks like the Dibbles finally got what they wanted,” said Odelia. “That building will probably have to be demolished now.” She gave the other woman a quick hug. “Thanks so much, Dolores. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on, get out of here.” She then glanced down at Dooley and myself. “And you too, Humpty and Dumpty. Get lost. I don’t need a couple of cat spies on my ass all day.”

And as we walked off, I said,“She spotted us, Dooley. I didn’t think she’d spot us.”

“Why did she call us Humpty and Dumpty, Max?” asked Dooley as we left the precinct in Odelia’s wake.

“We really need to work on our stealth mode. I can’t believe she saw us.”

“So who are you, Max? Humpty or Dumpty?”

“I dunno,” I muttered, still wondering how Dolores had spotted us. I prided myself in the way I could surreptitiously spy on people, only now I’d been found out two times in a row: first by Uncle Alec, though that was entirely Dooley’s fault, of course, and once by Dolores, and in this lastcase I had nobody to blame but myself.

“I think I’m Humpty, Max,” said Dooley. “And you’re Dumpty.”

“Sure, Dooley,” I said. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

Chapter 17

Odelia and her two feline detectives had arrived at the place where Melanie Myers lived with her husband. She’d first tried to find her at work, at wefindyourdreamhomeforyou.com, but one of her colleagues said that Melanie had called in sick. Odelia hoped she wasn’t too sick to talk to her, though.

The house was a nice modest family home with a single garage in a neighborhood of similar family homes. It was one of those neighborhoods where not too many cars drive through, and where kids can take their bikes out and play on the street. Two little boys were doing that in front of the Myers house, and Odelia wondered if they were Melanie’s. Joshua hadn’t mentioned any kids, but then Joshua hadn’t exactly been forthcoming.

She walked up to the house and pressed her finger on the buzzer. A pleasant jangling sound echoed inside, and before long she heard footsteps and the door was opened.

“Yes?” said Melanie Myers, looking a lot plainer than she’d looked the day before. Gone was the makeup, and gone was the nice suit she’d worn—probably office attire. She was plainly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt now, and her hair was done up into a messy bun.

“Melanie Myers?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“My name is Odelia Poole, and a friend of yours asked me to help him out with something. Joshua Curtis? I believe you know him?”

“Yes, I know Joshua,” said Melanie.

“Can I come in for a moment? It’s a delicate matter.”

Melanie considered this, then glanced down and caught sight of Max and Dooley, or Humpty and Dumpty as they now called themselves.“Oh, how cute!” Melanie exclaimed, immediately crouching down and tickling both cats under their chins. The purring sounds made it obvious they weren’t averse to her ministrations. “Are they yours?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are. They like to follow me around, as strange as that may sound.”

“Oh, no, mine are just the same,” said Melanie. “If I’d let them they’d follow me to the office and lie next to my desk all day. Unfortunately my boss hates cats. She thinks it’s unprofessional and makes a bad impression on the clients.” She rolled expressive eyes. “As if cats couldever make a bad impression on anyone. I’d say they’re an ice breaker.”

Well, they’d certainly broken the ice now, Odelia thought as she stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her.

Two cats came walking up to her, meowing all the while. They were very small, even smaller than Dooley, and were clearly purebreds. So she left Dooley and Max to deal with them, and maybe extract some more information, and followed Melanie into the living room.

“Please take a seat,” said Melanie, indicating a beige leather couch on which crocheted covers had been placed to protect the leather against the sharp claws of her fur babies.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” she said, “but Franklin Harrison was found dead last night.”

Melanie was shocked by this piece of news, Odelia could tell, but she tried to hide it well.“I-I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell,” she said unconvincingly.

Odelia decided to put all of her cards on the table. Joshua might not like it, but that couldn’t be helped. “Joshua told me that you and Franklin were seeing each other,” she said therefore. “So he asked me to find out if this was true. He wanted you to stop, as he was afraid of the impact the affair might have on your marriage, so…”

“Oh, God,” said Melanie, shifting in her place. “Joshua told you that?”

“He did. Yesterday morning. He asked me to follow you around and take pictures.”

“Pictures!”

“Yeah. He wanted to confront you with the affair, and make you stop.”

Melanie shook her head in utter dismay.“I don’t know how he found out. But then Joshua likes to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong,” she said with a touch of vehemence.

“The thing is the police have arrested him. They think that he killed Franklin.”

Melanie sat up straight.“Joshua killed Franklin!”

“He says he didn’t do it. He says he just wanted to talk to him, but when he arrived the house was on fire and Franklin was dead.”

“How-how did he die?” asked Melanie.

“Smoke inhalation. But before that he was drugged. So he didn’t suffer.”

Melanie lowered her gaze to the floor.“I did have an affair with Franklin,” she said in a low voice. “But it didn’t mean much. Not to me, and not to him either. In fact he called me yesterday to break it off. Said the relationship had run its course and he didn’t think we should see each other anymore.” She shrugged. “It was clear from the beginning that this wasn’t going anywhere. It was just a fling for him—and for me, too, I guess.”

“How did you meet?”

“At a club. I don’t usually go clubbing anymore. Not since I married and had kids.”

“Oh, so those two boys outside…”

Melanie smiled.“Yeah, they’re mine. My precious little darlings.” She looked up at Odelia. “Are you married, Miss Poole?”

“Just got married, actually,” said Odelia, displaying her wedding ring.

“When you’ve been married as long as I have, you’ll understand that from time to time a woman needs to have a night out—some little time off from her marriage, especially when there are kids involved. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, and I adore my two rascals, but we have this thing where I take one night off every month, and so does Jason—that’s my husband. So I have a girls night, and he has a boys night—not on the same night, obviously—and it makes you forget for just one night that you’re not just a mom and a wife but also a woman, you know. I go to the spa with my girlfriends, or we hit the town, or take a weekend off and go someplace to be pampered and have fun. So last month we went clubbing, which I hadn’t done in years, and it was such a blast.”

“And you met Franklin.”

“Yeah, he’s one of those people who never stop clubbing. He hit it pretty hard that night, but I’d probably had a little too much to drink, and I was having such a good time, and so we danced a little, and talked some, and when all was said and done and he offered to share a cab, I said yes, and we ended up kissing in the backseat. And when he invited me over to his place I said yes, which probably I shouldn’t have done.” She sighed, and twisted her wedding ring. “Franklin is one of those people who’s a lot of fun to be around, you know. A real playboy, in the literal sense ofthe word. He’s just fun, fun, fun, and, well…” She shrugged. “I guess I needed a bit of fun just then. Jason and I have been going through a rough patch, and Franklin was my escape. I’m not proud of what I did, and I hope you won’t tell my husband, Miss Poole. He’ll be devastated.”

“I won’t tell him, but Joshua might,” said Odelia, not wanting to give the woman any illusions.

“Yeah, Joshua is a dear friend, but he’s also a meddler.”

“Is it true that you and he used to be…”

“Oh, God! Did he tell you that? No, we were never a thing. We went out on one date in college. One single date, and we shared one kiss. That’s it. The next day I met Jason and it’s just been him ever since.” She smiled a weak smile. “Still is, actually, no matter what you may think.”

“I think you should probably tell your husband about your affair,” said Odelia, “before he hears it from someone else. Or before your kids hear about it. You know how quickly gossip spreads in this town.”

“I know,” said Melanie. “Thanks for letting me know.” She glanced in the direction of Max and Dooley and her own two cats. “And thanks for bringing your babes along on a play date. They seem to have hit it off together.”

Chapter 18

While Odelia was busy talking to Melanie Myers, Dooley and I got busy interviewing her cats. Well, I say interviewing, but what happened was more of a monologue… by those cats.

“Oh, my God you guys are so scruffy,” said one cat, whose name, if I had heard her right, was Musti.

“So, so scruffy,” her friend echoed. She went by the name Susi.

“Who does your grooming?” asked Musti.

“Yeah, you guys have gotthe worst groomer.”

“We don’t have a groomer,” I said.

They stared at us, then at each other, then back at us.“No groomer?” asked Susi.

“Well, that explains things,” said Musti.

“We groom ourselves,” said Dooley proudly.

More shared looks of astonishment.“Self-grooming? No way.”

“Yes, way,” I confirmed. “We groom ourselves. In fact most cats I know groom themselves.”

“But… that’s just horrible,” said Susi.

“That’s terrible,” said Musti.

“Don’t tell me you guys still use your…” Susi quickly stuck out her tongue, causing her friend to shiver with sheer disgust.

“Yep, that’s how we do it,” I said. “The good old-fashioned tongue.”

“No way!” said Musti. Or maybe it was Susi. They were hard to distinguish.

“That’s so disgusting!”

“No wonder you look so scruffy.”

“So terribly scruffy.”

And at this point they seemed to feel that they’d shared the same space with two scruffy self-groomers long enough, for they quickly tripped up the stairs and out of sight. Though as they went, we could clearly hear their conversation.

“Can you believe that Melanie would allow those two disgusting creatures to enter our house, Susi?”

“Now she’ll have to sanitize the whole place, Musti.”

“Sanitize? You mean sterilize.”

Dooley turned to me.“I don’t think they like us, Max.”

“No, I think you’re right, Dooley. They don’t like us very much.”

“We’re not that dirty, though, are we, Max?”

“We’re not dirty at all, Dooley. In fact I think we’re perfectly nice and clean.”

“Now we don’t get to ask them questions.”

“Somehow I have the impression that wouldn’t have made much difference.” Musti and Susi didn’t strike me as the kind of cats we’d been able to extract a lot of crucial information from.

At least with those two out of the way we were free to take our measure of the house, and when we entered the kitchen we soon came upon a regular cornucopia of cat food. And since Musti and Susi had commented on our lack of hygiene, but hadn’t strictly forbidden us from dipping into their food supply, we decided to strengthen the inner cat and ate to our heart’s content.

When we walked out of the kitchen, we saw that Odelia’s interview was at an end, but just as we walked out, the front door opened and Melanie’s husband walked in. At least I think he was her husband, since she kissed him and called him sweetie.

“This is Miss Poole, sweetie,” said Melanie, making the necessary introductions. “She’s here to ask us about Joshua.”

“Joshua?” said the guy, who was short and sort of chunky. “What happened?”

“He’s been arrested, I’m afraid, Mr. Myers,” said Odelia.

“Arrested!”

“For murder,” Melanie supplied.

Mr. Myers seemed absolutely agog by these revelations, which made me assume that Joshua hadn’t yet been in touch to give him the news about his recent escapades. They might be best friends, but this was the kind of thing Joshua clearly didn’t feel compelled to break to his friend any time soon.

“Can I ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Myers?” asked Odelia.

Melanie didn’t seem excited by the prospect of our human talking to her husband, but complied nevertheless. “I’ll go and check on the boys, shall I?” she said, and removed herself from the scene after a quick worried glance at her husband.

“The thing is, Mr. Myers,” said Odelia, “Joshua came into my office yesterday—I’m a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette, by the way, but I also consult with the police and do some detective work from time to time.” She hesitated.

“He probably wanted you to follow Melanie around, is that it?” asked Mr. Myers.

“He’s clairvoyant, Max!” said Dooley.

“Yes, he did,” said Odelia, as surprised as we were.

Mr. Myers smoothed his shirt and settled down on the leather sofa.“I haven’t discussed this with my wife, but I know she was having an affair. I don’t know who with, and frankly I don’t care.” He glanced through the window, which looked out onto the street. We could see two kids playing on their bikes, their mother now watching over them with a keen eyeand chatting with one of the neighbors by the looks of it. “My wife and I have been married for fifteen years, and don’t get me wrong, we love each other very much. It’s just that, from time to time Melanie feels the need to… bust loose, shall we say? To feel young again, with no responsibilities, no mortgage and no kids to take care of. And you know what? I let her. I know it doesn’t mean anything. I know it’s just a way for her to blow off some steam before she comes home to me and the boys again. And she always does.”

“That’s very…”

“Yeah, I know it’s a little weird, maybe, but that’s just the way it is. From the moment we started dating we decided to give each other space.”

“And do you enjoy the same, um… privileges?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” said Mr. Myers with a curt laugh, “but I don’t use them. I’ve never cheated on my wife, Miss Poole, and I don’t think I ever will. And in all the years we’ve been together I can count on the fingers of a single hand the number of times Melanie’s been unfaithful to me.” He shrugged. “So I try not to let it bother me too much.”

“So when Joshua tried to keep this a secret from you—”

“He shouldn’t have bothered, because I already knew. Joshua is a good friend, but I think I know my wife better than he does. I trust her, and apparently Joshua doesn’t, if he feels the need to ask you to follow her around.” He seemed a little annoyed by the initiative of his best friend, Ithought.

“Do you think Joshua is capable of murder?”

“Joshua? A murderer? Absolutely not. He couldn’t kill a fly.”

“He seems to have feelings for Melanie,” said Odelia.

“Oh, yeah, I know he does. He loves her to bits. They briefly dated in college, you know. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It may not have meant anything to your wife, but apparently it meant a lot for your fiend, Mr. Myers,” Odelia pointed out. “And now the police seem to think it was the reason he killed three people last night.”

“Three people?”

“According to the police his intended target would have been Franklin Harrison.”

“Name seems to ring a bell,” said Mr. Myers, nodding.

“Franklin Harrison was the man your wife was having an affair with.”

He blinked.“Okay.”

“So now the police think that Joshua wanted to get rid of him once and for all.”

Mr. Myers scooted forward and fixed Odelia with a serious look.“Do you believe he’s guilty, Miss Poole?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am. Joshua didn’t do it. No way in hell is that man capable of murdering three people in cold blood.”

“Even if he thought he was doing it to save his best friend’s marriage?”

Mr. Myers sat back again, and shook his head.“It all seems a little extreme.”

“Just a routine question, if I may, but where were you last night, Mr. Myers? Around midnight, let’s say?”

He produced a weak smile.“Are you accusing me of going after my wife’s lover now?”

“Not at all. Just dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s.”

“Well, I was here all night, and so was my wife, by the way. We watched a movie and then went to bed. By the time I turned off the lights it was after midnight.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

He glanced out at his two boys.“I can vouch for my wife, and she can vouch for me. Isn’t that enough?”

Chapter 19

Vesta still felt a little guilty about the role she’d played in the capture of Joshua Curtis, her granddaughter’s client.

“It just isn’t right, Scarlett,” she told her friend as the twosome rode in her daughter’s little red Peugeot Vesta liked to use. “If Odelia represents this guy that means he’s innocent. I know my granddaughter. She would never defend a killer. And if only I’d known he was her client,I’d never have told my son about him. No way.”

“You would have let that building burn to the ground?” asked Scarlett, who clearly wasn’t fully on board with this mission yet.

“Oh, I would have called 911 for sure,” said Vesta, “but I wouldn’t have mentioned seeing Joshua.”

They were on their way to Joshua’s house right now, since Vesta felt they’d gotten the guy into the soup, and now it was up to them to get him out again.

“Look, I don’t feel good about this, Vesta,” said Scarlett, “I’ll be honest with you. If we get caught…”

“If we get caught I’ll just tell those cops that we’re working under Odelia’s instructions.”

“But we’re not!”

“Technically, maybe, but in the spirit of the thing we’re fighting on her side.”

“What side? The guy is obviously guilty. You saw him come out of that building.”

“Just because the man came out of the building doesn’t mean he’s a killer,” Vesta insisted. “He could have just been there to, well…”

“To do what? Pay a house call? I didn’t even know notary clerks made house calls. But even they do, they damn well don’t make them in the middle of the night.”

“Look, I’ll admit that I don’t know what the guy was doing there. But I’m sure he had a good reason, and I’m sure in due course he’ll tell Odelia, who’ll tell us, and then I’ll prove to you that what we’re doing is right and just and—holy crap will you look at that?”

She was referring to the pileup that involved no less than two police cars and three regular cars. The police cars still had their lights a-flashing, but clearly that hadn’t done them any good.

“Probably on their way to Joshua Curtis’s house,” said Scarlett.

“Then we better make sure we get there first,” said Vesta, and stomped the accelerator practically through the floor of the aged car.

Moments later they arrived in a cul-de-sac and parked in front of a nice little house with a neat little front yard. It even had a select smattering of garden gnomes livening things up, something which would have pleased Vesta’s son-in-law to no end.

“Let’s do this,” she announced as she got out of the car.

“How are we going to get in?” asked Scarlett as she tiptoed up to the house, as if afraid someone might hear her. As usual, she was dressed in a tight miniskirt and crop top, her high heels making it a little hard for her to remain inconspicuous, as did her choice of clothes. Vesta, on the other hand, was dressed for the job: a gray tracksuit with yellow trim, and sneakers.

“I got a set of master keys,” said Vesta, as she held up the set proudly.

When Scarlett looked a little closer, she frowned and said,“That’s not a master key set. That’s a set of lock picks.”

“It was called a master key set on eBay, so that’s what it is.” She picked a small sharp instrument from the collection and inserted it into the keyhole. It looked like something a surgeon would use to poke a hole in a person. “There was an instruction manual included,” she explained as she inserted a second sharp instrument and started jiggling.

“Who was the seller? Burglars, Inc?”

“Probably,” said Vesta as she stuck her tongue out and jiggled away to her heart’s content. “The trick is in the jiggling,” she explained. “If you jiggle long enough, something has to give.”

Unfortunately nobody had relayed this information to the lock, which remained unwilling to play ball.

“Maybe we’ll have a look around the back,” she said after a while. “Before the neighbors file a report.”

So they moved around the house and found themselves in an equally neat backyard with a small porch and Vesta repeated the trick with the instruments. Finally, when she didn’t have more luck than at the front door, Scarlett said, annoyed, “Just let me try. Jiggling comes naturally to me.” But instead of taking advantage of Vesta’s master key set, she put her shoulder against the door, her hand on the handle, and gave it a hard push. Something budged, and suddenly the door swung open.

“How the hell did you do that?!” asked Vesta.

“You just need the right approach,” said Scarlett.

“That door is probably male,” said Vesta as both women pushed inside.

The house itself was as clean and neat as the outside had promised, and as Vesta took the ground floor, Scarlett moved up the stairs to check around.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” she asked as she walked off.

“Anything incriminating!” Vesta yelled after her.

“And then what?”

“Then we remove it and give it to Odelia. She’ll know what to do.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Scarlett muttered, but did as she was told and hurried up the stairs.

Vesta checked the kitchen, which was so neat it could have served as a model kitchen at a kitchen trade fair, and opened a couple of cupboards. For the occasion she’d put on plastic gloves, and for a few moments she admired the kitchen, then decided to snap a couple of pictures. She’d been trying to convince her daughter to remodel the kitchen for a while now, and this was just the kind of kitchen Vesta thought would be perfect.

She then moved into the garage, flicked on the light and looked around. Near the door, she saw four yellow metal jerrycans standing neatly in a row.

“Huh,” she said, and picked them up. “Empty,” she murmured, then shrugged, and carried them to the door to take out to the car. When you’re accused of arson it probably doesn’t look good to have four empty jerrycans in your garage, she figured.

“Vesta!” Scarlett suddenly yelled. “You gotta see this!”

Vesta stomped up the stairs, afraid there would be more dead bodies. Even she couldn’t explain away more dead bodies—or drag them to her car. But when she arrived upstairs, and followed Scarlett’s voice into what looked like the master bedroom, she saw to her elation that there was no dead body on the bed—or anywhere else, for that matter.

“What?” she said, panting from the exertion of running up those stairs.

“Will you look at that?”

“Who’s the babe?” asked Vesta as she took in the scene. A life-size painting of a nude hung over the bed, depicting some blond babe, her naked body draped across a sofa.

“Some movie star, you think?” asked Scarlett.

“Dunno,” said Vesta, but got her phone out again and started taking pictures.

“Weird,” Scarlett said as she shook her head.

“What’s weird about it? Some guys like to stare at pictures of Babe Ruth, this guy likes to look at naked women.”

“Woman—singular. I’ll bet it’s someone he knows.”

“And I’ll bet it’s just something he picked up in a dime store. Anything else?”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“God, you’re slow.”

“Oh? And what have you found, Miss Amateur Burglar?”

Suddenly a police siren could be heard, and both women shut up. Their eyes met.

“Let’s skedaddle,” said Vesta.

“Good idea,” Scarlett agreed.

And so they skedaddled. And not a minute too soon, for even as Scarlett pulled the back door shut, they could hear the sound of a key being inserted in the front door.

“Damn fool,” Vesta said as she and Scarlett hurried round, both carrying two jerrycans. They took a peek to see if the coast was clear. “Why did he have to give them the key?”

“Probably because he was arrested and forced to empty out his pockets?”

“You’re such a smart-ass, did you know that?” said Vesta as they hurried to the car.

“I know. That’s why you love me, right?”

“I do, sweetie,” said Vesta. “No one else would be crazy enough to do this.”

“Oh, so now you admit this was a crazy idea, huh?”

“Less talk, more skedaddling,” Vesta grunted, and shoved down the accelerator. A cop glanced back as they drove past, and held up her hand for them to pull over. But too late.

Chapter 20

We were back at Odelia’s office, with Dooley and myself lounging in one corner, Harriet and Brutus in another, and Odelia herself busy typing on her computer. She was probably working out where to go from here. She’s resourceful that way.

“So you still haven’t told me if you’re Humpty or Dumpty, Max,” Dooley said.

Brutus guffawed.“Humpty Dumpty? What are you talking about, Dooley?”

“Dolores over at the precinct called us Humpty and Dumpty, but she didn’t say who’s Dumpty and who’s Humpty and it’s driving me crazy,” Dooley confessed.

“I think you probably misunderstood,” said Brutus. “I think she was referring to you as Numpty and to Max as Dumpty, for obvious reasons.”

Harriet gave him a shove.“Brutus, don’t be mean,” she said.

“I’m not being mean. I’m just pointing out the facts.”

“You’re being a bully, and I don’t like it,” said Harriet. “So stop it already.”

“Yes, Harriet,” Brutus muttered as he placed his chin on his paws.

“So I’m Numpty and you’re Dumpty?” asked Dooley.

I just shook my head.

Suddenly Gran and Scarlett came bursting into the office, carrying what looked like four jerrycans.“Look what we found!” said Vesta with a note of triumph in her voice.

“Jerrycans?” asked Odelia, showing us she’s very perceptive.

“Bingo!” said Gran. “And guess where we found them!”

“Um… at the gas station?” said Harriet, putting her two cents in.

“At Joshua Curtis’s place,” said Scarlett.

Odelia shot up from behind her desk so fast I thought she must have had a rocket explode under her buttocks to lend her that much speed.“WHAT?!” she said.

“We went over there just now,” said Scarlett, “to remove any incriminating evidence.” She shrugged. “Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my idea.”

“You did WHAT?!” Odelia said as she took three big steps and joined her grandmother and her friend.

“He’s your client, Odelia!” said Gran. “We have to protect him against my son’s unhealthy obsession with the guy. If he’s your client, he’s innocent, you can see how that’s just basic logic, right?”

“But Gran!” said Odelia, as she took in the four jerrycans now dumped at her feet. “You found these at Joshua’s house?”

“In his garage,” said Gran. “They’re empty,” she added helpfully.

“I suggest you bring them to the police station at once,” said Odelia.

“Are you crazy? We can’t do that! It’s exactly this kind of evidence that’s going to make them convict the guy faster than you can say ‘He didn’t do it!’”

“We’re not in the business of concealing evidence, Gran. We’re in the business of finding out the truth.”

“Even if it means a jury of his peers will have a hard time not convicting him of murder?”

“Even if it means that, yes.”

“Told you,” Scarlett said. “Show her what we found in the guy’s bedroom.”

Gran took out her phone and showed something to Odelia I couldn’t see.

“Can you show us, too?” I asked therefore, and Gran happily complied. I think she would have shown these pictures to anyone, except her son maybe.

The pictures showed a very large painting of a very naked… Melanie Myers!

“Is that Mrs. Myers?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, looks like,” I said.

“But… why isn’t she wearing any clothes?”

“Um, she was probably taking a bath,” I said.

He craned his neck to take another look.“So where’s the bath? All I see is a couch.”

“Um…”

“So who is she?” asked Scarlett. “Some movie star? Singer?”

“The wife of his best friend,” said Odelia, looking much sobered.

“Thewife of hisbest friend?!” said Gran, and shared a meaningful look with Scarlett.

“See? Told you he was weird,” said Scarlett.

“Okay, so clearly the guy is head over heels in love with the woman,” said Gran. “But that still doesn’t mean he killed anyone!” she hastened to add.

Odelia furrowed her brow as she thought this through.“So he had four empty jerrycans of…” She took a sniff from one of the jerrycans. “… gasoline in his garage. And a nude painting of Melanie Myers hanging in his bedroom.” She heaved a deep sigh. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to convince myself he didn’t do it, you guys.”

“Yeah, looks that way to me, too,” I said.

“At any rate, you have to give these to the police. You can’t keep them.”

“I have no intention of keeping them,” said Gran. “These are for you!”

“Well, I don’t want them.”

“We can’t give them to the cops now. They’ll want to know why we took them.”

“How did you get in, by the way?”

“With my master key set.”

“Lock picking set,” Scarlett said.

“Master key set!”

“What a mess,” Odelia said, dragging her fingers through her blond mane.

“We could always put them back,” Scarlett suggested.

“And get caught? I don’t think so,” said her friend.

“Look, just come clean,” said Odelia. “Uncle Alec won’t be happy, but he won’t be too upset either. After all, you can always say…”

“Yes?”

“Well, you could say…”

“Uh-huh?”

Odelia threw up her hands.“I have no idea what you could say, but I do know you can’t keep these.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t planning on keeping them. They’re yours.”

“Oh, God.”

“The guy’s your client! You should keep them!”

“I’m not keeping those jerrycans, Gran. That’s evidence in a crime. And not just any evidence, either. This is crucial evidence!”

“Well, duh. Why do you think I took it, dummy?”

“Gran is in big trouble now, isn’t she?” said Dooley.

“No more than usual,” I told him.

“So just tell us honestly,” said Scarlett. “Do you really believe this Joshua Curtis guy is innocent?”

Odelia shrugged.“Right now I’m not sure what to believe. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture of what’s going on here. And hopefully in the process find the truth.”

“You know who could have done it?” said Gran, wagging her finger at no one in particular. “Those neighbors.”

“What neighbors?” asked Odelia.

“The neighbors! We saw them peeking through the window, didn’t we, Scarlett? And then pretending like they hadn’t seen us.”

“I talked to Dolores today,” said Odelia thoughtfully, “and she mentioned that the neighbors have been launching a regular avalanche of complaints the last couple of months.”

“See!” said Gran. “I knew I was onto something!”

“Even a broken clock gets it right twice a day,” Brutus muttered.

“I heard that!” Gran shouted.

Chapter 21

“That tip about the neighbors was a good one, I have to give her that,” said Odelia as she steered her aged pickup through Hampton Cove, on her way to Parker Street.

“Like Brutus said, though,” Max intimated, “even a broken clock gets it right twice a day.”

“Yeah, but Dolores said much the same thing: the Dibbles really wanted those people gone. Is it too much to imagine that they might have gone to extreme lengths to get what they wanted?”

“I guess we’ll soon find out,” said Max, and she threw him a grateful smile through the rearview mirror.

Dooley and Max were in the backseat, as usual, while Brutus and Harriet had opted to head on home. They weren’t in a sleuthing mood, apparently, and Harriet had said something about a showdown at cat choir she needed to get mentally prepared for, whatever that meant.

Odelia parked her car across the road from the derelict structure, now deserted and festooned with crime scene tape, and glanced up at the house where the Dibbles lived, husband and wife. She saw the curtain move, then drop back into place.“At least they’re home,” she told her cats, who were following in her wake.

“Now let’s get them to talk,” said Max.

“So if I’m Numpty, and you’re Dumpty,” said Dooley as they walked up to the house, “then who is Humpty?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Dooley,” said Max, sounding a little weary.

“Could it be,” said Dooley, “and this is just a theory, mind you. But could it be that Humpty is the name of the stork?”

“No, Dooley,” said Max, “Humpty is not the name of the stork.”

“How do you know? Have you ever met the stork?”

Odelia smiled as Max had to admit that Dooley had him stumped.

She pressed her finger against the mother-of-pearl bell button and listened to the loud buzz of the bell as it sounded inside. Moments later the door was opened a crack and two suspicious eyes studied her carefully.“Yes?”

“Hi, my name is Odelia Poole and I’m investigating last night’s murder. The murder that happened just across the street? You didn’t happen to see anything?”

“I already talked to the cops,” said the woman, for now that the door was opened a little wider Odelia could see that it was indeed a woman. She would have pegged her in her late sixties, with a florid face and a hard expression in her eyes. Not a woman to be trifled with.

“I know, but I’m just working a different angle.”

“Do you have a badge? The policewoman who was here last night had a badge.”

“No, I do not have a badge,” she said, “but if you want to check my credentials you can always get in touch with this person.” She handed Mrs. Dibble Chase’s card. “He’s the detective investigating the case and I’m sure he’ll vouch for me.”

“Mh,” the woman said, clearly not impressed. “So what do you wanna know?”

“Well, did you see anything suspicious last night? People entering the building or exiting?”

“I saw one guy exiting the building. Nice-looking fella. Looked like a lawyer. Not the kind of person you’d expect in a place like that.”

“And what kind of place is that?”

“A crack house,” the woman spat. “Filled with junkies and slackers. I’ve been complaining to the cops for months, but do you think they even showed me the courtesy to come and talk to me? No way. But now that three people are dead suddenly they all show up and start asking a million questions. If you people had listened to me sooner, this would never have happened!”

“I know,” said Odelia. “So apart from the clean-cut type, did you see anyone else?”

“No one,” said the woman, shaking her head. “Of course it’s not as if I spent all night looking at that wretched place. I’ve got better things to do, me, and so does my husband.”

“Can I talk to your husband, perhaps? Maybe he saw something?”

“He didn’t see nothing.”

“But—”

“Nothing!”

“Just one more question, Mrs. Dibble. Did you happen to call the police last night? Or your husband?” she hastened to add when the woman started shaking her head.

“I did not,” said Vanda Dibble.

“Well, someone called the police.”

“Two old ladies were out here, staking out the place. They called the cops.”

“I know, but one more call was placed. Or actually two. The clean-cut individual, as you so aptly described him, called 911 and so did the two old ladies, but there was a third 911 call, and I was wondering…”

“Well, it wasn’t us. Now if there’s nothing else…” She started to close the door. Then suddenly there was a loud scream that came from somewhere inside the house.

“Vanda!” a man’s voice called out. “I got ‘em! Busted them fair and square!”

The woman quickly turned back to join her husband, and Odelia decided it behooved her to enter the house and see what was going on in there.

And as she followed Mrs. Dibble into the living room, then through to the kitchen and out into the backyard, she was met with a fascinating scene: there stood an old man, with a face as florid as his wife’s and eyes as hard her hers, brandishing a gun at two old ladies. And those two ladies were… Gran and Scarlett!

“What are you doing here?” Odelia blurted out.

“You know these two?” asked Mrs. Dibble, whirling around.

“I caught them with these,” said Mr. Dibble, and pointed to four empty jerrycans, lying at Gran’s feet. “They tried to sneak into the tool shed, if you please!”

“You told me to get rid of them!” Gran cried. “So I figured what better place to dump them than here with these two killers!”

“I told you to take them to the police!” said Odelia.

“How do you know each other?” Mrs. Dibble tried again.

“I was gonna call the cops as soon as we planted them in the shed,” Gran explained.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Scarlett hissed.

“It was a good idea. Only I hadn’t counted on the old coot with the gun,” Gran hissed back.

“Hey, who are you calling an old coot!” said the guy.

“You, you old coot,” Gran snapped. “Just admit it, you killed those people! You set fire to that building across the street, didn’t you? Confess!”

“Oh, just call the cops already, Bart,” said Mrs. Dibble. “These two are obviously nuts.”

“She’s my grandmother,” Odelia now explained. “So maybe you shouldn’t call the police?”

“I thought youwere the police!” said the woman, suspicion making her face flush.

“She’s not a cop,” said Gran. “She’s a reporter.”

“A reporter!”

“And a civilian consultant,” Odelia added weakly.

“That does it. I’m calling the cops,” said the woman, then snapped, “The real ones!”

Chapter 22

“What were you doing with those jerrycans?”

Vesta gave her interrogator the stink eye, which admittedly was a little hard since he was her grandson-in-law and she’d just seen him get married to her beloved granddaughter. Still she thought she did a pretty good job under the circumstances. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “What jerrycans?”

Chase’s eyes narrowed. He was in full-on interrogation mode, Vesta saw, and she pitied the crooks who had to sit here and submit to this kind of treatment. She was pretty sure they’d all crack under the strain. She wouldn’t, of course, since she was a lot tougher than most crooks.

“You were seen inserting four empty yellow jerrycans into a tool shed located on the private property of Mr. and Mrs. Bart and Vanda Dibble. There are three witnesses who saw you: Mr. Bart Dibble, Mrs. Vanda Dibble, and Odelia Poole.”

“Frankly there were two more,” she said. “Max and Dooley were also there, but I guess they don’t count, do they?”

The cop stared at her for a moment.“No,” he said finally. “They don’t count. So let me ask you again. What were you doing with those four jerrycans? Where did you get them and why were you trying to hide them in the tool shed belonging to the Dibbles?”

In turn, she narrowed her eyes, too.“I plead the fifth.”

“This is not a courtroom, Vesta. This is a police interrogation. All I want from you is an answer to a simple question: where the hell did those jerrycans come from?”

She was pretty sure Odelia had already told her husband all about those jerrycans, which made this interview pretty much a waste of time in her view. Still, she wasn’t going to incriminate herself. No sirree. So she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Chase.”

“We’ll see about that,” he growled, then abruptly got up and left the room.

“Those intimidation techniques won’t work on me, buddy boy!” she shouted. “I know my rights!”

Well, actually she didn’t, but at least she knew from watching a ton of Perry Mason shows that it’s always better not to talk to the cops.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

One room over, in interview room number two, Alec Lip was interviewing Scarlett Canyon. Scarlett wasn’t entirely at ease. Not that she hadn’t been arrested before, because she had, but it still wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she enjoyed as a pastime.

“For the last time, Scarlett,” said Alec, tapping the table with impatient fingers. “What were you doing with those jerrycans? And is it true you found them at Joshua Curtis’s place?”

“Who told you that!” she snapped, then realized she probably shouldn’t have said that. In her defense, though, she wasn’t exactly a pro at this kind of stuff.

“Look, we’ve got my mother in the next room, and right now she’s probably singing like a canary.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? She knows what’s good for her.”

“No, I mean, Vesta can’t sing. So I know you’re lying to me right now, Alec Lip,” she added, wiggling a reproachful finger in the man’s face.

Alec had the decency to wince a little. He probably didn’t enjoy raking his mom’s best friend over the coals any more than she enjoyed the process of being raked.

Just then, the door opened and Chase stuck his head in. He bent over Alec, and the two men engaged in a whispered conversation that lasted a couple of minutes. Then Alec nodded, and Chase departed.

“Just as I thought,” he said. “Vesta is laying it all out for us. Telling the whole story A to Z. Which makes things really difficult for you, Scarlett, I can promise you that.”

“What do you mean?”

“She just told my deputy that you’re the one who found those jerrycans in Joshua Curtis’s garage and that you suggested planting them in that tool shed.”

“That’s a lie!” Scarlett cried.

“Well, that’s what she says. We explained to her exactly what I just explained to you: that only one of you is going to be offered this deal of immunity in exchange for a full confession. Looks like Vesta beat you to it.”

She chewed her bottom lip.“Can I think about it?”

Alec slammed his fist on the table.“Thinking time is over, Scarlett! It’s now or never! Think on your feet!”

“You’re making me very nervous, Alec!” she cried. “And I don’t like it when people make me nervous. I get very upset when that happens, and when I get upset I start screaming!”

Alec’s face sagged. “Not the screaming,” he said. “Please not the screaming.”

“I can feel it coming up!” Scarlett warned.

“Please, have mercy,” said Alec.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Chase had left the room and now returned. Trickery, Vesta understood. Mind games these cops liked to play. But she wasn’t going to be fooled by this nonsense. “I want a cup of coffee,” she said the moment the burly cop rejoined the interview.

“You can’t have one,” Chase grunted as he took a seat again.

“I know my rights! I want a cup of coffee!”

“You can have your coffee, but you gotta give me something in return.”

“I’m going to file charges against you, Chase Kingsley!”

“Who with?”

“Your wife!”

Chase blanched a little, but held his own.“I have to say, Vesta. I thought you were smarter.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Alec told me you’re the smartest of the two of you, but so far it looks like it’s Scarlett who’s winning the race.”

“What are you talking about? What race?”

“I told you at the start of this interview how only one of you will be offered a deal. Talk in exchange for immunity. Looks like Scarlett is about to win the big prize. She’s singing like a canary in there,” he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of the wall, behind which presumably Scarlett was holed up, also being interviewed.

“Ha ha ha,” said Vesta.

“What’s so funny?”

“You! Everybody knows Scarlett can’t sing.”

“Well, she’s singing right now, spilling the beans. She claims that you stole those jerrycans from Joshua Curtis’s garage, after you broke into the guy’s house. She also claims that it was your idea to plant those jerrycans in that tool shed, trying to put the blame for those killings on the Dibbles. What do you have to say to that?”

Suddenly a loud scream came from the next room, and Vesta cried,“Is that what you call singing like a canary? You’re torturing her, you brute! This is an outrage!”

Chase swallowed away a lump, and just then a knock sounded at the door and Alec strode in. He bent over Chase and started whispering something into his ear.

“What are you two whispering about?” Vesta demanded, but received no response. “Hey, I asked you a question, Alec. You can’t do this to me, you know. You can’t do this to your little old mother. There are laws against this kind of thing.” She suddenly grabbed for her heart. “Owowow,” she said. “I just felt a stinging pain in my chest. Ouchie-ouch. Yeah, I think it’s my heart. You better call a doctor. And you better start recording my last words, for this is it. When they find my body, you’ll be the ones being hauled in front of a jury, who’ll wanna know who would treat their feeble old mother like this.”

Unfortunately for her the two men blithely ignored her long lament, and then Alec left and Chase stared at her like a cat who’s about to eat a canary—the one that had just started singing, presumably.

“What?” said Vesta. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’ve done it now, Vesta.”

“What have I done now?”

“The Chief just told me it’s in the bag.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“The deal! Scarlett just signed a document granting her full immunity in exchange for her confession, and she’s put all the blame squarely on you.” And to emphasize his words, he poked a finger in Vesta’s direction.

“She did what?!”

“She talked! Said this was all your idea!”

“No, she didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, she did.”

“Look, it may have been my idea,” she said, “but Scarlett was in on it from the start. She was there when we broke into the Curtis place, and she searched the upstairs while I searched the downstairs. In fact it was her that found that nude painting of the Melanie Myers woman. Okay, so I found the jerrycans, and so it was my idea to get rid of them, making sure a silly little piece of evidence like that didn’t land Odelia’s client in the soup. And sure, it was also my idea to plant them at the Dibbles, but Scarlett was with me every step of the way, so she can’t go crying wolf now. If she didn’t agree, she should have said so!”

“Why did you plant those jerrycans at the Dibbles?”

“Cause they’re guilty, Chase! Isn’t it obvious? They’d been complaining about that crack house for months, and finally they decided enough was enough. If the cops weren’t going to do anything about it, they would take matters into their own hands, and so they torched the place. So what ifa couple of drug dealers ended up dead? Good riddance!”

“When we process those jerrycans, are we going to find your fingerprints? Or Scarlett’s?”

“What do you think I am? A rookie? I wore gloves the entire time, dumbo.”

He ignored this slur as he jotted down a note.“Did you take anything else from the Curtis place apart from those jerrycans?”

“No, nothing. I wanted to take that painting, but it didn’t seem like a good idea.”

“And why is that?”

“Too heavy! Do you think I want a hernia? Those jerrycans were easy. They were empty.”

“Empty, huh?” said Chase as he jotted down another note.

“Sure. Which is why I figured you guys would probably use them as some kind of evidence against Odelia’s client.”

“You keep referring to Joshua Curtis as Odelia’s client. But he isn’t her client, is he? Just a guy who asked her to do him a favor.”

“If you’re gonna get all nitpicky about it, sure,” she allowed. Then she smiled. “So now do I get the deal or what?”

Chase got up and said, stony-faced,“What deal?”

“Hey, you said there was a deal on the table!” she cried as he left the room. “I want my deal!”

It took her another couple of minutes of sitting in silence to realize that A) there was no deal. B) there never was a deal. And C) she’d just been played!

Chapter 23

We were sitting in Odelia’s car, on what is commonly termed a stakeout, watching the house that belongs to Joshua Curtis. There was a lot of police activity going on: cops were walking in and out of the house, carrying boxes and crates and all kinds of stuff.

“What is going on?” Odelia said.

Our human was a little frustrated, I could tell. She’d walked up to the cops and asked them what was happening, and what they were dragging out of the house, but they were all under strict instructions from her uncle not to divulge anything about the case to her.

“Maybe you guys can go in there and take a look?” she finally suggested.

It had been an eventful evening already, what with Gran and Scarlett being arrested in flagrante delicto, for trying to plant stolen evidence in the Dibbles’ tool shed, and probably for trespassing, as I don’t think they’d asked permission before they snuck in.

“Let’s go, Dooley,” I said as Odelia opened the door.

So we tripped across the street to find out what was going on. Already we knew that four jerrycans had been found in Joshua’s garage, but now it looked like more stuff was going to be used to tie Odelia’s client to this triple homicide.

Dooley, who’d been glancing upwards, now asked, “Do you think storks work at night, Max? Or do you think they sleep?”

“I thought you’d finally dropped the whole stork thing?”

“Well, I know that Odelia says she wants to wait to have babies, but it’s not up to her, is it? When that stork decides to drop a baby in her lap, he’s going to drop that baby in her lap, whether she likes it or not.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Dooley.”

“No, but it does, Max! It happens all the time on General Hospital. Even to people who aren’t even married. One of the doctors had an affair with a nurse and one morning she came into his office and announced that she was pregnant. And he was married to another person! So either that stork madea big mistake, or storks simply don’t care whether a person is ready or not. They just deliver those babies anyway.”

“Sure, Dooley,” I said as we watched the cops work like beavers—or glorified movers. When all this was over, and Joshua was let out of jail again, he’d have a hard time recognizing his place, with all the stuff that had been removed from it.

“I have a theory,” said Dooley now, visibly pleased with himself.

“What is your theory?” I asked, curious in spite of myself.

“Well, I think that the International Association of Storks is tasked with the important task that there should always be a certain number of babies in the world, so they simply go around distributing them. Now if a person is ready to have a baby, so much the better. But even if they’re not, those babies have to be placed somewhere, right? So they are going to be placed, whether the people getting them are ready or not.”

“Right,” I said dubiously as I watched Sarah Flunk, one of Odelia’s uncle’s officers, carry a very large portrait out of the house, along with another cop. The portrait portrayed Melanie Myers in the nude, and was a vivid depiction of her likeness.

“Hey, that’s that painting of Melanie Myers without any clothes on,” said Dooley, momentarily distracted from his stork theory. “You still haven’t explained to me why she’s not wearing any clothes, Max.”

“She probably forgot to get dressed,” I said. “It happens. Let’s go inside and have a closer look.”

“But who’s going to watch for the stork?”

“Storks don’t work at night, Dooley,” I said. “They’re like most people: they work nine to five and then they take a load off. Let’s go.”

Much relieved, Dooley traipsed after me as we entered the house.

We quickly made our way upstairs, where all the activity seemed to be focused, and found ourselves in a small room adjacent to Joshua’s bedroom.

“Oh, my God,” said Dooley. “Will you look at that.”

I was looking at that, and it became clear to me that Joshua Curtis had some serious issues: everywhere we looked the smiling face of Melanie Myers greeted us. From pictures hanging on the walls, to painted portraits, to sculpted busts and even a life-sized statue literally placed on a pedestal, LED lights illuminating it from below. There was even one of those small bubbling water features, with Melanie clearly recognizable in the cherub pouring water from her pitcher and looking entirely too happy as she did.

“I think Joshua really likes Melanie,” Dooley said. “Like, really really likes her.”

“Yeah, a little too much, I would say.”

Just then, Chase came walking in, followed by Uncle Alec. They looked around and shook their collective heads, then Chase said,“This is just evidence overload, Chief.”

“Talk about an open-and-shut case,” his superior officer agreed. “Holy hell, what are those two doing here?”

Since he was staring straight at us, I immediately assumed he was referring to Dooley and myself, so I gave him my best smile and said,“Top of the morning to you, Chief.”

But of course he couldn’t understand a word I said. Also, it was mid-afternoon at that point, so my greeting was probably out of place. At any rate, he was glowering at us now, clearly not all that happy with our presence at the scene.

“I can’t go anywhere without these two spying on me!” he cried, shaking an irate fist. “Pretty soon they’ll be in my bedroom, watching me sleep! I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and there will be two pairs of cats eyes looking at me from the foot of the bed!”

“We would never do that,” I assured the big guy.

“No, we like to sleep at the foot of our own human’s bed,” Dooley added.

“And watch her sleep.”

“It’s too much!” Uncle Alec cried.

“They’re just cats, Chief,” Chase said.

“I know they’re just cats, but they’re freaking me out.”

“They’re just doing what Odelia told them to,” Chase added as he gestured to the door with a slight shake of the head.

I got his drift immediately, and both Dooley and myself sidled away to the door, keeping our eyes peeled just in case Uncle Alec went full-berserk and launched himself at us. He had that look, you know. That look people get who are about to go cuckoo.

“Look, they’re going already,” said Chase.

“Probably to go and tell Odelia all about what we discovered here.”

“Oh, I’m sure she knows all about it from Vesta and Scarlett.”

“More spies! I’m surrounded by spies!” Uncle Alec screamed, sounding like a Roman emperor now, surrounded by wannabe Senate assassins.

“You shouldn’t see them as spies so much as helpful contributors,” Chase tried. “We all want the same thing, Chief.”

“And what’s that? To drive me nuts?”

“To solve this case.”

“Well, your wife sure has a strange way to go about it, and so does my mom and her friend.” He dragged a hand through his modest mane. “I swear to God, Chase, if this keeps up I’m going to slam an injunction on them.”

“On who?”

“All of them! My mom, Scarlett, Odelia, and especially those darn cats!”

When we arrived back at the car, to report back to Odelia, we didn’t come bearing gifts, but more like stink bombs.

“Looks like Joshua is guilty after all, huh?” she said finally, when we’d painted a colorful word picture of Joshua Curtis’s inner sanctum—his shrine to Melanie Myers.

“Yeah, looks like,” I agreed.

“Have you seen the stork?” asked Dooley, glancing up nervously.

“I told you already, Dooley,” I said. “Storks don’t work at night. They sleep.”

“Oh, right,” said Dooley, relaxing.

“Well, I guess that does it,” said Odelia. “Game over. Joshua Curtis was in love with Melanie to such an extent that he decided to kill the man she was having an affair with. Though I still don’t get why he hired me.”

“So he could stay out of the picture?” I suggested. “He wanted you to snap a couple of pictures of the man she was seeing, and ask you to go and talk to Melanie. That way Melanie would break off the affair, and Joshua wouldn’t have to get involved.”

“But then why did he decide to kill the guy? And just after I told him the affair was over. That Franklin had ended things.” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Chapter 24

After the long day we’d had, filled with emotion and not a small degree of strife, I was glad that it was time for cat choir again, my favorite entertainment of an evening.

Odelia had dropped us off near the park, and when we arrived at the playground that serves as the backdrop for our nightly rehearsal sessions with the other cats of Hampton Cove, we saw that the showdown had already begun: Shanille was positioned on one side of the playground, near the jungle gym, where a handful of cats were listening to her speech about the importance of respect for one’s elders, while Harriet was located on top of the slide, a bunch of cats listening to her speech about the importance of respecting one’s peers, especially when they are right and you are wrong.

“They’re not going to fight again, are they?” asked Dooley, as we took position somewhere in the middle between the two separate camps.

“I think they might just fight with words today?” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sanguine, I must admit. Harriet and Shanille both have a volatile streak, and just might go paw to paw again. Which would turn cat choir into fight club, which wasn’t the idea.

Brutus came over to talk to us, and I could see from his puckered brow and the worried expression on his face that he wasn’t liking this any more than we did.

“I tried to stop her,” he announced sullenly, “but she wouldn’t hear of it. I told her, okay, so maybe Shanille was out of line, but then you should try to be the grownup here. After all, there’s nothing to gain by pushing this thing.”

“Unfortunately Harriet is not the kind of cat who will back down,” I said. “And neither is Shanille.”

“Is she going to put it to a vote?” asked Dooley, turning his head like a spectator at a tennis match, looking from Harriet to Shanille as they both seemed to go from strength to strength—oratorically speaking.

“Yeah, she wants to settle this thing once and for all,” Brutus confirmed.

“So… what are we supposed to vote about?” I asked.

“She’s going to try to push Shanille out of cat choir,” said Brutus in a grave tone.

“No way!”

“Yes, way. She wants to take control, so that something like this will never happen again.”

“Oh, dear.”

“But I don’t want to vote for one or the other, Max,” said Dooley. “I like Harriet, but I like Shanille, too.”

“Plus, I don’t think Harriet would make a good choir director,” I surmised. “Frankly I think if she goes through with this, cat choir just might split in two: Shanille will take her followers to a different part of the park, and then there will be two cat choirs.”

“I’m afraid that just might be the case,” said Brutus somberly.

“But I don’t want two cat choirs,” said Dooley. “I like the fact that we all come together here night after night, and that we all get along!”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Shanille and Harriet,” said Brutus. “Clearly they don’t get along.”

“But…”

Just then, Harriet raised her voice.“Cats of cat choir, the time has come to take a stand: do you really want to keep on living under the dictatorship of Shanille? Or do you want your freedom, under my leadership? It’s your choice, and so choose wisely!”

“Dear friends!” Shanille yelled, summoning for silence, “don’t listen to my opponent. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s disrespectful, she’s mean, and she’s a bully. And I for one feel that we should say no to bullies and therefore start a procedure to expel Harrietfrom our community once and for all.”

“But then who’s going to sing the soprano parts?” a voice from the crowd yelled.

“Yeah, I like those sopranos!” another insisted.

“Thank you so, so much,” Harriet said, simpering a little. “Look, if you want to hear my sopranos you can hear them every night from now on, and not just when Shanille allows them. In fact you can listen to my sweet voice all the time, if you vote for me.”

“If you want tyranny to get a kick in the teeth, you’ll vote for me,” Shanille snapped.

“Free Cat Snax for all!” Harriet countered.

“Don’t listen to her!” said Shanille. “She’ll promise you Cat Snax today and eat them all herself tomorrow. Because that’s the kind of cat Harriet is: selfish!”

“Oh, shut up, Shanille.”

“No, you shut up!”

“Oh, dear,” I murmured.

“If this keeps up,” said Dooley, “the stork will be scared off by all the yelling.”

Soon it was time to vote, and oddly enough the electorate was split right down the middle: Harriet got half of the vote, and so did Shanille.

“I demand a recount!” Harriet cried. “This can’t be right!”

“Yeah, let’s have a recount!” Shanille agreed. “This can’t possibly be right!”

After a few tense moments, it turned out that the vote was exactly the same as the first time, so it was finally decided that a committee would be created that would try and figure a way out of this stalemate. So more voting took place, and suddenly I found myself the leader of this commission.

Yikes!

My fellow committee members were Dooley, Brutus, Kingman and Buster, and before long we were engaged in a tense meeting trying to resolve this remarkable situation.

“I think we should probably have a dual leadership of cat choir from now on,” Kingman suggested.

“You mean put both Harriet and Shanille in charge?” I asked.

“Exactly! It would solve all of our problems. They could be co-directors. Everybody happy!”

“I don’t think so,” said Brutus, once more providing the gloomy note. “Harriet is not the kind of cat who’s great at cooperation. Put her and Shanille in charge and they’ll end up fighting tooth and claw.”

“I think he’s right,” said Buster. “They simply are incapable of sharing the power.”

“So what do we do then?” asked Kingman. “Any other suggestions?”

“We could alternate,” said Brutus. “One night will be Shanille night, and the next will be Harriet’s turn. That way they both get what they want.”

“Not entirely,” I said. “On the nights Harriet is in charge Shanille will do everything in her power to sabotage the rehearsals, and vice versa. We’ll end up with a protracted war.”

“So then what?”

Frankly we were all stumped and out of ideas. So we decided to sleep on it and reconvene the next day. It sure was a tough proposition.

And as we walked home that night, Dooley said,“I’m worried, Max.”

“Me, too,” I admitted.

“I mean, what will the stork think? He’s probably going to be scared off by all the bickering and fighting. And then what?”

I decided to settle this thing once and for all.“Look, Dooley, Odelia has clearly said that she and Chase don’t want to start a family right now. They have plenty of time and so let’s give them that time, all right? The stork will just have to wait,” I added, anticipating his next remark.

He thought about this for a moment, then finally nodded.“All right, Max. We have to respect Odelia’s wishes. The stork will just have to wait.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, after all it’s up to Odelia and Chase. They’re the ones who get to decide.”

“Absolutely!” I said, much relieved he was taking this stance.

“On the other hand,” he said, “we have to think of that poor stork, too.”

“What?”

“Well, we do. Storks are hard-working birds. They have to fly around carrying babies all the time. And you know babies are heavy, Max. They come in at seven or eight pounds. Can you imagine that poor stork, flying all the way out here, carrying a seven-pound baby in its beak, having to turn back?I don’t think we can do that to the poor bird.”

“But…”

“No, I think Odelia will just have to change her mind, and I’m going to have a long talk with her the first chance I get.”

“But, Dooley!”

“Storks have rights, too, Max!”

Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

Chapter 25

Odelia was having breakfast when her mom and dad suddenly stormed into the house, looking perturbed. Marge, who was Odelia’s lookalike, only twenty years her senior, and Tex, her white-haired amiable doctor husband, immediately got down to brass tacks.

“Is it true that your grandmother was arrested last night?” asked Mom.

“Um, yeah, I guess she was,” said Odelia, who’d been enjoying a cup of strong black coffee and a Nutella sandwich. “But they let her walk as soon as she confessed.”

“Confessed!” Mom cried, raising her eyes heavenward and placing a hand to her chest in a gesture of extreme agitation.

“But what was she arrested for in the first place is what I’d like to know,” said Odelia’s dad as he took the Nutella pot, a spoon, and dipped it into the pot with the air of a man digging for treasure.

“It’s a long story,” said Odelia. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes! Of course we want to know why a woman who’s living under our roof got arrested!” said Mom.

“Well…”

“Howdy folks,” said Chase, as he came ambling down the stairs, looking chipper and bright.

“Is it true that you arrested my mother last night?” Mom demanded, not looking exactly like a loving mother-in-law should regard her newly acquired son-in-law.

“Why, yeah, I guess I did,” said Chase a little sheepishly.

“And did you grill her hard?” asked Dad with some relish.

“Tex!” Mom cried.

“I’m sorry. I meant: did she confess to whatever it was she was up to?”

“Oh, yeah, she confessed all right,” said Chase with a slight grin as he, in turn, filled a cup with delicious black brew and took a seat at the kitchen counter.

“What did she do?!” Mom practically yelled.

“Well, she was caught trying to plant four stolen jerrycans in the tool shed belonging to an old couple,” Chase explained.

“She did what?! Oh, my God!” Again the eyes went heavenward and the hand desperately clutched at the chest, as if trying to draw comfort from the gesture.

“It’s fine, Mom,” said Odelia. “The Dibbles aren’t pressing charges, are they, Chase?”

“No, I don’t think they will. The Chief managed to talk them out of it. They were pretty eager to, though. Apparently people aren’t happy when two burglars sneak into their backyard at night and try to plant stolen evidence in a murder case. Go figure.”

“This evidence was stolen?” asked Dad, delightedly licking from his spoon and helping himself to a cup of coffee. He seemed to enjoy the episode tremendously.

“Yeah, they stole the jerrycans from the house of Joshua Curtis, suspect in a murder case. They figured they were doing Odelia a favor, while in fact they weren’t doing anyone any favors at all, least of all themselves. But we got it all squared away and the evidence is safely secured, and willbe processed for fingerprints and the like.”

“But why? Why is she doing this?!” Mom cried.

“Because I wanted to save Odelia’s client, of course,” a voice spoke from the sliding glass door, which had opened and closed to allow the final member of the Poole family to join this impromptu breakfast meeting.

“Thanks for nothing by the way, Gran,” said Odelia. “I never asked you to steal evidence for me. And now Uncle Alec thinks I’m trying to sabotage his investigation and won’t let me come anywhere near the case.”

“Look, I’m sure Joshua Curtis will have a perfectly good explanation for why those empty jerrycans were in his garage.”

“Actually he doesn’t,” said Chase. “I interviewed him again last night, and he claims he’s never seen those jerrycans before, nor did he put them in his garage. He claims someone must have planted them.”

“And did they?” asked Odelia, interested in anything Joshua had to say.

“Of course not. He’s just trying to wriggle himself out of this thing.”

“That does seem rather like a silly thing to do though, don’t you think?” said Dad.

“What does, Dad?” asked Chase as he took a seat next to his father-in-law.

“Well, if this Joshua Curtis really did torch the place, and killed those people, wouldn’t he have made sure not to leave the jerrycans lying around his garage? Murderers usually try to conceal the evidence of their crimes, don’t they? I mean, I’m not a murderer myself, so I can’t speak from experience, but that seems to be one of the first rules of murder: get rid of the evidence.”

“See?” said Gran. “I knew he didn’t do it!”

“He did do it,” said Chase. “No question about his guilt at this point. As to why he didn’t get rid of the evidence.” He shrugged. “When you’ve been a cop for as long as I have, Dad, you understand that there are clever criminals, and not-so-clever ones. And clearly Joshua belongs in the last category.”

“He gave me the impression of being very clever,” Odelia countered.

“Yeah, well, as I see it the man let his emotions get the better of him. He was so in love with Melanie Myers that the idea that another man was putting his hands on her made him so angry he just had to kill him. And so he didn’t think things through.”

“I think you’re wrong, Chase,” said Gran. “I think you and Alec got this whole thing backward, and because you’re so focused on Joshua, you’re letting the real killer walk.”

“Ma, please promise me never to get arrested again,” said Odelia’s mom. “It’s not a good look. We all have to live in this town, and you know how people like to talk.”

“Oh, let them talk. I know I was doing the right thing.”

“You were caught stealing!”

“Caught planting stolen evidence,” Chase quietly corrected her.

“I was trying to help your daughter!”

“Please don’t help me anymore, Gran,” Odelia pleaded. “Your help is not helping me.”

“So this is the kind of thanks I get! After all that I’ve done for you?! Anyway, I can’t stand around here arguing. I’ve got things to do and people to see. So I wish you all a good day, and don’t call me—I’ll call you.” And with these words, she was off, leaving a lot of bemused glances to rake her retreating back.

Chapter 26

“Max?”

“Mh.”

“Max!”

I opened one eye and saw that Harriet desired speech with me.

“Yes?” I said, and yawned prodigiously, stretching myself in the process. I’d been quietly dozing in a corner of Odelia’s office, while my human worked away at a couple of articles: one about two elderly ladies being arrested for trespassing—no mention was made of the jerrycans, at the request of the police department—and one about the arrest of a suspect in the case of arson that had claimed the lives of three tragic victims. Suffice it to say she had her work cut out for her.

“You have to do something!” Harriet said.

“What,” I said, “do I have to do?”

“You have to convince the other members of the commission to let that vote swing my way!”

“What vote?” And then I remembered. “Oh, that vote. Look, Harriet, I can’t let the vote swing your way. We’re a neutral commission and we’re going to find a solution that is beneficial to everyone.”

“But Max—you’re my friend! My best friend!”

“I know I’m your friend, Harriet, but Shanille is also my friend, and I’m going to be fair and square about this thing.”

“Look, if you do me this one little favor I’m going to make it worth your while.”

“How are you going to make it worth my while?” I said, wondering what she’d come up with.

“Well, I’ll…” She paused, thinking hard. “I’ll, um…”

“Yes?”

“I could give you some of my food,” she suggested. “Some of my Cat Snax. In fact why don’t I give you all of my Cat Snax for the next three months—six months,” she quickly interposed when she saw the dubious expression on my face. “A year!”

“Look, I don’t need your Cat Snax, Harriet. I have plenty of Cat Snax of my own. And what’s more, I still have to live in this town, and if I’m going to be corrupted by your offer I won’t be able to show my face around here again. And neither, I have to warn you, will you.”

“But I have to win this thing! I threw down the gauntlet and if I don’t win now cats will laugh at me—I’ll be the laughingstock of the whole town!”

“You probably should have thought of that before you started quarreling.”

“Oh, Max, you have to help me. You simply have to make the vote swing my way. I need to get rid of Shanille.”

“I’m sorry, Harriet.”

Her expression turned hostile.“And here I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend. And I’m trying to do the right thing. And you know what would help a lot? If you’d go up to Shanille and apologized.”

“What?! Me apologize to that harridan! Never!”

I watched her stalk off and wondered, frankly, how we were ever going to get out of this mess, when suddenly the door swung open and a woman entered. I didn’t recognize her, which is saying something, as I know a lot of people in this town.

“Miss Poole?” the woman said. “Miss Odelia Poole?”

Odelia looked up from her laptop.“Yes?”

“My name is Francine Ritter. I used to be married to Franklin Harrison—the man who was killed the other night in a fire?”

“Oh, of course. Please take a seat, Mrs. Ritter,” said Odelia. “What can I do for you?”

Mrs. Ritter was a fair-haired woman in her late thirties, dressed in a purple tunic and black leggings. Her hair was frizzy and she looked a little unkempt.

“The thing is, my ex-husband hadn’t paid child support in months, and I’d been hounding him to come through.”

“You and Franklin had kids?”

“Yeah, two little girls. And ever since we got divorced it’s been really tough, and Franklin didn’t make it any easier, with his refusal to pay for the girls.”

“Any reason he refused to pay?”

“Plain meanness, I guess,” said the woman with an embarrassed smile. “Frankly I didn’t know what kind of man I married until a couple of months into the marriage. When we were dating he was the sweetest guy on the planet, always buying me gifts and showering me with affection. But after thegirls were born, he seemed to lose interest in the life of a married man and father. He started going out more and staying away longer, and didn’t take up his share of the work in raising the girls. And when I discovered he was having affairs with other women, I finally decided that enough was enough.”

“As I understand it Franklin died destitute,” said Odelia. “His dad cut him off, and he was living in a squat house after he was evicted from his apartment for not making rent.”

“I know. I heard about that. But he was still the father of my girls, and he didn’t keep his end of the bargain, so now I’m trying to talk to his brother. Set up a meeting. They need to take their responsibility and step up. But so far they’ve been ignoring me. They won’t take my calls, they won’t answer my letters.”

“Can’t you hire an attorney? Go to court?”

Mrs. Ritter blushed.“I’m afraid I don’t have the money, Miss Poole. The Harrisons are very wealthy people, and I feel—I feel I don’t stand much of a chance. The arrangement was between Franklin and myself. They’ll simply argue they have no obligations to me.”

“I understand,” said Odelia. “So what do you suggest?”

“Couldn’t you perhaps talk to them? Maybe they’ll listen to you. Or you could threaten to write an article.”

Odelia nodded thoughtfully.

“You could write how one of the richest families in town refuses to take care of their own. I may be divorced, but my girls are still Herbert and Ruth’s granddaughters. It’s disgraceful the way they simply cut them out of their lives like that.”

“Your girls haven’t seen their grandparents?”

“Not since the divorce.”

“That’s pretty harsh,” said Odelia.

“Just call it what it is: cruel.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Odelia. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

“If you could just talk to them. I know they’ll listen to you. They have a business to run. They may be heartless and cruel, but they are also afraid of negative publicity, so…”

When the woman left the office, I decided to follow her out. I hadn’t seen Dooley in a while, and I had the feeling he might be outside, keeping an eye out for that elusive and hard-working stork who’d been lugging Odelia’s babies around ever since she got married.

Dooley was indeed sitting outside on the sidewalk, his eyes peeled as he kept a close watch on the skies above Hampton Cove.

“Any sign of the stork?” I asked him.

“He isn’t showing his face,” he lamented. “Do you think something scared him off?”

“Yeah, that must be it,” I said as I took a seat next to my friend.

Francine Ritter had crossed the street, and was walking along the sidewalk when suddenly she halted in her tracks, and seemed to stiffen.

A man came from the other direction, and he, too, halted, then quickly made an about-face and started walking back the way he’d come.

“Marvin!” she yelled. “Marvin, wait!”

The man stopped and turned, and for a moment they engaged in tense conversation. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from their body language it was obvious these people weren’t friends. There was a lot of angry yelling from Mrs. Ritter’s side, and stony-faced looks from this Marvin person’s side. And as I watched, suddenly I recognized the man as Marvin Harrison, who Mrs. Ritter had been trying to get hold of about that missing child support.

Clearly Marvin wasn’t happy to bump into his former sister-in-law, and I didn’t think she’d be able to extract a lot of money from him.

The meeting finally came to an abrupt end, and Marvin crossed the street, then came walking in our direction. A nice black Tesla stood parked at the curb, and I had the feeling it could just be Mr. Harrison’s ride.

Just as he reached our side of the street, he turned and glanced back in the direction of Mrs. Ritter. And as he watched her stalk off, an angry spring in her step, I thought I saw a distinct look of fear in the man’s eye. Clearly he wasn’t happy about this surprise meeting. Mrs. Ritter was correct in assuming the Harrisons abhorred negative publicity.

Chapter 27

“Why is Dooley looking at the sky the whole time, Max?” asked Odelia as she glanced back at her cats through the rearview mirror.

“He’s still looking for your stork,” Max explained. “He feels that bird has worked so hard, and come so far carrying that baby—”

“Or babies,” Dooley corrected him.

“—or babies, that it would be very unkind to send him all the way back to… Where did you say he came from, Dooley?”

“Baby-land, of course. Everybody knows that, Max.”

“It’s the land where they make the babies,” Max said.

“Oh-kay,” said Odelia, a smile on her face. Dooley was so sweet. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that storks didn’t make home deliveries, and that babies didn’t come from baby-land.

They were on their way to the vast estate—or at least she assumed it was an estate, and vast—of the Harrison family, to argue the case of Francine Ritter’s missing child support checks. It was the least she could do for the poor woman, she thought. And it would give her an opportunity to meet Franklin Harrison’s family. She felt alittle bad now, for taking on Joshua Curtis’s case. Clearly the man was guilty after all, and working to prove his innocence had probably been a misguided effort on her part.

They arrived at the entrance to what indeed was an estate, and she announced her arrival to the intercom located outside the tall gate. The gate swung open, and she directed her aged old car along the drive toward a sizable mansion and parked in the circular drive, her tires crunching the nice yellow gravel that looked like brown sugar.

“You know the drill, you guys,” she said as she opened the door. “You snoop around while I talk to the people in charge of this place.”

“Will do,” said Max, and both cats hopped out, Dooley keeping a close eye on the skies all the while.

The front door opened the moment she set foot on the first step of a granite landing and for a moment she was too startled to proceed: the man who greeted her at the door was… Franklin Harrison. “Hi,” said the apparition. “I’m Marvin Harrison. And you are Odelia Poole, of course. I read your articles all the time, Miss Poole. Please come in.”

He was a little stiff and serious, and his glasses gave him a bookish look, but otherwise he was the spitting image of his now dearly departed brother.

“You and Franklin were twins?” she couldn’t help blurting out.

“Yeah, we were identical twins,” Marvin confirmed as he led the way into a sitting room. “Born just two minutes apart, or at least that’s what my mother claims. Please take a seat. I’ll go and get Mother.”

She did as he suggested, but not before walking around the room and taking in the scene: the floor was marble, with a nice thick rug for warmth, and there were white columns supporting a ceiling that was adorned with intricate moldings. Paintings of horses decorated the walls, and large picture windows offered a terrific view of spreading greenery surrounding the house. Not a bad place to grow up, she thought. Strange, then, that Marvin’s brother had so gone off the rails, and met a terrible death.

She finally took a seat, and moments later Marvin returned with a matronly woman, her hair piled high on her head, dressed in long flowing robes that gave her a slightly oriental look, and wearing a stern look on her broad face. She lowered herself onto an upholstered chair and regarded Odelia like the Queen would regard a royal subject.

Marvin, dressed in a turtleneck and corduroy slacks, remained standing next to his mother’s chair. “You wished to talk to me?” said the woman a little haughtily, not exactly overflowing with joy about Odelia’s visit.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Francine Ritter came to see me this morning.”

Mother and son shared a look of concern.

“Yes?” said Mrs. Harrison a little stiffishly.

“It would appear she hasn’t received child support for the last six months, and she asked me to come and have a word with you, and maybe try to find a way to sort things out.”

“There’s nothing to sort out,” Mrs. Harrison snapped. “We don’t owe that woman anything.”

“But she’s the mother of your grandchildren.”

“That may be so but she’s also the main cause of my son’s ruin.”

“Mother, maybe we should first listen to what Miss Poole has to say,” Marvin suggested. He seemed more forthcoming about his ex-sister-in-law’s predicament than his mother.

“I will not,” said his mother, “listen to any of this nonsense. I blame that woman for Franklin’s death, and so she gets nothing—not a cent!”

“Why do you feel she’s responsible for your son’s death?” asked Odelia.

“Because ever since he met Francine, Franklin started down the path that led to his ruin.” Her face softened as she gazed upon a framed picture of her son. “Franklin was always such a sweet boy. We had high hopes for him, Herbert and I. But after he met Francine he changed. Gone was the fun-loving boy I knew and loved. He started drinking and using illegal substances and God knows what else. I didn’t recognize my own son!”

“Mother,” said Marvin warningly.

“No, Marvin, someone has to tell that woman what’s what, and clearly she’s chosen Miss Poole as her emissary.” She turned back to Odelia. “Is she taking us to court?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “I think she would prefer to deal with this amicably.”

“Amicably! There can be no amicability between us and Francine, Miss Poole.”

“But what about your granddaughters?” said Odelia, taking out her phone. She held it out, showing a picture of the two girls. They looked like two blond-haired little angels.

Mrs. Harrison momentarily seemed to relent, but then her expression hardened and she said, emphatically,“Those girls are not my blood.” And with these words, she majestically rose, and walked out.

Marvin took the seat his mother had vacated and gave Odelia an apologetic look.“I’m sorry,” he said, “but Mother feels very strongly about this. I talked to her before, and she feels that when Francine left Franklin she also forfeited any right she might have had to his money—our money. And now that he’s dead, well…”

“But surely she is entitled to the child support your brother owed her?”

“Franklin didn’t pay because Franklin couldn’t pay,” said Marvin quietly. “My brother had gone down a very dark path, Miss Poole, but I’m sure you’re aware of that. He lost his standing in the community and his position as part of this family. My father….” He glanced up at the ceiling, then continued, “My father decided to cut him off six months ago, because he felt that Franklin had become an embarrassment, and didn’t want anything more to do with him.”

“How is your father?” she asked solicitously. “Even though he was unhappy with your brother he still must have been devastated when he heard about what happened.”

“We haven’t told him. We’re afraid that if he finds out it will kill him.” He took a deep breath, and stared out the window. Odelia could see that the death of his brother had affected him powerfully. To lose a sibling is an awful thing, but to lose a twin, she knew, was like losing part ofoneself. “Father isn’t well, you see. In fact he’s pretty much at death’s door. He’s a good deal older than Mother. Mother is sixty-six, but Father is eighty-seven, and he’s been ill for quite some time. He’s strong, and he’s holding on for as long as he can, but we’re afraid thata shock like that would be the end. So we prefer to keep him in the dark. Let him think Franklin is still out there, up to his usual mischief.”

“Was he always like that, your brother?”

A smile lit up the man’s face. “Oh, yes. Franklin and I may be twins, but we couldn’t be more different. He’s always been a troublemaker. Even as a young boy he used to run around setting off firecrackers in the kitchen or shooting at windows with a BB gun. He’d drive our parents crazy. I was always the bookish kid, never happier than with my nose stuck in a book in some corner of this big rambling place we are lucky enough to call home.” He turned back to Odelia. “Don’t get me wrong, Miss Poole. I loved my brother. I absolutely did. But he was a handful, and maybe he’s better off now, wherever he is. He was definitely a tortured soul, and the last couple of years even more so than before.”

“Do you agree with your mother that Francine is to blame for his behavior?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said emphatically. “In fact I think Francine had a positive influence on him. While they were together he was doing much better. Unfortunately he couldn’t accept the responsibility of fatherhood, and of raising a family, and so he escaped, and soon was up to his oldtricks again. Sleeping around, doing drugs…”

“Did you know he was living in a squat house?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” said Marvin softly. “He’d clearly gone downhill since the last time I saw him. Even though Father had cut him off, we still met up from time to time, and so did mother—behind Father’s back, of course.” He smiled a small smile and picked up the portrait of his brother. “All I can think is that he’s in a better place now.”

Chapter 28

After we got out of the car we looked around for any pets we could talk to. Odelia likes to get the inside track of any place she visits, and the best way to accomplish that is through us. People might keep a lot of secrets from other people, but they can’t keep secrets from their pets, and since those pets usually like to gab as much as humans do, we usually get an earful.

“Is that a horse, Max?” asked Dooley suddenly, indicating a small pen where a pony stood grazing languidly.

“I think that’s a pony,” I said.

We walked over to the pony, and it looked up from its perusal of its supply of grass.“Hey, there,” it said as soon as we hove into view. “Are you guys the new pets? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Are you Marvin’s? Or his mom’s? Gee, I just wish they’d get another pony. It’s not much fun being all by my lonesome out here, you know. I could really use a friend to talk to. Shoot the shit. Chew the cud. Though personally I don’t chew cud—I’m not a cow, you see. I’m a pony, if you hadn’t noticed. So who are you guys?”

“He’s a big talker, Max,” Dooley whispered.

“Yeah, he is,” I whispered back. Which is a good thing, of course. Nothing worse than a pet who won’t talk to us.

“We’re not the new pets,” I said, “either of Marvin or his mother.”

“We’re Odelia Poole’s cats,” said Dooley. “And she’s just visiting your humans—those are your humans in there, I suppose?”

“Yeah, they got me for Franklin’s kids, but then Franklin got divorced and the girls haven’t been here since. Ruth doesn’t like the girls’ mother, see. She thinks she did something to make Franklin leave her, and go down a path of self-destruction, and so she refuses to talk to her anymore, or the girls. Which is a pity, as I don’t have anyone to play with now. The girls were fun. Jaime and Marje. They’re twins, just like Franklin and Marvin. Maybe the twin gene runs in the family? I don’t know. You tell me.”

Unfortunately I had no expert opinion on the twin gene topic, so I decided to skip this one. Instead I explained,“Odelia is here to plead Francine’s case. She wants to make sure the girls are taken care of, since Franklin wasn’t the best at that kind of thing.”

“He refused to pay child support,” Dooley clarified.

“Yeah, Franklin was what you might call an irresponsible father,” the pony agreed. “In fact I don’t think he even liked to be a dad. Which is weird, cause these girls are really nice, and how can anyone not like them, you know? But hey, I guess that’s just the way it goes, you know. My name is Jane, by the way—what’s yours?”

“I’m Max,” I said, “and this is my friend Dooley.”

“Nice to meet you, Max and Dooley. So did you know Franklin?”

“No, we didn’t,” I admitted.

“He was a little weird. Selfish. Wasn’t interested in anyone but himself. And that included me! He didn’t like ponies. Had no use for them, he once told me.” Jane shook her head. “So not a nice person.” She then ripped off a big chunk of grass with her tongue and started chewing. “Toobad he died, though. He wasn’t nice, but that doesn’t mean he had to die.”

“How do you know he died?”

“Duh. I may be the only pony here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have friends, you guys.” Just then, a bird landed on her back and started twittering like crazy. “This is Jake,” said the pony affectionately. “He brings me all the latest news from town.”

The bird took off again, and I asked,“So did your friend Jake tell you what happened to Franklin?”

“Yeah, he did. Died in a fire, right? In some crumbling old building? Sad way to go.” She shivered. “To die by fire. Terrible business. I hate fires, you know. Always afraid one will start and it will kill me.”

“I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, Jane,” I said.

“That’s what you think, Max. There was a fire here a while back. I could see the smoke. I thought that was it. I was going to be for it. But luckily it went out again. Probably Chester burning some old leaves. At least that’s what Jake told me later.”

“Chester? Who’s Chester?” I asked.

“Chester Sosnoski. The gardener. He’s great. Keeps the place looking shipshape. He’s probably the best gardener for miles around. Or at least that’s what Ruth says.”

I glanced around, and had to admit that Chester did a great job: the grass was cut to perfection, the flowerbeds were all immaculate, with not a weed in sight, and all in all the gardens looked more like a golf club than our own backyard. Then again, the Harrisons probably had a lot more spending power and could get the best gardener that money can buy. We have to make do with Gran occasionally remembering she’s supposed to have a green thumb, and Tex finding the time to mow the lawn.

We said our goodbyes to Jane the talking pony, and decided to go for a little stroll, especially after learning that there were no other pets around, so it was frankly pointless for us to enter the house, since there would be no kibble to be had, unfortunately.

And we’d walked perhaps half a mile or so when we came upon a small structure that at one time had been an animal shed, but that now showed signs of fire damage.

“This might be what Jane said she saw,” Dooley intimated.

“Yeah, might be,” I said, “though it does look as if this fire happened a long time ago.”

“They probably want to tear it down but haven’t gotten round to it.”

Just then, a man dressed in rubber boots and a green anorak that had seen better days came stomping up, accompanied by a man who was also in rubber boots but otherwise immaculately dressed.

“So this is where they want the pagoda,” the man in the anorak said.

“Excellent location, Chester,” said the well-dressed man. “I’ll get busy on the plans.”

“She wants it ready as soon as possible.”

“Not a problem. I’ll make it a priority.”

“I think that man is an architect,” I explained to Dooley, “and that man is Chester the gardener.”

Looked like I was right: the dilapidated structure had been earmarked for destruction, a nice pagoda about to take its place.

“Let’s get back to the house,” I suggested. “Odelia will probably be finished by now.”

And so we set a course back to the house. Suddenly the man named Chester uttered a loud cry, and yelled,“Cats! Where did they come from?! Catch those darn cats!”

Looks like we’d overstayed our welcome!

Chapter 29

“So what did you guys discover?” asked Odelia.

They were driving back to town, and she was still mulling over everything that was said.

“Nothing much,” said Max.

“The Harrisons bought a pony for Francine’s daughters,” said Dooley, “but now they don’t come around anymore and the pony doesn’t have anything to do and she’s bored. But lucky for her she has a bird friend called Jake who tells her everything that goes on.”

“Poor pony,” said Max. “Has to stand there all day and nobody is riding her.”

“Yeah, the mom refuses to have anything to do with her former daughter-in-law,” said Odelia. “Or Francine’s girls. Which is such a pity.”

“Oh, and the gardener is called Chester and he doesn’t like cats,” said Dooley. “He even chased us but we were too fast for him—isn’t that right, Max?”

“Yeah, we were too fast for the guy,” Max said with a grin.

“He chased you?” said Odelia. “But why?”

“No idea,” said Max. “He seems to think cats are a pest.”

“Some gardeners do think cats destroy their nice lawns,” she admitted. “Digging holes to do their business in.”

“We would never do that,” said Max indignantly.

“We might eat the grass,” Dooley said. “Especially if it’s nice grass. We do like a bit of nice grass, right, Max?”

“Yeah, but how much damage can one cat do? Nobody will miss a few blades of grass.”

“I’m still happy he didn’t catch you,” said Odelia. “Some of these gardeners have pitchforks, and they don’t mind using them.”

“Pitchforks!” said Dooley, his voice skipping an octave. “Yikes!”

“I probably should have told them I was bringing my cats along, that way you wouldn’t have been in any danger.”

“Oh, dear,” Max murmured.

“Max, pitchforks!” Dooley cried. “But I don’t want to die by pitchfork! That sounds very painful!”

“I don’t think we were ever in any danger, Dooley,” said Max. “And I didn’t see any pitchforks—did you?”

“No, I didn’t see any pitchforks, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there!”

“You made it out alive, and that’s the main thing,” said Odelia.

Just then, her phone chimed, and she pressed one of the earbuds into her ear, and pressed the button on the phone.“Odelia Poole speaking,” she said over the noise of her ancient car’s whining engine.

“Hi, Miss Poole,” said a familiar voice. “This is Francine Ritter. I came to see you this morning?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I just paid a visit to your former in-laws, Mrs. Ritter.”

“There’s no need, Miss Poole. I just talked to Marvin Harrison on the phone, and he’s agreed to pay me what his brother owed me. He’ll even throw in a little bonus.”

“He did? But that’s great news!”

“Isn’t it? I’m so happy I could cry.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news.”

“Thanks, Miss Poole,” said Francine. “Thank you so much for all that you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do much,” said Odelia, feeling much relieved. “I just had a little chat, that’s all.”

“Well, anyway, just thought you’d want to know.”

After they’d disconnected, she thought back to her conversation with Marvin and his mother. Clearly in spite of Ruth’s hard words, Marvin had managed to convince her to take a less cruel stance, and pay the mother of her grandchildren her due.

“What happened, Odelia?” asked Max.

“That was Francine Ritter. Marvin called her. He’s going to pay her the back child support. Isn’t that great?”

“That is great news!” said Max.

“You should ask him to let the kids play with Jane again,” said Dooley. “He really needs to do that, so that Jane will be a happy pony again.”

“Well, let’s hope that relations will get back to normal and Ruth will invite her granddaughters over for visits again,” said Odelia. Marvin looked like a decent person, and she hoped he’d continue to do right by Francine and his two little nieces.

For a moment, she lapsed into thought, and soon found her mind drifting back to the case of Franklin Harrison’s death. For some reason something was still bothering her about the whole business. And suddenly she decided to have another chat with those disagreeable neighbors—the Dibbles.

“Are we going to visit the Dibbles again?” asked Max after she’d steered the car in that direction. That cat never missed a trick.

“Yeah, I thought I’d apologize on Gran’s behalf,” she said. “And maybe ask them again about that phone call. See, that keeps bothering me, Max.”

“What does?”

“So there were three phone calls, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“One of those calls was Gran, the other one was Joshua—so who was the third caller?”

“And you think it might have been the Dibbles?”

“It must be, right?”

“But they say it wasn’t them.”

“I know, but they could be lying.”

Max thought about that for a moment.“Why is this so important?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Call it a hunch.”

“Your hunches are usually aces.”

“Why, thanks, Max.”

“So you should follow them,” he advised.

She pulled up outside the Dibble place and got out.“I think this time you better stay put. The Dibbles didn’t strike me as the kind of people who would love your company.”

“Sure thing,” said Max.

She hurried across the street and rung that now-familiar mother-of-pearl bell again. Moments later the door opened a crack, just like it had last night, and two hostile eyes bored into hers.“You again,” said the woman. “What do you want this time?”

“Hi, Mrs. Dibble. I just thought I’d drop by to—”

“Bart!” the woman suddenly bellowed. “Better watch out! That reporter from last night is here again. I’ll bet she’s trying to distract us while her grandma burgles the place!”

“My grandmother is nowhere near here,” said Odelia, who hoped that this was true. “In fact I’m here to apologize on her behalf. She should never have done what she did.”

“I heard they let her out again. They should have kept her under lock and key. The woman is loony tunes. And so is her friend.”

“Look, I just wanted to ask you once again: are you sure it wasn’t you who called the police the night of the fire?”

“I told you this before and I’ll tell you again, cause obviously you have a problem with your ears. We didn’t call no cops.”

“But at the police station they told me you’ve called the police many, many times these last couple of months. So why not when there was a fire…”

The woman’s eyes flickered dangerously, and Odelia suddenly understood.

“Youwanted that place to burn down, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t call the police. You hoped the place would burn down and you’d be rid of it once and for all.”

“So what if we did? You can’t believe the trouble we’ve had, missy. People coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Drug dealer central is what it was. So if you’re going to ask me if I’m happy someone torched the place? Hell, yes, I am. I think whoever set fire to that dump deserves a medal.”

“But three people died.”

“Not people, drug dealers!”

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think? They may have been drug dealers, or drug addicts, but that doesn’t mean they deserved to die.”

“Nothing out here, Ma!” the woman’s husband yelled. “I think this time she came alone!”

“Good,” grunted the woman, and made to close the door.

“One more question,” said Odelia quickly.

“Oh, what is it now?”

“So you said you saw my grandmother sitting in her car, with her friend, yeah?”

“So?”

“And you saw Joshua Curtis come walking out of the house. Did you see anybody else? Someone acting suspicious or who wasn’t supposed to be here that time of night?”

“Look, people acting suspicious was all that place was about.”

“But that particular night?”

The woman stared at Odelia for a moment, then finally said,“One person came walking from behind that fence over there. I remember thinking they looked entirely too well-dressed to be a drug addict or even a dealer.”

“They?”

“Couldn’t see if it was a man or a woman. Kept their head down.”

“And this person came from behind that fence?” She glanced across the street. Next to the house where Franklin Harrison had died, a fence had been erected, to shield off the vacant lot which lay behind it. Graffiti covered the fence, giving it a derelict look.

“Yeah, crawled right from behind it.”

“So not out of the house?”

Mrs. Dibble shook her head.“But that doesn’t mean anything. There’s a back entrance to number 51. Behind that fence is just an empty lot, all overgrown weeds and brush. You cross it and you’re at the house. Junkies use it all the time. It’s like a minefield of needles and junk. I’ve told the police many times to clean that place up. It’s dangerous, both for pets and kids. Though no decent parent would let their kids play out there, and no pet owner on this block would ever let their dog off the leash to run around there.”

“I don’t understand why my grandmother didn’t see this person. She was parked out here for at least half an hour before the fire.”

“She wouldn’t have. The person got out on the far side of the fence and walked off in the other direction, away from where your grandmother and her friend were parked.”

“So… why didn’t you tell the police about this person?”

The woman was conspicuously silent for a moment, then growled,“I told you before, Miss Busybody, whoever torched that place deserves a medal, and I’m not the one who’s gonna be responsible for them getting caught! If your grandma and her friend didn’t see that person, I didn’t see them neither—you got that? And now get lost already, will you?”

And with this, she finally slammed the door in Odelia’s face.

Chapter 30

We were back at the precinct, and in Chase’s office. Uncle Alec was out, and probably that was a good thing, as he was seemingly a little annoyed with his ‘civilian police consultant.’

“So this is the second call, okay?” said Chase, who was behind his desk, with Odelia having rolled up a chair next to him. He tapped a key on his computer and the subdued voice of Joshua Curtis echoed through the room. “Then there’s the third call, coming on the heels of the second one,” he said, and Gran’s voice sounded from the tinny speakers.

“Okay, so that was Joshua, then Gran. And how about that first call?”

Chase clicked a key and a voice spoke, but this one sounded really weird. Robotic.

“He must have used a voice changer,” Chase said.

“That’s some pretty sophisticated stuff, right?”

“Not necessarily. Nowadays you can easily install a voice changing app on your phone.”

“So who could this person be?” asked Odelia.

“Why do you want to know? We have our man in custody, babe.”

“Has Joshua confessed yet?”

“No, he’s still holding out,” Chase admitted. “But he’s got no leg to stand on. He did it. No doubt about it.”

Odelia didn’t seem to be so sure. “Play that last part again, will you?”

The scrambled voice sounded through the room again.‘I wish to report a fire,’ said the mystery caller. ‘Parker Street fifty-one. Better hurry, or else the whole place will be gone, and I think there’s still people inside.’Click. The call ended before the operator could ask the person for his or her identity.

“So I talked to the Dibbles again,” said Odelia, “and this time Vanda Dibble admitted that she saw a person crawling out from behind the fence next to Parker Street fifty-one, hurry to their vehicle, and take off. Isn’t it possible that this third person is our mystery caller?”

“Could be,” Chase admitted. “But so what? Could have been a person walking their dog and seeing the fire, or someone driving past the house and doing their civic duty by calling it in.”

“I don’t think so. Like I said, this person came from behind that fence. There’s a vacant lot that leads straight to the back door of number fifty-one. So they could have come from the house.”

“Or they could have stopped to take a leak.”

“Or it could be the arsonist—and our mystery caller.”

Chase thought for a moment, then said,“There’s no traffic cameras set up on Parker Street, but there is a traffic camera at the nearest intersection. So if you’re coming from outside the neighborhood, and want to get out again, you’d have to pass that particular intersection.”

“Can you access that footage?”

Chase nodded, and messed around on his computer some. Finally the screen showed some grainy black-and-white footage of the intersection in question, and so for the next fifteen minutes we all watched… nothing. No cars passing by at that time of night. And then, suddenly, a car did pass. It crossed the intersection and then in a flash was gone.

“Is that the right direction?” asked Odelia.

“Yeah, it is. They’re coming from the neighborhood and driving away from town.”

“Can you see the license plate?”

Chase paused the footage, then selected the part containing the license plate and blew it up and jotted down the number. He typed it into another application, looking it up in the registry. And when the name popped up on the screen, they both gasped.

“Ruth Harrison!” Odelia cried.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chase said.

“What was Franklin’s mother doing out there? And, more importantly, could she be our mystery caller?”

“Why don’t we go and ask her?” Chase suggested, and grabbed his coat.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Arriving back at the house, this time with Chase behind the wheel of his squad car and Odelia riding shotgun, Odelia had that excited sensation that she was close to solving a baffling mystery.

“There’s probably a perfectly good explanation,” said Chase as they got out of the car and walked up to the house. “So don’t get your hopes up, all right?”

When he rang the doorbell, this time it was Ruth Harrison herself who opened the door. When Chase flashed his badge, a look of fear briefly flashed across the woman’s face.

“Chase Kingsley, Hampton Cove police department,” he introduced himself. “And you’ve met Odelia Poole, my civilian consultant.”

“And also your wife, or so I’ve been told,” said the woman, quickly regaining her poise.

“Yeah, we got married last week,” said Chase with a slight grin.

“Congratulations,” said Mrs. Harrison as she stepped back to let them in. Once more they passed through to the sitting groom. “If you’ve come to talk to Marvin, I’m afraid you just missed him. He drove back into town to attend to some business.”

“It’s actually you we want to talk to,” said Chase, not beating about the bush.

“Me?”

“Yeah, something has come to our attention that we’d like to run by you.”

Odelia and Chase took a seat on the davenport, with Ruth Harrison opting for a chair.

“What were you doing outside the house where your son Franklin lived on the night of the fire, Mrs. Harrison?” asked Chase.

“What do you mean? I was never there, at that filthy place.”

“If you weren’t there, then how do you know it was filthy?” asked Odelia.

“People have told me these things, Miss Poole. They knew how concerned I was for the wellbeing of my son, and so they reported back to me what was going on in his life.”

Chase had taken out his phone and now showed it to Mrs. Harrison.“This is a picture taken with a traffic camera at the intersection close to Parker Street 51, Mrs. Harrison. You will note the timestamp, and also the license plate, which is clearly visible. A license plate, I might add, which is registered in your name. So I’ll ask you again: what was your car doing out there, five minutes after a person using a voice changing app called 911?”

The woman stared at the picture for a moment, then finally relented.“Yes,” she said. “I was driving that car. I–I didn’t want to be associated with this mess, so I used a voice changer on my phone when I called in the fire. I’m sorry for lying to you, Miss Poole, but…”

“Yes, why did you lie?” asked Chase.

She folded her hands in her lap.“You must understand: even though Franklin had gone down a dark road, he was still my son, and I still loved him and wanted him to turn things around and get on his feet again. So that night I decided to pay him a visit. I’d heard he’d been kicked out of the apartment where he lived and had shacked up with a couple of his notorious friends in some squat place, so I wanted to talk to him and plead with him to change his ways. And to reconcile with his father before it was too late.”

“Did you go in through the back?” asked Odelia.

“I did,” said Ruth after a pause. “I thought if only I could talk to Franklin… But when I got there it was obvious there was nothing I could do. The building was on fire, so I turned back and called the police, then drove off, hoping they’d be able to save my son.”

“You didn’t go in?”

“N-no I didn’t. There was a lot of smoke and flames. There was simply no way…”

“You didn’t think to stick around until the fire department got there?”

“No. Like I said, I didn’t want to be associated with this mess. I have Marvin to think about, and my husband, and of course the business, which relies very much on keeping its reputation intact. I can only imagine what the press would have made of it when they snapped a shot of me at such a notorious drug place, my dead son the addict inside.”

“So you ran.”

“Miss Poole, you can’t understand what it’s been like for us these last couple of years. And also, my husband decided to shut Franklin out of our lives for good. If he’d known I was still in touch with him, he’d have been devastated.” She wrung her hands. “Though it doesn’t matter now, of course.”

Suddenly a young woman stuck her head in the door and announced,“The ambulance is here, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Something wrong?” asked Odelia.

“My husband,” said Ruth. “He died.”

“Died?”

Mrs. Harrison nodded, her face suddenly a mask of grief.“Shortly after you left. I went to check on him, and found him unresponsive. He’d been ill for a long time. In fact the doctor had warned us it could be any day now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Odelia, and Chase murmured a few words of sympathy.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to bury my husband and my son.” Her composure suddenly crumpled, and a lone tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said as she touched it with the tip of her index finger. “It’s been a terrible week. Probably the worst week of my life.”

Chapter 31

Like before, Dooley and I had been left to our own devices outside. Frankly I preferred it that way. Being out and about is what it’s all about, wouldn’t you agree? And besides, I had some thinking to do: not just about the case, but also about the Harriet versus Shanille war that had broken out and threatened to split cat choir neatly down the middle if I didn’t come up with something to stop that from happening.

We wandered over to where Jane still stood, and her face lit up when she saw us. Dooley, of course, kept an eye out for Chester’s pitchfork, but so far so good.

“Hey, fellas,” she said. “Twice in one day, huh? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Nothing special,” I said. “Just that one of your humans seems to have gotten herself into some kind of trouble, that’s all.”

“Which human would that be?” she asked, interested.

“Ruth,” I said. “She drove her car into town the night her son died, and forgot to mention it to the police.”

“Ruth is getting old,” Jane said. “It must have slipped her mind.”

“I doubt it,” I said dryly. “But no worries. Odelia and Chase are on the case. They’ll get to the bottom of this thing. So what’s happening with you?”

“Nothing much,” said Jane. “Only that they’re having some builders coming in soon, or so I’ve been told by a little birdie.”

I knew we could take that literally, and said,“They’re building some kind of extension? Putting in a pool, Jacuzzi?”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Jane. “They’re building a pagoda.”

“Oh, right. We saw that.”

“What they should be building is a nice new shed for me and for my companion, of course.”

“Are you getting a companion?” asked Dooley excitedly.

“Not yet, but I keep hoping they will. Oh, and in other news, Mr. Harrison died.”

“Yeah, we knew that already,” I said. “In the fire, remember?”

“Not that Mr. Harrison. The old Mr. Harrison. Herbert. He died in his sleep just now, shortly after you left, in fact. Though I doubt whether that’s got anything to do with it.”

“He was old, though, wasn’t he?” I asked.

“Eighty-seven or eighty-eight? Something like that? And he was pretty sick, too. I don’t think he ever got over the fact that his son and heir turned down the wrong path and ruined his own life and that of his parents, too.”

“Son and heir. So was Franklin supposed to take over the business?”

“Yeah, I think that was the general idea. But Franklin had other thoughts about that, obviously. And so Marvin stepped up to the plate and has done beautifully, I have to say.”

“He’s not married, is he, this Marvin?”

“Not yet. We’re all hoping he’ll find the right woman—but so far he hasn’t.”

“Looks like Marvin is a decent guy. He called Francine and told her he’s going to pay the child support his brother owed.”

“Oh, that’s great. That means that maybe the girls will be allowed to visit again.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“One ray of sunshine this week!” said Jane happily as she pawed the ground with an excited hoof. She clearly was the ‘glass half full’ kind of pony. “It is a little sad, though.”

“What is?”

“Well, Ruth had always hoped that Franklin and his father would reconcile before the old man died, but clearly that didn’t happen. And now they’re both gone.”

From out of the house, suddenly a young woman came hurrying. She seemed to be in some kind of a quandary, for she was muttering to herself, and making frantic gestures. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her apron and lit one up, taking anxious drags.

“What’s up with her?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s Elisa,” said Jane. “She’s a little worked up.”

“Why?” I asked, my natural curiosity getting the better of me as usual.

“Slippers,” said Jane.

“Slippers?” I said laughingly.

“Yeah, she’s one of the maids. She takes care of the rooms amongst other things. She keeps placing Marvin’s slippers on one side of the bed at night, and finds them on the other side in the morning. Guess we all have our cross to bear.”

“Rich people,” I said. “They’re very eccentric, aren’t they?”

“I find that all people are eccentric,” said Dooley.

“You’re not wrong, Dooley,” said Jane commiseratively. “They are a strange breed.”

We saw how Chase and Odelia came walking out of the house and I smiled at Jane. “Well, that’s our cue,” I said. “Looks like we’re out of here.”

“Oh, do drop by to visit again,” she said. “I love nothing more than to entertain.”

“We will,” I promised, and then we were off, after a final wave of our tails in the direction of the hapless pony, who gazed after us with a sad look in her eyes.

“We really have to remind Odelia to plead with Mrs. Harrison to allow those kids to come back to play with Jane,” said Dooley. “Maybe they could even come and live here, then Jane has someone to play with all the time.”

“I’m not sure how feasible that would be, Dooley,” I said. “Clearly Ruth Harrison doesn’t like her daughter-in-law very much.”

“But she must like her granddaughters, right? Shemust like them.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said.

On our way back to town, Odelia proceeded to tell us all about the interview, and we proceeded to tell her all about our chat with Jane. All in all a very fruitful day—but still we were nowhere near proving that Joshua Curtis was innocent—if indeed he was.

“I mean, a mother would never kill her own child, would she?” Odelia argued. “So I’m inclined to believe her, Chase.”

“Me, too,” said Chase. “My money is still on Joshua Curtis.”

“Yeah—yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Odelia, slumping a little in her seat. Clearly she wasn’t happy that the person who’d come to her had proved a vicious killer.

“Jane said that Mrs. Harrison was desperate for Franklin and his father to reconcile,” I told Odelia. “So maybe that’s why she drove to that house.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that. One last-ditch attempt to bring father and son together again.” She half-turned to face us. “So did you guys have a nice chat with Jane?”

“She really wants to see those girls again,” said Dooley. “Can’t you make that happen, Odelia—pretty please?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “I’d love for that to happen, too, Dooley, but I’m afraid right now Mrs. Harrison isn’t susceptible for a reunion yet.”

“Or maybe she is,” I argued. “Maybe if Francine Ritter goes to the funeral of her ex-husband, and her ex-father-in-law, some kind of reunion might be able to be worked?”

“Oh, yes, please!” said Dooley. “You should have seen Jane, Odelia. She’s so sad. And so nice. She really needs a break.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Odelia said. “But no promises, all right? Mrs. Harrison is in a very vulnerable state right now.”

“By the way,” I said, “where was Marvin?”

“Oh, he had some business to attend to in town,” said Odelia, turning back to face the front. “The future of the company rests entirely on his shoulders now.”

I nodded and gazed out the window, while Odelia and Chase talked some more about the case. Something was nagging me, and if I could just put my paw on it…

And then, all of a sudden, I had it!

Chapter 32

Francine Ritter was feeling pretty great. In fact she felt that finally her life was starting to be all right again. She watched as her girls played on the living floor carpet of their cramped little apartment, and hoped that soon they’d be able to move into a different place—a better and bigger place.

She’d had to economize ever since Franklin had cut her off, her job at the supermarket not exactly paying the big bucks.

It had been such a stroke of luck for her to run into…

Suddenly the doorbell chimed and she frowned. Her girls looked up and she said,“Probably the mailman.”

“The mailman, yes!” said Jaime.

“Did he bring me a present?” asked Marje.

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” she said with a smile. She loved her girls so much. She’d do anything for them—and she had. In fact she’d worked the impossible. Not exactly legal, or acceptable, but sometimes a mother had to do what a mother had to do.

She walked over to the door, and was surprised when she put her eye to the peephole. For a moment, she hesitated, but then slid the bolt back and opened the door.

“I thought we’d arranged everything,” she said as she looked into her visitor’s face.

“Not quite,” was the prompt reply.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“We have to hurry, Odelia!” I said.

“But how can you be so sure?” Odelia asked.

“Trust me—I am one hundred percent sure. If you don’t get there fast you’ll have another dead body on your hands.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia, as she directed Chase to hurry along. He’d turned on the flashy blue light and was sounding his siren, too, in an attempt to stop the drama from unfolding before we got there.

“Is it the stork, Max?” asked Dooley. “Did something happen with the stork?”

“The stork is fine, Dooley,” I said. “Don’t worry about the stork.”

“So who’s in danger then?”

“We’re here,” said Chase, and made the car unceremoniously jump the curb.

We followed Odelia out of the car, and she said,“Maybe you guys better hang back. Things might get a little dangerous from here on out.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, and watched Odelia and Chase hurry up to the door of the apartment building. It wasn’t much of a dwelling, more like one of those slightly run-down places that probably shouldn’t be allowed to still accept tenants.

The moment Chase and Odelia disappeared inside, I told Dooley,“Let’s go.”

“But I thought we were supposed to hang back?”

“When have you ever known us to allow our human to enter the lion’s den without us being there to keep an eye on her, Dooley?”

“Um… never?”

“Exactly. So let’s not let her down now. Whether she likes it or not, we’re her guardian angels.”

“I thought we were feline angels?”

“That, too.”

So we hurried inside, and started up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“I think I remember Odelia telling Chase it was the third floor.”

We pretty much zoomed up those stairs. Don’t let my slightly chunky appearance fool you. I can be pretty fast when I need to be. In fact we arrived there even before Chase and Odelia did. Probably the elevator was as ancient and run down as the entire building. As luck would have it, the door to the apartment was ajar, so we rushed rightin. In the living room two little girls were playing, and from the adjoining room I heard choking sounds, so we moved right on through, and found Marvin Harrison, his hands around Francine Ritter’s throat, busily choking the life out of her.

So Dooley and I did what we do best in such circumstances: I launched myself at the man’s neck, while Dooley dug his claws into his left hand, and his teeth into his right.

Marvin screamed like a banshee, and immediately let go of his victim. For the next few moments he whirled around like a drunken sailor, one cat attached to his neck, and the other attached to his hands. When finally we were forced to let go, Chase was there, gun in hand, and quickly made the man lie flat on his belly, hands out, to make the arrest.

Francine, meanwhile, was being comforted by Odelia. The poor woman’s throat was red and swollen, but it looked like she’d be all right.

And Dooley and myself? Thanks for asking! I’m happy to announce that we were just fine. I’d been swung into a corner of the room, making a hard landing, but had escaped with my life, and Dooley had landed on the bed and was now calmly licking his claws, removing all evidence of the foul killer we’d just taken down in a concerted effort.

“He tried to kill me,” said Francine hoarsely. “The bastard tried to kill me!”