Purrfectly Hidden. Purrfect Kill. Purrfect Boy Toy

And so the guy picked us both up and carried us out of the horrible dead people freezer. He took us into a kitchen, where it was warm and didn’t smell like a hospital, and gave us a saucer of milk, and a couple of slices of liverwurst. And by the time Odelia finally showed up, we’d both settled down a little from our most terrifying ordeal.

“Oh, my sweet pets,” she said as she knelt down. “What happened to you guys, huh?”

“I got stuck on top of an ambulance,” I said.

“And I kept him company,” said Dooley.

“And then we suddenly found ourselves in a room full of dead people.”

“And Abe with his hands full of blood.”

“And Chickie on an operating table.”

“So horrible!”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Let’s get you guys home, shall we?”

She brought us back to her car and we happily jumped in. To our surprise, Harriet and Brutus sat waiting for us in the backseat. Before Odelia closed the door, though, she said,“Let me just check something. I’ll be back in a sec.” And stalked off.

After a moment, Dooley said,“She’s probably gone to get us some more liverwurst.”

Chapter 15

It had been a long time since Odelia had set foot inside the medical examiner’s office, and she did so with a sense of unease. The clinical feel of the place did little to encourage her to venture into its inner sanctum: the operating room where Abe conducted his autopsies. He was a dedicated professional and actually enjoyed his work, which she found both admirable and alittle hard to fathom. Cutting open dead people seemed like a strange way to make a living. Then again, to each their own, of course.

She found Abe as he removed his plastic gloves. He was humming a little tune. His assistants, meanwhile, returned Chickie to a semblance of good form for the funeral.

“And?” she asked, deciding to ignore the work in progress lest she lose the bagel she’d eaten while driving over here for her urgent cat rescue operation.

“Oh, hey, Odelia,” said Abe as he glanced up. He walked into his office and gestured for her to follow him. The office was a mess, documents strewn about, his desk piled high with work-related files. He sat back for a moment as he frowned. “Um… you’re here for…”

“Chickie Hay? The woman you just examined?”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Chickie Hay. Well, as I suspected she died from strangulation. And the person didn’t use a cord or a rope or anything like that.” He held up his hands instead, and wiggled his fingers. “He or she used this.”

Odelia gulped.“Anything on the perpetrator?”

“Nothing yet, except that they must have really hated Chickie. Strangulation usually indicates a personal motive. The killer has to get in there, up close and personal.”

“So was it a he or a she? I mean, you can probably tell from the size of the hands?”

But Abe shook his head. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be pinned down. “I’m sorry. Could be a man. Could be a woman. I can’t tell you with absolute certainty, Odelia.”

She sank down onto a chair.“Incredible. Usually we don’t have any suspects and in this case we have too many.”

“Hasn’t your uncle made an arrest?”

“Yes, but I’m not entirely convinced he’s the person we’re looking for.”

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, then. What about your cats? Are they all right?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. They must have been dozing on top of the ambulance when it took off.”

He chuckled.“Funny little creatures.” He lifted his hands. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I need to write my report. Your uncle is waiting, and I’ll bet a great deal of other people are, too. She was quite the celebrity, wasn’t she, this, um…” He frowned.

“Chickie Hay.”

His face cleared.“That’s right. Chickie Hay. I’m not into her style of music, I have to confess. Pop singer, was she? I’m more of a jazz man myself. This pop music…” He indicated a hand flying right over his head to show her what he thought of pop music. “Here today, gone tomorrow, whereas jazz will always survive the test of time, whether its performers are alive or have been dead for years. Now that’s real music for you.”

She got up.“Thanks, Abe, for giving me the scoop on this.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I know you’re not one of those annoying reporters who are always ready to screw up an investigation by printing stuff they have no right to. Well, good luck with your investigation, and let me know what you find.”

“Will, do, Abe,” she said, and raised a hand in farewell before leaving the office.

This case was quickly proving a real head scratcher. Usually they had a limited number of suspects but in this case they seemed to multiply the longer she worked on it. There was Laron Weskit and his wife Shannon, Charlie Dieber and his girlfriend Jamie, Nickie Hay and Yuki Hay, Hortense, Tyson, Olaf Poley, and a dozen others, members of Chickie’s staff and security team. And then there was the worrisome fact that anyone could have scaled the fence that morning and snuck into the house to commit murder.

For a person who was as universally beloved and popular as Chickie Hay, the pop star had collected a surprising number of enemies.

What she needed to do, Odelia thought as she reached the car, was make a list of all possible suspects and their motives. Maybe then she’d finally start making some progress.

She got into the car and turned to the four cats anxiously waiting in the backseat.

“And?” she said. “What have you guys discovered so far?”

“Not much,” said Max.

“Except that a coroner’s office smells like a hospital,” said Dooley, “and that it’s full of dead people kept in a very big freezer.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“But where do all these dead people come from?” asked Harriet.

Clearly Max and Dooley had been regaling the others with the story of their eventful trip.

“This is the medical examiner’s office for the entire county,” Odelia explained, “so all the suspicious deaths, all the suicides, and all the murders are brought here to be examined. And if you know that nine hundred autopsies are performed in Suffolk County every year, you can imagine Abe and his team have their hands full processing them.”

“Creepy,” said Brutus, who looked a little freaked out.

“Yes, it’s a very particular profession,” said Odelia, turning back to face the front and inserting her key into the ignition, “and personally I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Me neither,” said Max. “I wouldn’t want to do what Abe does. No way.”

“Well, that probably goes for a lot of professions out there,” she said as she started up the car and put it in gear. “There’s lots of people who wouldn’t want to be a doctor, or a baker, or a plumber, or a painter. That’s why it’s important to choose a profession you know you’re passionate about. Like me. I love being a reporter. It’s more than just a job for me. It’s something I enjoy, and would probably even do if no one paid me to do it.”

“So what professions do you advise for us to take, Odelia?” asked Harriet.

“Um…”

“I’ll start,” she said. “When I grow up I want to be a singer. Like Celine Dion. And tour the world with my band, and play in big arenas for thousands of people. I think I’m an entertainer at heart, and I think people would pay good money to watch me perform. Your turn, Brutus. What do you want to be?”

“Uh…” said Brutus, who clearly had never given this a moment’s thought. “I guess… I could come and watch your show?” he said tentatively.

She slapped him on the paw.“That’s not a job, silly. You could do my backing vocals, though. All good artists have people to do their backing vocals and you could do mine. That way we get to travel together on my tour bus and fly around the world on my jet.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” said Brutus, scratching his nose. He didn’t seem overly excited about the prospect of singing backing vocals. Not for Harriet or anyone else.

Odelia had swerved out of the garage and was now cruising along the highway.

“What about you, Max?” asked Harriet, who clearly loved this game. “What is your greatest passion?”

“Well, I love to eat,” said Max. “Especially now, being safe and sound and on my way home, I suddenly feel very hungry.”

Harriet grimaced.“Max, you’re not paying attention. We’re talking about the kind of work we want to do when we grow up. A job that is aligned with your greatest passion.”

“But I’m already grown up,” said Max, “and so are you, Harriet. And since we’re cats and not humans we don’t need a job. We have humans looking after us, and providing us with food and shelter and love and affection. The only job I see myself conceivably getting passionate about is helping Odelia solve the occasional mystery, which I already do now. But apart from that I don’t have a job, I don’t need a job, and I don’t want a job.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Max,” said Harriet, making a face. “I thought you were a cat who was going places, like me and Brutus. But instead you’re simply another deadbeat. Shame on you.” She now turned to Dooley. “What about you, Dooley? And don’t tell me your ambition in life is to eat, too.”

“Oh, no,” said Dooley. “I also like to drink. It’s very important to stay hydrated. And sleep, of course. It’s very important to get plenty of rest.”

“Oh, Dooley,”’ said Harriet with a shake of the head. “Looks like you’ve got two deadbeats on your team, Odelia. I’d say cut them loose and replace them with cats that show some spunk. A sense of initiative. But I know what you’re going to say: you can’t simply kick out Max and Dooley. And you’re probably right, from a charitable point of view, but at least try to talk some sense into them. Try to make them see that there’s more to life than eating, sleeping and drinking, will you? Because frankly it’s frustrating for two ambitious cats like myself and Brutus to have todeal with this nonsense.”

And after this long harangue, she lapsed into silence, causing Odelia to smile before herself and wisely keep her tongue.

Chapter 16

“How much longer is it, Jer?”

Jerry checked his watch.“Well, the party starts at nine. The show starts with a performance by some unknown local artists, and The Dieber and Jamie Borowiak are scheduled to perform at eleven, so that’s when we’re going to hit their rooms.”

“Are you sure the coast will be clear? What about security?”

“I told you a hundred times already—security will be downstairs, protecting the stars, not their rooms.”

“And how do you know all this, Jer?” asked Johnny, looking slightly mollified.

“Let’s just say a little birdie told me. And that same little birdie also told me we can expect a very nice haul. A very nice haul indeed,” he added with a wide grin.

“I’ll bet that little birdie wants a cut of that haul, though, right?”

“Little birdies always want a cut of the haul, Johnny. You know that.”

Johnny was shaking his head again, looking anxious.“I have a bad feeling about this, Jer. And the last time I had a bad feeling about a job and we went ahead and did it anyway, I almost got shot and we both spent the rest of the month in the slammer.”

“You won’t spend a minute in the slammer this time,” said Jerry, patting his friend on the back. “I’ve got it all worked out. There isn’t a contingency I haven’t considered, and no risk that I haven’t eradicated. This is the most lucrative, easiest job we’ll ever pull, buddy. Justyou wait and see.”

“I don’t know, Jer,” said Johnny, looking particularly dubious.

“Well, I do, so just trust me and get ready to rake in the dough.”

Jerry settled back as he thought about this dough they were about to rake in. It wasn’t every day they were hitting several multi-millionaires in one go. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Walk in, collect the loot, and walk out. Easy peasy. He smiled as he thought about it. This was going to be the most laid-back job they’d ever pulled!

He thought about his ex-wife Marlene. If he offered her a couple of diamond rings, a few necklaces, and one or two priceless bracelets, she might consider taking him back. And it was with a head filled with roseate hopes and dreams that he crossed his arms, dropped his chin on his chest, and dozed off.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

When Tex arrived home, he was surprised by the terrible racket rising up from the basement. It almost sounded like… a party. In his own basement!

So he set foot on the first step, and quickly descended the stairs. Much to his surprise about half a dozen senior citizens of the male persuasion stood gathered around Vesta, shooting the breeze, glasses of what looked like bubbly in their hands.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, a frown on his brow. Vesta, who seemed to be the center of attention, greeted him by raising the glass of bubbly in her own hand.

“Great news, Tex,” she said. “I’ve been selected as a last-minute addition to the show.”

“Show? What show?”

“Some shindig for a couple of the Mayor’s buddies. Plenty of bigwigs and celebs.”

“You mean the Charlie Dieber thing? But I’m playing that—with my band.”

“I know. What a coincidence, huh? We’re sharing the stage. Marge will be so thrilled. She’s always going on and on about the two of us being buddies, and now we’ll be able to give her a show from the same stage.” She held up her finger. “Hey. I just got an idea. Why don’t we sing a duet, you and me? Our bands can join us, yours and mine.”

“But… you’re part of my band!”

“Not anymore I’m not. Didn’t you get the memo? I’m going solo—with my own band.” And she gestured to the elderly men, who all stood nodding enthusiastically. And since all of them were Tex’s patients he couldn’t even freak out in front of them.

“But, but, but…” he sputtered.

“All this singing I’ve done for your Singing Doctors have given me a taste for the stage. I’m the kind of woman who craves the limelight. I need to be center stage, not tucked away somewhere in the back goingOoh-wah doopee dooh. I’m a star, not a minion.”

“It was my idea actually, Tex,” said one of the men whom Tex recognized as Dick Bernstein. He was a distinguished-looking gentleman, with a full head of neatly coiffed white hair and a gorgeous little mustache. He was dressed, like the other pensioners, in a nice white tux. “Talent has to shine, and supreme talent must shine supremely.” He directed an affectionate look at Vesta, who patted his cheek appreciatively.

“Yeah, Vesta’s talent is so vast Dick told her to go solo,” added a second gentleman. This was Rock Horowitz, also one of Gran’s friends, and possibly an old boyfriend, too.

The others now all murmured their assent.“Vesta was made for the stage,” another older gentleman agreed. “She has the voice, the presence, the looks. She’s a born star.”

“He’s right, you know,” said Dick. “Vesta was born a star, and it’s a surprise to me why she waited this long to shine.”

“No hard feelings, Tex?” asked Vesta. “I’m sure you’ll find some other ninny to sing backing vocals for you. After all, anyone can be a backing vocalist. Not everyone can be the star of the show like me.”

“But… what are you going to sing?” asked Tex, still recovering from the shock.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry your little head about that,” said Vesta with a dismissive gesture of the hand. “You just focus on your stuff and I’ll focus on mine.”

“With all due respect, Vesta,” said Rock. “I think this idea of you and Tex performing a duet is a dud.”

“I agree,” said Dick, actually twirling his mustache. “A star like you needs to be discerning. I’m sorry to have to say this, Tex, but you and your singing doctors suck.”

“I didn’t want to say it, Tex, but Dick is right,” said Vesta. “You’re simply not good enough yet. Maybe you should practice a little more before you go on stage again.”

“Not everyone is a natural like Vesta,” Rock agreed.

“If you perform a duet now you’ll only drag her down,” said Dick.

“And you don’t want to drag down a real star, do you, Tex?”

“Do you, Tex?”

“Um… no, I guess not,” said Tex, his head spinning a little at this turn of events.

“Great,” said Dick, giving him a thousand-watt smile, his gleaming white teeth practically blinding Tex.

“Excellent,” Rock agreed.

“See? What did I tell you, Vesta?” said Dick. “I told you Tex would see reason.”

“Yeah, I told you he’d let you go once he realized how talented you were.”

“Thanks, Tex,” said Vesta now, giving Tex a cursory hug. “I know it’s hard for you to let me go, but I need to spread my wings and fly. And now buzz off, will ya? I need to practice.” And she raised her glass of Tex’s best champagne to her lips and drained it.

As Tex stumbled out of the basement he felt a little sandbagged. Had he just witnessed one of thoseA Star is Born moments? Was his mother-in-law going to be the Lady Gaga in this story and Rock and Dick her Bradley Coopers? Hard to believe.

Chapter 17

“What do you mean we can’t come near them?” asked Odelia.

She was in her uncle’s office, discussing the case with the Chief and Chase, and the Chief had just dropped a bombshell.

“We can’t talk to them,” said Uncle Alec, fiddling with an empty pack of cigarettes. “At least not until after the show tonight.”

“The Mayor’s orders,” said Chase, looking as annoyed as his superior officer. “He doesn’t want his guests of honor bothered over this murder business.”

“But… wehave to talk to them. Jamie is a suspect, and so are Weskit and his wife.”

“I’m sorry,” the Chief grumbled, clearly displeased. “My hands are tied.”

“So are mine,” said Chase.

“Well, mine aren’t,” said Odelia. “And I’m going to talk to these people.”

“Odelia, don’t,” said her uncle. “The Mayor isn’t going to be happy if he finds out you disobeyed a direct order.”

“I don’t work for the Mayor! He doesn’t get to order me around.”

“Fine,” said Uncle Alec. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If he hears about this, he’ll—”

“He’ll do what? He can’t do a thing about it. Not a thing.”

“He can talk to Dan, and he can lean on him. Make your life difficult.”

“Why is this so important anyway? Who is this Laron person to the Mayor?”

“The Mayor is giving Charlie Dieber the keys to the city. He’s hoping it will attract a lot of attention. The kind of attention a town that caters to the tourist crowd wants. And poking around and trying to associate Charlie and his girlfriend, or indeed the Weskits, with Chickie Hay’s murderis bad for business. So he wants the investigation conducted quietly. Discreetly. And most of all he doesn’t want Charlie being interrogated by the police on the night he’s being awarded the keys to the city from the hands of the Mayor.”

“Fine,” said Odelia, rolling her eyes. “So all we have to do is wait until tomorrow and we’re in the clear?” She didn’t want to cause trouble for her uncle and Chase, or indeed Dan. And it wasn’t as if the Weskits or Charlie and Jamie would skip town all of a sudden. They were all famous figures and famous figures have a much harder time laying low.

“Oh, sure. Tomorrow we can interview them as much as we want. Just not tonight.”

“Okay, then. So where are we so far?” asked Chase, giving Odelia a wink.

“Not very far,” said the Chief. “We talked to everyone involved, except the foursome currently holed up at the Hampton Cove Star, and we’re not much the wiser for it.”

“We did make an arrest,” Chase reminded him. “We have young Olaf behind bars.”

“Pretty sure young Olaf is innocent,” grumbled Odelia’s uncle. “I spent two hours grilling the kid and nothing. My gut feeling is that he’s got nothing to do with this.”

“So let’s list them up,” said Odelia. “Tyson was being paid by Laron Weskit to spy on Chickie. Find out what record companies she was talking to.”

“But would he kill her over that?” asked Chase. “Not likely. Tyson is a security guy, taking money from Weskit, but he had no motive whatsoever to murder Chickie.”

“He did say she could be tough to work for.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he was going to kill her,” the Chief pointed out.

“No, you’re right. It takes a lot more than being a demanding employer to make people want to wring your neck,” said Odelia. “So who else do we have?”

“I made a list of all the people on staff,” said Uncle Alec, tapping a piece of paper on his desk. “These are the people who were in the house at the time of the murder, and so all of them could theoretically have killed Chickie.”

“Long list?” asked Odelia.

“Too long,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “Cooks, maids, security, gardener, assistants… About a dozen people in all.”

“This is a nightmare. Plenty of suspects but nothing conclusive. And no witnesses.”

“As I said, though, not much of a motive,” said Chase. “These people might not have liked their employer, but there’s not a single one among them with a criminal record.”

“What about the family?”

“Only the mother and the sister were at the house this morning,” said Uncle Alec.

“Motive?”

“Not one that I can see,” said Chase. “Both mother and sister were dependent on Chickie’s success. With her gone, the goose that lays the golden eggs is also gone, and even though they probably stand to inherit a fortune, that money will run out.”

“Her death is likely to generate an enormous income stream, though,” said Odelia.

“In the short term, yes, but not in the long run. And why would Yuki kill her own daughter? Or Nickie kill her sister? I don’t see a motive, do you?”

Odelia shook her head. She didn’t see a motive there, either.

“Moving on, we have Jamie Borowiak. And we have Shannon Weskit.”

“Both have motive and Jamie definitely had opportunity. She was there that morning, and could have come back. And Shannon Weskit could have snuck in unseen.”

“Apparently anyone could have snuck in unseen,” Uncle Alec grumbled.

“What about the coroner’s report?” asked Odelia. “Anything that stands out?”

“Nothing,” said the Chief, sagging a little. “No fingerprints, no DNA—at least not so far. Almost as if our mystery killer is a ghost.” He sighed. “Where are the days when a killer would leave a nice footprint right outside the window? Or a set of fingerprints?”

“All the bad guys watch CSI nowadays,” said Chase.

Odelia and Chase got up as if on cue.“I need to start working on my article,” she said.

“Are your cats all right?” asked Chase.

“Oh, yes, they’re fine. A little shook up, but nothing a bowl of kibble won’t fix.”

“They didn’t find anything either, I assume?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Apart from that clue about Jamie and the fact that the bodyguard was in touch with Laron Weskit, nothing so far,” she admitted.

“Well, at least it’s more than what we found,” said Chase.

“Tell them to keep digging,” said Uncle Alec. “They’ve come through for us before, and I have a feeling we’re going to need every helping paw we can get.” He laughed at his own joke. “Get it? Lend a helpingpaw?” When no laughter ensued, he shook his grizzled head. “Kids these days. No sense of humor.”

Chapter 18

Odelia had dropped us off at the house before racing off again, and frankly I was happy to be home. This sleuthing business can be fun, but today it had taken a lot out of me, and I couldn’t really be bothered to find out who had killed whom, to be honest.

The first thing I did was eat my fill, then I proceeded to this week’s favorite spot, and as I made myself comfortable on the windowsill, which offers a great view of what goes on out in the street, I heaved a contented sigh and finally started to feel like myself again.

Dooley had joined me—plenty of space on the sill—and was smiling benignly.

“Maybe our purpose in life is simply to nap, Max,” he said now.

“You know what, Dooley? I think you’re absolutely right. I mean, some individuals are born to be presidents and leaders of nations, while others, like us, are simply born to nap. And frankly I’m absolutely okay with that. It’s a fate I’m completely at peace with.”

“Me, too,” Dooley said, and my eyes were already starting to drift closed.

“Hey, you guys!” suddenly a shrill voice sounded from the floor. I made the effort to shift my gaze to that particular spot and saw that Harriet and Brutus were among us once more.

“Hey, Harriet,” I muttered. “What’s up?” Not that I was dying to know, but even though my purpose in life may be to raise the art of napping to new and greater heights, that still leaves me with a basic respect for the niceties of social interaction.

“Guess what? I’m making my big debut tonight! Yay me!”

“Debut?” I asked. “Debut as what?”

“As a singer and stage presence. I just found out Gran is performing at the Hampton Cove Star tonight, and when I told her about my great ambition to be a singer, she invited me to perform one song as part of her act. She’s been contracted to do two songs, and she’s graciously offering me part of her allotted time for my debut. Isn’t that just great?”

“Amazing,” I said, not the least bit interested. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Knock ‘em dead.”

“Who is she going to knock dead?” asked Dooley.

“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said.

Harriet looked annoyed.“You don’t have to be rude about it, Max,” she said. “Just because you don’t have any ambitions in life other than to lie on your flabby belly doesn’t mean you should be demeaning to the rest of us, who have a higher calling.”

“I’m not being demeaning,” I said. “I said knock em dead, didn’t I?”

“You’re obviously saying I sing so bad people will drop dead. Well, let me tell you—”

“Knock em dead is a commonly used expression in showbiz, Harriet. It means that you’ll do so well you’ll knock the audience off their feet. You’ll simply blow them away.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Well, thank you, Max. That’s very nice of you to say.”

“I’m doing backing vocals,” Brutus muttered, looking pained. “And in front of some of the greats in showbiz, too.” He smiled nervously. “Shouldn’t we rehearse, though, smoochie poo?”

“No need,” said Harriet decidedly. “Talent always shines through. Only talentless hacks rehearse. Real talent simply connects to the flow of divine genius and… dazzles.” She did the jazz paws thing to show us what she meant.

“Connect to the flow of divine genius and dazzle,” Brutus repeated, not looking entirely convinced. “Gotcha.”

“You are coming, aren’t you, Max? And you, Dooley” asked Harriet. “You have to see my debut. Or else you’ll whine and complain about it for the rest of your napping lives.”

“Sure,” I said, and Harriet smiled, then stalked off, tail high and her head even higher.

“Maybe one rehearsal?” I could hear Brutus say as they walked out into the backyard.

“No means no, Brutus. We’re stars. Stars don’t rehearse. It might jinx us.”

“No, no, of course,” he said. “You’re probably right.” His tail was down, though, which is never a good sign.

“So is Harriet going to be a big star now, Max?” asked Dooley. “And Brutus?”

“I doubt it, Dooley. It takes talent to be a star, and Harriet, regardless of her numerous other and very wonderful qualities, lacks the one thing that makes a great singer.”

“What is that?”

“She can’t sing.”

“Maybe people won’t notice?”

“Oh, I think people will notice.”

“So maybe you should tell her?”

“She wouldn’t believe me if I did. In fact she’ll probably get mad.”

“But won’t she make a fool of herself tonight?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the course of my life, Dooley,” I said, “it is that people can hardly tell the difference between a cat who can and a cat who can’t sing. To humans it all sounds the same: like caterwauling. And they rarely enjoy it. And as far as other cats are concerned, I think we’ll probably be the only cats present. The Mayor rarely invites felines to his shindigs and tonight won’t be an exception I’m afraid.”

“That’s too bad, Max. After all we are members of his community.”

“We’re members of this community but we’re not voters, Dooley. And we don’t pay taxes. So as far as the Mayor is concerned we simply don’t exist.”

“If I were able to vote I’d vote for you, Max.”

I laughed at this.“Max for mayor. Now wouldn’t that be something?”

But Dooley was serious.“I think you’d make a great mayor, Max.”

“Oh, Dooley. I’d make a terrible mayor. For one thing I can’t even sign my own name, and it’s hard to give an acceptance speech when no one in the audience understands what you’re saying. No, trust me, buddy. No cat will ever be mayor of this town. That’s one of those facts of life you better accept now or agonize about in silence forever.”

“Well, fine. But I still think you’d be great.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said with a smile. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. If I were voted mayor I’d make you my second-in-command. And maybe we’d finally outlaw all dogs in this town. Make Hampton Cove the first dog-free town in America.”

“See? Who wouldn’t vote for that?”

“Dogs, maybe?”

He thought about this for a moment.“No, you’re probably right. And if pets could vote, dogs would probably try to get a dog elected. And where would that leave us?”

“They’d probably turn Hampton Cove into the first cat-free town in America.”

Dooley shook his head sadly.“We simply can’t win, can we, Max?”

Chapter 19

Odelia arrived home wearing a deep frown. Writing the article, she’d realized how important it was to catch whoever had killed Chickie that morning, and she felt seriously hampered in her investigation by the Mayor’s veto. She now had a strong suspicion Laron Weskit and the others might skip town tonight after the show, and there was nothing she could do about it. And the more she thought about that contingency the more upset she became. And as she paced her modest home, she suddenly caught sight of Max and Dooley, quietly dozing on the windowsill, and an idea struck her.

She approached her two cats and gently shook Max, then whispered in his ear,“Yoo-hoo, sleepyhead.”

He made the cutest mewling sound, then opened his eyes and sleepily stared at her.

“I want you to go with me tonight to the Hampton Cove Star, Max. There’s a big party and I want you to do some spying for me. Think you’re up for it?”

Max yawned widely and said,“Is that the same party Harriet will sing at?”

“Harriet is going to sing tonight?”

“That’s what she said. Gran is giving her a part of her slot.”

Odelia frowned.“Gran is also going to sing?”

“It would appear so.”

“Huh,” said Odelia. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s going to be a family occasion.”

“Well, so there you go. Another good reason to be my eyes and ears tonight.”

“I want to come and see Harriet, too,” said Dooley, stretching so much he almost dropped from the windowsill. She could just prevent him from toppling into the abyss.

“You can both come,” she assured him. “You’re not going to miss Harriet’s show.”

She thought for a moment.“So, um, I don’t think cats are particularly welcome at this shindig. It’s going to be very posh, with lots of celebrities and local politicians and businesspeople. The Mayor is going to give a speech, and hand the keys to the city to Charlie Dieber, but before that they reserved the stage for local talent—that’s when Dad and Gran and Harriet will perform. And then at the end of the evening Charlie will sing a couple of songs, and a duet with Jamie. So what I need you to do is snoop around Laron’s and Charlie’s rooms. I’m not allowed to talk to them and neither is my uncle or Chase, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying to find out as much about them as I can.”

“We could watch the show from the wings,” Max suggested. “And once Gran and Harriet’s bits are done we could sneak out and go and search those rooms for you.”

It sounded like a plan and she smiled.“You’ve got yourself a deal, buddy.”

“So how are we going to get inside?” asked Max.

“Let me worry about that. Oh, and do you know where Harriet and Brutus are? I want to ask them to join you. Four cats can snoop around a lot more than two.”

“But Harriet will be on stage,” said Dooley.

“I know, I mean when she’s done performing.”

And then she was off, in search of the other two members of her cat menagerie.

The Mayor might have prevented her from gaining access to four potential witnesses or even suspects, but he didn’t know she had four furry secret weapons at her disposal.

She passed through the hedge that connected her backyard to her parents’, and walked into the kitchen. Mom was preparing dinner, looking a little rattled.

“Have you seen Harriet and Brutus?” she asked. “I need to ask them something.”

“Did you know your grandmother has decided to usurp your father?” asked Mom.

“Usurp Dad? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you remember how she said she wants to be the new Beyonc??”

“How could I forget? Is this about Gran performing at tonight’s event?”

“Your dad was supposed to be the local talent. But your gran has usurped him.”

“I’m sure they’ll both get to do a song. So have you seen Harriet and Brutus?”

“But that’s just it. He’s not going to do a song. Gran has taken his place. And I think this time she’s gone too far. She knows how much your father was looking forward to tonight. First she took over his basement for her own rehearsals, and now she’s taking over his gigs. Soon he will have to call it quits, and that would be a real shame.”

“Why don’t I talk to Gran?”

“Yes, please. Talk some sense into her. Make her realize how much pain she’s caused with this latest stunt. Tex is a good man, and all this nonsense is preying on his mind.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

She moved into the living room, where Gran was watchingJeopardy.

“Have you seen Harriet and Brutus, Gran?” she asked.

“They’re around somewhere,” her grandmother grunted, her eyes fixed on the screen. “What is Belgium!”

“Around where? I’ve been looking all over the place.”

“Aren’t they over at yours? They usually hang around your place around this time. Harriet figures this house is too noisy, and she’s taken a sudden dislike toJeopardy for some reason. No idea why. Best show on TV. Who is Cary Grant!”

Odelia took a seat next to her grandmother.“Gran, I need to talk to you.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Is it true you took over Dad’s gig at tonight’s event?”

“I did no such thing. Can I help it if the Mayor thinks my act is better suited for an event of this magnitude than your dad’s?”

“Did you ask him to bump Dad from the lineup?”

“No, I didn’t. All I did was call Marjorie, who’s in charge of the thing, and ask her what she preferred: three boring old coots singing a boring old jazz song, or a fun new act fronted by an exciting hit sensation. A no-brainer. She practically jumped at the chance.”

“But Gran—you know how much Dad was looking forward to tonight. He and the other doctors have been practicing all week. It was supposed to be his crowning glory.”

“Look, darling, it’s show business, not show charity. You have to be tough to make it in this business, and I’m sorry to say that Tex just ain’t got what it takes.”

“That’s very mean-spirited of you, Gran. I didn’t know you hated Dad so much.”

Gran looked up with a frown.“I don’t hate your father. In fact I kinda like him. In his own goofy way he’s good for Marge, and he’s a good dad. But this is my chance to shine, honey, and it may very well be my last one, too. I’m seventy-five. I might never get to perform in front of this crowd again. This is my shotat the big leagues and I owe it to myself to grab it. For Tex this is just a fun little hobby. For me it’s make-or-break time.”

Odelia shook her head.“Still, it’s a pretty raw deal for Dad.”

“Okay, fine, you’re probably right. You know what I’ll do? I’ll give one of my two slots to Tex. How about that? I’ll go first, and Tex can go next. That all right with you?”

“I thought you gave one of your two slots to Harriet?”

“They can do the interlude.”

Odelia smiled and got up.“Thanks, Gran. I’ll tell Dad right now. He’ll be thrilled.”

“And don’t accuse me of never doing anything for this family!” Gran cried as Odelia left the room. “I’m only making this sacrifice because I care!”

“Thanks!” she yelled, and hurried into the kitchen to tell her mother the good news.

Chapter 20

That evening, the Poole family was out in full force. Gran and her band were due to perform, and so were Tex and his Singing Doctors. As a reporter for theHampton Cove Gazette, Odelia had snagged a much-coveted invitation, and as a plus-one to the talent, Marge was also there.

Odelia had managed to smuggle Dooley and me in via the hotel’s service entrance. No cats or other pets were allowed, not even the pets the stars usually lugged around, like Chihuahuas or pugs or even those potbellied pigs. The only exception to the rule were pets as part of the evening’s entertainment, like Harriet and Brutus, who were now holed up in Gran and Tex’s dressing room. And with them present, Odelia wisely figured we wouldn’t look out of place either. So she’d dropped us off around the corner from the Hampton Cove Star, we’d quickly made our way to the service entrance, and had waited patiently for Odelia to usher us in. Right on schedule the door had opened and Odelia had bundled us both up in her arms and quickly deposited us in Gran’s care.

I was surprised to find that Harriet was now as nervous as Brutus was.“I can’t do this!” she cried, pacing the room. “People are going to laugh at me! They’re going to think this is all a big joke! Oh, Gran, why did you ever agree to this! Why, oh, why!”

Tex was also pacing the room, and didn’t look very relaxed either, nor did the two doctors who were part of his band. Denby Jennsen is a man who could have played a part inGrey’s Anatomy, he’s that movie-star handsome, and Cary Horsfield is as distinguished-looking as Tex. All three were dressed in matching charcoal suits.

Meanwhile, Gran was entertaining her own band, which consisted of half a dozen elderly men, all dressed in white tuxedos. Gran herself looked like a million bucks. Her face was made up, her hair done up, and… she was only wearing white underwear. Lacy bra, lacy panties, silk stockings and even a garter belt. She also wore red stilettos.

“You can do this, twinkle toes,” said Brutus, affectionately patting Harriet’s paw.

“They’ll think we’re a pair of freaks! No cats have ever performed live in front of an audience like this, except to jump through hoops or dangle from a trapeze. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?” She directed a dark look at her mate. “Why didn’t you talk me out of this, Brutus. Why?!”

Dooley and I watched the scene with keen interest. It’s a lot more fun to be in the dressing room before the big show when you’re not an actual part of the lineup.

“I think Harriet will do great,” I said. “Usually when singers are this nervous it’s because they’re about to blow everyone away.”

“Or she will be so bad she can already feel it,” Dooley said.

“That’s also a possibility,” I allowed.

Whatever the case, a bomb or a hit, the show was bound to be a smash. The local doctor, his elderly mother-in-law and their cats? What more could an audience want?

We walked out of the dressing room into the corridor and padded towards the stage. Watching on from the wings, I saw that the ballroom was gradually filling up. I could see the Mayor and his wife, and I could see Dan Goory, Odelia’s editor, who was also a guest. He was there along with his wife, who looked resplendent in a shimmering evening gown. In fact I saw pretty much everyone who was someone in Hampton Cove, as well as plenty of the town’s nobodies. I also recognized Laron Weskit and his wife, whose pictures Odelia had shown us. They were seated at the Mayor’s table—guests of honor.

If we’d wanted to, we could have snuck up to their room right then. But we’d already decided to wait and see the show first. It wasn’t something I was prepared to miss.

And yet for a moment it looked as if that was exactly what was going to happen, when a man dressed like a bellhop grabbed us both by the necks and growled angrily,“How did you two hairy pests get in here?” and started dragging us away!

Lucky for us Odelia was also keeping an eye on the proceedings, and quickly negotiated our release. She then bent down, and placed a nice ribbon around my neck, a small card dangling from it, and repeated the procedure on Dooley.

“There,” she said. “Now no one can accuse you of being interlopers. This makes it clear you’re part of the evening’s entertainment. Oh, and those badges will also grant you access to certain rooms,” she added with a wink. “Don’t lose them, you guys.”

“We sure won’t,” I said, happy we were in the clear.

And then it was time for the show to begin. The lights in the ballroom were dimmed, and with stragglers still filing in, the curtains swung open, and Tex appeared on stage.

“Look, it’s Tex!” Dooley whispered excitedly.

“I know!” I whispered back, equally excited.

Next thing we knew, the band launched into a jazzy rendition ofMy Bonnie Lies over the Ocean, Denby crooning, Tex slapping a drum kit, and Cary plucking at a guitar.

They didn’t even sound half bad. Dr. Denby, apart from looking like George Clooney in hisER heyday, has one of those rich, deep baritones, and a smile that lights up a room. He did so now, and at the end of the song women clapped excitedly, the husbands less so.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Dooley as he put his paws together.

“Not bad at all,” I agreed, following suit. It’s a pity our paws are outfitted with soft pink pads. It hampers our ability to applaud, but we still gave it our best shot for Tex.

Next up were Gran and her six Dapper Dans. She’d draped herself across a piano for some reason, and huskily began to singLike a Virgin. She sounded as if she had a frog in her throat, but maybe that was the style she was going for. The only role the men played was to sing backing vocals (like a vi-i-i-ir-gin) and from time to time lift her off the piano and then to put her back. There was also music playing, probably produced by a tape.

“What is she doing?” asked Dooley after a while.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“And why is she dressed in her underwear?”

“Maybe she forgot to bring her clothes?”

When we’d seen her backstage in her underwear, I’d figured she would put on her dress at the last minute, but now it turned out this was it—this was her stage costume.

The men now placed her back on top of the piano, where she began writhing about, trying to look sexy. Then the men picked her up again and deposited her on the floor, where she proceeded to teeter from the left side of the stage to the right on her high heels, all the while moaning her way through the song, the men darting around her.

“I think it’s supposed to be sexy,” I finally said.

The men had picked Gran up again and tried to heave her onto the piano. Clearly they were all starting to feel the strain, for they ended up dropping her to the floor. So Gran decided to remain where she was while throatily pushing out those final few notes.

There wasn’t even a hint of applause this time. A lot of stunned people sat staring, waiters had stopped waiting, and smartphones were out, filming the weird spectacle.

And they’d seen nothing yet, for as Gran got up and cleared the stage, Harriet and Brutus walked on. Harriet took a slight bow and, much to the consternation of those present, started yowling. I think she was going forLike a Prayer, in line with Gran’s performance, but unfortunately stress must have affected her vocal cords, for all that came out were a series of disjointed notes. Brutus, meanwhile, tried to act like a beatbox, but messed up when he ended up blowing a series of extended raspberries instead.

“I don’t recognize this song,” said Dooley.

“I think it’s Madonna’sLike a Prayer,” I said.

“Oh, right,” said Dooley.

We both winced as Harriet launched into the chorus, and people started pressing their hands against their ears. Never a good sign for a debut artist’s first live show.

She must have realized things weren’t going well, for suddenly she broke off prematurely, and hurriedly left the stage, Brutus still blowing raspberries, as if he’d forgotten where his off-switch was located. Finally he realized he was alone on stage, grinned nervously, and skipped into the wings like a foal on its first foray into the field.

For a moment, all was silent, but then the room plunged into confused talk and chattering. The Mayor looked embarrassed, and the Weskits sat stony-faced. They’d probably anticipated something dignified. With standing. Something along the lines of theAmerican Music Awardsor theGrammy’s. They gotAmerica’s Got Talent instead.

Chapter 21

Behind us, Odelia had materialized. Whether she was shocked or enchanted by the performance of her grandmother and Harriet was impossible to deduce from her expression. She had a sparkle in her eye, though. The sparkle of a reporter who’s just picked up the scent of a great story. To us she merely whispered, “Go, go, go!”

And so go we went.

Odelia had opened a door that led to the hotel’s backstairs and we quickly made our way up until we’d reached the fourth floor. I took a moment to catch my breath, and to our elation we found the door easily yielding to pressure and the hallway empty.

“This is going well, Dooley,” I commented as I looked up and down the hallway. “I don’t think anyone saw us.”

“But what about Harriet and Brutus?” he asked. “Weren’t they supposed to join us?”

“I think they’re probably still recovering from their performance.”

“They didn’t do very well, did they, Max?”

“No, I think it’s safe to say that they didn’t.”

“Probably nerves.”

“’Yeah, it’s a different thing to sing in front of cats than a room full of humans.”

We were traipsing along the hallway, looking left and right as we went, and making sure we weren’t caught. The hallway was easily as nice as the ballroom. Gilded sconces along the walls, gorgeous velvety wallpaper, that nice thick red carpet. Everything for the hotel’s VIP guests. Dooley was announcing the room numbers out loud, both proving he could count and making sure we didn’t skippast our destination, and finally we’d reached the Weskits’ room. I glanced up at the door handle, which was way higher than I’d anticipated, and sighed.

“I don’t know about you, Dooley, but I can’t possibly jump that high.”

“Do you want me to give it a try?” And without waiting for my response, he performed a nice standing high jump. He reached about halfway to the handle, which was outfitted with one of those panels you hold your badge against for easy access.

“Close but no cigar,” I told him encouragingly.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I don’t smoke.” He made a second attempt, but reached even less high than before. Cats are great jumpers, but we’re not rabbits or kangaroos.

I listened carefully for that telltale clicking sound that indicates the badge has done what it’s supposed to do but no luck so far. No clicking sound and no access for us.

“Can’t you hover in the air a little longer?” I asked. “I think the little gizmo needs time to figure out a badge is near. And try to hold up the badge. Hold it as high as you can.”

So Dooley kept on jumping, trying to hold up the badge with his paws. If the selection committee for the Olympic Games had seen him, they’d definitely have given him points for effort. Unfortunately even cats as fit and healthy as Dooley reach the end of their tether, and as Dooley sat on the floor, panting heavily, the door was still as closed as ever.

And as Dooley got some air into his lungs, I spotted a cart at the end of the hallway. It was one of those carts used by room service people, and I could spot a couple of empty glasses on top of it, as well as a bucket with a champagne bottle peeping out at the top.“Maybe we could roll that cart over here and jump on top of it?” I now suggested.

“Good… (pant pant) idea… (pant pant) Max. Let’s… (pant pant) give… (pant pant) it… (pant pant) a shot (closing pant).”

So we gamboled along the corridor—that is to say, I gamboled and Dooley dragged his weary body along as fast as he could—and when we reached the cart I saw that, indeed, it was equipped with nifty little wheels. So we both pushed, and soon the cart was rolling along nicely at a brisk pace. Unfortunately I think we must have put a little too much push into the thing, or maybe the carpet wasn’t as thick and plush as I’d anticipated, for we overshot the room and still the cart kept on zipping along. It proceeded to pick up speed, until it slammed against the wall at the end. For a moment, bucket and glasses waggled precariously, then, like lemmings, collectively made the jump. The first glass was fine, but when the second one fell on top of it, it gave up the fight and broke, and so did the third, and the fourth, and when the bucket tipped over and dropped down on top of all of them, it crushed what remained of the glassware.

“I’m not going near that,” announced Dooley.

This may be a good time to remind you that cats do not wear shoes. So we try to steer clear of sharp objects on the floor, be they glass or other items that cut our tender paws.

To my elation I immediately spotted a second cart. So we decided to repeat the procedure, only this time Dooley pushed and I walked in front of the cart to provide a measure of stoppage. We managed to maneuver the cart where it needed to be. Dooley made one final jump, and landed squarely on top of the cart, held out his badge, and there was that delicious, much-sought-after clicking sound: open Sesame!

Once inside, we quickly spread out. I headed into the kitchen, hoping the Weskits had pets and had left the pet food out, and Dooley moved into the bedroom for a brief nap.

I quickly discovered that the Weskits did not have pets, and the only food I could find in the kitchen was leftover pizza. I’m not choosy when I’m hungry, though, so I took a tentative bite. And as I digested this first nibble, I decided the pizza was fit for feline consumption and quickly devoured a large slice, leaving a smaller slice for Dooley. Feeling fortified, I went in search of that all-telling clue that Odelia had mentioned. She had no idea what it might look like, but had assured us that if we found it, we’d recognize it for what it was: The One Clue That Rules All Other Clues (or TOCTRAOC).

And I’d just wended my way in the general direction of the bedroom to see what Dooley was up to, when I was startled to come across two large eyes glowing in the dark, staring back at me. I immediately recognized them as belonging to the Felis catus species.

In other words, the Weskits did have a pet, and that pet was a cat.

Chapter 22

Odelia, along with her mom, Uncle Alec and Chase, sat one table removed from the Mayor’s table, so she was able to keep a close eye on the Weskits, Laron and Shannon. So far the couple hadn’t moved from their seats, so Max and Dooley were in the clear.

“That was terrible,” said her mother as she distractedly picked from a cheese platter.

“I thought Dad was pretty good. Not exactly his crowd, but still a solid performance.”

“Your dad was fantastic, but your grandmother!” Marge shook her head. “What was she thinking!”

Odelia grinned.“It was a little weird. She was probably thinking she was fifty years younger.”

“I should have stayed for rehearsals. I would never have allowed her on stage dressed like that.”

“To be fair, Marge,” said Uncle Alec as he swirled the remnants of a nice burgundy in his glass, “even if you’d told her not to perform she’d gone ahead and done it anyway.”

“I know, Alec—she never listens to anyone, that’s the problem. And that poor Harriet and Brutus. What an awful, humiliating spectacle. Where are they, anyway?”

Odelia leaned in and whispered into her mom’s ear, “They’re upstairs, checking out Charlie and Jamie’s room, while Max and Dooley are going through the Weskits’ stuff.”

“Well, I hope they find something.”

“And I hope they don’t get caught,” said Chase, who looked worried.

“They won’t get caught, and even if they are, hotel staff will simply throw them out.”

“What are you hoping they’ll find?” asked Uncle Alec, accepting a refill from a waiter.

“Anything, something. I don’t know. It’s frustrating not being able to interview them.”

“Tomorrow,” said the Chief. “Tomorrow we can interview them all we want.”

“And do you seriously expect them to stick around for us to do that? I’ll bet their flights are booked and they’ll be gone at first light.”

“Possibly, but that would simply make them more suspect. And wherever they go, there’s police there, too, and a simple request from me will see them interrogated.”

“Still, I feel more relaxed knowing our cats are going through their things with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Or a fine-claw paw,” Chase quipped.

Just then, Gran joined them at their table, accompanied by Tex. A scarlet blush mantled Gran’s cheeks, but at least she’d covered up her Madonna-style lingerie.

“And?” Gran asked as she took a seat. “What did you think of the show?”

Chase murmured something noncommittal, while Uncle Alec stared at the ceiling.

“It was terrible!” Marge cried, unable to restrain herself. “What the hell were you thinking? You turned us into the town’s laughingstock! How am I ever going to face people now? And have you considered Alec’s reputation? Or Tex’s? Or Odelia’s?”

The corners of Gran’s lips dropped. “Is that a way to encourage the only star in your family? I’ll have you know I got a lot of compliments backstage. Charlie Dieber knocked on my dressing room door and personally told me how rad he thought I was.”

“He was watching?” asked Odelia.

“Of course. Charlie, Jamie, they both watched from the wings. And now that I’ve got some buzz going, I just know I’ll be able to take this thing into the stratosphere.”

“Do you honestly think your performance was good?” asked Marge. “You sang completely out of tune, you looked like a hoary harlot, and those men! They should be ashamed of themselves, the way they behaved—salivating over you like… like… johns!”

“That’s the difference between a star and a nobody like you, Marge,” Gran snapped. “A star is out there, shining brightly, while ordinary people like you only excel at petty jealousy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mingle and stoke up some more buzz.”

“Mingle!” Marge cried as Gran walked away. “You should apologize to the Mayor!”

“Oh, just leave her be,” said Alec. “I think it’s nice she has a hobby. Keeps her out of trouble.”

“God,” said Marge, and plunked her head against the table, upsetting the tableware.

“Oh, honey,” said Tex, rubbing her between the shoulder blades. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Marge lifted her head.“Do you really believe what she said about Charlie Dieber complimenting her on being ‘rad?’”

“Yeah, that actually happened. I was right there when he told her.”

“The world has gone stark-raving mad,” Marge groaned, and thunked her head again.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” said Jerry as Johnny closed the door of the car. They darted across the road and immediately disappeared into the alley next to the hotel.

“Do you think this bag is big enough, Jer?” asked Johnny, showing Jerry a ginormous gym bag.

“I like it when you think big, Johnny,” said Jerry with a grin.

“I hope they’ve got Rolexes,” said Johnny, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning. “If they got some nice Rolexes I might grab one for me. I’ve always liked Rolexes.”

“Once we pull this off, you can have all the Rolexes in the world,” said Jerry, who was also in buoyant mood. It was the adrenaline, and the excitement of a job well-planned and about to be well-executed. He never got tired of that zippy sensation.

“I just hope there’s no security,” said Johnny, returning to his favorite theme.

“I told you a million times already, Johnny. All the bodyguards will be downstairs with the people they’re supposed to be guarding with their bodies, not upstairs.”

“And I hope they didn’t use the hotel safe. I hate it when they do that. So unfair. But even if they did, I’m going to crack that safe, Jer. I’m gonna crack it open like a coconut.”

“That’s the spirit, Johnny,” said Jerry. “That’s that will to win right there.”

They’d arrived at the fire escape and now climbed the metal stairs to the fourth floor, where the rooms of the Weskits and that twerp pop singer and his girl were located.

“First the Weskits,” Jerry said.

“And then the twerp,” Johnny cheerfully sang.

It took Johnny only a couple of seconds of fiddling with the lock to open the fire exit door and then they were in. They jogged along the corridor in search of the Weskits’ room and once they’d found it, it was only a few moments before that lock too, yielded to the power of Johnny’s toolkit and experience. They quickly burst in and closed the door.

“Let’s do this!” Jerry whispered.

“Hallelujah!” Johnny yodeled.

Chapter 23

“Trespassers,” said the eyes that glowed in the dark. Or at least the creature to whom the eyes belonged. As a rule, eyes rarely burst into speech.

“No, visitors,” I corrected the feline. “Friendly visitors that come in peace.”

The cat was silent for a brief moment, then finally emerged from the shadows so I could see it whole. It was one of those hairless cats—the ones without any fur—and for a moment I couldn’t help but stare at it. Next to me, Dooley had also materialized, attracted by the voices, and was gripped by the same sudden fascination with this rare creature, for the cat grunted, “Cat got your tongue? Never seen a hairless cat before?”

“Um, as a matter of fact I haven’t,” I confessed. “This is a first for me.”

“Oh, you poor cat,” said Dooley, perhaps not striking the right tone. “Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” the cat growled, its eyes narrowing dangerously.

“When they shaved you. It must have hurt. What did they use? A razor blade or an electric razor? And who did it? Your humans or a professional? A professional, probably. At one of those pet salons. I don’t see any shaving nicks. When Chase shaves in the morning he always manages to cut himself.Odelia’s told him several times he should use an electric razor but he insists they don’t produce the same smooth finish as his trusty Gillette. To each their own, I guess, though I think Odelia’s right, to be honest—you’re probably wondering who Odelia is. She’s our human, and she would never, ever shave us. Except if we asked her, of course, which we never will. Which isn’t to say I don’t approve of your personal life choice, sir or ma’am. Like I said, to each their own.”

The cat was producing a low growling sound at the back of its throat, and I quickly nudged Dooley in the ribs.“You’re blabbing, Dooley. Maybe now is a good time to zip it.” I understood where he was coming from, of course. Seeing your first hairless cat in the flesh, so to speak, tends to produce a bit of a shock. That certainly was my experience.

“First of all, nobody shaves me,” said the cat now. “Secondly, this is what I’ve always looked like. I don’t have the advantage of fur, which is why I would prefer it if you didn’t make any cracks about it. Now back to my question: why are you trespassing?”

“Like I said, we’re not trespassing,” I said. “Well, technically perhaps we are, but it’s for a good cause. You see, a, um, good friend of our humans died this morning—she was murdered, in fact—and now we’re trying to figure out who could have done that to her.”

Dooley was still eyeing the cat with undiminished fascination. “Can I…” He approached the cat. “Can I touch it?”

“It? I’m a person, not a thing,” said the cat icily.

“I know, but I’ve never seen a cat like you. What’s your name? Are you a he or a she?”

“My name is Cleo,” said the cat, giving Dooley a nasty look, “and I’m a female, can’t you tell?”

“Well, no, actually I can’t,” said Dooley. “You look like no cat I’ve ever seen. Does she look like any cat you’ve ever seen, Max?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter, Dooley,” I said, “and frankly I think you’re getting on Cleo’s nerves, so let’s just tone it down a little, shall we?”

“No, I like his candor,” said Cleo. “Most cats I meet act very snootily, figuring they need to make a big impression on me or something. So I find your honesty refreshing, cat. What are your names, by the way?”

“Dooley,” said Dooley, “and this is my best friend Max.”

“Well, nice to make your acquaintance, Dooley and Max,” said Cleo, losing some of her earlier frostiness. “So this person who got killed, what’s their name?”

“Chickie Hay,” I said. “We’re trying to find out who killed her and why.”

“Chickie is dead? Oh, that’s such a pity. My humans really liked her, and so did those next door.”

“Charlie Dieber and Jamie Borowiak,” I said, nodding.

“Wait, I thought your humans hated Chickie Hay?” said Dooley.

“Yeah, that’s the information we got,” I said.

“Not true. There was bad blood between them, sure, but that was all business related. As a person they liked her and admired her for the career she built. I liked her, too. Nice songs. Though to be honest I’m more of a jazz cat myself.”

“Then you’ll like our human’s dad,” said Dooley. “He’s a musician and he plays jazz.”

“What kind of jazz?” asked Cleo, her interest piqued.

“Um…” I stared at Dooley and Dooley stared at me. “No idea, actually,” I said.

“Big band, bebop, contemporary, free jazz, ragtime, Latin jazz?”

“Is that all… music?” asked Dooley.

“Types of jazz music, yeah.”

“How come you know so much about this stuff?” I asked.

“That’s what you get when you live with a true music fan,” said Cleo with a deferential little smile.

“Laron likes jazz?” I asked.

“Loves jazz. He plays a little jazz himself. So what kind of music are you guys into?”

But unfortunately—or fortunately—our musical preference would remain a secret to Cleo, for the door to the room had suddenly opened and two men walked in. One was big and burly and the other thin and scrawny and as they stood illuminated against the backdrop of the hallway lights, I thought for a moment I’d seen them both before.

“Hey, I think I’ve seen these guys before,” Dooley said, confirming my suspicions.

Then again, in our line of work you meet so many people it’s hard to keep track.

“More intruders,” said Cleo with a sad shake of the head.

“Maybe they’re visitors, like us,” said Dooley as he watched the men close the door and enter the room. They were both carrying big empty gym bags.

“Doubtful,” said Cleo. “They look like a bunch of crooks to me, and trust me, I know the difference. If humans are as rich as mine, a lot of people want to share in that wealth, usually without asking permission first.”

“I’ll look in here,” said the skinny one. “You try the bedroom. And focus on high-value items only, Johnny. I’ll bet these rich bozos got plenty of gold and jewels lying around.”

“Isn’t that rappers, though, Jer?” asked the one named Johnny. “Rappers like gold.”

“Rappers, pop stars, who cares? They all love jewels and so do we.”

“Gotcha, Jer,” said Johnny, and started rifling through one of the cabinets.

“Looks like you’re right, Cleo,” I said. “I think these men are here to steal from your human.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“So what do we do now? We probably shouldn’t let this happen, right?”

“No, we shouldn’t. Lucky for us the hotel has taken precautions for this type of contingency.” And with a deft trot she stalked over to the door, and placed her paw against what looked like a small metal plate. Moments later a deadbolt was shoved home in the door, something clattered down in front of the windows, and the room was suddenly flooded with pulsating red light, accompanied by a loud wailing siren.

The crook named Jerry cursed loudly and started pulling at the door, which wouldn’t budge, then ran over to a connecting door, which offered the same resistance, and finally tried the window, only to discover that a steel shutter had slammed down to seal it off. There was no escape. He then resorted to pulling at his own hair. “Not again!” he cried.

“I think we’re busted, Jer,” said Johnny, stomping in from the bedroom.

“I know we’re busted, you idiot! Someone must have tripped the alarm!”

“You didn’t tell me about no alarm, Jer.”

“That’s because nobody toldme about no danged alarm!”

“So what do we do now, Jerry?”

“Now we wait for the cops to show up.”

“But I don’t want to wait for the cops to show up, Jerry! The cops will arrest us, and I don’t want to be arrested.”

“Stay calm, Johnny!” yelled Jerry, not exactly the epitome of tranquility himself. “And when they arrive simply follow my lead. Tell ‘em you thought this was our room.”

“Maybe we should tell ‘em the truth.”

“No, Johnny.Don’t you dare.Repeat after me: I thought this was my room.”

“Do you think they’ll believe us?”

“Of course they’ll believe us! We just have to stick to our story, no matter what.”

Johnny was sweating profusely now.“I’m a lousy liar, Jer. You know I am.”

“Don’t you dare tell them the truth, Johnny. Just do as I say and we’ll be all right.”

“Okay, Jer. We show them the key and tell ‘em we accidentally got the wrong room.”

“Don’t show them the key!”

“Why not?”

“Because then they’ll know we got an accomplice!”

“You mean the same accomplice who forgot to mention the alarm?”

“Just stick to the story and we’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know, Jer.”

“Stick to the story!”

“They don’t appear to be the smartest crooks in the business,” said Cleo.

“Max! I think I know these guys,” suddenly said Dooley. “Aren’t they the same ones who tried to rob Odelia? And then you and me told Chase and Chase arrested them?”

“Hey, I think you’re right, Dooley.”

Moments later, the alarm stopped whining, and the door opened. The first one to burst through was Chase, quickly followed by Uncle Alec. Chase was holding up a gun.“Hands behind your heads! On your knees!” he yelled, and Johnny and Jerry promptly did as they were told.

“I thought this was my room!” Johnny cried, eyes wide as he took in that big gun and the even bigger cop handling it.

“We must have gotten the floors mixed,” Jerry said, producing a strained smile.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale. So we meet again.”

“Hi, Detective Kingsley,” said Johnny sheepishly. “You’re not going to arrest us, are you? I really thought this was our room,” he added like a well-trained parrot.

“So where’s your key?” asked Uncle Alec.

Johnny produced his key card, drawing a low hissing sound from his partner in crime. Uncle Alec took the card and studied it.“So who’s your accomplice?”

Jerry and Johnny shared a look.“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chief,” said Jerry. “We’re guests at this hotel and we thought this was our room. Can we help it if all these rooms look the same?” He laughed, but it sounded more like a horse neighing.

“Yeah, can we help it if all the rooms in this hotel look the same?” asked Johnny, actually perking up now that he figured their ruse was working.

“This is a very special key card,” said Uncle Alec, waving the card. “It’s called a master key. It allows access to all the rooms in the building. Only hotel personnel carry these. So how did you get hold of it?”

“Receptionist must have made a mistake,” said Jerry with a shrug.

“Yeah, the receptionist gave us this key,” said Johnny, lifting his massive shoulders.

“Why are you both dressed in black, with rubber-soled shoes and rubber gloves?” asked Chase.

“We like to dress in black,” said Jerry. “And we’re both germophobic.”

“Yeah, we don’t like Germans,” said Johnny with a quick glance at Jerry.

Uncle Alec had crouched down next to the gym bags and was rummaging through them. He brought out a flashlight, a drill, a hammer, a chisel, a Swiss knife, and a box full of weird-looking metal instruments.“And I’ll bet this is your luggage,” he said grimly.

“We’re like the Boy Scouts of America,” Jerry declared solemnly. “Always prepared.”

“Yeah, we take that stuff everywhere we go,” said Johnny. “You never know when you might need a hammer, or a pair of pliers.”

“Look, I’ll make you a deal,” said Uncle Alec, getting up. “If you give us the name of your accomplice I’ll talk to the judge. Tell him you cooperated like two nice crooks. If not, I’ll throw the book at you, and you’re looking at extended jail time. So what do you say?”

Jerry was already shaking his head, but Johnny’s eyebrows had shot up and he had a mournful expression on his face. It was the expression of a man about to spill his guts.

“No, Johnny,” said Jerry, who’d noticed the same thing. “Don’t you do it.”

“But, Jerry. I don’t want to go back to prison.”

“No. Don’t you do it, Johnny. Don’t you dare.”

“His name is Camillo Equius,” Johnny suddenly blurted out. “He told us Laron Weskit and his wife were staying here tonight, and that Dieber kid, and he gave us the key.”

“Thanks, Johnny. You know the drill,” Uncle Alec said as he unclipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “You’re both under arrest. Anything you say—”

“Johnny, you idiot!” said Jerry. “I told you to keep your big mouth shut!”

“I’m sorry, Jer. But he made us a deal I couldn’t refuse!”

“I’m never working with you again. You hear me! This partnership is over!”

“It’s all for the best, Jer,” said Johnny as both men were led out by Chase. “The Chief is a good man. He’ll keep up his end of the bargain. I know he will. Isn’t that right, Chief?”

“Never! I’m never working with you again! Never, never, never!”

Laron Weskit and his wife, who apparently had been waiting right outside, now entered the room.“So?” said Laron. “What did they take?”

“Nothing,” said Uncle Alec. “We got here just in time.”

“I don’t get it,” said Laron, planting his hands on his hips. “I didn’t switch on the alarm, because Cleo is here and she might accidentally trip it.”

“I think Cleo is the one who tripped it, sir,” said Alec, gesturing to the hairless cat.

Laron’s eyebrows shot up. “My cat tripped the alarm? That’s impossible.”

“You’d be surprised how clever cats can be, sir,” said Uncle Alec as he gave me and Dooley a wink.

I tried to wink back but found it a little hard. It’s one of those things you have to practice first.

Shannon Weskit bent over and picked Cleo up in her arms.“Did you save us, Cleo, darling? Did you? You’re a regular hero, aren’t you? You’re a real wonder cat.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Laron, shaking his head. “There has to be some other explanation. Cats don’t trigger alarms. That’s dogs.”

“Cats are smart,” said his wife, who obviously was more of a cat person than her husband.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Laron, and started doing the rounds of the suite to see for himself if nothing had been taken.

Just then, the connecting door flew open and Charlie Dieber and Jamie burst in.“Did they take anything?” asked Charlie anxiously.

“Not that I can see,” said Laron.

“Cleo sounded the alarm,” said Shannon. “Isn’t she a clever little puss? Yes, you are, Cleo. Yes, you are.”

“So weird,” said Charlie, who looked like a teenager, but a teenager with tattoos running up and down his arms. “There’s two cats in our room that weren’t there before. And I have no idea how they got there.”

And as if to lend credence to his words, Harriet and Brutus walked in!

“Hey, isn’t that the cats that sang at the show?” asked Jamie, a petite young woman with long dark hair and a serious look on her face.

“They sure look like them,” said Laron.

“But how did they get into our room?” asked Charlie.

“Maybe they’re with the burglars,” said Jamie.

Just then, Laron’s eyes fell on Dooley and me. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said as he scratched his head. “Look. More cats. Where did they come from?”

Oops. Busted!

Chapter 24

A family meeting had been called and we were part of the agenda.

“Odelia doesn’t look happy,” said Dooley.

“No, she doesn’t look happy at all,” Brutus agreed.

We were in the living room of Marge and Tex’s home, and all the humans had gathered for this occasion: Uncle Alec was there, and Chase, and Odelia, of course, and Marge and Tex and Gran. The feline members of the family had been relegated to the floor, where we now sat like four defendants about to be subjected to cross-examination.

“Maybe we need to ask for a lawyer,” said Dooley.

He was right, and I was already looking around for the Bible on which we’d soon have to swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

“We didn’t even have time to go through that room,” said Harriet. “The moment we got in, this loud alarm started blaring, and soon after, Charlie and Jamie burst in.”

“How did you get into their room?” I asked.

“Odelia had given us key cards,” said Brutus.

“Same thing here,” I said. “Very clever, too.”

“Very clever, if only those crooks hadn’t chosen that exact moment to break in.”

“Okay, let’s begin,” said Uncle Alec. “First off, Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale are back where they belong: in jail. Johnny cracked first, and confessed. We also arrested Camillo Aquius, one of the receptionists and apparently in cahoots with the crooks, in exchange for a percentage of the loot, who provided them with information and a master key.”

“What they hadn’t counted on was the presence of Cleo,” said Chase. “Who managed to sound the alarm, and make sure a happy ending was had by all.”

Except Johnny and Jerry, obviously.

“Speaking of happy endings, did you guys manage to find out anything?” asked Odelia. She’d directed these words at us, and they were definitely better than ‘Do you have anything to say for yourselves?’

I cleared my throat.“According to Cleo, Laron and his wife respected Chickie a lot, and thought she was an amazing and talented person. They had some business disagreements but that wasn’t all that important, at least according to her. All in all, she gave me the impression that Laron would never harm a hair on Chickie’s head.”

“What is he saying?” asked Chase with a smile.

Odelia quickly translated my words for the non-feline speakers in the room, and Uncle Alec nodded.“It doesn’t mean much, but at least it says something about motive.”

“So where are we on the investigation?” asked Odelia, directing a quizzical look at her uncle and boyfriend.

“Nowhere, that’s where we are,” said Uncle Alec.

“Plenty of suspects but nothing conclusive,” Chase agreed.

“So we need to keep digging,” said Odelia. “We need to keep talking to people, asking all the right questions.”

“I talked to the Mayor at the party tonight,” said Uncle Alec, “and he said that if we don’t crack this case soon, he’ll be compelled to bring in the state police.”

“Who’ll take over the investigation and sink our reputations,” Chase said somberly.

“State police or not, I’m not going to stop digging until I find something,” said Odelia.

All eyes suddenly turned to us, and Brutus muttered,“This is it. Get ready for a kicking, you guys.”

But instead of a kicking, Odelia gave us a heartfelt smile.“I think it’s fair to say that the only ones who’ve managed to get anywhere in this case are Max, Dooley, Brutus and Harriet. You’ve figured out the best clues, and you’ve talked to the only witnesses who were actually able to tell you something. In fact I would love to suggest to the Mayor not to call in the state police but to deputize the four of you instead.”

Marge laughed.“I’d love to be there when you have that conversation.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Uncle Alec, who didn’t seem overly excited at the prospect of welcoming four cats into his squad.

“I’m just kidding, of course,” said Odelia, “though not about your achievements. So I would like to thank you, and I would like to tell you to keep up the good work.” And then she turned to her grandmother. “And now for the real reason we are all gathered here. Gran, I think it’s timeyou and Dad buried the hatchet. You’ve been at each other’s throats for too long and it’s starting to affect the way the community views this family.”

“They think we’re all nuts,” said Marge. “We’re the laughingstock of this town.”

“I think that’s an excellent suggestion,” said Gran. “And I’m very happy that you’ve finally decided to apologize, Tex.” A set look had come over her face. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I, um…” said Tex.

“It isn’t Tex who should apologize,” said Marge. “First you walk out on him and leave him to deal with his patients all by himself, then you fail to live up to your promise to support his new band. And to add insult to injury you made fools of us all by gyrating across the stage dressed in your underwear and looking like an idiot. So I think you owe us all an apology. Not just Tex. Your whole family. We’re all affected by your nonsense.”

Harsh words, but maybe Gran deserved them. She clearly hadn’t expected it, though, for her face displayed a distinctly mutinous look. “Are you nuts? I’m the only one in this family who’s trying to build a career. To make something of themselves. I’m doing you proud. So you should be thanking me, instead of criticizing me.”

“Your performance was terrible, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “Crawling over that stage in that outfit, with those old fools drooling all over you. I think I speak for all of us when I tell you that you crossed a line tonight. A line that should never have been crossed.”

“I crossed a line? Well, if that’s how you feel,” said Gran, pressing her lips together. “I’ll have you know that I talked to Laron after the show, and he offered me a contract.”

They all stared at the old lady.“Wait, what?” asked Marge, looking shocked.

“And I said yes! Charlie wants me—oh, that kid wants me bad. Asked me to record a duet as soon as possible and wants me to feature in his next video. Laron said it’ll probably be the biggest thing that hit the music business since sliced bread.”

“I don’t think sliced bread was ever part of the music industry,” said Marge.

“Who cares? I’m going to be as big as Charlie, maybe even bigger! So how about them apples, huh?”

The others all exchanged worried glances, but Gran had already gotten up.

“You know what? I’m glad we had this little talk. I’m actually happy you finally came out and told me what you really think of me. You don’t want me to be part of this family anymore? Good! I’m a disgrace to the Poole family name? Great! I’ve decided to change my name to Granny B, and I’m leaving this gang of rainers-on-parades for good. So consider this my resignation from this family. Goodbye and good riddance.” And with these words, she stalked over to the door. Before she walked out, she turned and said, “And don’t come crying to me when you’re broke and miserable and I’m a multi-millionaire superstar with my own mansion in Calabasas, Cal. I won’t pick up the phone!”

And then she was gone, slamming the door in the process.

Chapter 25

Marge was staring out the kitchen window when Odelia walked up behind her. She put her hands on her mom’s shoulders. “She’ll be back,” she said. “You know how she is. She gets these crazy ideas but before long she gets bored and then she’ll come running.”

“I don’t know, Odelia,” said Marge. “This time I have a feeling she might be gone for good. She’s always had a thing for the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, and if this thing with Charlie Dieber works out she might move to the West Coast and never come back.” She shook her head. “I was too hard on her. We were all too hard on her.”

“But her performance was terrible. I thought a dose of reality would do her good.”

Marge turned.“Your grandmother has never dealt with reality very well. And if this is her chance to escape reality once and for all, she’ll grab it with both hands. Remember when she claimed to have been married to the most fascinating man in the world?”

“Yeah, but that fell through. And this will also fall through, and then she’ll be back.”

Marge returned to gazing out the window.“I’ve known your grandmother a lot longer than you have, and if there’s one trait that’s more dominant than all others, it’s her stubbornness. That woman can be so mulish she’ll drive you crazy.”

“That means she’ll drive Charlie Dieber crazy, and that Laron Weskit guy.” Odelia gently massaged her mom’s shoulders. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll soon realize all the fame and glory in the world can never really replace a loving family. Plus, she’ll miss her cats.”

“Let’s hope so. I’d hate to be the one to have driven your grandmother away.”

Odelia returned to the living room, where her dad was watchingJeopardy.“Missing Gran already?” she asked as she took a seat beside him.

“Well, don’t laugh but actually I do. That woman drives me nuts sometimes, but she also brings a lot of life into this household.”

“She does, doesn’t she?”

“I’m recordingJeopardy, by the way. And her favorite soaps. So when she comes back she can catch up. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“So you also think she’ll be back soon?”

“Of course. This is her home, her family. I don’t believe for a second she’d be willing to throw it all away to make a career as a pop star.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Odelia, who was feeling a lot less sure already.

“So is it true the same goons that burgled your house tried to burgle the Hampton Cove Star?”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think Johnny and Jerry are not exactly the best burglars in the world. They keep getting caught, which is probably not how a good burglary should go.”

“Well, as long as they’re in jail, they won’t be able to burgle anyone else.”

“So how are you coping at the office? Don’t you want to replace Gran? At least until she’s back?” She knew how unreliable Gran could be when performing her duties as Dad’s receptionist, and had often advised him to hire a regular receptionist. One he could count on. But Dad always said heliked Vesta sitting in that outer office, and scaring the hypochondriacs away. At least with her grumpy face there to greet them, only the patients who really needed a doctor managed to stick it out and stick around.

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey, I’ll manage,” he said, affectionately patting his daughter’s knee. “I tried to hire someone else, remember? That didn’t work out too well, either.”

“That’s because you managed to hire the one person in Hampton Cove whom Gran hates even more than anyone else.”

Dad had hired Scarlett Canyon for a while, Gran’s mortal enemy, and that hadn’t sat well with Gran at all. It also hadn’t lasted. Before long, Gran had been back at the helm.

“Maybe I should call Vesta?” Tex suggested. “Ask her to reconsider?”

“I think it’s best to leave her to stew in her own juices for a while. It’s too soon to start begging her to come back. Besides, if you do that she’ll be even more intolerable than usual. Best to wait a while, and let her realize she made a big mistake for herself.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said her father. “You seem to know Vesta better than anyone.”

Returning to her own home, she saw that her cats were all seated on the deck, holding some kind of meeting.

“Hey, you guys,” she said, taking a seat next to them. “Everything all right?”

“I don’t know, Odelia,” said Max, usually the cats’ spokesperson. “We just feel we could have done so much more, if only those silly crooks hadn’t interfered.”

“Yeah, we’re thinking about giving it another shot,” said Harriet. “Return to the hotel and give those rooms another once-over.”

“We never got the chance to search them properly,” Brutus agreed.

“And maybe this time the rooms won’t be burgled,” said Dooley. “Unless that’s a regular thing at the Hampton Cove Star.”

Odelia laughed.“I don’t think it’s a regular thing, Dooley. But I also don’t think it’s a good idea to go back there now. The Weskits and Charlie will be in their rooms, and they’ll notice the addition of four cats to their household. Besides, you had that chat with Cleo, didn’t you? And she told you how she feels about Laron Weskit’s involvement.”

“Still, we’ve only scratched the surface,” said Max.

“Yeah, we let you down, Odelia,” said Harriet. “First with that silly show we gave, and then with that half-assed search. We haven’t given you our best yet in this investigation, and we really want to make it up to you somehow.”

She thought about that.“I’m not sure what else you can do. You’ve talked to Chickie’s pets, you’ve talked to Laron Weskit’s cat, I don’t think there’s a lot more you can do at this point.” Nor, she felt, could she. She felt oddly stymied in this investigation. As if she was going around in circles and getting nowhere fast. And now this latest drama with Gran on top of everything else. She was losing her touch, and the fact that her cats had struck out only added to her general feeling of malaise.

“Let’s not think about it anymore tonight,” she said. “Let’s all have a good night’s sleep and I’m sure in the morning fresh ideas will come to us.”

She got up, and headed into the house. Chase was cooking, which she found adorable. His specialty was spaghetti bolognese, though he was really outdoing himself now by going for a nice creamy lasagna.“Is it true that cats love lasagna?” he asked as he admired his own creation, then placed it in the oven.

“No, I think that’s just a myth created by Jim Davis.”

“Jim Davis?”

“The creator of Garfield.”

“Okay. Well, I made extra, so if Max or the others fancy lasagna, there’s plenty.”

She took a seat on one of the high kitchen stools.“Do you think I’m losing my touch?”

“Losing your touch?” He walked around the kitchen counter and held out his hands. “Come here.” They hugged and kissed, and she found him looking at her as if she were the dish of lasagna. “Um, no. In my expert opinion you haven’t lost your touch, babe.”

When she slapped him lightly on the chest, he laughed heartily.

“You know what I mean. I just feel I’m not getting anywhere with this investigation. As if I’m flailing around with no idea what the heck I’m doing.”

“It’s still early days. It could take weeks to figure out what exactly happened this morning. I’m going back there tomorrow first thing and have another chat with Tyson. I asked him to collect all the CCTV footage shot since last night, through the morning, and I’m going to watch it to see if there’s any red flags. Maybe you can join me?”

“Watch security footage all day? No, thank you. I’d prefer to finally go and talk to Laron Weskit and the others.”

“Oh, hasn’t your uncle told you? The Mayor has extended his embargo. There will be no interviews of the Weskits or Dieber and Jamie for at least another day.”

“What? But he can’t do that!” She’d slipped off her stool and threw up her hands in dismay. “They’re important witnesses in a murder inquiry. Doesn’t that take precedence over the Mayor’s political games?”

“He argued they’ve been through enough, what with the burglary and all, and doesn’t want them ‘badgered’ by the police—his words, not mine. He says that he talked to Laron about the whole Chickie thing and Laron assured him he’s got nothing to do with that, and that he and his wife are as shocked and devastated as everyone else.”

“Applesauce! Theyhave to talk to the police.”

“And sooner or later they will,” Chase assured her. “They’re not off the hook, Odelia.”

“Yeah, but who knows what evidence they’ve been able to make disappear. Plus, they’ve had ample time to coordinate their stories, so whatever they’ll tell you and Uncle Alec will just be the rehearsed story they want you to believe. The story they probably concocted with their legal team, to stay out of trouble as much as possible.”

“Alec told me to back off. He doesn’t want to go against the Mayor’s wishes.”

“God, this is making me sick.”

“Listen,” said Chase, placing plates and cutlery on placemats. “Vesta is working with Laron and his team now, right? Can’t you ask her to snoop around? Ask some questions?”

Odelia stared at her boyfriend.“That’s brilliant!”

“Hey, I have my moments,” said Chase with a grin.

But then Odelia’s face fell. “I’ll bet Gran won’t talk to me, though. She’s very upset.”

“And I’ll bet she will. You know what she’s like. When it comes down to it, it’s family first, always. And if she won’t talk to you, for whatever silly reason, I’ll have a crack at her. She’s always liked me.”

Odelia smiled.“I dare you to call Gran and to recruit her as a police spy inside Laron Weskit’s operation.”

“You’re on,” said Chase, and took out his phone. Moments later Gran picked up.

“Oh, hey, Vesta,” said Chase, giving Odelia a wink. “I wanna ask you a big favor.”

Chapter 26

We still strongly felt as if we’d let Odelia down. So the four of us agreed to return to the hotel as soon as the house was quiet, and see if we couldn’t have another look at those hotel rooms.

“Odelia is counting on us,” said Dooley.

“Yes, she is,” Brutus agreed. “But she’s simply too nice to tell us how she really feels. How we all let her down terribly.”

“I think we owe it to her to give it another shot,” said Harriet.

We were all in agreement. And so it was decided. The moment Odelia and Chase were sound asleep we all snuck out of the house and set paw for downtown Hampton Cove, where the Hampton Cove Star awaited. Unfortunately Odelia had retrieved the keycards she’d given us, so we wouldn’t be able to use them to get in. But we’re cats. Somehow or other we always manage to get where we need to be.

So we trudged along the sidewalk, the hour long past midnight, and soon found ourselves in the heart of town. Across the street from the Star is Kingman’s General Store, though I should probably say Kingman’s human’s General Store. Of course at this time of night the store was closed, and of Kingman there was no sign.

“Probably in the park for cat choir,” said Dooley, following my gaze.

“They’ll all be in the park for cat choir,” said Harriet. “Except for me, and to be absolutely honest, I’ll probably never go to cat choir again.”

“But why, sugar biscuit?” asked Brutus. “I thought you did pretty well tonight.”

“Didn’t you see the horrified looks on people’s faces? And didn’t you hear the laughter when my performance was over? They hated me—probably thought it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever seen or heard.”

“I don’t think so, snow bunny. I think they were surprised, that’s all. They’ve never seen that kind of performance before. And you know what people are like. They hate whatever’s new—at least at first. But give them some time and they’ll appreciate your performance for what it was: refreshing and adorable.”

“Oh, Brutus, my snickerdoodle, you always know exactly what to say to cheer me up.” Then her shoulders sagged. “But I still think it was terrible, and by now word will have spread through Hampton Cove’s cat community and soon they’ll all be laughing like hyenas. No, I’m never going to cat choir again and that’s my final word.”

We’d been staring up at the hotel while Harriet shared her self-critique with us, and suddenly I was struck by an idea. “Why don’t we try the fire escape?” Once, not all that long ago, Dooley and I had managed to get into the hotel that way.

And so we quickly crossed the road, ducked into a side alley and arrived at the back of the hotel. And there, gleaming and majestic, was a metal fire escape. We scaled the wire mesh staircase and soon arrived on the fourth-floor platform. Unfortunately it was one of those doors that only open from the inside, with a push bar. And since there was no one to push on this particular bar, we were stuck. But then Harriet decided to use her secret weapon: a repeat performance of tonight’s song, and this time we were four, not two, with Dooley, myself and Brutus provided backing vocals.

It must have made quite an impression, for very quickly a window to one of the rooms opened and a shoe whizzed through the night and hit me smack in the head.

“Ouch!” I said.

But seeing as this appeared to be the price to pay for achieving greatness, I didn’t let up and kept on howling away. More windows opened, and more shoes zoomed through the air. Few of them hit their targets, except a big boot that hit Brutus in the back.

“Hey, watch it, you brute!” he yelled.

And then, finally, the moment we’d all been waiting for arrived: a sleepy-looking little girl opened the door. Rubbing her eyes, she said, “Mommy? It’s the cat from the show.”

“Come back to bed, honey,” a woman’s voice sounded from halfway down the hallway.

“But it’s the pretty white cat from the show, mommy. And she’s singing again.” She bent over and petted Harriet, who purred up a storm in response.

“Annabella! Back to bed!” the same voice came back, and Annabella, after a moment’s hesitation—the sight of Harriet, a star performer, was clearly very enticing—she ran along to her mother. Soon all was quiet once more. Except this time the door was open, and so we quickly entered.

“Great work, angel bunny,” said Brutus. “You nailed it.”

“I think I’m improving, though, don’t you think?” said Harriet.

“With leaps and bounds,” said her ever-loyal boyfriend.

“I think our backing vocals made a big impression, too,” said Dooley.

“For which I thank you guys,” said Harriet.

We’d arrived at the Weskits’ room and I had a flash of d?j?-vu. Once again we needed to get inside.

“Room service!” said Brutus suddenly.

We all looked up at this.

“Come again?” I said.

He pointed to the same cart Dooley and I had employed before, and repeated,“Room service. These rich and famous people never sleep. Instead they spend half the night ordering room service. So if we can sneak onto one of these room service carts while they’re being ridden into the room, we’re golden.”

“Are you quite sure about this?” asked Harriet after we’d been waiting in that hallway for fifteen minutes with not a room service person in sight.

I felt she was right to be impatient. The hotel seemed pretty quiet. The only person we’d seen was a man staggering down the corridor, giving us curious looks. He’d muttered, “Eight cats—what do you know?” but had still managed to enter his room.

“Sure I’m sure,” said Brutus, though he sounded a lot less sure than when he’d first made the suggestion. Problem was, neither of us had a better idea.

Another ten minutes later, though, the elevator dinged, and much to our elation a room service cart, pushed by a room service person, came squeaking down the corridor.

“Now!” cried Brutus. “Go, go, go!”

And so we all hopped onto the lower platform of the cart, nicely obscured by a sheet, and hoped we’d caught the right bus. Otherwise we’d be locked up in the wrong room.

The squeak-squeak-squeak of the wheels suddenly halted, a deferential knock sounded, followed by an equally deferential cough, and the door opened. Slippered feet appeared in our field of vision. They were pale and bony, and unfortunately—my knowledge of human legs is extensive but still limited to the few humans whose sticks for legs I’ve made an acquaintance with over the years—I had no way of knowing whether they were Laron Weskit’s or his wife’s, or indeed The Dieber’s or Jamie’s.

“Are those the right legs?” asked Harriet, wrestling with the same vexing question.

“I don’t know!” said Brutus, sounding panicky.

“We need to be sure!” she hissed.

“It’s all right,” said Dooley, and we all turned to stare at him, inasmuch as we were able to, considering we didn’t have a lot of space on that cart’s lower level.

“Is it Laron Weskit?” I asked.

“Trust me, we’re fine,” was the only thing he allowed himself to divulge.

The cart was wheeled in, and the door closed behind us. We were in the lion’s den.

I was too nervous to jump out from our hiding place, but not Dooley. The moment the door fell into its lock he slipped down from the cart.

“Dooley!” I said. “Wait!”

But I could hear Dooley’s voice clearly say, “It’s so great to see you again!”

Suddenly the veil was lifted and we found ourselves staring into the familiar face of… Grandma Muffin!

Chapter 27

Gran carefully listened to our story. We’d all taken a seat in the salon, while Dooley had jumped up on her lap and was purring contentedly while she caressed him. Dooley is, after all, Gran’s, and had probably missed her.

“I’m sorry for walking out on you like that,” said Gran. “But these people really drive me crazy sometimes. I know my show wasn’t the best it could be and all that, but it was something, and several people came up to me and told me how fresh and exciting they found it. Revolutionary, one man said. Just what we need in a world obsessed with youth and beauty—though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. But Marge and Alec dismissed everything I said out of hand. And I don’t think that’s fair, so I wanted to teach them a lesson, and now here I am.”

“And here we are, too,” said Dooley happily.

“Do you have to pay for this room yourself, Gran?” I asked.

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t. Laron Weskit is paying for it out of his own pocket, and tomorrow morning we’re going to discuss the terms of my contract. And Charlie wants to discuss our duet. So you see? I’m not delusional. I have a talent, and at least these professional people appreciate it.”

“But you are coming back to us at some point, aren’t you, Gran?” asked Harriet.

“Yeah, we miss you,” said Brutus.

“Of course I’m coming back, but first I want to show the family what I can do. That dear old Gran has a lot more going for her than just good looks and devastating charm.”

“So can you do it?” I asked. “Can you smuggle us into the Weskits’ room?”

“Sure. But maybe not tonight. Let’s give it a shot first thing tomorrow morning. When they’re all downstairs for breakfast you can search those rooms to your heart’s content.”

“Thanks, Gran,” I said.

“Though I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish, to be honest,” she said. “Laron doesn’t strike me as a murderer, and neither does his wife. And as far as Charlie and Jamie are concerned, they’re the sweetest couple you could ever hope to meet.”

“So they’re not killers, either,” I said, nodding.

“Nope. You never know, of course. Looks can be deceiving, and even though I’m probably the world’s best judge of character, even I can be deceived, though I doubt it.”

“Tex says he misses you,” I said. “And so do Marge and Odelia.”

“And Chase,” said Brutus.

“Talking about Chase, he recruited me,” said Gran with a smile. “Asked me to snoop around and find out what’s cooking in the Weskits’ kitchen.”

“They have their own kitchen?” asked Dooley, wide-eyed.

“Chase wants me to ask them a couple of questions,” Gran said, petting Dooley on the head. “Act as his eyes and ears because the Mayor has told the police to stand down.”

“Do you miss your family, too, Gran?” asked Harriet now.

“Of course! I miss all of you. And I’m really glad you decided to pay me a visit.”

“So are you going to do what Chase asked you to do?” I asked.

“Sure, why not? But I told him the same thing I just told you: I don’t think Laron is the guy. But of course I can’t prove that until I get to know him a little better. And now that you’re all here, we can work together to prove that my new friends had nothing to do with Chickie Hay’s murder. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Gran!” we all spoke in chorus. Though I had no idea what she’d actually asked us to do. Regardless, if there was anything to be found, we’d find it. I was sure of it. Or at least as sure as Gran seemed to be of her boundless talent to entertain Spotify listeners.

We spent the night in Gran’s room, which was spacious and pleasant and warm, and she even ordered room service for us: extra-delicious kibble and extra-yummy soft food.

“You know, Max?” said Dooley as we tucked in, “I think I could get used to this life.”

“What life, Dooley?” I asked as I gobbled up a kernel of kibble.

“The life of the rich and famous,” he said. “Room service at all hours of the day and night, a nice suite to lounge around in, a flock of adoring fans…”

We all pricked up our ears when loud singing came from outside. When Gran opened her window something was thrown in her face. A pair of panties. She stared at it for a moment, then threw them back.“Wrong room!” she yelled, and slammed the window.

“I think those were meant for Charlie,” said Brutus with a laugh.

“Damn cheek,” Grandma grumbled, and decided to call it a night. We all curled up on the huge and comfy bed, and moments later only the sounds of one old lady and four cats snoring softly could be heard.

The next morning, we discovered the pleasures of room service all over again, and once more were pleased with the selection of tasty chicken nuggets at our disposal.

“I’m going downstairs to have breakfast with the others,” said Gran after taking a shower. She was dressed in a nice new dress I’d never seen before. It was short and sexy.

When she caught us all staring at her, she twirled around, and said,“Laron got these for me last night, from the hotel shop. Nice, huh? And Shannon Weskit is taking me shopping later. They want me decked out in a completely fresh set of threads.” She sighed, her eyes shining with delight. “A girl could get used to this life, that’s for sure,” she said, echoing Dooley’s words from the night before.

Before she went down for breakfast, she instructed us to follow her out into the hallway, and stay close to the wall. She then knocked on Laron Weskit’s door, and when he opened we all quickly scooted between his legs and into his room.

“Ready for breakfast, Laron?” we could hear Gran ask, and Laron grumbled something in response. Clearly he was not a morning person.

“Gran is in better shape than this Laron guy!” said Dooley, and we all giggled at that.

We’d immediately streaked underneath the bed, where we now remained hidden until the coast was clear. Finally Laron and Shannon left, and the room was finally ours.

“Hey, intruders,” said suddenly a familiar voice.

When we turned, we found ourselves being addressed by the hairless cat Cleo.

“Cleo!” cried Dooley. “So nice to see you again!”

“Likewise, furball,” said Cleo, obviously in a great mood. “And who are these guys? I briefly saw you last night but we weren’t properly introduced.”

“This is Harriet, and this is Brutus. Harriet and Brutus, meet Cleo, Laron’s cat.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Brutus politely.

“Aren’t you the singer from last night?” Cleo asked Harriet.

Harriet perked up at this.“Did you see my show?”

“I wasn’t lucky enough to catch it live, but Laron and Shannon watched the footage on the big screen after you guys had all left.”

“And? What did you think?” asked Harriet, sounding a little nervous.

“Loved it, sister! And so did Laron and Shannon. They thought you were fantastic!”

“Oh, my,” said Harriet, visibly touched. “Oh, my, oh, my.”

“You’re the real thing, girl,” said Cleo. “And those are not my words but Laron’s. You know he’s a record executive, right? If he says you’ll hit it big, you better pay attention.”

“Did you hear that, Brutus? They loved us! Loved us!”

“That’s wonderful news, chocolate drop,” said Brutus, though he didn’t look as happy as I would have expected. And as Harriet chatted some more with Cleo, who turned out to be a big fan, I took Brutus aside.

“Everything all right, buddy? You don’t look so happy.”

“Can’t you see what’s happening, Max?” he asked with a pained look on his face.

“Um… Harriet is being showered with compliments and you’re jealous? Is that it?”

“No! She’s getting showered with compliments and soon she’ll start a big career and where does that leave me? Nowhere!”

“But you’ll still be her backing vocalist, right?”

“No! Well, maybe at first, but everybody knows backing vocalists are replaceable. Here today, gone tomorrow. Soon she’ll have admirers all over the world, and she’ll fall for one of them, and then she’ll forget all about me. Just you wait and see. It’ll happen.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Even if Harriet makes it big—and that’s still a very big if—she’ll take you with her, all the way to the top. I’m absolutely sure of it.”

“Didn’t you ever see the Hunger Games?” he asked sadly.

“Um… yeah, I seem to remember I did. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“You know how that ended, right?”

“Um…” I didn’t really see the connection, and I told him.

“She dumps the boy she knew from back home! One of the Hemsworth brothers. She dumps the Hemsworth when she gets the hots for the new kid she meets on the road. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen with me and Harriet.” His shoulders slumped, and no matter how much I tried to cheer himup, he wouldn’t hear of it. He said he was a Hemsworth now, and soon Harriet would meet her Peeta and that would be the end of it.

Still, we had a job to do, so while Brutus pined, and Harriet giggled at Cleo’s compliments, Dooley and I started a thorough search of the Weskits’ hotel room.

“What are we looking for, exactly, Max?” asked Dooley, and not unreasonably so.

“Um…” I would have said the murder weapon, but with strangulation the murder weapon is actually a pair of hands, and it wasn’t likely we would find those lying around.

“You’ll know it when you find it,” I told him, remembering Odelia’s words.

He repeated these words to himself like a mantra, and then we started snooping around in earnest. I checked every possible square inch of that room, and when we were done I had to admit there wasn’t a thing that really jumped out at me. I knew that Mrs. Weskit loved shopping, as I’d found a massive amount of shopping bags, most of them still unpacked and all with names of boutiques and shoe shops printed on them. I also knew Mr. Weskit loved cufflinks. He had an entire collection and appeared to take them with him on the road. There was also a dressing room stashed with shirts, pants, socks, ties for him and blouses, skirts, dresses and shoes, shoes, shoes for her. But nothing that told me that either of these people was the cold-blooded killer of Miss Chickie Hay.

When Dooley and I met up again in the living room, he shook his head.“I found a book about having babies. It was next to the toilet. Does that tell you anything, Max?”

“It tells me the Weskits may be thinking about family expansion,” I said, “but apart from that not much more.”

“I also found a greeting card sent by Chickie Hay to Laron. It said something about eternal friendship and loving affection. Dated three years ago.”

“So three years ago they were still friends. I wonder what happened to make them fall out like this.”

“We’d have to ask Laron.”

“Gran will have to ask Laron, and I’m sure she will.”

“Over breakfast? Do you think that’ll work?”

“Humans love breakfast, Dooley. Especially the breakfast buffet at a five-star hotel. If there are any secrets the Weskits are liable to spill, they’ll spill them over breakfast.”

Harriet was still talking about herself, and how great she was, and the more she talked the more Brutus gnawed his claws, looking terrified at the prospect of being Hemsworthed. There wasn’t a lot I could do for him, to be honest. If Harriet was going to Hemsworth him, she would. But she wasn’t there yet, and frankly I didn’t think she’d ever be there. These celebrity types talk a good game, but often fail at follow-through.

“Let’s start on the next room,” I told Dooley. We both looked a little wearily at the door to Charlie and Jamie’s room, which was open. Searching a room is a lot of work, especially if you’re a cat and you’re hampered by the lack of opposable thumbs to open cabinets and drawers and such. Still, we managed, and over the course of the next half hour we took a deep dive into the private life of The Dieber. Finally I admitted defeat.

“Nothing,” I said when I met Dooley again.

“I think I may have found something, Max,” he said, and led me deeper into the bedroom the couple shared. There, hidden underneath the bed, was a letter. I plunked down to read it, and soon was smiling from ear to ear.

“You did it, Dooley,” I said.

“I did?” he asked, a smile spreading across his features.

“You solved the murder!”

Now all we had to do was get this letter out of that room and into Gran’s hands.

Chapter 28

When Vesta saw the breakfast buffet she nearly swooned. She’d always been a big fan of breakfast buffets, and one of the things she liked most about going on holiday was staying in hotels with a big breakfast spread. The dining room was bright and airy, and smelled of freshly brewed coffee, freshly baked pastry and freshly squeezed orange juice. She hurried over to the buffet, picked up a tray, and soon was loading up on croissants, muffins, toast, scrambled eggs, those delicious little sausages and yummy spring rolls.

By the time she returned to her table, the eyes of the others were on her tray and Laron had to laugh. In spite of what his semi-permanent frown indicated, the man had a pleasant laugh. “Vesta! You can’t possibly eat all of that!”

“Watch me,” she growled, and plunked down her tray.

Across from her sat Charlie and Jamie, the lovey-dovey couple, although from the looks of things Jamie wasn’t as lovey-dovey this morning as usual.

“That tribute song for Chickie you sang last night was beautiful,” Vesta told the young woman, deciding to get the ball rolling and see what the outcome was.

Jamie gave her a sweet smile and swept her long auburn tresses over her shoulder.“Thanks, Mrs. Muffin. I thought it was only fitting, us being best friends and all.”

“Terrible loss,” said Laron, shaking his head. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Do they know who did it yet?” asked Charlie, removing an arm that seemed to be permanently glued in place on his girlfriend’s back to pick up a bread roll and start picking at it without much excitement.

“No, not a clue,” said Vesta.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Shannon. “You’re familiar with the way the police work in this town, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, my son is chief of police,” she said. “And so far he’s got nothing. Zip.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, if he doesn’t get results soon they’re calling in the state police,” said Vesta, watching carefully how the others responded. Apart from a raised eyebrow from Shannon, there was no response. Either these were some very cool cucumbers or they had no clue about what had happened.

“I think it was probably a prowler,” said Laron. “Has to be. They’re always attracted to people with money. He came in, bumped into Chickie, and that was her fate sealed.”

“You mean like the men who broke into your room last night?” asked Charlie.

“Sure. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was the same ones. Only time will tell, though.”

“They do have one man in custody,” said Shannon as she took a sip from her herbal tea. “A superfan. In other words, a stalker.”

“Yeah, I think I heard something about that.”

“He’s not a serious suspect, though,” said Vesta. “No motive, for one thing. I mean, he’s her self-declared number-one fan. Why would he go and choke her to death?”

“Mental health issues?” said Shannon. “Happens more than you know. Most of these stalkers are sick in the head, Vesta.”

“Did Chickie ever mention anyone threatening her?” asked Gran.

Shannon shook her head.“Last time I talked to her she was the one threatening me.”

“She was a tough cookie,” her husband agreed.

“What did she threaten you about?” asked Gran.

“Oh, this and that,” said Shannon vaguely.

“She was upset that I refused to sell her back the rights to her music,” said Laron. “But why should I? She was the one leaving me, and signing with another company. So why should I hand her back her music with a nice bow on top? That’s not how it works.”

“You were going to hand the rights back to her, though, isn’t that right, Laron?” asked Charlie.

“Yeah, for the right price. Not the peanuts she was prepared to pay for it.”

“We were in the middle of negotiations, and at this point the lawyers had taken over,” said Shannon.

“Too bad,” said Charlie. “She was one talented lady.”

Jamie had been conspicuously silent, but now burst out,“She wasn’t that talented, Charlie. All of her greatest hits were written by other people, and the few songs she wrote herself didn’t do well.”

“Yeah, but at least she wrote some of her own stuff,” said Charlie, clearly taken aback by this sudden outburst. “Most singers don’t write anything. They all buy songs from professional songwriters.”

“Oh, so now you’re having a go at me, are you?”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Okay, so I don’t write my own music. That doesn’t make me a lesser singer, does it?”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to—”

“Oh, forget about it,” said Jamie, and promptly got up and stormed off, her face a thundercloud.

Uh-oh, thought Vesta. The cats were probably still upstairs, snooping around.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Have to powder my nose.” And she quickly got up and went in pursuit of Charlie’s girlfriend.

She saw her entering the elevator and cursed under her breath. Then her eye fell on the staircase. Taking a deep breath, she waltzed into the stairwell, and started mounting the stairs as quickly as she could. In spite of her age she was in excellent fettle, the advantage of working as a doctor’s receptionist—and when she exited the stairwell on the fourth floor saw Jamie as she placed her keycard against the door and opened it.

“Jamie, hold up!” Vesta yelled, and hurried over.

“What is it?” asked Jamie, none too friendly.

“I’m sorry. You’ll probably think me some gossipy old lady, but it pains me to see a beautiful young couple like you and Charlie going through a bad patch. I can tell how much Charlie loves you, and you’re clearly very fond of him, so…”

Jamie’s pout intensified. “He had no business telling me singers who write their own material are superior to singers that don’t. Lots of artists buy their songs, and does anyone call them out for it? No, they don’t. Charlie himself doesn’t write his own stuff.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” said Vesta, raising her voice so her cats, if they were still inside, could get the hell out of there.

“No need to shout,” said Jamie, still pouting.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a little hard of hearing, and you know how it is, you start to talk louder because you think everybody is hard of hearing. Look, if you want my advice, I don’t think Charlie meant anything by what he said. He’s obviously crazy about you.”

“I guess so,” said the girl, who was, Vesta now realized, very young indeed. Maybe not even twenty yet.

“Lighten up a little, honey,” said Vesta, adopting a motherly tone. “Life is too short to make a mountain out of every molehill, and your relationship will only suffer.”

“I know. It’s just that… he drives me crazy sometimes. He’s so annoying, you know?”

“That’s because you’ve been cooped up together in here for too long. Maybe you should go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

She nodded.“Maybe I will. It’s true that Charlie and I have spent an awful lot of time together. And maybe I need to clear my head. Thank you, Mrs. Muffin. You’re very kind.”

“You’re welcome, Jamie. And it’s Vesta.”

And as Jamie passed into her room, Vesta glanced beyond her, and could just see Dooley’s tail as it disappeared into the next room.

Phew. Saved by the bell.

Vesta made her way down again—this time taking the elevator—and hoped her cats had found something useful. When she joined the others she was gratified to see that her tray hadn’t been cleaned away. So she sat down, and dedicated herself to the consumption of the best breakfast she’d had in a long time, from time to time directing a question at her messmates, and Laron in particular, who she felt had the most to gain from Chickie’s death. But no matter what question she lobbed at the guy, he always had his answer ready.

But if he hadn’t killed Chickie Hay, then who had?

Chapter 29

Jamie closed the door and immediately walked over to the bedroom. How could she have been so stupid to leave that letter lying around? With the police searching high and low. Laron had told them the police wouldn’t touch them—that he’d used his influence with the Mayor to call off the dogs—but she knew that was only a momentary reprieve. Sooner or later they would be interrogated, and if they found that letter in her room…

She dove under the bed and her heart stopped when she discovered the letter gone.

Oh, no!

Had Charlie found it? But if he had, he would have told her about it. He’d found religion, and honesty was part of his new deal. At first his religious fervor had been fun and refreshing. Now it irked her that every time something was on his mind he’d start yapping about it. A good relationship could only survive if you kept a couple of secrets from your partner, but that wasn’t how Charlie thought about it at all. Or his pastor.

She searched her memory. Where could that letter be? She’d been reading it last night, but then Charlie had suddenly come into the room and she’d had to drop it to the floor, where it had remained. She’d intended to pick it up and hide it but hadn’t had the chance. And now with that nosy old lady going on and on about the investigation, clearly a spy for her chief of police son, she’d felt the sudden urge to go back for that letter and destroy it. No good could ever come of anyone reading its content. No good at all.

She looked around, then pensively walked into the living area of their suite. And then she saw that the connecting door was ajar. Could it be… She quickly opened it and glanced around Laron and Shannon’s room. And that’s when she saw it: a cat’s tail, disappearing into the bedroom. Could Cleo have stolen her letter? Were cats that smart?

She stepped into the bedroom and found five pairs of eyes staring back at her. She recognized that horrible hairless cat of Shannon’s… and the four cats from last night. Vesta’s cats. And one of those cats had her letter clasped between its teeth.

“Give me that, you stupid beast,” she said, and lunged for the dumb animal.

The cat was quicker, of course, and leaped out of the way.

And thus began a chase around the suite: Jamie bigger and more determined, but the cat more agile and a lot faster. Sooner or later she’d corner the stupid mongrel though.

“Give me my letter!” she screamed when she had the animal cornered under the bed. But the moment she reached out a hand to grab it, it scooted out the other side.

She practically howled with frustration.“Get back here, you horrible beast!”

And then she had it: the mongrel had run into the bathroom.“Ha!” she yelled. “Not very smart, cat!”

She grabbed a bathrobe from a hook and proceeded slowly into the bathroom.

The animal sat behind the toilet, eyeing her with fear in its eyes.“Good. You should be afraid!” she shouted. “Cause when I get you, I’m going to skin you alive!”

But just then, something jumped onto her back, and moments later she howled in pain as she felt claws digging in!

She reached back to get the thing off her but it hissed and dug its claws in deeper!

“Get off me!” she screeched. “Get off, get off, get off!”

She swung around and the cat went flying and hit the wall, then dropped into the bathtub with a clunking sound. It was big and fat and red—a monstrous beast.

The gray cat, meanwhile, had escaped from behind the toilet and now raced back into the other room. Jamie descended upon the cat that had clawed her, and picked it up by the scruff of the neck. God, it was heavy. It was also hissing and twisting, to no avail.

Oh, how she hated cats—and after today she’d hate the foul breed even more.

“I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget,” she said, and grabbed one of Shannon’s hairbrushes from the sink. “I’ll teach you to mutilate my back with those filthy claws.”

She’d moved back into the living space and raised the brush to give the cat a good thrashing. Just then, the door to the room burst open and Laron and Shannon stood before her, Vesta and Charlie right behind them.

“What the hell are you doing with that cat?!” Shannon cried, outrage written all over her features.

“Nothing, I swear!” she said as she dropped both cat and hairbrush. “That cat over there stole… stole something from me!”

To her horror she saw that the small gray cat had jumped into Vesta’s arms and that the old lady was carefully taking the letter from between the cat’s teeth and started reading it.

“That’s mine!” she yelled. “Give it back! It’s mine!”

But Vesta looked up at her, a hint of steel in her eyes.“I think it’s time I called my son,” she said. “Laron, Shannon, grab her and make sure she doesn’t escape. I think we just caught Chickie’s killer.”

Chapter 30

Odelia, who was at the office, was surprised to get the call. When she arrived at the hotel she was even more surprised to find her four cats, all looking fairly triumphant.

“How did you guys get here?” she asked, crouching down.

“We felt we hadn’t done enough,” said Max.

“Yeah, we let you down, Odelia,” Harriet added. “So we decided to search those rooms again.”

“And Dooley found something. Gran says it proves that Jamie is the killer.”

She straightened and watched as Jamie Borowiak was led out of the hotel by two of her uncle’s officers, cuffed and looking distinctly distraught.

“I didn’t do it,” the young woman said tearfully. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“Tell that to the judge,” one of the officers snapped.

Behind Jamie, Chase now also walked out, followed by Uncle Alec and Gran.

“What’s going on?” asked Odelia. “Why did you arrest Jamie?”

“Look at this,” said her uncle, and produced a letter wrapped in a plastic cover.

She quickly read through its contents. It was a letter written by Chickie Hay, only a week ago, addressed to Jamie. It basically accused Jamie of stealing her boyfriend Charlie Dieber away from her, and warned her that she would take sweet, sweet revenge.

“There’s nothing new in this letter,” she said. “We already knew they had a fight.”

But Gran tapped the document.“Jamie tried very hard to hide this letter. She chased Dooley all around the room and practically murdered Max when he tried to protect his friend. Why would she go to all that trouble if she wasn’t the killer?”

“Because she didn’t want people to know about the rift between her and Chickie?”

“Chickie was threatening Jamie with ‘sweet, sweet revenge,’” Gran said stubbornly. “So Jamie decided to shut her up once and for all. It’s all in the letter, Odelia.”

“But it’s not, is it?”

Gran brought her face close to Odelia’s, noses touching. “Read. Between. The. Lines.”

“I think it’s pretty conclusive,” said Uncle Alec. “And I’m sure we’ll get a confession.”

“Dooley found this letter?” asked Odelia, glancing down at Dooley, who looked proud as a peacock.

“Yeah,” said Gran. “I managed to smuggle the cats into Laron and Shannon’s room, and Dooley found the letter lying under Jamie’s bed. She must have realized she dropped the letter cause she came back to look for it, but by that time Dooley had already snatched it between his teeth. She then chased poor Dooley all across the room, until we happened to arrive and saved him and the incriminating letter in the nick of time.”

“Good job, Ma,” said Uncle Alec in a rare compliment, and gave his mother a peck on the cheek.

The old lady looked pleased as punch.“I think this might hamper my chances for that duet with Charlie, though,” she said. “I doubt he’ll want to work with the woman who put his girlfriend in jail.”

“Yeah, Laron already told me in no uncertain terms what he felt about your latest stunt,” said Uncle Alec.

“He did, did he? Well, did you tell him his prot?g?e is a killer?”

“I told him we arrested Jamie and he said he’d get the best damn lawyer in the country and I’d be sorry and you would be, too.”

“Yikes. I’m quaking in my boots,” said Gran with a grin.

“Do you guys want a lift home?” Odelia asked her cats.

“No, I think we’ll stick around for a bit,” said Max.

“You did great,” she said, and squeezed Dooley’s cheeks. He giggled.

“I think my career will be over, too,” said Harriet a little ruefully. “Laron will never engage one of the cats that got Jamie sent to prison.”

“Oh, well, you had a good run,” said Brutus, looking very pleased all of a sudden.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered, and watched as Jamie was placed in the back of a squad car and driven off. Several people stood pointing up at the hotel, holding their smartphones to take pictures. And when Odelia looked up she saw Laron Weskit standing in front of his hotel room window, accompanied by Shannon and Charlie. They didn’t look happy, and moved away from the window, not wanting to be filmed.

“Dark days,” said Odelia as Chase joined her. “At least for the Weskits.”

“And Charlie,” said Chase. “He just watched his girlfriend being arrested for murder.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“Don’t you?” he deflected.

“I don’t know. That letter doesn’t prove anything, does it? I mean, so Chickie wrote a letter, promising revenge for stealing her boyfriend. I’m sure that’s just the language of a woman scorned. And I doubt Jamie would kill Chickie just because of that threat.”

“Yes, but why did she try so hard to make that letter disappear?”

“But she didn’t, did she? According to Dooley the letter was just lying there, under the bed. It’s only when Gran started asking questions that she decided the letter wasn’t fit for public consumption and should stay private.”

“Let’s see what she says. I’m sure your uncle will be able to get the truth out of her.”

“I guess.”

“And at the very least she deserves to be punished for treating your cats the way she did. She was just about to give Max a beating with a hairbrush.”

Odelia raised an eyebrow.“She was?”

“Yeah, that’s what your grandmother says, and Jamie is not denying it.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe she does deserve to be punished.”

If there was one thing Odelia hated above all else, it was people who tormented animals. As far as she was concerned, the punishment couldn’t be big enough.

Chapter 31

“What’s going on?” asked Kingman when we joined him.

“Oh, just that Dooley managed to catch a killer,” I said.

Kingman stared from me to Dooley.“Dooley caught a killer? How did that happen?”

“I found an inseminating piece of evidence,” said Dooley happily.

“Not inseminating, incriminating,” Harriet corrected him.

“Very incriminating,” I said. “A letter Chickie Hay wrote Jamie Borowiak, threatening revenge for stealing her boyfriend Charlie Dieber.”

“And that letter proves that she killed her?” asked Kingman.

“It does. Convulsively,” said Dooley, still beaming.

“Conclusively,” I said.

“Well, congratulations, Dooley,” said Kingman. “You must feel like a real star now.”

“A star detective,” said Dooley with a smile.

“I’m just glad this investigation is over,” said Brutus. “I feel very tired all of a sudden.”

“It’s these celebrities,” said Harriet. “They’re very tiring.”

She seemed a little downcast now that her big career was over even before it began.

“So what’s going to happen now?” asked Kingman.

“Now Uncle Alec is going to interrogate Jamie and then once she confesses she’s going to appear before the judge and then she’ll go to prison,” said Dooley, the expert.

“No, I mean what’s going to happen with you? Are you going to have to testify in court? Usually the people who find important evidence, especially of the incriminating kind, have to testify in court, in front of a judge and a jury of their peers.”

“A jury of our peers would be a jury of cats,” Harriet pointed out. “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”

“No, I don’t think Dooley will have to testify in court,” I agreed. “Cats rarely testify in court.”

“Rarely? You mean never,” said Harriet. “It’s not fair but there you are. We never get to testify in court, and we never get to go to court against anyone, either.”

“Who would you like to take to court, Harriet?” asked Kingman, an amused expression on his face.

“Where do I start? I wouldn’t mind taking Shanille to court, for instance. She told me last week that I can’t sing solos anymore. Which I thought was extremely unfair.”

“Why can’t you sing solos anymore?” asked Dooley, interested in Harriet’s latest drama.

“She feels that the whole idea of singing solos is anti-democratic. It breeds jealousy and discord in cat choir and she can’t have that. So from now on no more solos.”

Which was probably the reason Harriet was so keen on starting her career as a singer on stage. To get back at Shanille. Show her once and for all what a terrific soloist she really was.

“I doubt whether a jury would convict Shanille for that,” said Kingman. “Denying a choir singer their solo is not a punishable offense, as far as I know.”

“Well, it should be,” Harriet insisted. “It’s caused me great emotional distress and I’m entitled compensation. Not to mention she’s reduced my earning capacity. A talent scout who just happened to be watching our rehearsals would have signed me up in a heartbeat. But if no one is allowed to sing a solo, no scouts will come to our rehearsals.”

“Do you really think talent scouts come to our rehearsals?” I asked.

“Of course! How else are they going to scout fresh new talent like me?”

Kingman, who’d been smiling at this quaint conceit, wiped the smile from his face when he caught Harriet’s icy glare. It never ends well when you laugh at something she says. Harriet hates to be made a fool of, a chink in her armor we’re all well aware of.

“So are you going to do any more performing?” asked Kingman now.

“I doubt it,” said Harriet sadly. “Laron fired Gran, and I guess that means the end of my career, too.”

“Too bad,” muttered Brutus, though he looked like the cat that got the cream.

“Maybe I’ll have a word with Shanille,” said Kingman. “Ask her to reconsider this whole solo policy. I’ll tell her that every great choir embraces the solo as part of its repertoire, and if she simply promises every member of cat choir that they are entitled to perform their own solo at some point, it shouldn’t breed any jealousy or envy.”

“That’s a great idea, Kingman,” I said. “If everyone is a soloist, there’s no need for jealousy.”

Harriet didn’t look convinced. “It will devalue the solo, though,” she said. “If everyone is a soloist, what’s the point? Besides, cat choir has dozens of members. If they all get to do a solo, it will take months before it’s my turn. I think this is a lousy idea, Kingman.”

And on this note of constructive criticism, she stalked off, then turned.“Let’s go, Brutus.” And Brutus, after waggling his eyebrows at us, quickly traipsed off after her.

“Tough baby,” said Kingman.

“Harriet wants to shine,” I explained. “And it’s hard to shine when everyone shines.”

“I would like to do a solo once,” said Dooley.

Kingman and I both smiled. Now that Dooley had tasted stardom, he wanted more.

“I’ll talk to Shanille,” said Kingman. “Tonight you’ll get your solo, Dooley.”

And Dooley shone, which warmed my heart. The thing is, some cats are pleased when other cats shine. Dooley being a star made me feel happy for him, not jealous. Then again, Dooley was my friend, of course. I doubted whether I’d feel happy if, for instance, Milo ended up being the star of the piece, as I don’t like Milo all that much.

“So are you guys going to the wake?” asked Kingman.

We both stared at him.“Wake? What wake?” I asked.

“Chickie Hay’s wake, of course. Who else? Wilbur is going, and so is half the town. Wilbur said it’ll be the social event of the season.”

Wilbur Vickery, Kingman’s human, is as much a gossip as his four-legged sidekick.

“What’s a wake, Max?” asked Dooley.

“It’s when people get to greet the body of a dearly departed,” I said. “They can sit with the body and remember their loved one, or even share stories about the deceased.”

“Why is it called a wake, though?”

“Because you have to stay awake throughout the thing,” said Kingman. “If you fall asleep it’s a sign of disrespect.”

I doubted whether this was the case, but Dooley seemed satisfied.“I hope I can stay awake,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful to Miss Hay.”

“I’m sure we’re not invited,” I said, “so that won’t be an issue.”

“And I’m sure we’re all invited,” said Kingman. “Chickie loved pets. She would have wanted us to be there.”

“Are you going?” Dooley asked Kingman.

“You bet. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He abruptly turned away. Two exceedingly attractive felines had entered the store, and Kingman wouldn’t be Kingman if he wasn’t keen on welcoming them personally, wishing them a wonderful shopping experience.

And as Dooley and I walked out of the store, I said,“Maybe we should go to the wake. Pay our respects.”

“Maybe we should,” Dooley agreed. “And maybe Gran can sing her song again. As a sign of respect.”

“I doubt whether that’ll happen.”

“But why? She’s a very good singer.”

“No, she’s not. She’s a terrible singer.”

“But Charlie likes her, and Laron Weskit. And they are the experts.”

“They like her because of the novelty factor. Once that wears off, they’d have dumped her like yesterday’s trash. It’s like those dancing poodles you see on YouTube,” I explained when he gave me a look of confusion. “We all love to watch poodles dance, but people tire of them very quickly, and then they see a grinning turtle and they all flock to the turtle, giving it likes and follows, until the novelty wears off, and so on and so forth.”

“You mean Gran is like a dancing poodle?”

“Or an elephant who can play the clarinet. Simply a novelty.”

“Poor Gran. I don’t think she knows she’s like an elephant who plays the clarinet.”

“I think deep down she does know.”

“How about Tex? Is he a novelty?”

“No, Tex is a regular musician.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Gran makes people laugh and makes them have a good time, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

He was right. As long as people were entertained, it didn’t matter if you were a talented musician or a novelty act. And Gran certainly had a high capacity for providing entertainment.

Chapter 32

Uncle Alec had asked Chase to visit Chickie’s family and give them an update, and Chase had asked Odelia to tag along. Her presence, he felt, would smooth things over with the family after they’d already caught the wrong guy when they arrested Olaf the Stalker. Chickie’s mother had expressed disappointment with the way the investigation was progressing, and Chase felt Odelia had established a rapport with Yuki and Nickie.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to bring Max and Dooley along, though,” said Chase as he drove them up to the house. “Last time Max got stuck inside the coroner’s office and you had to go and bail him out.”

“He won’t do it again,” said Odelia. Max had taken such a fright that he wouldn’t climb a fence or an ambulance for a long time. “Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” said Max. “No stunts from me this time. I promise.”

“Or me,” said Dooley.

“So why are we going back to the house, exactly?” asked Max.

“To give the family an update on the investigation,” said Odelia. “Especially now with Jamie’s arrest.”

“Are you going to tell them I caught Jamie?” asked Dooley.

“Um… I think we better not mention that. Most people think it’s a little strange when cats solve murders and talk to their humans.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Dooley, sounding disappointed. Now that he had solved a crime he obviously felt the whole world should be informed.

“I’ll tell them you helped, though. How about that?”

“You will? Oh, I would love that,” said Dooley, and Odelia laughed.

“He wants to take the credit for Jamie’s arrest,” Odelia explained for Chase’s sake.

“Can’t blame him. He did a great job,” said Chase. “So where are the other two?”

“I couldn’t find them. Max says Harriet walked off on a huff. She wants to sing the solos in cat choir and Shanille told her it’s not fair for one cat always to sing the solos and now she’s upset.”

“Oh, God. Cat drama. You gotta love it.”

Odelia had decided to bring Max and Dooley along because she found it very hard to see Jamie as Chickie’s killer. There was something they were missing, and in her experience it was always best to return to the scene of the crime and start afresh.

Chase parked the car across the road and they walked up to the gate. She recognized Tyson’s voice chiming through the intercom and moments later they were buzzed in.

Yuki was waiting on the doorstep, looking nervous.“So what’s the news?” she asked. “I heard you arrested Jamie? Is it true? Did she kill my daughter?”

“Let’s go inside,” Chase suggested.

They headed in while Max and Dooley stayed outside.

They followed Yuki into the living room and took their seats on a white leather sofa.

“So Jamie Borowiak was arrested this morning,” Chase began. “And we think there’s a good chance she’s the person who killed your daughter.”

Nickie had joined them and now sat, legs tucked underneath her, listening intently.

“Jamie? Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Odelia. “We’re sure.”

“You were also sure when you arrested that stalker,” Yuki pointed out.

“He’s been released. And he’s no longer a suspect.”

“Because now you have Jamie. But what makes you so sure she’s the one? Did she confess?”

“No, she hasn’t confessed yet,” said Chase.

Odelia told them about the letter, and Yuki nodded seriously.“Pretty damning evidence,” she said. “But not conclusive, wouldn’t you say?”

“My uncle is interrogating her now,” said Odelia. “He had to wait until her lawyer arrived. I’m sure he’ll get her to confess to what she’s done.” She wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but she could hardly share her own doubts with the victim’s family.

“I hope so,” said Yuki. “Otherwise you’ll have to let her go and then you still have nothing.”

“As I said, we’re fairly sure we have the right person in custody this time,” said Chase.

“But why?” asked Yuki, wringing her hands. “Why would she do such a thing? They were BFFs. They’ve known each other for years. They started in the business together.”

“Yeah, they were more like sisters than friends,” said Nickie, frowning.

“Revenge, most likely,” said Odelia.

“A fight over the boyfriend,” Chase added.

“All this over that silly Charlie?” asked Yuki. She shook her head, and buried her face in her hands. “Such a shame. Such a terrible, terrible shame.”

“Are you coming to the wake?” asked Nickie, changing the subject and rubbing her mother on the back.

“Yes, if that’s all right with you,” said Chase.

“Of course. And Chief Lip, too.”

“Chickie’s… body was released yesterday,” said Yuki. “And the funeral director assures us he’ll give her the most wonderful wake. I wanted to bury her in LA but…” Her voice broke, and Nickie took her hand in hers.

“I told Mom to bury Chickie here,” said Nickie. “She loved it so much out here, so…”

“They want me to select a dress for Chickie,” said Yuki. “And jewelry. But I can’t find her favorite earrings. The ones her grandmother gave her.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn up, Mom. I’ll go through her stuff again.”

Her mom nodded tearfully.“Oh, why did this have to happen to us? We were so happy together.”

“If you want I can help you look for the earrings,” Odelia suggested, touched by Yuki’s sorrow.

“That’s all right,” said Nickie. “I’m sure they’re in her room somewhere.”

“No, let her help,” said Yuki. “She’s a detective. This is what she does: detect.”

“What do they look like?” asked Odelia.

“Um… I’ll show you a picture,” said Yuki. She took out her smartphone and called up a picture of Chickie wearing a pair of delicate crescent-moon golden earrings.

Yuki smiled as she studied the picture.“They belonged to my mother. Chickie was crazy about them. Wore them all the time.”

“I’ll have a look around while you discuss the case,” Odelia said.

“Second room on the right,” said Yuki. “Right next to mine.”

As Odelia took the stairs two at a time, her heart hurt for Yuki. The poor woman was so distraught and grieving it was hard to bear.

She arrived upstairs and opened the door to Chickie’s room. It wasn’t a room, though, but more a suite of rooms. There was a living space, a bedroom, a dressing room, a yoga and meditation area and of course a large bathroom. And as she started going through Chickie’s things, she suddenly felt a sense of impropriety. This wasn’t really her prerogative, going through a dead person’s personal items. Chickie had a lot of gorgeous things, though, all kept in a large jewelry box. And as she searched through the many rings and bracelets and earrings, she found no trace of the missing ones.

The door opened and Nickie walked in.“And? Found them?”

“No,” said Odelia. “Your sister had a lot of beautiful things, though.”

“Yes, she did.” Nickie walked into the dressing room and called for Odelia to follow her. Nickie flicked on the light and Odelia’s jaw dropped at the sight of the gorgeous collection of clothes. There were so many. Beautiful dresses, rows and rows of shoes, an entire section dedicated to underwear and lingerie…

“There’s more over here,” said Nickie, gesturing to a vanity. “My sister loved shopping,” she explained as she took a seat on a low overstuffed sofa bench. “She could spend hours in here, and always complained she had nothing to wear.” She produced a wan smile as Odelia checked the drawers in the vanity desk. There were several more boxes of jewelry there, but no crescent-moon-shaped golden earrings.

“It’s hell,” said Nickie somberly. “When we were little we used to fight like cats and dogs. She was born five minutes before me, and she never let me forget it. I was her little sister and so she got to boss me around. I never let her, though, hence the fights. But as we got past our teenswe stopped fighting and became best friends instead. She relied on me a lot, and not just with her career. Life stuff, too. And boyfriend stuff, of course.”

“So you know all about the whole Charlie Dieber thing.”

“My sister and Charlie met when they were both sixteen. Boy and girl affair. It didn’t last, of course. They were both too young and immature. By the time they broke up they practically hated each other. They got back together again, only to break up again. And then get back together again, etcetera etcetera.”

“And then Charlie met Jamie.”

“Actually the three of them had known each other for years. Jamie was Chickie’s best friend, but I think secretly she’d always had feelings for Charlie. But being Chickie’s friend she never acted on those feelings. Only when Chickie and Charlie broke up did she make a move. Chickie was veryupset—which is probably when she wrote that letter.”

“She didn’t want to be with Charlie but still wasn’t entirely over him either.”

“Exactly.”

Odelia sat back.“I’m sorry but I can’t find those earrings, Nickie.”

“Maybe she lost them. My sister was notoriously careless with her things.”

“Or someone could have stolen them,” Odelia suggested. “They look valuable.”

“It’s mostly the emotional value. Because they were Gram’s.” She got up. “Don’t worry, they’ll turn up sooner or later. But maybe not in time for the wake.”

As they walked out of the dressing room, Nickie switched off the lights and gave Odelia a sad smile.“I miss her, you know. As if a part of me is gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Odelia, placing a consoling hand on Nickie’s arm.

And then the young woman broke down in tears, possibly for the first time since her sister died.“It’s only starting to dawn on me now,” she said. “Chickie’s gone. She’s really gone and I’ll never get to see her again.”

They walked along the corridor when Odelia thought she caught a glimpse of Max and Dooley. Good. Hopefully they’d find a fresh clue. Yuki and Nickie deserved to get some closure, and the only way to accomplish that was by finding the real killer.

Chapter 33

We decided to forgo another meeting with the peacock and to go in search of Boyce Catt instead. It had occurred to me we’d never offered him our condolences and now seemed as good a time for that as any.

We found him in the garden, seated on one of those rustic cast-iron benches, contemplating his fate, and looking very philosophical.

“Hey there, little doggie,” said Dooley, and for once the dog had no retort ready about giving Dooley two nips in his buttocks, or maybe even as much as four.

“Hey, cats,” he said, sounding as dejected as he appeared.

“We never told you how sorry we are about the death of your human,” I said.

“Yes, and we’d also like to tell you that we discovered who did it,” Dooley added.

I could see how eager Dooley was to tell the story of the letter, so I added,“Actually Dooley here discovered the missing clue. He discovered the letter that proves that Jamie murdered your human.”

“Huh,” he said. “Is that a fact?” He didn’t sound appropriately impressed.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? They arrested Jamie, the woman who murdered your human.”

“That’s great,” he said, and sighed deeply. “I’ve been adopted by Nickie, you know.”

“Nickie? But I thought you belonged to the whole family?”

“No, I was Chickie’s, and now that she’s gone, Nickie has decided to adopt me. She’s been adopting a lot of Chickie’s stuff lately. Her clothes, her car… me.”

“Well, that’s very nice of her, isn’t it? After all, someone needs to take care of you, so why not Nickie?”

“Don’t you like Nickie?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t she nice?”

“Oh, she’s nice enough, I guess, but not as nice as Chickie. Chickie was special, and we shared a very special bond. And now Nickie seems eager to replicate that bond but it can’t be done. I can’t simply transfer my affections to a new human at the drop of a hat. It takes time. I have to mourn Chickie and then, maybe, I’ll be ready to let a new human into my heart.”

I understood where he was coming from. If anything would ever happen to Odelia, I’d have a hard time transferring my affections, too. It probably couldn’t even be done.

“At least you can stay in the same home, with the same family,” I said. “Imagine having to move into a completely different home with a different family that you don’t know. “

“Yeah, I guess there’s that,” he admitted. “Though they’re going to sell the house and move west again. Yuki never liked it out here. Too chilly. And not enough sun. She prefers California, and that’s where we’re going after the funeral.”

“So you’re all moving away?”

“Yeah, the whole circus is heading west.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

He shrugged.“It’s okay. Maybe even for the best. After all, with Chickie gone the house just doesn’t feel the same. And being in these familiar places I’m constantly reminded of her, you know. So maybe it’s better to move someplace new, where everything won’t remind me so much of her.”

We decided to leave Boyce Catt to pine for Chickie in peace.

“So it’s true that dogs feel their human’s loss more intensely than cats,” I said.

“He does seem to miss Chickie a lot,” said Dooley.

“Poor doggie.”

“Yeah, poor little doggie.”

Look, I know I’ve said in the past that I don’t like dogs all that much, but there are always exceptions to the rule, and clearly here was one of those exceptions. Boyce Catt was nice. In fact it wasn’t too much to say he was almost like a cat. An honorary cat.

We wandered around a little aimlessly, and decided to take a look inside. Maybe Boyce Catt had a nice bowl of food he hadn’t touched. So we walked in through the kitchen door and went in search of Boyce Catt’s bowl. The kitchen didn’t yield any snacks or nibbles, though, and then Dooley had a bright idea—he was on fire today.

“Remember how Boyce Catt said he lives with Nickie now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So maybe his food is in her room!”

“Great thinking, Dooley,” I said, and so we padded up the stairs.

I could hear Odelia’s voice coming from one of the rooms. She was talking to Chickie’s sister. But Dooley and I decided to follow our noses this time, and soon we had struck gold. Prime kibble, not fifty feet away. We quickly found ourselves in a nice set of rooms, and to our elation one of the rooms had been setup as a playroom for Boyce Catt. There were several bowls all brimming with tasty bits, and immediately we started salivating.

“Looks like Boyce Catt decided to stop eating,” said Dooley.

“Looks like,” I agreed, as all of the bowls were untouched.

“A loss like that will do that to a pet.”

“Yes, it absolutely will.”

We were silent for a beat, then shared a look.“Terrible waste of good food,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, terrible waste,” I echoed.

And so we tucked in. What? We’re environmentally conscious cats. We don’t like to see perfectly good food go to waste just because its recipient is too sad to eat it.

After we’d eaten our fill—and left plenty for Boyce Catt, I might add—we checked the rest of Nickie’s apartment.

“Always nice to see how the other half lives,” I told Dooley, and he agreed wholeheartedly.

There was a nice, big bedroom, an adjoining bathroom, a salon where Nickie could watch television curled up on her couch, and of course a large dressing room, with rows and rows of clothes. There was even one of those nice vanities with a dresser attached to it and Dooley had quickly jumped on top, presumably to check his look in the mirror.

Odelia had promised him a picture in her newspaper, as the cat who’d discovered the letter, and he was eager to look his absolute best for what he presumed was a photoshoot with a professional photographer. I could have told him Odelia would probably pick one of the pictures she already had of him, but had decided not to burst his bubble.

I jumped up onto the vanity, too. I glanced around, but there wasn’t all that much to see. A box of jewelry, an extensive selection of nail polish and lipstick, sets of eyelashes. And as I jumped down again, I accidentally jumped into a drawer instead, and found myself knee-deep in more jewelry. With an eyeroll I jumped down, Dooley following suit.

“Let’s call it a day,” I said. “We ate, we sniffed around—time to get out of here.”

“Do you think I need a haircut, Max?” asked Dooley as we plodded down the stairs.

“A haircut? Why? You look fine, Dooley.”

“For my picture. It’s not every day that I have my picture taken for the newspaper.”

“We’re not show cats, Dooley. We don’t dress up so we can look good for the camera.”

“Maybe a ribbon? A nice pink ribbon? Or a collar with flowers on it?”

“You look fine,” Dooley,” I said decidedly. “You don’t need ribbons. Just be yourself.”

“All right,” he said dubiously.

We arrived at the front door just as Odelia and Chase did, and if Yuki and Nickie thought it strange to see two cats traipsing about their home, they didn’t mention it.

As we were driving back to town, Odelia mentioned how she’d helped Nickie look for Chickie’s crescent-moon earrings but hadn’t had any luck. And that’s when a memory stirred. Something important. Only it didn’t immediately come to me, and then when Dooley started talking about pink ribbons and collars with flowers on them again, and asking Odelia if she thought he needed a haircut, the thought went out of my head.

Chapter 34

The wake was a peculiar affair. I don’t think pets were necessarily welcome there, but Odelia didn’t care what the funeral home director said. She wanted us present and keeping our eyes peeled. Why, I didn’t know, as the case was now probably closed.

Harriet and Brutus were there, and me and Dooley, of course, and so was Boyce Catt. The only pet the Hays hadn’t brought was Mark the Peacock. Very sensibly they’d decided to leave him at home, otherwise the wake would have turned into a real zoo.

Laron and his wife were there, and Charlie, of course, though they weren’t speaking to the Pooles, clearly blaming them for Jamie’s arrest. I didn’t think this was fair, to be honest. After all, Jamie only had herself to blame. She shouldn’t have murdered her former best friend.

The pets had all been relegated to a space near the front of the room, and so we sat on the floor, next to Boyce Catt, who couldn’t stop howling, unfortunately, and after a while was discreetly led away by a well-dressed man who worked for the funeral home.

The wake was one endless line of people wanting to say goodbye to Chickie, who was a very popular person. Several people had flown in especially for the wake and tomorrow’s funeral. Finally, Harriet and Brutus decided to leave, due to a bladder emergency—the wake did drag on a little too long for my taste—and then it was only me and Dooley. The room had emptied out at this point, with most people talking softly in the next room, reminiscing and sharing stories of Chickie.

A lone figure walked up to the coffin, which had been placed on a small dais, surrounded by little white flowers. The figure, who turned out to be Nickie, now stood gazing down at the dead pop singer’s body.

“Odd, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley.

“What is, Dooley?” I said, starting to feel a pressing concern in the region of my bladder, too.

“She doesn’t look dead. She looks as if she’s about to wake up any moment now and burst into song and dance.”

He was right. The mortician had done a great job and Chickie looked fresh as a daisy. As if she wasn’t dead but merely taking a light nap, soon to rise, happy and refreshed.

“I’m so sorry,” suddenly spoke Nickie, after darting a quick glance around her. “But you left me no choice, Chickie! All those years treating me like I was your servant and not your little sister. Anyone could see it wouldn’t end well. And now they’ve gone and arrested that stupid Jamie. Serves her well. I never liked her anyway, and neither did you, did you, Chickie? Anyway, I’m sure you’ll learn to forgive me, and I have to admit I’ve felt nothing but relief since you’ve been gone. I thought I’d feel intense grief but so far, nothing. Only relief. Relief finally to befree again. Free to be my own person, and not just Chickie’s sister. Your personal slave. And I promise you we’ll take care of your legacy, big sister. We’ll make sure you’re not forgotten, and money from all that music you made keeps rolling in. I’ll spend it all in your honor. Now rest peacefully, my sweet.” She reached out a hand and touched her sister’s face, then hurriedly tripped off again.

Both Dooley and I just sat there, stunned.

“Do you realize what just happened, Dooley?” I said finally.

“I think Uncle Alec arrested the wrong person, Max,” he said.

“I think so, too.”

And then I realized something else.“Dooley, I totally forgot, but those missing crescent-moon earrings Odelia mentioned? I think I’ve seen them in Nickie’s dressing room. She must have taken them from her sister and kept them for herself.”

“We have to tell Odelia.”

“Yes, we do.”

“She won’t be happy.”

“Why not? We just caught Chickie’s killer.”

“Yeah, but after we caught the wrong killer first.”

I patted his shoulder consolingly.“It can happen to anyone, Dooley. Uncle Alec arrested the wrong killer first, when he decided that stalker guy did it.”

But Dooley looked genuinely upset.“I really thought I’d caught the right one, Max.”

“I know, Dooley. But at least now you caught the right one.”

“There is that,” he admitted.

Moments later, Odelia returned, looking for us.

“Hey, you guys,” she said. “Time to go home.”

She must have sensed something was wrong, for she suddenly turned serious.

“What’s the matter?”

And when we told her about Nickie’s little goodbye speech to her sister, her face turned even more grave than before.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said.

Chapter 35

Nickie Hay was humming one of her sister’s hits as she sat in front of her vanity and admired her new hairstyle. Her hairstylist had fashioned it for the wake and she loved it. It had cost a pretty penny but that was fine. She was rolling in money now, with no one to tell her not to spend it. Tomorrow at the funeral she was going to give a tearful farewell to her big sister, and then it was off to California where a new life awaited.

She opened the dresser drawer and picked out her gram’s earrings, then after a moment’s hesitation put them in. Admiring her look in the mirror, she smiled.

“They look much better on me than on you, big sis,” she murmured.

Suddenly she thought she heard a noise behind her. She looked up and was startled to find that Mom had entered the room, and brought that annoying reporter with her.

Quickly she removed the earrings and returned them to the drawer.

“It’s no use, Nickie,” said her mother. “I know you took your sister’s earrings. There’s no point denying.”

“Hi, Odelia,” she said, ignoring her mother’s comment. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Again?” she added with a touch of pique. When were the police finally going to leave them in peace?

“I know what you did, Nickie,” said Odelia. “I know you killed your sister. Because you felt oppressed by her, and because without her you would finally be able to shine.”

Nickie stared at the woman. How did she… “You’re kidding, right? Only this morning you told us you caught the killer. That Jamie was the one that did it.”

“Oh, stop with the charade,” said Mom. “The police had the funeral home bugged. They were hoping the real killer would expose themselves, and you did.”

Nickie’s heart skipped a beat and she suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. She couldn’t breathe. “The police did what?” she asked in a strangled voice. Her hand had stolen out and was casually opening one of the dresser drawers.

“We heard what you said, Nickie. Your confession. Word for word. So you see? There’s no point denying.”

“Did you come alone?” Nickie asked, trying to see beyond Odelia and her mom.

“The police are right outside,” said Mom. “They wanted to give us a moment before they arrested you. Why, Nickie? Why did you do it?”

Nickie had her hand already fastened around the pearl-inlaid grip of a small handgun. The one she’d bought as part of a matching set. She and Chickie had gotten them after they’d suffered another stalker scare. But she quickly realized she couldn’t get out of this one. If what Odelia said was true, and the police were waiting outside…

She decided the jig was up and fixed her mother with a pleading look.“Don’t you see, Mom? I had to get rid of her.”

Mom heaved a stifled sob, as if only now realizing it was really true. That she really had killed her one and only sibling.

“I don’t understand. How could you?”

“Easy. In fact I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time,” she said softly. “You couldn’t see it, because she was always your favorite, but she had a controlling and monstrous side. She treated me as her personal slave from the moment she had her first hit. Told me what to do, what to wear, what to say. Never once did she stop to think I was a person, with my own dreams and desires. She always came first. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you tell her you didn’t want to be her personal assistant anymore and left?”

Nickie laughed.“Did you ever try to say no to Chickie, Mom? You know what she was like. I told her once I was thinking about using my MBA. Maybe start my own company. She got so upset. Accused me of trying to sabotage her career. Said this was a family business and I better get in line or else. Problem was, because I’d been living in her shadow for so long I wasn’t even sure what exactly I wanted to do with my life. What person I was without her. She suffocated me, Mom,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

“But… you killed your sister, honey. You…murdered her.”

“I know. It was the only way to get rid of her. The only way to be free. And you know what? It feels good. For the first time in a long while I’m starting to feel like myself again.”

“You do realize you’re going to jail, don’t you, Nickie?” asked Odelia.

“Even in jail I’ll be better off than being Chickie’s slave,” she said, and meant it.

There was a squeaky sound, and Odelia said,“Did you get all that, Chase?”

“Loud and clear,” a staticky voice sounded through the room. “We’re coming in.”

Nickie relaxed her hand and dropped the gun back in its hiding place, then closed the drawer. She wasn’t going to get out of there, gun blazing. That was so not her style.

“Why did you steal your sister’s earrings?” asked Mom. “That, I don’t understand.”

Her expression hardened.“They were never Chickie’s, Mom. Gram gave them to both of us, so we could share them. But of course Chickie took them for herself, even though she knew how much they meant to me. So I took them back. She wore them long enough. Now it’s my turn.”

“They won’t let you wear them in prison, honey,” said Mom, looking heartbroken.

“I’ll wear them when I get out.”

“Oh, honey,” said Mom and shook her head, then burst into tears.

“Cheer up, Mom,” she said. “You lost one daughter, but you gained another.” She smiled. “And I’m finally happy. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

Epilogue

The Poole family was gathered in Marge and Tex’s backyard, the humans enjoying Tex’s talents at the grill, and the cats going over the events of the past week. Things had suddenly turned extremely eventful. With the death of Chickie Hay and the arrest of her sister, the world media had suddenly descended upon Hampton Cove en masse.

Nickie had asked to be allowed to attend her sister’s funeral, and Uncle Alec had finally agreed, which had created quite a ruckus. The Mayor hadn’t been happy. He also hadn’t been happy with the ruse about the funeral home being bugged, which it hadn’t. It was still better than the truth: that two cats had overheard Nickie’s confession. And the ruse had worked: Nickie had made a full confession, this time in court in front of the judge.

Jamie had been released from prison, with apologies from Uncle Alec on behalf of the entire police department, and she and Charlie had immediately left town, along with Laron and Shannon Weskit. They probably didn’t want to risk being arrested again. They’d threatened to sue the police department but I don’t think they’d go through with it. Uncle Alec’s suspicions had been well founded, and the man wasn’t infallible. Dooley had felt bad about the whole thing for a while, but I’d told him we all make mistakes, and in the end we did solve the murder. When at first you don’t succeed and all that, right?

“They turned me down!” said Gran. “Can you believe it? I invited Laron and his wife over for dinner and they turned me down flat! Didn’t even apologize or nothing. Skipped town like a couple of crooks.”

“Celebrities don’t like to spend time in jail,” said Uncle Alec. “It makes them look bad in the eyes of their fanbase.”

“Except if you’re a gangster rapper,” said Tex, expertly flipping a burger patty and sending it sailing straight into the bushes.

“Tex is right,” said Chase as he walked up to the grill and graciously took the tongs from Tex. “Gangster rappers want to be arrested. It’s good for their street cred.”

Tex, who’d picked up the patty and was now checking it for ants and dirt, said, “We’ve actually been thinking about incorporating a rap routine into our show. Rap is all the rage now, so we might as well take advantage and appeal to a younger demographic.”

Gran tolled her eyes. Ever since her own career had tanked, she didn’t want to hear about how well The Singing Doctors were doing. Tex was still only playing local gigs, but then he’d never had any ambitions of doing anything else. He enjoyed hanging out with his two friends and had fun making music. Stardom was the last thing on their minds.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get shot, honey,” said Marge, who’d placed a large bowl of potato salad on the table. “When I heard that Nickie had a gun in her dresser drawer…”

“She would never have used that gun,” said Odelia.

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Uncle Alec, who’d opened a bottle of beer and now took a swig. “She told us she actually thought about fleeing the scene when you walked in on her, but when she realized police were there, she dropped the idea. Said dying in a hail of bullets didn’t appeal to her all that much. So you were lucky, Odelia. Very lucky.”

Odelia gulped a little at that, and so did the four of us.

“So Odelia was in actual danger, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Looks like it,” I said.

“We should have been there,” said Harriet, tsk-tsking freely. “Why didn’t she take us along for this big confrontation? We could have saved her if things turned nasty.”

“And how would you have done that?” I asked. “If someone pulls a gun on you, how would you stop them?”

“Easy. I would jump on top of them and dig my claws and teeth in,” said Harriet.

“I would throw myself in front of the bullet,” said Brutus, puffing out his chest. “Anything to save my human from harm.”

“Would you throw yourself in front of a bullet to save Odelia, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “It’s one of those things you don’t know until they happen to you.”

“Nonsense,” said Brutus. “I know for a fact I would do it, no doubt about it.”

“And yet I don’t think you would, Brutus,” I said. “When the moment arrives, I think it’s a rare cat that would happily take a bullet for their human.”

“Dogs would do it,” said Dooley. “Dogs would take a bullet for their human.”

We all thought about this for a moment. There was a lot of truth in what Dooley said.

Then Brutus grumbled,“Yeah, but we all know that’s because dogs are too dumb to realize the consequences of their actions. Act first, think later is the dog’s way.”

“True,” Harriet said. “Dogs probably think the bullet is a fly they need to catch.”

We all laughed at this. Well, it’s true, isn’t it? The reason dogs jump at the chance to catch bullets for their humans is simply because they don’t realize bullets are dangerous things that can do actual damage.

Thus reassured that dogs are, in fact, the inferior species, we all greeted Odelia with cheers when she brought us some fresh burger patties, straight from Tex’s—now Chase’s—grill. And as we all tucked in, Dooley said, “I still feel sorry I put Jamie in jail.”

“Oh, Dooley!” Harriet cried. “Not again with the whole Jamie thing.”

“But it was my fault she was arrested, and I can’t help feeling bad about it.”

“I think that time spent in jail was probably the best thing that ever happened to Jamie,” I said, patting my friend on the back. “Besides, I thought that letter was the real deal, too, remember? So this is my fault, too.”

He gave me a hopeful look.“You really think so, Max?”

“Of course. I told you to go and give that letter to Gran.”

“No, about spending time in jail being good for Jamie.”

“Of course. A good artist needs to suffer. Because of you, Jamie is a better artist now.”

“Not sure she feels the same way,” Brutus muttered.

“And I’m sure she does,” said Harriet, giving me a wink.

Dooley had perked up considerably at this, and was now eating his burger with relish.“You know?” he said finally, munching happily, “maybe we should tell Uncle Alec that Gran committed murder. That way she’ll become a better artist, too. She’ll like that.”

“Um…” I said, alarmed.

“And how about Tex! He sure could use the encouragement. In fact why don’t we tell the Chiefall of the singing doctors are nasty, vicious killers? They’ll be so, so grateful!”

“Um, Dooley, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said.

“Why? Gran wants to be a star, and this might put her over the top. And Tex, too.”

“Gran and Tex want to belocal stars, not international ones like Jamie. So they don’t need that big push that Jamie received when she was arrested.”

He thought about this for a moment, champing quietly. Then he nodded.“I think I get it, Max. Murder is too big a crime for Gran and Tex. What they want is a small crime. Just a little one. So how about a nice burglary? Or shoplifting? Or no, wait, I’ve got it!” He fixed me with a beaming smile. “Pickpocketing! We could say they picked our pockets!”

Harriet suppressed a chuckle, and so did Brutus. They gave me a look that said,‘Try and wriggle your way out of this one, Max.’ And I had to confess I was starting to regret using the prison ruse to cheer my friend up.

“Cats don’t have pockets to pick, Dooley,” said Harriet. “So that wouldn’t work.”

Once more, Dooley was plunged in thought, then finally his face cleared.“We’ll say Gran picked Tex’s pockets and Tex picked Gran’s pockets! Kill two stones with one bird!”

“The other way around, Dooley,” I said.

“Fine. We’ll say Tex picked Gran’s pockets and Gran picked Tex’s pockets.”

Well, it was a solution of a sort, and an elegant one, too. I didn’t have the heart to tell Dooley it was also unrealistic. So I pointed behind him. “Oh, my God, look at the size of that butterfly!”

“What, where?!” Dooley cried, swiveling his head like a whirligig.

“Darn it, you just missed it.”

And as Dooley scanned the horizon for the elusive giant butterfly, I shared a smile with Brutus and Harriet. Through long association with Dooley I’ve learned the best way to solve any tricky issue with my dear friend: the art of distraction. Works every time.

By the time Dooley had come to terms with the fact that he had missed this rare sighting, he’d forgotten all about his scheme to propel Gran and Tex to stardom.

And a good thing, too.

As the afternoon wore on and turned to dusk, the scent of meat sizzling on the grill and the soft chattering of our humans caused my eyes to gradually drift closed, and soon I was dozing peacefully. I would have told you I dreamt of accolades being showered on us for our detective work, of prizes being awarded by the town’s notables, or even the keys of the city being granted to the four of us. But if I’m absolutely honest with you—and when am I ever not?—I’d have to confess that all I dreamt about was a nice bowl of kibble, a soft pillow to stretch out on, my friends nearby, and my human gently stroking my fur.

Cats. So easy to please. And if anyone tells you differently, he’s probably a dog.

I awoke from my peaceful slumber when Dooley gave me a gentle prod in the ribs.

“What is it, Dooley?” I said, and when I opened my eyes found him staring at me.

“Max? You still haven’t told me.”

“Told you what, Dooley?”

“So… who is Beyonc??”

18. PURRFECT BOY TOY

Chapter 1

“But I don’twant to go to LA!”

“You’re going, whether you like it or not,” said Gran, giving me a hard look. “And so am I.”

“Um, I never said anything about you going to LA, Gran,” said Odelia.

“Of course I’m going,” Gran snapped. “You don’t think I’m going to let my favorite grandchild go off to that hellhole on her own, do you?”

“I’m your only grandchild, and I hardly think LA is a hellhole.”

Gran wagged a finger in her granddaughter’s face. “Everybody knows LA is one of the most dangerous places on the planet, full of gangs and movie stars and whatnot. And I’m not going to stand idly by while you land yourself in a steaming heap of trouble, missy.”

I would have pointed out that movie stars are not all that dangerous, but I had a feeling my words would fall on deaf ears. When Gran gets something in her noggin it’s hard to get it out. She definitely hadn’t listened when I told her in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to go on this impromptu trip, and neither did Dooley. Not that we don’t enjoy the occasional holiday, but we don’t like flying. The whole prospect of being cooped up inside an iron tube that hovers a couple of miles above the earth’s surface has never filled me with particular joy, and it certainly didn’t do so now.

“Gran, the invitation didn’t mention a plus-one, so I’m afraid—”

“Well, I’m not leaving you to fight this battle on your own, Odelia. Not on my watch.”

We were in Odelia’s living room, which, coincidentally, is also my living room, and Gran was standing her ground, even though technically this was Odelia’s ground. But then Gran considers any turf her own turf, so there’s that to consider.

“I’ll have to ask,” said Odelia dubiously, and took out her phone.

“Do that, and while you’re at it, double check if pets are allowed.”

Odelia nodded and held the phone to her ear.

I turned to Dooley, who had been following the negotiation with trepidation.

“I don’t want to go to LA, Max,” he said. “We have cat choir and my solo is coming up.”

“So is mine,” I said, “and I’m sure Odelia will realize that singing our solo is much more important than flying off to some godforsaken place called Los Angeles.”

“Can’t Chase go with her? I’m sure he’s much better equipped to deal with this case than we are. We don’t even know our way around this LA place.”

“Another very good argument,” I said, nodding, and I ticked them off on my claws. “First off, flying is not safe. Planes fall from the sky every day. Everybody knows this. Second, Gran is there to help her out. And third, Chase should go, as he’s a cop, and cops are better equipped to deal with troubled celebrity talk show hosts than cats are.”

“And don’t forget about my solo,” said Dooley.

“Of course. How could I forget?” I said with a smile.

Recently cat choir had instigated a new rule about solo performances. Used to be that Harriet, our Persian cat friend, was the only one allowed to sing solos, but several of cat choir’s members didn’t think that this was fair. And so Shanille, cat choir’s director, decided that she was done excluding cats from stepping into the limelight. In one of those groundbreaking decisions she declared that everyone should be allowed to sing a solo. And since tonight was finally Dooley’s turn, it was obvious we couldn’t leave for Los Angeles on a moment’s notice. He’d simply forfeit his turn and then who knew how long it would be before he got to go again. And he’d been practicing so hard, too.

“You have to tell her, Max,” he repeated now, a testament to his anguish.

“You can tell her, too,” I said. “She’ll listen to you.”

“Yes, but you’re her favorite, Max.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re her first, and no one ever forgets their first.”

“Um… pretty sure you’re referring to something else entirely,” I said.

“Harriet says so, too. She says you’re Odelia’s favorite and she always does whatever you tell her to. So please, please, please, Max, don’t make her take me to this LA place!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, holding up my paws. Then: “Harriet told you that?”

“She did.”

“So… she’s talking to you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t she?”

Well, she wasn’t talking to me, that was for sure. Ever since I voted in favor of Shanille’s new soloist rule, she’d refused to utter a single word to me. Which wasn’t fair, since Brutus and Dooley had voted for the new rule, too. Brutus had done so when Harriet wasn’t looking, of course, the sneaky cat, and Dooley had simply sneezed and Shanille had taken that as a yes, something Harriet could hardly hold against him.

“Do you think Harriet and Brutus will be there tonight?” asked Dooley, relaxing now that he knew I had his case well in hand, and the Los Angeles menace had been averted.

“I don’t think so, Dooley. Harriet is still very cross about the whole soloist thing.”

“She shouldn’t be. We all should get the chance to shine,” he said, repeating Shanille’s words. “Everyone can sing, Max, even me.”

I had a feeling Shanille had seen the movie Sing one too many times, but had refrained from voicing this thought. Shanille had once kicked me out of cat choir and I wasn’t going to risk her ire over a trifling matter like who got to sing the solos.

“I know, Dooley, but she took it really hard.”

“Maybe she can go tomorrow?” he suggested.

“Tomorrow is my solo,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but you could let her take your place. She’d love that.”

I stared at him.“Take my place? But it’s my turn to shine, Dooley.”

“I know, but Harriet has been so sad lately. And you know you can’t really sing, Max.”

This was true. I’m probably cat choir’s worst singer. Still, if everyone can sing, I can sing, too. At least if Shanille was to be believed. Besides, Harriet had been more angry than sad. As far as I can tell Harriet doesn’t do sad. It hadn’t been fun for the rest of us. As I pointed out before, Harriet isa Persian, and when Persians get angry they don’t stint on the anger. I think she even peed in my water bowl. I mean, I couldn’t prove it, of course, but lately my water had had a distinctly weird taste and odor. Not fresh, I mean.

“Why don’t you give her your spot?” I said.

“But Max! I’ve been waiting for so long—and I’ve practiced so hard. I can’t let her take my spot. Besides, I can’t disappoint my fans—they’re all waiting to hear me sing.”

I rolled my eyes. Everyone can sing. And apparently everyone is a diva, too.

Meanwhile, Odelia had returned, Gran in tow. She was still talking into her phone, apparently trying to get her grandmother added to the guest list.

“Tell her I’m her biggest fan,” Gran was saying, and Odelia gestured for her to be quiet.

“I feel bad about this, Max,” Dooley intimated. “We’ve never turned down a case before.”

“I know. I feel bad about it, too.”

It had all begun last night. We’d been ready to go to bed, Odelia upstairs brushing her teeth and Chase reading in bed, when Odelia’s phone had belted out its merry tune.

“Can you get that?!” Odelia shouted from the bathroom, her mouth full of toothpaste.

Chase had grabbed her phone from the nightstand and picked up.

It had been none other than Opal Harvey herself, the queen of daytime talk shows. She’d gotten Odelia’s information from her dear friend Marilyn Coyn, a talk show host in her own right, and Opal’s BFF, and told Chase she had a case for Odelia to take on.

By the time Odelia had hurriedly spat out her toothpaste and talked to the famous woman, her eyes were shining with anticipation, and even Chase sat up a little straighter.

It isn’t every day that celebrity royalty rings you up and tells you they need you and can you please drop everything and fly out to LA, all expenses paid, to take on a case.

Odelia had sputtered for a while, claiming she wasn’t qualified, that she was just a local reporter and not some famous detective, but Opal Harvey can be very convincing, and if that hadn’t sealed the deal, the paycheck she’d dangled in front of Odelia like a carrot to a donkey had certainly helped. The moment Opal got off the phone Odelia was jumping up and down, chanting, “We’re going to LA! We’re going to meet Opal Harvey!”

Chase had grinned like a little boy, as starstruck as Odelia. And I have to confess I wasn’t averse to meeting the famous woman myself, if only she hadn’t lived on the other coast, and meeting her involved stepping onto a plane. We’d flown to England not that long ago to meet real royalty, and even though the plane hadn’t crashed, that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen the nexttime. You have to respect the odds and I wasn’t taking any chances. We’d survived a plane ride once, I wasn’t willing to tempt fate by going again.

As luck would have it, though, Chase was flying to LA himself, and even though he was booked on a separate flight, and probably not first class, my mind was at ease: Chase would be there to assist Odelia, and from the looks of things, so would Grandma Muffin.

“And? What did she say?” asked Gran eagerly. As a big fan of daytime television—her love for soap operas is legendary—she was dying to meet the one and only Opal.

Odelia smiled.“Opal says it’s okay. You can come.”

“Yippie!” said Gran, and did a little jig in place. “I knew she’d agree!”

“Great,” I said. “That means we don’t have to go.”

“Oh, you’re going,” said Odelia.

“But, Odelia!”

“You’re going,” she said, “and you’re going,” she told Dooley, “and you’re going,” she said as Harriet walked in through the pet flap, “and you’re going,” she finished when Brutus entered on his mate’s heels.

“Going where?” asked Harriet.

“We’re going to LA, baby!” Gran cried.

Chapter 2

“Did you really have to take all of them?” Gran grumbled.

Odelia smiled.“It was your idea to bring all four of them along, remember?”

“I’m not talking about the cats. I’m talking about those losers over there,” said Gran, jerking her thumb in the direction of the rest of the company.

When Odelia talked to Opal on the phone, the talk show host had assured her she could bring whomever she wanted. She was sending her private jet to pick them up, and since it could hold at least a dozen, she could bring along any pets, grannies or other next of kin. As long as she made her way to LA pronto, since there was no time to waste.

Gran glared at Marge and Tex as they gave her a jolly little wave.

“I don’t get why they had to tag along,” she said, still grumbling. “What about Tex’s patients. What are they going to say?”

“The same could be said about you, Gran. You work at the doctor’s office, too.”

“They won’t miss me, but they sure as heck are going to miss Tex.”

Tex had called in his good friend Cary Horsfield, who worked as a doctor in Hampton Keys, and was his bandmate in The Singing Doctors, to take over for him while he engaged in this little trip out west.

“And what about Marge? She can’t just close up the library like that. People need their books. Reading is important.”

“The library isn’t closed, Gran. Marcie is taking over for a couple of days.”

Marcie Trapper was Marge’s neighbor, and didn’t mind helping out her friend.

“It’s not right,” Gran muttered. “Opal invitedus, not them.” She directed an icy glare at Chase and Uncle Alec, who’d unanimously decided to ditch their official cattle class ride and hitch a ride on Opal’s multi-million-dollar jet. It was a no-brainer, as they could travel in luxury, accompanied by their nearest and dearest—though Gran obviously didn’t feel the same way about her son and Odelia’s boyfriend joining them.

“How about you?” asked Odelia. “You brought a plus-one.”

Next to Gran, a handsome young man sat, staring out the window and sipping from a milk carton. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a tight T-shirt that accentuated his ripped physique. His blond hair was ruffled and blue eyes dreamy.

“You haven’t even introduced us yet,” Odelia added. She reached across her grandmother and thrust out her hand. “Hi, my name is Odelia. I’m Vesta’s granddaughter.”

“Oh, hi,” said the young man, then shook Odelia’s hand and gave her a confused smile. “Did you say you’re Vesta’s… granddaughter?”

“That’s right. And that’s my mom and dad over there. And that man over there is Vesta’s son Alec—my uncle. And the guy next to him is Chase Kingsley. My boyfriend.”

“Oh, um…” He directed a hesitant look at Gran. “I thought you said you had no family, Vesta? That you were too young and wild to settle down?”

“You must have misheard,” she snapped. “I had my kids young. Very, very young.”

Which wasn’t necessarily true, but Odelia decided not to rock the boat.

“Okay,” said the young man, and put a straw to his lips to resume sucking from his milk carton.

“So… what’s your name?” Odelia insisted. She was both curious and unrelenting. It was the reporter in her, used to asking tough questions and not taking no for an answer.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “My name is Hank. Hank Peterson.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Hank,” she said, plastering an engaging smile on her face.

“Likewise,” said Hank, and returned once more to sucking on his straw.

For a moment, Odelia managed to stay silent, then she whispered,“Who is he?”

Gran didn’t bat an eye when she whispered back, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Odelia stared at her grandmother, then to Hank, and back to Gran.“Wait, what?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he? Probably the handsomest boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“But…”

“But what? Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Um… he’s very young, isn’t he?”