Ник Сайнт

Purrfect Murder. Purrfectly Deadly. Purrfect Revenge

1. PURRFECT MURDER

Chapter 1

I lifted one eyelid and grunted approvingly at the sun bathing the room in its golden hue. It was eight o’clock in the morning, so high time for an extended nap, but first I needed to see my human off to work. As usual, Odelia had a hard time throwing off the blanket of sleep and facing the world. She was still in bed, even though her alarm clock had gone off, and I’d alerted her to the fact that a new day was dawning by meowing plaintively and as loud as I possibly could, pawing the wardrobe door in the process. She’d thrown a throw pillow at me, so I knew she’d gotten the message.

It wouldn’t be long now. Odelia might hate getting up in the morning, but eventually she inevitably does, so I stretched and rolled over onto my back.

I have to admit I really lucked out when I was selected by Odelia to become her pet eight years ago, when she picked me out of the litter and decided I was a keeper. Odelia is not only one of the nicest and most decent humans a cat could ever hope to get, but she’s also very generous when it comes to distributing the kibble and other goodies. She keeps my bowl filled to the rim, and frequently adds a tasty wet food surprise to the mix.

My name is Max, by the way, and as you might have guessed I’m a feline. A male feline. Some of my friends call me fat, but that is simply a vicious lie. I’m big-boned. All the tabbies in my family are. It’s genetics. And, just like my brothers and sisters, I’m blorange. A blend of orange and blond.

Today was going to be a special day. I could feel it in my bones. Yes, my big bones. But it wasn’t merely my intuition. Harriet, the white Persian belonging to Odelia’s parents who live next door, told me last night that a new cop had moved to Hampton Cove. And if she hadn’t told me I would have found out for myself, for there was a new cat on the block. A nasty brute aptly called Brutus. Black as coal, built like Tom Brady, and with evil green eyes, Brutus barged into our midnight meeting in Hampton Cove Park last night, announcing he was now in charge of all the public spaces in Hampton Cove, on account of the fact that his owner was a cop. Delusions of grandeur was what I called it, and in response Brutus demonstrated the sharpness of his claws by stripping a nice piece of bark from my favorite tree.

Not a cat you want to rumble with, in other words. And if his owner was made of the same cloth, the town of Hampton Cove was in for a rough ride.

“Hey, Max,” Odelia’s voice rang out as she descended the stairs.

“Over here,” I said, giving her a wave from my position on the couch.

She plunked herself down next to me and gave my belly a tickle. She was still dressed in pink PJs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand while she rubbed my belly with the other. In response, I purred contentedly.

Odelia is slim and trim, with shoulder-length blond hair and big eyes the color of seaweed that always sparkle with the light of intelligence. She grimaced when a ray of sunshine hit her face.“Wow, too much too soon.”

“Not really,” I said. “Sun’s been up since before seven, sleepyhead.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” she said, getting up with a groan. “I was up late last night working on a piece about that sinkhole on Hayes Road.”

She shuffled into the kitchen and started up the coffeemaker while I tripped after her, then hopped onto one of the kitchen counter stools so we could continue our conversation. Oh, didn’t I mention it? Odelia belongs to that rare kind of human who can actually converse with cats. Not that she’s Doctor Dolittle or something, but she comes from a long line of women with a strong affinity with the feline species. As far as I understand it, her foremothers were witches, at a timewhen being a witch was a surefire way of getting burned at the stake. And even though that witchy streak has diminished over the generations, the women in her family can talk to cats, and do so to their heart’s content. Odelia even claims her ancestors used to turn themselves into cats and back. No idea if that’s true but it’s pretty cool.

I glanced at my bowl, and saw it was still half full, which was better than half empty, so I returned my attention to Odelia, who was pouring cornflakes into her own bowl. Yikes. How she can eat that stuff, I don’t know.

“Did you hear the latest?” I asked, draping my tail around my buttocks.

“No, what’s that?”

“There’s a new cop in town.”

This seemed to interest her, for she looked up from her cereal.“Oh?”

“Yeah, some hotshot that calls himself Chase Kingsley. Used to work for the NYPD.”

“The NYPD? So what’s he doing in Hampton Cove?”

I shrugged. Yes, cats can shrug, though it’s hard to notice with all the hair. “Beats me. All I know is that people are saying he might succeed Chief Alec.”

Odelia frowned.“That’s impossible. Uncle Alec is only…” She frowned some more. “Actually I have no idea how old he is.”

“He’s older than your mother,” I supplied.

“Yeah, but not old enough to retire, surely.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to take early retirement.”

“I’ll have to ask him,” she said, making a mental note of this.

Odelia works for theHampton Cove Gazette as a reporter, and I give her the odd scoop now and then. Since us cats are pretty much all over the place, I’ve been able to provide her with a steady stream of breaking news over the years, ranging from that rat infestation at Dough Knot Bakery, to the milk spill at the dairy farm. Cats were all over that one, as you can imagine.

This has given Odelia’s career quite a boost, and given her the reputation of a hard-nosed reporter. Her editor often asks her where she gets her information, but she’s been diligently protecting her sources—moi. If word ever got out that her sources all have whiskers, a furry tail and a propensity for licking their own genitalia, she’d probably be front-page news herself.

“I should probably do an interview with this Chase Kingsley.”

She took a tentative sip from her coffee and perked up. It’s something I’ve never understood about humans. How they can drink that horrible brew. I’ve jumped up on this kitchen counter once or twice to have a lick at the stuff, and I can’t get over the terrible taste. I’ll take a piece of chicken liver every time.

“You should. I hear he’s one of those hunkishly handsome guys.”

She looked up at this.“Hunkishly handsome?”

“And single, if the word on the street is to be believed. At least that’s what Harriet told me.” I shook my head disgustedly. “Probably one of those playboy types who goes around hitting on every woman in sight.”

“I’ll bet he’s not,” said Odelia, taking the next seat.

“Oh, yes, he is. If Harriet is mooning over Chase Kingsley you can rest assured he’s the playboy type. She’s always falling for that kind of guy.”

“She can’t fall for that kind of guy,” said Odelia, making a funny face. “Harriet is a cat, Max. Cats don’t fall for humans. It’s simply not possible.”

“Oh, yes, they do. Cats fall for humans all the time, only not for the same reason humans fall for other humans. When we fall for one of you it’s because you provide us with a great home, great food and great cuddles.”

“And why does Harriet think this Chase Kingsley provides all of that?”

“Because he’s got a cat of his own. A nasty brute called Brutus. I met him last night and he’s a real piece of work. And if his owner is anything like him, we’ve got another thing coming in this town. Do you know what he told me?”

She took a swig from her coffee.“What?”

I lowered my voice.“He only eats meat. No kibble. Can you believe it?”

She laughed.“Sounds to me like you’re jealous, Max.”

“Hey, I’m the least jealous cat in this town.”

“Why does eating meat make Brutus a bad cat?”

“Because… who gives their cat only raw meat? It’s simply not done!”

She nodded.“Who’s got the money, right?”

“Exactly. You certainly don’t.” If this came across as a barb, I didn’t mean it. I totally get how Odelia can’t afford to feed me filet mignon every day. Not on a reporter’s salary.

But if I expected her to be offended, I was mistaken. Instead, a keen look had appeared in her eyes.“Do you think this Chase Kingsley is rich?”

“I doubt it. A cop? Rich? Highly unlikely.”

“Maybe he comes from money?”

I shook my head.“I don’t think so, honey. If he did, either Brutus or Harriet would have told me. The guy’s a genuine blabbermouth, and so is Harriet, as you well know.”

“Know what?” asked a voice from the door.

Chapter 2

Oh, crap. That’s the problem with cats. They tread so softly you never hear them coming until they’re already upon you.

“Hey, Harriet,” I said when the white Persian strode into the kitchen. As usual, she was looking haughty, her nose in the air. I swear she thinks she’s the Queen of Sheba or something. Or the Queen of Hampton Cove, at least.

“We were just saying how well-informed you always are,” said Odelia.

Nice save.“Yeah, how you always seem to know everything about everybody,” I added sweetly.

She smiled at this. You might be surprised that cats can smile, but they can. Again, it’s the hair. It obscures many of our facial tics. “It’s true,” she said complacently. “I do know everything about everybody all of the time.”

“Max was just telling me about this new cop in town,” said Odelia.

“Chase Kingsley,” she said, nodding. “He’s a dreamboat.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Here we go again.”

“No, he is,” she insisted. “He’s just about the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve laid eyes on my fair share of men over the years.”

Listening to Harriet, you would almost think she’s a human herself, which is a phenomenon quite common amongst cats. They spend so much time with humans they get confused. It’s called cross-species confusion. It’s a thing. It really is. At least I think it is. “If he’s as handsome as Brutus, I can tell you you’re blind, Harriet,” Isaid now. “That guy isn’t handsome. He’s scary.”

“There’s nothing scary about Brutus,” she said huffily. “He’s one fine cat.”

“He’s a bully, that’s what he is, and I don’t like him one bit. Barging in here as if he owns the place.” Then suddenly it dawned on me what Harriet had said. I narrowed my eyes at her. “How would you know what Chase Kingsley looks like? Did you see him?”

“I sure did.” Her face took on a beatific quality. “He looks lovely when he sleeps. Like an incredibly buff angel.”

Odelia barked an incredulous laugh.“You watched him sleep?”

“Of course. I walked Brutus home last night and he invited me in. Who was I to say no? Especially when it gave me the chance to get a glimpse of the new cop in town. And I have to say Chase Kingsley is everything Brutus said he was and more.” She emitted a giggle. “He sleeps in his boxers. NoPJs.”

If I could have, I would have covered my ears with my paws.“Please, Harriet. Don’t make me puke.”

“He sleeps in his boxers?” asked Odelia.

Harriet gave her tail a studious lick.“Boxers… and nothing more. Tr?s cute.”

I held up my paw.“Enough already. Brutus is a bully and I’m pretty sure so is his master. Or have you forgotten that pets and their owners often share distinctive traits?”

“Oh, please. Odelia’s blond and you’re orange.”

“Blorange. I’m blorange, which is almost the same thing as blond.”

“I’m sure that’s not even a real color.”

“It is a color,” I assured her. “It’s strawberry blond, with gold rose hues.”

“You’re such a freak,” Harriet sighed, shaking her snowy white fur.

“Hey, don’t use the word freak in my house,” warned Odelia. “That’s not nice. Now tell me more about this new cop. Where does he live?”

“He’s staying at Chief Alec’s for the moment. Until he can find his own place.”

Odelia’s eyes were positively glittering with interest. So I gave her a warning scowl. “Don’t listen to Harriet. The guy is a bully. Waltzing into town as if he owns the place. Leaving his repulsive pee all over the place.”

Odelia frowned.“Leaving his pee? You mean Chase Kingsley is a public urinator? That’s not right for a cop. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Not Kingsley, Brutus. Though I wouldn’t put it past Kingsley either.”

“How would you know? You haven’t even met the guy,” Harriet challenged.

“I just know these things. I’m a great judge of character.”

“You’re simply jealous because both Brutus and Chase are alpha males and you’re not.”

“They’re bullies,” I pointed out. “There’s a distinction.”

She turned to Odelia.“You should snap him up now, Odelia, if you want to have a shot at him. He’s bound to become very popular very soon.”

This appeared to be one bridge too far for Odelia, though.“I have no intention whatsoever to snap anyone up,” she said, her smile vanishing. “The only reason I’m asking is because I’ll need to write a piece about the guy.”

“I’m sure Chief Alec will drop by the newspaper today to introduce him,” Harriet said, then lowered her gaze. “So you better make sure you’re dressed to the nines, honey. Remember what they say about first impressions.”

“Odelia doesn’t have to dress up to make a great first impression,” I said. “And what’s more, I don’t see why she has to make a great first impression in the first place. It’s not as if she’s even remotely interested in the man, is she?” I gave Odelia a pointed look, but she choseto ignore me. Never a good sign.

“I can always make an extra effort,” she said instead, dragging her fingers through her long blond mane and shaking it out until it fanned out across her shoulders. Uh-oh.

“Why would you want to dress up for that idiot?” I asked, alarmed.

She laughed.“You’re overreacting, Max. I just want to make sure I look presentable for our first meeting. I’ll probably spend a considerable amount of time with the man, working closely together as I have with Uncle Alec.”

That was true enough. As a reporter, she often sat together with the chief to thresh out the details of some case he was working on.

She now rose from the chair and drained the final dregs from her cup, then transferred it to the sink and gave it a good rinse.“Think I’ll go and get ready, you guys.” She winked at Harriet. “Don’t want to be late for work.”

Harriet purred approvingly. The moment Odelia had disappeared upstairs, Harriet gave me a supercilious look.“See? She likes him already. That’s women’s intuition for you.”

“Oh, boy,” I muttered. I had a bad feeling about this. Odelia hooking up with this cop? No way. Imagine they hit it off. Next thing they’d be moving in together, which meant I’d have to share my space with Brutus. Not only my space, but my food, too. And my extra special place at the foot of the bed!

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Harriet sweetly. Too sweetly for my taste.

“I can’t move in with that Nazi furball, Harriet,” I said, shaking my head nervously. “I can’t live with the monster bully spawn from hell!”

“I told you, he’s not a bully, Max. Brutus is simply a stickler for discipline. Just like his human, I would imagine. They’re both cops, Max, not bullies.”

But I wasn’t fooled. Last night Brutus had sprayed all over my favorite tree, just to taunt me. When I complained, he pointed out that Hampton Cove Park and its trees were part of the public domain, and as such off limits to cats that weren’t law enforcement like him. If I wanted to mark a tree as my own, I would have to do it in my own backyard, not the park. It was an awfully narrow interpretation of the Hampton Cove penal code, I felt, if cat spraying was even in the code, as Brutus seemed to suggest.

“He practically chased us out of the park last night!” I cried.

“He did nothing of the kind. He simply pointed out that we’re not supposed to view the park as part of our personal territory.”

“He said I should stick to my backyard if I want to mark my territory!”

“Well, isn’t your backyard big enough for you? And if you’re so desperate for space you can pee in my yard, too, Max. All right?Mi jardin es su jardin.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I grumbled. Or actually I did. It meant that from now on, this town wasn’t ours anymore. Brutus had taken over.

“Hey, you guys,” a voice spoke from the living room. “Where are you?”

I rolled my eyes again, and Harriet had to suppress a giggle.

“Over here, Dooley!” I called out, then heaved an exasperated groan.

The Ragamuffin came waddling up.“Oh, hey,” he said, his usual stupid grin plastered all over his stupid face.

Dooley is Odelia’s grandmother’s cat, and he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact he’s probably the dumbest cat for miles around, which hasn’t stopped him from securing himself a place in the Poole clan’s hearts and minds. He’s a big, beige, fluffy hairball, and seems to have gotten it into his head that I’m his best friend and wingman. Probably because he lives next door, and is in here all the time. In that sense Harriet, Dooley and I are one big, happy family. Or at least that’s how Dooley sees it.

“What were you talking about?” he asked now.

“The new cat in town,” I said before I could stop myself.

Dooley’s eyes widened. “There’s a new cat in town?”

“Brutus,” Harriet said. “Remember from last night? We met at the park?”

“He told you not to rub yourself against your favorite tree,” I added.

“Oh, that Brutus,” he said, his face clearing. “What about him?”

“Harriet seems to think he’s something special,” I said. “While I think he’s the second coming of Satan, Lucifer and the Prince of Darkness combined.”

Dooley shivered.“I thought he was way intense.”

I gestured at Dooley.“Thank you, Dooley. Brutusis intense.”

Harriet didn’t agree, of course. “Perhaps it’s because he has taken on so much responsibility. That kind of pressure can weigh on a cat.”

“What responsibility!” I cried. “He’s just a stupid cat!”

“He does have great fur, though,” said Dooley.

I turned to him.“What?!”

“That’s raw meat for you,” said Harriet, a little enviously.

“He gets raw meat?” asked Dooley, surprised.

“Only raw meat,” I agreed grudgingly.

“No wonder he’s so incredibly buff and fit!” said Dooley.

“He is buff and fit, isn’t he?” gushed Harriet. “He’s simply dreamy.”

“He’s a musclebound moron,” I grumbled. “That’s what he is.”

“Who is a musclebound moron?” asked Odelia, stepping into the kitchen. She’d showered and dressed and looked cute as a button in a flowery summer dress that revealed quite a bit of cleavage and a lot of leg. My jaw dropped. If this was the way she was going to meet Chase Kingsley I might as well welcome Brutus into our home now. The guy would fall for her like a ton of bricks. I just knew he would. No one could resist my human when she was all fresh-faced and cute as a button like this.

“Brutus,” I said, in a last-ditch effort to stop this terrible ordeal from taking place. “Like his master, he’s a musclebound idiot addicted to meat.”

“You can’t be addicted to meat,” Dooley laughed. “It’s an essential component of a well-balanced diet. And what’s essential can’t be addictive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grunted. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

Dooley blinked confusedly.“Who’s Dr. Phil?”

“You guys better behave,” said Odelia as she snatched her clutch from the counter and strode to the sliding door that led into the backyard. She closed it. “Oh, and could you find out whatever you can about Chase Kingsley?”

Now it was my turn to blink confusedly.“Anything?”

“Sure. The more I know about him, the better… for my article,” she concluded lamely.

I saw an opportunity here. An opportunity to dig up some dirt on this new supercop, so I nodded.“Sure. I’ll do my best.”

“Great. See you later, guys.”

“See you, hon,” said Harriet.

“See you, Odelia,” said Dooley.

I didn’t say anything. I was thinking hard how to stop my human from hooking up with Brutus’s human and making my worst nightmare come true.

We watched Odelia walk out the front door, then return five seconds later to grab her sunglasses from the hallway credenza, then return again to grab her smartphone, give us a goofy grin, a cheery wave, and pull the door shut.

“Oh, don’t look so glum,” said Harriet.

“You would look glum if you were about to be kicked out of your home.”

“Brutus won’t kick you out of your home.”

“He will, too. First he kicked me out of the park, now he’ll kick me out of my house. The cat’s a genuine natural born bully.”

“He’s not. He’s simply… a natural born leader.”

“And what does that make me? A natural born loser?”

Harriet merely grinned.

“Oh, I can see what’s going on here,” I said. “Odelia is hooking up with hot new cop, and you’re hooking up with hot new cat. Is that it?”

She shrugged and sashayed in the direction of the pet door.“Time for my beauty nap, boys. See you later.” And with a swish of her tail, she gracefully disappeared through the door and was gone, leaving me alone with Dooley.

“So who’s this Dr. Phil?” Dooley asked after a pregnant pause.

“Oh… just go away, Dooley.”

Chapter 3

I resisted the temptation to take a long nap on my favorite blanket, the one Odelia had put on the couch to protect it from my habit of digging my nails into any soft tissue I encountered. I needed to check out this cop character first. If this guy decided to put the moves on my human and foist Brutus on me, I needed to stop him dead in his tracks before that happened.

So I bade goodbye to Dooley and waddled out the pet door and into the backyard. After sniffing at a couple of trees, just to make sure no one had dared trespass on my domain, I set out along the road, slowly making my way into town. It didn’t take me long to reach the police station, which was just around the corner. I knew it as the place where cops liked to gather to snack on glazed donuts and coffee before starting their job of catching bad humans.

Not that there are a lot of bad humans in Hampton Cove. In fact it’s probably the most peaceful town on the North Shore. Apart from your occasional rowdy tourist collapsing on the beach or wrapping his car around a tree, it’s a pretty peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.

I hurried across the road, narrowly being missed by a speeding car, past the doctor’s office where Odelia’s dad Tex works, and the library, where her mom works as a librarian, and finally reached town square, with the giant clock the mayor had installed a couple of years ago and which has proved such a hit with locals and tourists alike, and then I was homing in on the policestation. A squat one-story building, it sported the letters ‘Hampton Cove Police Department’ above the entrance. Behind those double doors, Dolores sat, presiding over the vestibule and always ready to take note of any complaint the citizenry might have. Since technically I wasn’t part of thecitizenry, and couldn’t very well waltz in through the front door, I walked around back instead, and headed straight for the window of Chief Alec’s office, where I’d picked up many a private conversation over the years.

I hopped up onto the windowsill and once again praised Chief Alec’s good sense always to leave the window open a crack. Someone must have told him once that fresh air was good for him, and I could only agree wholeheartedly.

One peek inside the office of the good chief told me that I’d hit the jackpot. He was in there with a hunkish male I’d never seen before. His long limbs stretched out languidly, his athletic body casually draped across the chair, he was listening to Chief Alec intently. He was definitely a handsome guy. He had one of those square jaws and chiseled faces that were all the rage with the ancient Greeks. A lock of dark brown hair dangled down his brow, his hair a little too long for a cop, which gave him a rebellious look.

His white cotton shirt was stretched taut over bulging chest muscles, and his arms were all biceps and triceps and his belly was perfectly flat, unlike the beer belly Chief Alec had going for himself. If I’d had to venture a guess, I’d have pegged the guy in his early thirties, and never had the words ‘ruggedly handsome’ been a better description for any human male. Odelia was definitely in trouble, if my limited experience was anything to go on.

I hunkered down and pricked up my ears, hoping to find confirmation that this guy was, indeed, Chase Kingsley, and not simply a tourist filing a complaint about a stolen wallet, or a traveling salesman badgering the chief.

“So what do we know so far?” the guy was saying.

“I just called the ME’s office,” said Chief Alec, “and they told me they’re expecting the results from the autopsy sometime this morning.”

The chief, a mainstay in this town for over thirty years, was the embodiment of law and order. He was also a very large man, easily twice as big as the man seated across from him. Everyone knew him as a kind-hearted, fair-minded police officer, never one to throw his weight around. He liked to settle disputes with a smile and a kindly word, ever the courteous diplomat.

And then it dawned on me. Autopsy? Had someone died? I turned my antennae-like ears toward the window, my eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Good thing Adele Pun found the body. The poor guy might never have been found otherwise,” said the one I assumed was Chase Kingsley.

“You’re right about that, Chase,” grunted the chief.

Bingo! I stared at Brutus’s owner, and couldn’t resist uttering a growl.

“That body was never meant to be found, and if the Pun woman hadn’t gone snooping around, the killer would have pulled off the perfect crime.”

I blinked. Killer? Crime? Oh. My. God. They were talking murder!

“So how did Adele Pun discover the body?” asked Chase.

The chief barked a curt, humorless laugh.“Well, that’s a writer for you, Chase. They will go sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

At this, the chief directed a long, lingering look at me, and I froze. Not that I minded too much. Chief Alec was Odelia’s uncle on her mother’s side, after all, and I was pretty sure he was aware of his sister and niece’s secret.

He looked away again, and continued his story.“She says she was taking a dump a couple of days ago and suddenly started wondering where the product of her bowel movements went. Curious, she went and got herself a flashlight, to examine the bottom of the well, and shone it down into the abyss where generations of Hampton Covians have done their thing.”

“You should have been a poet, Chief,” remarked Chase dryly.

“Thank you. Imagine her surprise when she discovered a laptop sticking out of the tranquil surface of the brown pool below. Being a writer, holed up at a writer’s lodge, she naturally wondered what that laptop was doing there.”

Chase made a disgusted face.“Don’t tell me. She retrieved the laptop?”

The chief grinned.“She most certainly did. Though I have no idea how she did it. I imagine she used a shovel or a rake or something. Then she put the garden hose on it and dumped it into a bucket of salt for three days.”

“And what? It booted up?”

“It sure did. Just goes to show those cheap Korean laptops are a lot sturdier than you’d give them credit for. Reminds me never to spend two thousand bucks on a computer ever again.”

“And that’s how she discovered it was Paulo Frey’s laptop.”

“Yes, sir. None other than the elusive Mr. Frey.”

“The missing writer.”

“The missing writer,” the chief agreed.

I almost fell off the sill at this point. Paulo Frey was a famous novelist who’d gone missing some time last year. He’d been in the habit of renting the Writer’s Lodge once a year, a fixed-up old cabin in the woods on the edge of Hampton Cove. It was popular with writers, as there were no distractions out there, and they could work on their masterpieces undisturbed. There was even an old-fashioned outhouse, which for some reason seemed to appeal to the writing classes. Many a writer confessed they got their best ideas while seated on the john and allowing nature to run its course. Weird but true.

Paulo Frey had been one of those writers who felt they could only write a decent novel while ensconced at the Writer’s Lodge, pecking away at his laptop. Until he’d mysteriously vanished. The owner of the lodge—Hetta Fried—a patron of the arts—had assumed he’d simply skipped town, but when he hadn’t shown up in New York, his relatives had sounded the alarm.

The cabin had been thoroughly searched, but Paulo hadn’t left a trace, so no foul play was assumed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t pulled a stunt like this before. Once he’d upped and left and had shown up six months later in Zimbabwe, living quietly in a hut in the jungle, trying to cure a severe case of writer’s block. He was one of those eccentric writers, the ones they make movies about with Johnny Depp in the lead.

“So Adele notified the police,” said Chase.

“She notified me,” the chief acknowledged. “At which point we decided to take a closer look at that outhouse.”

Chase shook his head.“That must be the last outhouse on Long Island.”

“It may very well be,” the chief agreed. “It’s garnered a lot of praise from writers. Supposed to give them ideas. Kinda like a wishing well. You drop in a nickel and you get to make a wish. Only here you drop in something else.”

“So when did you get the idea to dredge the well?”

“Well, at first we figured Frey had simply hurled his laptop into the pit in a fit of rage or something. Which would fit with the writer’s block theory.” The chief shifted his bulk, making his chair creak dangerously. “But after poking around in there for a bit, something else came bobbing up.” He fixed Chase with a knowing glance. “An arm.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. So we called in a cesspool pumping service and found—”

“Paulo Frey.”

“Along with all of his stuff, stuffed into three Louis Vuitton suitcases. All packed and ready to go… nowhere. Looks like whoever killed him wanted to make it look like he skipped town, while he was stuffed down there all along.”

“I wouldn’t like to be the ME on this one,” said Chase, wrinkling his nose.

“You said it,” said the chief, shaking his head. “This is one messy business.”

“When will you know more?”

The chief checked the clock over the door. It was one of those clocks that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a classroom. “Shouldn’t be long now. We don’t get a lot of homicides here, so they’ve given this their highest priority. I’m expecting a call before lunch.” He patted the desk. “So what about it, Chase? Are you ready to work your first Hampton Cove homicide case?”

Chase grinned.“Throwing me in at the deep end, huh, Chief?”

“Best way to learn, buddy.”

“What better way indeed?”

At this point in the conversation, I hopped down from the windowsill and landed gracefully on all fours on the flagged floor. I’d heard enough. A genuine homicide! In Hampton Cove! This was a scoop that needed to be on the front page of the next edition of theHampton Cove Gazette. Pronto! And who better to break the story to our loyal readership than star reporter Odelia Poole herself? This would cement her reputation as the town’s best-informed reporter. Wait till I told her about this. She’d be over the moon.

And wait was exactly what I had to do, for as I made my way to the street, I found my passage blocked by a stocky, burly black cat with evil green eyes. Brutus!

“Snooping around, are we, Max?” he asked in a sneering manner. At that moment he suddenly reminded me of Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter’s nemesis.

Oh, God. This was exactly what I needed right now. Not!

“Step aside, Brutus,” I told the cat. “This is none of your business.”

But Brutus didn’t make a move to let me pass. Instead, he walked right up to me and got in my face. “If anyone is getting involved in stuff that isn’t his business, it’s you, Max. I saw you, you know, spying on Chief Alec and Chase. So that’s how you do things in this town, huh? You’re Odelia Poole’s personal spy. I knew there was a reason she was always getting the best scoops. And now I know her secret. Wait till I tell Chase all about this!”

A chill suddenly settled around the base of my spine.“How are you going to do that, Brutus? You can’t talk to your human like I can talk to mine.”

Oh, crap. Had I just said that? Bad Max!

He grinned evilly, like Bruce the shark from that fish movie Odelia likes to watch when she’s babysitting one of her cousins.

“So youcan talk to humans,” he said slowly. “I thought as much. I only arrived yesterday, but already I’ve heard the rumors this Odelia Poole person is a little… shall we say weird? And now you’ve confirmed my suspicions.”

“Well, you still can’t do anything with that information,” I challenged him. My claws were itching to get a piece of his fur, but I restrained myself. I may be big, but that doesn’t mean I’m all lean muscle like Brutus and Chase. My bulk mainly consists of, um, well, love handles. Lots and lots of love handles.

“Maybe I can’t talk to my human,” he conceded, “but I can make your life a lot more difficult. I can prevent you from snooping around and listening to conversations that aren’t intended for your spying ears.”

Horrified, I cried,“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, yes, I can,” he said, that nasty grin still firmly in place. He reared up to his full height, puffing up his chest like the nasty bully he was. “Listen up, Max. From now on the police station is off limits to you and your buddies.”

“What?! You have no right!”

“Oh, yes, I do. Chase Kingsley is the law in this town now, which, by extension, makes me the law, too. So I can do whatever I want and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“It doesn’t work like that! It’s not because your human is a cop that you’re also one. That’s just crazy talk!”

“I can assure you that’s exactly how it works, Max,” he grunted.

“No, it’s not. Harriet’s human is a doctor. That doesn’t make her capable of performing brain surgery, does it? And, and…” I cast around wildly. “Dooley’s human is this town’s biggest gossip. That doesn’t mean he’s a gossip, too. Oh, wait, actually it does. Dooley is a pretty big gossip. But that’s neither here nor there. You’re not a cop, Brutus. Cats simply can’t be cops!”

“Well, you can’t, obviously,” he scoffed. “You’re not trained to uphold the law. I, on the other hand, am. Chase used to be the NYPD’s biggest and baddest detective, and I learned a lot from watching him in action.”

“That’s just a load of—”

“Hey!” Brutus yelled, holding up a warning paw, claws extended. “Watch it, pal. You want me to arrest you for contempt of cop? No? Didn’t think so!”

“Contempt of cop? That’s not even a thing!”

“I’m sure it is,” he assured me, giving his nose a lick.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not. You’re simply making this up on the spot.”

I tried to sidestep the overbearing cat, but he got in my face again, and hissed,“You’re not trespassing again, Max. This is your final warning.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” I challenged him, my tail rearing up and puffing up while I arched my back menacingly.

“Don’t make me fight you, Max,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “You don’t want me to hurt you. I’m warning you.”

I backed down. What? Have you ever stared into the slitted eyes of the meanest, biggest, nastiest cat you’ve ever seen? Let me tell you, it’s scary!

“This was your final warning, Max,” he growled, and casually displayed three sets of razor-sharp claws and gave me a mock punch on the shoulder.

I gulped. Those claws looked very sharp indeed. So I decided not to get into a fight with this cat. I needed to figure out how to deal with him, but brute force wasn’t exactly my forte. That was obviously his department.

“Have it your way, Brutus,” I finally said.

“Always,” he said with a smug smile. “That’s something you will learn soon, Max. You and those other furballs that inhabit this stupid town.”

“Hampton Cove is not a stupid town!”

He merely grinned, and stalked off in the direction of the police station, presumably to find out what I’d found out.

Still shaking from the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I started heading for theHampton Cove Gazette. Boy, did I have news for Odelia.

Chapter 4

Before going to the office, Odelia decided to pass by her dad’s practice first. She wanted to check on Gran, who’d been feeling a little under the weather lately. She passed into the waiting room. As usual, there were already half a dozen patients patiently waiting to be called into her father’s examination room. Tex Poole had been Hampton Cove’s oneand only doctor for over thirty years, and was well-respected and well-liked by all.

She nodded a greeting to the small crowd, and quickly walked up to the reception desk, and was relieved to find the wizened old woman seated behind it, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she deftly handled the phone and the appointments book.

“Gran,” she said happily. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” asked the white-haired old lady crustily.

“Well, I heard you were feeling a little under the weather last night.”

The old lady lifted her chin.“Who told you that? That kind of information is strictly confidential. That’s between my physician and me.”

“Well, your physician is my dad,” she said. “So…”

“That doesn’t give him the right to go blabbing about my private affairs,” Gran grumbled. “I’ll have a word with that man.”

Odelia laughed.“He didn’t blab about anything, Gran. Mom told me last night you weren’t feeling well after dinner, so you went to bed early.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never felt better and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I’m just glad to see you’re fine.” The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with the feisty old lady, especially in front of half a dozen townies.

“I just had an upset tummy, that’s all. Nothing to get all worked up about.”

Odelia stared at her.“You don’t think it was my dessert, do you?”

She was the one who’d made dessert last night. Even though she lived alone, she still went home for dinner with her family most nights. It didn’t make much sense to cook for herself when she was just one person. She and Mom took turns cooking, with Gran chipping in from time to time. Last night had been Mom’s turn. She’d made grilled tuna, Odelia providing dessert.

But Gran waved her hand.“Don’t even think about it. That dessert was perfectly fine. I simply love chocolate pudding. Now state your business.”

She smiled.“Just checking up on you, Gran.”

“This is a doctor’s office, young lady, and we’ve got a lot of sick people waiting, so if you’re not sick or dying, please move along. No dillydallying.”

“Sure thing, Gran,” she said with a laugh. “Have a nice day.”

“Oh, I most definitely will,” Gran said, then hollered, “Next!”

She passed into the street feeling better already. The old lady might be feisty, but she was also vulnerable at her age, and she was glad to know she was fine. Next stop was the newspaper, and she’d just walked into her own small office when Max came tripping up.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “I thought you’d never show up.”

“And a good day to you too, Max,” she said as she took a seat.

“Oh, boy,” said Max, hopping onto the desk. “Have I got news for you!”

This morning ritual of theirs wasn’t unusual. Max might get most of his information from other cats, whom he met on his nocturnal excursions, but he often made a quick trip around town during the daytime as well, to see if he couldn’t pick up some nice tidbits of news here or there. The police station, especially, often rewarded them both with some great stories fit to print.

She needed to vet them, of course, and run them by the editor, Dan Goory, who’d been running this paper since before Odelia was born, but he trusted her, and never pressed her for her sources, knowing she wouldn’t reveal them anyway. And even if she did, she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

Weird thing about her uncanny knack was that it only seemed to work on cats. She’d tried talking to dogs, but they simply stared at her dumbly, then continued licking their butts or chasing their tails as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Tell me,” she said happily as she took her notebook and sat with pencil poised while Max spilled the latest news straight from the chief of police’s mouth. But when he’d finished his tale, she still hadn’t jotted down a word, too shocked at what he’d told her. “Paulo Frey? Murdered?” she gasped.

“Yep, and found at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge cesspit. The Medical Examiner is trying to figure out what killed him and Chief Alec is expecting his report sometime this morning. Only trouble is…”

“What?” she asked anxiously as she feverishly started taking notes. She needed to confirm all of this with the chief, but this was one hell of a story.

“I’ve been told not to go near the police station again.”

She looked up, startled.“What? Who told you?”

“Brutus,” he said bitterly. “That big brute that belongs to Chase Kingsley. He’s been throwing his weight around ever since he arrived in town. He says the police station is off-limits to me and my buddies from now on.”

She immediately recognized this for what it was: a clear and present danger to her job. If Max wasn’t allowed to sneak up to Chief Alec’s window and snap up any and all snippets of information, she was out of a very valuable news source. Not that her uncle Alec was secretive, or unwilling to share, but his niece wasn’t the first person he ran to when he had important information to share. Though he’d gotten used to her finding out anyway.

“Listen, Max,” she said earnestly. “Don’t let this cat boss you around. Tell him he’s got no business telling other cats where they can and can’t go.”

“That’s what I told him! But he threatened me with violence if I didn’t do what he said.” He sighed. “I told you. That cat’s a genuine bully.”

“This is an outrage!” she spat, jumping to her feet. “Who does he think he is, bossing others around like that?!”

“He thinks he’s the new cop in town, that’s who he thinks he is.”

“We’ll see about that,” grunted Odelia, and strode out of the office.

“Where are you going, Odelia?” asked Dan from his own office.

“The police station!” she yelled back. “I’ve got a scoop!” She quickly stuck her head into the old man’s office and grinned at him. Then she spoke the words she’d wanted to speak for a very long time. “Stop the presses, Dan. And hold the front page. I’ve got the scoop to end all scoops.”

“Oh? Whaddya got?”

Her eyes glittered with excitement.“A murder.”

“Murder in Hampton Cove!” cried the old editor, his glasses almost falling from his face as he shot up from behind his desk. “No way!”

“Yes, way,” she confirmed. “I’ll be back in a jiffy so hold that front page.”

“I sure will,” he said, a look of sheer happiness on his kindly hobbit face. The news that a murder had taken place might appall regular folk, but then reporters aren’t like regular folk, of course. To them, murder and mayhem are like music to their ears.

Odelia purposefully set foot for the police station, and thought about what Max had said about this Brutus character. It was time that Chase Kingsley taught his cat a few lessons in common courtesy. You didn’t just waltz into town and start bossing people around. That simply wasn’t done!

The police station was only half a block away from the Gazette, and it didn’t take her more than a few minutes to get there and waltz into the vestibule. Dolores gave her a little wave as she marched past the woman’s desk and through the short corridor to Chief Alec’s office.

She and the chief had developed a kind of working relationship over the years. He knew how important it was that the public be informed about the goings-on in this town, and that Odelia had a unique skill set that made her well-placed to report on anything going on in Hampton Cove. She knew stuff before anyone else did, and he helped her fill in the gaps and occasionally even enlisted her to help him on any small investigation he had running.

It also helped that he was her uncle, of course, and often sat down to dinner with them. Odelia’s mom had more or less taken him under her wing after his wife died, and he was now pretty much a fixture at the house, and enjoyed their cooking almost more than Dr. Poole himself.

So she simply barged into his office without knocking and said,“Hey, Uncle Alec. What’s all this I’m hearing about Paulo Frey being found at the bottom of a cesspit?”

Only now did she notice that there was a third person in the office, seated across from the chief. He was tall and lanky, with chiseled features and clear blue eyes. Those eyes now swiveled to her and took her in with a sharp look.

The chief had risen.“Um, Odelia, this is Chase Kingsley. Chase, this is my niece Odelia Poole. She’s a reporter with theHampton Cove Gazette.”

Chase’s eyes were still fixed on her, and judging from the expression on his face he wasn’t happy. “How the hell did you find out about Paulo Frey?”

The chief gave a feeble smile.“Odelia has her sources, don’t you, honey?”

“I sure have,” she said, taking a seat in the other chair, her notebook poised on her lap. “So is it true that you found all of his suitcases, his laptop and all of his belongings buried down there with the body?”

Chase shook his head.“Unbelievable,” he grunted.

She snapped her head up.“What’s unbelievable?”

“The way information gets leaked!” he cried, clearly incensed.

“The press has a right to know what’s going on in this town, Chase,” she said. “So I suggest you get used to it. The people have a right to know.”

“It’s Detective Kingsley to you,” he grumbled.

“We’re all friends here,” said the chief, holding up his hands placatingly. “And Odelia only writes her stories after checking them with me.”

“That still doesn’t explain how she knows about this case,” he insisted.

“A little birdie told me, all right? Now can you or can’t you confirm that Paulo Frey’s body was found at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge outhouse?”

“Yes, I can,” said the chief, casting a weary glance at Chase.

“Unbelievable,” huffed Chase again, shaking his head.

She turned on the man.“This is the way we do things in this town.”

“It’s certainly different from the way we handle things in the city,” he said, giving her a very stern look. “In fact I can’t even imagine any nosy reporter ever barging into the office of the NYPD commissioner and dictating terms.”

“I’m not dictating terms,” she gritted out. “I’m merely trying to get confirmation on some basic facts pertaining to this case.”

“A case you have no business sticking your nose into.”

“It is my business because I choose to make it my business.”

“Oh? Last time I checked you weren’t on the police payroll, Miss Poole.”

“Odelia is part of the family, Chase,” said Chief Alec, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “We’re all on the same page here. One great team.”

He held up his hands.“All right, Chief. But I still think it’s highly unorthodox, and if I were you I’d reconsider the leeway you’re granting her.”

“Well, you’re not me, son,” said the chief with a smile.

“Yes, Detective Kingsley, you’re not the chief of police in this town,” said Odelia. “So please stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, for the man’s eyes were shooting fire now. Blue sheets of flame. In fact they now reminded her of twin laser beams, doing their utmost to blast through her skull and incinerate her on the spot. She swallowed. She had the impression it wasn’t wise to be on his bad side.

Chief Alec cleared his throat noisily.“So, about Paulo Frey. I can confirm that we found his body at the bottom of the Writer’s Lodge outhouse well and that it’s been transferred to the ME’s office for an autopsy.”

“Do you think he fell down that well by accident?”

“Considering the fact that his luggage, his clothes, his laptop and all of his other stuff were also down there, I think it’s safe to say he was murdered. But like I said, it’s all up to the Medical Examiner now to know for sure.”

“Do you have any leads on the killer?”

“None yet.”

“When did he disappear again? I seem to remember sometime last year?”

“It’s been over a year,” the chief confirmed, then shook his head. “It’s going to be very hard to figure out what exactly happened.”

She thought she understood. After such a long time there probably wasn’t much left of the body. “Did you…” She swallowed. “Did you see the body?”

He nodded, a grim set to his face.“Yes, I did. We had to disassemble the outhouse and get the cesspool pumping guys in there. Took us the better part of yesterday to do that. The body was pretty decomposed when we finally found it at the bottom. Practically all that’s left is a skeleton with some remnants of skin and hair.” He sighed. “Not a pretty sight, Odelia.”

“So how do you know it’s Paulo Frey?”

“Well, we found his ID, laptop, smartphone, luggage… Hard to tell from the body, of course. But I’m pretty sure dental records will back us up.”

“And DNA.”

“Yeah, if necessary they’ll do a DNA test, I’m sure. But I think dental will provide adequate proof of identity, and much quicker, too.”

“Crap, Uncle Alec. A real murder in Hampton Cove.”

“Yeah, it’s a nasty business,” he agreed. “A very nasty business indeed.”

“You don’t get a lot of murders down here?” asked Chase.

“None,” said Odelia and Chief Alec simultaneously.

“This is a very peaceful town, Detective Kingsley,” said Odelia. “In fact I wonder what a big city cop like you is doing down here.”

“I have my reasons,” he immediately cut her off.

“Let’s just say that Chase here needed a change of pace,” said the chief pacifically. “And we’re mighty glad he chose Hampton Cove. The NYPD’s loss is definitely our gain,” he stressed, giving Odelia a keen look. “We need men like Chase on the force. None of us are getting any younger.”

Crap. Was Uncle Alec thinking about retiring and appointing Chase Kingsley his replacement? Then she’d just antagonized the next chief.

She nodded, and a look of understanding passed between herself and her uncle. She would cut the new detective some slack. But then she remembered something else, and turned to Chase again.“Could you please do something about that cat of yours, Detective Kingsley?”

His eyebrows shot up.“My… cat?”

“Yes. He’s been throwing his weight around all over town, scaring the local cats and behaving as if he owns the place. More specifically, he’s been terrorizing my own cat Max. Really behaving like a genuine bully.”

Chase’s eyebrows shot up even further into his fringe. “Your cat Max.”

She nodded seriously.“He’s chased him out of the park…” She was going to add he’d also barred Max access to the police station, but stopped herself.

The chief coughed.“Odelia loves her cat, don’t you, honey?”

Chase barked an incredulous laugh.“I don’t believe this. You’re telling me that my cat is bullying your cat?”

She pursed her lips.“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can’t simply barge into town and start throwing your weight around, Detective Kingsley.”

He rolled his eyes.“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“So you better have a talk with your cat and tell him to behave, all right?”

Chase threw up his hands.“Sure! Of course! Why not? I’ll ‘talk’ to my cat. Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Miss Poole? Tell my begonias not to take up so much space in my garden? Cause God knows they shouldn’t simply barge in here and start bullying other plants in other gardens!”

“You’re making fun of me now,” she said, eyeing him darkly.

“No,you’re making fun ofme!” he snapped, then turned away from her, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘Who the heck do you think I am? Doctor frickin’ Dolittle?’

“Well, that’s settled then,” said the chief, placing his hands on his desk. He was looking uncomfortable. “Chase will have a word with his cat, and—”

“—as soon as you hear from the ME’s office—”

“—I’ll be sure to give you a call,” he finished with a wide smile.

“Of course you will,” Chase added with another eye roll.

She turned.“You’ll soon find that down here in Hampton Cove we do things differently than in the big city, Detective Kingsley,” she snapped.

“You don’t say,” he muttered.

“So I suggest you get used to it,” she added, and without deigning him another glance, swept from the office and slammed the door behind her.

Chapter 5

I decided to return to the house and regroup. This whole business with Brutus had thrown me for a loop. If you can’t even go where you want in your own town, it’s a sad state of affairs. So when I arrived in my own backyard again, I felt both relieved—this was most definitely my domain and no domineering cat could tell me otherwise—and annoyed, for I suddenly felt cooped up for the first time in my life. When you’re a free roaming spirit and suddenly you’re forcibly confined to your own backyard, it’s not much fun.

I suddenly felt what prisoners must feel like once they find themselves locked up in Guantanamo Bay. I even had the orange jumpsuit to go with my current position. Well, not the jumpsuit, maybe. But definitely the right color.

The moment I set foot in my yard, Harriet and Dooley came trotting up. I swear they have a sixth sense about these things. Or maybe they simply gab a lot. Word spreads fast in our small Hampton Cove cat community.

“What happened?” asked Harriet. She appeared genuinely worried, which felt like balm to my wounded pride.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Dooley asked. “I heard you got kicked out of the police station by that brute Brutus?”

“And is it true that a man was murdered?” asked Harriet, eyes wide.

“How do you guys even know about that?”

“Well, Stacy Brown’s cat witnessed the standoff between you and Brutus, and Father Reilly’s tabby Shanille was out snooping around the Writer’s Lodge yesterday,” said Harriet, studying her paw intently. “The place was crawling with cops, and next thing she knew an ambulance rode up and took away what looked like a corpse. She had to move upwind at some point, as the place was stinking to high heaven.” She wrinkled her nose. “Shanille said they found the body in the lodge’s poo-poo pit.”

“It’s true,” I confirmed. “They found the body of that writer that went missing last year. Paulo Frey, remember? He used to stay at the lodge at least once a year, to write his bestsellers, and last year vanished without a trace.”

“So they found him, huh?” asked Dooley, licking his butt. All this talk about poo-poo had apparently inspired him to have a taste of his own poo-poo pit. What can I say? Us cats are a very suggestible bunch.

“So what happened? Did he commit suicide? Jump into the pit?” asked Harriet, her green eyes glittering with excitement. “Why would he do that?”

“Humans love poo-poo,” said Dooley wisely. “He must have wanted to take a bath in the stuff and accidentally drowned. It’s the latest craze.”

I stared at him.“What are you talking about?”

“The latest craze!” he repeated. “Out in Hollywood they take baths in their own poo-poo now. It’s supposed to rejuvenate the skin. And that’s not the only thing. They even drink their own pee-pee,” he added knowingly. “First thing in the morning. It’s like a tonic or something. Juice of life stuff.”

“That’s crazy talk,” I said. “Nobody takes a bath in their own poo-poo, except maybe for pigs, but that’s just because they don’t know any better.”

“Duh. Pigs are dumb,” said Harriet. “Everybody knows that.”

Yes, I know. We’re not averse to pig shaming. Sue us.

“No, I’m telling you, Max. It’s a real thing,” said Dooley. “Celebs smear their own poop on their faces all the time. It’s been on that website POOP.”

“GOOP,” Harriet corrected. “Not POOP, Dooley. GOOP.”

Gwyneth Paltrow’s website was a hit with Hampton Covians as she was a local girl done good. I’d never met her, as she spent most of her time in Amagansett, but I was a fan, and so were all the other cats. Her site often featured articles on what cats are thinking. Rubbish, of course, but very droll.

“I’m pretty sure Gwyneth would never propagate something silly like smearing poop on your face,” I said, though maybe she would. The things that celebrities did to stay young was frankly amazing.

“It’s a thing,” Dooley insisted, giving his butthole another lick.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Paulo Frey didn’t take a bath in his own poop. He was killed and then his body was dumped in there so nobody would find out. At least that’s what the police think. Since they also found his laptop in there, and all his belongings.” I cocked an eye at Dooley. “If he wanted to take a poop bath, would he have jumped in with his laptop?”

Dooley shrugged.“Maybe he wanted to take notes while he was doing it? Writers are crazy, buddy. Maybe he was researching the perfect murder, decided to try out this poo thing for himself and got in way over his head.”

Harriet laughed.“That’s actually funny, Dooley. Way over his head.”

Dooley gave her a blank stare. He obviously didn’t get his own pun.

Dooley was right, though. Writers were a little crazy. Year after year they came to the Writer’s Lodge to hatch up their harebrained plots, roaming the woods muttering to themselves, or soaking in the Jacuzzi Hetta had installed for their benefit, staring up at the sky and begging the gods of creativity to help them out when they got stuck again. So yeah, they were a crazy bunch, but not so crazy to jump into the toilet with all of their belongings, almost as if they were jumping into a Hot Tub Time Machine, hoping to be transported to another time and place. No, this case had the stench of foul play all over it.

“He was killed,” I said adamantly. “The Chief is sure of it. Now all he needs is cause and time of death, which the medical examiner will hopefully figure out from what’s left of the body, and he can start his investigation.”

“Who’s running the investigation?” asked Harriet. “Is it true that Chief Alec is handing it to the dreamboat?”

“How do you even know about that?” I asked. I was starting to wonder if all my snooping around the police office was even necessary. If Harriet could find out as much as I had simply by talking to other cats, what was the point?

“Well, it’s only common sense,” she said. “Chase used to be NYPD, after all, so what better person to run a murder investigation than him, right?”

“Yeah, what about that?” asked Dooley, nodding. “A genuine NYPD cop. How cool is that, huh?”

“Way cool,” Harriet agreed with a grin.

“If he’s so cool, what is he doing here?” I asked. “Why didn’t he simply stay in New York with the big boys?” It was a question that begged asking. If this hotshot detective was so cool, why choose to bury himself in a small town like Hampton Cove, where the homicide rate was probably close to zero?

Harriet stared at me.“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“Well, he was fired.”

“Fired! But why?” Now this was news. If I’d known this before, I could have told Odelia. Make sure she didn’t do something stupid like fall for him.

Harriet slowly and methodically started licking her paw and then rubbing it across her face.“Gross misconduct. At least that’s what Shanille said, who heard it from Trudy, Lora Escort’s cat, who’d read it in theNew York Post.”

“That’s impossible,” I scoffed. “If Chase Kingsley was fired for gross misconduct, he would never be able to work as a cop again, not even in Hampton Cove. No,” I mused, “it must be something else.”

“Shanille was pretty adamant. And you know tabloids never lie.”

“Right. They wouldn’t dare,” I said. Could it be? Could Chase have been a bad boy? Why else would he accept a job here? Not for the excitement. Unless riding around on a dune buggy was Chase’s idea of excitement.

“What’s gross misconduct?” asked Dooley. “I mean, is it really gross?”

“Something about the wife of a suspect,” said Harriet. “She claims Chase molested her during an interrogation, so she filed charges against him. He was consequently suspended pending an investigation, and eventually forced to hand in his gun and badge, his employment effectively terminated.”

I stared at her.“He was discharged for molestation and you still think he’s a dreamboat?”

“I don’t believe it, all right?” she said, holding up her paw, then continuing to groom the left side of her face. “I’m sure he was framed.”

“Framed?” I asked, incredulous.

“It happens all the time. Supercop gets framed. At least that’s what Brutus says and I happen to believe him.”

“Brutus says his human was framed,” I said blankly. Now I’d heard it all.

“Yes, he did. He said he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, and so they set him up to destroy his credibility. It happens all the time,” she added when she caught my dubious look. “Successful people often get a lot of flak. And I’m sure this woman who accused him must have perjured herself.”

“Ouch. That must have hurt,” said Dooley.

“Perjured, Dooley,” I said automatically. “Not injured.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, go away,” I muttered, thinking hard. This changed matters entirely. If this was true, and I didn’t doubt it since Brutus himself had confirmed the story, Odelia had to be warned. I was sure that once she found out she’d never want to come near the guy. Which solved the Brutus situationnicely.

“I’m telling Odelia,” I said. “She needs to know who she’s dealing with.”

Harriet sighed.“I was afraid of this. Can’t you just let it go, Max?”

“Let it go! Are you nuts?!”

“Why can’t you just give Odelia a shot at real happiness? I’m sure that she and Chase are simply made for each other. Two beautiful people like that? It’s a match made in heaven. The moment they walk down the aisle together, we’ll all be family.” She sighed again, wistfully this time. “You, me, Dooley… Brutus… just one big, happy, family.”

“One big happy family with Brutus? I don’t think so!” I cried. “The cat kicked me out of the police station! Actually forbade me to even go there. How can I do my job if I can’t even eavesdrop on the Chief? It’s an outrage!”

“He was only doing his duty,” said Harriet a little stiffly. It was obvious that nothing could convince her that Brutus, and by extension Chase Kingsley, were bad news.

“You can’t still like that cat,” I said, outraged. “He actually threatened me with violence if I ever come near the police station again. Violence!”

Which, now that I knew what kind of guy Chase was, wasn’t surprising.

“That’s wasn’t very nice,” Dooley said, with a tentative look at Harriet.

But Harriet wasn’t convinced. “I’m sure he simply feels he’s doing his duty, Max. If only more cats were like Brutus, the world would be a better, safer place.”

“The world would be a Nazi prison camp and Brutus would run it,” I said, shaking my head. I simply couldn’t understand how she could still defend that cat. He was a menace to our community. “I think we should all get together and take a vote,” I said now. “Have Brutus expelled. We simply cannot allow him to come here and try to take over. A line has been crossed.”

“You’re simply jealous,” Harriet challenged.

“Jealous!” I cried. “Of that clown! As if! All I’m doing is protecting my human from a terrible fate. Is that so wrong?”

“No, you’re doing the right thing, Max,” said Dooley, who was still casting anxious glances at Harriet, whom he obviously seemed to consider the real authority here, and not me, which offended me to some extent. But then Dooley had always drooled over Harriet ever since the three of us met, many years ago. His attempts at wooing her have always failed, though. Harriet doesn’t like just any cat. It takes a special cat to touch her heart, and apparently in Brutus she’d found just such a cat.

A horrible thought entered my mind.“You’re not thinking of getting together with Brutus, are you?” I asked, horrified. The thought of a litter of little Brutuses was too much to bear.

She gave me a dark look.“Please, Max. You know they… fixed me,” she added in hushed tones. The disgrace of being spayed still weighed heavy on her. Before, she’d been able to produce a sizable litter a couple of times a year, but then Odelia’s mom had taken matters into her own hands and had her fixed. The same way Odelia had had me neutered and Gran had had Dooley neutered as well. I loved my human, and so did Dooley and Harriet, but it was almost as if they didn’t want more cats brought into this world. As if they didn’t enjoy the sight of a litter full of little kittens, gamboling about.

Except for little Brutuses. I drew the line firmly at a litter of Brutuses.

“I think we should continue this investigation ourselves,” I now said, deciding to change the subject. “If it’s true that Chase was dishonorably discharged from the NYPD, I can’t imagine he’s fit to lead this investigation.”

“So we do it ourselves?” asked Dooley excitedly.

“We do it ourselves,” I confirmed. “We catch that killer.”

“I don’t know, Max,” said Harriet dubiously. “Do you think we’re up for it? I mean, we’ve never done anything like this before. It might be dangerous.”

“We owe it to Hampton Cove to catch any killer that might be lurking in our community,” I said solemnly. “And we need to make sure that the Writer’s Lodge is once again safe for writers to scribble their horrible drivel.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” said Harriet pensively.

“Do you really think writers are going to avoid the Writer’s Lodge as long as that killer isn’t caught?” asked Dooley.

“I’m sure no writer wants to take up residence at a lodge where only recently one of his kind has been gruesomely murdered. At least not as long as the killer is still lurking out in those woods, looking for another victim.”

“Stephen King might like it,” Dooley said. “It might give him inspiration for another one of his horror stories.”

“Yes,” I amended, “Stephen King might like it.”

“Or George R. R. Martin,” Harriet said. “He’d probably love the idea of a writer being whacked in his favorite writing environment. I’m sure he’d get a kick out of it, and it might even induce him to speed up his writing.”

“Yes, George might get a kick out of it, too,” I agreed.

“And what about J.K. Rowling?” asked Dooley. “She loves a good horror story. Ooh! Maybe Voldemort killed Paulo Frey! Back from the dead!”

“Right. As if a fictional character can really kill a writer,” I said. “All right. I’ll concede that there are certain writers that wouldn’t mind staying at a lodge where a writer was killed, but apart from those few, I’m sure most writers will think twice before selecting the Writer’s Lodge as their next destination. Which means Hetta Fried stands to lose her livelihood, and Hampton Cove a time-honored tradition of hosting famous celebrity writers.”

“And the liquor store a great deal of business,” Dooley added.

He was right. A lot of these writers liked to raid the liquor store before starting a new book. Copious amounts of alcohol were apparently a surefire way of beating writer’s block, or at least they liked to think so.

“I feel it is our sacred duty as residents of Hampton Cove to find out who killed Paulo Frey and bring them to justice,” I said, pumping up my chest.

“I agree. Let’s find ourselves a killer,” Harriet said, momentarily halting her grooming efforts—it takes a lot of work to keep that snowy white fur looking as perfectly fluffy and clean as hers does. She held up her paw.

I placed my own blorange paw against hers, and Dooley raised his.

“We solemnly swear to catch a killer and bring him or her to justice,” we all intoned, and then let go, satisfied we’d made a momentous pledge.

“So when do we start?” asked Dooley.

“Tonight,” I said, yawning. I needed my beauty sleep. It had been too long since I got some shuteye and I was starting to feel a serious nap coming on.

“Yes,” Harriet agreed. “Let’s take a long nap and meet up tonight.”

And showing she wasn’t joking, she immediately trotted off in the direction of her own yard, stared after by Dooley and me.

“Um, can I sleep in your crib, buddy?” asked Dooley.

“Why? Don’t you have enough space over at your place?”

Dooley gave me a hesitant look.“It’s not that. It’s just that…”

“Spit it out, man. What is it? Did Harriet take all the best spots again?”

He nodded sheepishly. That was the trouble when you lived in the same house as a Persian. They liked to think they were lord of the manor. Queen of the castle. Ruler of the realm. Reducing all others to playing second fiddle.

“Sure,” I said. “You can sleep on my couch today. Now let’s get our eighteen hours in before we go and catch ourselves a killer.”

Chapter 6

The moment Odelia returned to the newspaper, she drew up a list of people to interview. She wanted not just to solve this murder, but to write a series of articles that would have Hampton Covians sticking to their newspapers like glue, reading with rapt attention as their intrepid reporter led them, clue by clue, to the revelation of the identity of the killer who’d snuffed out one of their own. Well, technically Paulo Frey hadn’t been one of their own, of course. He was a New Yorker who spent a couple of weeks a year out here, but still, since Hampton Cove was a tourist town, tourists were as much a part of the community as the locals who lived here year-round.

Besides, even in the heart of winter tourists stayed in town, as the tourist board had added a couple of winter events to the schedule, in hopes of making the town more attractive when the weather turned inclement.

They organized a Winterfest now, and a Christmas market with an ice rink. It worked, for even in winter tourists made their way out here, though of course not as many as when the sun was out, and the beaches were full of people cavorting in the surf and enjoying all-night parties on the beach.

The only one who didn’t care for the new winter activities was Chief Alec, who now had to round up drunk revelers all year, and not just during the summer.

“So? Got yourself a genuine murder case, huh?” Dan asked, leaning against the doorjamb. He was sipping from his umpteenth cup of coffee and looked genuinely excited, as excited as she was feeling herself. He was a shortish man in his late sixties, with an impressive white beard and plenty of laugh wrinkles around his eyes, which always seemed to twinkle with delight.

“Yup. This is the big one, Dan. Famous bestselling writer gets whacked and dumped in the can. This is going to get national headlines, I’m sure.”

“Do they have a suspect?” asked the veteran editor.

“Not yet. Uncle Alec is putting Chase Kingsley in charge.”

This caused the editor’s bushy brows to wiggle with surprise. “Chase Kingsley? The new guy?”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be this hotshot detective from New York. Apparently he used to work for the NYPD, so he’s well qualified.”

“Used to work being the operative word,” said the editor.

She stared at him.“What do you mean?”

All she knew about the guy was that he had an annoying cat, and that he seemed to hate reporters. Or it could be that he just hated her, of course.

Dan looked over his shoulder, as if fully expecting Detective Kingsley to have walked into the office to eavesdrop on their private conversation.

“What I’ve heard is that Chase Kingsley didn’t quit the NYPD but was forced out.” He lowered his brows and grumbled in a low voice, “Fired for gross misconduct is what I heard. Molestation of a suspect’s wife.”

“Molestation!” she cried, her jaw dropping. “No way!”

He shook his head sadly.“All I know is what was printed in thePost.”

“ThePost?” she asked, reaching for her laptop. This she had to see.

“Stacy Brown got it from Lora Escort, who read it in the paper a couple of months ago and remembered the name. I doubt that Alec even knows about this, otherwise he probably would never have hired him in the first place.” His voice took on a grave tone. “If the rumors are true he actually molested the wife of a suspect while the guy was in custody, and she pressed charges against him, apparently not too keen on being manhandled by a cop.”

She stared at the editor, fully aghast.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dan shrugged.“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“But why would Uncle Alec hire a guy like that?”

“Like I said, he probably doesn’t even know about it.”

“That’s impossible. Nobody hires a cop without checking his credentials.”

“Maybe he lied on his resume.”

“I find it hard to believe Uncle Alec wouldn’t check his references. The NYPD is only a phone call away. No, I’m sure he knows about Chase Kingsley’s past and simply chose to ignore it.” She frowned. “But why?”

“Beats me. I just know that that uncle of yours has got a really big heart, Odelia. Maybe he felt sorry for the guy? Hell, I’m not saying he’s not a good cop. Everyone seems to agree he was one hell of a detective. But with a thing like that hanging over his head, his chances of ever working as a cop again were slim to nonexistent.”

“Except in Hampton Cove.” If she hadn’t been furious with him before, she was furious now. Molestation charges were not to be taken lightly.

“Except in Hampton Cove, apparently,” Dan agreed with a nod.

“I have to talk to Uncle Alec about this. We can’t have a man like that working for the HCPD. Especially with the entire town knowing about his sordid past. How can he expect to assume a position of authority?”

“Well, we don’t know if the allegations are true, Odelia. For all we know the charges were unfounded and he was forced out anyway.”

“I don’t think the NYPD would let him go if the charges were unfounded,” she argued. “No, this is serious stuff, Dan. If this is true, we can’t have a man like that working as a police officer in our town.”

“You better have that talk with your Uncle Alec. Thresh this thing out once and for all.” He grinned at her. “So now you’ve got yourself two stories to dig into, huh? A murder and a bad cop. This is your lucky day, honey.”

Chapter 7

Ten minutes later, she waltzed into her dad’s medical practice again, and walked straight up to the desk. Gran, who’d been playing Scrabble online, eyed her disapprovingly. She didn’t like being interrupted when she was on a winning streak. “I told you. I’m fine. It was just a stomach bug. I’m all right.”

“Good to know,” she said, panting slightly. “Is Rohanna still here?”

Gran raised her eyebrows, then gestured with her head to one of the examination rooms.“In there. What do you want with her?”

Odelia dropped her voice to a whisper.“There’s been a murder, and I’m writing the story. Remember that writer who disappeared last year?”

“That nutcase?” asked Gran, making no effort to lower her voice.

“Yeah, that nutcase,” she whispered. “Well, he didn’t disappear. He was murdered. They just dredged up his body from the Writer’s Lodge outhouse.”

“You don’t say,” said Gran, licking her lips with obvious glee. “And you think Rohanna did it?”

“No, I don’t. But I remember she also works for Hetta, keeping the Writer’s Lodge clean. So I just figured she might be a good place to start my investigation. Maybe she saw something or remembers something.”

“I highly doubt it,” said Gran, pursing her lips. “The woman is batty.”

“Why do you think she’s batty?” she asked after a pause. Gran sometimes had a habit of judging people too harshly, and being very vocal about it.

“Because she keeps singing to herself, that’s why. I caught her at it a couple of times.” She leaned closer, but still spoke loud enough so that everyone in the waiting room could hear her. “She sings to herself and wiggles that enormous butt of hers while she works. Can you believe it?”

Odelia smiled.“Plenty of people sing while they work, Gran.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“It’s because you have to answer the phone, and talk to people. Rohanna listens to music and sings along just to make the work go faster.”

“I’m telling you, the woman is batty. Either you work, or you shake your ass. You can’t do both, unless you’re an exotic dancer, and trust me, no one is going to pay good money to watch Rohanna Coral strip and hug a pole.”

“Gran!”

“What? It’s true.”

Shaking her head, Odelia went in search of Rohanna. She checked examination room number two, which served as a backup in case Dad’s workload became too much, and he called in the assistance of a colleague from one of the neighboring towns. She found Rohanna, earbuds in her ears, softly humming along with the music, shaking her tush, just like Gran said.

She was a large woman, and had a considerable tush to shake around, that was true enough, though Odelia didn’t see anything wrong with a woman enjoying her work. She tried to catch Rohanna’s attention, and finally walked up to her and gave her a tap on the shoulder. Rohanna removed the earbuds and eyed her askance, as if to say, ‘Whaddya want?’

“Hey, Rohanna,” she said. “Sorry to trouble you, but could I ask you a couple of questions about Paulo Frey and the Writer’s Lodge?”

If the name was familiar to the cleaning lady, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she frowned and asked, “Who?”

“Paulo Frey? He was one of the writers who used to stay at the Writer’s Lodge. One of the regulars. He disappeared last year.”

Her frown deepened. It was obvious she didn’t like to be interrupted while working. Or perhaps her favorite song had been on, and she hated to miss the opportunity to sing along. “I remember him,” she finally said. “Isn’t he the skinny one who writes those gruesome thrillers?”

“He was a thriller writer,” she confirmed. Whether he was skinny was up for debate. Judging from the pictures she’d googled he looked pretty average.

“What about him? Did he finally decide to show up again?”

“Well, he did show up,” she said, wondering how to break the news gently. “Um, Rohanna, you might want to sit down for this.” She gestured at one of the chairs and Rohanna, shaking her head and clearly not happy about this, did as she was told.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

In a few carefully chosen words she explained that the police had fished the body of Paulo Frey out of the cesspit, and Rohanna was understandably shaken. She placed a hand on her voluminous chest, which was heaving dangerously.“Dead?” she cried, her voice rising. “He’s dead? But how?”

“He was murdered, Rohanna,” she said gently. “Someone murdered him and tried to hide the body.”

“Oh, my God,” she said, her face a mask of distress. “He was such a nice man. A great tipper. Used to leave me a sizable tip at the end of his stay. Said I was the best, on account of the fact that I always left a bottle of bourbon on his pillow when he arrived. Hetta wants me to leave chocolates, and I usually do, but Paulo told me the first year he hated chocolate. So I always left him one of those small bottles of bourbon.”

“I see,” she said. “So he was fond of drink, huh?”

But Rohanna wasn’t listening. She shook her head. “He was always full of stories and jokes. A real live wire. Whenever I was down at the lodge he used to tell me stories of his writing career. The most hilarious stuff. He once told me he had dinner with the President and the First Lady at the White House, and he and the President got drunk and decided to play golf on the White House lawn. In the middle of the night!” She looked up at Odelia. “Whodunit, Miss Poole? You tell me whodunit and I’ll kill the bastard.”

“They don’t know yet. The police only found the body yesterday.”

“How?”

Odelia explained about the laptop, and Rohanna nodded.“He was crazy about that laptop. It contained all of his manuscripts. All of his precious books. His entire life’s work. He never went anywhere without that laptop. It would have been impossible for that laptop to be down there and not…” She swallowed with difficulty, tears suddenly flooding her eyes, and broke off.

“It’s all right, Rohanna,” Odelia said, dragging a few paper tissues from the dispenser on her father’s desk and handing them to the woman. As soon as she’d wiped her eyes, she gently asked, “I want you to think hard. Do you know if Paulo had any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt him?”

Rohanna shook her head in dismay, then finally choked out,“All I remember is that one day he told me about his feud with Aissa Spring.”

“Aissa Spring of the No Spring Chicks vegan restaurant?”

“That’s the one. He used to go there for dinner sometimes. Until he discovered that Aissa…” She raised her eyes to meet Odelia’s. “That she’s a lesbian.”

She frowned. Aissa Spring lived together with her girlfriend Marissa. Together they ran a vegetarian restaurant right on the main drag. The two women had been together for ages, and very happily so.

“What are you saying? That Frey had a thing against lesbians?”

“You better ask Aissa about it,” she said, loudly blowing her nose. “But from what he told me, he didn’t like gays. At all. Which was a little weird for a writer of his stature.”

Yes, that was a little weird. She now realized she didn’t know all that much about Paulo Frey. Apart from the fact that he was a million-selling writer of thrillers, the guy was a mystery to her.

“Thanks, Rohanna. I’ll go and have a word with Aissa.”

“You do that, and nail the bastard that did this.”

Before she left the room, she turned and said,“Oh, the police will probably want to have a word with you as well.”

Rohanna nodded.“I’ll tell Chief Alec the same thing I told you.”

“It won’t be my uncle. Chase Kingsley is in charge of the investigation.”

Rohanna’s eyes lit up. “Chase Kingsley? That hottie?”

Odelia grimaced.“Yes, the hottie.”

“Oh, he can interrogate me anytime,” said Rohanna, her distress over Paulo Frey’s murder quickly making way for a different emotion altogether.

She managed to give Rohanna a grimace at this, thinking hard thoughts about‘the hottie.’ She needed to get to the bottom of that story, too, and as soon as she revealed that Chase Kingsley was a notorious molester of women, she was pretty sure people like Rohanna would think differently of him.

But first things first. She needed to talk to Aissa Spring. She was the first person who might have a motive for murder. And she was just passing through the corridor on her way to the waiting room, when she bumped into her father, emerging from the examination room with a patient in tow.

“Oh, hey, honey,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “If you came to check up on your grandmother, she’s fine. I tried to give her a checkup this morning and she brushed me off, insisting she was in greater shape than me!”

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a smile. “She’s probably in better shape than all of us.”

Her father was a big and bluff man, and well-liked by all of his patients. He had a knack for putting anyone at ease in a matter of seconds, and often only needed a glance to know what was ailing his patients. They were two qualities that partly explained his popularity as Hampton Cove’s premier doctor. The fact that he was also the town’s only doctor was another reason.

“See you tonight?” he asked now.

“Yes, Dad,” she said, briefly wondering whether to tell him about the murder but quickly deciding against it. They could discuss it over dinner.

“Your mother invited a guest,” he said as he waved the next patient in.

“A guest?” she asked. “You mean Uncle Alec?”

“Yeah, Alec is coming, and he’s bringing one of his colleagues,” her father said as he walked into his office. Before he closed the door, he frowned. “What was his name again…” Then his face cleared. “Oh, that’s right. Chase Kingsley. A new cop. See you later, honey.” And then he closed the door and she was left staring at it, a look of abject horror written all over her features.

Chapter 8

I was still feeling a little groggy and unsteady on my paws. Usually I like to take my eighteen hours of sleep in one long stretch, interspersed with the occasional run to the litter box and the feeding trough. Today, though, I was a cat on a mission, so I’d decided to cut my nap time short and head downtown to see what I could find out about the case of the murdered writer.

I never followed a strict plan on these trips of mine but simply went where my paws took me. I had my regular haunts, of course. Places where I knew I could find the best information. Like the barber shop, or the doctor’s office, or the police station. For some strange reason I always happened to be in the right place at the right time. Call it cat’s intuition. It’s a very powerful thing, let me tell you. And I’d just wandered out into the street, when Dooley fell into step beside me, looking even more haggard than I was feeling.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as we trundled along the sidewalk.

“Duty calls, Dooley,” I said a little solemnly. “You simply can’t wait around for the next clue to arrive on its own. A genuine detective goes out there, into the great unknown, and hunts the clues where he can find them.”

Dooley yawned.“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep either. All this stuff about Brutus and that gruesome poo-poo murder got me wondering about my mortality.”

I stared at the cat. I never would have guessed that Dooley even knew the word‘mortality’ let alone pondered about his own perishability. In fact I’d never known him to worry about anything, except when Marge, Odelia’s mom, dished out the wrong kind of kibble. Dooley likes chicken, but Marge tends to forget, and buys him one of those twenty-pound bags of fish kibble which then he has to eat, because she hates to throw away perfectly good kibble. What can I say? We all have our predilections and peculiarities.

“Do you really think Brutus is going to move in with us and lay down the law?” he now asked.

“I think the odds are not in our favor,” I confirmed. “Chase Kingsley is a very handsome male, and Odelia an attractive female. What’s more, they’re both young and single, and live in a town with a limited supply of eligible bachelors. And if I know something about human nature, it’s that eligible bachelors are prone to mate, and when they do, they tend to make babies and get married and move in together, at which point they bring their cats along.”

Dooley shook his head sadly. It was obvious he wasn’t liking this. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Harriet, because she seems to like this Brutus character, but I honestly fear for our lives when Brutus moves in.”

I looked up in surprise.“Fear for our lives? What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. This Brutus strikes me as the kind of cat who doesn’t like competition in the home. I’m pretty sure that once he moves in he’s going to want to make us disappear. If you know what I mean.”

“You’re saying he’s gonna want to kill us?”

“You, me, and maybe even Harriet when she doesn’t do what he says. Cats like that want to rule supreme, Max. They’re like the evil stepchild who tries to kill their stepsiblings once they’ve taken up position in the home.”

“You mean like Damien inThe Omen?” I asked, remembering the horror movie marathon Odelia had us sit through the other night. Harriet, Dooley and I had been scared stiff the entire time, but Odelia had loved the story of Satan’s spawn. She loved a good horror movie, while the three of us preferred to watchGarfield. OrFinding Nemo. I never get tired of watching those fishes in that fish tank.Finding Dory was even better. Much bigger tank.

“Well, more likeThe Good Son,” said Dooley after a moment’s deliberation. After a lifetime spent with Odelia, he knew his horror classics better than me.

“I don’t think Brutus is going to kill us,” I said thoughtfully.

“And I’m sure he is. He’s going to strike when we’re all sleeping safely in our beds.”

I shivered. Maybe Dooley was right. Brutus was capable of anything. Now, more than ever, I was convinced we needed to figure out a way to make Odelia see what kind of a man Chase Kingsley really was. If we could convince her he was a genuine menace, we could avert the Brutus disaster.

And it was as we were crossing the street, wondering where to go next, that I saw Chase Kingsley enter the doctor’s office. I nudged Dooley. “Speak of the devil. It’s him!”

“Great!” said Dooley, his dejected air quickly giving way to excitement. “Do you think we’ll find some more damaging stuff about the guy?”

“One can only hope,” I said, and we quickly made our way down the narrow alleyway that divides the doctor’s office from Jeremiah Downer’s hardware store. We hopped over a pile of plastic garbage bags, and then onto a couple of trash cans, a dumpster and straight onto the windowsill of Tex Poole’s consultation room. I felt pumped. Now we were going to find out what really made Chase Kingsley tick. In all my years in Hampton Cove I’d never been able to glean more about the local populace than by eavesdropping on the good Dr. Poole while he was examining his patients.

You’d be surprised what people tell their doctor, knowing he’s not allowed to talk about their secrets with another soul, due to something called the doctor-patient privilege. Good thing those silly rules don’t apply to cats.

Dooley and I both peered into the window, and saw that Chase had already been led into the examination room and had taken a seat across from Odelia’s father. He was lucky to arrive when there were no other patients.

“My dear young man,” Tex said cheerfully as he took a seat and smiled widely at his new patient. “Tell me, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you probably don’t know me, Doc,” Chase said.

“Nonsense,” said Tex. “You’re that new cop, aren’t you? The one my brother-in-law speaks so highly of. Detective Chase Kingsley?”

Chase seemed surprised, though he shouldn’t have been. Nothing remained a secret very long in Hampton Cove. And definitely not the arrival in town of a new cop.

He eyed the doctor a little wearily.“Um… What else did Alec tell you?”

“Oh, that you are a valuable addition to our police force, that’s all,” said Tex amiably as he leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “We can definitely use a good man like you, Detective. There might not be a lot of crime in this town, but tourism is increasing by leaps and bounds, and trust me when I tell you that those whippersnappers are capable of a lot of mischief.”

“Yeah, Alec told me,” said Chase with a grimace. He leaned forward and appeared a little flustered. “Listen, Doc, um, the reason I’m here is because, well, I need a new prescription since I’m all out of meds.” At this, he placed a piece of paper on the desk between the two men.

“And what prescription would that be?” Tex asked, snapping up the piece of paper and placing a pair of glasses on his nose to give it a closer look.

I pricked up my ears and so did Dooley. I was pretty sure we were on the verge of discovering yet another damning secret about Chase Kingsley. One that would permanently turn Odelia against him.

Tex was still frowning at the slip of paper, then placed it on his blotter.“You having trouble sleeping, son?”

“Amongst other things,” Chase admitted. “My doc in New York gave me those to take the edge off and to help me sleep. I…” He hesitated.

“Anxiety attacks can be extremely debilitating,” Tex said with a nod as he placed his glasses on his desk. “Especially in your line of work, Detective.”

Chase nodded morosely, then rubbed his face with his hands. Finally he looked up, and I saw he suddenly looked extremely tired.“I don’t know if…”

“Trust me, son,” said Tex with his deep, sonorous voice that had the effect to put his patients immediately at ease. His bedside manner was impeccable. “Whatever you tell me stays between us. You have my word on that.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true,” Dooley muttered next to me.

“The thing is, Doc, is that I find myself in a real quandary.”

“Oh? Does it have something to do with the mayor’s wife?”

Chase seemed surprised, and so was I. The mayor’s wife?

“I see that Alec told you the story already.”

“He did tell me a few things.”

“Then you also know that I was set up?” asked Chase.

“I’m afraid Alec didn’t go into a lot of detail. All he told me was that you ran afoul of the mayor’s wife, who launched a scandalous story about you in retaliation, which forced you out of the NYPD. He also told me that none of the rumors about you are true and that you’re a decent man and a great cop.”

Chase smiled.“Alec’s proven a true friend these last couple of months.”

“He was a friend of your father, right?”

“Yeah. They went to police academy together. In fact Alec’s my godfather, and when my dad died—killed in the line of duty—he kept dropping by the house occasionally, effectively becoming like a surrogate father. He’s one of the few people who know the truth about my resignation.” His lips thinned.

“If you want, you can tell me,” Tex offered. “Like I said, my lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, Doc. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone. If I could, I’d tell the whole world what happened, but that would get me into more trouble than it’s worth. The thing is…” He shuffled uncomfortably in his chair for a moment. “I had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A couple of months ago I was working a very sensitive case, reporting directly to the commissioner, when I happened to barge into his office one afternoon, to discover he wasn’t alone. Politely put, he was in a state of undress with the mayor’s wife. In fact they were all over each other.”

Tex barked out an incredulous laugh.“The mayor’s wife?”

“None other than Malka Putin,” Chase confirmed with a rueful smile. “And she wasn’t glad to see me, let me tell you that. I apologized for the intrusion, of course, but Mrs. Putin decided she couldn’t leave it at that. Even though the commissioner swore me to secrecy and I agreed, she wouldn’t let it go. I explained I wasn’t interested in spreading gossip about other people’s personal affairs, and that as far as I was concerned Mrs. Putin could do the horizontal mambo with whomever she chose, it was none of my business.”

“But Mrs. Putin wasn’t satisfied, I take it,” said Tex.

“Nope. She was afraid I’d talk. She’d heard stories about how cops like to gab, and she was sure that pretty soon the whole town would know about her affair with the commissioner, and then the entire country, and her husband, of course. So she convinced the commissioner to make sure I wouldn’t talk.”

“And he agreed?” asked Tex, surprised.

“I’m sorry to say he did. Worse. He convinced the wife of a suspect I had in custody to concoct some harassment story in exchange for leniency for her husband. He got off with a slap on the wrist, I got to hand in my gun and badge. He figured that if he smeared my name sufficiently nobody wouldlisten to me if I decided to talk about his affair with the mayor’s wife. People would simply think I did it out of spite, and he was right, of course.”

“But Alec believed you.”

“Alec has had my back from the beginning. He’s one of the only people I told the truth, and believed me. He’s stood by me all this time and even tried to talk some sense into the commissioner. Told him he had no right destroying the career of one of his finest just to protect the reputation of Malka Putin.”

“But the commissioner’s loyalty to Mrs. Putin outweighed his obligation toward one of his men. That’s a horrible story, Chase. A really terrible thing.”

“It’s taken over my life these last couple of months. My career gone down the drain, my colleagues avoiding me like the plague, and my chances of ever finding a job as a cop pretty much destroyed. So you see why I’ve had trouble sleeping. My doctor in New York gave me these pills and they’ve done wonders.”

“I see.” Tex toyed with the note for a moment, then said, “You know what? I’m going to do you a favor, Chase. I’m not going to give you a prescription. Instead I’m going to start a new rumor.”

“You’re going to do what?” asked Chase, his jaw dropping.

Tex chuckled.“This town is one big rumor mill, son. Everyone knows everyone around here, and people make it their business to butt into other people’s business all the time. Rumors travel so fast sometimes they overtake you on your way home. It’s happened that something happened to me on my way home and by the time I got there my wife already knew all about it!”

Chase still stared at him.“I don’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re not a Hampton Covian. Yet. I’m going to start the rumor that you were framed in this Malka Putin business, and that you’re a damn fine cop. I’m going to make it so that you’ll be treated like a genuine hero before I’m through, Chase. As it is, people down heredon’t like the mayor of New York or his wife much anyway. Trust me, you’re going to come out of this smelling of roses. This community is going to embrace you as one of their own, and you’ll be able to do your job as a police officer just fine.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Doc?”

The doctor displayed a toothy grin.“I’m going to say more. I’m going to say this is one of the best damn ideas I’ve ever had. And I’m going to add this will do you a hell of a lot more good than those damn pills, son. I’m sure before long you’ll feel right at home in this community. Hampton Covians are a weird bunch. They can be hostile to outsiders, even though this is a tourist town. They don’t easily take to strangers, but once they do, you’ll find they’re the warmest, kindest people you could ever hope to meet.” He gave the other man a smile that warmed my heart, and I could hear Dooley utter a sigh.

Chase nodded.“If you think this will work…”

“Leave it to me. My daughter happens to be a reporter for theHampton Cove Gazette and one of the best gossips this town has ever known. She takes after her grandmother that way. There’s not a single rumor she’s not aware of, and plenty she’s instigated herself. I don’t know how she does it, but she always seems to know everything about everybody and often before anyone else does. If she takes up your case, your worries are over, son.”

Chase looked thoughtful.“Your daughter, is she blond with green eyes?”

“That’s her. Have you met?”

He grimaced.“We have, and I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Nonsense,” said Tex. “No one can get off on the wrong foot with Odelia. She’s sweet as a kitten. Whatever little trouble you had will go away once you’ve sat down for dinner together. You are still coming to dinner, right?”

“Um…”

“Excellent. My wife told me how she told her brother to invite you.”

Chase rose, looking thoughtful. He appeared on the verge of saying something, but then decided against it.“Thanks, Doc. Thanks for listening.”

“Of course,” Tex said, clapping the other man on his broad back and leading him out. “Trust me, before long you and Odelia will get along great.”

Chase’s eyes darkened at the mention of the reporter, and I had the distinct impression he wasn’t as fond of her as Tex would have liked. Which was probably a good thing, as I didn’t want the two of them hooking up. Still, the conversation had definitely made me see Chase in a whole new light. Theguy wasn’t so bad after all. The only thing I now held against him was his lousy taste in cats, but that wasn’t something he could be faulted for. Humans are easily deceived, especially the ones who can’t communicate with us.

Dooley and I shared a look.“That changes everything, doesn’t it?” I said.

“Sure does,” Dooley agreed.

“Just goes to show you can’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

“I knew he was a good guy. I just knew it.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought he was bad news. We all did.”

“Well, it still doesn’t make the prospect of Brutus coming to live with us any better,” Dooley said as we hopped down from the windowsill and started padding toward the front of the building again.

“Didn’t you hear the guy? He and Odelia hate each other’s guts.”

“Oh. Right. So that’s a good thing, huh?”

“That’s a great thing. It’s probably one of those instant enmities.”

“Instant enemas?”

I heaved a sigh.“What’s with the poo fixation?”

“Huh?”

“Enmity, not enema. It’s like instant attraction but the other way around.”

He still looked puzzled.“Uh-huh.”

“It happens. And a good thing, too.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes, then Dooley asked,“Are you sure about those enemas? Chase Kingsley didn’t strike me as constipated.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. God, please kill me now.

Chapter 9

Odelia quickly made her way over to the No Spring Chicks restaurant. She walked in and immediately crossed to the kitchen, where she knew she’d find Aissa. Even though the restaurant was doing great, and Aissa nor Marissa had to slave behind the stove anymore but now had a chef to do the heavy lifting, Aissa still liked to stick around keeping an eye on things. At this time she could usually be found experimenting with new recipes andadding those to the menu, while Marissa was holed up in the small office in the back, going over the books. She was the money person, while Aissa was more the creative and culinary genius.

She found Aissa in the big walk-in freezer, instructing the delivery man where to stash the fresh produce. She looked up when Odelia entered.

“Hey, hon,” she said. “If you’re here for a reservation I’m sorry to say we’re fully booked tonight. Though I could always squeeze you in around eleven, if you’re up for a later dinner.”

“That’s all right. I’m having dinner at my parents’ place tonight.”

“Nothing beats a home-cooked meal,” said Aissa blithely as she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out of the freezer. She was a stickler for detail, which was one of the reasons No Spring Chicks was such a hit.

A short plump woman with a black bob, she reminded Odelia of the women manning the cafeteria counter at Hampton Cove High, who’d always been ready to ladle extra gravy onto her hash browns and provide her with an extra dollop of creamy mashed potatoes.

“So what can I do for you?” asked Aissa, and then her eyes fell on the notebook Odelia was clutching in her hand. “Oh, official business, huh?” Her eyes lit up. “You’re doing another story on No Spring Chicks? That’s great! Last time you did one, our reservations tripled, so keep it coming, hon.”

“Well, actually I’m doing a piece on the murder of Paulo Frey,” she said.

The smile instantly vanished from Aissa’s face as if wiped away with a squeegee. “Yeah, I heard about that. Found him in the crapper, huh?”

She grimaced.“I take it he wasn’t your favorite person in the world?”

“Not really. In fact it’s safe to say Marissa and I kinda hated the guy.”

At least she wasn’t holding back, Odelia thought. “And why was that?”

Aissa led her through the kitchen and into the restaurant, where they took a seat at a table near the window. The place was still empty, as preparations for lunch were yet to begin.“Well, I actually liked the guy at first. When I heard he took the Writer’s Lodge, Marissa and I were excited. We’d both been reading him for years. I mean, he wrote some great books.”

“I know. I’ve read some of his stuff. The guy could write a mean thriller.”

“The operative word is mean,” said Aissa, cocking an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“He had a real mean streak. It’s not something I was aware of at the time, and you certainly wouldn’t have known from his books, but Paulo Frey was a homophobe. That guy simply hated gays with a vengeance. When he discovered me and Marissa were an item, he blew a gasket. Made a scene right here in the middle of the restaurant, the place full of diners. Said we were a disgrace to humankind, and that he’d never set foot in here again, and invited everyone else to follow his example and walk out as well.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It was horrible. For a moment we both feared that everyone would do as he said, but luckily nobody seemed to care that their food was being prepared by two women who happened to be in love. So when he saw that his little temper tantrum was met with eye rolls and shrugs, he stomped out, vowing to destroy us and all of our kind before he was through.”

“A real hater, huh? Who would have thought?”

“It blew us away. How such a vile man could write such great books…”

“So what happened then?”

She waved her hand.“He started spreading rumors around town that our food was poisoned, and that we were the worst cooks in the world. He even called the Food Safety and Inspection people on us. Twice. Luckily we run a clean ship around here, and they didn’t shut us down.”

“I wonder why I never heard about this?”

“Probably because none of the locals bought his crap. He was trying to rile up the tourist crowd, and doing a damn good job, for our business effectively started to slow down. Which is when we talked to your uncle.”

“And he put a stop to the nonsense.”

“That wonderful man drove straight up to the Writer’s Lodge and told Frey that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again he’d personally drive him out of town.”

“Tarred and feathered?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” laughed Aissa. “I don’t know what else he said, but it did the trick. The rumors stopped, and the customers returned.”

“Except Paulo Frey.”

“He wouldn’t have been welcome here anyway. Not after what he put us through. That man is a vile monster. Or at least he was,” she said, sobered when she remembered the reason for this interview.

“I can understand how you felt that way,” said Odelia, jotting down notes.

“And I wasn’t the only one either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard later that he did the same thing to Gabby Cleret.”

“The actress?”

Aissa nodded.“Drove her to a nervous breakdown.”

Before Odelia could get into this, suddenly a shadow loomed over them.

“Aissa Spring?” the new arrival asked. And when she looked up, Odelia couldn’t help but notice that the newcomer was giving her a nasty look.

“That’s me,” said Aissa. “And you are?”

“Detective Chase Kingsley,” Chase said, producing a shiny new badge. “Hampton Cove Police. Can I have a word? When you’re quite finished with Miss Poole, that is.” At this, he gave Odelia another of his trademark scowls.

Aissa grinned.“My sordid past is finally catching up with me, huh?”

Odelia laughed.“Don’t worry, hon. Your sordid past is safe with me.” She didn’t know why she said that, but she suddenly felt like protecting Aissa against this overbearing policeman. As he apparently had a history of violence against female suspects, she felt she needed to stay put and make sure nothing happened. So she returned Chase’s scowl and added some heat. “It’s not because Aissa had a dispute with Frey that she’s automatically guilty, Detective.”

“Oh, I see you’ve decided to become a homicide detective now,” he said, gritting his teeth. He was still towering over them, blocking out the sun.

She got up and walked up to the man.“I’m simply doing my job as a reporter,” she said, going toe-to-toe with him. But since he had at least a foot on her, she had to crane her neck, which wasn’t helping. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a very powerful cologne that assaulted her senses. Only now did she become aware of his overpowering masculinity.

Why hadn’t she noticed this in Uncle Alec’s office? Probably because she hadn’t been quite this close to him. He was staring down at her, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, his granite face implacable, his battering ram of a chin even more impressive up close and personal. Detective Kingsley was a bad, bad man, and she owed it to Hampton Cove to expose him, but he was also a very attractive man, and she now experienced the full effect of his presence.

“This is a murder investigation, Miss Poole,” he growled. “And you’d be well advised not to insert yourself into the investigation. You might get hurt.”

“Is that a threat, Detective Kingsley?”

“A fair warning, Miss Poole. Murder investigations tend to get sticky.”

“I’m a reporter, Detective. It’s my job to report on any crime that takes place in my town. I’m sure my uncle explained all this to you.”

“He did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with him,” he grunted.

“Well, you’d better get used to it.” She would have added he wasn’t going to be in town long enough to learn all the ins and outs of the way they did things around here, but bit her tongue. The story of Detective Kingsley’s wrongdoings was one she’d crack once Frey’s murderer had beencaught.

While this battle of wills took place, Aissa had sat motionless. Now she noisily cleared her throat.“Did you have a question for me, Detective?”

Chase finally dragged his eyes away from Odelia’s and nodded. “I did. Where were you on the night of September sixteen last year, Miss Spring?”

This surprised Odelia.“Have you determined the time of death?”

Chase’s jaw worked as he studiously chose to ignore her. “I realize it’s been a long time, but try to throw your mind back. It’s important. I’m sure Miss Poole told you all about the murder of Mr. Frey by now, and the fact that we need to interview anyone who’s ever been at odds with the victim.”

“Yes, she did,” said Aissa, with a quick look at Odelia.

From her part, Odelia was standing her ground, her arms folded across her chest. Even though it was clear Chase wanted her to leave, she refused to.

“You probably heard about our little feud?” asked Aissa sheepishly.

“I did,” confirmed Chase. “Chief Alec told me how you pressed charges against Paulo Frey after he threatened to close down your restaurant and made a real stink about the fact that you and Miss Marissa are… an item.”

“I was just telling Odelia what a terrible ordeal the whole thing was, and how we were worried that Frey might succeed in closing us down. Luckily Chief Alec stepped into the breach and smoothed things over. After that, Frey gave No Spring Chicks a wide berth every time he came into town.”

“How did you determine the time of death?” Odelia insisted. She’d already scribbled down the date in her little notebook: September sixteen.

But Chase merely stared at Aissa, who realized she still hadn’t answered the cop’s question. “Oh, right,” she said, quickly getting up and hurrying over to the counter. She picked up a large ledger and started flipping through it until she reached the chosen date. “The sixteenth…” she muttered, letting her finger slide down the items on the page. “Oh. Of course. We hosted the mayor’s wife’s birthday bash that night, so we were pretty busy.”

Odelia saw that her words had quite an impact on Chase. It was as if he stood frozen. Finally, he asked huskily,“The mayor’s wife? You mean…”

“Francine. Mayor Turner’s wife? She’s a vegan, so she’s in here all the time.”

Once again, her words had a powerful effect on the policeman. His face visibly relaxed, and a small smile indicated her words met his approval.“The mayor of Hampton Cove,” he said, nodding. “Not the mayor of New York.”

“Oh, no,” Aissa laughed. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen the mayor of New York here, or in Hampton Cove. He’s more an Amagansett kind of guy. I hear he’s got quite a place out there, with a private helipad for his chopper.”

“Yes, he does,” Chase confirmed, his lips once again a grim line.

Odelia wondered what the story with him and the mayor was, and made a quick mental note to further look into the matter.

“So if I talk to Francine Turner, she’ll be able to confirm that you were here all evening on September the sixteenth?” Chase asked now.

“I’m sure she would,” said Aissa. “She’s one of our best customers and I like to be here when something big like that goes down.” She smiled. “Especially after what happened with Frey we were afraid we might lose the restaurant, so we made sure we worked like beavers, both Marissa andI.”

“Marissa was also here?”

“Yes, we were both here, I’m sure of it,” she said. “It was a big thing, and we brought the birthday cake in together. It was a great night. I remember telling Francine how grateful we were for her support and the mayor’s and the entire Hampton Cove community.” She gave Chase a wink. “This is a great little town, Detective Kingsley. One that the Paulo Freys of this world can’t destroy, no matter how hard they try. It’s a lesson I learned last year.”

He nodded curtly, and Odelia thought Aissa’s words had touched a chord, for he gave her one of his rare smiles. “Thank you, Miss Spring.”

“It’s Aissa. And I hope to welcome you in our restaurant one of these nights, Detective.”

“Chase, please, and I most certainly will. I can’t wait to try your cuisine.”

He abruptly turned and strode out, clearly wanting to avoid Odelia, but she quickly tripped after him, giving Aissa a wave.“So you managed to pin down time of death, huh, Detective?”

But Chase simply kept on walking, a set look on his face.

“Did you get a cause of death, too? Detective Kingsley?”

Chase sped up, taking long strides that forced her to break into an awkward gait.“You can’t keep ignoring me! As a reporter I have rights!”

He abruptly stopped and she almost bumped into him.

“I acknowledge the fact that you have rights, Miss Poole,” he ground out slowly, “but I, for one, don’t feel obliged to honor those rights. I’m sure that whatever you need to know you can find out from your uncle, but trust me when I tell you that I intend to conduct this investigation bythe book, and that doesn’t include catering to the wishes of nosy reporters such as yourself.”

“Well, then that’s your loss, Detective!” she found herself crying out, his words having pushed one button too many. “I’ll have you know that I could have been a real boon to this investigation. I know this town, and everyone in it! I know this place inside out, while you’re the new guy, and don’t know a single person around here.” She now found she was tapping his chest with her finger, and marveled how hard it was. The guy was built like Iron Man!

“You may know everyone in town, Miss Poole,” he growled, “but I represent the law, and I intend to honor my obligation to uphold it, and not allow this investigation to turn into a freak show or a town hall meeting. Good day to you.” And with these words, he left her fuming on the sidewalk.

The gall of the man! Max was right. Kingsley was the spitting image of his cat: overbearing, obnoxious, and despotic. Who did he think he was, barging into town and deciding she had no business investigating a murder? She’d show him. She’d solve this murder long before he’d ferreted out his first clue. She’d show him he wasn’t the hotshot detective he thought he was.

Still fuming, she resolutely set foot for the police station. Good thing her uncle wasn’t as unwilling to share information as Kingsley was. She’d find out what the medical examiner had unearthed, and she’d take it from there.

Chapter 10

Dooley and I were just on our way to the newspaper to tell Odelia the latest on Chase Kingsley, when I saw a familiar figure strutting along Main Street. Scratch that. When I sawtwo familiar figures strutting along Main Street as if they owned not only the street but the entire town. They were none other than Brutus and… Harriet!

“Look!” I hissed, my tail quivering in horror. “Look who’s there!”

Dooley glanced over, and did a double take that practically landed him from the sidewalk into the gutter.“Oh. My. God! You were right! Harriet is falling for the creep! No wonder she was defending him! She likes that cat!”

“What’s not to like?” I asked bitterly. “He’s an alpha male, remember?”

But Dooley, who’d been on the fence about Brutus before, now seemed to have had a change of heart. Maybe the fact that he’d always been sweet on Harriet had something to do with it. “How dare he?!” he cried. “How dare he barge in here and steal our queens! I’ll show that damn tom!”

“Well, technically Harriet’s not a queen,” I started to say, but Dooley was already stalking in the direction of the love birds—or rather love cats.

Dutifully, I followed in his pawsteps. I couldn’t very well let him handle Brutus all by himself. As his friend and sometimes housemate I needed to have his back, like I was sure he’d have my back if something ever happened to me. It’s not a strict rule with us cats, mind you. Usually we only have our own backs, and don’t care too much about other cats. We’re not dumb herd animals like dogs. We’re solitary hunters, and used to taking care of number one. But Dooley was my buddy, and I needed to protect him from this brute.

“Dooley! Wait!” I yelled therefore, and shot across the street after him, after looking left and right. I may be a good Samaritan, but I’m not suicidal.

When I arrived on the other side of the road, Dooley was already engaging Brutus in open warfare, while Harriet seemed taken aback by this sudden vehemence her usually placid housemate suddenly displayed.

“How dare you?!” he was yelling at Brutus, even going so far as to tap him smartly on the chest. “How dare you breeze into town and take… our stuff,” he lamely added with a quick glance at Harriet. “You can’t do that!”

But Brutus wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by this sudden sign of a local uprising. Mel Gibson, had he been present at the scene, war paint and all, would have taken charge, and destroyed this nasty interloper once and for all. But Dooley was no Mel Gibson, and Brutus had no trouble putting him in his place. “Look, you moron,” he said, disdainfully swatting away Dooley’s paw. “Things are going to change around here, so you better get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that!” Dooley cried bravely.

“My human is in charge now, with your human playing second fiddle. Chase Kingsley is running this town now, and so am I, and if you want to survive under my regime, you better do as I say or else.” He then turned to Harriet and added, “Come on, toots. Don’t listen to this riffraff.”

“Who are you calling riffraff?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you cut this loser loose, Harriet? Tell him where he can put his new regime.”

“Yeah, tell him, Harriet,” Dooley said. “Tell him we’re your best friends and that we’re in charge of this place, not him.”

Brutus turned to Harriet.“Remember what I promised you, sweetie pie. Fresh raw meat. An all-you-can-eat buffet of fresh raw meat. Just think what it’ll do to your coat. It’ll be even prettier and shinier than it is now already.”

Harriet’s eyes glittered at the prospect of fresh raw meat, and not the kibble Marge always gave her, and she tilted her chin. “Sorry, guys,” she said. “But it looks like things are changing in this town, and either you adapt… or you perish.” She shrugged. “It’s a law of nature, or didn’t you know?”

“But Harriet!” said Dooley, looking thoroughly confused now, and extremely disappointed by this behavior from one he’d always admired from afar. Well, not afar, exactly, as he’d been living with Harriet all his life, but you catch my drift. “You can’t go with this cat. He—he—he’s a… Damien!”

Brutus narrowed his eyes.“What are you calling me, gib?”

Dooley winced.“Damien?”

“It’s just a dumb movie,” Harriet explained. “Let’s go, Brutus.”

Brutus stared at Dooley for a few seconds more, with Dooley appearing to shrink inside his fur. Finally, content that he’d once again destroyed the competition with the mere power of his presence, Brutus gave us both a nasty grin, clicked his tongue, cocked a nail at us and strutted off with Harriet.

“This isn’t fair, Max,” said Dooley plaintively. “He can’t do this.”

“Well, he just did,” I said as I glared after the couple.

“But he can’t just take Harriet! What’s Marge gonna say?”

“Marge is going to discover a cuckoo has taken over the nest. I have a strong suspicion Brutus is extending his dominion to both our backyards.”

Dooley looked up in abject alarm.“He’s moving in.”

“Not moving in, exactly, as he won’t want to exchange his all-you-can-eat meat buffets for Marge’s kibble, but we’ll be seeing a lot more of him from now on.” I sighed despondently. “We better face it, Dooley. Our little band of three has just turned into a foursome. And judging from this small preview, we won’t be the top cats. More like the downtrodden ones.”

“But I don’t want to be the undercat!” cried Dooley.

“Well, you’re going to be, if Brutus has his way.”

Dooley stared after Brutus and Harriet as they strutted their stuff without holding back, giggling and prancing like a couple of love cats.

“I like Harriet,” said Dooley sadly. “I like her a lot. And I always thought that over time she’d learn to like me, too. I guess I was wrong, huh?”

I shook my head.“Where does he come off, calling you a gib?”

“Did he say that? I didn’t even notice,” said Dooley, with a hangcat expression on his face.

Suddenly I got an idea.“Do you know if Brutus is neutered?”

“How would I know? I didn’t check… down there.”

“Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Everything! His aggressive nature. The way Harriet is completely smitten with him. The way he’s taken over this town… That cat,” I said, pointing a paw at Brutus’s retreating back, “has not been fixed, Dooley. Which is a clear violation of the rules and regulations of this town.”

“You think we should tell someone?”

“I think it’s our sacred duty, Dooley,” I declared.

The light of hope was gleaming in my friend’s eyes. “What if we told Odelia? And she told Chief Alec? Who told Chase?”

“He’d have no choice but to have Brutus neutered,” I said with a grin.

“That would change his tune.”

“Bring him down a peg. Or two.”

“Or three or four.”

“Two, Dooley. Even Brutus only has two… you know.”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Two it is.”

“It might even make Harriet fall out of love with the guy.”

“Like you said, Max, it is our sacred duty to make sure the law is upheld.”

“And even more so since Brutus is an officer of that same law.”

I held up my paw, and Dooley slapped it in a genuine and heartfelt high-five.“Let’s get this cat fixed, buddy,” said Dooley, his despondency gone.

And so we set out on a new mission, and set paw for the newspaper, where we hoped to find Odelia. It was a good thing that Dan always liked to leave the door to the office open, so we waltzed in and went straight for Odelia’s office, where we found her checking something on her computer.

“Odelia, have we got news for you!” I announced our presence.

“Oh, hey, Max. Dooley. I don’t have a lot of time, guys. I’m on my way to Uncle Alec for an update on the murder case.”

“We’ll keep it brief,” I promised her, and proceeded to give her a quick summary of the conversation between Chase and Tex. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. Apparently this was all news to her, which was gratifying, of course. But when we added the even more stunning scoopthat Brutus wasn’t neutered, she suddenly lost interest. But isn’t that always the case? Cats are only interested in cats, and humans in humans. It’s simply the way the cookie crumbles. So when I told her to tell Chief Alec about Brutus’s unneutered state, she merely mumbled something underher breath, grabbed her clutch from the desk and waltzed out without another word.

“Do you think we got the message across?” asked Dooley.

“I think we’ll need to follow up on that one,” I told him.

“I think so, too. Somehow I don’t think she grasped the significance.”

Humans. They’re perfectly nice people, but you gotta watch them.

Chapter 11

“Poole,” Odelia said. “My name is Poole. Odelia Poole.”

She stared annoyedly at the mayor’s secretary. The woman was new, and apparently didn’t know who she was. Odelia was anxious to have a word with the mayor’s wife, who she knew had an office right next to her husband, from where she coordinated Hampton Cove’s beautification committee. She needed her to confirm Aissa’s story so she could take her off the suspect list.

Upon leaving the newspaper, she’d popped into the police station to have a word with Uncle Alec, but unfortunately he’d proved unavailable. According to Dolores he’d been summoned to the mayor’s office to give an update on the Paulo Frey case, a case destined to shake this small town to its foundations. Not only were murders pretty rare around here, but a celebrity writer being murdered was unheard of. If one celebrity got killed, it was bound to give other celebrities ideas, and soon they would start avoiding this town en masse, which was definitely bad for business.

“I’m sorry, Miss Poole,” the secretary said, “but the mayor is busy right now, and so is his wife.”

She nodded, wondering whether the mayor’s wife was busy with Chase. If he followed the same pattern she did, he probably was in there questioning her right now. If only she could skip one step and go straight to the next suspect, she could get ahead of him, and solve this murder before he did. Wouldn’t it be fun if he read in his morning paper who Paulo Frey’s murderer was? That would make him feel pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?

So she decided not to wait for the mayor’s wife, and to simply assume Aissa hadn’t lied about her alibi. She checked her notes, and saw that the next person to talk to was Gabby Cleret, the well-known Hollywood actress.

She’d left her pickup parked in front of her father’s office, and now quickly returned there to fetch it. And as she did, she saw that her father had just stepped out of his office and was on his way back from the hardware store next door, carrying what looked like a big roll of screen.

“Hey, honey,” he said when he saw her. “We keep running into each other today, don’t we?”

“It’s a small town, Dad,” she said, then gestured at the roll of screen. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, I promised your mother I’d finally fix that screen door. It’s been broken ever since your cat destroyed it last summer.”

“My cat? Wasn’t it your cat who jumped on the screen and ripped it to shreds?”

He grinned.“I think they all played an equal part in its destruction. Oh, before I forget,” he said as she made to go to her pickup. “There’s something I need you to do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know if you met him, but your uncle Alec hired a new cop. His name is Chase Kingsley and he just arrived in town a couple of days ago.”

Her lips tightened and she crossed her arms as she leaned back against her car.“We’ve met.”

He flashed her a grin.“Oh, that’s right. Chase told me you did.”

“Did he now?”

“Uh-huh. He was in here just now for a, um, consultation. The thing is, Chase used to work as a cop in New York, and got in trouble over some business out there. It’s no great secret, as it’s been all over the New York papers a couple of months ago. He was dishonorably discharged from the NYPD,” he said, also leaning against the car.

“Yes, I know,” she said tersely. She could hardly tell her dad that she also knew all about the conversation he’d had with Chase in his office. It had certainly made her think. If it was true that he’d been framed, it changed everything. But she hadn’t made up her mind that he’d been telling the truth.

A few passersby nodded friendly greetings at father and daughter Poole, and Tex greeted them back jovially while Odelia merely glared at them. She knew exactly what her dad was going to ask her to do, and she’d been dreading the moment ever since Max and Dooley had told her about it.

“Look, I’d like to correct the impression that Chase is some kind of bad apple,” said Tex. “I can’t go into too much detail without divulging certain confidential information that’s strictly between my patient and me, but…”

“Just spit it out, Dad. What is it you want to tell me?”

“Chase has been wronged, honey. That story about him assaulting a suspect’s wife? That’s just a load of poppycock. So I told him I’d talk to you, Hampton Cove’s premier reporter, and convince you to help spread the word that Chase Kingsley is a fine, upstanding citizen and a great cop, and that whole nonsense about his dismissal is simply one big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you saying he didn’t assault that woman?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And what Chase is saying.”

“And you believe him?”

“I most certainly do.”

She shook her head again. Dad was always a sucker for a sob story. Whereas she was a hard-nosed reporter, he believed anything. As she saw it, it was Chase’s word against the woman he’d allegedly molested, so who was she to believe? This far-fetched tale about him catching the commissioner and the mayor’s wife in the act? Or the official story as it had appeared in an NYPD statement and accurately had been reported in the news? Tough choice. But judging from what she’d seen of Chase Kingsley so far, she was inclined to go with the molestation story. The guy was simply bad news.

“So what I want you to do is write a nice little piece, extolling Chase’s virtues, so to speak, and spread the rumor that his dismissal was a mistake.”

“What mistake? Why would the NYPD fire a cop for no reason?”

“I, um…” Her dad quickly glanced around, then said in hushed tones, “Let’s just say he saw certain things he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“What things?” she insisted. She wanted this on the record, so she could use it in a story if she had to.

He stared at her for a moment.“I keep forgetting what a tough reporter you are, honey. Is this the way you conduct all your interviews?”

“Of course. I’m a professional, Dad.”

“Right. Um…” He scratched his scalp, obviously torn.

“I’ll tell you what I heard,” she said, feeling sorry for him. “I heard Chase caught the commissioner and the mayor’s wife making whoopee in his office. So to make sure nobody would believe him if he talked, they bribed this suspect’s wife to fabricate a story about him that got him fired. Am I close?”

He stared at her.“My God, honey. You are good. Who told you?”

She shrugged.“I’ve got my sources. The big question is: do you believe him?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if he’s lying? What if the story is true and he really assaulted that woman? And this whole story about the mayor’s wife is something he made up to protect his reputation and make sure he can work as a cop again?”

Tex shook his white-haired head.“People don’t fool me that easily, honey. I’ve been treating patients for three decades. Trust me, by now I know if they’re lying or not. It’s called intuition, and after so many years I’ve got it in spades.” He stared at her. “You seem adamant to believe the worst about Chase, though. How come?”

“We met this morning in Uncle Alec’s office and he took an instant dislike to me and I to him.”

“You got off on the wrong foot, that’s all. Once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s a great guy. And, I’m sure, a very talented police officer.”

“I just wish he would let me in on the murder investigation.”

“What murder investigation is that?”

“Haven’t you heard? Paulo Frey was murdered. They found his body yesterday out at the Writer’s Lodge.”

“The writer that disappeared?”

She nodded.“Dan asked me to write the story.”

“And Chase doesn’t want you interfering with the investigation.”

“Nope. He feels reporters have no place in a murder investigation.”

“Well, I can certainly understand his aversion to reporters,” said Tex.

“You mean because of that hatchet piece that appeared in thePost?”

Her father nodded sagely, and gave her a grim smile.“He probably feels that that article sealed the deal on his career. Made him persona non grata.”

Her dad had a point. Chase would have an ax to grind with reporters. Unless the assault charges were true. In that case he simply didn’t want reporters snooping around and discovering other dark secrets from his past.

“I don’t know, Dad,” she said, shaking her head.

“You won’t spread the story that Chase was framed?”

“I don’t see how I can. Not unless I know for sure.”

He sighed.“Fair enough. Always check your sources, huh?”

“Exactly. Imagine I spread the story that Chase is innocent, and it turns out he’s been playing us for a fool. That would ruinmy reputation.”

“Like I said, honey,” said her father, straightening. He fixed her with a kindly look. “After all these years, nobody takes me for a fool. Trust me. But if you feel you can’t do this in good conscience, then simply don’t.”

“You know what? I’ll do a little digging. See if I can’t find someone to corroborate Chase’s story. If the commissioner and the mayor’s wife are having an affair, I’m sure Chase isn’t the only one who knows about it.”

He gave her a warm smile.“You do that, and I trust that you will uncover the truth, like you always do. In the meantime… I hope this business between you and Chase won’t cause any awkwardness over dinner tonight?”

“I’ll behave,” she promised him. “Though I can’t vouch for Chase. The guy seems to hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, honey,” her father assured her. “He’s simply bitter and lashing out, that’s all. Once you break bread together all will be fine.”

Somehow Odelia doubted that.

Chapter 12

Odelia’s next stop was the expansive villa of famous movie star Gabby Cleret. And as she drove there in her old Ford pickup, the one she’d bought with her first salary, she couldn’t help musing on her recent talk with her dad. If it was really true that Chase had been wrongfully accused of a crime it wasn’t enough to spread the rumor around town. He needed to be officially exonerated. Get a chance to get his job back and get an apology from the commissioner. If—and it was a big if, she had to admit—he was right, and she found proof of this so-called affair, she wasn’t going to limit herself to simply spreading a few rumors. She was going to expose the commissioner.

The longer she thought about it, the more she became convinced that perhaps there was truth to the story. She had the highest respect for both her father and Uncle Alec, and knew both of them to be excellent judges of character. If they both trusted Chase, maybe he was telling the truth after all. Which meant he’d been the victim of a terrible crime, and justice had to be done. She’d always abhorred injustice, and now started to see her story taking a completely different direction. Instead of exposing Chase, perhaps she needed to expose the ones who’d got him kicked off the force?

She arrived at the oceanfront property of Gabby Cleret, just outside of Hampton Cove, located on one of those pieces of prime real estate that had long ago been snapped up by the more wealthy residents of the Hamptons.

Like Chase, Gabby had moved to Hampton Cove in a bid to escape the fallout of a scandal that had cost her her career. The details were a little fuzzy, but she seemed to remember she’d starred in a remake ofRaiders of the Lost Ark, only with a female lead this time to take over Harrison Ford’s iconic role. It hadn’t gone down well with fanboys the world over, who’d viciously attacked both her and the picture, and had managed to destroy them both.

Apparently so-called fans hadn’t taken too kindly to their favorite movie being recast with a woman this time, and had been quite vocal about it, bombarding the movie and its star with all manner of vile abuse, with Gabby bearing the brunt of the attack. The actress had taken it badly, especially after the movie had tanked spectacularly, and had lost the studio millions of dollars, causing her career to stall. She hadn’t made another movie since, hiding from the storm out here in the Hamptons, and licking her wounds.

Odelia had met Gabby once, and had even interviewed her for theHampton Cove Gazette. They’d gotten along great, and Odelia hoped she’d remember her and would be willing to talk about the Paulo Frey business.

Ten minutes after she’d rung the bell, she was sipping from a cup of tea out on the deck, while Gabby sniffed from a bouquet of roses a fan and admirer had apparently left on the porch. They were looking out across the pool area, which was now covered with a tarp, and the ocean beyond.

“Nice place you got here, Gabby,” she said appreciatively.

“Yeah, it’s my own little piece of paradise,” Gabby confirmed with a tired smile. She looked a little under the weather, Odelia thought, and more subdued than the boisterous woman she remembered, both from the movie and her personal experience when they’d spent a fun afternoon together.

Gabby Cleret was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with an expressive face and long black hair that she’d pulled up high into a bun. A long, loose-fitting robe hid her cuddly figure. She wasn’t one of those skinny stars, and had never made excuses for her more womanly curves. It was one more reason the fanboys had singled her out for abuse, as apparently a woman wasn’t allowed to have curves and had to look like a stick figure.

“I actually came here to ask you about Paulo Frey,” Odelia finally said.

She saw how Gabby visibly stiffened.“What about him?” she asked, her smile quickly evaporating.

“Well, I don’t know if anyone told you this, but his body was found yesterday, buried out at the Writer’s Lodge. He was murdered.”

Gabby’s eyebrows shot up. “Murdered? Are you sure?”

“Looks like. I’m doing a piece for the Gazette, and I was talking to Aissa Spring just now, who told me you had some kind of run-in with the guy?”

Gabby nodded, gazing out across the ocean for a moment, then fixing her dark eyes back on Odelia.“He was a mean man, Odelia. A real mean man.”

“I gathered that from Aissa’s story.”

“He tried to destroy her restaurant, just because she was a woman in love with another woman. He tried to destroy me, because I was a woman playing a man’s part, and because I was too ugly to be in movies, as he put it.”

“Too ugly? He said that?”

“He didn’t say it, but he wrote it, in a bombardment of tweets aimed at me, enthusiastically retweeted by his posse of followers. It turned into this toxic thing,” she said, shaking her head, “and caused the story to move away from the movie to my personal appearance.” She sniffed one of the roses again, and seemed to take comfort in the sweet fragrance.

“That must have been horrible,” Odelia said commiseratingly. The more she heard about Paulo Frey, the more it appeared the man was a monster.

“His followers didn’t just attack me, they attacked the movie, too. They launched so many one-star reviews on the movie’s IMDb page that it had an actual effect on attendance figures, greatly exacerbated by their boycott.”

“But why? Why go to all that trouble just for a stupid movie?” asked Odelia. “I mean, no offense. I saw the movie and I loved it, especially your performance. I think you did a great job and you were perfect for the part.”

“Thanks,” said Gabby with a smile. “I didn’t get it either. Not then, not now. All I can think is that Paulo Frey hated women. Period. He thought that the studio should never have replaced Harrison Ford with a woman and seemed to consider it a personal insult and so did a lot of men his age. Indiana Jones is this iconic male character, and in their mind replacing him with a woman was simply blasphemy. Underneath all that was simple misogyny, though, I’m sure of it, and he singled me out for destruction, as he put it.”

“He did a pretty good job by the looks of it.”

“He did. Not only did he singlehandedly manage to destroy the movie, losing the studio millions, and sink a potential franchise, he also destroyed my career. There were supposed to be two more films, but those will never be made, and I haven’t received a decent script since.” She produced a mirthless laugh. “He got exactly what he wanted: he destroyed my career and my life.”

“But you can’t let one guy do that to you, Gabby,” Odelia said. “You’re a talented, beautiful woman. You can’t let this horrible event define your life. I’m sure that if you go back out there you’ll see that there are plenty of people who adore you and your work. You have brought somuch joy to the world.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Odelia,” said Gabby gratefully, “but I don’t know if you’re right. It wasn’t much fun going through such an experience and frankly I’m afraid that it will happen again and destroy me.”

“Well,” she said, “the ringleader is dead, so there’s that. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Which reminded her. “Um, I have to ask you this, Gabby, but do you have any idea where you were on the night of September the sixteenth?”

Gabby barked out a laugh.“You’re asking me for my alibi, huh? Why? Do you think I killed Paulo Frey? I didn’t even know he was in town. If I had, I’d never have bought a house here.”

“Yeah, he stayed at the Writer’s Lodge every year, to write his books.”

“Good thing we never bumped into each other. I might have killed him.”

She eyed the other woman uncertainly.“But you didn’t, right?”

“Of course not! Do I look like a murderer? The only thing I’ve killed is a production company, and even that wasn’t my fault but Paulo Frey’s.”

“The company went belly up?” She made a quick note of that.

“Yes, it did. Look, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not happy that the monster is dead, but I can promise you I wasn’t the one that did it. Now where’s my phone?” She searched around until she’d located her smartphone and snatched it from the side table that held, amongstother things, a voluminous tome that appeared to beLord of the Rings. Odelia saw that the screensaver on her phone was the movie poster for the Indiana Jones movie. The actress slipped a pair of half-moon glasses onto her nose and checked the phone, her long-nailed fingers clicking on the glass. She called up the calendar app and squinted at the screen.“I was in LA that weekend,” she finally said. “Ironically enough to be told the news that the sequel toRaiders of the Lost Ark had been canceled after the picture sank like a stone at the box office. So there,” she said, placing down the phone. “I didn’t kill Frey but I heartily commend whoever did. They rid the world of a great evil.”

“Thanks, Gabby,” she said, getting up. “And think about what I said.” She placed her hand on her heart. “Your fans miss you. I miss you. Your place is out there, amongst your true fans, of which you have many, I promise you.”

Gabby gave her a grateful smile and they shared a quick hug.“Thanks, honey,” she said. “Maybe now that the monster is dead, I can show my face again. And maybe even make movies again.”

They both laughed as Gabby escorted her through the house and into a marble atrium. She opened the front door and was surprised to find a tall man standing before her, his finger poised over the bell button.

“Detective Kingsley,” she said sweetly. “I was just going.” She gestured to Gabby. “She’s all yours, but I can tell you already that she didn’t do it, and that her alibi is rock solid.” And with these words, she slipped past the cop, who looked absolutely dumbfounded, and gave Gabbya pinky wave before sashaying down the front steps and making her way to her truck, parked in the circular driveway. In the battle between theHampton Cove Gazette and the Hampton Cove Police Department, it was obvious she was way ahead.

Chapter 13

“You know, one good thing about Harriet hooking up with Brutus is that he’ll be so busy showing off to her he won’t bother us,” I told Dooley as we sat on the back porch of the Gazette, grooming and basking in the sun.

Dooley and I might not be the most handsome cats around, but that didn’t mean we didn’t take our grooming seriously. Every cat worth his or her salt likes to preen, and we were no exceptions.

We weren’t alone, as the Gazette’s owner, Dan Goory, was rocking in his rocking chair, going over the proofs of one of his articles. The old man liked to sit here and take a load off his feet, and occasionally smoke a cigarette. We always made sure we sat upwind from him, as we weren’t too keen on the smell. Sometimes Dan and Odelia would sit here together and discuss the next day’s edition of the Gazette. It was better than being cooped up inside.

“I don’t know,” said Dooley morosely between two licks. “I’m sure he’ll manage to fit bullying us into his busy schedule.”

“I don’t think so. In fact I’m pretty sure that as long as those two are an item, he’ll leave us in peace,” I said, trying to lift Dooley’s mood. He’d been feeling downcast after making the discovery that the cat he’d been sweet on for years had fallen for the new cat on the block.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Dooley, giving his tail a tentative lick and then, deciding it was clean enough, leaving it for another time. “Let’s hope that as long as that Nazi furball is prancing around with Harriet we’re safe.”

“Which means we can do whatever we want. Go wherever we like and generally be masters of our own fate again without that brute interfering.”

“So what do you want to do?”

I thought for a moment. What did I want to do? I wanted to solve this murder, that’s what I wanted to do. And make sure Odelia got the scoop. I liked this small town, and I didn’t like it when people started killing each other. It wasn’t nice. And since violence led to more violence someone had to put a stop to it before things got out of hand. At least that’s how I saw it.

“We could hang out at the barbershop,” Dooley suggested.

It was one of our favorite haunts. You’d be surprised what kind of secrets people tell their barber. Almost as many as they divulge to their doctor.

“Why don’t we head out to the lodge and see if we can’t pick up the scent of the killer?” I suggested instead. The barbershop could wait. We were born hunters, after all, and perhaps we could pick up the scent of the murderer.

Dooley brightened, and I saw this would be good for him. It would keep his mind off Brutus and Harriet strutting their stuff along Main Street.

“I think that’s a great idea, Max,” he said enthusiastically. “Maybe we can sniff out the killer and then all Odelia has to do is make them confess.”

“Let’s do this,” I said, and we bumped fists.

It’s called teamwork, people, and it’s not just humans that do it. Dooley and I have been living together for so many years we make a pretty great team. What’s more, we’ve grown attached to our humans, and like to help them out. When it suits us, of course. We’re not a couple of dumb dogs.

So we left Dan on the back porch marking up his articles with a deep frown on his face, and trotted off, setting paw for the Writer’s Lodge. One disadvantage of being a cat is that we don’t get to drive a car. Or a bike. Which means we have to go everywhere on paw. But, like I said, we’re natural born hunters, and what are a couple of miles for your friendly neighborhood predator? Chicken feed. Still, after we’d been on the move for a while, I was starting to wonder if this was such a good idea after all.

“Are we there yet?” asked Dooley, panting slightly.

“No idea, buddy, but I hope so. My paws are killing me.”

“And mine. What’s more, I’m getting tired, Max.”

“I’m sure it won’t be much further.”

We walked on in silence for a couple of minutes. We’d left the heart of town behind, and were now traipsing through the woods. This piece of the trail was all uphill, and I wondered who would voluntarily go and live in the middle of nowhere just so they could write a book. Nuts.

“You know? When this is all over and we’ve caught the killer, maybe we’ll get a nice treat,” said Dooley. “Like that raw meat Brutus gets from Chase?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “All we ever get are leftovers, and they’re cooked.”

“Maybe when Brutus comes to live with us he’ll share his meals?”

“Dream on, buddy. Brutus doesn’t strike me as the sharing type.”

“You’re probably right. And if he shares, it’ll be with Harriet, not us.”

We scaled a small hill, and passed beneath some brambles, to come out on the other side looking like pincushions. We shed the prickles and trudged on.

“You know?” Dooley asked suddenly. “What does Brutus have that we don’t?”

I sighed.“Is this about Harriet again?”

“No, it’s about Brutus being treated like royalty.”

“Well, Brutus is a pedigree cat, Dooley. They’re like the royalty of cats. While we’re just your average alley cats that got picked out of the litter by an indiscriminate hand. I’m sure that when Chase got Brutus, he paid good money for that cat, while we’re lucky we didn’t get flushed down the toilet.”

“So he’s a prize-winning cat and we’re just a bunch of ugly mongrels,” Dooley said bitterly. Maybe this hike wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Instead of taking his mind off Brutus and Harriet, it had the opposite effect.

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “Though I wouldn’t call you a mongrel, Dooley.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? That cat has probably won a ton of cat shows.”

I shuddered at the thought of having to compete in a cat show.“It’s only natural that after paying top dollar for Brutus, Chase would want to show him off,” I speculated. “Which is probably why he feeds him a diet of raw meat.”

“Hey, maybe we should enter a cat show,” said Dooley. “Show Odelia that we’re special, too. Maybe then she’ll start feeding us raw meat.”

“I doubt whether we’ll stand a chance,” I said, shaking my head at so much naivet?. As if we could ever compete with the likes of Brutus.

“Why not?” he asked stubbornly. “It worked for Babe, didn’t it?”

I frowned.“Babe? Who’s Babe?”

“Don’t you remember that movie we saw the other night? About a piglet that grows up on a farm, and the farmer trains him to be a sheepdog? And since he was so nice and polite all the sheep loved him and did exactly what he told them to do at the animal show? He didn’t even have to bark at them or bite them or any of that horrible stuff. So if Babe can do it, so can we.”

“Do what, exactly? Become sheepdogs?”

“Not sheepdogs,” he said with a laugh. “Perform at a cat show!”

Become a cat model? Never!“I really don’t think so, Dooley.”

“But we’re special, Max, just like Babe. I just know we are.”

“Look, that was a Hollywood movie. In Hollywood movies animals are always special. Penguins have happy feet and pigs can corral sheep and cats eat lasagna and sound like Bill Murray. In real life? Not so much.”

“But we can talk. We can talk to Odelia. And to Marge. And Gran.” He gave me a grin. “I’m sure that Brutus can’t talk to Chase Kingsley.”

Well, that was true enough. Brutus might get prime chops, but I doubted whether he could chat with his human. Dooley and I might not be pedigree cats, or have the appeal of a sheepherding pig or silly dancing penguins, but we could help Odelia solve this murder, and that definitely made us special.

We’d arrived at the Writer’s Lodge, and saw that the place was completely cordoned off with crime scene tape, the yellow kind.

“Come on,” I said as I followed the scent of human excrement. “Over there.”

We hurried to the place where the crime had been committed and stopped at the demolished structure that had formerly been the outhouse. The entire thing had been taken apart, the boards piled up high next to a sizable hole dug into the earth. A small crane stood parked next to it, which had probably been used to get the body of Paulo Frey out of the hole. When we took a tentative peek into the abyss, I saw it was pretty deep. And smelled horrible.

“Crap,” I said. “This stench is hard to bear.”

Unlike humans, us cats can’t pinch our noses, which are a lot more sensitive to begin with, so the foul stench emanating from the former latrine was an assault on my senses that was worse than I’d imagined. Generations of writers had taken a dump right here in this pit, and so had generations of Hampton Covians, as the Writer’s Lodge outhouse was as popular with the locals as it was with writers. When nature suddenly called, hikers had the choice between relieving themselves in the bushes or this outhouse. But why wipe your tush with a piece of bark or a clump of grass when you can use Hetta Fried’s velvet comfort triple-layered tissue instead? After all, what’s good enough for bestselling writers is good enough for the local yokels.

Luckily for the lodge’s paying guests, they got preferential treatment. So when a desperate hiker came running, ready to burst, and he found the outhouse occupied by a writer, he simply had to hold and wait until the scribbler had done his business before adding his own contribution.

“So this is where they found the guy, huh?” asked Dooley, his face twisted in a grimace as he tried to endure the horrible stench.

“Yeah. Looks like,” I croaked.

The pit had been completely emptied out, and I couldn’t even see the bottom now, nor did I feel inclined to jump in and investigate.

“Do you smell the killer?” asked Dooley, gagging slightly.

“I smell shit,” I wheezed, and quickly removed myself from the scene.

And that’s when I bumped into another cat who was lurking around. I recognized her as one of the wild felines that roamed these woods, and lived as nature had intended it: free and untethered, roaming the earth alone.

“Hey, Clarice,” I said by way of greeting. “So what are you doing here?”

Clarice, who was rail thin, with gray hair matted and twisted in knots, had a wild look in her eyes. She was feral, and we usually tried to avoid her. But this was not a regular social call. We needed answers and we needed them fast and maybe Clarice had seen something out here.

“Do you have any idea who killed this guy?” asked Dooley, who’d joined me. The stench of human dung had become too much for him as well. At least where we lived humans used a flush toilet, and the smell never got as bad as out here, where they still adhered to a more primitive waste disposal method.

“I saw nuthin,” said Clarice now in a vicious snarl.

“You mean you weren’t around when the murder happened?” I asked.

She shook her head.“I saw nuthin.”

“Maybe you saw this Paulo Frey character when he was still alive. He was a regular at the Writer’s Lodge, right?” I asked, probing a little further.

She stared at me, looking more feral than ever. It gave me the creeps. The longer Clarice lived out here, the weirder she seemed to get.

“I saw nuthin,” she repeated a third time, sticking to her story no matter what. And then, before we could continue our line of questioning, she simply darted away, and shot off into the woods, as if fired from a gun, afraid we might push her to reach deep and way beyond her limited vocabulary.

“That was weird,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, not very helpful,” I admitted.

We both stuck our noses in the air, to see if we couldn’t pick up any scents, and discovered that we could pick up plenty of them. Too many, in fact, as it appeared that half of Hampton Cove had been out here, which didn’t surprise me. Everyone wanted to take a peek at the crime scene, probably, and find out for themselves what was going on out here.

“I think this was a waste of time,” Dooley finally said.

Just then, I pricked up my ears, for I’d heard the engine of a car whine in the distance, working hard to haul a car up these hills and join us. “Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Someone’s coming,” Dooley said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Do you think it’s the killer? They always say killers return to the scene of the crime!”

“The crime’s been committed over a year ago, Dooley. Why would he wait until now to show up?”

“Because it’s taken until now for the body to be discovered!”

I had to concede he had a point, and we waited with bated breath for the killer to show his or her ugly face. But the car that finally made it up the steep incline was a very familiar one, and we both shared a happy grin.

“Great,” said Dooley. “We can hitch a ride back with Odelia.”

For it was indeed our human’s very own old Ford pickup that now crested the final stretch of road before the lodge, and hove into view.

Odelia stepped from the truck’s cabin and tentatively looked around. When she saw us sauntering from the shrubbery, she smiled. “Hey, you guys. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“We just thought we’d take a closer look at the crime scene,” I said as I curled myself around her leg and butted my head against her calf.

“Yeah, we thought we’d try to sniff out the killer,” Dooley added.

“And? Any luck?” she asked as she crouched down and scratched our necks. We both purred with contentment, our tails gently quivering.

“Lots of scents,” I said. “But hard to determine which one’s the killer’s.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to isolate the killer’s scent,” she said. “The crime was committed a long time ago. Lots of people have been here since.”

“So what are you doing out here?” I asked.

Odelia tapped her smartphone smartly.“Taking a couple of shots for my article.” She walked over to what was left of the outhouse and started snapping pictures, making sure she got it from all the different angles.

“Are you any closer to solving the murder?” asked Dooley.

“Nope,” she said, walking back to us. “I talked to two women who had a run-in with Paulo Frey, and they both told me what a dreadful man he was. Really spiteful and extremely mean. It seems he hated both gays and women, and gay women even more, and liked to harass them and destroy them.”

“A real sweetheart, huh?” I asked as I watched Odelia approach the lodge to take a couple of snaps there. It was a fairly small structure, completely constructed from dark oak, with a nice verandah, where Hetta had installed the Jacuzzi. Writers enjoyed soaking in the hot tub while experiencingthe great outdoors and gazing up at the stars twinkling above. If it didn’t inspire them to write the great American novel, at least it relieved their arthritis.

“So no leads?” asked Dooley.

“Well, the two women I talked to both had alibis, so that was a dead end, but it made me think…”

“Uh-huh?” I asked encouragingly.

She paused, a frown appearing on her smooth brow.“If Frey was the kind of monster they made him out to be, and I don’t doubt they were telling me the truth, he must have had other enemies. And maybe one of them finally decided enough was enough and put a stop to the harassment. Permanently.”

I shared a quick look with Dooley. This was our cue.“Talking about harassment,” I began. “Have you considered suggesting to Chase Kingsley that his cat ought to be neutered?”

But Odelia was already walking around to the other side of the lodge, snapping more pictures. And that’s when I heard another car pulling up.

“Uh-oh,” I said, alarmed. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“The killer!” cried Dooley.

I checked the car that now appeared over the rim.“Close, but no cigar.”

Chapter 14

Odelia was wondering how to get inside the lodge. She wanted to take a few snaps of the place where Frey had spent his final hours, to add color to the story and set the scene. She should have asked Hetta for the key before driving out here, but it had been one of those spur-of-the-moment kind of things. When she couldn’t reach her uncle, she’d figured she might as well drive up and soak up the atmosphere. Get a feel for the place. She rattled the doorknob in frustration. Nope. That one was locked. Then she noticed that a window on the second floor was open, probably to air out the place.

Tucking away her smartphone, she quickly climbed one of the trellises that reached from the ground floor all the way to the roof, and hopped onto the black slate roof, from where she started making her way to the window. Her tongue sticking out, she was just wondering what she’d say if anyone caught her breaking and entering, when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing up there, Miss Poole?”

She looked down, and saw she’d been joined by none other than Detective Kingsley. He was staring up at her, his expression implacable.

“What areyou doing here?” she asked, annoyed. “And how is it that wherever I go, I bump into you? Are you following me, Detective Kingsley?”

“I asked you first,” he said. “Why do you insist on sticking your nose into my investigation? Interviewing my witnesses? Disturbing my crime scene?”

“It’s called journalism, Detective,” she said. “It’s what reporters do.”

“This is a crime scene,” he repeated, that same set look on his features she’d seen every time they’d met. “You can’t go traipsing all over this place.”

“Well, you’re doing it,” she challenged, “so I don’t see why I can’t.”

“I’m the cop in charge of this investigation,” he pointed out. “So I’ll ask you again: what are you doing up there, Miss Poole?”

“I, um…” She’d started making her way down from the roof. She now saw she should have worn jeans that morning, and not this silly little dress. She had the impression that Chase could see her pink undies from where he was standing, and that was the absolute last thing she needed right now. “I just wanted to find an original angle on the place where the body was found.” She gestured at the outhouse. “I figured I’d have a great shot from up here.”

But as she was descending the roof, her foot slipped on a slick patch, and she suddenly was hurtling down a lot quicker than she’d anticipated. She cried out when she reached the roof’s edge and scrambled for support. Her fingers caught a clump of wet leaves and she lost purchase and tumbled over the edge, on a collision course with the unyielding ground below.

Just as she braced for impact, however, she was snatched in midair by two strong arms that caught her just in time. And she suddenly found herself in such close proximity with the hardened cop that she felt like a little bird falling from the nest and being caught by some creature of the wild.

She was at Chase’s mercy now, and could feel her heart beating wildly against her breastbone, Chase’s face so close she could see tiny flecks of green in his icy blue eyes, and the slight stubble that dusted his cheeks. His arms were strong and powerful, as was his chest, and for a moment she had the distinct impression that his full lips would take hers and devour her.

But as quickly as he’d caught her, he released her again, by returning her to perpendicularity, setting her down so gently she surprised herself by heaving out a soft sigh. He then pointed at the green smudges on her dress.

“You’ll have to get that dry-cleaned,” he grumbled, giving her a hard look.

She was still panting slightly, her heart racing, and she knew it wasn’t from the drop but from being in such close proximity with Chase’s hard chest. She hadn’t been this close to a man for a while, her last boyfriend having fled Hampton Cove over a year ago, when he’d been caught embezzling funds from the local bank. Sam had been a teller and had both swindled the bank out of a nice sum of money and her out of her illusions.

He’d been a nice young man, and she’d even brought him home to meet her parents and grandmother for dinner. He’d been nothing like Chase Kingsley, who, she now realized, was an actual man, while Sam was a boy.

“I, um, thank you,” she finally managed. His hands were still expertly removing a few leaves from her person, and the memory of his hard body so close to hers sent a steady stream of thrills up her spine and made her knees tremble. She licked her lips, trying to stem the tide of emotions that suddenly flooded her. How was it possible that a man she hardly knew could have such a powerful effect on her? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. All she knew was that Chase was a very dangerous man, and she better put some distance between herself and this overbearing cop, or else she might bethe next one to fall victim to his treacherous ways. Her lips tightened and her face hardened when she stepped back. “Thank you for saving my life, Detective Kingsley.”

“I don’t think I saved your life, Miss Poole,” he said, also straightening, “but you’re welcome. And now I think it’s time for you to head back into town.”

Anger flared inside her. Who did he think he was ordering her around like this? Maybe it was time she put him in his place.“I’m actually doing a story on you as well, Detective. A story my readers will find fascinating.”

“Is that right?” he asked, eyeing her a little wearily.

“Oh, yes. Lots of rumors have been swirling around about you, and I think it’s important to separate fact from fiction. Set the record straight.”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I think, too,” he admitted.

“So… would you like to comment on your dismissal from the NYPD?”

Instantly, his face hardened.“You know very well that was a hatchet piece that appeared in theNew York Post. No truth to the story whatsoever.”

“All I know is that you were accused of molesting a suspect’s wife, and that she filed charges against you, which caused your immediate dismissal.”

His eyes were blazing now with fury.“That story was a fabrication and a lie,” he growled. “Nothing about it was even remotely true.”

“Then you won’t mind setting the record straight? Give the good people of Hampton Cove your side of the story? Your version of the facts?”

“It’s not myversion of the facts, Miss Poole. Theyare the facts.”

“And what are those? And why haven’t you told them to anyone before?”

At this, instead of launching into a long-winded harangue about the mayor’s wife and the commissioner, as she’d expected, he simply closed his mouth with a click, and stood there glaring at her, visibly seething with anger.

“Oh, come on, Detective Kingsley,” she prompted. “You can do better than that.” She took a step closer. “Isn’t it, in fact, true that you claim you stumbled upon a secret liaison between the commissioner and the mayor’s wife? That you were consequently the victim of a cover-up, and that these false accusations leveled against you were simply a way of discrediting you so no one would believe your crazy story about the commissioner’s illicit affair?”

His eyes were blazing, his face taking on a darker tinge of scarlet. A vein was dangerously throbbing at his temple, and she took another step closer.

“Where did you hear that?” he finally demanded in a deep, low growl.

She shrugged.“I’m a professional, Detective. I have my sources.”

When he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a vigorous shake, she knew she’d gone too far. “Tell me who told you about this,” he spat, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that held her spellbound.

“I—I can’t,” she said, suddenly realizing the dangerous position she’d maneuvered herself in. Here she was, all alone in the woods, near the scene where Paulo Frey had been murdered, with a cop who stood accused of molesting a woman and had lost his job as a consequence. Why did she have to come out here alone? And why did she have to provoke this man? She’d poked the bear, and now he was awake and furious and ready to devour her!

“I want you to let me go now,” she said, squirming.

“Not before you tell me who told you about the commissioner.”

“I—I can’t!” she cried.

He shook her again.“Was it your father? Did he tell you?”

“Of course not! I—everyone knows the story. It’s all over town!”

He stared at her at this, aghast.“All over town?”

“Yes! It’s not a secret, if that’s what you think.”

He was still staring at her, his face ashen now. She wriggled out of his arms, and this time he let go, looking absolutely shell-shocked.

“And let me tell you that I, for one, don’t believe a word of it,” she said. “That whole story about the mayor’s wife? I think you made that up. I think you’re a brute and you went too far that day and you molested that woman.”

He blinked, finally coming out of his stupor when her words hit him. Surprised, she watched as a look of torment came over his face.“We’re done here, Miss Poole,” he said in a voice so quiet she had to strain her ears to pick up the words. “We’re done here,” he repeated, then started to walk away from her, his back straight, his shoulders stiff and his demeanor unreadable.

And as she watched him walk away, she realized what she’d done. The only two people in town he’d entrusted with his secret were her father and her uncle. In Chase’s mind one of them must have betrayed his confidence. How else could she have known? And now he would confront either or both of these men, and would probably never trust them again. She’d really done it this time. Maybe he’d even resign and leave Hampton Cove because of her. Chase Kingsley was obviously a proud man, and might simply walk away.

“Chase!” she called out, and hurried after him. “Chase! Come back!”

She caught up with him just as he reached his car, a pickup like hers, but more dilapidated. He whirled around.“What?” he asked, his jaw working.

“I, um…” She didn’t know what to say for a moment. How could she explain that she got all of her information from her cat? That was simply ludicrous. But how else could she have known? In his mind her father had broken his trust, or her uncle. She needed to tell him the truth, no matter howimprobable it might sound. Or… “I’ll tell you where I heard the story.”

“I know. All over town,” he gritted out.

“No! No, I’m the only one that knows. And… and Beah.”

He stared at her, his face inscrutable, and folded his massive arms across his chest, leaning against the truck. He wasn’t giving her an inch. “Go on.”

“I… I worked for theNew York Post for six months, as an intern, right after I finished college. I didn’t like it out there, though, and pretty quickly returned to Hampton Cove, where Dan had always promised me a spot on his paper. He was getting on in years, and couldn’t do it all by himself anymore. The work maybe wasn’t as exciting as working for one of the big papers, but it was good enough for me. But while I was interning at thePost I became really close to another intern. Beah Heaves and I became friends, and even after I returned here we kept in touch. We, um, we exchange information. When she needs help on a story about the Hamptons, or I need something on New York, we help each other out.”

“So?” he grunted, his eyes remaining steadily on hers.

“Well, I called her this morning, asking about you, and she told me the story about the harassment, and…” She hesitated, licking her lips. “She also told me that a crazy rumor had done the rounds that you were set up. That the harassment charge was simply a way to make you go away.”

His frown deepened.“If this reporter friend of yours knew about this, why didn’t she pursue the story? Why was this never printed in thePost?”

She lifted an ineffectual hand.“Isn’t it obvious? Because nobody believed the rumors. They figured you started them yourself, to get off the hook.”

He shifted, giving her a slight nod.“And what do you believe?”

She cast around helplessly. To be honest, she hadn’t made up her mind.

She didn’t have to, for his jaw worked when he growled, “I see.”

And then he abruptly turned and yanked open the door of his car and slid behind the wheel. When he turned back to her, his face was a mask of determination.“Just make sure that when you print your story you make sure to get a quote from the commissioner this time. Get him on record.”

“Why?” she asked, surprised.

“Because the scumbag has never come out openly and accused me of a crime.” He gave her a grim-faced look. “Just ask him the question straight to his face, and see how he responds. I’m sure a big-shot reporter like yourself will have no trouble recognizing a blatant lie when you see it.”

With these words, he started up the truck and the engine roared to life. Before she had a chance to respond, he was racing away, wheels spinning and leaving her in a cloud of dust and wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

For some reason, she was starting to believe that Chase Kingsley just might be telling the truth after all, which meant she’d been wrong all along.

Chapter 15

Dooley and I rode in the back in silence for a while, as Odelia seemed to ponder Chase’s words. She now had two cases on her plate: a nasty murder case, and the mystery of the new policeman, and seemed adamant to solve them both. Dooley had stretched himself out on the backseat and was already snoring softly, while I was gazing at the back of Odelia’s head, wondering what else we could do for her. It was obvious the recent meeting with Chase hadn’t gone well, and judging from her silence it had made a great impact.

I wondered why this was. Why would some idiot cop cause her so much distress? She’d gone toe-to-toe with other people before—these things happen when you’re a tough-as-nails reporter—and she’d shrugged off those incidents in a heartbeat. This time the confrontation had left an indelible impression, and I thought I knew why this was. The same reason Harriet had fallen so unexpectedly for Brutus: this new cop was an alpha male. The kind of male human that made a powerful impact on the female of the species.

I’d seen it before and I now recognized the signs: Odelia was developing feelings for this cop, even though she probably didn’t know it herself.

Why else would she care whether Chase Kingsley was innocent in this whole harassment business or not? If he were simply some Mr. Nobody she would have dismissed him out of hand, but now she was almost as eager to solve his mystery as she was to solve the Paulo Frey murder.

And then I got an idea. I know, it sometimes happens, even to cats. I don’t know where these sudden moments of illumination come from, but I’m grateful they do. And no, I’m not saying I’m the smartest cat around, because I’m not, but I do have my moments of sudden brilliance, if I say so myself.

“Hey,” I said, deftly hopping into the passenger seat. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Mh?” asked Odelia without looking up. She was still deep in thought as she steered her pickup expertly down the winding road back into town.

“You want to find out if Chase is innocent, right?”

This time she did look up, and gave me a sideways glance.“Yes? So?”

“Well, if the commissioner and the mayor’s wife are having a torrid affair, it’s bound to have spilled over from his office to other places as well, right?”

“Probably,” she agreed.

“I mean, if the flames of passion are that high, they won’t be able to confine themselves to doing it in his office, right?”

She laughed at his.“I don’t know if this is an appropriate conversation for a young cat like yourself, Max.”

I puffed up my chest.“Young cat? Haven’t you ever heard of cat years? I’m not a spring chicken, honey. I’m a grownup. I can handle this stuff.”

“All right,” she said with a slight smile. “So what’s your big idea?”

“Well, it’s not as if you can walk up to the commissioner and ask him point blank if he’s having an affair with the mayor’s wife, right?”

“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she agreed with a grimace.

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Dooley from the backseat. He’d woken up and was yawning cavernously, inspiring me to follow suit.

“Max has got an idea,” said Odelia.

“Well that’s a first,” said Dooley, joining me on the front seat.

I scowled at him.“I’ll have you know I get plenty of ideas, and a lot of them are pretty smoking hot, too.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “Just tell us already. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

After a last censorious look at my friend, I continued.“Like I was telling Odelia, if the commissioner and the mayor’s wife have been doing it all over the place, as they probably have, seeing as they’re probably in love and all of that soppy stuff, someone’s bound to have noticed.”

“Someone?” asked Odelia. “I doubt that very much, Max.”

“Did I say ‘someone’? I meant ‘some cat,’ of course. Whatever humans do, there’s usually a cat around, as there’s so many of us, and humans tend not to notice we’re even there half the time. They don’t realize we’re everywhere—and we like to blab.”

“Oh, do we like to blab,” Dooley confirmed, stolidly licking his paws.

“We blab a lot.”

“All the time.”

“So there you have it!” I said triumphantly, settling back to collect my well-deserved round of applause.

But Odelia didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?”

I frowned at her. Sometimes I wonder if human intelligence is as well-developed as they seem to think it is.“I’m saying that there’s bound to be a cat out there who has seen something, and since all cats blab, probably the entire cat community of New York knows about this by now, and since cats also like to wander around, word has probably reached beyond city limits and might even have traveled as far as Hampton Cove. Do you get it now?”

Dooley didn’t seem to think she had, for he explained, “So all we need to do is find us a cat who knows a cat who knows a cat who’s seen—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, stemming the flow of words. “What Dooley means is that we need to find a cat who knows a cat who’s seen—”

“Hey! That’s what I said!” exclaimed Dooley.

“No, it’s not,” I argued.

“It is, too!”

“Not!”

“You guys!” Odelia cried, laughing. “I get the picture. So you’re telling me you’re willing to look into this whole Chase Kingsley harassment case?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I said.

“And what I’m saying too,” Dooley said.

Odelia glanced at us.“It’s very sweet of you to offer, but I don’t know…”

“Well, I do,” I said. “Not that we need to, mind you, cause us cats have a sixth sense so we already know if Chase Kingsley is telling the truth or not.”

Her eyes widened.“Oh? Sois he telling the truth?”

I stared at her, not sure how to respond. I knew a lot depended on my answer. For one thing, if she started bumping and grinding with this Chase, like humans tend to do, our lives would never be the same again. Sooner or later she’d hook up with the guy, him being an alpha male and all, and then Brutus would become part of our extended family, which would turn our lives into a living hell. On the other hand, if it was Chase she wanted, it was Chase she should get, for deep down I thought he wasn’t as bad as all that, asmen went. And God knows that Odelia deserved to get herself a decent guy for once, especially after that creep Sam she’d dated last time. Dooley and I had warned her the guy was up to something, but she hadn’t listened, and not only had he turned out to be a grade-A creep, but a nasty little thief, too.

“Look, I’ll tell you what I think, but on one condition,” I finally said.

“What’s that?” she asked tensely.

“Yeah, what’s that, Max?” Dooley chimed in.

“You have to get that cat of his neutered! It’s the only way I’m ever going to tolerate him living with us.”

“You’ve got a point, Max,” Dooley admitted. “Fix Brutus or else.”

Odelia stared at us.“Brutus living with us? What are you talking about?”

I sighed.“You know as well as we do that you like the guy, honey. Once you guys move in together and start nesting and making babies, Brutus becomes a fixture. The only way to take him down a peg or two is to fix him.”

“Yeah, that’ll fix him,” said Dooley.

To my surprise, Odelia burst out laughing.

“Hey, this is not a joke!” I reminded her. “Our lives are at stake here.”

“Our very lives,” Dooley muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off.

“You really think that Chase and I…” She shook her head, still laughing. “So you actually think that Chase and I are going to move in together?”

“Of course! Isn’t it obvious? You like the guy and he likes you, so you’re bound to end up together at some point in the future. I know humans, Odelia. I’ve studied the species extensively. I know attraction when I see it.”

She was still shaking her head, her blond hair dangling around her shoulders. She looked lovely, I thought. Sunlight slanted in through the grimy windshield and lit up her features, and made her hair shine golden. No wonder this Chase couldn’t keep from bumping into her wherever she went.

“Look, Max. I don’t know what you think you saw, but Chase and I are never going to become an item. He doesn’t even like me. In fact he hates me. And I…” She faltered, and then said stubbornly, “I don’t like him either.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep telling yourself that. Anyway, here’s the deal: promise to have Brutus fixed and I’ll tell you what kind of guy Chase Kingsley really is.”

“All right,” she said. “If Chase and I should ever get together—and that’s a very big if, mind you—I’ll talk to him about having his cat neutered.”

“Great,” I said, the prospect of Brutus having his nuts chopped off suddenly putting me in a great mood. Hey, I never said we’re always the cuddly, sweet-tempered creatures you humans seem to think we are!

“Now tell me,” she insisted. “Is Chase Kingsley innocent of these harassment charges like he claims, or is he simply lying through his teeth?”

She gazed at me expectantly, and I gave her a reassuring grin, though I doubt whether she could spot it.“He’s innocent,” I told her. “The guy’s as honest and valiant as they come. You’ve got yourself a regular white knight here, honey. Chase Kingsley would never harm a woman or touch her in anger, nor force himself upon her. I’m pretty sure the commissioner and the mayor’s wife have been very naughty, and did a real number on the guy.”

“No wonder he looks so angry all the time,” she murmured, and I thought I could see a small smile tugging at her lips. My assessment of Chase had obviously pleased her, which just went to show I was right about them.

“So what doyou think, Dooley?” she asked, keen to get a second opinion. Her dad was a doctor, after all. Getting a second opinion was what they did.

“Max’s right,” muttered Dooley, not even bothering to open his eyes. “The guy is golden.”

“That settles it,” said Odelia, now looking grim. “I’m going to expose the commissioner and the mayor’s wife and clear Chase’s name.”

I looked up in alarm.“Um, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, honey.”

“Why not? He’s been wrongfully accused. You said so yourself. It’s my job to right this wrong. It’s what I do.”

Uh-oh. I shook my head.“If you’re going after those two they’ll simply deny the whole thing and get you fired. You’ll never work in this town again.”

“Ever, ever, ever again,” muttered Dooley, who was living proof that while cats might appear to be sleeping, they’re actually fully alert.

“They can’t do that!” Odelia cried. “He doesn’t have that authority. Dan would never fire me just because the NYPD commissioner says so.”

“No, but they could make your life very difficult,” I said. “These two are up there with the happy few, honey. They’ve got powerful friends who might put the squeeze on Dan and his advertisers until he’s forced to choose between you or the survival of his paper. No, if you’re going after those two you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way: by launching a smear campaign.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a reporter. You write the story and credit an anonymous source.” I pointed at myself and Dooley. “We’re your anonymous sources, honey.”

“But how can I go after him? I don’t have a single shred of proof.”

“Leave that to us,” I said. “First we’ll find ourselves a witness of the commissioner’s indiscretions, and then we’ll get you your proof. Like I said, someone somewhere saw those two, and, like with cats, nowadays smartphones are pretty much ubiquitous, so someone’s bound to have snapped a picture, even if they don’t know its importance. And once those pictures surface, they’ll corroborate the story you’re about to write.”

She smiled down at me.“You guys are really special, do you know that?”

“I do know that,” I acknowledged. “Of course we’re special.”

“Just like Babe,” Dooley muttered.

“Just like Babe,” I said. Dooley had been right all along. We were special, and we didn’t even have to speak sheep to prove it. Or dance like penguins.

Chapter 16

Odelia pulled the car up in front of the police station, and let the cats out. Dooley seemed reluctant to be shifted, so Max gave him a poke and he finally relented, muttering something about never being allowed to get any sleep.

“We have a job to do, Dooley,” said Max solemnly. “Sleep can wait.”

She watched the two cats stalk off, launching their all-important mission, and smiled to herself. If it hadn’t been for her special talent of being able to talk to cats, her life would have looked quite different. She walked into the police station and waltzed straight past Dolores, who announced that this time the chief was in, and would be more than happy to see her.

Happy or not, he was going to see her anyway. She needed to know what the medical examiner had discovered.

“Hey, Odelia,” said her uncle when she breezed into his office. “I was just going to call you.” And he held up his phone as proof of these words.

She plunked down in a chair and gave him a tense look. All this business with Chase had only served to take her mind off the murder case, which was probably a whole lot more important than whether the detective was innocent of the crime he’d been accused of or not.

“Shoot,” she finally said. “How did Paulo Frey die?”

“Well,” said her uncle, leaning back in his chair, “looks like bludgeoning.”

“Bludgeoning?”

“The guy had his head smashed in. And since we found a poker next to the body, that just might be our murder weapon. Especially since it was a little bent out of shape, exactly the shape of a person’s head, actually.”

She whistled through her teeth.“That must have been some hit.”

“Yeah, whoever killed him hit him so hard they fractured his skull, which, according to the ME, is what caused his death. And a good thing, too.”

“That’s a little harsh. You didn’t even know the guy.”

Her uncle emitted a chuckle.“I mean that if he’d been stabbed or had his throat slit we might never have found out, as the body was too decomposed.”

“Anything else? Chase told me you pinpointed time of death?”

“Yeah, the techies discovered that Frey used to sync his smartphone to his laptop, which was an automated process, apparently. The last time he did was September sixteen, which is also the last time the laptop was accessed.”

“Because it ended up in the cesspit along with the body.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you get anything off his phone?”

“Nope. We’re checking his laptop, but so far it hasn’t yielded any clues.”

“No webcam picture of the killer bending over the victim while he was busy working on his next masterpiece?”

He laughed.“Now wouldn’t that be something? But no. No picture of the killer.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He gave her a quick look. “Chase tells me you keep popping up wherever he goes?”

“I could say the same thing about him.”

“It’s driving him nuts,” said her uncle with a grin. “I guess NYPD cops aren’t used to reporters interviewing suspects and going over the crime scene.”

“I guess not,” she said with a smile.

“You talked to Aissa Spring and Gabby Cleret, so there’s not much you don’t already know, I guess,” he said, checking a file on his desk.

“Apart from the fact that Paulo Frey was not a nice person? I guess not.”

“Yeah, he was a piece of work, all right,” her uncle admitted. “I talked to Hetta Fried, by the way.”

“The owner of the Writer’s Lodge? What did she have to say?”

“Well, apparently Frey never paid his bills. He had this thing where he simply ignored any reminder she’d send him until she threatened with a lawsuit. Then he’d pay up, but only a fraction of the total amount.”

“But why? I thought he was rich.”

Her uncle shrugged.“Maybe that’s how he got rich? He hadn’t paid his bills for the last two years.”

“And she still allowed him to come back?”

“Sure. Having a big-name author like him was good for business. Just the mention of his name on the website attracted a lot of lesser writers, who wanted to write in the same place as the master, hoping to catch some of the magic.” The last word he said making air quotes.

“I can’t imagine Hetta would kill him over unpaid bills, though.”

“Me neither. She wasn’t going to kill the goose with the golden eggs, even if he didn’t pay his bills. Besides, this murder is murder on her business. She told me she’s received a dozen cancellations already and might have to close down the lodge if this keeps up.”

“I guess lesser writers don’t want to write where the master got killed.”

“I guess not,” he said with a grin. “Oh, and I also talked to the production company that went belly up after that Indiana Jones fracas.”

She sat up. Now that was a valuable lead.“And? Any suspects?”

He studied his notes.“I talked to one of the principals, and he didn’t have a lot of good things to say about Frey. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many four-letter words in such a short space of time. But he also assured me he didn’t kill Frey. And yes, I checked his alibi,” he said before she could ask. “You’re talking to an old dog here, honey. I know how to do my job. The guy was at a party in Beverly Hills, and so was his partner. So no dice.”

“Too bad,” she said, disappointed. That was such a good lead. Then she brightened. “Maybe they hired a professional to get rid of Frey?”

He stared at her.“Odelia, honey, movie producers don’t go around having people killed. It’s Hollywood, not the Mob.”

She shrugged.“Just saying. It’s a possibility.”

“A very implausible one.”

“So, um…” She stared at the desk. “Have you heard from Chase?”

He eyed her with a humorous expression on his face.“Yeah, he told me he saw you snooping around the lodge. He also told me you almost broke your neck.”

“I didn’t break my neck,” she protested. “I would have been perfectly fine if he hadn’t started badgering me, causing me to lose my footing.”

“So he caused you to lose your footing, huh? How did that happen?”

She noticed he was grinning from ear to ear, and glared at him. He was just as bad as Max and Dooley. Did everyone think she had the hots for Chase Kingsley?“He caught me just as I was trying to get into the place.”

“You should have asked for the key,” he said, still smiling.

“I didn’t think about that,” she admitted.

“Well, you wouldn’t have found anything of importance in there anyway. We searched that place top to bottom. Went over it with a crime scene team.”

“No fingerprints?”

“Oh, sure. Lots and lots of them. That place gets rented out on a weekly basis, honey, and let me tell you, Rohanna Coral, whatever her other qualities, is a lousy cleaner. We found dust that hadn’t been shifted in years.”

“Yeah, I talked to Rohanna. She said Frey was a good tipper.”

“At least someone got some money out of the guy.”

They stared at each other for a beat.“So who killed him, Chief?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he grumbled. “And I’m also sure you’ll find out.”

She laughed.“And why is that?”

“You’ve got skills, honey. Skills that no one else has. So…”

She stared at him. She’d long suspected that her uncle knew about the special talent she’d inherited from his sister. Dad knew, of course. You can’t live with three generations of women and not know. Had Marge told her brother? Or had he noticed her uncommon affinity with cats growing up together? She gave him a grateful smile now. If he knew about their secret, he certainly hadn’t told anyone. “Thanks, Uncle Alec.”

He seemed taken aback.“What for?”

“For letting me be a part of the investigation. And for your confidence.”

He made a throwaway gesture.“Oh, nonsense. Anyone with a brain can see you’re a natural at this stuff, honey.”

“Chase Kingsley can’t see it.”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “Chase is new. He’s got a lot to learn about Hampton Cove and the way we do things around here. I’m sure that over time he’ll start to see what a great addition you make to the team, in a non-official capacity. Now what are your plans? Where do we go from here?”

She chewed her lip for a moment, then suddenly remembered something.“You know, when I talked to Gabby, she mentioned something about there probably being other people out there that Frey must have slandered. How about I try to find those other victims? Maybe one of them finally snapped?”

“Great idea,” he grunted. “Chase said something similar.”

“Oh, Chase is looking into that angle too, huh?”

Uncle Alec scratched his scalp.“He’s a great detective, actually.” He eyed her wearily for a moment. “You may not see eye to eye with the guy, but he’s a first-rate sleuth, and, just like you, a great addition to the team.”

She nodded.“I know. It’s just that he rubs me the wrong way, especially when he insists I’m just a nosy reporter and should mind my own business.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, he’ll get over that. I’m sure that’s just a big-city kind of thing. Now that he’s here in the sticks, he’ll see we do things differently.”

And with these wise words, he waved her off.

Chapter 17

Walking out of the police station, she wondered what her next course of action should be. How could she figure out who Frey’s other victims were? And then she got it. All manner of vile abuse these days was done on social media sites. So where better to start her search than by going through Frey’s feeds? If he’d targeted people, she was bound to find the evidence right there.

She headed back to the office and for the next couple of hours meticulously went through Frey’s Facebook page, his Twitter feed and his Instagram. She even read his blog, and when she finally had enough, her view of Paulo Frey had taken a nosedive, if that was even possible.

The man was simply a troll, and not one of the nice cuddly ones with the brightly colored hair either, but a vicious, nasty one who stalked anyone he disagreed with. He’d engaged in online warfare with so many people it was a miracle he hadn’t been killed sooner. Gabby Cleret was only the tip of the iceberg. Over the course of the last couple of years, he’d fought with so many people she wondered why people still bothered to read his books. Surely readers must have discovered what a dreadful person he was by now?

But instead of abandoning him in droves, he’d actually garnered support for his trollish behavior. A group of rabid followers, calling themselves the UnaFreyds, admired his boldness and the way he dared say what others didn’t, and had enthusiastically endorsed his attacks on reporters, actors, politicians and anyone else he didn’t agree with. When he’d disagreed with a reporter for theNew York Times, they’d actually gone after the man IRL, which was short for In Real Life, by picketing his house. The man had finally been forced to move to an undisclosed location with his wife and kid.

Holy crap, she thought as she sat back. This guy was the worst of the worst. No wonder someone had taken a poker to the back of his head. The only question was who? Who of the dozens of people he’d harassed had finally taken matters into their own hands and ended the guy’s reign of terror? It appeared there were a great number of candidates. All they needed to do was check them one by one, to see if they’d been in town that day.

She quickly compiled a list of the most egregious displays of online abuse, and emailed it to Uncle Alec. Then she rubbed her eyes and closed her laptop. Tonight she had that dinner with Chase Kingsley to look forward to, and if Max was right—and she had no doubt in her mind that he was—she owed the guy an apology. She wasn’t going to offer him one, though, for his behavior against her didn’t warrant one. She wasn’t the commissioner and she hadn’t gotten him fired from his job, so why he had to be so angry with her she didn’t know. Sure, he had a bone to pick with thePost, but she wasn’t thePost. She was just a small-town reporter who had a newspaper to fill.

Which reminded her that the Paulo Frey case wasn’t the only article that needed writing. So for the next couple of hours, she diligently typed up an article on the upcoming opening of a new flower shop on Bleecker Street, an article on the new Children’s Room in the library—courtesy of her mother—and a small article on the mermaid festival that was taking place down at the marina. Anyone who wanted to compete had to show up in their best mermaid’s costume and prove they could swim. The jury awarded a prize to the best one, and a picture would be featured on the front page of the paper.

Thinking of pictures… She quickly transferred the pictures she’d taken at the crime scene to her laptop, and leafed through them. She’d taken a couple of the pit, and suddenly got an idea. Uncle Alec said they’d gotten Frey’s laptop to work but hadn’t found any evidence on it so far. What if she could takea closer look at it? Now that she knew what kind of man Frey was, it stood to reason he’d been threatened over the years. What if he kept some of that stuff on his computer? Maybe it could provide a clue to the murderer?

She fired off another email to her uncle, asking him if she could take a look at the laptop, and he immediately wrote back to tell her she was more than welcome to have a peek, along with the other stuff they found in the pit.

Most of her work for the day done, she breezed into Dan’s office.

“All done?” he asked, looking up from his own computer.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I haven’t solved the Frey murder. Yet. But the rest is all done.”

He laughed.“You’re incredible, Odelia. You know,” he said, removing his glasses and starting to polish them with the hem of his shirt, “I think you’re going to solve this murder. I really do.”

“Of course I’m going to solve this murder,” she said with humorous bluster. “Who do you think I am? Some talentless hack?”

“No, you’re definitely not a talentless hack,” he agreed. “In fact I think hiring you was probably the best decision I ever made in a long career. Now shoo. I’ll finish up here.”

She grinned at the aged editor.“See you, Dan.”

“See you, honey. Say hi to your folks for me.”

“Will do.”

As she climbed into her pickup, she took in the empty passenger seat, and wondered if Max and Dooley would have remembered the other story she’d been working on today: the secret affair of the NYPD commissioner and the mayor’s wife. And as she started up the car, she hoped they’d find proof of Chase’s innocence. But even if they didn’t, she knew they’d called it: the guy was innocent. She now realized she’d known all along,but had allowed her instincts to be clouded by her annoyance with the guy.

Chase might be a pain in the behind, but he was not a molester of women.

She now wondered if maybe deep down she already knew who Frey’s killer was. She thought for a moment. Somewhere at the back of her mind, the kernel of an idea was tugging, but she couldn’t quite catch it. Something she’d missed. But what? And where? And, more importantly, who?

Chapter 18

I think I’d been a little too optimistic when I told Odelia I’d solve this mystery in a heartbeat. Dooley and I had been traipsing all over town, talking to any cat we could find, and so far had nothing to show for our efforts. None of them had an inkling of who Chase Kingsley was, or the commissioner of the NYPD, or even the mayor’s wife for that matter, nor did they care.

Instead, they all shook their heads, convinced we’d both gone off our rockers. I should have known, of course. Cats, as you may or may not know, like to stick close to home. They like to wander around, preferably at night, when the world is asleep, in search of mice or other little snacks, but never stray far, for they like to be home before dawn, curl up at the foot of a warm, soft bed, and wait until their human wakes up to fill up their bowl of kibble.

We used to be proud hunters once upon a time, but centuries of being fed and nurtured by humans have made us lazy and complacent. New York is another continent, as far as we are concerned, and rarely do we even venture outside of Hampton Cove these days. Why should we, when all we need is right here at home?

Even my theory that we might run into a cat who’d met a cat who’d talked to a cat who’d witnessed the commissioner and the mayor’s wife in the act was pretty far-fetched, I now saw. Cats rarely travel. Dogs love to ride in cars, their heads stuck out the window, tongues lolling in the breeze, but then we all know dogs are a bunch of dummies. Cats are dignified creatures. We wouldn’t be seen dead with our tongues hanging out and our faces flapping.

And then there was the fact that both Dooley and I were bone-tired. Daytime is sleeping time, and we’d skipped nap time to go out hiking in the woods, and to play detective across town. It also explained why there weren’t all that many cats around, and those that were, didn’t want to be disturbed. The best time to do this was at night, Dooley reminded me as we dragged our weary bodies alongthe strip mall, on the edge of town.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “Let’s call it quits and do this again tonight, when there are more cats around. Maybe we’ll have better luck then.”

“I kinda doubt it, Max,” said Dooley. “Considering all the cats we talked to laughed in our faces, I think our chances of finding the one cat that saw the mayor of New York having relations with the commissioner are slim.”

“Mayor’s wife,” I corrected him tiredly. “The mayor’s wife is having relations with the commissioner, not the mayor.”

“Who cares?” Dooley cried. It was obvious he was getting cranky.

And we were just about to call it a day and return to our cozy home, when I happened to glance at a set of dumpsters located behind the mall and recognized a familiar figure snooping around in there.

“Don’t look now, but I think I just saw Clarice,” I whispered, even though she probably couldn’t hear me from this distance.

“Clarice? Where?” Dooley asked, immediately starting to look around like a tourist on a tour bus.

“I said, don’t look now,” I hissed. “She’s over there by those dumpsters.”

I watched as the scrawny feline dove into one of the dumpsters, obviously fishing around for something edible.

“Poor creature,” Dooley said ruefully. “No home, no hearth, and no food.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she’s luckier than us. At least she gets to choose her food. I’ll bet there’s some choice stuff in those dumpsters.”

“I see what you mean,” he said. “Do you think there’s raw meat in there?”

“Raw meat, pizza, lasagna, a nice beef burger. You name it, they got it.”

“Maybe we’ll have a peek?” he suggested. “I need me some raw meat.”

“What’s with this sudden raw meat obsession?”

He shrugged.“I can’t help it that Brutus gets fed raw meat and I don’t, can I? And that because of that he’s better looking and more attractive.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” I intimated.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he’s lying? He wouldn’t be the first cat to turn out a liar.”

“You mean he’s lying about the meat?”

“Why not? There’s no way for us to check.”

“He’s just messing with us!” cried Dooley. “And deceiving poor Harriet.”

“Don’t feel sorry for Harriet. If she chooses that brute it’s her funeral.”

“Funeral!” he cried, his voice skipping an octave. “Do you really believe that horrible creep would hurt her?”

“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said irritably. The longer I was up, the more cranky I was becoming as well. I needed a nap and some food and I needed it an hour ago. First things first, though. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?” I suggested, and started tripping over to the dumpsters.

“A chat?” he asked, falling into step beside me. “With who?”

“With whom,” I corrected him. We might be cats, but that was no excuse for a lapse in grammar. “Who do you think?”

“Is this a trick question?” he whined. “Don’t do this to me, Max. Not when I’m tired. Just tell me already. Whommmm are we going to chat with?”

“Clarice, of course.”

He gulped.“Clarice? Are you nuts? She’ll just tell us she saw nuthin.”

“Well, maybe she will, or maybe she won’t. But it’s definitely worth a try.”

Of all the cats I knew in Hampton Cove, Clarice was the one who’d traveled the most and traveled the farthest. She had to, to find food and shelter, as she didn’t have a human to take care of her. Once upon a time, the rumor went, she’d had a human, but he’d abandoned her. Some tourist who came to Hampton Cove for the holidays, and then tied her to a tree out in the woods and took off. The same rumor held that she’d gnawed off her own paw to escape, like James Franco, though from what I’d seen her limbs were still present and accounted for, so that story might just have been a fabrication.

“Clarice,” I called out as we approached the dumpster she was currently holed up in. “Clarice, we’d like to talk to you.” The small collection of dumpsters was where the stores the mall was comprised of dumped their garbage, and was always a place where all manner of critters gathered.

When Clarice’s head popped up out of the dumpster, looking shifty-eyed and ready to flee, Dooley chimed in, “Hey, Clarice. So we meet again, huh? What are the odds?” He looked a little afraid, and with good reason. Clarice had been known to lash out when she was approached without invitation.

“We were just wondering—” I began.

“I know nuthin,” she muttered, repeating her usual mantra.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, a little gruffly. I wasn’t in the mood for games. I was tired and hungry and my paws hurt. “Look, all we need to know is whether you know a cat who knows a cat who might have seen a cat who…”

“I know nuthin,” Clarice repeated.

“See? I told you this was a waste of time,” said Dooley. He’d planted himself on his rear end and was sniffing the air, probably looking for meat.

“Look, we just want to know—”

“I know nuthin!” she repeated, and jumped out of the dumpster, giving us both the dirtiest of looks and starting to walk away.

“Now hold it right there!” I cried. “All we want is information. Is that too much to ask? If you tell us what we need to know we’ll even share our kibble with you next time you’re in the neighborhood. Isn’t that right, Dooley?”

Dooley stared at me. He obviously didn’t agree. If anyone was going to share his kibble, it was going to be me. Well, that was fine by me. From experience I knew that fresh kibble was only a trip to the store away.

I panted a little, because Clarice was giving me her best stare. Locked in a stare-down with the most feral cat in Hampton Cove. If she lashed out now and scratched my nose, that would set the seal on this day. To my surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Oh, all right, Max, you annoying little weasel. What do you wanna know?”

Relieved, I told her about the murder of Paulo Frey. It turned out that the Writer’s Lodge was like a second home to her. Which, now that I thought about it, wasn’t surprising. Writers are an easy mark for a cat’s affections, as a lot of them genuinely like us. Most of them got cats at home, and when they come out to the woods to write they miss their little furballs. So when they see Clarice lurking in the woods, they try to lure her by offering her the best treats. I now saw what her MO was, and with it came a newfound respect.

“Well, I don’t know anything about that Chase Kingsley affair,” she finally said, “and I don’t care one hoot either. What humans do is none of my business. What I can tell you is I saw someone drag the body of that writer out of the lodge a year ago, so I’m guessing that might have beenyour killer.”

Dooley and I exchanged excited glances.“You saw the killer?” I asked.

“Sure, sure,” she said, studying her nails, which were razor-sharp. “They dragged the body of that Frey guy out of the lodge and dumped it where they like to do their business. Made a nice big splash, too. Then they came out again and dumped a bunch of other stuff in there.”

“A laptop and a couple of suitcases,” I said.

“Sure, sure,” she said, rolling her eyes, already bored with the conversation.

“So?” I asked when she was silent for a beat. “Who was it?!”

“Yeah, Clarice,” Dooley huffed out. “Who’s the killer?”

“What’s it worth to you?” she asked, removing a fishbone from between her teeth and giving it a tentative nibble.

“Whatever you want,” I said excitedly.

“I’ll take a twenty-pound bag of fish kibble. The expensive stuff. And a couple bags of that party mix you guys seem to like so much. Mixed grill.”

“Deal!” I cried.

Clarice gave a chuckle, spit out the fishbone and suddenly, fast as lightning, flicked a paw beneath the dumpster and came away with a mouse, dragging it out by its tail. And then, before our horrified gaze, she gobbled down the mouse, hair and hide!

I gulped and so did Dooley. We weren’t necessarily mouse hunters, what with having such a cushy life and all, and watching this… massacre taking place in front of our noses reminded us we were as far removed from our feral ancestors as felinely possible.

“So, those are my terms,” Clarice said, spitting out the mouse tail and using it to pick her teeth. “I want the best stuff. Take it or leave it.”

“Sure! Fine! All right!” I cried. “I can get you all that and more.”

I was pretty sure that Odelia wouldn’t mind trading a couple of expensive bags of cat food for the identity of the Paulo Frey killer. It was a bargain!

Clarice held up her paw, then sliced it with the nail of her other paw. A small drop of blood dribbled down. I thought I was going to faint at the sight of the blood, and it was obvious Dooley was feeling the same way.

“Put it there, fellas,” she said in that gravelly voice of hers. “Let’s seal the deal with blood.”

“Is that really necessary?” asked Dooley in a choked voice.

“No blood, no deal,” growled Clarice.

“What is this, the Middle Ages?” squeaked Dooley. “I thought we were past all this nonsense.”

“All right, all right,” I said, fearing Clarice would change her mind. So I held up my left paw and made a small incision. A drop of blood appeared, and I suddenly felt queasy. That’s the curse of being a house cat: you lose those killer instincts.

“Now you, Dooley,” I said.

“Yeah. Now you, Dooley,” said Clarice in a mocking voice. “Put it there, pal.” She was simply taunting us, I realized. Playing with us, as if we were mice.

“I—I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t stand the sight of blood. And I—I hate the pain!” he added with a pathetic whiny voice.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Clarice grunted. “What are you, a cat or a mouse? Come here, you pansy-ass puss.” And with a vicious slicing movement, she scratched Dooley’s nose.

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

“Because you’re a whiny little pussy,” she said, and put her hand up to his nose, giving it a hearty pat. “Now you, Max. Slap one on this sissy’s nose.”

I put my paw against hers and Dooley’s nose, so that our blood mingled. It was a very unhygienic business, I thought, and as I did it, I winced. Dooley mewled with apparent pain, and obviously didn’t like his nose squeezed between my paw and Clarice’s. He bore it bravely, though, probably because he didn’t have any choice. Ifhe ran for the hills now, Clarice would hunt him down and eat him alive, just like she’d swallowed down that mouse.

Clarice finally grunted her approval.“It’s not your regular blood oath,” she said as she gave Dooley a nasty glare, “but I guess it’ll do.”

And, as promised, she proceeded to put us on the scene she’d witnessed over a year ago, when Paulo Frey had lost his life. Both Dooley and I gasped when we finally learned the identity of the killer, and stared at each other in abject horror. All this time I’d figured that some outsider had done the terrible deed, and not one of our own, but now it turned out that evil had been much closer than we’d figured. We’d harbored a viper at our bosoms, and Hampton Cove would never be the same again after this startling revelation.

“So I’ll come and collect one of these days,” Clarice reminded me, and then seemed to take pity on us. “Cheer up, boys,” she snarled. “It’s a tough world. Kill or be killed. No need to get all mushy on me. You’re cats, for crying out loud, not pansies. Learn to love the pain! Love it!”

After dispensing these pearls of wisdom, she trotted off, leaving bloody paw prints behind. Long after she’d left, Dooley and I still sat there, staring into space, Dooley with blood dripping down his nose, which he occasionally licked, trying to heal the wound, and me holding up my paw and also licking it in a steady rhythm. I wasn’t going to go walkabout now, not with that cut. It just might infect and cause gangrene and then my entire leg would have to come off, and how would I look then? I know, I know. Dooley and I are not exactly feral. Sue us. We’re house cats, used to the good life. Used to being pampered and spoiled. At least we’d just solved the Paulo Frey murder.

After what seemed like the longest time, we set a course for the homestead, and Dooley was the first one to break the silence.

“Who would have thought?”

“Yeah, who would have thunk?”

We didn’t speak again. We were both bone-tired, and the moment we arrived home, we both dropped our weary bodies down, me on my favorite spot on the couch, and Dooley right next to me. He’d asked to crash at my place, as he didn’t want to risk coming across Harriet and Brutus, and I’d magnanimously agreed. Dooley and I are like brothers, and my space is his space. Besides, we’d just made a blood oath, so now we were blood brothers.

And then we both fell into a deep, healing sleep, dreaming of cruel killers and feral cats and big bags of the best kibble Odelia’s money could buy.

Chapter 19

Odelia parked the pickup across the street from the library. It was located on its own patch of land, and fronted by a small garden that sported several flower beds and looked as colorful, cozy and inviting as the library itself, the place where her mother Marge had worked all her life. A neo-Elizabethan style building, it looked like something transported from England and plunked down here. Once inside, it got even better, as high ceilings and open spaces invited you in. Hampton Covians young and old gathered here to find their favorite book or to listen to one of the writers occasionally asked to read from their work.

Recently the library had been expanded with a children’s wing, which was now the pride and talk of the town. Odelia didn’t have to look long for her mother, who was at the desk, checking out a couple of books for a young mother and her two kids. While she waited until her mom was free, Odelia strode to the newspaper and magazine nook and took a seat. A copy of her very ownHampton Cove Gazette was on display, right next to the big boys like theNew York Times, theWashington Post andUSA Today. Of course the local press was also represented:Dan’s Papers and theEast Hampton Star had pride of place.

She picked up a copy ofTime Magazine and saw that it featured an article on Paulo Frey, on the occasion of his disappearance one year ago. She leafed through the article, and saw that the reporter, like most people, simply assumed the writer had gone off to write a novel somewhere on an exotic island, and would soon return clutching a voluminous tome that would prove his masterpiece. Little did they know he’d been resting at the bottom of a pit all this time.

She placed the magazine back on the stand and wandered over to the new children’s section, past rows and rows of neatly indexed books. The children’s room sported a large boat, where kids could sit and read, and other creative nooks as well, all in a bid to inspire the new generation to take up the habit of picking up a book from time to time. In this day and age of electronic devices, it was sometimes hard to get kids to read, when they could watch a cartoon on their tablet computer instead, and the new wing had been designed to provide kids with a sense of curiosity about the world of books, and to instill them with a love for the medium that would hopefully last a lifetime.

“Great space, huh?” her mother asked when she joined her. Marge Poole was a fine-boned woman with long blond hair, just like her daughter, and soft, brown eyes that spoke of her humanity. She was soft-spoken and sweet-tempered, and had been a mainstay at the library for the past thirty years.

She now stepped into the boat and picked up a picture book of Jonah and the Whale and started flipping its pages. Odelia joined her and picked up a Garfield comic book. Garfield always reminded her of Max.

“So how are things at the paper?” Marge asked.

“Great,” said Odelia. The boat was even more spacious than she’d imagined, even for two grownups, so she gathered for kids it was enormous. “I’m working on an article about the Paulo Frey murder case.”

“I heard about that,” said her mother, looking up. “What a horrible thing to happen in Hampton Cove. Who would have thought something like this was even possible? It’s more something you’d expect in New York, not here.”

“Yeah, it’s not something that happens every day,” she agreed, then decided to broach a topic that might lead her into trouble. “Dad told me you invited that new cop for dinner? Chase Kingsley?”

Her mother’s face lit up with a smile. “Such a nice young man. I figured since he’s new in town, it would be nice to offer him a home-cooked meal and show him that Hampton Cove is a genuinely hospitable town.”

“So you met him, huh?”

“Alec brought him by the library yesterday to introduce him.”

“He, um…” She hesitated. “Did he tell you about his previous career?”

“Well, Alec told me that Chase used to work for the NYPD.”

“Did he also tell you how he got fired?”

Her mom’s eyes widened. “Fired? No, he didn’t tell me about that.”

In a few brief words she explained why it was that Hampton Cove had suddenly gained a policeman while the NYPD had lost one. She also added that Max and Dooley were convinced that the man was innocent of the charges, and that they’d set out to prove it.

“Of course he’s innocent,” said her mother now. “A man like that could never be guilty of such a heinous crime. Harassment, no less. I think I would recognize a molester when I saw one, and Chase definitely isn’t one. In fact I’m surprised you thought for a moment he could be guilty of such a crime.”

She shrugged.“Like I told Dad, we got off on the wrong foot. He took a dislike to me, simply because I’m a reporter, and then things escalated.”

“We’ll settle all of that tonight. You and Chase can take a stroll after dinner and work things out. Kiss and make up,” she said blithely.

She blinked, and felt her cheeks redden.“Um, I don’t know about that,” she said. “He seems to hate my guts, especially after…”

Her mother frowned.“After what?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, idly toying with a particularly colorful troll that was placed on the edge of the boat. Which reminded her… “Did you know that Frey had a reputation for trolling people? Especially women and gays?”

“No, I didn’t,” said her mother, surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty much. He trolled Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring and a lot of others. Turns out he wasn’t such a nice person, and whoever killed him was probably one of his victims.”

“I simply can’t imagine. He was in here often, you know.”

This surprised her.“He was?”

“Well, as a writer of his stature we took every opportunity to invite him for readings. He was extremely accommodating and always proved a big hit.”

She gave her mother a grin.“So you can’t recognize a molester of women after all, huh?”

Marge pursed her lips in disapproval.“Are you sure those aren’t just rumors and gossip? Paulo Frey never struck me as an unpleasant man. Quite the contrary. I thought he was extremely charming, and eager to please.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Mom,” she said, remembering Aissa’s story, and Gabby’s harrowing tale. “He was actually a very nasty person.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re right,” said her mother, fiddling with a troll. They were placed throughout the library because of a special screening of the movieTrolls. Justin Timberlake was supposed to attend and sing a song.“I just hope they catch his killer soon. I’d hate for anyone else to get hurt.”

“I don’t think anyone else is going to get hurt. This was personal.”

“Well, I’m sure Alec and Chase will capture the killer soon enough.”

“Not if I catch him first.”

This elicited a frown from her mother.“Honey, you’re not a police officer. You’re a reporter. Why don’t you leave this nasty business to Alec?”

“Because I have an instinct for solving crime, Mom, even Alec said so.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to go and willingly put yourself in harm’s way, honey. Messing around with murder is extremely dangerous.”

“I’m sure that this killer only ever intended to make one victim,” she said, brushing off her mother’s concerns. Mom was always worried about her safety. She’d been even more worried when she’d been away in New York, in college, and only came home on the weekends. Now that she was home again, living next door, she still worried. Even though she was proud that her little girl was a reporter, she’d much rather have seen her pursue a career fraught with less danger. Like a doctor, following in her father’s footsteps.

In her mother’s hopes and dreams for her future, she’d always seen her work alongside her father, so she could take over the practice when he retired one day. Even her father had faintly harbored that wish. But she’d never had any interest in the medical profession. Journalism had been her first love, andshe’d always known that when she grew up she’d be a reporter, just like Dan. Even though she’d had loftier ambitions at the time. She’d always wanted to be a reporter for one of the big papers. Or even one of the big networks. But she’d soon discovered that at heart she was a small-town girl, and had to accept she’d never make a career in New York. She’d never fly overseas to cover a war, or interview the leaders of the world gathered in Davos. And she was fine with that. She was happy right here in Hampton Cove, covering the opening of a new library wing, or the mermaid festival.

“Look, this is what I do, Mom,” she said. “And I’m sure that whoever this killer is, isn’t going to come after me.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked her mother, worry etched on her features.

“Call it a hunch. This killer isn’t a serial killer. It’s someone pushed too far by Frey. Someone who decided enough was enough. Whoever this is, isn’t going to kill again, I’m sure of it.”

“Unless you get too close,” said her mother, looking fearful. “And then they will lash out, simply to keep you from discovering the truth about them.”

“That’s not gonna happen. You know me. I’m always very careful.”

“I wish you’d just leave all this business to your uncle Alec and this nice young policeman, honey. They can protect themselves. They’re trained to.”

She saw she would never be able to convince her mother, so she decided to change the subject.“Any idea how to convince Hampton Cove that Chase Kingsley is innocent of the crime he’s been accused of?”

Her mother frowned at this.“Convince? Why, there’s nothing to prove. Anyone can see he’s a perfectly nice young man with impeccable morals.”

“Not everyone is as welcoming and perceptive as you, Mom.”

She would have used the word‘naive,’ but that was a little harsh.

“I’m sure that once they get to know Chase, those rumors will go away.”

“I very much doubt it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Mom said breezily as she got out of the boat. A customer had caroled out a loud ‘Yoo-hoo!’

Odelia didn’t share her mother’s optimism. She thought that the moment the story hit the town that Chase Kingsley was a convicted criminal, they’d petition the mayor to get him fired. And if enough people signed that petition, the mayor and Uncle Alec would have no choice but to let him go. Even though until a couple of hours ago she’d believed herself that Chase was a bad person, she now saw that a gross miscarriage of justice had taken place, and that if it wasn’t rectified, this business would haunt him for the rest of his life. And even though the man was as stubborn and pigheaded as anyone she’d ever known, he didn’t deserve that.

With a sigh, she got up and climbed out of the boat. A little girl had run up and was eyeing her a little timidly. Adults usually didn’t go and sit in the children’s boat. She gave the girl a sweet smile and handed her the troll she’d been holding. “The boat is all yours, honey,” she said. “Knock yourself out.”

She watched how the girl and her sister hopped into the boat and started playing with the trolls, then picked up a book and started reading. She smiled, wondering if one day her own kids would be sitting there, with her watching on. She firmly put the thought out of her mind. Until she met the right guy, that wasn’t a prospect she liked to dwell on.

She returned to the front of the library, and was greeted by Gran, who’d been rummaging around between the bookshelves, replacing returned books. She used a small cart to do it, which was now empty. For the occasion she was wearing a long, black coat, claiming there was a draft in the library, and she needed to protect herself. With pink hair peeping from beneath alime-green knit cap she’d placed on her head, she looked like an eighties punk rocker.

Though the weather was warm, Gran rarely left the house without one of an extensive collection of bonnets. She claimed that the winds blowing in from the ocean were worse in the summer than in winter, and that she had to protect herself against catching her death.

“So? Did you catch that killer?” asked Gran.

“Not yet, but I’m getting closer.”

“You better catch him soon. This place ain’t safe with that monster on the loose.”

“I’m sure he or she isn’t going to attack anyone else, Gran,” she promised.

“How would you know? You’re not a killer,” snapped her grandmother. “They might as well be prowling the streets as we speak, looking for their next victim.” She shivered. “I wouldn’t like to cross paths with that beast.”

“You won’t,” she said.

Gran glanced at the late customer who was still browsing. She was the mother of the two girls now happily ensconced in the children’s boat.

“I wish they wouldn’t come in five minutes before closing time,” Gran grumbled. “Don’t they know we’ve got more important things to do?”

“Like what? Playing Scrabble with Dad?”

Lately, Gran and Dad had discovered a mutual fondness for Scrabble. Gran might bitch and moan about Dad, claiming he worked her like a dog, but secretly she liked her son-in-law. She now spent her mornings helping him out by picking up the phone and guiding traffic in the waiting room, and in the afternoon helped out Mom at the library while Dad was on his own.

“I like Scrabble,” she said. “Sue me.”

“I think you like Dad,” she teased. “And Scrabble is just an excuse to spend more time with him.”

“As if!” cried the old lady. “I’m doing him a favor. My time is precious, and I’m a regular saint for devoting so much of it to your dad.” The customer dropped a book and Gran jumped. “Jeez! Wanna give me a heart attack?”

It was obvious this whole murder business had rattled her.“You know this killer will never harm you, right, Gran?” she asked.

“Tell that to the coroner when they haul my body from a cesspit.”

She laughed.“That will never happen.”

Gran glared at her.“Oh? How are you so sure?”

She shrugged.“I just know.”

“Been talking with Max again, have you? Did that cat give you a clue?”

“Not yet, but he’s out there, trying to figure out what happened.”

“Leave it to the cats to solve this crime,” she grunted. “They’re a darn lot more capable than that worthless uncle of yours.”

For some reason, Gran had never been convinced of Uncle Alec’s crime-solving capabilities, and she didn’t mind reminding him of that. She’d always hoped her son would go into politics and become the next mayor of Hampton Cove. That way she could brag to her friends. In her eyes, being a cop was nothing to brag about, apparently.

“I’m sure the Chief is very capable,” Odelia said, taking up her uncle’s defense.

“And I’m sure he’s not. Or that beefcake he’s hired to do his dirty work.”

“Beefcake? You mean Chase Kingsley?”

“I don’t know what he’s called. I just call him Captain Beefcake, on account of the fact that the looks like one of them male models you always see prancing around on the beach.”

The image of Chase prancing around on the beach suddenly flashed before her mind’s eye. She was sure from what she’d seen that the man was all lean muscle, and the image wasn’t one she wanted in her head right now.

Gran eyed her closely.“You’re sweet on the guy, aren’t you? Figures.”

“No, I’m not!”

But Gran wagged a finger in her face.“Let me give you a piece of advice, missy: Captain Hottie Beefcake is trouble with a capital T. Take it from me.”

Gran just might be right for a change, she thought ruefully. If those strange jitters in her belly were anything to go by, she was in big trouble.

Chapter 20

Dinner was served exactly at seven, with the entire Poole clan pitching in. Before dinner, Odelia had slipped over to her place to freshen up a little, and saw that the two cats lay passed out on the couch. They didn’t even stir when she breezed past and then hurried out again. In fact they looked completely bushed, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Usually they slept during the day and spent all night out and about. Today they’d snooped around all day, and were exhausted. She gave them a gentle stroke, andthen left with a smile. She’d talk to them tonight, and see if they’d been able to come up with anything.

She’d opted for linen pants and a black blouse, applying minimal makeup. She refused to go all out, not wanting Detective Kingsley to think she was dressing up for his sake. She didn’t want to reward the man’s arrogance.

They’d prepared a simple meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and veggies, with a side salad, and when their guests finally arrived, the table was set. Before dinner, aperitifs were in order, as Odelia’s dad—and Gran— liked their preprandial drink. When the doorbell rang, and Mom went to open the door, drinks were served even before Uncle Alec and Chase walked in.

Alec, who knew his way around his sister’s place, accepted his usual martini from Dad, who then offered one to Chase, who politely declined.

Odelia, looking on from the kitchen entrance, couldn’t help but notice the detective looked even more handsome than that afternoon. He’d put on a crisply fresh white cotton shirt, snugly fitting jeans low on narrow hips, and his dark brown hair curled across his brow in a sexy sweep. The man could have been an advertisement for a brand of jeans,or an advertisement for whatever. With a muscular frame like that, she’d definitely buy whatever he was selling, and she was pretty sure other women would feel the same way.

Speaking of other women, it didn’t escape her attention that the moment Chase walked into the living room, both Mom and Gran lavished their attention on him. Shaking her head, she picked up her own drink—flat water—and joined her dad and uncle out on the deck. They were already engaged in a conversation about the murder case, with Uncle Alec discussing some of the medical aspects of the case, and Dad providing his professional opinion.

Out in the yard, she saw Harriet languidly enjoying the lowering sun rays, licking her snowy white fur, while a new cat she’d never seen before, looked on. The newcomer was black as night and looked gorgeous. This, she assumed, was Brutus, and the reason Max and Dooley were in such a tizzy. She could see why. A prime specimen like this walking into their lives and stealing the attention of the only female in their small band of three, it was bound to upset the delicate balance that had existed all their lives.

“Black and white. Nice combo,” a sonorous voice spoke behind her. She knew Chase was referring to the cats, but he might as well have been talking about them, with her black blouse and his white shirt.

She squinted at the cats, who only had eyes for each other.“Is it just me but does that big, black cat look like it’s about to pounce on poor Harriet?”

“From where I’m standing it looks like he’s trying to figure out what makes her tick,” Chase said. Turning, she noticed he was clutching a drink, something amber in a tumbler. So either Gran or Mom must have persuaded him to adhere to the Poole house rules and accept an aperitif after all.

“Oh?” she asked. “So he doesn’t strike you as a lecherous creep?”

He grinned and took a sip from his drink.“Nope. He strikes me as a cat who’s in way over his head, and doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”

Now it was her turn to smile.“That’s what you get when you transport a big-city cat to a small town. They tend to underestimate the locals.”

“Yeah, you just might be right about that,” he grunted. “Though the same can be said for the locals. They tend to completely misjudge newcomers. Assign them all kinds of qualities they don’t remotely possess.”

“And what qualities might that be?” she asked sweetly. “Arrogance? Pigheadedness? Refusal to accept the status quo?”

“You seem to forget that the newcomer has a distinct advantage.”

“And what’s that?”

“The advantage of the outside view. A fresh set of eyes on a situation that may look all too familiar to those who grew up in this town, and might miss the obvious staring them in the face.”

She looked up sharply.“Why do I get the impression we’re not talking about that nasty cat of yours?”

“Nasty?” he asked with a chuckle. “There’s nothing nasty about Brutus.”

“He’s been terrorizing my cats,” she said. “Muscling in on their territory and—” She gestured at Harriet “—persecuting their poor, helpless friend.”

“That Persian doesn’t strike me as helpless,” he said. “On the contrary, she seems to enjoy the attention. In fact she downright revels in it.”

“I think she’s simply intimidated. She probably can’t wait to get away from him but is scared he might become aggressive if she makes a move.”

Now it was his turn to frown.“I’ll have you know that Brutus has never in his life needed to resort to strong-arm tactics to get a female’s attention.”

“Well, he’s not in the big city now, is he? He’s in Hampton Cove, where cats are different and might not respond to him the way he’s used to.”

He laughed.“You’re damn right about that. This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen. For one thing, in New York reporters don’t investigate crime.”

“Well, out here they do, so you better get used to it, Detective.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

She stared at him in surprise. Was he finally seeing things her way?

“Have you interviewed any more suspects?” she asked.

“If I had I wouldn’t tell you,” he said simply.

So much for seeing things her way.“I thought as much. Good thing Uncle Alec keeps me informed, otherwise I’d never be able to nail this killer.”

“Now look here, Miss Poole…”

“No, you look here, Detective. I’m going to catch this killer before you even sniff out your first clue.That’s the way we do things down here.”

“And I’ll have you know, Miss Poole, that you’re in way over your head here. Catching killers is police business, and reporters like you should stick to what they’re good at: writing about mermaids and children’s library wings.”

In spite of herself she had to smile at that. Dan must have posted her articles on the site after she left.“So you’ve been reading my stuff, huh?”

“I have,” he admitted. “I need to soak in the atmosphere so I had to start somewhere. Alec suggested I start with theGazette and take it from there.”

“You forgot about the opening of the new flower shop on Bleecker Street,” she said with a grin. “Possibly some of my best writing to date.”

“You are a great writer,” he admitted. “Which is why you should stick to that, and make sure you keep out of harm’s way.”

“Are you threatening me, Detective?” she asked, her frown returning.

“No, but the killer might, if you get too close.”

“So you’re admitting I’m getting close to solving this case, huh?”

“I’m admitting that you’re not trained to deal with a murderer on the loose, and I’d feel a lot better when you leave the sleuthing to Alec and me.”

They were at a standoff, and stood staring at each other, tension rising. But then Gran stepped in, holding up a tray of hors d’oeuvres and offering one to Chase. “Hors d’oeuvre, Detective Kingsley? I made them myself.”

He finally broke eye contact.“Thanks,” he said, popping one into his mouth.

“Has Odelia been bothering you, Detective?” Gran asked, darting a censorious glance at her granddaughter.

“She’s been making a case for inserting herself into my investigation.”

“Oh, she keeps doing that,” said Gran, clucking her tongue. “She keeps inserting herself where she shouldn’t. That’s the nosy reporter type for you.”

“Gran,” said Odelia warningly. If even her own flesh and blood was turning against her, how could she ever hope to best this overbearing cop?

“What?” asked Gran innocently. “I was just apprising Detective Kingsley of all the facts pertaining to the case. If he’s going to live and work in this town, it’s important he gets the lay of the land.”

“And I, for one, am mighty grateful for that, Mrs…”

“Muffin. Vesta Muffin,” said Gran. “I’m a widow, you know, so if you invited me over for dinner, nobody in town would talk.” She twiddled her ring-free hand in front of Chase, frivolously batting her eyes. “Free as a bird,” she said with a sound that was probably supposed to be a seductive purr but came out like a lascivious growl.

Oh, God, Odelia thought. If Gran was going to throw herself at Chase, the cop’s opinion of her family would sink even lower.

“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Muffin,” said Chase. “That’s very kind of you.” He was looking slightly bewildered at this unexpected come-on, but Odelia wasn’t liking him well enough to come to his aid. If he thought he could handle killers and murderers so much better than she could he would have no trouble handling a septuagenarian with an overactive libido.

Which reminded her of something. She gestured at the two cats out in the yard.“Is that cat of yours fixed, Detective?”

“Why do you ask?” he asked, visibly glad for the change of topic.

“Because it’s the law. Cats are supposed to be spayed or neutered.”

“Are you afraid Brutus might sow his wild oats?” he quipped with a twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t care about his oats. I’m simply concerned that our new law officer is already breaking the law, one day after arriving in town.”

“Brutus is fixed,” said Chase with a shrug. “So your precious Persian has nothing to worry about.”

“Actually she’smy precious Persian,” said Mom, joining them. She was carrying another tray. “Finger food, Detective Kingsley? I made it myself.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Poole.”

“Marge, please.”

“You’ve got a lovely home here, Marge. And a great family,” he added with an appreciative nod at Odelia and Gran. Faced with three generations of women, it was obvious the cop was enjoying the attention, and the food, though he kept eyeing Gran a little warily as she sidled up to him.

“I like your guns,” she said, licking her lips.

“My… guns?” asked Chase, automatically feeling for his absent holster.

“Do you work out a lot?” she continued, making her point clear.

“Oh, those guns,” he said. “Um, yeah, I like to hit the gym a couple times a week. Matter of trying to stay in shape in case I need to chase a bad guy.”

“I can see how that might be important for a cop,” Gran said, and made a tentative gesture in the direction of Chase’s bicep, but restrained herself at the last moment. “Are you a meat-eater, Chase?”

“Yes, ma’am, as a matter of fact I am. Why, is this a vegan household?”

“No, of course not,” said Mom. “Just the idea. Though Odelia has gone through a vegan episode lately, haven’t you, honey?”

“Ever since she broke up with that no-good loser Sam Scurf.”

“My eating habits got nothing to do with Sam,” she said, mortified. She so didn’t want to discuss her dating life—or the lack thereof—in front of Chase.

“Who’s this Sam?” asked Chase interestedly.

“He was a crook and a loser,” Gran eagerly supplied. “She even brought him home once, and next thing we knew he’d embezzled half a million dollars from Armstrong& Tillich Bank. They caught him, though, and threw his ass in the slammer. But then Odelia always had lousy taste in men.”

She glared at her grandmother, but the old lady ignored her.“She once dated a cop, you know. Appalachian. Until Alec discovered he was wanted in a dozen states and had supplied false credentials.” She shook her snowy white head. “Always dating the bad guys, our poor Odelia.”

Odelia raised her eyes to the heavens, praying that Gran would lay off already, but the stories seemed to amuse and entertain, for Chase asked,“Any other known criminals she dated?”

“Oh, plenty, but if I told you I’d have to kill you,” Gran said with a grin, and then she did attach herself to Chase’s arm and gave his bicep a squeeze. “Oh, my. How much did you say you curled, Chase?”

“I, um…”

Even Mom now seemed to see the warning signs, for she swept in and took Gran into the house.“Let’s freshen up a little before dinner, shall we?”

“I don’t need freshening up,” Gran sputtered. “I’m fresh as a daisy.”

Chase seemed relieved at the removal of his stalker, and nodded at the house where the two women disappeared inside.“She’s a feisty one, that grandmother of yours.”

“Feisty and horny,” said Odelia before she could stop herself. She slapped a hand in front of her mouth, mortified. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

Chase laughed, and she watched as twin dimples appeared on his cheeks. They made the already outrageously handsome cop look even more irresistible, and she admonished herself that after dating all the‘bad guys’ of her past, like Gran had indicated, she didn’t need to add another one to the list. The others might all have turned out to be crooks, but she had the distinct impression Chase Kingsley might give them a run for their money.

“Dinner is served!” Mom called out at that moment, and just in time, too, for Odelia had run out of things to say without making a total and utter fool of herself. Dinner at the Pooles had always been a demonstration in humiliation for her when there were men around, and tonight proved no exception. She just hoped they’d make it through dinner without Gran throwing herself at Chase, or providing a play-by-play of her granddaughter’s disastrous dating life or both.

Chapter 21

Chase didn’t stay after dinner, no matter how much Gran would have wanted it. He claimed he still had work to do, and Odelia wondered if he was referring to the Frey case. She’d wanted to pick his brain, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to allow her to do so. She tried to turn the conversation to themurder, but Chase had brushed off all her attempts, much to Uncle Alec’s amusement, who’d taken his new prot?g?’s cue and also decided to keep this dinner Frey-free. Usually he enjoyed discussing ongoing cases over dinner, but apparently tonight he’d decided not to talk shop in front of Chase.

She just hoped this wouldn’t be the new normal, or else she’d have a lot less stuff to write about in the paper.

Chase quickly excused himself, and when Uncle Alec and Dad settled themselves on the couch to watch a football game, she suddenly felt an uncharacteristic fatigue sweep over her. All this trudging around today had made her long for a good night’s sleep, and after finishing the wash-up with Mom and Gran, who both couldn’t get enough of gabbing about Chase, she bade her family goodnight and returned home.

She checked on Max and Dooley, but they were still passed out, and she decided not to disturb them. Tomorrow was another day, and they could resume their sleuthing efforts with renewed vigor. She was out like a light before her head even hit the pillow and may or may not have dreamed of handsome hunky cops warding off nosy reporters from their investigation.

The next morning, she drove to the office and parked her car. After checking her emails, she decided to walk down to the police station. She needed to check that laptop, to see if there were any clues to other enemies Frey might have made. When she arrived, she was surprised to find Chase already there. He was seated in front of Frey’s laptop, intently staring at the screen, his hulking frame dwarfing one of the chairs in the evidence room. The rest of the evidence was spread out across the table, and when she walked in Chase didn’t look up. Instead, he growled, “Morning, Miss Poole.”

“How did you even know I was coming in?” she asked, her eye falling on the poker that indeed had a slight dent in it.

“Your uncle told me about the invitation he extended you,” he said a little gruffly, and she wondered if he’d been up all night, going over the evidence.

“Yes, well, I thought perhaps there was more evidence to be found on Frey’s laptop.” She hesitated, then decided not to hold back. Chase might not be willing to share, but she wasn’t going to be so stingy. “After I talked to Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring, I checked Frey’s social media pages.”

“And?”

“Well, turns out Paulo Frey was doing his darndest to earn himself the prize for the world’s nastiest social media troll. The guy actively trolled women and gays, and was engaged in online warfare with dozens of people.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Chase said, taking a break from checking the laptop.

She drew up a chair.“So I figure that maybe whoever killed him might have been one of his victims. Someone who decided enough was enough.”

He stared at her.“And you hoped to find a lead on his laptop?”

She nodded.“There’s only so much you can glean from a public Facebook page. If I could use his laptop to log into his accounts, I’ll bet I’d find a treasure trove of stuff, and maybe a lead to his killer.”

“Just what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Which is why I’ve been going over his laptop half the night.”

She didn’t know why, but the fact that they’d shared the same idea somehow gave her a little thrill of excitement. “And? What did you find?”

“So far, nothing good,” he said with a shake of the head. “You called it when you said the guy was a hardened troll. Which is surprising for a writer of his stature. You would think he’d be afraid it would affect his sales.”

“Did he have another account? In a different name, perhaps? An alias?”

“If he did, I haven’t found it,” he said, scooting over to allow her access to the computer. This greatly surprised her. Was he inviting her to actively join the investigation? Perhaps her mom’s cooking had changed his opinion about nosy reporters whose last name is Poole?

“Did you check his emails?”

“I checked a bunch of them, but there are thousands and thousands. To get through all of them will be a Sisyphus job.”

“Then we better get cracking,” she said with a grimace.

“Be my guest,” he said, rising. “Coffee?”

“Black,” she said, cracking her knuckles. Frey’s laptop looked a little dilapidated, but then any laptop would, after spending a year soaked in human waste. It was a miracle the thing was still functioning. While Chase spent the next hour holed up in Uncle Alec’s office for their morning briefing, she went through Frey’s emails, checked his browser history, and generally tried to get a sense of what the guy had been up to in the weeks before his death. And it was when she checked his bookmarks that she hit the jackpot. Apparently he’d been a member of some kind of cyber-vigilante group called the Army of No, Frey clearly one of its ringleaders and moderators.

As soon as she logged into their private forum, she discovered he’d been extremely active coordinating what he called campaigns against degenerates, conducting online warfare on anyone and anything he disapproved of. She found the conversations that had launched the coordinated campaign against Gabby Cleret, but it quickly became clear to her that the Army of No mainly sought out gays and transgenders and outed them online, posting their pictures and causing trouble for them.

“Check this out,” she said when Chase finally joined her. “This Army of No actually revealed the identities of over a dozen gays and transgenders to their communities, no doubt causing a lot of trouble for these people.”

He read a few of the exchanges and shook his head.“This is so much worse than trolling,” he finally said. “This is actual criminal behavior.”

She pointed at the screen.“I’ll bet one of these victims decided to get even, and bashed Frey’s head in.”

“But how did they even know he was behind these attacks? This entire group was working in complete anonymity, and Frey’s name is never even mentioned.”

Chase was right. Frey’s involvement with the group was a strict secret, all the members using aliases. Frey’s was TransKiller, as he seemed to have developed a particular distaste toward transgenders, and singled them out.

“Someone must have found out,” she said.

“We have to compile a list of all the victims,” Chase said.

She gave him an amused look.“Are we actually working this investigation together now, Detective Kingsley?”

He shrugged.“I’m starting to see that if I’m ever going to fit in in this town, I better adapt to the way things are done around here. And from what Chief Alec’s been telling me you’re a great researcher, so…”

“So you’re allowing me to take part in the investigation?”

He studied her for a moment.“I’m drawing the line at you going out there and interviewing suspects—actively pursuing leads. But this…” He gestured at the laptop. “This is analyst’s work, and I don’t see why you can’t give us your two cents. It’s not as if there’s any danger involved.”

Annoyed, she said,“So I’m being relegated to playing second fiddle, huh? You actually want to keep me from going out there and doing my job?”

“Doingmy job,” he corrected her tersely. “Interviewing suspects is police business, Miss Poole. And so is following leads. What would you do if a suspect turns violent? Or, God forbid, you actually confront the killer and he turns the tables on you? You don’t have a gun and even if you did, you’re not trained to protect yourself.” He shook his head adamantly. “You’re not qualified and I want you off the street. Your uncle Alec feels the same way.”

“I very much doubt that,” she insisted.

“Look, I’m cutting you a lot of slack here,” he said, gesturing at the computer. “And to be honest, I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Well, thanks for nothing,” she said, and quickly got up.

Just then, her uncle stuck his head through the door.“Frey’s publisher is here. You want to be present while I do the interview? You too, Odelia,” he said with a pointed look at Chase, who emitted an exasperated groan.

“I’m happy that someone appreciates my help,” she said as she breezed past Chase and followed her uncle out of the small evidence room. On the way over to his office, she saw that Rohanna was busy cleaning the vestibule, moving and shaking to the music, as usual, and singing along to some unheard tune. She smiled. At least someone was having fun around here.

The interview with the publisher didn’t take long. The man had been in town to pick up Frey’s belongings that had been released, like his clothes, his suitcases and the printed-out copy of his manuscript. Uncle Alec was going to hang on to the laptop for a little while longer. When questioned why Frey’s family didn’t collect the writer’s stuff, he said Frey was estranged from his family, and he was all he had. The publisher hadn’t been happy with Frey, either, for he’d been having trouble finishing his new book, apparently too busy with his Army of No and his trolling to spend time writing.

When the interview was over, Chase and Odelia returned to the evidence. The moment she stepped inside, she clutched Chase’s arm. “The laptop!”

“What?” Then his eyes swiveled to the table. “Oh, Christ.”

The laptop they’d left on the table was gone.

The cop cursed under his breath, and instantly rushed out, Odelia right behind him. But when he asked Dolores, the dispatcher said no one else had been in there, and that she definitely hadn’t touched that laptop.

Odelia stared around, and her eye fell on Rohanna, who was now busy dusting off a cabinet in the corner of the vestibule. It held pictures of Chief Alec holding up a very large bass, and several of his fishing trophies. She approached the cleaner, and when she tapped her on the shoulder, Rohanna started, and took out her earbuds.“Hey, honey. Everything all right?”

“Have you seen anyone pass by here? Something went missing from the evidence room,” she explained.

But the cleaning lady shook her head.“I haven’t exactly been paying attention. But I don’t think I’ve seen anyone. Why don’t you ask Dolores?”

She nodded, and quickly darted a glance at Rohanna’s rolling cart. No sign of a laptop, of course. She dropped the crazy notion. “Thanks,” she said, and shook her head at Chase, who’d been watching from a distance.

Judging from his frown, or the way he’d folded his arms across his chest, he wasn’t happy about this. “I should have locked that room,” he said now, as they walked back to the evidence room. “Never leave evidence unattended. It’s the first rule,” he added, scowling at her, as if he personally blamed her.

“What?” she asked. “Is this my fault now? I didn’t take that computer.”

“I know you didn’t. But someone did. Someone snuck in here, managed to get past Dolores unseen, and snuck back out.”

Rohanna’s eye traveled to the window, which was open and didn’t have any bars, like all the windows in the police office. “Do you think they might have gotten in through there?”

They both moved over to the window, and Chase opened it all the way so they could lean out. The view wasn’t anything to write home about: a small patch of wasteland that once had been intended for a parking lot, but now was just a tangle of weeds. Someone could easily have come through there, hopped in through the window and absconded with that laptop. But who?

“It might have been thieves,” she suggested. “Kids wanting a free laptop.”

But Chase shook his head grimly.“I doubt it.”

“Yeah, actually so do I. Whoever stole that laptop must have known it contained information that might lead us to the killer.”

He fixed her with a serious look.“Whoever took that laptop just might be the killer.”

And even though she rarely saw eye to eye with the burly cop, she had to admit he was probably right this time. Which meant the killer must have been watching them, following the investigation. Which also meant that the killer… was one of them. Not an outsider, but someone from Hampton Cove.

Chapter 22

I woke up feeling refreshed, and stretched happily. I couldn’t remember having slept this great in quite a while. I opened one eye, saw that Dooley was still occupying the other side of the couch, and closed my eye again. Maybe I could squeeze in a couple hours more, now that I was going so well. But then I suddenly remembered Clarice’s startling revelation of the previous day. She’d actually revealed the identity of the murderer! And we hadn’t even told Odelia! Instantly, I was wide awake, and gave Dooley a poke.

He mumbled,“Juss… lemme… sleep… zzz.”

I prodded him again, hissing,“We have to tell Odelia who the killer is!”

He opened his eyes lazily.“Huh? Killer? What are you talking about?”

“The killer! The Paulo Frey thing!”

He smacked his lips, then yawned, and as I watched, I could practically see his brain booting up, and grasping the meaning of my words. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a jerk.“The killer! We have to tell Odelia!”

“That’s what I just said,” I grumbled.

I hopped gracefully from the couch and stretched my back, then strode languidly over to the stairs and started making my way upstairs. When I didn’t find Odelia in the bedroom, I realized time had gotten away from us, and she’d already left. It was a lot later than I’d thought!

“She’s gone,” I said when Dooley sauntered into the bedroom. We both trotted down the stairs again, and were about to leave through the pet door when two cats came barging in. They were the last cats I wanted to see: Harriet and… Brutus. I leveled a disapproving look at the latter. This time he’d gone too far. “Brutus, this is my house, and I want you out of here.”

Brutus gave me one of his trademark infuriating grins.“Wow, wow, wow. Now hold it right there, Maxie. Keep it cool, buddy. I’ve come in peace.”

“We’ve decided to offer you a peace treaty, Max,” Harriet explained.

“So now you’re on his side, are you?” asked Dooley bitterly. He gave her a glowering look. “You’re dead to me, Harriet. And you too, Brutus.”

“Let’s not say things we don’t mean, Dooley,” said Harriet, clearly the negotiator in this standoff.

“Oh, but I mean them, all right,” said Dooley.

“You’re dead to me, too,” I told Harriet. “Collusion with the enemy is not something we treat lightly, Harriet. You’re not part of this family anymore.”

“You’re being very immature, Max. And you, too, Dooley. We’re all grownups here, so let’s act like it.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Dooley.

She rolled her expressive eyes.“Look. Last night at dinner it was pretty obvious that Odelia and Chase are developing feelings for each other.”

“I think the word lovebird is appropriate here,” growled Brutus.

Harriet gave her new mate an adoring look.“They were exactly like lovebirds, weren’t they?”

“They sure were, honey pie. Just like us.”

“Oh, sugar plum,” she cooed.

I thought I was going to be sick.“What’s all this about last night?”

“Well, since you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, did you?” asked Harriet primly. “But Odelia and Chase made the loveliest couple.”

I exchanged a look of panic with Dooley.“Couple?” I croaked.

“Lovebirds?” squeaked Dooley, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Yeah, you should have seen them,” grunted Brutus with a chuckle. “Your regular Romeo and Juliet. Anyways, where were you guys last night?”

“None of your business,” I snapped.

“If you have to know, we were investigating,” said Dooley haughtily.

“Investigating?” scoffed Brutus. “In your sleep? Some investigation!”

“For your information, we cracked this case wide open,” said Dooley.

“Dooley,” I said warningly.

“You cracked the case?” asked Brutus. “You mean you caught the killer?”

“We most certainly did,” Dooley confirmed.

“Dooley!” I said. “Shut up!”

“Yeah, shut up, Dooley,” said Brutus. “Cause I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to tell.”

“We know exactly who the killer is,” said Dooley, ignoring the anxious looks I was giving him, “because we found a witness to the crime.”

At this point, Harriet asked,“You talked to a witness? Who was it?”

“Don’t tell her, Dooley,” I told him. “This is for Odelia’s ears only. Besides, I thought she was dead to you?”

“She is dead to me,” Dooley confirmed, “but as long as she keeps asking me questions I can’t not answer, can I? That would be just plain rude.”

“Entering the house of another cat when you’re not invited is rude,” I said with a pointed look at Brutus. “And so is colluding with the enemy,” I added with a nasty glance at Harriet.

“Oh, I’m invited, all right,” said Brutus. “Ain’t that right, honey bunch?”

“I invited him,” said Harriet. “This is my house, too.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” I said, shaking my head.

“I don’t see why we can’t all live together,” said Harriet now, sounding like a seventies hit song. “Why we can’t all simply get along and be friends.”

“Because Brutus is a bully and a brute, and bullies and brutes don’t get along with non-bullying brutes like us,” said Dooley.

“Kicking a friend out of your house is kind of a brutish move, buddy,” said Brutus.

“You’re not my friend,” I said stubbornly.

“A friend of a friend is a friend,” he riposted.

“Well, since Harriet is dead to me that makes you…” I hesitated. This was all getting very confusing. “Anyway, I don’t want you here so that’s that.”

Brutus grinned, displaying two sets of very sharp teeth. He patted my cheek with his paw.“Maxie. Baby. Your human and my human are inches away from getting it on, which makes us more than friends. The moment those two lovebirds move in together you and me are gonna be brothers, bubba! We be shacking up together. We be like homies, bro!”

“Yes, Max,” gushed Harriet. “You should have seen Odelia and Chase last night. So Brutus is right. Very soon now we’re all going to be living together, so why don’t you let bygones be bygones and welcome him into our family?”

“Over my dead body,” I growled, shaking off Brutus’s paw.

Brutus moved in, and whispered in my ear,“That can be arranged.”

I glared at him.“Why don’t I simply tell Odelia I don’t want you here?”

“Yeah!” cried Dooley. “Maybe she’ll make Chase give you away!”

“In your dreams, buddy,” growled Brutus.

“Odelia listens to what we tell her,” I said. “And if we tell her we don’t want you here, she’ll give Chase an ultimatum: either get all loved-up and cuddly on her couch and watchCops together, or get rid of his furball.” I gave Brutus a sweet smile. “I wonder which way Chase is going to lean.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, but I could see a hint of doubt in his eyes. He’d probably never met a cat that could make himself understood by his human before, and it wasn’t a gift he shared with us. He’d have no way of pleading with Chase to keep him, and I was pretty sure that if Dooley and I put our collective paws down, it was bye-bye Brutus.

“You wouldn’t do that,” said Harriet, aghast.

“Oh, but I most definitely would.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Brutus, giving me a nasty glare. “He’s just trying to come between us, sweetie pie, and it’ll never work.”

Harriet seemed doubtful, though. She knew what we were capable of when push came to shove. But she seemed to make up her mind and lifted her chin.“If you tell Odelia you don’t want Brutus here, I’ll tell her that I do want him here. That will make her think twice.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” I cried.

“Watch me,” she hissed, narrowing her beautiful green eyes.

Dooley seemed even more taken aback.“You wouldn’t go against family!”

“Of course not,” she said sweetly, “since Brutus is my family now.” She stared at the big, black cat adoringly. “He’s got qualities no other cat has.”

“Like what?!” cried Dooley. “The fact that he still got his… nuts? Well, I can fix that. We talked to Odelia and soon it’s gonna be nuts on the nuts!”

“For your information,” said Brutus haughtily, “my… situation is perfectly legal, thank you very much. A policeman’s cat has to set an example, so naturally I’m in compliance with the applicable penal code.”

“Huh?” asked Dooley, not comprehending.

“Brutus is fixed,” huffed Harriet, “and I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”

We both stared at Brutus.“You’re fixed?” I asked. “But how…”

“Why the surprise, fellas? These days all the cool cats are fixed.” He gestured at us. “And a couple of losers, too, of course, to balance things out.”

“But how can you be so… buff, and still be fixed?” asked Dooley.

“Being a real hombre got nothing to do with what’s going on down there,” said Brutus, taking on the air of a mentor teaching his mentees a few life lessons. “Being a cat’s cat has to do with attitude, and the knowledge that you’re a superior being, not with the size of your… equipment.”

I gave a snort.“You’re definitely not a superior being.”

“Oh, but he most certainly is,” said Harriet, moving over to her new mate and stropping against him seductively. “The stamina this cat got? You wouldn’t believe it!”

“Say it, girl.”

“I am saying it and saying it loud and proud.”

“Now growl it.”

Harriet growled, and Dooley and I threw up in our mouths.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I told Dooley.

“Me, too,” he confessed.

The cooing and lovebirding that followed was enough to make us both gag, and I knew this was going to prove a tougher fight than we’d anticipated. Not only had Brutus invaded our space and seduced our friend, but with Harriet he had gained a powerful ally to convince Odelia to accept him into our home. Odelia loved Dooley and me, but she simply adored Harriet. Everybody did. Because of that snowy white fur people always thought she was the most beautiful creature they’d ever seen, and would stop at nothing to give her what she wanted. If Harriet wanted Brutus introduced into the home, Odelia would do it, against my and Dooley’s protestations.

Unless… I gave Dooley a nudge. “Let’s skedaddle, buddy. We have a human to find and a job to do.”

“But we can’t leave these two here!” he cried. “This is our home!”

“And now it’s mine,” said Brutus with a smirk, and proceeded to stalk over to the couch, hop on, and make himself comfortable in my spot! Then he patted the space beside him. “Hop on, baby cheeks. Let’s have a party.”

Harriet giggled, and without waiting for my approval, hopped onto the couch, stretched out luxuriously, and lovingly gazed into her new mate’s eyes.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered. “I can’t take any more of this.” And I hurried out the pet door, Dooley in my wake. And as we rounded the house and made our way to the street, I said, “We have to do something about this.”

“But what can we do? You heard Harriet. She’ll vouch for him.”

“I’ve got the perfect idea, Dooley,” I assured him. “We’ll simply tell Odelia we know who the killer is, but if she wants us to reveal the identity, first she has to kick that brute out of our house.”

“You mean blackmail?” asked Dooley, eyes widening.

“Let’s just call it a bargaining chip.”

He brightened.“I think it’s a great idea! Do you think she’ll go for it?”

“I’m sure she will. She’s desperate to find that killer, so she’ll give us whatever we want in exchange for the information.”

We hurried along, now on a mission to save our home from this intruder. Harriet was nursing a viper at her bosom, and we needed to shift him.

“I can’t believe Harriet,” Dooley lamented. “Who would have thought she’d betray us like this?”

“That’s kitties for you,” I said. “They see a handsome tom and they forget all about you.”

“I thought she was our friend,” said Dooley dejectedly.

“Well, she’s our friend no more,” I said with determination. “This is war, Dooley, and since she’s colluding with the enemy that makes her our enemy, too.”

“The enemy of our enemy is our enemy, right?”

I thought about this for a moment.“Not exactly.”

Five minutes later, we strolled into the offices of the Gazette, and were surprised to find that Odelia wasn’t there, seated at her desk as usual.

“Where is she?” asked Dooley. Then he gave me a horrified look. “Don’t tell me! She’s probably holed up with Chase Kingsley, making out on his couch, just like Harriet and Brutus!”

“I don’t think so,” I said musingly. “Chase is staying at Uncle Alec’s place, and Odelia making out on her uncle’s couch seems… inappropriate.”

“They might have rented a room! Humans do that kind of stuff!”

“Not so soon. It takes a lot longer for humans to get their groove on than with us cats.” Last time we saw Odelia she hated Chase Kingsley’s guts, and I didn’t think one family dinner would have made such a big difference, no matter what Brutus or Harriet said. I knew Odelia, and even though she’d brought home some weird specimens, she never kissed on the first date. “Let’s check her other haunts,” I said now. “I’ll bet she’s over at the doctor’s office.”

But when we went there, there was no sign of Odelia either. We stopped by the library next, and finally headed over to the police station. Now that Brutus had taken over my home, the station house was safe terrain once more. Brutus might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t capable of being in two places at the same time. When we hopped onto our usual perch on Chief Alec’s windowsill, my heart leaped with joy when I saw Odelia holed up in there with her uncle and… Chase Kingsley. But just as we arrived, she left.

So we did the only thing a smart cat would do: we simply barged into Chief Alec’s office through the window, plopped down on the man’s desk, and, before his surprised eyes, hopped down and tripped after Odelia.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the chief grunted, then bellowed, “Odelia! Your cats are here!”

Odelia turned back, and was all smiles when she caught sight of us.

“Oh, hey, darlings,” she said as she bent down and gave us a cuddle. “Finally up and awake, huh?”

“Oh, Odelia, we have so much to tell you!” Dooley cried.

“Yeah, we know who the killer is!” I added.

She gave us both a keen look but quickly rose again, and I immediately saw why: we were being watched with interest by Detective Kingsley.

“Are these your cats?” the burly cop asked.

“Yeah, they’re mine,” she said with a smile.

“And they just come barging in here like that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Your cat comes barging into our house, buddy!” Dooley yelled.

But all Chase could hear was Dooley’s plaintive mewling, of course.

“Um…” Odelia stared down at me. I could see she was eager to listen to our story, but she couldn’t very well do it now, with Chase and Uncle Alec watching on. To them it would sound like she was meowing, and might give the wrong impression. So instead she merely said, “Yeah, they’re very attached to me. Sometimes they just follow me around all day long.”

“So you’re not just a nosy reporter but a crazy cat lady too, huh?” he asked.

Odelia scowled at him, and I was happy to see that the two of them weren’t an item. And if my extensive knowledge of human nature was anything to go by, it would take them a while to get to that point, if ever.

“If I’m a cat lady, what does that make you? Crazy cat dude?” she asked.

Chase opened his mouth to respond, but he momentarily seemed lost for words, so he simply closed it again, and Odelia took the opportunity to stalk out of the office. Chief Alec, who’d laughed loudly at his niece’s comment, now said, “Shoo. Follow the lady, cats,” and sent Dooley and me on our way.

I was pretty sure he was one of the few people who knew about Odelia’s ability to talk to us, and I was glad he hadn’t betrayed that secret to Chase. At least one person in this family wasn’t selling out to the newcomers in town.

Dooley and I tripped after Odelia and joined her in a small empty office. The moment the door closed, she turned to us, and said,“I think I know who did it.” And when she told us the name, both Dooley and I were surprised to find that she’d discovered the murderer’s identity all on her own. When we confirmed that she was right on the money, she smiled. “Now to prove it…”

After she had left, Dooley and I shook our heads in dismay.

“There goes our bargaining chip,” Dooley lamented.

“Dayum,” I said, then slapped my face. Now I was starting to sound like Brutus.

Chapter 23

After the disappearance of the laptop, it didn’t take Odelia long to figure out that her initial theory had been correct: there was something on that laptop that revealed the identity of the killer. And then it dawned on her. The Army of No. She quickly took out her phone and started googling. It was just a hunch, but her hunches often proved correct, so…

The mention of this Army of No had stirred a memory of a horrific event that had taken place a couple of years ago. Her father had been marginally involved at the time, and she’d even written an article about the tragedy.

She now walked into Chief Alec’s office and placed her phone on his desk and tapped it. “Check this out, Chief.”

Her uncle quickly read the page indicated, and stared up at her.“No.”

She nodded.“Yes.”

“What’s going on?” asked Chase, mystified by this exchange.

Her uncle gave her a slight nod, as he settled back in his chair and gazed out the window for a moment. She took a deep breath before launching into her story.“A couple of years ago, a young teenage boy was struggling with his sexual identity, and finally confessed to his mom that even though he’d been born a boy, in his heart he felt like a girl. After a lot of soul-searching, they finally consulted my dad, who advised they talk to a friend of his, a renowned psychologist in Bridgehampton. They did, and over the course of the next couple of months became convinced that going through the transition was the right thing to do. The boy was still in high school, so they decided to wait until after graduation so that nobody would be any the wiser. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself, and make a difficult and sensitive situation even harder.”

“I remember the case,” said the chief gruffly. “Poor kid.”

“What happened?” asked Chase.

“Everything was going as planned, when suddenly the boy was outed on his school’s Facebook page, pictures of him exiting the clinic where he’d been going posted and the whole story being displayed for the whole school to see. It was a serious blow to the boy and his single mother, but they thought they could overcome it. But then the taunting started, and the name calling and the nasty comments wherever he went. Finally, the boy couldn’t take it anymore and…” Her voice broke.

“It’s all right, hon,” said her uncle. “I’ll tell the story if you want.”

She shook her head, and continued,“A little over two years ago, when his mother came home from work, she found him in his room, hanging from a rope, a note on his desk telling her he was sorry to have caused her so much trouble, and that the world was much better off without him.”

“Christ, that’s horrible,” said Chase, distractedly raking his fingers through his hair.

“Paulo Frey was behind the outing of the kid. I’m sure of it. I googled the affair, and the initial post and the pictures on the school page were posted by the Society of No. I think the boy’s mother discovered that Frey was behind it. That he was the one responsible for her son’s torment and death, and that in a fit of rage she decided to take revenge and killed him.”

“Who was this kid?” asked Chase now.

The Chief and Odelia shared a knowing glance, and finally the Chief said,“Luke Coral. Rohanna Coral’s boy.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “Rohanna as in… the cleaning lady?”

“I think you’ll find that the laptop is in her cleaning bucket,” said Odelia. “She must have heard it was here and wanted to make sure we wouldn’t find out about Frey and the Society of No and make the connection with her boy.”

“We better have a little talk with her,” said the Chief now, and swiftly rose from behind his desk. And as they made to leave the office, Max and Dooley suddenly came barging in through the window, hopped onto the chief’s desk, and announced to Odelia they had discovered the identity of the killer.

Instead of threshing this thing out in front of Chase and Uncle Alec, she ushered them into an empty office, and when they told her that Clarice had seen Rohanna drag the body of Paulo Frey into the cesspit that day, she had her confirmation. Now there was no doubt Rohanna Coral was the killer.

She hurried out of the office and told her uncle,“It’s Rohanna, all right. We have to get her before she destroys the evidence on that computer.”

“How…” asked Chase, a confused frown on his face.

“Like you said, I’m a cat lady,” she said. “Cats inspire me. Now are you coming or not?”

Without waiting for a response, she sprinted down the corridor to the vestibule, but Rohanna was nowhere to be found.

“Have you seen Rohanna?” she asked Dolores.

“Yeah, she left about twenty minutes ago,” said Dolores.

She quickly went in search of the cleaning trolley, and found it in the small room where they kept the cleaning supplies. The bucket was still filled with soapy water and she plunged her hands in.“Nothing,” she grunted. Of course. She looked up when Chase joined her. “She took the laptop.”

“Let’s go,” he said curtly.

“I’ll wait here, just in case she comes back,” her uncle said.

She and Chase flew out the front door, and ran for their cars. Only now did she remember she’d parked hers in front of the Gazette. She eyed Chase’s dilapidated truck a little uncertainly. “Does that thing drive?”

“Like the wind,” he assured her. “Hop in.”

“Hand me the keys. I’ll drive.”

He hesitated.

“I know where she lives.”

After a moment’s deliberation, he tossed her the keys. “You better not wreck my ride.”

“No much left to wreck,” she said, and got behind the wheel. Then, just when she was about to back out of the parking spot, Max and Dooley came running up. She quickly opened the door and they scooted in.

“You really are a cat lady,” said Chase with a shake of the head.

“I’ll just take that as a compliment,” she said, and then put the car in reverse and backed away from the curb, almost colliding with another car that was passing. “Oops,” she said, then punched the accelerator, and raced away, tires spinning for purchase and burning rubber.

Chase appeared a little startled.“Do you always drive like this?”

“Only when I’m trying to catch a killer,” she said through gritted teeth.

She raced Chase’s ride through town, running a red light, which caused the cop to give her a censorious look but no comment, then a second light, which caused him to say, “I knew I should never have given you those keys.”

They arrived at Rohanna’s place, and she jumped the curb, causing the underbody of the old truck to loudly grind in protest. Chase winced but said nothing, and they both hurried out and up the stairs. Rohanna lived on the second floor of a small housing project, and she quickly led the way.

Chase rang the bell and followed up with a good hammering of his fist on the flimsy door.“Hampton Cove Police, ma’am. Please open this door.”

When there was no response, he drew his weapon and motioned for Odelia to stand back. Then he placed his foot against the door and gave it a good shove. The wood around the lock splintered and the door caved and then they were racing inside, Chase the first one through.

It didn’t take him long to declare the place completely empty.

When they met at what was left of the front door, Odelia was thinking hard. Where could she have gone? It was hardly feasible she would have simply continued with her regular schedule. Or was it? In that case, she’d be cleaning her dad’s office right now. She glanced over at Chase.

“What?” he asked, holstering his gun. “Where is she?”

She shook her head.“My best guess is my dad’s office.”

Chase gave her a meaningful glance, and then they both raced back to the car. A couple of minutes and only one traffic violation later, she halted the car in front of the doctor’s office with screeching tires, causing Chase to wince yet again. You’d think the man would have gotten used to her driving style by now. Barging inside, they walked straight up to the counter, where they were met by a grinning Gran. She looked delighted at this surprise visit.

“Hey there, Detective Kingsley. The doctor is busy, but if you want you can go over to examination room number two, and he can squeeze you in.”

“Is Rohanna here?” asked Odelia, who had no time for this.

“Never saw her,” said Gran. “Not that I miss her. Who needs a singing cleaning lady that can’t clean? Or sing?” Turning to Chase, she plastered a smile on her wrinkled face. “Go on and strip down to your tighty whities. And if the doc can’t see you immediately I’m sure I can accommodate you.”

“In your dreams,” growled Chase, and waltzed out again.

“Was it something I said?” yelled Gran, leaning over the counter to stare at Chase’s retreating behind.

“Not now, Gran,” she called out, leaving the lady looking disappointed.

They both got back to the car, and Odelia saw that this time Chase was behind the wheel. When she glared at him, he said,“Hey, you got to drive the last time. Now it’s my turn. Besides, I don’t want anyone else to get killed.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great driver,” she grumbled, getting into the passenger seat. She thought for a moment. Where would Rohanna take that laptop? She’d thought she’d hidden it in that cesspit, until a nosy writer had dug it out and uncovered a crime. Now she would have to put it where no one would ever look. And then suddenly she got it. “The graveyard,” she said.

He lifted an eyebrow.“The graveyard? Are you sure?”

“Trust me. Now just go!”

And go he did, at a surprising rate of speed. Following her instructions, it didn’t take him long to arrive at the small graveyard, and they both jumped out of the car, which Chase had parallel parked to perfection in front of the iron gates. The man had skills. If he didn’t make it as a detective in this town, he could always become a valet.

His strong arm held her back before she could rush into the graveyard.

“Let me go first,” he said, and took out his gun again.

She nodded her agreement. Never argue with a man with a gun.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” he asked.

“This is where Luke Coral was buried. I have a hunch it’s where Rohanna is going to bury that laptop.”

Chase gave her a curt nod of the head.“Stay behind me. This woman has killed once, she might do it again when cornered.”

“I doubt she has a gun, Detective.”

He gave her a grim look.“Better safe than sorry. You might be a pesky reporter and a cat lady, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you killed. And definitely not on my watch.”

“I think that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go!”

They moved stealthily through the wrought-iron gates and entered the graveyard, which consisted of gravestones dotting a smooth stretch of gently sloping lawn. Some of them were crooked and weathered with age, others looked newer. She hadn’t been here in a while, the last time when she’d accompanied her gran to put flowers on her granddad’s grave. When she heard plaintive mewls behind her, she saw that Max and Dooley had followed them into the graveyard. They didn’t look happy. This was not their favorite hangout, she suspected, and they’d rather be home right now. So would she.

Chase gave her a quick glance, and she gestured with her hand. She knew exactly where Rohanna’s boy was buried, as she’d attended his funeral. In fact most of Hampton Cove had. Luke had been a sweet kid and well-liked, and if not for those few bullies who’d made his life miserable, he might still be alive today. It was a tragedy, but that still didn’t give Rohanna the right to killthe man she held responsible. They approached the plot where Luke was buried, or Lucia, as he’d apparently been wanted to be known, and they had a clear view of his gravestone, but of Rohanna there was no trace.

“It’s right there,” she whispered, pointing at the grave.

She stared down at the stone, and then saw that the earth had been disturbed behind it, as if someone had been digging. She knelt down, and after a moment’s hesitation dug her hands in. Suddenly her fingers touched a solid object, and when she came away, she was holding the laptop.

She held it out to Chase, who grunted,“Good job.”

Wow. Another compliment? This was practically a love fest.

But then suddenly she saw Rohanna looming up behind the cop, a heavy rock in her hand. And as she held up the rock, heaving it over Chase’s head, she screamed, “Chase! Watch out!” But it was too late, and Rohanna would have knocked out Chase if not suddenly Max and Dooley had launched themselves at the woman, scratching her across the face and hands with mighty hissing sounds, their claws extended.

Rohanna yelled in pain and dropped the rock, reaching for her face.

Instantly, Chase whirled around, and easily worked his attacker to the ground, then slapped a pair of handcuffs on the woman.

“Thanks,” Odelia mouthed to Max and Dooley, who appeared extremely proud of themselves and their work in apprehending the Paulo Frey killer.

“How?” Rohanna asked when Chase hoisted her up. “How did you know it was me?”

Odelia held up the laptop.“Frey was the one who outed your boy, wasn’t he? He was the one who ran the Society of No.”

Rohanna nodded forlornly.“He was. He killed Luke. He might as well have handed him that rope and tied the noose around his neck. Him and that damn society.” She shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. “I had no idea Frey was behind it until I accidentally touched his laptop when I was cleaning his desk andthe screensaver dissolved and revealed the website of the Society of No. I knew they were behind Luke’s outing.”

“How did you know he was running it?” asked Chase.

“Usually when I cleaned the cabin, Frey took a walk in the woods. So when I saw the website I couldn’t resist digging a little deeper. And that’s when I saw the messages he’d posted as TransKiller. He was the site’s moderator! He’d used the same alias to post those hateful messages on Luke’s school’s page, so I recognized it immediately. I got so angry when I realized he was the one who’d killed my boy! He was the one who’d caused all this.”

She hung her head, and Odelia said,“I’m so sorry, Rohanna. But why didn’t you simply talk to my uncle? He would have arrested Frey.”

“You know as well as I do that guys like Frey are never punished,” said Rohanna bitterly. “He’s one of the happy few that can get away with murder. He would have hired the best lawyers money could buy and would have gotten off scot-free.” She shook her head. “When he walked in, that smug smile on his face, I knew I was in the presence of pure evil. So when he took a seat at his desk, I grabbed the first thing I could find and hit him as hard as I could. For my boy. So Luke’s death wouldn’t go unpunished.”

Odelia stared at the woman, tears in her own eyes now. Two lives were destroyed, for Rohanna would probably go to jail for a long stretch. Unless a jury would consider these extenuating circumstances. She glanced down at the gravestone of the kind-hearted young boy who just wanted to live a happy life, if not for people like Paulo Frey, whose hate had destroyed him.

“You did it, Odelia,” said Max.

“Yeah, you did it,” Dooley chimed in.

“No, you did it,” she whispered, making sure that Chase didn’t overhear her. Even though the burly copper might be warming to her—and she to him, she had to admit—she didn’t want her secret to get out. Uncle Alec might understand, but she was pretty sure that Chase Kingsley never would.

“Good job, Miss Poole,” Chase grunted after he’d Mirandized Rohanna.

“Thanks,” she said simply. “You too, Detective Kingsley.”

He gave her one of his rare grins.“I think we’re past that, don’t you?” He held out his hand. “Chase.”

“Odelia,” she said, and shook his hand, also smiling now.

“Oh, God,” Max groaned behind her. “Looks like Brutus is here to stay.”

Epilogue

One week after the events that had rocked Hampton Cove, Dooley and I were lazing around in the garden, under the shade of the old gnarly tree near the back, when I suddenly saw Brutus and Harriet crossing over to us.

“Don’t look now, Dooley,” I muttered, “but here come the brute and his bride.”

“What? Where?!” Dooley cried, and instantly started scanning the lawn.

We both stared at the couple as they drew nearer, and Dooley seemed on the verge of launching into a long tirade to make sure that the garden, at least, remained Brutus-free. But how could we keep anything Brutus-free these days? The cat was simply ubiquitous, as was the cop who owned him.

After Chase and Odelia had solved the Paulo Frey murder, the police detective had received a lot of accolades from the Hampton Cove brass. Not that we have a lot of brass around here. Just the mayor and the members of the town council. It appeared that some residents had indeed launched a petition to remove Chase from active duty, and the council was still considering it. But after his remarkable work catching the Frey killer, he’d earned himself a temporary reprieve, and had gained the admiration of a lot of Hampton Covians, chief amongst whom were people like Aissa Spring and Gabby Cleret who, it was rumored, had just signed up forIndiana Jones 2.

Whether Odelia was for or against Chase Kingsley wasn’t very clear to me. She hadn’t told us to stop trying to clear the man’s name, so that seemed to indicate she believed in his innocence and wanted him to stay. On the other hand, she’d listened very carefully when we’d told her that Brutus wasn’t our most favorite person in the world, and that we wanted him gone.

In other words, these were confusing times, and so for now we did nothing, at least until Odelia made up her mind and decided one way or the other. I, for one, wasn’t going to make an effort to keep the cop in town, especially as he came with so much baggage. And this baggage was now bearing down on us, his new girlfriend—our former friend Harriet—in tow.

“Hey, there, guys,” Harriet said by way of greeting.

But since Harriet was still dead to us, and so was Brutus, Dooley and I simply pretended not to hear her. We’d discovered that Brutus hated the silent treatment, and so did Harriet. Bullies can’t stand being ignored.

Talking about bullies, Odelia had written the definitive article on Paulo Frey, which had been picked up by the national media. The big papers had all done stories on Frey, and the upcoming trial that was going to decide Rohanna Coral’s fate. I had high hopes that she would be acquitted. After all, she’d only done what any of us would do when a monstrous predator drove our child to suicide: take revenge. Her actions could not be condoned, of course, but they could be understood, and I wasn’t alone in hoping she would get off with a light sentence or an acquittal. On this point Hampton Cove wasn’t divided at all: pretty much the entire town rallied behind her, and even chipped in to pay for a decent lawyer. In the eyes of many she was a heroine.

“She said, hey, you guys,” Brutus repeated, not sounding very friendly.

Dooley and I continued ignoring him, hoping he’d simply go away. But of course he didn’t. Some cats only need half a word to get your drift, but Brutus obviously wasn’t one of them.

“You guys, don’t be like this,” Harriet said. “Why can’t we simply be friends?” she added, harping on her new favorite theme. “Brutus is actually a very nice cat once you get to know him.” She emitted an involuntary giggle. “And I’ve gotten to know him very well this last week.”

Dooley appeared on the verge of saying something, but I gave him a kick, and he clamped his mouth shut.

“Look,” Brutus said, “I know that maybe I was a little heavy-handed when I first arrived, my human being a cop and all. What can I say? It’s a hard habit to break. But I see now that Hampton Cove has so much more to offer than your usual rabble that requires policing. You’ve got some great cats out here, and I admit that my methods, which might be appropriate for your crime-ridden big city, are not appropriate down here, where life is lived at a more leisurely pace.”

Harriet rubbed his back encouragingly, and he gave her a grateful nod.

“What I mean to say is this: I’m sorry if I came across a little too strong, and I promise that from now on I’ll try to see things your way.” He gestured at Harriet. “My girlfriend has shown me that policing a town is about more than swinging a big stick. It’s about befriending the locals. Earning their trust.” He held out a paw. “I’m here to tell you that I’m ready to be your friend.”

“If they’ll have you,” whispered Harriet.

He ground his teeth for a moment, then managed,“If you’ll have me.”

It was obvious they’d been rehearsing this shtick, and as I stared at the outstretched paw of my nemesis, I wondered how best to respond to this new nonsense. Walk away? Or deliver a blistering rebuttal? And as I was pondering this, Dooley, that moronic idiot, glanced at Harriet, grinned at her, and covered Brutus’s paw with his own.

“I’m so glad you said that! I just hate having to ignore my best friend.”

“Aw, Dooley,” said Harriet. “You’re my best friend, too.”

The next moment, Dooley was sniffing Harriet’s butt as if he hadn’t seen her in ages, Brutus and I looking on in horror. Brutus because he didn’t like other cats sniffing his girl’s butt, and I because I couldn’t believe Dooley had fallen for this nonsense.

“What about it, Max?” Brutus asked gruffly. “Forgive and forget?”

“I can’t forgive a cat that thinks he can bully me in my own home.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t either. I’m a changed cat now, though.”

“A changed cat? In one week?”

He glanced at Harriet.“Love has a way of changing a cat, you know.”

“Oh, please,” I grunted. “You can fool Dooley, but you can’t fool me.”

“Hey, I’m not kidding. This is true love, buddy.”

I very much doubted whether a cat like Brutus was even capable of love. Don’t you have to have a heart to be able to love?

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and moments later Chase walked out onto the terrace, accompanied by Odelia, and as they took a seat, I could see how things were going to be. This Chase guy wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. He was going to keep on coming, and judging from Odelia’s expression as they chatted, at some point in the future they just might become more than mere friends. I’d seen that look before, when she brought Sam the crooked banker home, and again when she had that crooked cop over. Odelia might be a great human, but she had lousy taste in men. Which meant I was going to be saddled with Brutus for the foreseeable future.

Three cats were looking at me anxiously. Dooley, looking goofy now that he was friends again with Harriet. Harriet, who seemed both tense and hopeful, for I was her friend too, until she’d hooked up with Brutus. And the bully himself, who seemed repentant, a look that didn’t become him.

Finally, I relented.“Oh, all right,” I said, slapping Brutus’s paw. “Forgive and forget.” But before the celebration started, I added, “But I’m not going to be bullied in my own home. This is stillmy home and Odelia ismy human.”

“Fair enough,” said Brutus with a grin. Then he leaned in and whispered, “But I’m still the cop around here, buddy, just you remember that. So what I say goes.” He then gave me a fake smile, and I could see that all this nonsense about him being a changed cat had just been posturing for Harriet’s sake.

“Oh, you sly son of a…”

“Max!” cried Harriet.

“It’s all right, gummy bear. Max and I are buds now. Aren’t we, Maxie?”

My eyes darted from Dooley, giving Harriet’s butt another sniff, to Odelia, offering Chase a drink, to Brutus, eyeing me with a warning grin on his smug mug. Two could play this game, I thought, and plastered a smile on my face. “Of course we are. From now on we’re one big, happy family.”

“Oh, yay!” cried Harriet.

“Yay,” snarled Brutus.

“And so three become four,” Dooley said, beaming all over his face.

“The four musketeers!” Harriet yipped.

“Max can be our Porthos,” said Brutus, and gave me a playful punch on the shoulder that hurt a lot more than it looked. “Right, Maxie, baby?”

“Wasn’t he the fat one?” asked Dooley.

“Ha ha,” said Brutus.

“Ha ha ha,” said Harriet.

“Ha ha ha ha,” said Dooley.

Oh, God, I thought. This was hell.

There was more playful ribbing and joking, and I wondered if I was the only one who could see Brutus for what he was: a nasty intruder. And I wondered if his human was anything like him. If he was, Odelia was in for an unpleasant surprise. I gave the paw I’d touched Brutus with a good lick to wash away the foul stench. Yeah, this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

2. PURRFECTLY DEADLY

Chapter 1

Morning had arrived bright and early, and as usual I was having a hard time rousing my human. Odelia was still snoozing, even more reluctant than usual to throw off the blanket of sleep. She’d been stirring for the past hour, ever since her alarm clock had gone off and she’d unceremoniously silenced it with one well-aimed punch. In spite of all my nudging, meowing, and even scratching the closet door, she still showed no signs of getting out of bed.

She’d sat up half the night preparing for her interview today, but if she didn’t get up now she’d miss it entirely. And it wasn’t just any old interview either. For the first time in years, famous eighties pop singer John Paul George, aka JPG, had granted the Hampton Cove Gazette an exclusive.

John, whose star had shone so brightly back in the day, now lived as a recluse in his Hamptons mansion, only rarely venturing out. He was one of those pop deities and eighties icons whose name would go down in history along with Madonna, Michael Jackson, Prince and George Michael.

Originally he hailed from England, where they produce pop stars in a factory just outside London, but had settled in the Hamptons in the nineties, where he could enjoy sun and surf and an endless parade of boy toys.

“Odelia,” I tried again, nudging her armpit with my head. “Oh, Odelia. Rise and shine, my pretty. John Paul George and legend are awaiting.”

But instead of opening her eyes, she merely mumbled something and turned the other cheek, her blond hair fanning across the pillow and her green eyes remaining firmly closed. I stared down at her sleeping form. I could always give her a gentle nibble, of course. Maybe that would do the trick. Somehow I doubted it, though. When Odelia is asleep, only a shot from a cannon can wake her, or perhaps a piper beneath her window, like the Queen of England. I should know. I’ve been Odelia’s constant companion for going on eight years now. My name is Max, by the way, and I’m a cat.

Finally, I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to miss this interview, as JPG was as much a hero of mine as he was of Odelia’s. The man had taken in more stray cats than the Hampton Cove animal shelter, and all of them had been given such a good life they’d spread the word far and wide: JPG loved cats and they, in return, adored him. Heck, if I wasn’t so fond of Odelia I might have presented myself on the JPG doorstep, looking slightly bedraggled.

I’d talked to more than a few of the cats he’d taken in, and they said he actually served them p?t? on a daily basis. The food supposedly melted on the tongue, and was so delicious and plentiful it sounded like feline paradise.

The thought of p?t? decided me. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to sample the best gourmet food in all of Hampton Cove just because Odelia liked to sleep in. So I jumped on top of her, prepared to give her a good back rub, claws extended. If that didn’t do the trick, nothing would.

Just then, Dooley wandered into the room.

Dooley is Odelia’s mom’s cat, a beigeish ragamuffin and not the smartest cat around. He’s also my best friend.

“Hey, Max,” he said now as he leisurely strode in. “What’s up?”

“What’s not up is the more apt question,” I grumbled, gesturing at Odelia, who turned and clasped her pillow with a beatific expression on her face.

“Aw, she looks so sweet,” said Dooley, looking on from the bedside carpet.

“We’ve got an important interview scheduled in an hour, and if she doesn’t get a move on she’s going to miss it.”

“One hour? She can make that. Easy.”

“Well, unless she gets up right now she won’t,” I insisted.

And then I got it. Maybe we could serenade her. Dooley and I had recently joined the cat choir. We got together once a week to rehearse, and even had our own conductor. We sang all the old classics, likeCat’s in the Cradle,Year of the Cat,What’s New Pussycat and things like that. The good stuff. Since we usually practiced at night, though, we were having a hard time finding a regular spot to get together, as the neighbors didn’t seem to appreciate our nascent talent as much as we did.

“What was that song we did last night?” I asked Dooley.

He looked up at me.“Mh? What song?”

“For the cat choir. What was that last song we did? The one that made the mayor throw that old shoe at you?”

Dooley frowned at this, and rubbed the spot on his back where the shoe had connected.“That wasn’t funny, Max. That really hurt, you know.”

“Yeah, but what was the song?” I insisted.

“Wake me up before you go go,” he said. “The old Wham! classic.”

“Of course,” I said with a grin. “Let’s do it now. I’m sure it’ll be a nice way to wake Odelia up, and put her in the right mood for her interview.”

I jumped down from the bed, and took up position next to Dooley. We both cleared our throats, just like our conductor Shanille, Father Reilly’s tabby had taught us, and burst into song.

“Wake me up before you go go,” I howled.

“Don’t keep me hanging on like a yo-yo,” wailed Dooley.

And even though we hadn’t practiced the song a lot—the mayor’s shoe had kinda ruined the moment—I thought we were doing a pretty good job. It probably wouldn’t have carried George Michael’s approval, as cats don’t exactly sing like humans. When we sing, it sounds more like… a bunch of cats being strangled. Nevertheless, the effect was almost magical. We hadn’t even gotten to the chorus yet, when Odelia buried her head in her pillow, then dragged the pillow over her head, and finally threw the pillow at us.

“Stop it already, you guys. You sound horrible!” she muttered.

“It’s Wham!,” I told her. “So it can’t be horrible. And if you don’t get up right this minute, you’re going to be late for your important interview.”

At this, she darted a quick look at her alarm clock, and uttered a startled yelp. The next moment she scrambled from the bed, practically tripped over Dooley and me, and raced for the bathroom.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” she cried. “Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“Well, I tried!” I called after her. “And failed.”

“You think she doesn’t like our singing?” asked Dooley, who’s very sensitive about his singing skills. Coming after the shoe incident, Odelia’s critique had clearly rattled him.

“I’m sure she loved it,” I told him, padding over to the window.

Unlike humans, us cats don’t need to spend time in the bathroom, or apply makeup, or put on clothes. We do spend half of our lives licking our butts, but apart from that, being a cat is a lot easier than being a human.

“I sensed criticism,” Dooley said now, staring at the door through which Odelia had disappeared. “She said it sounded horrible, Max. Horrible!”

“She’s not awake yet,” I said. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

I hopped up onto the windowsill and watched the sun rising in the East. Outside, in the cherry tree that divided Odelia’s garden from her parents’, cute little birdies were chirping, singing their own songs, and fluttering gaily. I licked my lips. Coming upon the thoughts of p?t?, the sight was enough to make my stomach rumble.

Dooley joined me, and we both stared at the birdies, twittering up a storm. There’s nothing greater than waking up in the morning and seeing a flock of little birdies fluttering around a tree. It lifts my mood to such heights I can’t wait to get out there and meet the world head-on. And the birdies. I saw Dooley felt the same way, for his jaw had dropped and he was drooling.

“So how’s things over at your place?” I asked.

His happy gaze clouded over.“Rotten. That Brutus is spending more and more time at Marge’s place than he does at his own.”

Brutus was the black cat that belonged to Chase Kingsley, who was a new cop who’d recently moved to Hampton Cove. He was staying at Chief Alec’s, Odelia’s uncle, until he got a place of his own, but Brutus seemed to feel more at ease at the Pooles than at Uncle Alec’s. And then there was the fact that he was dating Harriet, of course, Odelia’s Gran’s white Persian, who lived in the same house. One big, happy family. Except that it wasn’t.

It had been a tough couple of weeks, Brutus being some kind of dictator, who liked to think he had to lay down the law to us plebeians. And since Dooley had always been sweet on Harriet himself, he was pretty much in hell right now.

“Brutus still being such a pain in the butt?” I asked.

Dooley nodded forlornly.“Last night he told me that from now on I should sleep on the floor. That all elevated surfaces were strictly reserved for him. Something about him having to have the best vantage point in case the house was being burglarized. I swear that cat is driving me up the wall.”

“That’s just plain silly,” I said, shaking my head. Both Dooley and I had been wracking our brains trying to come up with a way to take Brutus down a peg or two. But as long as Harriet was his girlfriend, that was kinda hard, especially since Harriet is pretty much the most beautiful cat in Hampton Cove, and whatever she says goes with humans.

“You can always sleep on my couch, Dooley,” I said magnanimously.

In spite of Brutus’s efforts to take over my house as well, so far he hadn’t succeeded. Fortunately Odelia still listened to me, and kicked him out when he became too much for me to handle. Oh, that’s right. Didn’t I tell you? Odelia is one of those rare humans who understands and speaks feline, on account of the fact that one of her forebears was a witch or something. Her mother and grandmother share the same gift, which comes in handy from time to time. Like when I have some scoop to share. You see, Odelia works for the Hampton Cove Gazette, and with the exclusive scoops we provide her she can practically fill the entire paper, earning her a reputation as the best reporter in town. She’s also the only reporter in town, apart from Dan Goory, the Gazette’s geriatric editor and Odelia’s boss.

Finally, Odelia came shooting out of the bathroom, smelling deliciously of fresh soap, and looking fresh as a daisy. For the occasion she was wearing a T-shirt that read‘John Paul George for President,’ beige slacks and her usual Chuck Taylors. She was also wearing a look of panic over how late it was.

“If you’re coming, you better get a move on!” she yelled as she hurried down the stairs, then came pounding up again to snatch her smartphone from the nightstand and raced out again.

“Looks like she’s going to have to skip breakfast,” I told Dooley.

“And coffee,” he said. “I wonder how she’s going to survive without her daily dose of caffeine.”

“I’m sure she’ll manage,” I said, reluctantly dragging my eyes away from the feathery feast outside my window, where the birds were still tweeting up a storm. Odelia had once made us swear never to kill a bird, and even though it killed us, we’d kept up our bargain so far. It was hard, though. Very hard. But in exchange for curbing our innate savagery she got us some of those delicious cat treats from time to time. What can I say? Life’s a trade-off.

Dooley and I gracefully dropped down to the floor, and languidly made our way to the landing, then descended the stairs. While Odelia rummaged around, grabbing her notes she’d prepared for the interview, her recorder and a couple John Paul George CDs she wanted signed, and dumped it all into her purse, I gobbled up a few tasty morsels of kibble, took a few licks of water, and then waited patiently by the door until Odelia was ready.

I knew it would take her at least three runs to fetch all of her stuff. She was one of those humans who are extremely disorganized. So when she finally yelled,“Ready or not, I’m going!” Dooley and I had been waiting ten minutes. We were eager, actually. Hot to trot, in fact. It’s not every day you meet your idol, and I knew Odelia was as excited as I was to meet JPG in the flesh. She because she’d grown up with his music, and I because I was finally going to find out if the rumors about that p?t? were true. No matter who I had to bribe, I was going to sample me some of those delicious goodies.

Dooley and I hopped into Odelia’s old pickup, and made ourselves comfortable on the backseat while she put the car in gear with a dreadful crunching sound that indicated she’d just destroyed what was left of the transmission. Miraculously, the car still lurched away from the curb, and five minutes later, we were cruising down the main drag of our small town.

Hampton Cove was just waking up, and Main Street was still pretty much deserted as we came hurtling through at breakneck speed. As a driver, Odelia is something of a legend in town. She’s probably had more fender benders than all the other residents combined, and the only reason she hasn’t been forced to declare bankruptcy to avoid paying traffic tickets is because her uncle is chief of police and tends to turn a blind eye to his niece’s peccadillos. He has repeatedly told her to be more careful, but she insists the problem doesn’t lie with her. She happens to be a great driver. It’s other road users insisting on getting in her way that create all that trouble for her.

Meanwhile, we’d zoomed through Hampton Cove and were now racing along a stretch of road that took us along the coastline and the fancy mansions that the rich and famous had built for themselves. Dooley and I glanced out at them with relish. We had friends who lived here, and sometimes described the kind of lifestyle they’d grown accustomed to. It was enough to boggle the mind. Not that we’re jealous cats, mind you. Odelia Poole is probably among the nicest and most decent and loving humans a cat can ever hope to adopt, but a monthly spa retreat just for cats? Cat birthday parties where all the othercat owners bring special treats? A walk-in closet just to fit all the costumes and fancy outfits? Like I said, it boggled the mind.

We finally arrived at the villa that was the home of John Paul George, eighties icon, and we were surprised to find that the entrance gate was wide open, a car haphazardly parked right next to it. As we rode past, we saw that inside the car a male figure was sleeping, his head slumped on the steering wheel, and recognized him as Jasper Pruce, JPG’s long-suffering boy toy.

“Someone was naughty last night,” Odelia said, lowering her sunglasses to get a good look at the guy. “JPG made him sleep outside, apparently.”

“Don’t humans usually have to sleep on the couch when they’re bad?” asked Dooley, who looked confused. Human behavior often confuses him.

“Looks like the couch was occupied,” I said, shaking my head.

We rode up to the house, and Odelia parked in the circular drive, right next to a fountain with a statue of JPG as a nude angel, spewing water out of its tush. We all hopped out and sauntered up to the front door. Odelia rang the bell, and we could hear it resonate inside the house. But even after she’d repeated the procedure, nobody showed up to answer, and she frowned.

She tried to peek through the glass brick wall next to the door, but it was impossible to get a good look because of its opaqueness.

She rang the bell again, biting her lower lip.“I hope he didn’t forget about our appointment. It has taken me months to nail down this exclusive.”

“Want us to have a look round the back?” I asked.

“Would you? I don’t dare to go there myself. What if he’s sunbathing in the nude and accuses me of trespassing? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dooley and I moved off on a trot and rounded the house. We arrived at the back, where a large verandah offered a glimpse of the inside, but saw no evidence of anyone sunbathing, in the nude or otherwise.

“Oh, look,” said Dooley. “He’s got a pool.”

And indeed he did. We walked over to the pool to take a closer look, and that’s when we saw it: a lifeless figure was floating facedown in the center of the pool, completely in the nude, and judging from the large tattoo of two mating unicorns on his left buttock and a rainbow on the right, this was none other than John Paul George himself. I remembered seeing that tattoowhen Odelia was researching the singer last night, and even though it looked slightly saggy now, having been tatted during the pop sensation’s glory days, it was still recognizable.

John Paul George, eighties boy wonder, was either breathing underwater, or he was dead.

Chapter 2

After we told Odelia what was going on, we pussyfooted back to the pool area, this time with Odelia right behind us. But even as we led the way, she told us,“This is a very bad idea, you guys. I shouldn’t be back here.”

It seemed like a weird thing to say for a top reporter, and I told her so.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Strictly speaking this is trespassing. And what’s even worse, if what you’re saying is true and John Paul George is dead and floating in his pool, I might get into a lot of trouble here.”

It was the arrival in town of that new cop, I knew. The old Odelia wouldn’t have thought twice about trespassing, and the fact that a famous celebrity was dead in their pool would only have made her run faster. But Kingsley’s arrival had apparently robbed her of her journalistic instincts.

“Look, the guy invited you,” I said. “So you’re not trespassing.”

“Well, that’s true, I suppose.”

“Besides, officially you don’t know that he’s dead. You didn’t hear it from us. You just wondered why he didn’t answer the door, you got worried, and you thought you’d better check, in case something had happened to him.”

“I like your thinking,” she said, nodding. We’d walked around to the back of the house, and she gasped when she caught sight of the floating body. The last doubts as to whether the guy was snorkeling were removed: for one thing he wasn’t equipped with a snorkel, and for another, no one can hold their breath for that long, and certainly not a fifty-year-old drug-addled pop star.

“Oh, God,” said Odelia as she approached the pool. Then she proved that she was still the ace reporter I knew her to be: instead of a pool hook, she grabbed her smartphone and snapped a few shots of the deceased.

“Do you think he’s dead?” asked Dooley.

“I think that’s a pretty safe assumption,” I said.

“Is it John Paul George?” was his next question.

I pointed at the tattoos on his behind.“See those tats?”

Dooley nodded.“Uh-huh.”

“Only a pop star who’s consumed massive amounts of dope and booze would ever even think of having those particular tattoos inked on his butt.”

“Dope?” asked Dooley. “What is dope?”

“It’s, um, like p?t? for humans, only not as good for you.”

“We have to call the police,” said Odelia.

We all stared down at the floating body. The former teenage heartthrob was now twice the size he’d been in his eighties heyday. No wonder he was rarely seen these days, and never granted any interviews. One stipulation he’d given Odelia for her exclusive was no pictures, and I could see why. He probably wanted to preserve the image of his youthful self to his fanbase, not allowing them tosee the extended version of himself he’d turned into.

Odelia pressed her phone to her ear, and when the call connected, said,“Dolores? Can you tell my uncle there’s been an accident at John Paul George’s place? And tell him to send an ambulance. Yeah, he’s dead.”

While she gave the dispatcher some instructions, my eye wandered to the pile of glass vials on a table, the dozen or so empty champagne bottles on the pool chairs and the ashtrays full of reefers. That must have been some party.

“Oh, and can you also tell him JPG’s boyfriend is dozing in a car in front of the estate. Maybe he’s got something to do with this tragedy. Thanks, hon.”

She disconnected and crouched down at the edge of the pool. It was obvious that the demise of one of pop music’s greats had strongly affected her, to the extent she’d stopped snapping pictures, probably out of respect.

Just at that moment, a cat came walking out of the house. She was a beautiful Siamese, and said,“What’s all this noise? And who are you people?” Then she caught sight of the man floating in the pool and faltered. “Is that…”

“Afraid it is,” I told her, and watched her approach the pool wearily.

“Is he… dead?”

“Afraid so,” I repeated, studying her closely.

She jerked back when the truth hit her.“Oh, no. Johnny’s dead?”

“Looks like it,” I said. “How long had you known him?”

The segue wasn’t very smooth, I admit, but that’s what you get from living with a reporter: you start acting like one yourself.

She shook her head distractedly.“Long enough to know that this isn’t right.” She plunked down on her haunches, and stared at her dead human.

“Is it true that he fed you guys p?t? every day?” asked Dooley.

She looked up sharply.“What kind of a question is that? Who are you?”

“The name is Dooley,” he said, scooting forward, probably to rub his butt against hers. But the look she gave him quickly dissuaded him.

“You’re trespassing, Dooley,” she said simply. “Please leave.”

I shot Dooley a censorious glance and he lifted his shoulders.“What?”

“You can’t ask the cat of a recently deceased human about p?t?,” I hissed.

“Why not? Isn’t that what we came here for?”

“Well, you just can’t,” I whispered. Even though I was pretty curious about that p?t?, too, of course. But there’s a time for p?t? and now wasn’t it.

Just then, two more cats came sauntering out of the house, and then two more, and before we could say hi to the first bunch, we’d been joined by a dozen cats, and they all sat staring at the dead man. Then, as one cat, they all started mewling plaintively, letting their torment be heard across the pool.

Dooley gave me a curious look, but instead of explaining to him that this was what cats did when their owner suddenly passed away, and especially an owner as generous with the p?t? as John Paul George apparently was, I decided to join in the ritual. After a moment’s hesitation, so did Dooley, and before long, we were both howling along, our cat choir practice finally coming to good use. Even though JPG hadn’t been our human, we could certainly understand the distress that comes with having to say goodbye to a beloved human, and as we mewled up a storm, Odelia simply sat there.

Soon, our howls mingled with the sounds of a police siren, and before long we were joined by Chief Alec, Chase Kingsley, and other members of the Hampton Cove Police Department. They all walked up to Odelia and for a moment simply stood staring at us cats, as we continued our caterwauling. Then, just as abruptly as we’d started, we broke off, and one by one the cats all drifted back inside. They’d said their goodbyes and the show was over.

Dooley and I decided to follow the others inside and glean what information we could from them. That, and we desperately wanted to take a look at the house, of course, and how the other cats lived.

The house itself was a genuine mansion, with nice hardwood floors and huge portraits of the singer adorning every room. The man had apparently possessed a healthy dose of self-love, for he was staring down at us from every wall in every room we passed through. I quickly trotted after the group of cats as they made their way to what looked like a family room. At least it was where a collection of cream-colored sofas were gathered around an outsized coffee table that held a collection of outsized coffee-table books, all sporting pictures of nude males on the covers and all visibly well-thumbed.

The cats hopped up onto the couches and the coffee table and made themselves comfortable. In one corner of the room stood a white grand piano, and here, too, several cats stretched out and chilled.

I decided to follow the Siamese, who seemed the only one willing to talk, and saw she’d sauntered into what looked like a recording studio off the family room. A lot of studio equipment indicated this was some kind of home studio, with an actual sound studio, recording booth and plenty of instruments placed against the far wall. I also saw enough gold and platinum albums to fill a hall of fame. This was JPG’s personal hall of fame, that was obvious. The Siamese sat next to an acoustic guitar that was placed on the floor, next to a couple of bean bags, a stack of music paper nearby.

“Was this where he composed his music?” I asked.

She nodded, and appeared on the verge of tears.

“He was a great artist,” I told her. “An icon of his generation.”

She looked up sharply.“What do you mean, his generation? He was the musical icon of this century, and the last. The greatest living artist, bar none.”

“Well, there are others,” Dooley argued. “I mean, what about The Beatles? The Stones? Dylan?” He shut up when she gave him a dirty look.

“None of them were as influential and as talented as Johnny,” she said, and it was clear we were dealing with an actual groupie here. A super fan.

“So what happened last night?” I asked, deciding it was perhaps better to grab the bull by the horns, or the Siamese by the ears, as was the case.

She shook her head.“He was partying hard, as usual. He’d just had another fight with Jasper, and he was overcompensating.”

“Jasper?” mouthed Dooley.

“The boyfriend,” I mouthed back. “We saw that. He’s parked out front.”

“That often happen?” asked Dooley.

She nodded.“They’d been fighting a lot lately. Jasper didn’t like that Johnny consumed so much… candy. He said that wasn’t what he’d signed up for. But Johnny said it gave him the boost he needed to create his music.”

“Candy?” asked Dooley.

“Dope,” I told him. “So Johnny still recorded?”

“Oh, yes, he did,” said the Siamese with a smile. “Johnny must have recorded hundreds of songs since I came to live with him. All masterpieces.”

“I’ll bet,” Dooley muttered, earning himself another scowl.

“When was this?” I asked.

She flickered her eyelashes at me.“Is that a roundabout way of asking me how old I am?”

“Um…”

“Johnny took in any stray that wandered into his home,” she continued with a wistful smile. “But he got me from a proper breeder five years ago and I have the pedigree to show for it. Not that it matters.” She sighed. “Johnny was the most generous human a cat could ever hope to come across. He loved all of his children, as he called us, and cared for us deeply.” Once again, it looked as if she was on the verge of tears, and Dooley and I stared at her sheepishly.

I would have gone over and said,‘There, there,’ but somehow I doubted whether this would go over well with this feisty and proud Siamese.

“Do you think there might have been foul play involved?” I asked instead.

She stared at me with her beautiful blue eyes.“I doubt it. Who would want to harm such a sweet and charming man? Everybody loved Johnny, and not just us cats. He had lots of friends, and partied every single night.”

“What about his boyfriend?” I asked. “You said yourself he was jealous.”

“Impossible. They might have had their differences, but Johnny and Jasper loved each other, in their own way. They had an understanding.”

“Which was?” asked Dooley.

She eyed him angrily. For some reason she didn’t seem to like Dooley. “I don’t expect you to understand, but they gave each other freedom and respect. Jasper knew Johnny was an artist and needed his space, so he happily gave him what he needed. He knew Johnny would never hurt him intentionally, but that he had certain… needs, and so heturned a blind eye.”

“Right,” I muttered, remembering the pile of glass vials and the reefers and the bottles of champagne. I now wondered what had been in those vials.

“How many people were here for the party?” I asked.

She shrugged.“Maybe a dozen. Only one stayed the night, though.”

“And it wasn’t Jasper,” said Dooley.

“Like I said,” she snapped. “They had an understanding.”

“Though last night they also had a fight,” I reminded her.

“Yes, Jasper told Johnny he was fearing for his health. He was using too much and too frequently.”

“Using what?” I asked.

“Some… substance. It came in clear glass vials. It made Johnny happy.”

And now it had made him dead, I thought.“So who was the lucky young man who got to stay behind last night?”

“No idea. I was roaming the beach, and so were most of the others.”

“So who—”

“George told me. George never goes anywhere.”

“And who is this George?”

“He’s Johnny’s first cat. He brought him over from England years ago.”

“George must be pretty old by now.”

She laughed.“Don’t tell him that to his face. George is very vain.”

“Where can we find him?”

“You won’t get anything useful out of him,” she said as she started strumming the guitar with her nails. “George is extremely loyal.”

“We’ll see about that,” I muttered. “Thanks, Miss…”

“Johnny always called me Princess,” she said, and sighed. “I’ll miss him.”

I could very well imagine. If my human died one day, I’d miss her, too. Us cats might have the reputation we’re selfish and we don’t care about humans, but that’s a filthy lie. We do care about our humans. We just don’t care to show it as much as dogs do, with their exaggerated slobbering and posturing.

Dooley and I left the distraught Princess and made our way back to the family room, where the other cats were still looking glum. I wondered what was going to happen to them. I imagined JPG must have made provisions in his will for his beloved felines, and they would all be taken good care of.

“This makes me sad,” said Dooley, gesturing at the sad-looking cats.

“Yeah, it’s not a barrel of laughs,” I agreed.

We both stared up at a life-sized portrait of the pop singer. It depicted him in his prime, with naked torso, looking like a young god. At his feet a large red cat sat perched, staring haughtily at the viewer.

I pointed at the cat.“I’ll bet that’s George.”

“You want to have a chat with George? Or check out that p?t? first?”

It was a tough choice. We’d come here for the p?t?, obviously, but we also had an obligation to Odelia to find out as much as we could from the feline population about what had happened here last night. Finally, I said, “That p?t? isn’t going away, so we better talk to George first.”

“Didn’t you hear Princess? George has been here for years. He’s the one who’s not going away. That p?t? might be gone by the time we find it.” He shook his head. “A distressed cat eats, Max. It’s called stress-eating.”

He was right, of course. Still… “Look, this talk with George won’t take long, and I’ll bet there’s plenty of p?t?. JPG didn’t stint on anything.”

“Why don’t we split up? I’ll look for the p?t? and you look for George.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “So you can eat all the p?t?? I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Max. I’m not a glutton. I’d simply sample the stuff. Just to see if it’s as good as advertised. And if it is, I’ll leave some for you.”

“That’s very generous. You know what? I’ll look for that p?t?. You find George.”

“You’re a much better interrogator, Max. Cats open up to you.”

“Why don’t we find that p?t? together,” I finally suggested, “before it’s all gone.”

“Now you’re talking. Hey, look,” he said, gesturing at a lone ginger cat that shuffled out of the family room. It was the fattest cat I’d ever seen.

“That must be George,” I said.

“Let’s ask him where the p?t? is,” Dooley said happily.

“Good call,” I grunted, a low rumble in my tummy deciding me.

Hey, we’re cats. We’re willing to do whatever it takes to help out our humans. As long as you keep us properly fed and hydrated.

Chapter 3

Odelia got up to meet her uncle and Chase. She’d been seated on one of the pool chairs, thinking deep thoughts about the fleetingness of life.

She gestured at the man floating in the pool.“This is how I found him.”

“And what were you doing here, exactly?” asked Chase, none too friendly as usual. Ever since the burly cop had moved to Hampton Cove, he and Odelia had locked horns over his idea that the citizenry had no place in police investigations, whereas she felt she was simply doing her duty to the Hampton Cove population by reporting on any crime that was committed here.

“I had an interview with him, and when he didn’t answer the door…”

“You decided to break in,” Chase supplied.

“I was worried when he didn’t answer the door,” she said with some heat. Why did this guy insist on rubbing her the wrong way? “So, yes, I decided to walk round the back and see what was going on. What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t believe you have to ask,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

Uncle Alec knelt next to the pool.“That’s Johnny, all right,” he said.

“How do you know?” asked Chase, joining him.

The Chief pointed.“See those tattoos? Johnny was famous for those. They were on one of his bestselling albums. Unicorns and Rainbows.”

“I remember,” said Chase, nodding, and started singing softly. “Unicorns and rainbows. That’s the way the wind blows. Loved you in those funky cornrows…”

Now it was Odelia’s turn to give him a curious look.

“What? I loved that song,” said Chase.

“I had you pegged as a country and western kind of guy. Not a JPG fan.”

“Hey, I was young once.”

“Hard to imagine,” she muttered. She saw that her uncle was checking the glass vials on the poolside table. “What do you think those are?”

“If I had to venture a guess I’d say GHB,” he said.

“Liquid G? The date rape drug?”

He nodded.“It’s supposed to supply a great high. Used by ravers.”

She imagined her uncle saw these drugs all the time during the summer, when teenagers descended upon the Hamptons in droves to party all night.

Chase walked over and eyed the vials closely. He put on plastic evidence gloves and carefully picked one up and sniffed it.“You could be right, Chief.”

Uncle Alec nodded.“It’s no secret that JPG was a heavy user of the stuff. It’s been rumored for years he got his stash of GHB right here in town, but I’ve never been able to pinpoint who exactly his dealer was.”

“If it is Liquid G,” said Chase, “it might be what killed him.”

More people arrived now, and Odelia recognized one of them as the medical examiner, a scruffy-looking paunchy man with electric gray hair. Under his instructions they carefully dragged the body of the late singer to the side, then hoisted him up out of the water and placed him on a plastic tarp. The sight was disconcerting to say the least, and Odelia uttered an involuntary gasp. She hadn’t seen any pictures of the singer in years, and since he was completely naked, she now got to see all of him and it wasn’t flattering. The man was bloated, and it wasn’t because he’d been in the water all night either, she guessed. JPG had obviously let himself go, and looked nothing like his trim and sexy self. Of course that had been thirty years ago.

The medical examiner quickly and expertly checked the body, while Chase and Uncle Alec went over the crime scene, along with the other officers. Odelia, meanwhile, stood back. She might be there in a non-official capacity because her uncle allowed it, but that didn’t mean she could actively participate in the investigation.

“Did you check the boyfriend at the gate?” she asked when Uncle Alec wandered over.

“Yes, we did. Apparently they had some kind of a fight last night, and he drove off, only to return and spend the night in his car. From what I can tell, it wasn’t the first time. There have been complaints from neighbors about screaming fights the last couple of months. They were not a happy couple.”

“Poor guy. He had to sit back and watch his boyfriend invite over these…” She gestured at the bottles of champagne and the vials. “Friends.”

“Male escorts is the word,” said Uncle Alec. “You don’t have to pay friends to have sex and party all night. You have to pay these guys, though.”

“Kinda sad for a man like JPG to lead a life like this, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well, if this was the life he chose, that was entirely his business,” said the Chief, who believed in the age-old adage of live and let live, as long you didn’t hurt others. It was a credo that helped him cope with the celebrities that lived in these beachfront properties, and sometimesliked to do stuff that no clean-living, well-meaning Hampton Covian would.

“What do you think happened?” she asked now.

He scratched his scalp.“I think Johnny had himself a great party here last night, lots of booze and dope, he overdosed and drowned.”

“So you think it was an accident?”

He raised his eyebrows, and wandered over to the coroner.“Abe?”

“Well, he didn’t drown, that’s for certain,” said the coroner.

Both Odelia and her uncle looked at him in surprise.

“No water in the lungs as far as I can tell,” the coroner explained. “Though I’ll have to get him on my slab to know for sure.”

“Overdose?” the chief asked.

The coroner looked up at them from his position next to the body.“If it was an overdose it wasn’t from GHB, if that’s what you’re thinking. This man died of a seizure of some kind. But like I said, I’ll know more later on.”

Both Uncle Alec and Odelia’s eyes flashed to the pile of vials on the table.

The coroner nodded.“I’ll have them examined. See what they contain.”

Chase, who’d been checking around the pool area, returned with two items dangling from his gloved fingers. One was a bright red Mankini, the other looked like a used condom. He gave the chief a grim-faced look. “Plenty more where this came from,” he grunted. “At least five more.”

“Some party,” muttered the Chief. “Why don’t you interview the boyfriend?” he suggested to Chase. “I’ll have a look around the house.” He turned to Odelia. “And you… why don’t you do what you do best?”

She nodded her understanding. Uncle Alec was one of the few people in the world who knew about her ability to talk to cats, and with so many cats on the premises, there was a good chance one of them had seen something.

“And what is that, exactly?” asked Chase. “Snooping around?”

She gave him a thin-lipped smile.“That’s right. I’m an ace snooper.”

He shook his head, and muttered,“Unbelievable.”

It was safe to say he wasn’t a big fan of Uncle Alec’s policy of including his niece in his investigations. But since he wasn’t in charge, there was nothing he could do but grumble.

She passed into the house, in search of the cats, and found about a dozen of them looking glum and occupying couches and every other available surface in the family room. She took a seat to talk to them, but they merely stared at her with their sad eyes, and refused to acknowledge her presence.

Finally, she wandered on, hoping that Max and Dooley had had better luck. The house was just what you’d expect from a famous singer. At first glance, she saw a vintage guitar in a glass display case, and knew it was the guitar that had been on the cover of his first hit record. Huge portraits of the man were everywhere, looking as he did in his prime. This wasn’t the house of a mere mortal, but a genuine star.

She arrived in the hallway, with its sweeping staircase, and wondered where Max and Dooley could be. The house was so big it was easy to get lost. She decided to venture upstairs and see if her cats were there. Ascending the stairs, she was careful not to touch anything, knowing the crime scene people would want to check the entire place for fingerprints.

Arriving on the landing, she saw several doors leading off the central hallway, and wondered how many rooms there could possibly be in this place. Every door sported an enlarged laminated reproduction of one of his album covers. For a moment, she stood poised, wondering where to start. Then, suddenly, she thought she heard a noise. It seemed to be coming from one of the rooms behind her so she turned and walked over. The door was ajar so she gently pushed it open with her elbow, and peered inside.

The first thing she saw was a huge multi-colored cockatoo, staring back at her from its perch in front of the window. So that explained the sound. And as she entered the room, she saw this was probably the master bedroom, as it was easily as large as a single floor of her own house. At the center of the room stood a large heart-shaped bed, with mirrored ceiling, and on this bed, she saw, rested the naked form of a very well-endowed young man.

He was fast asleep, in spite of the mutterings of the cockatoo, but then the large parrot reared up, spread its wings and took flight, screaming,“Come here, pretty boy! Come to Papa! Come to Papa right now, pretty boy!”

The young man suddenly jerked up, caught sight of Odelia, and started screaming, scrambling back against the wall, where a giant portrait of John Paul George had been placed, completely in the nude and looking buff.

“It’s all right!” Odelia yelled, holding up her hands. “I’m a friend!”

But this didn’t seem to console the young man, who looked like a male model, and was absolutely out of it. Probably still high from last night, she guessed, for his pupils were extremely dilated, and he seemed berserk.

He was probably one of last night’s guests, and perhaps the last person to see the singer alive. His screams, meanwhile, carried through the open window and down to the pool area, and already she could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. Moments later, Chase burst into the room, his eyes flying to the naked man on the bed. Then he caught sight of Odelia and shook his head. “I leave you alone for five minutes…”

The guy, taking a good look at Chase, now stopped screaming.“Hey!” he shouted, suddenly looking disgruntled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I…” Chase began, but didn’t get the chance to continue.

“Were you with Johnny just now? Don’t you know the rules, man?”

“What rules?” Chase asked with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“The rules, man! The one selected by Johnny stays.” He then slapped his sculpted chest. “I was selected, buddy. I get to stay. Not you. Me! I’m the one who gets paid the big bucks. So why don’t you get the hell out of here?!”

“Wowowow,” said Chase, finally grasping the man’s meaning.

“He thinks you’re an escort, Chase,” said Odelia helpfully.

“Hey!” cried Chase. “I’m not… No way can you even think that I’m…”

“You’re a pretty boy,” said the escort. “But I’m prettier. Now beat it.”

“Yes, pretty boy Chase,” Odelia said. “You weren’t chosen, so beat it.”

“You, too, lady,” said the escort. “Johnny’s not into bony bitches, or any bitches, for that matter, so get the hell out of here or I’ll tell the agency.”

Now it was Odelia’s turn to glare at the guy. “I’m not bony!”

“You’re practically a stick figure,” said the escort. He was right about one thing, though, and so was the cockatoo. He really was a very pretty boy.

“Look, I’m not an escort, all right?” said Chase. “I’m a cop.”

“That’s great. Who cares? Cops, firemen, construction workers. Johnny’s tastes run the gamut. But this time he chose a college professor. Me!”

“You’re a college professor?” asked Odelia.

The guy planted his hands on his narrow hips.“Don’t I look like a college professor to you?”

“Not like any college professors I’ve ever seen,” she said, remembering her own college days. The professors had all been woolly-headed hobbits. Maybe if they’d looked more like this guy she’d have paid attention.

“I don’t care! I was chosen! Johnny chose me! Me! Me! Me!”

At this point, Chase must have had enough, for he suddenly pulled his gun, and pointed it at the self-declared college professor.“Hands up!”

“Oh, now you’re talking,” said the guy, still pretty hyped-up. “Are you gonna shoot me, cop? Are you going to take a shot at me?! Catch me if you can!”

And with these words, he hopped from the bed and before either Odelia or Chase could stop him, jumped out the window!

They both hurried over and stared down. The naked college professor lay sprawled on what had been JPG’s terrace table, which had collapsed when he’d taken a running leap at it. Two uniformed officers leaned over him.

“Is he dead?” yelled Chase.

One of them looked up.“Nope.”

“Too bad,” grunted Chase, holstering his weapon.

And as both he and Odelia headed down, she said,“You could be an escort, you know, pretty boy.”

He gave her a grin, which was the first time today.“Good to know I’ve got a backup career plan in case my days as a cop are over.” Then he gave her a quick once-over. “And for your information, you’re not bony at all.”

“Thanks,” she said, and felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

Just then, the cockatoo decided to join them. Shouting,“Come here, pretty boy!” he swung down and landed on Chase’s shoulder. “Come to Papa!”

“Christ,” growled Chase. “I hate this case already.”

Chapter 4

While Odelia and Chase were otherwise engaged, Dooley and I hadn’t given up on our mission to talk to George, JPG’s First Cat, as the others apparently called him. We followed the ancient feline into an enormous kitchen, all gleaming surfaces and expansive kitchen block, and watched him waddle up to a nice row of bowls, all lined up against the window like soldiers on parade. There was a bowl for each cat in Johnny’s menagerie, and they were jumbo-sized and filled to the brim. Whatever his faults, the man certainly knew how to take care of his felines. Eagerly, we approached the bowls. It wasn’t kibble, like we got at home. It was something much better. Something squishy and tender. Something that smelled a lot like…

“P?t?!” Dooley cried enthusiastically. “I love John Paul George!”

I felt a strong urge to dig in and take what wasn’t necessarily mine, but Odelia had raised me better than that. I would have liked to say the same thing about Dooley, but unfortunately I was wrong. The moment I turned my back, I heard distinct gobbling sounds, and when I looked back at my partner, I saw he was eagerly digging into a bowl that wasn’t his. According to the name printed on the bowl in gold lettering, it belonged to Princess.

“Dooley!” I hissed.

“Wha?” he mumbled between two bites.

“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, God, this is so good,” he muttered, and simply kept on eating.

Shaking my head at so much foolishness, I trotted over to the far end of the long line of bowls, and joined George, who’d plunked down in front of his own bowl, and was feasting on his own portion with leisurely licks of his pink tongue. As the resident Methuselah, George was easily twice my size, and I’m not a small cat myself. His own bowl, aptly labeled ‘George,’ was also bigger than the others, and the one closest to the fridge. It was obvious that George was theprimus inter pares in this small feline community.

I cleared my throat to announce my arrival. George looked up lazily, gave me a quick scrutiny, then dug his face into his bowl again and gobbled on.

“Hi, there,” I said, as chipper as I could muster. It’s hard to be cheerful when everyone is eating p?t? and you’re the only one left out, due to some personal moral code that I was now seriously starting to question.

This time he looked up long enough to utter a few words. He sounded like The Godfather, speaking as if he had cotton balls in his mouth.“And who are you then, brother?”

“The name is Max. I’m with Odelia Poole? She’s the one who found…”

He shook his head, his chins quivering.“Sad state of affairs. Very sad.”

“So you heard?”

“I did more than that. I actually saw how he died.”

Bingo!“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.

“Thanks.” He heaved a rattling sigh and plunked down on his haunches. “It’s a sad day for all of us here at Xanadu.”

“Xanadu?”

“That’s how Johnny called this place. He was a big Olivia Newton-John fan. And Gene Kelly, of course.”

The reference completely went over my head, but then I wasn’t as old as George, of course. “So what happened? How did he die?” I asked.

“Too much happy juice,” he said, producing a tiny burp.

“Happy juice?”

“Oh, did he love the stuff. Took it all the time. I think it’s safe to say he couldn’t live without it, much to Jasper’s chagrin. He hated the stuff.”

“So too much happy juice, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s like catnip to us cats, but for humans, and, unlike catnip, it’s odorless. I should know. I once took a sniff of the stuff. No smell at all.”

My mind flashed back to the vials. Of course. Happy juice. It must be the stuff that was in those vials. Some kind of drug, apparently.

“What a meal,” sighed Dooley, sauntering over, still licking his lips.

I took one look at Princess’s bowl and saw that Dooley had eaten the lot. Uh-oh. If Princess discovered her bowl empty, there would be hell to pay.

“So you think Johnny drank too much happy juice and that’s how he died?” I asked, the exact order of events still a little fuzzy.

George nodded.“Like I said, I saw the whole thing. He was taking a breather after doing the horizontal mambo with one of those young hounds.”

I wondered why a human would dance the mambo with a dog, but then stranger things have happened, so I let it slide.“And then what happened?”

“Well, the whippersnapper decided to go to bed and Johnny said he’d join him in just a minute. And that’s when he took another one of his happy juice potions. He needed those to keep up with the young ‘uns, see?” The recollection seemed to affect the big cat powerfully, for suddenly his whiskers started trembling violently. “He knocked back that juice, standing at the edge of the pool, and looking as happy as I’d ever seen him.”

“Hence the name ‘happy juice,’” I supplied.

“Exactly. But then, suddenly, he gasped and clutched for his heart.”

“And then what happened?” asked Dooley, his own eyes also widening.

George shrugged.“He stiffened and pitched over into the pool.”

“That must have been a real shock,” said Dooley, hanging on the big cat’s every word.

“You can bet your whiskers it was. And I would have gone in after him, but I can’t swim. And I hate water. So I started screaming for help, but no one ever came. And that’s when I knew Johnny was a goner.”

“He drank his final happy juice,” Dooley supplied, quite unnecessarily.

George sighed.“Yes, he certainly did.”

“What about the boyfriend?” I asked. “Was he there when it happened?”

I already knew the answer to that one, of course, but it never hurt to double-check with an actual eyewitness.

“No, Jasper left in a huff after he made a fuss about the happy juice. And about those young hounds Johnny insisted on having over night after night.”

I could definitely relate. I didn’t like young hounds either, or any kind of hounds, for that matter. Dumb mutts. What surprised me was that I hadn’t seen a trace of these young hounds anywhere. Looked like they’d all fled.

“Though Jasper hating those young hounds was pretty ironic,” said George. “Seeing as that’s how he and Johnny met in the first place.”

“Because of the hounds?” I asked, confused.

“Well, he was one of them, wasn’t he?”

This surprised me. A dog turning into a human was a feat I’d never seen performed. But then there are many things in this world that are beyond my comprehension. Live and learn. “He was a young hound himself once?”

“He sure was. One of the first. He was Johnny’s first favorite, the one he asked to stay the night, and the night after that, and then the next night. And finally he never left, did he? Only Johnny had an insatiable appetite.”

“For… hounds?” I asked.

“Sure. Jasper never had a chance of scratching that itch all by himself. Johnny needed more, and he needed different, and he needed it every single night. It drove Jasper up the wall. They fought about it all the time.”

“About the happy juice and those… hounds,” I said, just to be sure.

“Us cats rooted for Jasper, of course.”

“Of course,” I said, though how a cat could root for a dog was beyond me.

“But he never had a chance. He wanted Johnny all for himself, you see. Had visions of the two of them growing old together. But Johnny didn’t do old. He wanted to stay young forever, and sharing his bed with those young studs every night made him feel young. That and the happy juice, of course.”

“Young… studs,” I said uncertainly. How we’d gone from dogs to horses I didn’t know, but I was determined not to show my confusion.

“And of course Johnny was a star. You can’t tie down a star.”

Or a stud, apparently, though it’s been known to happen.

“Johnny was larger than life, and nobody was going to have him all to themselves, not even me,” he said with a sad look in his eyes as he silently surveyed the long row of bowls.

I got his drift, of course. Poor cat. He’d come all the way from England to America, only to have to share his human and his home with at least a dozen strays, a couple of hounds and a few studs, too. An entire menagerie, in fact.

“What’s going to happen now?” I asked, gesturing at the bowls.

“Life goes on, partner. Someone will take care of us. Probably Jasper.”

That figured. The dog-turned-human would take care of his cat friends. And probably kick out the hounds and studs. Almost like a Disney movie.

“You think Jasper will inherit?”

“I hope so,” said George, now trying to lick his butt but finally giving up. His large belly was in the way, and he was not as limber as he used to be.

“Well, at least you’ll always have Jasper,” I said.

“Yeah, Jasper is a sweetheart,” said George. “We’re in good hands.”

At this, he gave up on the struggle to lick his butt, plunked down on the floor and promptly dozed off. It happens, especially to cats of a certain age.

Dooley and I exchanged a glance, and before I could help it, I was staring wistfully at George’s jumbo-sized bowl. What I would give for a helping of that delicious p?t?. Just the smell was enough to make my mouth water.

“Take a nibble, Max,” Dooley said. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Didn’t you hear the cat? They’re in good hands with this Jasper.”

“I am kinda peckish,” I admitted. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and after all this tripping around and interviewing cats, I could do with a bit of food.

“Well, then?” he asked. “What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

I’m not proud of what happened next. I caved. I checked left and right, like a regular bandit, and finally dug in. I was smart about it, though. Instead of cleaning out a single bowl, like Dooley had done, I simply sampled some food from all the bowls, twelve in a row, so no one would even notice.And when I’d finally reached the last one, I’d eaten my fill and was in cat heaven.

“Oh, God. This stuff is simply divine,” I gushed.

“Isn’t it?” asked Dooley with a grin.

“Best food I’ve ever tasted. Pity Odelia is not an aging pop star.”

“If she was, we’d have to share with a dozen other cats,” said Dooley.

He had a point. Now already we were having trouble with Brutus, the new cat in town. I couldn’t imagine having to share my food and home with a dozen more like him. Or a bunch of dogs and horses, for that matter.

No, perhaps things were the way they should be. But next time when Odelia went grocery shopping, I think I’ll still ask her to buy a bit of p?t?.

Chapter 5

We rode back to Hampton Cove in silence, Dooley and I fully content after our culinary feast. We’d told the whole story about the cats and the dogs and the horses and the happy juice to Odelia, and it was obvious we’d given her plenty of food for thought, for she was also conspicuously silent.

On our way into town, she dropped us off at the police station. Even though her uncle doesn’t mind her lending a hand with the investigation, he draws the line at allowing her to sit in on interviews with suspects. But since nobody notices a couple of cats skulking about, we were her eyes and ears.

The moment we arrived, we quickly made our way to the back of the police station, where we knew Chief Alec’s office was, and hopped up onto the windowsill to await further developments. The chief had just arrived back when we got there, and Chase Kingsley was in his office to discuss the case.

“Don’t you think the Chief suspects we’re spying on him?” asked Dooley.

“I’m sure he does. But as long as Odelia is careful how she words her articles, he’s fine with it. It’s Chase we have to watch out for, though. He doesn’t know about Odelia’s special gift, and should never find out.”

“He won’t find out from me,” said Dooley. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t find out from Harriet.” He gave me a knowing look.

Harriet might spill the beans to Brutus, who might try and get word out to Chase. Luckily for us he didn’t share our gift of being able to talk to his human. And for Odelia’s sake, it was important he never would.

Just when we arrived, Chase and the Chief packed up their files and filed out of the office, probably to continue their business in some other part of the station house. No matter. Every room had a window, and windows had sills, so… We quickly trudged over to interrogation room number one, for I had a hunch they were going to interview their first suspect. And… bingo. As we made ourselves comfortable, the Chief and Chase took a seat in front of an olive-skinned man with slicked-back black hair and dark eyes. He looked a little disheveled, and suddenly I recognized him as the man who’d been slumped over the wheel of his car. This was none other than Jasper Pruce.

“It’s the boyfriend,” Dooley whispered excitedly, having come to the same conclusion.

“Looks like he’s been arrested,” I whispered back, gesturing at his handcuffs.

“Oh, no!” cried Dooley. “That means George has no one to take care of him!”

“I’m sure Johnny had plenty of servants,” I assured him. “Someone will keep that p?t? coming.”

Inside the room, JPG’s boyfriend didn’t look too happy. Upon closer inspection I could see that his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard and his general appearance bedraggled. He looked like a guy who’d slept in his clothes after a vicious fight, and had just discovered his boyfriend dead.

“There’s only one thing I want to know from you,” Chase said, opening proceedings. “And that’s why you did it.”

“Did what?” asked Jasper wearily.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Chase growled. “We found your fingerprints on the vial containing the venom.”

This made Jasper sit up and take notice, and us, too. Venom?

“What venom?” Jasper asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games, Jasper,” said the Chief. “You know as well as we do you poisoned one of Johnny’s GHB vials. We don’t know what venom you used, exactly, but that’s only a matter of time. Just tell us why you did it.”

“Oh, God,” said Jasper, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” said Chase. “And since we only found two fingerprints on the vial: yours and Johnny’s, it’s obvious you planted the venom. Why did you do it, Jasper? Huh? Was it the money? Or were you simply so fed up with the endless nightly parade of young studs that you couldn’t stand it anymore?”

Good thing that Odelia had patiently explained that Jasper was, in fact, human, and that the hounds and studs George had mentioned were also humans. I had to admit it was all very confusing, and I had to strain my brain to keep up. I focused on the conversation inside, and the effort must have shown on my face, for suddenly a voice sounded from the other window.

“What’s wrong, Max? Chase’s questions too tough for you to figure out?”

Both Dooley and I looked over, alarmed, and when we saw that Brutus sat perched on the next window, together with Harriet, we almost fell from our own windowsill in shock and surprise.

“Brutus!” I cried.

“Harriet!” Dooley exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?” we both asked in unison.

The buff black cat shrugged.“Same thing you dumbbells are doing. Conducting an investigation into the murder of the warbler.” He grinned. “And this time I’m going to beat you. I’m going to catch the killer and tell Chase.”

“You keep forgetting you can’t talk to your human,” I reminded him.

His smirk disappeared.“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll find a way.”

“You can’t do this,” said Dooley. “You can’t take over this investigation.”

“Watch me. I’m a cop cat, remember? You’re just a bunch of amateurs.”

My eyes swiveled to Harriet, who hadn’t spoken. “How could you?”

“Yeah, how could you, Harriet?” Dooley asked, sounding even more upset than I was. He’d always had a thing for the snowy white Persian.

“I think Brutus is right,” she said, lifting her chin. “I just don’t think it’s fair of you to give Odelia this advantage. Someone has to level the playing field, and I think Brutus is just the cat to do it. How else is Chase ever going to succeed in this town?”

“You never had any qualms about helping Odelia before,” I pointed out.

“That was before.” She gazed at Brutus lovingly. “Before Brutus arrived.”

“Look, Chase is the one with the unfair advantage,” I said. “He’s the cop.”

“Yeah, it’s Odelia who needs all the help she can get,” Dooley said.

“Odelia is not a cop,” Brutus said. “So she shouldn’t even be involved.”

Again with his narrow-mindedness, I thought, and returned my attention to the conversation inside. It was almost as if Brutus was simply trying to distract us.“Don’t listen to him, Dooley,” I said. “Just ignore them both.”

“Look,” Chase was saying, “we know you were fed up with the constant stream of escorts, night after night. You wanted Johnny all for yourself, but you couldn’t have him. So you worried that very soon Johnny would pick one of the newer, younger models over you, and kick you to the curb and that would be the end of the line for you. At forty-three you’re too old for the boy toy business, and you don’t have any other marketable skills to sell. So you decided that if you were ever going to cash in it had to be now, before you were pushed out. So you killed Johnny, knowing you’d be set for life.”

Jasper was shaking his head throughout.“I would never hurt Johnny. I loved him!”

“We talked to his lawyer,” said Chief Alec. “He confirmed that Johnny made sure that even after he died you would be taken care of. He left you the house and enough money to live out your life in luxury, enjoying the kind of lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to.”

“I don’t care about all of that!” Jasper cried wildly. “All I cared about was Johnny!” His face took on a pleading expression. “I’m not a murderer, Chief. I would never do that.”

“So why are your fingerprints on the vial?” asked Chase. “Explain that.”

“I can’t. But I never touched that vial, I swear. I hated those drugs. But Johnny was addicted to them. Night after night he needed his fix.”

“And you got into a huge fight about it last night,” said the Chief.

“And not for the first time, either,” added Chase.

“Of course I fought Johnny on that. I could see what that stuff was doing to him. How it was turning him into a shadow of the man he used to be. His career floundered. He hadn’t written a note of music in years, and couldn’t even carry a tune anymore. He’d completely lost the command of hisvoice. That angelic voice of his had been reduced to a hoarse whisper.”

Chase exchanged a grim-faced look with the Chief.“You saw the destruction and you knew it was only a matter of time before he overdosed, so you decided to speed things up before he took in another lover.”

“Why would I do that? I loved Johnny! I wanted him alive and well and making music again! The last thing I wanted was for him to overdose or to die from taking that horrible stuff.” Then something seemed to dawn on him. “Wait, are you telling me he didn’t die from an overdose?”

“He was poisoned,” the Chief confirmed. “Some exotic kind of venom administered in the vial containing GHB. Which had your fingerprints on it.”

“So how did you do it?” asked Chase. “Where did you get the venom?”

“I told you, I didn’t do it,” said Jasper, rattling his cuffs helplessly.

“Then who did?” asked the Chief.

Jasper stared up at him.“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Dooley and I both pricked up our ears, and so did Brutus and Harriet.

Jasper leaned in.“One of the boys kept coming back. He’d quickly become one of Johnny’s favorites. And obviously had high hopes to replace me in Johnny’s heart. But Johnny didn’t care about him. All he wanted from him was the physical satisfaction he could provide and then send him on his way. The guy obviously didn’t like this. He wanted more. He wanted it all.”

“Who was he?” asked the Chief.

“His name is Chico Fetcher. He was with Johnny last night. After all the other boys had left, he was still with him.” He shook his head. “He’s crazy. He would get high on G but it would have the worst possible effect on him. Made him go nuts. He once jumped from the roof straight into the pool. I’m sure that if anyone killed Johnny it must have been him.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “I tried to warn Johnny so many times. Even last night. I told him he should stop welcoming these people into our home, but he got mad.”

“And kicked you out.”

“No, never,” said Jasper angrily. “I left, because I couldn’t stand seeing Johnny destroy himself. Or be destroyed. And now it’s too late. He’s dead.”

“This Chico…” said the Chief, checking his notebook.

“He’s the guy who jumped out of the window,” Chase said. “Probably thought he could fly.”

“Did we bring him in for questioning?”

“We did. He’s next door.”

Chase rose and pointed an accusatory finger at Jasper.“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, Jasper.”

He gave him a pained look.“I know it doesn’t. I’m in hell now.”

Chapter 6

After Odelia had dropped off Max and Dooley, she decided to go and have a little chat with her dad. Her uncle had already messaged her the coroner’s preliminary report: John Paul George had been killed by a vial of GHB that was poisoned. That, in conjunction with a preexisting heart condition, had caused his ticker to throw in the towel. Uncle Alec and Chase thought Jasper Pruce was the obvious suspect, but she decided to follow a different lead.

If a vial of Liquid G had killed Johnny, she was going to find out where that vial had come from, and who had tampered with it. Only one vial had been spiked with venom, and it was the only one that had carried a pink seal with a tiny unicorn. Johnny’s seal. So the killer must have known about this.

There were no puncture marks found on the seal, so the venom hadn’t been injected into the vial. Which meant it had been added before being sealed. And who else could have done that other than Johnny’s dealer?

She parked her Ford pickup in front of the doctor’s office and went inside. As usual, her grandmother was at the reception desk, a few patients patiently waiting until Odelia’s dad, who was the town doctor, was ready.

“I need to speak to Dad,” she told Gran. “It’s urgent.”

Gran, a wizened old lady, seemed annoyed Odelia had interrupted her game of online Scrabble.“What’s this about?”

“There’s been a murder,” she told her. “John Paul George was found murdered in his pool this morning.” She didn’t mention she’d found him there, as she didn’t want to make the old lady worry too much.

“The singer?” asked Gran. “Ooh, I liked him. He was a regular hottie.”

Odelia’s mind flashed back to the spreading man they’d dragged from the pool, and decided to skip this little bit of information too. No need to spoil Gran’s memory of the eighties heartthrob. “Yeah, he was, wasn’t he?”

“And you’re telling me he was murdered? That’s just awful! Who could have done such a horrible thing?”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“And you think your dad knows who did it, huh?”

“I doubt it, but he might lead me in the right direction.” She didn’t want to put all of her cards on the table, as Gran was an inveterate gossip.

“Is that nice Detective Chase Kingsley on the case again?”

“Yes, he is.”

For some reason Gran had taken a shine to Chase.

“That man is so hot, I can’t believe no one has bagged him yet,” she said, shooting her a meaningful look.

“Why don’t you give it a shot?”

“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder, honey,” said Gran. “I know that man has got the hots for you. So why haven’t you made a move on him yet?”

She rolled her eyes. She was so not having this conversation right now.“I’m sure that Detective Kingsley doesn’t even like me, Gran, much less wants to pursue me.”

“Pursue you? What is this? A Jane Austin novel? I may be old, honey, but I’m not that old. Nowadays girls can pursue boys, you know. Trust me, if I’d waited for your grandfather to ‘pursue me’ I’d still be waiting. No, you go and get that man before someone else snaps him up.” She gave her a wink. “Or beforeI snap him up, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean, Gran. It’s pretty obvious.” And distasteful. “Look, both Detective Kingsley and I are professionals, and we like to keep our relationship on a strictly professional level. We work together occasionally and getting… involved would only make things complicated.”

Even though Chase still resented a reporter butting in on his investigation, they’d actually cracked a case together a couple of weeks ago, and even this morning, when she’d saved him from that cockatoo, there had been a sense of kinship between them. Strictly professional kinship, that was.

Gran shook her head.“Youth is definitely wasted on the young, take it from me. If I were you—”

“Well, you’re not. Now if you could just tell Dad I’m here…”

“I’m giving you dibs on that hottie, but I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer, you hear?” asked Gran while she picked up the phone. “And I’m only giving you first shot because you’re family.”

“Thanks, Gran. That’s very generous of you.”

“And don’t you give me that professional relationship bull, either. I know you’ve got the hots for that guy. I’ve seen the way you look at him. I may be old but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight.”

“Just… give me Dad,” she said through gritted teeth, and snatched the phone from her grandmother’s hands. “Yes, hi, Dad. I need to ask you something real quick. Can I come in?”

And as she went in, Gran gave her a wink.“When you see him, say hi to Chase from me, will you? Just to make sure he knows I’m still in the running, in case you drop out of the race.”

“Sure, Gran. I’ll tell him my grandmother is lusting after him.”

“And tell him to keep up the workouts. I like my buns nice and tight.”

She entered her dad’s office and nodded a greeting to Mrs. Baumgartner. The old lady was in all the time, more out of habit than because something was ailing her. Her father quickly took her into the next examination room. “Make it quick, honey,” he said, taking off his glasses and polishing them. “Mrs. Baumgartner was just about to show me her bunion.”

In a few words she told him what had happened to Johnny.

He shook his head.“I warned him about this. Overdose, huh?”

“No, it looks like he was poisoned. At least according to the coroner.”

Her dad’s eyes widened. “Murder? That’s terrible. He was such a great guy. Very down to earth and with a great sense of humor, too.”

“So you knew him?”

“Well, he had his regular physician, a concierge doctor working out of Southampton, but I sometimes covered for him when he was on vacation. I know his boyfriend a lot better, of course. Jasper used to be my patient for years, before he started to go to Johnny’s physician. Great kid, Jasper.”

“Uncle Alec actually thinks Jasper might have done it. His fingerprints were on the vial of GHB that Johnny took. The one containing the venom.”

“Impossible,” said her dad, shaking his head decidedly. “Jasper wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, he loved that man dearly. They were a lovely couple.”

It cemented her decision to look beyond Jasper and try to find who else might have had access to the vial and might have doctored it.“Dad, this is important. Do you have any idea who Johnny’s supplier of GHB was?”

Dad gave her a look of surprise.“How on earth would I know that? I’m a doctor, not a drug dealer, honey.”

“No, but you’re…” She hesitated, gesturing at the medicine cabinet in a corner of the room. “Plugged in.”

He laughed.“I see. You think we’re all in the same business, huh?”

“Well… I just thought you might have heard something.”

He thought for a moment.“There have been a lot of rumors swirling around about that health food store that opened at the mall a couple of months ago. People talk, you know, and I’ve been told by several of my patients that the owner of that store supplies his customers with more than just herbs and vitamins, if you catch my drift. In fact I think I saw his van pull up at Johnny’s place just when I was leaving last month. Coincidence?”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

“So sad about Johnny,” he said as they walked back into his office. “He was a very sweet man. You find out who did this, all right?”

“I will, Dad,” she said.

“Oh, and be careful,” he said. “This drug thing is a nasty business.”

That was true enough. It had already claimed the life of one man and had landed another man in jail, possibly innocent. A very nasty business indeed.

Chapter 7

After sitting in on a few interviews, Dooley and I’d had enough, so we hopped down from the windowsill and made to leave. Brutus, who had been an attentive guest throughout, along with Harriet, seemed to find our retreat funny, for he scoffed, “Leaving already, boys? Talk about lack of stamina!”

“We know when we’ve seen it all,” I said.

“Well, I’m sticking around,” he announced. “It’s only starting to get good.” And he returned his attention to the room behind the window, where Chase was interviewing one of what seemed like hundreds of escorts Johnny had gone through in the weeks leading up to his death. You could say whatever you wanted about the guy, but not that he didn’t have the stamina Brutus was referring to. In spite of his age, he’d been up all night every night, partying like there was no tomorrow and entertaining up to a dozen men.

“I wonder how much of his behavior was Johnny and how much the drugs he took,” I said as we started toward the patch of lawn in front of the police station. An American flag waved over a small plaque reminding Hampton Cove that here resided the long arm of the law. Though Uncle Alec’s arms weren’t really all that long, he was doing a great job interviewing a long line of witnesses testifying to Johnny’s daily and nightly habits. It was obvious that the so-called recluse hadn’t been all that reclusive after all.

“I think it was the drugs,” said Dooley. “No man can be that voracious and that…” He struggled to find the right word.

“Enduring?” I supplied.

“Yeah. It’s almost a miracle how enduring the guy was.”

“I think the right word is addicted. The guy was simply addicted to sex.”

“Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Talk about a walking clich?.”

We padded along the sidewalk, wondering where to go from there. Chief Alec and Chase had interviewed dozens of young men and the picture of Johnny that emerged was clear: each day he’d call the agency to send him a selection of boys, all sharing the same traits. They had to be young, handsome and buff. The agency would make a selection and send over a dozen candidates. The first part of the evening would consist of Johnny entertaining them with his old video clips displayed on a big screen, and there would be lots of drinking and eating going on. As a dessert, drugs would be passed around like candy. They’d smoke pot, get high on coke and G, and things would heat up considerably. By the time midnight rolled around, the scene would look like something straight out of Caligula. The long version.

At some point Johnny would pick the boy whose exploits had impressed him the most, and invite him up to his room to spend the night. Throughout these wild parties there would be no trace of Jasper, either because he’d refuse to leave his private quarters—apparently Johnny and Jasper occupied separate wings—or he’d have stormed off after yet another row with Johnny.

Chico Fletcher, boy toy of the month, hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary last night. But then he’d been pretty high on illegal substances. He also didn’t have a motive to harm Johnny, especially seeing as he’d been hoping to replace Jasper as Johnny’s new queen. You can’t become queen of a dead man, so Chico was very disappointed with the way things had turned out. All he had to show for his efforts were the exorbitant fees he’d been paid.

So far the only one with an obvious motive was still Jasper, who remained firmly in the picture as the most likely suspect in the murder.

“So who do you think did it?” I asked Dooley.

“The butler, of course,” said Dooley, then laughed loudly at his own joke.

“Hey, you guys!” suddenly a voice sounded behind us. “Wait up!”

She sounded a lite out of breath, as if she’d been running, and when we both turned in surprise, we saw we’d been joined by none other than Harriet.

I checked around, but could see no trace of Brutus.“Where’s your boyfriend?” I asked.

She made a gesture with her tail.“Still glued to the police station window.” She rolled her eyes. “If I have to listen to one more boy toy talking about how hot and sexy John Paul George was I’m going to be sick.”

We walked along the pavement together, and Dooley asked,“So how’s Brutus’s investigation going?”

“Very well, thank you, Dooley. I think Brutus has a definite lead on the killer, and it won’t be long before he shares his observations with Chase.”

I gave her a sideways glance.“You do know that Brutus can’t talk to his owner, right?”

“Of course I know, silly,” she said. “But he’s promised me he’ll fix that.”

“By using sign language?” I asked. “No, seriously though. How does he hope to find the killer and help the investigation? He’s a policeman’s cat, not a police cat. There’s a difference.”

That was the rub right there: just because you were the cat of a policeman that didn’t magically transfer the man’s sleuthing powers to you. Dooley and I had been doing this with Odelia for a very long time, so we knew how to proceed. Brutus was a complete newbie at this sleuthing business, though, and I’m sure that Harriet knew this but was too proud to admit it.

“Hey, I know what you’re doing,” said Dooley now.

“I’m walking along the street with my friends, that’s what I’m doing,” said Harriet.

“No, you’re not. You’re spying on us. Brutus doesn’t know which way to turn so he instructed you to spy on us and hope to find out what we know.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” she said primly. “You know as well as I do that all I want is for us to be friends, just like in the old days.”

“Only that will never happen if you keep hanging out with Brutus,” I said.

“Oh, God, you’re being melodramatic again, you two,” said Harriet. “Can’t you simply accept that Brutus is part of the gang now?”

“Never,” I said adamantly.

“No way,” Dooley agreed.

“You guys,” she said, sounding exasperated, “Brutus is a really nice cat, once you get to know him. In fact he’s just great. He’s strong and generous and sweet and caring… He’s a great friend. He really is.”

“A friend who likes to tell us what to do, where to go, who we can and cannot meet? That doesn’t sound like a nice cat to me. More like a despot.”

“Brutus is simply set in his ways,” Harriet argued. “I’m sure that if you give him time, he’ll come around to the way we do things around here. You have to remember he’s a big city cat, and they do things different over there.”

“Oh, I’ll say they do,” said Dooley.

We walked on in silence for a moment. Even in spite of Harriet’s recent betrayal, it still felt good to be just the three of us again, just like old times, and I could sense that Dooley, too, was secretly glad that Harriet was trying to be our friend again. This whole Brutus business had hit him hard.

“So what do we do now?” asked Harriet. “What’s our next move?”

Dooley’s eyebrows rose at her use of the term ‘we’. “We were just going over to the general store, to see what the word on the street is,” he said.

“Yeah, we wanted to pick Kingman’s brain. See what he has to say.”

Kingman was the cat of Wilbur Vickery, owner of Vickery General Store on Main Street, and a great source of information on what was happening in this town and what people were talking about. Along with the barbershop and the doctor’s office, the store was among our favorite places to hang out.

Kingman slept all day on Wilbur’s counter, and even though it looked like he was out of it, he was actually acutely aware of everything that went on around him, which made him such a great source of information.

“Good idea,” said Harriet cheerfully. “Let’s go talk to Kingman.”

I had my qualms about Harriet being an agent for the enemy, like Dooley had said, but decided to let her tag along anyway. It would have been sad to have to send her away, especially as she’d been our friend for as long as the three of us had been alive on this planet. I guess I was just being sentimental.

Chapter 8

We arrived at the general store, and walked straight in through the open door. As usual, Kingman was asleep on his high perch on the counter, while Wilbur was busily ringing up his customers.

“Psst, hey, Kingman,” I said.

The spreading piebald opened one lazy eye and stared down at us, then acknowledged our presence by grunting,“Meet me outside in five.”

We did as we were told and trooped out again, staking out a spot next to the display table full of fruits and vegetables. Five minutes later, Kingman came trotting out.“Wilbur doesn’t like it when the place is full of cats,” he said, quite surprisingly.

“Why?” I asked. “He’s never had a problem with cats before.”

“There’s been a spate of thefts lately,” said Kingman, “and he suspects cats are involved. I’ve been trying to catch them but they’re pretty sneaky.”

“Well, we would never steal anything,” said Dooley.

“You stole an entire bowl of p?t? this morning,” I reminded him.

“That was different.”

“How was that different? You cleaned out Princess’s bowl. I saw you.”

“Princess? Who’s Princess?” asked Harriet.

“Just some cat,” said Dooley vaguely.

“John Paul George’s cat.”

“And you cleaned out her bowl?” asked Harriet.

“We were guests,” said Dooley. “Guests are allowed to eat a host’s food.”

“Not when you’re not invited, you’re not,” I said.

“We were invited.”

“How were we invited? The host was dead. You can’t be invited by a dead host.”

Dooley rolled his eyes.“Oh, please. You ate from all the bowls.”

I shrugged.“I was hungry. If I don’t eat I get cranky.”

“All right, all right, all right,” said Kingman now. “Settle down, you guys. It’s not stealing if the food’s out there in the open, all right?”

“See?” asked Dooley. “I wasn’t stealing. I was just sampling.”

“An entire bowl?” I asked. “That’s not sampling. That’s gobbling.”

“Who’s Princess?” Harriet asked again. “Have I met her?”

“No, you haven’t,” I said. “She’s one of Johnny’s dozen cats.”

Harriet gave Dooley a curious look.“So why did you eat her food?”

“It was p?t?, all right?” cried Dooley. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Actual p?t??” asked Kingman, interested.

“Yeah, the expensive kind,” Dooley said. “To die for, I swear.”

“It was pretty good,” I conceded.

“Pretty good? It was the best food I’ve ever tasted.”

“So what does this Princess look like?” asked Harriet.

“Can we just talk about the dead guy now?” I asked. I was already regretting having started this whole thing about the p?t?. If you’re going to accuse someone of stealing, you better make sure you haven’t stolen the stuff yourself, I now discovered. It kinda destroys your moral superiority.

“Yeah, what about that, huh?” asked Kingman with a shake of the head. “A regular murder in Hampton Cove. What’s the world coming to?”

“So you heard about that?” asked Dooley. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Kingman always knew everything that was going on in this town.

“The mayor’s wife came in early this morning to buy plums to make plum pie, and she’d heard it from her husband who’d heard it from the Chief that the body of John Paul George was found floating face down in his pool.”

“News sure travels fast,” said Harriet, still studying Dooley.

“It sure does,” said Kingman with a grin. Like most cats in Hampton Cove he had a thing for Harriet, who was pretty much the prettiest cat for miles around. Except for Princess, maybe, which was probably why Harriet was so curious to find out more about her. Keep an eye on the competition.

“Any idea who did it?” asked Dooley.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were out there, weren’t you? One of Johnny’s cats strolled by here before. Said you were all over their place.”

“We only know what we saw,” said Dooley. “JPG in the pool. Poisoned.”

I gave him a warning look. Even though the story about Johnny’s death by poisoning would spread through town fast, there was no need to help it along. At least not until Odelia had written her article and got the scoop.

“Poisoned, huh?” asked Kingman, his furry face puckering up in surprise. “Now there’s something I didn’t know. Are you sure about this?”

Dooley stared at me and I shook my head.“Nah,” he said. “We, um…”

“It’s just a rumor that’s going around,” said Harriet, coming to his aid.

“And who do they think did it?” asked Kingman now.

“They’re interviewing all the guys Johnny entertained last night,” I said, “but so far it looks like the boyfriend is the most likely suspect. Jasper Pruce.” I wasn’t giving away any big secrets, as Jasper had been arrested.

“Who would have thought?” asked Kingman, whistling through his teeth.

Yes, cats can whistle, but we rarely do it, on account of the fact that it looks silly, and if there’s anything we hate as much as we hate dogs, it’s looking silly in front of other cats. We like to play it cool. Where else do you think the expression ‘cool cat’ comes from?

“So the boyfriend did it, huh?” asked Kingman now.

“Personally I think he’s innocent,” said Harriet. “He sounded extremely sincere when he said he loved Johnny and would never hurt him. And he doesn’t look like a killer at all. More like a sad little kitten.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Dooley. “And so can people’s words. They say one thing to your face and do something else behind your back.”

Harriet lifted her chin.“Well, I for one believed him. Jasper Pruce is simply incapable of murdering the person he loved. Love is like that, you know. It makes one care about the other, in spite of their obvious flaws.”

“Ah! So you admit there are flaws,” said Dooley.

“No one is without flaws,” said Harriet philosophically.

Well, that was true enough, but was Jasper flawed enough to have murdered his boyfriend? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t as gullible as Harriet to let a few tears and vows of never-ending love sway me. As far as I knew, he was the killer, even if Harriet chose to believe he was innocent.

“I think the boyfriend did it,” said Kingman, giving his opinion even though nobody had asked him. “Just think about it. Isn’t it always the husband or the wife that did it? So why not the boyfriend? Especially as there’s big money involved this time.”

“You just might be right,” I said. “What do the people in town think?”

“Most of them seem to agree that Jasper did it. Just so he could get his hands on the money, and make sure he wasn’t replaced by a younger model before he did. That endless parade of pretty young boys must have rubbed him the wrong way,” said Kingman, and that seemed to be the consensus.

“I think it’s sad,” said Harriet.

“What’s sad?” asked Kingman. “That Jasper killed him for his money?”

“That people have so little faith in the words of a man who was in love, and remained by Johnny’s side in this, the aging pop star’s twilight years.”

“Johnny wasn’t that old,” Kingman said.

“You know what I mean. It’s obvious that Jasper loved Johnny very much, to stay with him and have to watch how he threw his life away.” She sighed. “But then that’s true love for you. You simply stick together through the good and the bad, in sickness and in health, until death do you part.” She wiped away a tear. “I think it’s all so very, very romantic. And so very sad.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dooley, holding up his paw. “I think I’ve heard enough. You love Brutus and he loves you and there’s nothing we can do.”

“Nice rhyming skills, bro,” said Kingman.

“I was talking about you, you fool,” Harriet suddenly burst out, giving Dooley a thump on the shoulder. “You don’t desert a friend just because they happen to fall in love. Real friends stick together, through thick and thin.”

At this, she promptly turned around and stalked off, her nose in the air, leaving both Dooley and I stunned on the sidewalk. Kingman, though, laughed loudly.“Trouble in paradise, boys? What was all that about?”

I decided not to elaborate, as otherwise the story of this outburst would soon travel the entire town. Not that there was a lot we could do to stop that. Kingman would make sure that everyone knew that Dooley, Harriet and I had had a very public falling-out. And all because of that brute Brutus.

“What was Harriet talking about?” asked Dooley after we’d said goodbye to Kingman, promising to keep him in the loop.

“I have absolutely no idea,” I said, though perhaps this breaking up of the band had hit Harriet more than she let on. Being forced to choose between your best friends and your boyfriend must be a tough proposition, and it was obvious that Harriet wasn’t taking it well.

“Maybe we should make friends with Brutus,” Dooley said now.

“Never,” I told him adamantly. “That cat is the worst thing that has ever happened to this town, and we can’t let him think he’s defeated us.”

“But why can’t we simply try to get along?” asked Dooley.

I knew that the only reason he wanted to extend the olive branch was so he could get Harriet back into our lives.

I stopped mid-stride.“Look, Brutus is the enemy of everything we hold dear. If we let him, he will turn Hampton Cove into a prison camp.”

“I think you’re exaggerating, Max. I think deep down he’s not such a bad cat. He’s just… socially awkward.”

This was just too much.“You mean like Hitler was socially awkward? Or Stalin? That cat is the enemy, Dooley, and don’t you forget it!”

Dooley stared at me.“But I miss her, Max. I miss having Harriet around.”

“Well, that’s her choice. If she wants to hang with that cat and not with us, tough luck.”

“Tough luck for me,” said Dooley moodily.

“Look, I don’t like this situation either,” I told him. “I like Harriet and I miss her. But if we don’t stand firm on this, it’s the end of life as we know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

It was obvious he was weakening. In the fight against the enemy, the enemy was winning crucial points. If even my best friend was already thinking about throwing in the towel, things were looking very glum indeed. I gave Dooley a gentle tap on the shoulder.“Hey. Don’t look so glum, chum.”

“I look glum because I feel glum,” he said glumly.

“Look, we’ll solve this murder and show Brutus he’s not the boss of us. Maybe then he’ll admit he was wrong to try and bully us into submission.”

“You think so?” Dooley asked, looking a little less glum.

“Of course. It works both ways. Harriet might be sent by Brutus to convince us to play ball, but two can play that game. We can use our influence on Harriet to convince Brutus he’s the one that should change.”

“I like that,” said Dooley softly.

I liked it, too. Though I doubted very much if Brutus was the kind of cat that could be persuaded to change his tune. Some cats simply never change.

Chapter 9

Odelia parked her aged, old pickup in front of the health food store. She’d been there a couple of times. Though she wasn’t big on health food solutions, she had been taking her daily vitamins lately, hoping they would give her the advertised energy boost. Her mom was the bigger fan, and Gran, too. Every time Odelia was over at her parents’ place she saw how her mom and grandma popped the herbal capsules by the dozen, probably hoping to extend their lifespan or to cure some disease they hadn’t yet contracted.

She entered the store and for a moment spent some time perusing the displays and the shelves stocked full. From fat reducing pills to stuff guaranteed to boost the immune system, she was sure her mom had tried them all. She picked up a box of capsules that promised to add extra Omega-3 fatty acids to her diet and reduce joint pain, and walked up to the counter at the back of the store. A man with a hipster beard and horn-rimmed glasses greeted her with a jovial smile.“Found something, hon?”

“I, um…” She wondered how to launch into a line of questioning that would lead the man to confess he was JPG’s drug supplier, and placed the box on the counter. “I found these,” she said with a fake grin. How easy it would be if she could just get Uncle Alec to let her flash a fake police badge. People answered all kinds of questions when they thought you were a cop.

“If you buy a second item today it’s fifty percent off,” said the guy.

“Actually I was wondering if you have something a little stronger?”

He eyed her over his glasses for a moment.“Stronger than Omega-3? What about the Omega-3-6-9 complex? More bang for your buck.”

She quickly checked left and right, making a display of trying to be discreet. Inadvertently the man moved a little closer.“I’m having a hard time relaxing at night,” she said. “And it’s taken a toll on my…” She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “On my love life,” she finally whispered.

A smile now spread across the man’s face, although it was hard to see through that bushy beard. “You need something to boost your love life?”

“Yeah, something really powerful,” she said. “Something… awesome.”

He nodded.“I’ve got exactly what you need right here.” He rummaged around beneath the counter for a moment, and Odelia’s heart skipped a beat.

Now she was getting somewhere. But instead of vials of GHB, he carefully placed a small box on the counter. She leaned in and saw that it said,‘Firm Up Your Sex Life with Ginseng—Bedroom Miracle Cure.’

“How about that, huh?” the salesman asked. “That should hit the spot.”

“I…” She gestured at the ginseng. “Is that the best you can do? I mean,” she corrected herself, “Is that the most potent stuff in the store?”

“Sure is, hon. And all yours for nineteen-ninety-nine. Real bargain. Before you know it, you and your boyfriend will be humping like rabbits.” When she glared at him, he quickly corrected, “Or you and your girlfriend?”

She probably shouldn’t have mentioned her nonexistent love life, but that didn’t give this guy the right to become personal. “Look, buster,” she said, running out of patience with this oversized bearded hobbit, “I know for a fact that you sell Liquid G out of this shop and don’t you dare deny it.”

At this, his perfectly groomed rectangular beard waggled.“Liquid G? I think you’re mistaking me for someone else, honey. This is a health food store. I strictly deal in health food solutions, not drugs.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” suddenly a gruff voice sounded behind Odelia.

She didn’t even have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. “Why is that wherever I go you keep showing up, Detective Kingsley?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss Poole,” he returned, then flashed his badge to the man behind the counter, who was still clutching the ginseng. “Please tell me you can do better than that,” he said, gesturing at the ginseng.

The man looked horrified.“You’re both cops?”

“No, Miss Poole is a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette. I’m with the Hampton Cove PD, Mr. Haggis. She likes to think she’s a cop, though.”

“I was doing great before you showed up,” she snapped.

“Yeah, you were doing fantastic. So you’re having issues with your love life, huh?”

“You heard that?” she asked, that blush creeping further up her cheeks.

“Even if I hadn’t wanted to, it was unavoidable. Your voice carries.”

“I was trying to be discreet,” she said, giving him her best scowl.

“And failing miserably, as usual.” He turned to the shopkeeper. “Mr. Orville Haggis, I presume? Owner and proprietor of The Vitamin King?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The question still stands, Orville. Were you selling GHB to JPG?”

The man’s mouth opened, then closed again, causing his beard to move as if operating on a hinge. Finally, he admitted, “Yes, I was.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how much ginseng you have to sell to make a living around here. So I have to supplement my income by shifting some of the more pricey items on the side. Johnny kept me in business.”

“Now we’re talking,” said Chase, with a quick glance at Odelia.

“I notice you’re referring to Johnny in the past tense, Mr. Haggis,” she said. “So you’re aware that he died last night?”

“I heard about that, yeah,” said Orville. “But I swear I had nothing to do with that.”

“I beg to differ,” said Chase. “I think you had everything to do with that. You see, it was your product that killed Johnny.”

“That’s impossible,” said Orville. “I always gave him the right dose. Johnny knew the deal. One vial and that’s it. He knew the risks, so if he took more than one, that’s not my fault.”

“What is your fault is that you were delivering an illegal substance to a very unstable pop star,” said Chase.

“Johnny wasn’t unstable. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Did you always deliver your vials with a seal?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, I did. The ones I prepared for Johnny carried his personal seal.”

She smiled.“Pink with a unicorn, right?”

“That’s right,” he said. “That’s the way he wanted it.”

“Any way the vials could have been tampered with?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought he died from an overdose.”

“Someone laced Johnny’s GHB with a very potent venom,” she said. “Which caused his heart to fail. Any idea what venom was used?” she asked Chase.

He stared at her, then rolled his eyes.“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but since you’re going to simply turn around and ask your uncle I might as well. The venom found belongs to the Australian funnel-web spider.”

She stared at him.“Spider venom?”

“Not just any spider. Apparently it’s the most lethal spider in the world. The weird thing? The venom is deadly only if injected directly into the bloodstream. When imbibed, its proteins are broken down by stomach acid, and the effect is greatly diminished. The only reason the venom was toxic in this case, is because Johnny was suffering from an enlarged heart, possibly caused by years of drug abuse.”

“So whoever administered the venom…”

“Was a rank amateur,” said Chase.

They both turned to Orville.“So it looks like you decided to off your best customer, Orville,” Chase said. “Now all I want to know is where you got the venom.”

“Spider venom? Are you crazy? I don’t even—why would I kill my best customer?”

“If you didn’t put that venom in that vial, who did?” asked Odelia.

“How should I know? I delivered the stuff to Johnny once a week. Enough vials for his guests, and the special batch I mixed up for him distinguished by the pink seal so nobody could tamper with it.”

“And you’re sure nobody could have had access to the vials? Someone who knew about this arrangement between you and Johnny?” she asked.

“Positive. I’m a one man operation and I personally prepared Johnny’s happy juice, as he liked to call it. Between this place and Johnny’s house, nobody messed with those vials. If they were tampered with, it must have been by someone at Johnny’s end. Someone who knew about the pink seal.”

“How easy is it to reseal those vials?” asked Odelia.

“Very easy. It’s basically just a small sticker I put on top. Anybody could have peeled it off, dumped in that spider venom, and resealed it. Didn’t you find any fingerprints on the vial?”

“We did,” said Chase, darting a knowing look at Odelia. “Looks like we got the right man in jail after all.” Then he turned back to the health food guy, plucking a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Orville Haggis, you’re under arrest for the illegal distribution—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Orville decided to skedaddle.

“Hey!” Chase yelled as the guy swung around and disappeared through a door behind him. “Hell,” the cop grunted, and vaulted the counter. “You wait here, Poole.”

But Odelia had a better idea. She quickly raced through the store and slammed through the front door. As she did, she saw Orville straddling a red Ducati and, as she watched, kicked it to life and raced off. She ran to her pickup and hopped in. After a few coughs, the engine roared to life, and she backed the car up on screeching tires. Just then, Chase came bolting full-speed through the small alley dividing The Vitamin King from the Chinese restaurant next door. She pushed open the passenger door.“Hop in!”

And then she was stomping down on the accelerator, tires squealing and spraying the front of The Vitamin King with gravel. Finally finding purchase, the truck lurched forward and they were off at a healthy clip in pursuit of the hipster drug dealer. The pickup bumped into a depression in the asphalt at the edge of the parking lot and then swung onto the main road, merging into traffic with smoking tires.

“Please tell me you learned how to drive since the last time I rode with you,” Chase said, sounding a little winded.

“Please tell me that that short chase didn’t knock the wind out of you.”

“I haven’t found a decent fitness club in town yet,” he grumbled. “It’s been weeks since my last training session and I’m starting to feel the strain.”

“There’s a great club at that strip mall we just left,” she said. “I used to go there all the time.”

“So what made you stop?”

“Between work at the Gazette and the club suddenly jacking up its prices I decided I needed to buy myself an elliptical trainer and work out at home.”

“And how do you like the machine? I might get one myself.”

She gave him a rueful look.“Actually I haven’t gotten round to buying one yet. But I will!” she quickly added when he laughed and shook his head.

Orville was setting a nice pace, and she had to focus when they reached the heart of town. Between pedestrians and traffic she had to be careful not to hit anyone, while Orville didn’t have a large pickup to navigate and could easily slip through on his more flexible two-wheeler.

“Maybe I should buy a bike instead of a home trainer,” she said, cursing under her breath when she had to stop for two women crossing with strollers.

“So why don’t you?”

“Three cats,” she said. “They wouldn’t like it if I traded in my old Ford.”

“You take those cats everywhere?”

“Hey, I’m the cat lady, remember?”

“I said that one time,” he grumbled.

She smiled.“I’m like an elephant. I never forget a thing.”

“You don’t look like an elephant.” She blushed, and immediately he held up his hands. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“No, I take it you meant that as a compliment?”

“Yes, I did mean it as a compliment.”

She gave him a quick sideways glance. The way he was sitting there, with his muscular frame stretching his shirt, his long legs clad in jeans, he looked more than fine. In fact he looked downright sexy. A hottie, Gran would say. But what was up with the compliments? That was definitely a first. Then she decided to focus on the mission at hand: capturing a known drug dealer. She could think about Chase Kingsley all she wanted when this was over.

Finally, they’d reached the road leading out of town, and she slammed down the accelerator, causing Chase to be knocked back against his seat.

“Christ, be careful, will you? I don’t want to die in the line of duty yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, gritting her teeth as she kept her eyes focused on the small dot in the distance that was Orville Haggis. “I’m a great driver.”

“If you manage to keep us aliveand catch the bad guy, I’ll believe you.”

They were on a straight strip of road now, and she ratcheted up the engine to the sticking point, going as fast as she dared to take it, and still they weren’t gaining on the Ducati. But at least they weren’t falling behind either.

“I better call the Chief,” said Chase. “Maybe he can set up a roadblock.”

“Don’t call him yet,” she said. “I’m going to catch Mr. Ginseng.”

“Are you always so eager to catch your guy?”

“Sure. If you come into my town dealing drugs, I’m going to hunt you down.” She glanced over. “We’re big on civic duty in Hampton Cove.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said. “And while I think that’s admirable, you might want to leave the heroics to the trained professionals.”

She smiled.“Like the trained professional who couldn’t catch a hipster drug dealer?” To add emphasis to her words, she punched her foot down all the way to the floor of the car. The engine responded with a roaring whine, as if asking her to cut it out already.

“Uh-oh,” said Chase. “This old thing is gonna blow.”

They were finally gaining on the bearded ginseng huckster, and she now overtook him. Chase stared at Orville and Orville stared back, seemingly surprised that his great escape had been thwarted by this duo in a beat-up old Ford pickup.

Chase rolled down the window and shouted,“Pull over!”

“No way, cop!” yelled Orville.

This decided Odelia. She had no time to be chasing drug dealers while she had a murder to solve back in Hampton Cove and about a dozen articles to write. So she quickly swung the car to the right, nudging Motorcycle Man.

“Hey!” the guy yelled, but before he could react, he was on the shoulder in a plume of dust and then drove straight into the ditch.

“Oh, God,” said Chase. “Now you’ve gone and killed a suspect.”

“I didn’t kill him,” she said, pulling over. “I just dented him a bit.”

The car came to a stop in a cloud of smoke, and they both got out to check Ginseng Guy. When they finally found him in the ditch, ten feet from his gleaming red Ducati, he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky with a startled expression on his face, as if he didn’t believe how his day had gone.

The moment he caught sight of Odelia floating into his field of vision, he shouted,“You wrecked my favorite bike!”

“You wrecked my favorite pop star,” she returned.

The guy shrugged.“He was always going to wreck himself. If I hadn’t supplied that G, someone else would have.”

“Always the same lame excuse,” Chase grumbled as he outfitted the man with a nice pair of shiny handcuffs and hoisted him to his feet. “You’re under arrest, buddy. And I’m confiscating your bike. What’s left of it, anyway.”

“See?” asked Odelia. “He’s fine. Just a few bruises.” Her eyes dropped to the seat of his pants where now a large hole had appeared and a pair of Minnie Mouse boxers were visible. “And some vestimentary issues.”

“Oh, my God!” cried the guy when he caught sight of his own underwear sticking out. “I can’t be seen like this! I have to think about my rep!”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to think about that in jail,” said Chase, and gave Odelia a wink. “That was some pretty effective driving.”

“Can I quote you on that, Detective?”

He laughed, flashing his dimples. Maybe Gran was right. Maybe she had to snap this guy up before some other bimbo did. Maybe. But not today.

Chapter 10

After Odelia dropped off Chase and Orville at the police station, she drove to the Gazette. While in transit, Orville had intimated he might have an idea who could be responsible for this John Paul George business after all. He said another dealer had been trying to muscle in on his territory and had approached JPG several times trying to hawk his wares. He basically sold the same stuff, only a lot cheaper, and had also approached a couple of Orville’s other regulars—apparently a lot of celebs liked the occasional toke.

This other dealer didn’t operate from a store but sold his stuff from the trunk of his car. Orville had given Chase all the information he had, and the cop had promised he’d be on the lookout for this second dealer.

She parked in front of the Gazette, and for the next couple of hours worked diligently on her stories for tomorrow’s edition. The John Paul George story was obviously the biggest one, but she had a few other smaller articles to finish before deadline. Like the recent Jeanie Fidget wedding, already the fifth attempt at marital bliss for the Oscar-winning actress, and a car crashing into the house of a supermodel, pretty much wrecking the place.

And she was just finishing up an article on the upcoming town hall meeting, when Dan swung by her office.“Hey, kid. How’s it going in here?”

She sat back and smiled up at the aged editor.“Just fine, Dan. I think I’ve got tomorrow’s edition pretty much nailed down.”

“The murder case?”

“Yeah, that’s the big one. Front page, I guess?”

“Damn right. It’s been a while since anyone of JPG’s stature got whacked.”

“I’m guessing someone of JPG’s stature has never been whacked in this town.”

“Ah, but what little do you know, young Padawan. Back in the sixties, when I was just a young whippersnapper myself, Ryland Sundry got whacked in similar fashion. Created a big hullaballoo as you can imagine.”

“Whacked in similar fashion, huh? You mean Ryland Sundry’s vial of GHB got laced with spider venom by his live-in lover and former escort? Because he was jealous a new boy toy had arrived on the scene?”

Dan laughed loudly.“Not exactly! Things were a little different back then, as you can imagine. No GHB and no boy toys. Though we did have escorts, but we didn’t call them that, and they were a lot more discreet about their business as otherwise they would have been arrested for lewd conduct. No, actually Ryland was killed for refusing to marry his housekeeper.”

“Sounds like something out ofThe Bold and the Beautiful.”

“Ryland, famous in the silent film era, had an affair with his housekeeper and got her pregnant. He’d promised to take care of her and the kid but later reneged on his promise when his wife found out about the affair.”

“So the housekeeper killed him?”

“Not exactly. If I recall correctly, it was actually the housekeeper’s kid that did it. His illegitimate daughter. She got so mad her movie star dad abandoned her and her mother that she decided to take matters into her own hands and commit patricide. I seem to remember an icepick featured pretty prominently in the story.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. The prick deserved it, though. Or at least that was the prevailing sentiment at the time. The story dominated the front pages for months, especially after a jury acquitted the girl, and she walked free.”

“Did she ever get her payday?”

“Not a chance. She did write a book, though. A real bestseller.”

“I’ll bet they even turned it into a movie.”

“Just a Lifetime movie, but still,” Dan said with a grin.

“You’re right. This JPG business has echoes of that Ryland Sundry case, only I’m afraid that they’ve got the wrong guy in jail. I mean, why would Jasper kill his boyfriend? It’s pretty obvious he loved JPG. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Jealousy, of course. The guy was way past his boy toy prime, honey.”

“He was only forty-three.”

“Exactly. I think he was afraid he’d outlasted his usefulness. Weren’t he and JPG living in separate wings of that big house of theirs?”

She nodded.“Looks like.”

He spread his arms.“Well, then. I’m sure it was only a matter of time before he was pushed out entirely, making space for a new beau. Guys like JPG aren’t exactly known for their faithfulness. The fact that he never put a ring on Jasper’s finger tells you all you need to know about that relationship.”

“Maybe they had their reasons for not tying the knot?”

“Money being the biggest one,” said Dan. “Mark my words, honey, if Alec thinks Jasper Pruce did it, there’s a very good chance that he did. That uncle of yours is no dummy, and the new guy is no idiot either.”

“We caught a drug dealer together,” she said with a grin.

“Good for you. Just make sure you’re careful out there.”

“Always, Dan. Always.”

Chapter 11

After she had finished writing her articles for the day, she decided to drop by the library to have a chat with her mother. Mom usually had good ideas. And she knew a lot of people through her work at the library. She wasn’t convinced that Uncle Alec had locked up the right guy, and if he thought he had, he wasn’t going to look any further. She felt very strongly he should continue the investigation, but if he wasn’t going to do it, she certainly was.

She walked into the library, and saw that her mother was pushing the book trolley, placing recently returned books back on their shelves.

“Hey, Mom,” she said as she walked up to the woman who was like the spitting image of herself, only three decades older.

“Hey, honey,” said her mother. “I hear you’ve been busy today?”

“Yeah, we had an actual murder case to tackle,” she said as she picked up a book and placed it in its rightful place.

It didn’t surprise her that her mother already knew what had happened. Sometimes she wondered why Dan even bothered to put out the Gazette, as the stories he wrote were old news by the time the paper dropped into people’s mailboxes. Maybe they just wanted to see the pictures that went with the stories, or check up on some detail they might have missed.

“Is it true that the boyfriend did it?” her mother asked now.

“I don’t know. Uncle Alec seems to think so but I have my doubts.”

“Then that makes two of us.”

“It does?” she asked, surprised.

“I’ve met Jasper Pruce,” said her mother, “and he didn’t strike me as a man capable of murder. Such a sweet young man.”

“He’s forty-three.”

“Is he?” asked her mother. “He looks a great deal younger.”

“He probably moisturizes.”

“I’ll bet he does. And not the cheap brands, either.”

“So you met him, huh?”

“We have. He’s in here all the time. He loves his romance novels,” she said with a smile. “He also loves to chat, and he struck me as a very earnest and very nice man. Very concerned about his husband’s health.”

“They weren’t married, Mom.”

“Well, for all intents and purposes they were. Besides, I’m sure they would have gotten married if Johnny hadn’t been married already.”

Odelia frowned.“Married already? What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you know? Johnny married that woman, what’s her name…”

“Johnny was married… to a woman?”

“Sure.” She snapped her fingers. “Bryony Pistol. Used to be his backing vocalist back in the eighties, when he was still carving out a career. They got married at some point and, at least according to Jasper, they still were.”

“But why? Why didn’t he divorce her?”

“Well, he did owe her his career, so maybe that’s why? And they had a daughter together, of course. She must be in her late twenties now.”

“A daughter!”

Mom shook her head.“And you call yourself a reporter. Yeah, Johnny pretty much owed everything to Bryony. She came from money, and supported him in the early days of his career, when he was just a struggling artist. It took him several years to break through and get his first big hit.”

“I’m Your Bi-ba-boy. I loved that song.”

Her mother stared at her dubiously. She might like Jasper, but she was obviously not a fan of Johnny’s music. “Anyway, Bryony paid all the bills and basically squandered her family’s fortune to make it happen for Johnny, simply because she believed in his talent so much.”

“She squandered her own money?”

“All of it.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Lucky for her the gamble paid off. Big time. Johnny became a global superstar. And then he told her he liked boys better than girls so they separated. This was the nineties, I think. I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Because Johnny valued his privacy. I doubt you’ll find this information anywhere. If Jasper hadn’t told me, I would never have known. It was obvious the whole Bryony business didn’t sit well with him, though.”

“Nor would the whole Jasper business have sat well with Bryony.”

Her mother held up her hands.“That, I don’t know. I never met Bryony. She’s not a library person, apparently,” she said with a look of distaste.

For Odelia’s mother, there were only two types of people in the world: people who liked books, and people who didn’t. It was obvious which kind she favored. “I wonder what Bryony thought about this whole drug thing.”

“Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure it’s an angle your uncle Alec hasn’t thought about yet. And it would make for a great article for your paper.”

“You just might be right,” she agreed.

“Of course I’m right.”

“Now about dinner tonight. Don’t be late, because we have a guest over.”

She groaned.“Not Chase Kingsley again?”

“Yes, Chase Kingsley again. I really don’t know what you’ve got against that man.”

“He keeps showing up.”

“Well, that’s because he’s a cop, dear. Cops have a habit of showing up everywhere. They wouldn’t be doing their jobs if they didn’t.”

“But why do you insist on feeding him? I’m sure he can take care of himself.”

“I doubt that. Living with Alec as he does the man would simply starve to death if he didn’t get fed, and so would your uncle himself, for that matter.”

“I’m sure that Alec cooks, and so does Chase.”

“And I’m sure they don’t,” said her mother decidedly. “Now please be punctual. Dinner will be served at seven, and I expect you to be there.” She frowned. “Why do I have the feeling I’m forgetting something?” Then her face cleared. “Oh, that’s right. Can you bake a cake, honey? Your gran was going to, but she forgot she had bingo at the senior center this afternoon.”

“Cake?” she asked. “I don’t have time to bake a cake, Mom. Why don’t you buy one from the general store?”

Her mother’s face puckered up into an expression of distaste. “You know those aren’t freshly baked, honey. They make them in some factory somewhere by mixing a bunch of chemicals and other goop. No, what we need is that chocolate cake of yours. I’m sure Chase will be impressed.”

She glared at her mother.“You’re trying to set me up with Chase again, aren’t you? First Gran, and now you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey,” said her mother primly. “But you could do a lot worse than Chase Kingsley. He’s a nice, big, strapping young man, with a nice, secure income, a good position in this community, and I’m sure he’ll make some girl a very happy bride someday so why not you?”

“His position in this community is pretty rocky right now, and if he doesn’t watch his back he’s going to be out of a job soon, too,” she said.

Mom rolled her eyes.“Still with that horrible harassment thing?”

“Still with the horriblemolestation thing. There’s several petitions doing the rounds to have him kicked off the force. I even saw one at that health food store you like so much. The one that deals GHB under the counter.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to make sure those silly charges go away, won’t you?” asked Mom as she plunked another large volume onto the shelf and decidedly pushed it into place. “You know as well as I do that Chase is innocent of those silly charges, and I’m sure that if you clear hisname he’ll be ever so grateful.” She gave her a knowing glance. “And a grateful man is a marrying man, honey. Remember that.”

She left the library feeling a little annoyed. First her grandmother tried to push her into Chase’s arms and now her mother. It was a concerted matchmaking effort that didn’t sit well with her. If she was ever going to choose a mate for life, as her grandmother put it, she’d do it herself, without anyone’s help. Besides, clearing Chase’s name wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Back when he was still an NYPD detective, the wife of a suspect had accused him of molesting her, and those charges had lost him his job and, very briefly, his freedom. And they weren’t going away. Instead, they’d followed him to Hampton Cove, where his job now hung in the balance.

Chase claimed he’d caught the NYPD commissioner and the wife of the mayor of New York in a torrid affair, and they’d set up this molestation claim to discredit him and shut him up. Since arriving in Hampton Cove, he’d apprehended the killer in another murder case, that of a well-known bestselling novelist, and that had gotten him a reprieve from the mayor of Hampton Cove, but it didn’t sit well with several concerned citizens that a cop on the Hampton Cove Police Department was an NYPD reject, so they’d been pressuring the council and Mayor Turner to have him dismissed.

Odelia had promised to look into the case, but so far had nothing to show for her efforts. If Chase’s old boss was having an affair, he was very discreet about it, and so far she only had Chase’s word on the matter.

As she was crossing the street to pick up the necessary ingredients for the chocolate cake her mother wanted her to bake, she saw a guy selling something from the trunk of his car, and she was reminded of Orville’s words.

She decided to have a closer look and, arriving there, saw that the guy’s customer was none other than her own grandmother! The feisty old lady was negotiating with the salesman, who stood gesticulating wildly. He had slicked-back raven hair and was wearing an actual three-piece suit.

“Gran?” she asked when she’d joined the odd couple. “What is this?”

“Oh, there you are, honey. I was hoping to run into you. So what do you think, huh?” she asked, holding up a small plastic baggie in one hand and a glass vial in the other. “Powder or liquid? I was thinking liquid, as you know I have trouble swallowing.”

Odelia’s eyes swiveled to the trunk of the guy’s car, and when she saw the baggies of white powder, clear glass vials, more baggies with pills in different colors, she had a pretty good idea what was going on here. She directed a hard look at the guy. “Are you selling Liquid G to my grandmother?”

“Hey, she wanted something to help her sleep,” the guy said, holding up his hands. He then tapped a small vial. “This will help her sleep just fine.”

“This will help her sleep forever,” Odelia said, planting her hands on her hips. “You’re that drug dealer, aren’t you? The one who’s trying to muscle Orville Haggis out of the market?”

The guy took a good look at Odelia.“And you’re that reporter, aren’t you?”

“Odelia’s the best reporter in town,” said Gran proudly. “She’s the one that catches all the bad guys before the cops ever do.” She then grinned at the guy. “She even caught herself a drug dealer just before, didn’t you, honey?”

Well, news certainly traveled fast. But then what else was new?

The next thing she knew, the guy slammed the trunk of his car closed, and then he was bolting away from them, barreling down the sidewalk.

“Oh, crap, not again,” she groaned, and took off after the guy.

“You go get him, honey!” her grandmother yelled. “I’d help you catch him but my hip’s acting up again! In fact now might be a good time to try this here happy stuff, just like the guy said.” And she flicked the vial curiously.

Horrified, Odelia shouted over her shoulder,“Don’t drink that, Gran!”

But even as she glanced back, she saw that the old lady was already knocking back the vial with visible relish. And as she was sprinting after her second drug dealer of the day, she managed to snatch her cell phone from her pocket and press it to her ear.“Chase? I’m on Main Street, chasing another drug dealer. And my gran just took a hit of GHB!”

Chapter 12

A foot pursuit was even harder than a car chase, she discovered. The guy might be a little portly, but he was in great shape. In fact he was in much better shape than she was. She probably should have bought that elliptical trainer. She’d only run a couple hundred feet before a shooting pain attacked her spleen, or whatever organ was acting up. But thinking about how this asshole had sold GHB to her grandmother gave her the fuel to keep going.

“Hold it right there!” she yelled as the guy jumped over a Poodle on a leash and then veered right between two shops. “I just wanna talk to you!”

That wasn’t necessarily true, of course. Well, she did want to talk to him, but she also wanted to slam his head against the pavement until he promised never to sell drugs to senior citizens again, or anyone else for that matter. Not that he would listen. Guys like that never listened. You had to lock them up.

She also hung a hard right and found herself hurtling down a narrow alley that opened up into a wider lane. She halted, hands on knees, panting heavily, and checked left and right. In every direction she was looking into the backyards of the houses on the next street, all neatly divided by hedges or fences. And the drug dealer, who clearly wasn’t a customer of his own junk, was now vaulting over the fences like a regular steeplechaser!

She wiped the sweat from her brow and with a groan continued her pursuit. She wanted to say she was too old for this shit, but that wasn’t true. She was simply not trained for this shit. And as she climbed the first fence, she hoped Gran hadn’t taken an overdose of that horrible drug. If she had, she’d never forgive dealer guy. Instead of gracefully hopping over the fence like a member of SEAL Team Six, she dropped down into the yard, her jeans ripping when they caught on a rusty nail. And as she tumbled down, she crashed right into a barbecue set, which, luckily for her, wasn’t switched on.

A couple, sitting on the deck, stared at her.“Is this for a contest?” asked the woman.

“I think it’s for one of them reality shows,” said her husband.

“It’s neither,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “I’m chasing a drug dealer.”

“Oh. Right,” said the woman, as if that made perfect sense.

“You go get him, honey,” said the man.

“I will, if I survive,” she said between two gasps.

She climbed the next fence, and thought that at this rate she would never get her man. But then, to her great surprise, she saw that she’d gotten her man already. He was lying sprawled on the lawn of the next family’s garden, cursing loudly and nursing an injured shin as he rolled on his back. Apparently, when landing, he’d knocked his shin on the toy plastic castle that took up a big part of the garden. The two kids who’d been playing with the castle were staring at the man who’d suddenly interrupted their garden party, and then set off into the house, wailing loudly for their mommy.

Odelia pounced on the guy and pressed him face down into the grass. She would have loved to cuff him, but since she wasn’t a cop she couldn’t. She now wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask Uncle Alec to deputize her, seeing as she was doing more work than the regular cops anyway.

But then her eye fell on a brightly green skipping rope, and she figured it would do. So she quickly and expertly tied the guy’s hands.

“You have the right to remain silent,” she began.

“What the hell are you doing?” he cursed, spitting out a few blades of grass. “You’re not a cop! You can’t make an arrest!”

“It’s called a citizen’s arrest, bozo,” she said, and shoved his face into the grass again. “And shut up! You just tried to kill my grandmother!”

He lifted his face.“I didn’t kill her!” he grunted. “I gave her a watered down vial of liquid G. She’ll just be very happy for the next couple of hours.”

“Still, you shouldn’t sell that junk to people.”

“Look, lady, I’m just trying to make a living here. So back off, all right?”

This lame excuse set her teeth on edge.“Is it true you were trying to muscle in on Orville Haggis’s territory, yes or no?”

“Sure! That loser thinks he’s the only one who can sell stuff in this town, and I’m here to show him he’s wrong. You can’t stifle competition! That’s just plain wrong. What’s more, it’s un-American!”

“What’s un-American is killing people. You killed John Paul George, didn’t you? And then tried to pin it on Orville, getting rid of him altogether.”

“What?! You’re crazy! Why would I do that? Johnny signed up with me. He said my stuff was better quality, and a lot cheaper, too. I made the deal last week. This time next month I was taking over as Johnny’s official supplier of G. If I killed him I’d be killing the goose with the golden eggs! Especially since he said he was going to recommend me to all of his friends.”

Just then, an elephant came crashing through the brush, but when Odelia looked up, she saw it wasn’t an elephant but Chase Kingsley, and he looked as winded and red-faced as she was.

“Another one!” he cried when he caught sight of her. “You caught another drug dealer?!”

“Yup, I caught him for you and now he’s all yours.”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of exasperation.“What kind of town is this? This is worse than New York!”

After catching his breath, he hoisted this new guy up and outfitted him with a nice pair of gleaming handcuffs to replace the skipping rope. And as Chase led the guy away, through the house this time, past the astonished gazes of the couple who lived there, she told him what the dealer had told her.

“So Orville is in the picture again, huh?”

“Looks like. If this guy was taking over his clients, Orville might have taken it hard and decided to send Johnny a parting gift in the form of a poisoned vial. Take him out once and for all and pin the murder on this guy.”

“Good work,” Chase grunted. “Again.”

“How is my grandmother?”

“I’ve never seen her happier. When I left she was singing the national anthem at the top of her voice, demanding that some store clerk hoist her up to the store roof and let her fly like Lady Gaga at the Super Bowl.”

“See?” asked the dealer. “A little happy juice goes a long way!”

“You’re going to look a lot less happy when I’m through with you,” grunted Chase, giving the guy a shove.

And as they took the turn to the main road, they were getting a lot of attention, people up and down the street staring at the small procession of three: the drug dealer, the burly cop and the svelte blond reporter.

“You know, at this rate Uncle Alec is going to have to deputize me,” Odelia said. “I’ve taken down more bad guys than all you cops combined.”

“Don’t even think about it,” growled Chase. “You’re not a cop and you should stop acting like one. You’re just putting yourself in danger.”

“I could be a cop. I obviously have mad skills.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s bad enough I keep tripping over you everywhere I turn. I don’t want you chasing people and arresting them.”

“Still, it’s definitely something to consider.”

“Nah-ah. Never.”

“You have to admit she’d make a great cop, though,” the drug dealer said. “And a pretty one, too. We don’t have a lot of pretty cops in this town.”

“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” grunted Chase.

They’d arrived at the dealer’s car, where now Chase’s pickup stood, the police light flashing on the roof. Gran was seated inside the trunk of the car, her tush firmly planted amongst the drug paraphernalia the guy sold, and she had a happy grin on her face, her eyes a little misty. Mom was by her side, eyeing Odelia critically. “What did you give her? She’s acting all weird.”

“Me? I didn’t give her anything!” cried Odelia. “She bought this stuff!”

“This is some good shit right here,” Gran croaked, and cackled loudly.

“Oh, God,” said Mom. “We better take her to see your father.”

Five minutes later, Chase dropped the three of them off at the doctor’s office, while he rode on to the police station to process the dealer.

“Don’t forget about dinner, Chase!” Mom said before he rode off. “Odelia is baking a great chocolate cake, aren’t you, Odelia?”

Yes, that was the most important thing right now: chocolate cake.

But Chase surprised her by yelling back,“I’m looking forward to it, Marge.”

The day was turning out a little weird, she felt, what with the murder and drug dealer number one and drug dealer number two and now Gran’s surprise love for GHB. She just hoped that the rest of the day would be less eventful, and that amongst the people Chase had arrested, at least one would turn out to be the killer. By the law of averages, that had to be so, right?

Chapter 13

It had been a long day, and when Dooley and I couldn’t find Odelia at the paper, or the library, or the doctor’s office, we figured she must have gone home. Actually I was glad. I could use a nap. Us cats don’t usually traipse around town all day. We’re more the nocturnal kind, and for us daytime is naptime. But when duty calls, like now, wegladly sacrifice our beauty sleep for the more important stuff, like helping our human catch a killer. Though it’s entirely possible Dooley and I were the exception to the rule in this.

When we arrived in our backyard, I saw to my elation that the glass sliding door was wide open, meaning Odelia was home. And if that hadn’t given her away, the smell of freshly baked chocolate cake would have.

“Hey darlings,” she said when she caught sight of us. She was seated at the kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of coffee. One look at the deep groove in her brow told me she hadn’t had any luck catching the killer yet.

“Hey, honey,” I said. “How’s it going?

“Yeah, any luck cracking the John Paul George thing?” asked Dooley.

He’d hopped up onto a stool, and I followed his example, watching as Odelia stared at us a little sadly and shook her head. “No luck so far, fellas. I did arrest two drug dealers today, so here’s hoping one of them did it. Though to be honest I doubt it. Drug dealers rarely kill their customers. At least not intentionally. And definitely not by putting spider venom in their product.”

“Spider venom? Is that what killed Johnny?” asked Dooley.

“Looks like. A rare spider venom, too. Something called Australian funnel-web spider venom. Supposedly the deadliest spider in the world. Though whoever administered the poison didn’t count on its effect being greatly diminished when ingested. The only reason the venom killed Johnny was becausehe had a weak heart.”

I thought about this for a moment. She was right. Why would a drug dealer kill a client? It made no sense. He’d lose the client, ruin his reputation, and potentially lose his business. People don’t respond well to traffickers dealing in death rather than bliss. “So what’s your theory?” I asked.

“So far I’ve got no theory,” she admitted, rising to check on her cake. “All I know is that we need to keep looking, because Uncle Alec thinks he’s got his killer in Jasper, and I’m pretty sure the guy is totally innocent.”

“I think so too,” I admitted. Dooley and I quickly gave her the gist of the interviews with Johnny’s seemingly endless row of boy toys, but there seemed to be little news in those testimonies for Odelia, and for once I felt a little helpless. There’s only so much information a cat can gleanfrom humans, and so far we hadn’t found the one clue that would break this case wide open.

“I think you should keep investigating,” I said. “If your uncle thinks he’s got his killer, he’s going to stop looking, and send the wrong guy to prison.”

“I know,” said Odelia, and gave us both a rub on the head. “Thanks for being my perfect feline spies, you guys. How did you ever get so smart?”

“We’re sleuthing cats,” I said, swelling a little. “Sleuthing is in our blood.”

“Yeah, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson got nothing on us,” said Dooley.

Odelia leaned on the desk and eyed us with a humorous glint in her eyes.“So who’s Sherlock Holmes and who’s Dr. Watson, I wonder.”

“Why, I’m Sherlock, of course,” said Dooley.

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“I’m thin and handsome and you’re fat and… well, not so handsome.”

“I’m not fat!” I cried. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m big-boned. Besides, Dr. Watson wasn’t fat. He was buff and trim. And Sherlock Holmes wasn’t handsome at all. He was… gaunt.”

“Gaunt and handsome,” Dooley insisted. “Just like me.”

“I think you could both be Sherlock Holmes,” said Odelia soothingly.

“Which would make Harriet Irene Adler,” I said.

“Wasn’t she Sherlock’s girlfriend?” asked Odelia.

“She was Sherlock’s femme fatale,” I corrected her.

“She fell for Sherlock, just like Harriet fell for Brutus,” said Dooley sadly.

“So actually Brutus is Sherlock,” said Odelia teasingly.

“Brutus obviously is Professor Moriarty,” I countered. “The evil genius who was Sherlock’s greatest foe. Which makes me Sherlock.”

“Fat chance,” Dooley scoffed.

“Look, Brutus is my biggest foe,” I said.

“Our biggest foe,” he corrected. “And he stole Irene Adler from us.”

“Brutus is going to solve this case,” I told Odelia now. “And then he’s going to tell Chase.”

“Oh? And how does he think he’s going to do that?” asked Odelia. “As far as I know Chase doesn’t talk cat.”

I shrugged.“He says he’ll find a way.”

Odelia smiled.“I’d like to see him try.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Dooley. “I don’t think it’ll work. And when he fails miserably, like he’s bound to, Harriet will finally discover that the elephant in her room has feet of clay and isn’t wearing any clothes.”

“Um, I think you’ve got your metaphors mixed up, buddy,” I said. “Either we’re talking about the elephant in the room, or Brutus has feet of clay or the emperor has no clothes. You can’t have all three.”

“Why not? It’s not like Brutus has any clothes. He’s a cat. Cats don’t wear clothes. And neither do elephants.”

“Sure,” I said, not wanting to get into another argument. Dooley was obviously feeling a little fragile right now. “You have to solve this murder before Brutus does,” I told Odelia. “If he finds the killer he’s going to get so cocky life with him will simply be unbearable. And Harriet will continue to put him on a pedestal, which means we’ll have lost our best friend forever.”

“Yeah, we’ve got to put that cat in his place by showing him how things are done around here,” said Dooley. “We have to catch that killer.”

But Odelia shook her head.“I’d like to help you, guys, but so far I have no clue. And I’m starting to think we haven’t scratched the surface yet.”

“The surface of what?” asked Dooley.

“Of the elephant,” I muttered. Then, louder, I said, “Just follow the money. Isn’t that how you solve a murder in the first place?”

“Care to explain yourself, Sherlock?” asked Odelia, amused.

“I mean, why do humans kill humans? It’s not like with us cats, to eat them, right?”

“Not unless your name is Hannibal Lecter,” she admitted.

“They kill for revenge, or love, or money,” I quickly summed up. “And people like Johnny, who are loaded to the eyeballs, are obvious targets. So who stood to gain most from his death? Who’s getting the Benjamins, baby?”

“Who’s Benjamin?” asked Dooley, confused.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I told him. “I mean, who gets the money?”

Odelia gave me an appreciative look.“You know, you’d make a pretty good cop, Max. You, too, Dooley. And because you guys worked so hard today, I got you a special treat.”

I exchanged an excited glance with Dooley. We were all for treats, especially after traipsing around town all day. So we both hopped down to the floor, and next thing we knew she’d set down a plate with two chicken wings and we found ourselves staring at them, a little disappointed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought you loved chicken wings?”

“Oh, we do,” I assured her.

“It’s just that…” Dooley began.

“We tasted some of Johnny’s food this morning.”

“And it was so good, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yeah, just about the best stuff I’ve ever tasted.”

Odelia frowned.“Don’t keep me in suspense. What was it?”

“P?t?,” we said in unison, and Odelia laughed.

“You guys,” she said, “you know I can’t afford that stuff on my measly salary. If you want to have p?t? every day you’re going to have to find yourselves another human. One who’s as rich as John Paul George.”

Dooley and I exchanged a glance again, and we both shrugged.

“Nah, that’s all right,” I said.

“Yeah, I think we’ll stick around,” said Dooley.

“P?t? is great,” I explained.

“But a great human like you is better,” Dooley finished the sentence.

She laughed again.“What a relief. I almost thought I’d have to look for other cats.” She checked on her cake again and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m baking a cake for Chase Kingsley of all people.”

“Love is in the air,” I sang.

“Everywhere you look around,” Dooley chimed in.

We’d been rehearsing the song during our nocturnal cat choir practice sessions, and it almost sounded like the original. Only a lot more howly.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” she grumbled.

She leaned against the counter, frown firmly in place again.“Follow the money, huh? Who gets to benefit the most from Johnny’s death?”

“Johnny’s family,” I suggested.

“And Jasper,” said Dooley.

“And Bryony Pistol,” said Odelia.

“Huh? Who?” I asked.

“Johnny’s wife. Apparently Johnny never divorced her.”

“I didn’t know Johnny had a wife,” I said.

“Nobody did. Though I’m pretty sure by now my uncle does.”

“We better ask Brutus what he knows,” I said. “He’s been glued to the police station all day. Maybe he picked up something we missed.”

“Let’s ask Harriet,” Dooley suggested. “Brutus won’t tell us a thing.”

“Well, he’s probably right. We wouldn’t tell him anything either.”

“You guys, why don’t you kiss and make up with Brutus already?” asked Odelia. “Hasn’t this feud between you gone on long enough?”

“Why don’t you and Chase kiss and make up?” I threw back.

She blinked.“It’s complicated,” she admitted.

“Well, our relationship with Brutus is complicated too.”

“Very complicated,” Dooley said somberly.

“Why don’t I talk to Chase about Brutus again?” Odelia suggested.

“That would be great,” I said. “Just tell him to get rid of the brute. I’m sure there’s plenty of room at the animal shelter.”

“Or just donate him to charity,” said Dooley, perking up slightly.

She laughed.“I doubt Chase will go for it. But I will talk to him.”

Dooley put his head on his paws again. It was obvious that‘talking to Chase’ wasn’t going to cut it. The guy obviously held no sway over his cat.

Fifteen minutes later, the cake was ready, and Odelia took it out of the oven and walked it across the yard to her parents’ yard. We followed her, even though we should probably have that nap now. But duty called.

Over at Marge and Tex’s, everything was set for dinner, and Uncle Alec and Chase were already chatting up a storm with their hosts. They were all seated out on the deck, where dinner was going to be served. No sense in being cooped up inside when the weather was this nice. Two other guests that had arrived were Brutus and Harriet, who were lying on the porch swing Odelia’s dad had installed a couple of weeks ago. They looked like two lovers in heat, and Dooley muttered, “Max, I can’t do this. I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, stopping him with my paw. “The worst thing we can do right now is show Brutus that he’s won. We need to stand firm, Dooley. We need to show he’s just a guest, and we’re masters of our home.”

He sighed.“Why do I have the impression he’s not buying any of that?”

“Because he’s hard of hearing,” I said. “All we need to do is yell harder.”

I walked up to Brutus and Harriet, and jumped up to join them on the love seat. Dooley, meanwhile, decided to remain on the ground, staring up at the three of us gloomily.

“Hey, Brutus,” I said, trying to sound like a master of my own home. “So have you cracked this case yet?”

“Not yet,” he admitted with a smug smile. “But I’m getting there.”

“That’s great,” I said. “So you’re close to catching the killer, huh?”

“I’m almost ready to reveal his identity, yes,” said Brutus.

Harriet, who’d been licking her fur—that kind of snowy white coat takes a lot of licks to keep looking so nice and shiny—sighed wistfully. “Brutus is so clever, Max. He’s listened to all the interviews Chief Alec and Chase did today, and he’s drawn a most fascinating conclusion. He’s really nailed it.”

“You did, huh?” I asked. “Well, to be honest I expected nothing less from you, Brutus. You are a policeman’s cat, after all. A true detective.”

“Glad you’re finally seeing things my way, Maxie, baby,” he sneered.

“Oh, but I certainly do,” I assured him. “It’s just that us country bumpkins need more time to figure things out than you slick city cats.”

“See?” he asked, addressing Harriet. “I told you those two morons would see the light. All right,” he said now. “I don’t see why I can’t tell you. I know for a fact now that there wasn’t just one killer. They were all in it together.”

I raised my eyebrows.“Come again?”

“Don’t you see?” he asked. “All those boy toys—”

“Or toy boys,” Harriet supplied.

“Whatever. They’re all in this together, see?”

I was reluctant to admit I didn’t see, so I just goggled at him.

“They were all sick and tired of having to compete for the attention of the johnny up top, so they decided to do away with Johnny once and for all.”

“I, um… I’m speechless,” I admitted.

“Come on!” he said. “You see it all the time. Humans can only be humiliated by another human for so long, until they start fighting back. Just think of Caesar being killed by his senators. Or all those assassination attempts on Hitler’s life.”

“What have Caesar and Hitler have to do with John Paul George?”

“Everything! Johnny was lording over these guys. They were like his slaves, and slaves will always rise up against their oppressors. These boys were sick and tired of having to perform these… services, night after night. I mean, Johnny wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt. The guy was fat and ugly, and not much fun to please. So they finally decided to whack the guy. They all got together and devised a plan and swore a sacred oath never to tell a soul.”

“Like a conspiracy, huh?”

“Exactly! And since they all swore to keep the secret, there’s no way Chase or the Chief are ever going to find out what happened.” He grinned. “But I’m on to them. Listening to their testimonies convinced me they’re hiding something. And I’m going to reveal their secret. Me! Brutus!”

“They might be hiding the fact that they’re all working as escorts,” I pointed out. “Which isn’t something they want their families to know.”

“No, they’re all in this one big conspiracy to kill their oppressor,” Brutus insisted, “and I’m going to reveal the truth to Chase very soon now.”

Dooley, who’d been staring up at Brutus throughout this long harangue, now swallowed. “Cats rising up to kill their oppressor, huh? I like it.”

“Not cats,” Brutus corrected him lazily. “Boy toys.”

“Or toy boys,” said Harriet.

“Whatever. Boys deciding to stick it to the man. Make him pay for what he did to them. Finally end the era of oppression and humiliation.”

There was a strange fire in Dooley’s eyes, and I could see that Brutus’s words had made a great impact on him. Suddenly I saw why. Killing Brutus, that slightly feverish look on Dooley’s face said, that is what we should do.

I shot him a warning glance, but he simply waggled his eyebrows.

“So where did those boys get the poison?” I asked Brutus.

He waved a careless paw.“Those are minor details. I’m sure that you’ll find that one of those guys had access to a stash of spider venom. Slipping some of it into Johnny’s vial would have been a piece of cake.”

“Maybe one of those boys is Australian,” said Harriet.

“Good thinking, toots,” said Brutus. He pointed at Harriet. “Smart as a whip, this one. Australian spider venom? The Australian boy toy did it.”

“Or toy boy,” said Harriet, putting her head on Brutus’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Dooley, who’d been Harriet’s number one admirer from the first, looked pained. To watch the cat you’ve loved for so long being reduced to playing second fiddle was definitely painful to watch, and even more for him.

Maybe there was something in Dooley’s idea, as he now stared at me imploringly. I finally rolled my eyes and nodded. Maybe there was merit in this. If we couldn’t get rid of Brutus the easy way, maybe we simply had to kill him. And that’s how Operation Kill Brutus was born. Out of Dooley’s love for Harriet, and my exasperation with the brute. Suddenly mixing some little-known exotic poison in the cat’s food didn’t sound all that far-fetched.

We might not have been Brutus’s boy toys—or toy boys—but we were cats being oppressed by a brutal, well, oppressor, and ready to rise up. Now all we needed to do was find one of those Australian funnel-web spiders and convince him to loan us some of his venom. How hard could that be?

Chapter 14

“So, Chase,” said Odelia, once they were all seated at the dinner table. “When are you going to find yourself a place of your own?”

He gave her a level gaze.“Why, do you have a suggestion for me?”

“Chase will find a place when he’s good and ready,” said Mom. “In the meantime he’s happy to stay with Alec, isn’t that right, Alec?”

“Sure,” said the Chief, ladling more mashed potatoes onto his plate and adding a good helping of gravy. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like, Chase, I already told you that.”

“Thanks, Chief,” said Chase warmly, and popped a meatball into his mouth. “These meatballs are just great, Marge.”

“Thanks,” said Mom. “But it’s actually my mother you should thank, Detective. She rolled them, isn’t that right, Mom?”

Gran, who was still looking a little hyped up, nodded.“That’s right. They’re my specialty. Always had a keen interest in meatballs, if you catch my drift.” At this, she directed a look so lascivious at Chase, Odelia almost groaned in embarrassment. Dad had given her a quick checkup, and had said there was no danger. That the effects of the drug would wear off pretty soon. Apart from occasional hot flashes and a sense of euphoria, she’d be just fine. What he hadn’t said was that she was going to be horny as heck. Which Odelia should probably have realized, cause that was exactly the reason John Paul George had been so fond of this particular substance.

“Yeah, you’ve got some amazing balls, Vesta,” Dad said, oblivious.

“I know,” said Gran, “and I’m not the only one.” Once again, she shot some pretty lewd looks in Chase’s direction. To his credit, the cop decided to steer the conversation to safer waters and away from the meatball theme.

“The reason I haven’t found a place yet is because this town has some pretty expensive real estate,” he said now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Dad. “Lots of folks have decided to profit from the boom by turning their houses into B& Bs and the rest have been snapped up by tourists. Hard to find something reasonably priced nowadays. Unless you’re handy with tools? There’s always a fixer-upper you can find, Chase.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he’s real handy with his tools,” said Gran, licking her lips.

“Well, I am,” said Chase, after giving Gran a bemused look. “But not handy enough to fix up an entire house, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll find something,” said Uncle Alec. “Until thenmi casa es su casa.”

“So have you made any progress on the JPG case yet?” asked Mom.

“Yeah, do you think you’ve got the right guy in custody?” asked Dad.

“Well, I’m still leaning toward Jasper,” said Uncle Alec. “I really like him as a suspect. He had opportunity—he knew exactly which vial was Johnny’s and he could easily have slipped in that venom—and he sure had motive, from what I can tell. And let’s not forget that his fingerprints were all over that vial.”

“Too bad,” said Dad with a shake of his head. “I’ve gotten to like the guy. I would never have pegged him for a killer. Not in a million years.”

“Sometimes it’s the ones you least suspect,” said the Chief.

“So what was his motive?” asked Dad. “Why did he do it?”

“The obvious one: money. He was slowly being edged out of Johnny’s inner circle and that mustn’t have sat well with him. It was only a matter of time before Johnny was going to ask him to pack his bags and clear out, and that would have been the end of his cushy life.”

“But he’s not going to inherit much, is he?” asked Odelia.

“He stands to inherit plenty,” said Uncle Alec. “I talked to Johnny’s lawyer and he said Jasper gets the house and a monthly allowance. That’s plenty of motive right there. Plenty of folks would kill for a deal like that.”

“But what about the bulk of the estate?” asked Odelia. “Who gets that?”

“Ah, now there’s something interesting,” said the Chief, wiping his lips on his napkin and placing it next to his plate.

“The wife,” said Chase. “She gets the whole kit and caboodle.”

Odelia noticed the detective didn’t seem happy about it for some reason.

“We didn’t even know there was a wife, did we, Chase?” asked the Chief.

“We sure didn’t,” he said, in the same subdued way.

“Not only was Johnny still married, Mrs. George inherits all.”

“So what about Johnny’s six sisters?” asked Odelia. She’d read somewhere that Johnny had no less than six sisters, who lived in England.

“Whose sexy sisters?” asked Gran, confused.

“They’ll get their share,” the Chief confirmed, ignoring his mother, “but compared to what the wife gets that’s just chump change.”

“I knew about the wife,” said Mom. “I didn’t know she was still in the picture, though. She must be happy after the sacrifices she made.”

“Sacrifices?” asked Chase.

“Yes, Mom told me that Bryony spent a fortune launching Johnny’s career,” said Odelia.

“Not justa fortune, her entire family’s fortune,” Mom corrected her.

“So I guess it’s only fair she gets to recuperate it,” Odelia said.

“So this wife,” Dad said. “This… Bryony…”

“Pistol,” Mom supplied.

“A real pistol,” Gran murmured inexplicably, munching on a meatball.

“This Bryony Pistol,” Dad continued. “Have you talked to her? Maybe she’s got what you detectives call, um, means, motive and opportunity?” He smiled apologetically. “You can tell I’m not the sleuth in this family.”

“We’re going to interview her first thing tomorrow morning,” said the Chief. He gave Chase a quick glance. “That is to say, I’m going to talk to her.”

Odelia frowned at this.“Why not Chase?”

“There’s a hitch,” Chase said. “Turns out Bryony Pistol has a daughter—”

“Veronica George,” the Chief said.

“—who filed a restraining order against me some time ago.”

They all stared at him, stunned.“What do you mean?” asked Odelia.

Uncle Alec cleared his throat.“Talk about a small world, huh? Turns out Johnny’s little girl, who’s not so little anymore, used to date the scumbag you arrested today. Orville Haggis. Orville isn’t his real name, though. He goes by the name Rubb. Donovan Rubb.”

Gran, whose eyes had drooped closed, sat up with a start.“Rub? Rub who?”

The Chief stared at her for a moment, then continued,“Turns out Donovan Rubb and Veronica George are the ones that caused so much trouble for Chase. They’re not an item anymore, but she’s the one that filed those charges against Chase, and got him kicked off the force.”

They all exchanged startled glances.“So you can’t talk to her?” asked Mom. “That’s just crazy.”

Chase nodded.“I can’t come within three hundred feet of the woman.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Dad, and his words spoke for all of them.

For a moment, a pregnant silence descended upon the company, until Gran croaked,“More meatballs anyone? Take ‘em while they’re hot.”

“Why don’t I go with you tomorrow, Uncle Alec?” Odelia suggested. “I mean, I have to talk to the widow anyway, for my article, so we might as well go together. Especially now that Chase can’t come near the daughter.”

“That’s a great idea,” said the Chief.

“That’s a terrible idea,” said Chase. “Come on, Chief. Odelia is not a cop. You can’t bring her into this investigation.”

“She’s already front and center,” said the Chief. “Or have you forgotten she’s the one that nailed those two drug dealers? Besides, she’s a great interviewer, that niece of mine. Aren’t you, honey?”

“But this goes against every rule in the book,” Chase protested.

“We’re not big on rules down here,” Gran piped up.

“Yeah, you’ll find that we tend to do things different in Hampton Cove,” said Dad, clapping the burly cop on the back. “And Odelia has a knack for solving mysteries.”

“She used to try and solve mysteries when she was just a little girl,” said Mom. “Tell Chase about that time you solved the teddy bear mystery, honey.”

In spite of himself, Chase’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Teddy bear mystery?”

“Not now, Mom,” Odelia said, embarrassed.

“Odelia’s favorite teddy bear went missing one day, and she wouldn’t let it go,” Mom said with a smile at the memory. “I just figured she’d lost it somewhere, you know, but she was adamant someone had kidnapped it.”

“I remember that,” said Dad, also smiling now.

“Turned out she was right. Billy Bob Turner, whose family used to live right across the street, had gotten it into his nut to collect all the bears from all the houses on the block and hide them under his bed. Turns out his folks were into some kind of religious cult and he thought the world was going to come to an end soon and he needed to save all the teddies of all the kids.”

“Aw, that’s actually kinda sweet,” said Chase.

“So Odelia stomps over there one day and accuses Billy Bob of kidnapping her teddy and holding him hostage, and lo and behold, she was right. She’d found a small footprint right outside her window, and had tracked it all the way to the Turner place.”

“Well, as much as I hate to tell you this, Marge, there’s a difference between finding Mr. Teddy and catching a killer,” said Chase. “This is some seriously dangerous stuff, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to involve untrained and unarmed civilians. And I’m only telling you this for her safety.”

“Who says she’s unarmed?” Gran now piped up.

“Gran, not now,” Odelia hissed.

“Yes, Mom, not now,” Chief Alec said, looking decidedly ill at ease.

“What do you mean, she’s not unarmed?” asked Chase. “I checked the registry when I first arrived in town and your niece doesn’t have a license.”

“Of course she’s got a gun,” Gran insisted. “And she’s a great shot, too.”

“You checked my license?” asked Odelia, incensed.

“When I keep bumping into someone, I want to be sure they’re not carrying,” Chase said. “Call it my innate sense of self-preservation.”

“You had no right,” she began, but then realized he did have the right.

“Anyone want more meatballs?” Mom asked in a faux-chipper voice.

“She keeps it in her purse,” said Gran now, “just like any girl should.”

“So you’re carrying a gun without a license. Why am I not surprised?”

“Chase,” said Uncle Alec warningly.

“I can’t believe you’d let your niece carry an illegal gun!”

“It’s not her fault she lost her license!” Gran cried. “So back off, tightass.”

“Lost her license? Why? Did she shoot somebody?” he asked. When she refused to look him in the eye, he cried, “You actually shot someone?!”

“He was a nobody,” Gran supplied. “One of those no-good boyfriends of hers. And good riddance, too. The guy was too old for her anyhoo.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “You killed him?!”

“Nah, she missed,” said Gran.

“I didn’t miss,” she snapped. “If I wanted to kill him he’d be dead right now.”

“Would have been better if you had,” said Gran. “Piece of no-good scum.”

“He was one of her boyfriends,” Mom said when Odelia clamped her lips together. How had this conversation gotten away from her so fast?

“One of her no-good boyfriends,” Gran said, rubbing it in.

“Odelia always had horrible taste in men,” Mom said, quite unnecessarily.

“This one was even worse than the others, though,” said Gran. “Talk about a loser.”

Chase, shaking his head, asked,“Who was he? The bank robber? Or the crook wanted in six states?”

“Twelve states,” Uncle Alec muttered. “But who’s counting?”

Odelia looked up at Chase, and saw that a twinkle had appeared in his eyes.“If you have to know, he was a rookie cop,” she finally said. “I was eighteen and he said that if I showed him mine he’d show me his. So I did, and accidentally shot his… package. Hey! He said he wanted to do it with the safety off!”

“Talk about unsafe sex,” said Dad with an eyeroll.

Chapter 15

That night, Dooley and I decided to go out to the house of John Paul George for a recital of the cat choir in honor of our now orphaned brethren and sisters. It was the right thing to do, we felt, as a treat to the cats who were now going to be p?t?-less for the rest of their lives, and who, if Jasper was convicted of his boyfriend’s murder, might never see each other again.

“It makes you think about your own mortality, doesn’t it?” I asked as we trotted along in a slow procession to Johnny’s expansive mansion.

“It sure does,” said Dooley with a sigh.

Perhaps a dozen cats had decided to make the trek, which just went to show how popular JPG had been with Hampton Bay’s cat population, and how legendary his p?t?. Not that we would get any of that tonight. Or at least I didn’t think so. Father Reilly’s tabby Shanille was there, Stacy Brown’s cat, and Kingman, of course, Wilbur Vickery’s cat. Conspicuously absent were Brutus and Harriet, but then theyhadn’t been invited.

We’d started the choir purely for our own amusement, and to give vent to the artistic talents of its members, but now, with this tragedy, we’d found a new purpose: to honor the cats of recently departed humans. In most cases they were taken in by relatives, though in rare cases they ended up at the animal shelter. Not that they were to be pitied. The Hampton Cove animal shelter was a well-funded operation, its animals well taken care of.

“I wonder what would happen to us if anything ever happened to Odelia or her mom,” said Dooley now, striking the morbid note.

“I’m sure nothing will happen to Odelia,” I told him. “She’s perfectly healthy and perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And us.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a possibility, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” I admitted. I didn’t want to dwell on such a ghoulish and depressing topic, even though we were about to organize what was essentially a wake. “I think Odelia will have a long and prosperous life.”

Dooley heaved a deep sigh.“I sure hope so.”

We finally arrived at Johnny’s mansion and gathered in a circle outside the wrought-iron gate where fans and townsfolk had placed dozens, perhaps even hundreds of floral tributes. They were piled up high against the fence, accompanied by candles and cards and all manner of commemorative gifts people had left behind. The outpouring of grief and love was impressive, and reminded us how beloved the singer had really been, and not just by cats.

We stepped through the gate’s bars, and proceeded to the house, walked around back until we reached the pool area, and took a moment to gaze at the place where the great man had breathed his final breath. George, Princess and the other cats were all seated on pool chairs, and joined us in this silent tribute. Father Reilly’s Shanille then spoke a few words in honor of the singer while we all stood there, heads bowed, listening to the brief sermon, which centered on the topics of ephemerality and the importance of enjoying every moment life so graciously gave, for you never knew what the future held.

And then we all broke into song, choosing for this opportunity a song of John Paul George himself, the rather apt‘Queen in a King-Size Bed,’ one of his biggest hits. We massacred the popular hymn with glee, Kingman leading the choir and the rest of us meowing, yowling and caterwauling up a storm. Johnny’s twelve cats, after listening with rapt attention for a while, soon joined in, and for the next twenty minutes or so, nothing could be heard but the sweet sound of two dozen cats screeching at the top of their lungs.

I don’t know if the neighbors could hear our very special midnight concert and frankly I didn’t care. But if they had, I’m sure they would have appreciated it as much as I did. At one point a window was thrown open upstairs and a curler-covered woman’s head appeared, shouting something and throwing a shoe. It made a nice splash as it landed in the pool, and the head disappeared again, grumbling some choice curse words under its breath.

All in all, the tribute went well, and I was truly moved, and even had to wipe away a tear, as did most of the other cats. A few of them were even wailing and crying their eyes out, and even George, probably the oldest cat in our small feline gathering, was sniffling softly into his whiskers.

When the concert was over, Johnny’s cats thanked us, and then led us all inside to sample some of Johnny’s special p?t?. It was a testament to the special moment that they all shared their bowls with us, and I was happy to see they were filled to the brim, which told me that even in Johnny’s and Jasper’s absence, their feline friends were well looked after. Possibly by the woman in curlers who’d just thrown her shoe at us.

After everyone had eaten their fill, we walked out again, and we all sat around carefully licking our paws and cleaning our faces. Dooley and I took this opportunity to chat with Princess. The Siamese was more subdued than before, which wasn’t hard to understand.

“That was very sweet of you,” she said with a little sniffle.

“Just showing our appreciation for what Johnny meant to the world,” I said.

“I’m sure he would have loved it. Too bad he isn’t here to enjoy it.” She glanced up at the sky. “Or maybe he is.”

Dooley and I also looked up at the twinkling stars.“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “I’m sure he’s up there looking down at us right now.”

Just at that moment, a star sparkled, and Princess gasped, clutching at her heart.“I’m sure that was Johnny, letting us know how much he cares.”

We stared up for a while longer, but I decided to strike the business note again. We weren’t just here for the tribute and the p?t?, after all, but also to solve a murder. “Our human is having a chat with Johnny’s wife tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said vaguely, not showing the least bit of interest.

“Did you know he was still married?” I tried again.

She nodded.“Mh-mh. Though the last couple of years she rarely came out here. She wasn’t very fond of Jasper, as you can imagine.”

“She wasn’t, huh?” I asked, with a meaningful glance at Dooley, who was staring at Princess now, who was still staring up at the stars.

“He was writing again, you know,” she said dreamily.

“Writing? You mean songs?”

“No, the great American novel,” she said. “Of course songs, silly. I told you last time that he had hundreds of songs tucked away, but lately he’d been having trouble focusing and he’d stopped recording altogether for the past year or so. Until he decided to get into the groove again. He wanted to keep it a secret from Jasper, though. A special surprise for their anniversary. They would have been together fifteen years next month, and he wanted to surprise him by presenting him with an entire album of brand new songs.”

“I thought he’d stopped recording altogether. That he had trouble with his voice. At least that’s what Jasper told the police.”

“Well, he had, but he was working with a voice coach, and things were progressing nicely. His voice had a different timbre,” she said softly. “More mature, but still very much Johnny. And his songs were different, too. More reflective, and completely acoustic. Just Johnny and his guitar.” She sighed wistfully. “I thought they were some of his very best work. Pity the world will never get to hear them.”

“Why not?” I asked. “If Jasper finds those recordings he might release them as a treat to Johnny’s fans.”

“I doubt it,” she said sadly. “With Jasper in prison, the care of Johnny’s estate will probably fall on his wife now, and since Jasper is the only one with access to Johnny’s computers, she won’t even know about the music.”

“Unless we tell Jasper and he tells the wife,” I said.

She eyed me strangely.“How can you tell Jasper? You don’t speak human.”

“No, I don’t, but my human speaks cat, so there’s that.”

She smiled, obviously not believing a word I’d just said.

“It’s true,” Dooley chimed in. “We can talk to our human.”

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, guys.”

“Princess?” George asked from the house. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, George,” she said, then turned to us. “Time for my beauty sleep. Thanks for the tribute concert. It was wonderful.”

“Thanks for the p?t?,” said Dooley with a dumb grin on his face.

She smiled.“You’re welcome.”

We watched as she sashayed in the direction of the house.

“Wow,” said Dooley finally. “What a cat.”

“Yeah,” I managed, though a little huskily. “What a cat.”

Chapter 16

Odelia had a hard time finding sleep. Long after she should have drifted off into a refreshing slumber, she was still tossing and turning. She couldn’t stop thinking about the murder case, and how her uncle was sure he got the right man in jail. Even though he’d agreed to interview the widow, he considered it a mere courtesy call. She was convinced that Jasper was innocent, and not just because her father thought so, too. There was something fundamentally wrong about this whole case.

For one thing, the fingerprints on the vial were too convenient. If Jasper had gone to all the trouble of collecting the venom of a rare species of spider, would he really be so dumb to leave his fingerprints behind? She didn’t think so. Those prints had to have been planted there. And where had Jasper found that venom? It wasn’t as if they sold that stuff at Walmart or Target.

The chief assumed he’d gotten it online, or from a friend, but so far he had to admit they hadn’t tracked down either this friend or the site where Jasper could have bought it, and Odelia was pretty sure he never would.

When finally she’d drifted off into a restless sleep, she was awakened by the familiar weight of Max finding his space at the foot of the bed. She smiled. He’d been off half the night, as usual, and she was glad he was back.

“How was your evening, Max?” she whispered, raising her head from the pillow to look at the familiar form of the big, ginger cat. He stared back at her with his remarkable cat’s eyes, lit up by a sliver of moon slanting in through the curtains.

“We did a memorial concert for Johnny,” he whispered back. “His cats were all deeply touched.”

“Why are you whispering?” she whispered.

“Because you are whispering!”

“Oh. Right. Well, that was very sweet of you.”

“Did you know that Johnny was recording again?”

“He was? I thought Jasper said he’d lost his voice?”

“Well, he had, but he was practicing with a voice coach and was writing new songs. He’d recorded a bunch of acoustic songs for Jasper, as a surprise for their fifteenth anniversary. He was going to give it to him next week.”

She thought about this. If Johnny was recording songs for Jasper, he wasn’t going to leave him, was he? And that put that particular motive to rest once and for all.

“You have to tell Jasper,” said Max. “Otherwise those songs will be lost forever. They’re on Johnny’s computer, and Princess said only Jasper has the password.”

“Princess?”

Max hesitated.“One of Johnny’s cats. A Siamese.”

She smiled in the darkness.“Is she nice, this Princess?”

“She’s all right,” he said. “Dooley ate all of her food the other morning, but since she didn’t say anything about it, I guess she didn’t even notice.”

“People like Johnny have housekeepers, Max, and lots and lots of staff. I’m sure they don’t personally deal with minor details like feeding the cats.”

“That’s what I told Dooley!” He paused, then said, “I’m glad you take care of these minor details, Odelia.” His voice suddenly sounded husky.

“I like taking care of those details.”

There was a pause, then Max said,“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

She’d almost drifted off to sleep when he asked, in a small voice, “Odelia?”

“Mh?”

“What’s going to happen to me if something happens to you?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Max. I promise.”

“That’s what I told Dooley,” he said, and he seemed satisfied, for a few minutes later she heard his typical light snore softly echoing through the room. The sound soothed her, and before long she was fast asleep herself.

Chapter 17

The next morning saw Odelia, bright and early, swing by the police station to see her uncle. When she breezed into the Chief’s office, not bothering to knock as usual, she found both her uncle and Chase looking downcast, as if they had something on their minds.

She dropped down into the seat next to Chase.“Why the long faces, guys? Bit in a bad donut?”

“If only that were true,” grunted her uncle.

She glanced over at Chase, but he refused to meet her gaze.

“So? Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s wrong?”

Uncle Alec leaned back, his chair creaking beneath his bulk.“We’ve been overruled by the powers that be, I’m afraid.”

She gave him a blank stare.“I have no idea what you just said. What powers that be? What did they overrule?”

“I just got a call from the mayor, demanding we release Donovan Rubb, aka Orville Haggis, at once.”

She sat bolt upright at this.“Release Donovan Rubb? But why?”

“Turns out the mayor got a call from Chase’s old boss, NYPD Commissioner Vernon Necker, conveying his displeasure with Mr. Rubb’s arrest. When he heard Chase was involved, he pretty much blew a gasket.”

“But he can’t force you to release Rubb, can he? That’s just nuts.”

“Well, technically the mayor can’t interfere in an ongoing investigation, but if he wanted to he could have my job, so…”

She stared at her uncle.“Fire you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He didn’t actually tell me he was going to fire me, but it was implied.”

“Is this still about that same nonsense with the Commissioner?”

“It is,” Chase confirmed.

Her uncle sighed deeply.“Rubb must have asked his lawyer to put in a good word for him with his old buddy Commissioner Necker—”

“Who decided to intervene in an ongoing murder investigation?”

“Looks like.”

“But you refused, right?” she asked. When her uncle didn’t respond, she repeated, a little more heatedly, “Tell me you refused, Uncle Alec.”

“Donovan Rubb walked half an hour ago,” said Chase.

“Are you crazy?! The man’s a drug dealer! You can’t let him walk.”

“Afraid I had no choice in the matter,” said the Chief. “Rubb claims police harassment.”

“He confessed! He told us he sold those drugs to John Paul George!”

“He retracted that statement. Said it was given under duress. Says you roughed him up and he’s got the scrapes and bruises to prove it.”

“He rode his bike into a ditch, which is how he got the scrapes and bruises.”

“He says you put him in that ditch. By forcing him off the road. He’s pressing charges for police brutality and he’s got the Commissioner in his corner.”

“Well, I’m not a cop, so he can’t sue me for police brutality.”

“He’s still pressing charges, against both you and Chase.” He shook his head. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

“It gets worse?”

“When the Commissioner heard about Chase’s involvement he wasn’t pleased. So he gave the mayor to understand he was doing Hampton Cove a disservice by having a man of his reputation carry a badge in this town.”

She looked from her uncle to Chase.“He’s trying to get you fired?”

“Well, obviously the mayor can’t fire Chase, only I have that authority,” said Uncle Alec, “but he made it clear that he wasn’t happy with my decision to hire Chase in the first place, and he wants Chase gone. Right now.”

She sagged a little. This was terrible. She and Chase didn’t always see eye to eye—well, actually they never saw eye to eye on anything, and had locked horns several times. But he was a good cop and these charges were bogus.

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

“In all good conscience I can’t fire Chase,” said the Chief. “I just can’t.”

“Which is why I’ve decided to step aside myself,” said Chase.

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. I think it’s extremely noble of you to try and protect me, Chief, but I can’t put you in this position. It’s not fair to you or the people of this town. If the mayor wants me gone, I’m going.” He shook his head. “No sense postponing the inevitable and dragging this out. Weall knew this was coming sooner or later, and arresting that scumbag Rubb seems to have sped up the process.”

“But you can’t go,” she said. “You did nothing wrong.”

He fixed her with a curious look.“You believe that?”

“Of course I do. This whole thing is a setup. All you need to do is clear your name. If you can prove you were set up, this will all go away.”

“That’s a pretty big if.”

“Not if you’ve got Hampton Cove’s number one reporter on your side.”

He grimaced.“Look, this is not the first time I’ve gone through this. I’d hoped I could leave it all behind, but obviously that’s not the case, so…”

“You can’t give up now, Chase. This is just wrong.”

“This is politics.”

She frowned.“What if you talked to the mayor of New York? I’m sure he’ll believe you if you tell him his wife is having an affair. He’ll be furious.”

“The mayor of New York knows perfectly well his wife is having an affair, and he doesn’t give a hoot. Probably because he’s having an affair himself.”

“With the Commissioner’s wife? That would be funny.”

He looked at her from beneath lowered brows.“I’m not laughing.”

“If the mayor knows, why isn’t he divorcing her?”

“I told you, he doesn’t care. All he cares about is that his wife is funding his reelection campaign, so he’s not going to rock the boat. Or cause a scandal. They’re presenting a united front, all to further his political ambitions. So when some pesky cop comes along, they simply crush him.”

Things were becoming a lot clearer now. Inadvertently Chase had stuck his head into a hornet’s nest, and whatever he did, he wasn’t getting out without being stung. “So what are you going to do? Lay down and die?”

He smiled a thin-lipped smile.“I’m going to save your uncle the trouble of having to deal with my mess.” He placed his badge and his gun on the Chief’s desk and rose. “Thanks for the opportunity, Chief. It’s been a real honor.”

“But you can’t go,” she said. “This town needs a cop like you, Chase.”

She couldn’t believe she’d just said those words, and meant them, too.

“Thanks for allowing me to see you in action, Miss Poole. It’s been a real treat, and I’m not likely to forget those remarkable driving skills of yours.”

And then, before she could say something else, he simply walked out.

She sat there, staring at her uncle, who looked just as shocked as she did.

“This isn’t right,” she told him. “In fact this is all kinds of wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled. “This is a hit job.”

“I’m going to clear Chase’s name,” she said decidedly.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“I have no idea,” she said. She saw that Brutus and Harriet were seated on the windowsill, listening attentively. They looked equally stunned.

“You know you surprise me,” said her uncle. “I actually thought you’d be glad to be rid of Chase. Hell, I figured you’d be jumping for joy right now.”

“I’m not saying that Chase doesn’t have his faults,” she said. “But he’s a good cop, and this town needs men like him. Granted, the way he always wants to do things by the book is infuriating, but I’d hate to see him go.”

“He is a great cop,” said the chief. “And I hate to see him go, too.”

“I’m going to fix this mess,” she said. “I don’t know how, but I will.”

Chapter 18

Before Odelia could devote her attention to getting Chase’s name cleared, she had a murder to solve, though. So half an hour later, she and her uncle were seated across from Bryony Pistol, John Paul George’s widow. She was the same age as the singer, but looked at least a decade younger, so either she had killer genes, or had taken a leaf from Jennifer Aniston’s page and copied the actress’s anti-aging secrets.

“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Mrs. George,” the Chief said.

“Pistol. I rarely use my husband’s name these days.”

“Mrs. Pistol. And my condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you, Chief,” said the woman, dabbing a small handkerchief to her eyes. She was sitting ramrod straight, the picture of regal grace and poise.

The house where she lived wasn’t as big or luxurious as Johnny’s, but it was still very nice, and it was obvious that the woman was well-off.

“I’d actually hoped to talk to your daughter, too,” said the Chief.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. Veronica had an urgent meeting in town. She should be back soon.” She eyed Odelia a little uncertainly. “Are you also a police officer, dear?”

“Miss Poole is a, um, consultant,” said the Chief. “She’s also my niece.”

“What about that other policeman? What’s his name, um…”

“Detective Kingsley is no longer on the case, ma’am. In fact he doesn’t work for us anymore as of this morning.”

Bryony nodded.“My daughter will be pleased to hear that.”

“About your daughter… is it true she used to be involved with Donovan Rubb?”

“I’m sorry to say that she was, even though I always told her not to be. Perhaps you already know this, but Mr. Rubb used to deal drugs, you see.”

“We know,” the Chief confirmed. “He was Johnny’s supplier.”

“Oh, dear,” said the woman, shaking her head in obvious dismay. “Good thing Veronica broke up with him. That man would have been her downfall.”

“When exactly did they break up, ma’am?”

“Well, let me see.” She thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure it was soon after that incident with Detective Kingsley. She finally came to her senses.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Odelia said. “But what exactly happened between Detective Kingsley and your daughter?”

The woman raised her hands and dropped them in her lap.“Well, he made a pass at her, didn’t he? He interviewed her when Donovan got arrested and must have taken a fancy to her, because he tried to kiss her.”

Chief Alec cleared his throat and gave his niece a warning look.“After your daughter and Mr. Rubb broke up, did they keep in touch?”

“Not to my knowledge. I actually took this house after this whole affair ended, just to make sure Veronica would be away from her old circle. Away from the temptations of the big city and that toxic group of so-called friends of hers.” She waved a hand. “And also to be closer to her father, of course, though God knows Johnny was never much of a father to Veronica, or a husband to me, for that matter. Still, it was better than staying in New York.”

“You do know that Mr. Rubb also moved out here, don’t you?” asked Odelia. “He was operating a health food store under an assumed name.”

“Orville Haggis,” the Chief muttered.

“No, I did not know that,” said Bryony. “But I’m not surprised. That man always had an unhealthy obsession with my daughter. At least she was over him. Said she’d learned her lesson. Besides, she could see what drugs were doing to her father, and I like to think that’s the wake-up call she needed.”

“Did you and Johnny remain close?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, we did. In fact we never even bothered to get divorced. Though these past few months we’d discussed it. Johnny had big plans, you see.”

Odelia frowned.“What plans?”

“Well, he was going to divorce me and marry Jasper, of course.”

“You were going to divorce?” asked Odelia, surprised.

She nodded.“Johnny and I never went through the hassle of a divorce because we went from being lovers to being husband and wife to being best friends. I never blamed him for leaving me, and he always remained grateful for the support I gave to him in the early stages of his career.” She smiled. “But when Johnny confessed he’d found a soulmate in Jasper and wanted to place their relationship on a more formal footing, I naturally agreed. We’d gone to see a lawyer together and were going to finalize the divorce so Johnny could have the big, fancy wedding he dreamed of.”

“Who knew about this?” asked the Chief, as surprised as Odelia.

“Why, only Johnny and myself, of course. And the lawyer.”

“Did Jasper know?” asked Odelia.

Bryony smiled.“Johnny wanted to keep it a secret. He was going to surprise Jasper with a romantic wedding proposal on their anniversary. Johnny had even recorded an entire album, as a wedding present.”

“So you knew about the recordings?” asked Odelia.

“Of course.” She sighed. “I’m sure they’ll be posthumously released now.”

“But what about all the… the escorts?” asked the Chief.

She made a throwaway gesture.“Oh, that. That was nothing, Chief. Johnny was a vigorous and very physical man who had certain needs, but those boys didn’t mean anything to him. That was just sex, nothing more.”

“But didn’t Jasper find it strange that the man who told him he loved him was… inviting all these other men into his bedroom to, um, do stuff?”

“Do stuff? Oh, you mean sex. You could ask me the same thing. He started this habit when we were still married. Jasper wasn’t the first.”

“And did you? Mind, I mean?” asked Odelia.

The woman thought for a moment.“It didn’t take me long to figure out that Johnny was a very complicated man, and that he was never going to be fully mine. Like the clich? goes, a star belongs to the whole world, and Johnny took that quite literally. I can’t deny that when I first became aware of his infidelities I was disappointed, even heartbroken, but he promised me it didn’t lessen how he felt about me, and I believed him. Johnny compared his nocturnal acrobatics to going to the gym. For him those boys were simply exercise, and he never formed an emotional attachment to them. Until…”

“Until Jasper,” Odelia supplied softly.

She nodded, and smiled a little wistfully.“Until Jasper. I lost Johnny, then. Before, he was simply experimenting, but with Jasper it was decided that I wasn’t going to be his life partner after all. It stung, I won’t deny that.”

“But why did he keep having these fleeting affairs?” asked the Chief.

“Like I said, Johnny was a star, Chief. I don’t expect you to understand. Being in a relationship with a genuine rock star is a very unsettling experience, while at the same time very exciting.” She paused. “I’ll miss him.”

“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” asked Odelia.

She shook her head.“I have absolutely no idea, Miss Poole. He was a very sweet man, and as far as I know he had no enemies. All I can think is that one of the boys he slept with had hoped to replace Jasper, and when he saw he didn’t stand a chance, took revenge in the worst possible way.”

The chief nodded.“My theory is that Jasper is the one who killed your husband, Mrs. Pistol. He didn’t like Johnny’s, um, appetite and snapped.”

“Oh, no,” said the woman adamantly. “Like I said, Johnny planned to marry Jasper. So there was absolutely no reason for Jasper to kill him.”

“But Jasper didn’t know that,” said the Chief. “You said so yourself.”

“Jasper didn’t know what?” suddenly a voice sounded behind them.

Chapter 19

“Oh, darling, there you are,” said Bryony. A dark-haired young woman had walked in and took a seat on the arm of her mother’s Chesterfield. “These people are from the police. I was just telling them that Jasper didn’t know Johnny wanted to marry him.”

“You knew about this?” asked the Chief.

“Of course she did,” said Bryony. “I have no secrets from my little girl.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Veronica. “I had a small errand to run in town. I came back as soon as I could.”

“Just a few quick questions if you don’t mind, Miss George,” said the Chief.

“Of course,” she said as she gave her mother a kiss on the top of her head.

Outside, the birds were chirping, and Odelia could see through the open French windows that Bryony’s garden was a regular floral delight. The woman noticed she was looking and said, “I just love flowers, don’t you, Miss Poole?”

“I do,” she admitted, “though I’m afraid I don’t have a green thumb like you obviously have. You have a beautiful home and a beautiful garden, Mrs. Pistol. I envy you.”

“Thanks. That’s why I prefer living in the country. Out here I can have a garden, while back in Manhattan I had to make do with my small balcony.”

“Oh, Mother, you had more than just a small balcony. You had an entire greenhouse on the roof. And possibly the biggest one in the whole city.”

“Yes, but that’s hardly the same as a garden, darling.”

“It was nice enough. To sit there on the roof, surrounded by all that floral splendor, while the city hummed on beneath us. It was simply heaven.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” asked Bryony.

The Chief cleared his throat at this point. All this talk about flowers and gardens clearly didn’t hold his interest. “Miss George, do you have any idea who might have wished your father harm?”

“I don’t,” she said. “My father was the kindest, sweetest man in the world. He might have had his vices, but he would never hurt a fly and was kind to anyone he met. I honestly can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.”

“What about… your ex-boyfriend? Donovan Rubb?”

A cloud passed over the woman’s face. “Donny is a mistake from my past, Chief, as I’m sure my mother told you. I haven’t seen him in a long time, and I hope to keep it that way. That said, I don’t think he’s capable of murder.”

“Did you know he was your father’s supplier of GHB?” asked Odelia.

“And that he supplied the fatal vial? The one that killed your father?”

“I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “But Donny would never kill anyone. He might be a weak man, and a criminal,” she quickly added when her mother gave her a stern look, “but he’s not a murderer. No way.”

“You never bumped into him when you went to visit your father?” asked the Chief.

“Never.” She stared down at her mother. “Do you think Daddy knew about Donny and only invited me over when he wasn’t there?”

“That would have been so typical of him,” said Bryony.

“Always trying to protect the ones he loved,” said Veronica, and bit her lip as her eyes grew moist. “He really was the most wonderful father.”

If Johnny cared so much about his daughter’s well-being, why didn’t he get a different drug dealer? Odelia thought. Maybe he only found out about Donovan Rubb after his daughter and ex-wife moved into town, and that’s why he tried to change dealers? It definitely was something to look into. Somehow she had a feeling that Rubb made for a much better suspect than Jasper. Though how the latter’s fingerprints had ended up on the vial was still a mystery.

“They fired that horrible Detective Kingsley this morning, darling,” said Bryony now. “Isn’t that the most wonderful news?”

The Chief shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and Odelia felt a rush of blood to her face. Even though she’d told herself not to bring up the business of the young woman’s lies, it was hard not to do so after this.

“That’s great, Mother,” said the young woman distractedly.

“I told the Chief how Detective Kingsley tried to kiss you,” Bryony went on. “And how you had no choice but to press charges against him.”

“Speaking of Detective Kingsley,” said Odelia, ignoring her uncle’s warning look. “What is your comment on the persistent rumors, Miss George?”

“What rumors?”

“The rumors that you and Donovan Rubb made some kind of deal with the NYPD. In exchange for the department dropping all charges against Mr. Rubb, you were asked to testify against Detective Kingsley.”

A flush had crept up the young woman’s face. “Who says so?”

“Well, word on the street is that Detective Kingsley saw something he wasn’t supposed to see and to make him go away trumped-up charges were fabricated and his reputation destroyed. Would you like to comment?”

“Oh, God,” groaned the Chief.

“Would I like to comment?” asked Veronica. “What kind of a police officer are you?”

“She’s not a police officer, darling,” said her mother. “She’s a consultant and Chief Alec’s niece.”

“A consultant? You sound like a reporter,” snapped Veronica.

“That’s because I am a reporter,” said Odelia.

The young woman’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And you’re present at a police interview, why, exactly?”

“That’s none of your business,” said Odelia, now also heating up.

“Well, my business with Detective Kingsley is none of yours, Miss Poole.” She frowned. “Poole… Odelia Poole? The reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette?”

“One and the same,” Odelia said brightly.

The woman’s teeth came together with a click. “I’m not saying another word. This is an outrage!”

“Just the way they do things in these small towns, darling,” said her mother, darting nervous glances at the Chief, whom she obviously held in high regard.

“Well, I’ll have to have a word with the mayor about this,” said Veronica.

“Just like you had a word with the Commissioner about ‘Donny’s’ arrest?” asked Odelia.

Veronica lifted her chin.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Someone told Commissioner Necker that Donovan Rubb had been arrested. He talked to Mayor Turner and the mayor leaned on my uncle to have Rubb released from prison and Detective Kingsley fired.”

“I don’t know where you get your information, Miss Poole—though I have my suspicions,” she added with a pointed look at Uncle Alec, “but I can assure you I had nothing to do with that. I imagine that if anyone told the Commissioner about Donny’s arrest it was Donny himself or his lawyer. Like I said, I haven’t been in touch with him since we broke up, and I filed a restraining order against him for good measure.”

“You do like your restraining orders, don’t you, Miss George?”

“That’s it,” she snapped, getting up. “I want you out of here right now!”

“Veronica, darling,” said her mother. “They’re the police.”

“He is, but she most certainly isn’t. You can stay,” she told the Chief. Then she turned to Odelia. “But I’m not saying another word as long as you are here.”

Damn, Odelia thought. Now she’d gone and done it. She just had to go and flap her gums about Chase, hadn’t she? Instead of playing it cool, she had to antagonize this woman and put all her cards on the table. But then she couldn’t stand injustice, and the lies this woman had told about Chase simply rubbed her the wrong way. If she’d lied about Chase, what else was she lying about? Her relationship with Rubb? Was she still secretly in touch with him?

“I think you better wait outside, Odelia, honey,” said the Chief now.

“Yes, please get out of my house, Miss Poole,” Veronica said, hands on her hips now, eyes blazing.

And as Odelia left the room, she heard Bryony say,“It is highly unorthodox to have a reporter present at a police interview, isn’t it, Chief?”

Yes, it was highly unorthodox, and if it was true that Veronica was still secretly seeing Rubb, she just might talk to the Commissioner again, who might talk to Mayor Turner, who might talk to Dan and force him to fire her, just like they’d leaned on her uncle to fire Chase.

Darn it. She’d just landed herself in a big ol’ heap of trouble, hadn’t she?

Chapter 20

Seated in her uncle’s squad car, she was waiting nervously until he came out. After what seemed like forever, he finally appeared on the doorstep and, after shaking hands with Bryony, ambled over and heaved his bulk into the driver’s seat.

“Well?” she asked

“Well, that was some show, honey.”

She groaned.“I know. I got carried away. But when I think of all the lies Veronica told I couldn’t just sit there and say nothing. God knows she’s put Chase through hell, and I’m sure she’s not telling the truth about Rubb. I’m pretty sure she’s still seeing that guy.”

He turned to her with a serious expression on his face.“Odelia, honey, she’s going to talk to the mayor, who apparently is a friend of the family.”

She felt her blood run cold.“So? I’m not a cop. He can’t do anything.”

“Knowing Mayor Turner, and how much he likes his celebrities, he’ll want to have a word with Dan. And me,” he said, turning his gaze to the windshield. “About allowing you to tag along on official police business.”

“You mean you might get into trouble because of me? I’m so sorry, uncle.”

“That’s all right. Mayor Turner isn’t my first mayor. I’ve had worse. But he might raise Cain with that editor of yours. Though knowing Dan he’ll probably flip the mayor the bird and tell him to take a hike.”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But Johnny was going to marry him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you are.”

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

Chapter 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brutus,” I told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Worse?” cried Harriet. “Oh, no!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Veronica!” hissed Harriet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And hours and hours,” said Dooley.

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

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

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

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

“Brutus, Bruce, same difference.”

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

“Shush,” said Brutus.

I reared up.“Don’t shush me, Brutus.”

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

“Something’s happening,” Brutus said.

“Very astute of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“All right. I’ll go,” I said.

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

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

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

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

“Not really,” said Dooley.

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

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

“Yes, he is.”

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

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

“Oh, I’ll say he’s different.”

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

He shrugged.“I am happy for you.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 23

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

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

What an utterly devious couple, she thought bitterly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is so exciting!” cried Harriet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotcha,” she muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is so d?j?-vu!” she groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

“Never!” Rubb shouted back.

“Back off, bitch!” Veronica screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

“I can and I will,” she promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What poison?” asked Veronica with a frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a lousy lawyer he was.”

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

“Will you retract your statement?”

“I will,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so,” he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 25

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

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

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

“Chase? Are you up there?”

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

“Your dad?” she guessed.

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

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

“Oh? What’s that?”

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

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

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

“Too late,” he said, surprising her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your dad… is he retired now?”

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

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Chase.”

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

“Oh, God, Chase. That’s horrible.”

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

“Where is she now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 26

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

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

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

“Cleveland? Where is Cleveland?” asked Harriet.

“Ohio,” I told her.

“Where’s Ohio?” asked Dooley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?” the voice bellowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And it was to die for,” said Dooley.

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

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

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

“Oh, God,” groaned Dooley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, not the oath!” Dooley cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wimp,” Clarice muttered.

“It hurts!”

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

“Sex?” I asked.

“Human sex,” she clarified.

“Yuck,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

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

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

Chapter 27

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

So now what? Start from scratch?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you never tempted yourself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And in case he remarried?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Move over to the window,” Bryony said.

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

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

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

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

“I can’t arrest you. I’m not a cop.”

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

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

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

“But why did you kill him?”

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

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

“I couldn’t. We signed a prenup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So these songs he’d recorded—”

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

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

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

“And get rid of Jasper in the process.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Clever,” said Odelia.

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

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

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

“I would never do that.”

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

Chapter 28

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” asked Chase.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go and say hi,” Chase said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Christ,” muttered the Commissioner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Malka. Let me handle this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Veronica George,” Odelia supplied helpfully.

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

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

“Poole. Odelia Poole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” asked the Commissioner.

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

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

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

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

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

“Chief Alec,” Odelia supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did what happen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’ll find someone else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is Chase staying?” asked Harriet eagerly.

“He is.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Brutus.

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

“Thank you, Max,” said Harriet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a baby!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. PURRFECT REVENGE

Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 1

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

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

“She looks cute,” Dooley said.

“Is she drooling?” Harriet asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a hamster!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s a radio clock?” asked Dooley.

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

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

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

“Who’s Justin?”

“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, God,” Dooley muttered.

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

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

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

“Oh, God,” I murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that racket?” she groaned.

“Sorry,” said Harriet.

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

“No, that’s the name of the song.”

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

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

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

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

“Who are the Kenspeckles?” asked Dooley.

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

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

“Why Hampton Cove?” I asked.

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

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

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

“LikeGame of Thrones,” said Brutus, nodding.

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

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

She stared at him.“Game? What game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dooley!” Harriet hissed.

“What? I would,” said Dooley.

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

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

“Oh, you mean an actual book?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither, honey bunch,” said Brutus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

Chapter 3

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

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

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

“Morning, Miss Poole.”

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

“There’s been a murder.”

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

“Shana Kenspeckle. They just found her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s been a murder, Marge.”

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

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

“But that’s horrible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go,” he said a little gruffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what happened?” she asked.

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

“That’s not good.”

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

“Al-Qaeda?”

“Not exactly.”

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

“That’s weird.”

“You said it.”

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

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

“Up for what?”

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

“You mean like Richard Castle?”

“Who?”

“Rick Castle? From the TV show?”

He grimaced.“Something like that.”

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

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

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

He raised an eyebrow.“Whatever?”

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

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

Oh, boy. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 4

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it’s a great little pad.”

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

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

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

“I could have sworn that was sarcasm.”

“Nope. Not sarcasm. Not me.”

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

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

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

“Nice.”

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

“Security is probably tight?”

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

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

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

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

“I thought I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what have we got?” Chase asked.

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

“Weird note?”

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

“So it’s not terrorists?”

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

Chase stared at the note.“Gotcha.”

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

“What about time of death?” asked Chase.

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

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

“In the bedroom.”

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

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

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

Abe shook his head slowly.“Nope.”

“Pretty gruesome,” said Chase.

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

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

“Who will?”

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

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

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

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

“They’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arf, arf, arf.

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

“Poole. Odelia Poole.”

Arf, arf, arf.

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

Arf, arf, arf.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last time Brutus fainted like a kitten,” Dooley muttered.

“I didn’t faint,” Brutus countered vehemently. “I… I simply pretended to faint. I was trying to create a diversion so you could escape with your lives.”

“Oh, that was so brave of you, Brutus,” Harriet gushed.

“Looked to me like you fainted at the sight of blood,” I said.

“Puh-lease,” he scoffed. “Me? Fainting at the sight of blood? As if!”

“Look, Clarice is perfectly harmless,” I said. “She’s just… eccentric.”

“Lady Gaga is eccentric, that cat is just… wacko,” Dooley said.

“Wacko or not, we need her,” I said, and stalked off in her direction.

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, but if we were going to find out who killed Shana, we could leave no stone unturned, even the wacko ones.

“Hey there, Clarice,” I said as pleasantly as I could.

She gave me a cursory glance, but kept on licking her paw.

“What a great day, huh?” I said nervously. “Sun is shining, sky’s blue…”

Still no response. I took a hesitant seat at the foot of the lounger. Clarice is a fount of information. She doesn’t owe allegiance to anyone and roams Hampton Cove day and night, looking for food. She’s familiar with every nook and cranny, and knows where all the bodies are buried since she’s the one who buried them. Critter bodies, that is. She doesn’t kill humans. I think.

“We, um, we’re trying to figure out who killed Shana Kenspeckle,” I continued. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen something, would you?”

The others had joined us, but were keeping a safe distance. Dooley was still covering his nose, just to make sure Clarice didn’t slice and dice it again. But Clarice simply ignored us, and kept on grooming herself. The pool was right next to the lounger, and the sun was reflected off the crystal clear water. It also reflected off Clarice’s claw and I gulped when I saw she was watching me intently. I was suddenly reminded of Azrael, the Smurfs’ mortal enemy.

I quickly looked away, and saw that the house was still a beehive of activity, with cops everywhere, doing whatever it was they were doing. Odelia was chatting with one of the Kenspeckle sisters, who was holding that nasty little mutt in her arms. For once the dog wasn’t yapping furiously.

“That dog should be put down,” Clarice suddenly said.

I was glad she finally spoke. I was even gladder it wasn’t me she wanted to be put down. “I couldn’t agree more. That dog is completely useless.”

“He’s been barking up a storm all morning, annoying the heck out of me.”

“That’s what he does. Yap, yap, yap. That dog has no off switch.”

Great. We were bonding over our shared dislike of the canine species.

“That masked killer should have taken his head instead of the woman’s.”

I stared at her.“You saw the killer?”

Her eyes narrowed.“What’s it to you?”

“I’m helping Odelia solve the murder.”

She shook her flea-bitten, patchy head.“You don’t get it, do you? When are you going to stop betraying your own species, Max? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that humans are not your friends?”

“Odelia isn’t like other humans. She takes care of us.”

“Odelia loves us,” said Dooley, overcoming his fear.

Clarice made a loud hissing sound, baring her teeth, and Dooley yelped and almost toppled into the pool.“Humans can’t be trusted,” she said. “They’re mean and vicious. They chop each other’s heads off!”

“You chop off the heads of mice and rats,” Harriet countered.

“That’s different. I would never hurt my own species.” Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Though I might be tempted to make an exception for you.”

Harriet gulped. Brutus, now that his mate was under attack, decided to step up.“Now look here, you… you cat. That is no way to talk to my girl.”

“Girl!” Clarice emitted a series of low grunts that I figured was her way of laughing. “Cats don’t have girlfriends! We don’t mate for life!”

“Well, some of us do,” Brutus said, winking at Harriet, who giggled.

“Well, then you happen to be an even bigger moron than I thought.”

Brutus puffed out his chest.“Hey. Who are you calling a moron?!”

“You,” she said. “You’ve lived with humans so long you’ve become one.”

I had the sinking feeling this conversation was getting away from me.“Look, all we want is to solve this murder,” I told her. “Is that so bad?”

“Yes, it is. By helping humans solve their murders you’re perpetuating the species. As far as I’m concerned, the more they murder each other the better. Soon there won’t be any humans left and this world will be ours again.”

“Good luck with that,” Dooley muttered.

I cleared my throat.“Be that as it may,” I said, “I still would like to know who killed Shana Kenspeckle. It would mean a great deal to me personally.”

“Why?”

“Um, because I’m a great fan of the Kenspeckles?”

“Of course you are. You’re a disgrace to the feline species, Max. You and your friends. You have sold your soul for a can of cat food and a pat on the head. It’s disgusting.” She hopped from the sun lounger and stalked off.

“Wait!” I cried. “What about a big, juicy piece of raw meat?!”

She halted in her tracks and looked back.“What about it?”

“I, um, I’ve got one that has your name on it.” No, I didn’t.

She licked her lips and I could see she was torn between her reluctance to help us out and her desire for a nice piece of raw meat.“Tell me more.”

I darted a pleading look at Brutus and he rolled his eyes. He knew just as well as me that I didn’t have any meat to offer. “Chicken wings,” he said reluctantly. “You can have one of my chicken wings.”

“Go on.”

He darted a dirty look at me.“And I’ll throw in a couple chicken necks.”

She stalked back to us.“Keep talking, fat boy.”

Brutus growled something at the back of his throat. I gave him a poke.

“Chicken liver,” he said. “Chase knows how much I like chicken liver.”

“I’m starting to like you more and more, fatso. Don’t stop.”

He was shaking his head now, giving me a death stare.

“Just think how happy Chase will be when I solve this murder,” I said.

“You solve this murder?I solve this murder,” he growled. He cut his eyes to Clarice. “Raw, blood-red steak. Straight from the best butcher in town.”

Clarice’s upper lip curled up into a feral snarl. “You’re now officially my new best friend. And where can I find all this good stuff?”

Brutus gave Clarice his address, which was actually Uncle Alec’s address, since Chase was still living with him. It was taking him some time to find a place of his own in town. Not that he minded. Chief Alec was a widower, so the men had the house to themselves and were reliving their bachelor days.

“You never told us you ate steak,” I told Brutus.

“Why would I share my steak with you, Max?” Brutus asked. “It’s not exactly as if you rolled out the welcome mat when I arrived in town.”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes.“That’s because you’ve been trying to take over this town from day one.”

He shrugged.“Just sharing my worldly wisdom with you local yokels.”

“Brutus has offered me some of his meat,” said Harriet. “It’s delish.”

“Of course it is,” Dooley murmured, directing a pleading look at the sky.

“So do you want to know about this murder or not?” asked Clarice.

“Yes, we do,” I said.

“I saw the murder,” said Clarice. “I saw the whole thing.”

“And?” Harriet asked excitedly. “Who did it?”

“No idea. The killer was covered in a long black robe.”

“Like Severus Snape?” asked Dooley, who was a big Harry Potter fan.

Clarice blinked.“I have no idea who that is. All I know is that I couldn’t see the killer’s face, as he or she was wearing a black mask of some kind.”

“Probably so they wouldn’t get blood all over them,” said Brutus. When we stared at him, he added, “What? Cutting off a head is a bloody business.”

I didn’t want to know how he knew. He, Uncle Alec and Chase probably watched too many horror movies. Or football games. They can get bloody.

“It was pretty gruesome,” Clarice said, which surprised me. A lot.

“Oh, I can imagine,” said Harriet commiseratingly. “Just tell us everything, Clarice. You’ll feel so much better. It’ll be like therapy.”

Clarice gave Harriet her best glare, but the prospect of raw meat was still more enticing than the inconvenience of having to put up with Harriet.“The killer first held some kind of rag to Shana and her husband’s faces, and then…” She closed her eyes, reliving the horror. “Then the sick bastard chopped off her head with a meat cleaver. I couldn’t watch. The worst part? That stupid dog just lay there. Instead of defending his master, he simply took it all in. Just goes to show dogs are the stupidest creatures on the planet.”

We all stared at Kane, who looked back at us, his tongue lolling. The moment he caught sight of five cats lounging by the pool, he blew a gasket. He jumped from Shayonne’s arms and came running straight at us.

Arf, arf, arf.

“Run!” I yelled.

Arf, arf, arf.

I set off in the direction of the garden, hoping to find a tree high enough to escape this hairy monster. But instead of coming after me, he produced the sweetest sound in the world: the sound of a dog squealing in pain. When I looked back, I saw Kane racing toward the house, his tail between his legs.

“What happened?” I asked.

In response, Clarice showed me her paw. There was blood on her claws.

“Let’s just say he won’t bother us again,” she said with a nasty grin.

Chapter 6

Odelia goggled at Shayonne.“Shana was sleeping with your husband?”

Shayonne nodded. She’d been momentarily distracted when Kane first jumped from her arms to chase Max and his friends, then raced into the house after getting his nose clawed by the ugliest cat Odelia had ever seen.

“Shana always had a craving for male attention. Even as a teen she tried to seduce every man she met. The fact that she was married to one of the greatest men alive apparently wasn’t enough for her. She had to seduce my man, too. And Dion is weak, so weak he fell for her fatal charm.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “That must have been a great shock.”

“It was,” said Shayonne. She blinked. “Can we do this again?”

“Come again?”

“No, do this again. The big reveal. I feel I can do better.”

Only now did Odelia notice the cameraman filming them.

“Um, what’s going on?” she asked, a little perplexed.

Shayonne held up a finger while she closed her eyes.“Just a second. I wanna get this right.” When she opened her eyes again, Odelia saw there were tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. “Shana craved men,” she said in a dramatic voice. “She was a natural born seductress who had to devour every male she met. The fact that she was married to one of the greatest singers of all time didn’t stop her from hitting on my man. And Dion fell for it.”

“Great take,” said the cameraman, chewing gum. He was a chunky guy with a pasty face, patches of red hair peeping from under his Lakers cap.

“I still feel like I’m missing something,” said Shayonne. “Oh, wait. I think I’ve got it.” Once again, she pressed tears from her eyes, and said in a deep, sultry voice, “Dion is a weak, deeply flawed individual. And he fell for my sister.”

“Love it,” said the cameraman. “That’s a keeper.”

“Thanks,” said Shayonne, wiping away her tears.

“How-how do you do that?” asked Odelia, fascinated.

“It’s a trick,” said Shayonne. “I think of dead puppies. Works every time.”

“Dead puppies. Huh. Interesting.”

“Yoo-hoo! Alejandro! Over here!”

She watched as a curly-haired man with olive skin walked up. He was the spitting image of Antonio Banderas, and oozed charm and male charisma.

“This is the director of the show,” Shayonne said. “Alejandro Salanova.” Odelia expected Shayonne to introduce her, but apparently she wasn’t important enough. “Have you filmed the body?” she asked, sounding more like a producer than a mourning sister.

“Not yet,” said Alejandro. “The cops won’t let us. They say it’s a crime scene and we’re not allowed inside until they remove the body.”

“Crap,” said Shayonne, then turned to Odelia. “You’re a cop, right? Can’t you arrange for Alejandro and his crew to shoot the body and the head?”

“I, um…” Odelia was lost for words. She’d known the Kenspeckles had a show to run, but she’d figured this tragedy would put a stop to all of that. “Aren’t you going to cancel the show now that your sister… is dead?”

Shayonne’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Cancel the show? Honey, this is the best thing that could have happened to us.”

“We’ll shoot right up in the ratings,” said Alejandro. He stuck up his index finger for emphasis. “Numero uno, baby!”

“We’ve been dropping in the ratings,” Shayonne explained. “It’s time to reclaim the top spot again, and this whole murder thing just might do it.”

She stared at the woman, wondering if she was a human or a robot.

Shayonne turned away.“Just muscle your way in there. Don’t take no for an answer. Get a few good shots of the body and the head before it’s too late.”

And with these words she stalked off to give further instructions to Alejandro and his crew. Odelia watched them walk into the house and realized her jaw was still on the floor. She hitched it up and walked over to the loungers to join Max and the cats. She plunked down, shaking her head.

“The killer was wearing some kind of long black robe,” said Max.

“Uh-huh,” she said, watching as the cameraman started filming inside the dining room, ignoring the protestations of several police officers nearby.

“Clarice saw the whole thing. She was right there when it happened.”

This time Max caught her attention.“She witnessed the murder?”

“Yep. She told us the whole story in exchange for a juicy steak. Why does Brutus get to eat steak and we don’t, Odelia? I like steak. We all do.”

“Meat is expensive, buddy. A reporter’s salary will only get you so far.”

He shook his head.“Of course. I knew that. I’m sorry. It’s just that…” He waved a paw. “That Brutus is driving me crazy. With his chicken wings and his chicken necks and his… his chicken liver.”

“Just like his master,” Odelia said. She watched as Chase and Alejandro went toe to toe, the veins in Chase’s neck pulsating. She sighed. “Though he doesn’t have a chicken neck.” She watched as he gestured with his muscular arms, threatening to wring the director’s neck. “Or chickenwings.”

This wasn’t going to end well, she thought, but then Shayonne stepped in, employing her secret weapon. Tears flowed from the reality star’s eyes as she implored Chase to allow Alejandro to shoot his ‘home movie’ so the family could forever cherish Shana’s memory. Dead puppies again. She could see Chase’s resolve weaken under the onslaught. Oh, man. This was brutal.

“Weird,” said Max, commenting on the scene.

“So weird,” she agreed. “So what did Clarice say?”

And as Max filled her in, she wondered how she was going to convey this information to Chase. They were now looking for a blood-soaked black robe and a meat cleaver. Only she couldn’t tell him. She stroked Max’s fur and he purred softly. “You’re getting raw meat tonight, buddy. You did good.”

“But I thought you said it was too expensive.”

“This is a special occasion. You just helped solve a murder.”

“Thanks, Odelia,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome.” They watched as Chase caved. Shalonda Kenspeckle had shown up. She was the spitting image of Shayonne, only her long, dark hair sported red highlights. She was rocking a clingy white top and a miniskirt. Very stylish. Now both sisters were crying their eyes out. There’s only so much a man can bear, and soon the cameraman was hoisting the camera onto his shoulder with a triumphant flourish and filming resumed.

Chase came stumbling out of the house, looking sandbagged.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked as he took a seat next to Odelia.

“Welcome to reality TV, Detective,” she said. “Try to keep up.”

Chapter 7

While Odelia and Chase tried to take control of the crime scene, Dooley, Harriet, Brutus and I were busy trying to figure out what else we could do to solve this murder case. Clarice had pulled one of her disappearing acts again and had vanished like a puff of smoke. Typical. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. And without even bothering to say goodbye.

“Are you really going to share your meat with her?” Harriet asked.

“Sure,” said Brutus. “At least until I solve this murder. The moment I catch the killer she can kiss her meat goodbye.” I noticed the big bully sounded a lot more macho now that Clarice wasn’t there to keep him in line.

“Why would Clarice kiss her meat goodbye?” asked Dooley. “Wouldn’t she just eat it?”

“It’s an expression,” I told him.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why kiss your meat goodbye?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet with a sigh.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up.

“Just go away.”

“Go away? Go where?”

“Anywhere. Just stop asking stupid questions.”

I patted my friend on the back.“It’s all right, Dooley. You know what they say. There are no stupid questions. Only stupid answers.”

“I didn’t know they said that.”

“Well, now you do.”

“We should split up,” Brutus said. “You and Dooley go this way. Harriet and I will go that way.” He was vaguely gesturing toward the house.

“Why?” asked Dooley, remembering there are no stupid questions.

“I’ve got a better chance cracking this case than you two losers. Isn’t that right, sugar pie?”

The sugar pie bit wasn’t directed at either me or Dooley. It was meant for Harriet, who fluttered her eyelashes. “Of course I agree, honey bunch. With your intellect and my charm I’m sure we’ll crack this case right open.”

I eyed Brutus suspiciously.“You’ve got a theory, haven’t you?”

“You bet your whiskers I do. I’m surprised you don’t. It’s staring you right in the face.”

Dooley looked around.“What’s staring us in the face?”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, rolling her eyes.

“Look, whatever you think you know, I’m Odelia’s cat, so I’m the one who helps her solve the murder. So you better tell me what you know.”

Brutus grinned.“Not this time, Maxie baby. This time we’re doing things different.” He tapped his chest, like a miniature King Kong. “I’m going to solve this case. And I’m going to make sure Odelia knows it.”

I shook my head.“You can’t do that. That’s not fair.”

Harriet shrugged.“I think it’s time you learned to share, Max. You’ve had Odelia all to yourself for far too long. It’s time to share her with Brutus.”

“But-but-but,” I sputtered. I caught Brutus’s eye and I could tell he was enjoying himself. For the first time since he arrived in town he had me licked.

“That’s not very nice of you,” said Dooley. “Odelia is Max’s human.”

Harriet walked up to him.“Odelia is our human, Dooley. She cares about all of us. You. Me. Max. And now Brutus. We’re one big happy family.”

She sold it so well I almost bought it. But Odelia knew all about Brutus’s habit of bossing us around. She’d never accept him into our home if I didn’t want to. So maybe I didn’t have to worry. Even if he solved the murder first, Odelia would still love me the most. Right?

I watched Brutus and Harriet stalk off.“You’re right, Dooley,” I said.

“I am?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s not very nice of Harriet to take Brutus’s side like that.”

“So she’s not our friend anymore?”

“She is, but she’s strayed from the path of true friendship.” I shook my head. “Somehow we’re going to have to show her the error of her ways.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I think you’re probably right.”

“Let’s just do what we do best and find ourselves a killer.”

“All right,” he said with a yawn. “But maybe we’ll take a nap first?”

“No napping,” I said decidedly. “First we catch the killer, then we nap.”

Dooley sighed.“Oh, all right. So where do we start?”

“We’ll just snoop around. Be the perfect spies.”

“Pity the Kenspeckles don’t have cats. Otherwise this would be a snap.”

We both stared at Kane, who was staring back at us from a safe distance. He’d lost his fighting spirit after his scrap with Clarice. Or maybe he was trying to come up with a new strategy to take us down.

We walked to the house, and the French Bulldog disappeared from sight. Whatever his strategy was, he wasn’t taking any chances. I saw that the director of the Kenspeckle show was instructing his cameraman about what to shoot next. The two sisters, Shayonne and Shalonda, having shot their scenes, were being fussed over by a makeup person. A stylist pecked at the hem of Shalonda’s skirt, which had silver sequins snaking down the sides.

“Must be nice to have someone fussing over you like that,” said Dooley.

“I doubt it. I for one wouldn’t want anyone telling me what to wear.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re a cat. You don’t wear anything.”

“You’re a cat too,” I reminded him. “You don’t wear anything either.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked surprised. “Pity.”

“Pity you don’t get to wear clothes? Why? I’ll bet it’s a big fuss.”

“Not if you’re a Kenspeckle. They have people fussing over the fuss.”

And we were right back where we started.“Why would you even want to wear clothes? Or have someone fussing over you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Just imagine having your own personal groomer. Someone to take care of your fur twenty-four seven. Or a personal dietician.”

He had a point. It sure would be nice to be pampered and spoiled and treated like a Kenspeckle. Not that Odelia doesn’t take good care of me, but she’s pretty pressed for time most of the time, with that job of hers and all.

Dooley sighed wistfully.“Wouldn’t it be nice to be human for a change?”

That was taking it too far.“No way! I would never want to be human.”

“Why not?”

“Uh-uh. Too much stress. Imagine having to work for a living, so you can pay for a roof over your head and food on your table. What a nightmare. And then there’s the IRS to deal with and the electric company and the insurance people. I think us cats have the best deal. All we do is sleep a lot,rub our human’s legs from time to time, look cute doing it and they pay the rent, the electric bill, the medical bill… All so we can focus on the important stuff.”

“Like sleeping and eating.”

“No. All of that frees up time to think.”

He stared at me.“Think? Think about what?”

“Well, this case for instance. Who killed Shana Kenspeckle.”

“Riiight.” It was obvious I lost him. Dooley is not exactly a big thinker. In fact, apart from eating and sleeping, I don’t think he’s got a lot on his mind. Except Harriet, of course. The cat’s obsessed with Harriet for some reason. No idea why. I would never get that obsessed over a female. It’s degrading.

We watched as the body of Shana was carted off on a stretcher. The coroner had done his bit and stood conferring with Chase. Odelia was keeping an eye on Shayonne and Shalonda who were still being prepped.

“They don’t show a lot of emotion between takes,” Dooley said.

“They probably reserve all of it for when the cameras are rolling.”

“Weird.”

“Totally.”

I caught a glimpse of Brutus and Harriet, sneaking into the house, and I nudged Dooley.“We better get a move on. Or else Brutus will beat us to it.”

He started.“Brutus is going to beat us?”

“Oh, Dooley.”

Chapter 8

“I’m starting to think they’re all guilty.”

“How do you figure?”

“Shayonne told me the murder is the best thing that could have happened to them.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose. “She said that?”

“Yep. The show’s been dropping in the ratings, and the murder will turn that around. Put them right back on top.”

“That’s just cold.”

“Which is why I think they might have set this up together.”

“You mean the whole family is in on this?”

“That’s exactly what I think. They needed to salvage their show so they decided to sacrifice one of them.” Now that she spoke the words out loud, it sounded a bit far-fetched. Still, it was a plausible theory. Fairly plausible.

“That’s just crazy, Poole.”

Or not.

“The Kenspeckles might be a little dysfunctional, but they’re not killers.”

She watched as the cameras started rolling again. On cue, Shayonne and Shalonda broke down in tears, clutching at each other for support.

“A little dysfunctional?” she asked.

“Well, maybe a lot dysfunctional. But that doesn’t make them killers.”

“So what’s next?” She had no idea how to conduct a police investigation. This was the first time she was on the inside, not on the outside looking in.

“I got a message from your uncle just before,” Chase said. “He’s cutting his vacation short and will be back tomorrow.”

“What? He was looking forward to that fishing trip.”

“The mayor is considering calling in the FBI so he needs to be here to convince him otherwise.”

She made a mental eye roll.“The FBI? This is a local investigation.”

“Apparently the Kenspeckles are considered a national treasure.”

She watched as Shayonne and Shalonda stood hamming it up in front of the camera and shook her head.“Some national treasure.”

He grinned.“There’s that sarcasm again.”

“Nope. Like I said, I don’t do sarcasm. Not me.”

“Let’s see if your uncle can persuade the mayor to keep the FBI out of this. First things first: we need to set up interviews with everyone involved.”

“What about the note?”

“What about it?”

“What does it say?”

He slipped his iPhone from his back pocket and showed her a snapshot of the note.“We fed it into Google Translate and it spat out this message.”

She took his phone and read out loud, “You deserve to die, Shana Kenspeckle. You are dog excrement. In fact you’re less than dog excrement. You’re the fly on dog excrement. In fact you’re the excrement from the fly on dog excrement. Or the ameba on the fly’s excrement.” It went on like this for a while. The final sentence read, “Hellfire will rain down on you and your filthy brood. This is just the beginning.” She handed him back his phone. “I guess the killer is not a big Kenspeckle fan.”

“The fact that these phrases came out in perfect English means the original message was written in English and then translated with Google Translate. Otherwise only gobbledygook would have come out. Which means—”

“This was a pretty feeble attempt to make it look like a terrorist attack.”

He smiled.“Which tells us the killer isn’t a professional.”

She wondered whether to tell him they were looking for a blood-splattered black robe and mask. But since she couldn’t tell him about the robe without revealing her secret, she decided to keep mum. It didn’t matter anyway, as Clarice hadn’t gotten a look at the killer’s face.

Chase headed for the bedroom and she followed him. She stared down at the bed. The coroner’s people had stripped the sheets for evidence but had left the stained mattress. “The killer was smart,” Chase said. “Abe found traces of chloroform in all the bedrooms. All the Kenspeckles were drugged.”

“What about the film crew?”

“Nope. Not a trace. But since they’re staying at the guest house and aren’t allowed in the main house when shooting wraps that wasn’t necessary.”

“They’re not allowed inside the house?”

“The Kenspeckles have strict rules about it. They cherish their privacy.”

“Except when they don’t. Like when they share every private moment with a worldwide audience.”

He smiled.“Ah, but they only show you what they want you to see.”

She nodded.“So did you check the rooms for prints?” Dumb question. The guy was a bonafide detective. And the killer had probably worn gloves.

“Well, we tried, but the Kenspeckles gave us a lot of lip. Any normal family would have canceled their trip, moved to a hotel until they could catch a flight home, and given us free reign to search the place top to bottom. But the sisters are adamant to stay here and finish the shoot.”

“They’re giving you a hard time.”

“They sure are. And I don’t even know why. It’s almost as if they don’t want us to find the killer.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he said, “And don’t give me that ‘The whole family is in on this’ nonsense, Poole.”

She quickly closed her mouth again. No, that was just a crazy theory.

She glanced at the window, where Clarice must have been watching the killer. Chills ran down her spine. What a horrible scene to watch. A thought occurred to her.“The killer must have known his way around the place.”

Chase nodded, a sparkle in his eye.“Uh-huh.”

“He also knew the film crew would never set foot inside the house after filming was finished for the day. And he also had access to the house.”

“Go on.”

She smiled.“This was an inside job. The killer was either a family member or security personnel. They were the only ones with access.”

“Your uncle Alec was right,” he said with a grin. “You’re pretty astute.”

“Watch me. I’ll catch this killer before you can say ‘fly excrement.’”

“Fly excrement.”

“Smart-ass.”

Chapter 9

Dooley and I searched around for the best vantage point. It had to be clean and comfy, and it had to be high enough so we could have a great view. I caught sight of a fabulous beige crocodile couch. I felt bad for the crocodiles that had lost life and hide, but the couch was easily the best spot in the room, affording 360 vision and a soft, flat surface. It was exactly what we needed. I gave Dooley a nudge and we both hopped up onto the couch, clambered over about a million embroidered throw pillows and settled on the head rest.

All the main principals were gathered on the deck for an impromptu meeting, and Dooley and I settled in to watch. Don’t look so shocked. We’re cats. Lying around and spying on humans is what we do. It had also crossed my mind that there was probably some yummy food to be found in this place, and from here we could look straight into the kitchen. I was pretty sure Kane got the best food money could buy, and I wanted me some of that.

Us cats might not like dogs, but we like to steal their food just fine.

“Look, Max,” said Dooley, pointing to the kitchen. Brutus was chasing Kane, and the dog was doing his utmost to stay out of his clutches.

“Looks like Brutus is trying to talk to Kane,” I said lazily. After all this traipsing around I was starting to feel the strain, and I was ready for a nap. I know I’d told Dooley we’d nap once we caught the killer, but the couch was so comfy, and the sun on our furs so nice and warm, I was feeling drowsy.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” said Dooley with a cavernous yawn.

“Probably something to do with his so-called theory.”

Brutus always has theories, usually pretty far-fetched. We had another murder not so long ago, when a famous eighties pop singer was killed. Brutus thought things through and came up with the theory that the guy had been killed by a conspiracy of boy toys. He probably thought a confederacy of French Bulldogs had killed Shana Kenspeckle and Kane was the ring leader.

“I don’t think we need to worry about Brutus cracking this case,” I said.

I returned my attention to the Kenspeckles, who were concluding their meeting. Shayonne was there, and Shalonda, and of course Shayonne’s husband Dion, and Shana’s husband Damien LeWood. They were discussing things with Alejandro Salanova, the director, and some of the other crew members. I also saw a bodyguard hovering nearby, pressing a finger to his ear from time to time and looking decidedly shifty-eyed. A barber had had fun with his facial hair, which ran in three parallel lines from his lips to his ears, where it morphed into a butter-colored buzzcut, and he was rocking golden hoops. He reminded me of the Genie in Disney’s Aladdin, without the blue body paint. And the grin. This guy had never cracked a smile in his life.

“I think they’re going to start filming again,” said Dooley.

“Well, they have to strike while the iron is hot, I suppose,” I said. Everybody would want to know what happened, and who better to inform them than the Kenspeckles themselves? Regular families would probably mourn in silence. The Kenspeckles filmed another episode of their show.

“It’s that old saying,” said Dooley. “The show must move on.”

“Go on.”

“But I just got here.”

“No, I mean the show.”

“What about it?”

“The show must go on.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said… Forget about it.”

“Forget about the show?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dooley.”

Once again, Brutus came shooting past us, chasing Kane, who was now running for his life. He probably thought Brutus was going to cut him, like Clarice had. Brutus took a breather, glaring up at us.“Do I have to do all the work around here? Why don’t you two lazy bums give me a paw already?”

“You said you wanted to split up, remember? Split up into teams.”

He made a throwaway gesture with his paw.“Gah. Fuggedaboutit.”

We watched him stalk off again, muttering something under his breath. It didn’t sound very friendly. I didn’t care. It was fun to watch Brutus run around like a headless chicken. I’d never seen a cat chase a dog before, and the sight was both disturbing and highly entertaining.

Odelia and Chase came walking into the living room and Odelia gave us a wink. I tried to wink back, but cat’s eyes aren’t made for winking, so it probably came off weird. She got the message, though: we were on the case.

Just then, a person pointing a camera came crashing through the privacy hedge lining the deck and pool area. He looked a little crazed and hyped up.

“Paparazzi alert,” I told Dooley.

“Oh, is that a paparazzi?” he asked, interested.

“Paparazzo. They only call them paparazzi when they travel in packs.”

The moment the photog caught sight of the Kenspeckle sisters, he started clicking his camera, firing off questions like a machine gun toting kook.

“Shayonne! Shayonne! Where were you when your sister was killed?!”

Highly inappropriate, I felt. Genie the Bodyguard felt the same way, for he tried to swat the pap like a bug. The photographer dove under Genie’s massive arm and just kept shooting like the nasty little shutterbug he was.

“Is it true that Shana was sleeping with your husband, Shayonne?!”

The paparazzo narrowly avoided a flying tackle and darted away in the direction of the pool, the bodyguard close on his heel and moving in.

“Is this the end of the Kenspeckles?! The final nail in your coffin?!”

“Wow. That’s just plain mean,” said Dooley.

We watched the bodyguard zoom in on the pap. Amazingly, the scrawny pap kept on firing his camera. Courage under fire. Or the smell of money.

“For a guy built like a freight train that bodyguard sure moves fast,” Dooley said.

“I think he’s going to catch him. I think he’s going to catch him and sit on his head and squash him like a melon.”

But then the reporter lost his footing and splashed headfirst into the pool.

“Aw,” both Dooley and I said. Talk about a downer ending.

I was starting to feel like those two old guys onThe Muppet Show, Statler and Waldorf, keeping up a running commentary. And I was starting to understand the appeal of the Kenspeckles. They sure knew how to put on a good show. You never knew what was going to happen next.

The bodyguard plucked the photog from the pool and dragged him ashore. He looked like a drowned chicken, spluttering and yelling his head off. He was still holding on to his camera, though, and was clicking away.

“You have to hand it to him,” Dooley said. “He’s one dedicated dude.”

The bodyguard started frogmarching the intruder off the premises. Just then, Kane came racing past, followed by a panting Brutus. They slipped between the bodyguard’s feet, and he toppled into the pool, dragging the paparazzo with him, making a big splash. The spray spattered all the way to Shayonne and Shalonda Kenspeckle, who shouted their annoyance. They used words I’d never heard before. Very original. And very colorful.

“Man, they’ve got dirty mouths,” said Dooley, looking shocked.

“They’ll probably cut that from the show. Have to keep it PG.”

The bodyguard and the paparazzo came splashing from the pool, both soaking wet, the bodyguard’s face a thundercloud. The man was seriously pissed. Just then, more paparazzi came crashing through the boxwood hedge, and suddenly we were at a full-blown red-carpet event, cameras clicking and people shouting and clamoring for attention. More bodyguards came rushing to the scene, trying to catch the out-of-control paps.

“This is so much fun!” Dooley cried.

There were paparazzi everywhere, chased by burly rent-a-cops. A few more paps ended up in the pool while others were pinned to the deck. In the middle of all this pandemonium, Brutus was still chasing Kane, though the chase had slowed down to a crawl as both were running out of gas now.

“I’m starting to like the Kenspeckles,” I said. “Great entertainment value.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Dooley. “Ouch.” The exclamation was in reference to more paparazzi tripping over Brutus and Kane. They were tackling more paps than the bodyguards were. Maybe the Kenspeckles should appoint Brutus to head up their security team. He was doing some serious damage.

“Looks like Brutus is scoring one for the home team,” I said.

Harriet had jumped up on the couch and was watching the scene intently.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your boyfriend?” Dooley asked a little bitterly.

I didn’t blame him. Us cats might not be on Facebook but that doesn’t mean we like it when someone unfriends us the way Harriet had done.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Harriet said, shaking her head sadly. “He’s got this cockamamie theory about the murder, and he’s adamant that Kane is going to supply him with the missing link to the killer.”

“What’s his theory?” I asked.

She hesitated, loyalty to her boyfriend warring with her desire to unburden her soul. Finally the need to confide in someone won out.“He thinks Shana was killed by a giant dog who bit her head off.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. I hadn’t expected this.

“A giant dog?” asked Dooley. “You mean like a big, humongous dog?”

She frowned at him.“Yeah, a gigantic dog who bit her head off and spit it out again when he discovered he didn’t like the taste of human head after all.”

“That’s crazy,” Dooley said. “The Kenspeckles don’t have a giant dog.”

I stared at Dooley.“Is that what you think is crazy here? What about the idea that dogs bite people’s heads off?”

“Well, don’t they?” he asked.

“Of course they don’t! It’s a physical impossibility!”

“But what if they’re big enough? Like Cujo?”

“Cujo never bit anybody’s head off! No dog can bite someone’s head off!”

“Well, Brutus is convinced they can,” said Harriet. “He’s convinced the Kenspeckles have a pack of vicious dogs running around. He’s seen them on one of those Bravo shows. Huge and ferocious creatures. All the big-name celebrities keep them nowadays. To protect themselves from paparazzi and kidnappers and stalkers. He thinks one of the dogs went rogue. Got a taste for human blood and bit Shana’s head clean off. And now the Kenspeckles are trying to cover it up. They’re hiding the dog somewhere in this house. He thinks Kane knows where, and he’s trying to get him to give up thelocation.”

“To get him to roll over on his monster dog friend?” I asked.

She nodded, chewing her lip.“He says he needs to break Kane. Make him squeal on his canine brother. Says it’s the only way to get the truth.”

“But what about Clarice’s statement? What about the masked killer and the big-ass meat cleaver?” I asked, exasperated.

“Brutus says Clarice can’t be trusted. She’s nuts and will say whatever to get attention. And his meat. She’ll do anything for a slice of filet mignon.”

“Your boyfriend is crazy,” Dooley said. “Absolutely batshit crazy.”

Well, I wouldn’t have put it so strongly, but basically he was right.

“At least we don’t have to worry about Brutus getting in good with Odelia,” I said. “If he tries to sell her his mad dog theory she’ll just laugh.”

“Oh, cut it out, Max,” said Harriet, giving me an angry look.

“Cut out what? What are you talking about?”

“Cut out the bullying. You’ve been mean to Brutus from the start.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Me? Mean to him?”

“Yes, you are a mean cat and a bully. Can’t you see that Brutus wants to fit in? To be welcomed into the community? He’s doing his best and you keep pushing him away. I think it’s very selfish of you, Max. You too, Dooley.”

This was just crazy talk.“Look, he’s the one who started bossing us around from the moment he set foot in this town.”

“Can’t you see through that, Max? That’s just a pose. Deep down, Brutus is a gentle, sensitive soul. All he wants is to be loved and accepted the way he is.” She sighed as we all watched Brutus chasing Kane around the pool.

“Come back here, you little weasel!” he was shouting. “Wait till I get my claws on you, you stupid mutt!”

Harriet was right. A gentle and sensitive soul. No doubt about it.

More and more paparazzi were splashing in the pool, tripped up by Brutus and Kane, and had to be fished out by bodyguards. Who knew so many paps couldn’t swim? Brutus was doing the Kenspeckles a big favor.

“I don’t see it,” said Dooley. “I don’t see the sensitive side in Brutus.”

“Well, he’s got one,” Harriet snapped. “You’re not looking hard enough.”

Dooley opened his mouth to retort. When he caught Harriet’s eye he thought better of it and closed it again. There are some battles you can’t win.

“Brutus is the sweetest cat you can imagine,” she said. “A real gentlecat.”

“I’m going to cut you, you ugly mongrel!” the gentlecat was screaming. “I’m going to cut you up so bad even your own mother won’t recognize you!”

“The only reason he behaves like this is because…” She sighed, and fixed me with an accusatory look. “Because he wants to impress you, Max.”

“Impress me!” I cried.

“Of course. Why else do you think he keeps challenging you? Secretly Brutus looks up to you. You’re his hero. All he wants is to be like you.”

I shook my head.“This is just… I can’t even…”

“Look at yourself, Max. You’ve got it all! You’ve got the best human in Hampton Cove. You’ve got a great home. Great friends. You’re even an ace detective. You’ve got it all.” She gave me a pleading look. “Is it so hard to believe Brutus wants to be a part of that? That he wants to be your friend?”

“Yes, it’s very hard to believe,” Dooley said.

“Well, it’s the truth,” she snapped. “And if you can’t see that, then who’s the bully here?” She stalked away, tail high. We both stared after her.

“You don’t believe a word she said, do you?” Dooley asked. “All that talk about Brutus just wanting to be your friend? That’s just a bunch of hooey.”

“Of course I don’t,” I said. “She loves the cat. She’ll believe anything.”

We watched Harriet chasing Brutus chasing Kane for a while.

“Do you think this evil dog theory holds water, Max?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I believe Clarice. Whoever killed Shana was wearing a black robe and a mask, and whoever was beneath that robe definitely wasn’t a killer dog. Unless dogs can walk on their hind legs and handle a meat cleaver.” Before Dooley could reply, I quickly added, “Which they can’t.”

The Kenspeckles were also staring at the scene, commenting freely, while the cameraman filmed the whole thing. This was going to be the gag reel for their next show. Some comic relief after the horror of the murder.

But even as the circus was in full swing, I didn’t forget for one moment that one of these people was a killer. Was it Shayonne? Shalonda? Dion Dread? Damien LeWood? I saw that both Odelia and Chase were watching the foursome intently, and I knew they were wondering the same thing.

Outside, the bodyguards snatched up the last of the paparazzi, escorting them off the premises. Kane, desperate to escape Brutus, had thought of nothing better than to jump into the pool, right on top of the head of the head bodyguard, who was wrestling three paparazzi. Brutus was stumped. He wanted to get a hold of Kane, but he drew the line at jumping into the pool. Us cats don’t like to swim. It’s not that we can’t swim—that’s a common misconception. It’s just that we prefer not to. It’s all because of our furry coats. We swell up like a sponge. It just makes us look ridiculous.

So Brutus just sat there, staring daggers at Kane, while Kane sat on top of the bodyguard’s head, making faces at Brutus. Classic standoff.

“Well, looks like the show’s over,” said Dooley, sounding disappointed.

“Au contraire,” I said. “It’s just getting started.”

Chapter 10

The last of the paparazzi had been caught and thrown off the property, but not before Shayonne and Shalonda had hit their marks and struck their poses, giving them what they came for. You don’t get to be in the world’s top-rated reality show without giving back to the fans. Kane the dog had been fished from the pool, and it was time to finally sit down for the interview.

The sisters refused to be interviewed separately and Chase decided not to fight them on this. What he did fight them on was their expressed desire that the entire interview was filmed for their show. What was more, they wanted the murder investigation taped, Chase and Odelia included for this special.

They’d even get screen credit and SAG minimum, whatever that was.

Chase vehemently refused, and so did Odelia, though less vehemently. She wouldn’t mind being on national TV. Her mom would freak if she saw her daughter strutting her stuff amongst all these celebs. But Chase muttered something about making a mockery of the investigation and that was that.

“Not gonna happen,” were his exact words, and no matter how much the sisters insisted, even turning on the waterworks again, this time he stood his ground. He obviously had no aspirations to be a celebrity cop.

Shalonda tossed her long hair.“You know what we’ll do, Shayonne?”

“What?”

“We’ll shoot a confessional. Tell our viewers all about the investigation. They can’t stop us from doing that, can they?”

Both sisters gave Chase an inquisitive look, but he just shook his head.

The sisters had chosen the pergola for the interview. The wooden structure, covered with vines and honeysuckle, stood fifty yards from the house, at the bottom of the garden, providing a nice view of the Atlantic Ocean. Dappled sunlight slanted down through the rafters, and as far as Odelia could see there were no paparazzi in sight. What she did see was the cameraman sneaking around, trying to get the best view of the sisters.

She decided not to tell Chase. This was a fight they couldn’t win.

The Kenspeckles made themselves comfortable on the wicker furniture, making sure the camera caught them from their best angle. Even during a police interview they were concerned about how they looked on camera.

In a surprising shift of protocol, Chase had decided to allow Odelia to take the lead in the interview. Maybe he figured Shayonne and Shalonda would open up to her more than to him. More so because she didn’t look anything like a cop. In fact she might have featured on the show herself.

“Did Shana have any enemies?” she asked, opening the interview.

“Oh, no,” Shalonda said immediately. “Shana was the most beloved person on earth. Literally everyone adored her. I mean, literally every single person on earth loved Shana to bits. I’m not kidding. I know this for a fact.”

“Yeah, Shana was a sweetheart,” Shayonne agreed. “She had the biggest heart. You could never hope to have a sweeter sister than her.” A tear stole down her cheek, and Shalonda reached out a hand and gave hers a squeeze.

Faced with tragedy, the Kenspeckle sisters offered a united front. It was touching, Odelia thought. Until she saw movement from the corner of her eye, and noticed the camera recording every last second of the teary scene.

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to cause her harm?”

Shayonne hesitated.“Well, there was this one incident with one of her ex-boyfriends, Robin Masters. When Shana got engaged to Damien, he made a big scene. I mean, the guy completely lost it. Went absolutely ballistic.”

“Oh, that’s right. Wasn’t that in season ten? Or was it eleven? I forget.”

“It was so horrible,” said Shayonne. “Robin drove up to the house and threatened to torch the place. Camille—that’s our mother, Camille Kenspeckle—had to intervene and calm him down. The cops got involved, and Shana had to file a restraining order against the guy. I was terrified.”

“He wasn’t the only one. There have been others. Other ex-boyfriends. But they’re usually pretty amenable once they get their five minutes of fame.”

“You mean fifteen minutes of fame,” Odelia said.

“What’s that, honey?” asked Shalonda. “You have to speak up, for the—”

But before she could say‘microphone,’ Shayonne had squeezed her hand.

“The expression is fifteen minutes of fame, not five,” Odelia explained.

“Oh, but these guys only get five,” said Shalonda. “We’re the stars of the show. Bit players like Robin Masters don’t get to steal our limelights.”

“They sure don’t,” Shayonne agreed. “We worked too damn hard. No boyfriend gets first billing. Five minutes and that’s it. It’s all in the contract.”

“Does everybody sign a contract?” asked Odelia.

“Of course,” said Shayonne. “Girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives… Camille takes care of all of that. This is a business, honey. We need to protect the Kenspeckle brand. Nobody is going to come and mess with our brand.”

“And what is that brand, exactly?” Chase asked, unable to control himself.

“Beauty and grace,” said Shayonne instantly, as if she’d rehearsed the phrase, which she probably had.

“Wealth and power,” added Shalonda.

“Style and beauty.”

“I think you said beauty twice, honey,” said Shalonda.

“That’s because it’s important. The Kenspeckle brand is all about beauty.”

“And selfies,” Odelia said with a smile.

The two sisters laughed.“You said it, girl,” said Shalonda.

“Wasn’t Shana called the queen of selfies?” asked Odelia. “Maybe her habit of portraying her wealth and beauty made some people feel jealous?”

“Oh, but everybody was jealous of her,” Shayonne confirmed. “Shana was so gorgeous it was hard not to feel jealous. She was the center of attention wherever she went. I’ll admit even I felt jealous of her from time to time.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t walk into a room without getting everyone to turn.”

“Remember my wedding? How she upstaged me in front of everybody? That dress. That hair. She looked like she was the one getting married.”

“I hated her for that,” said Shalonda.

“Me too. Or that time when I was sixteen, going out on my first date and she was flirting with my date? The guy didn’t even look at me after that!”

“Shana was an attention whore, no doubt about it,” said Shalonda. “And we all loved her for it,” she quickly added when she saw Chase frown.

“She was the most popular star in the family, wasn’t she?” asked Odelia.

The two sisters stared at her, momentarily lost for words. Then Shayonne asked,“Who the hell told you that?”

“That’s not true,” Shalonda chimed in.

“We’re all stars. Just look at our contracts. We all get star credit.”

“There’s no denying Shana got the most attention,” said Chase. “She got the endorsement deals, the paid appearances… Even her app is a bestseller.”

Wow. Chase had obviously done his homework.

“Those are just rumors,” Shayonne said, sitting up.

“Filthy lies,” Shalonda chimed in, also sitting up.

“We all share equal billing on our show. There are no prima donnas.”

“Still,” Chase insisted. “You just said you hated your sister because she upstaged you, and tried to steal your boyfriends.”

“Oh, she did,” said Shayonne, nodding.

“She most definitely did,” Shalonda agreed.

“Which doesn’t mean we didn’t love her.”

“Oh, yeah. We loved her to pieces.”

“Tiny, little pieces,” said Shayonne, holding her nails millimeters apart.

“You told me that Shana was sleeping with your husband?” Odelia asked.

“You told her that?” asked Shalonda, turning to her sister. “What about putting up a united front for the outside world, like Camille told us to? Family first, Shayonne. Family always comes first.”

“This is a police investigation,” Chase reminded her. “You can speak freely. Nothing you say will go beyond Miss Poole and myself at this point.”

“All we want is to catch your sister’s killer,” Odelia assured them.

“Yes, I told her,” Shayonne said. “Because it’s true. Shana was sleeping with Dion. She told me so herself. She came clean to me last week.”

“I don’t believe this,” Shalonda said, shaking her head. Whether she didn’t believe that Shana had been sleeping with Dion or that her sister was confiding in the police wasn’t immediately clear. Odelia suspected the latter.

“Well, she was!” Shayonne exclaimed. “She finally confessed. Told me she couldn’t live with the lie anymore. She also told me she was done with Dion.”

“And how did you react?” asked Chase.

“I was stunned. Completely stunned. And then I dumped Dion’s ass.”

Odelia frowned.“So why is Dion still here?”

“Because Shana confessed to me off camera, and I broke up with Dion off camera. We needed to do it again, on camera, which is why we all flew out here, because this was going to be the highlight of the season. We were going to end on a big cliffhanger, with my relationship with Shana and my marriage in the balance.” She shook her head. “You obviously still have a lot to learn about TV, honey. This all happened already, and now we have to recreate it.”

“So Dion was only hanging around until you filmed the bit about the breakup?” asked Chase.

“Well, duh. We were going to milk this thing for all we could get.”

“What about Dion? How did he feel about this situation?” Odelia asked.

“Well, he’s not too happy,” said Shayonne. “He’s off the show, isn’t he?”

“You snooze, you lose,” said Shalonda.

“I don’t think that’s correct, honey,” said Shayonne. “More like, you cheat, you lose.”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it. I like mine better.”

“What it all comes down to, Detective,” said Shayonne, touching Chase’s knee, “is that when you cheat on a Kenspeckle you’re out on your ass.”

“Amen to that,” said Shalonda.

Odelia shared a glance with Chase. This was definitely motivation for murder. If Dion was going to get kicked off the show, he stood to lose a lot of money. He might have wanted to plot revenge against Shana. Maybe even hoped that the murder would sink the entire show.

“What about Damien?” asked Chase.

Shayonne swatted away a fly.“What about him?”

“Did he know about Shana and Dion?”

“Of course he did. We don’t keep secrets in this family. Damien knew all about his wife’s infidelities.”

“Infidelities?” asked Odelia. “You mean this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Nope,” said Shayonne. “Now don’t get me wrong. Shana was the sweetest person in the world.”

“So sweet.”

“And I loved her, like, a lot.”

“A whole lot.”

“But let’s not kid ourselves. She was a skank.”

“They didn’t get any skankier than Shana.”

“She never met a guy she didn’t want to sleep with and who didn’t want to sleep with her.” She shrugged. “That’s the way she was. Take it or leave it.”

“Damien knew that going in,” said Shalonda. “In fact he sleeps around just as much as she does. They have a, quote unquote, arrangement.”

“So he was fine with this Dion situation?” Odelia asked.

The two sisters shared a look.“Well, fine would be overstating it,” said Shayonne.

“Yeah, he and Dion got into a big fight about it the other night.”

“They knocked the shit out of each other and then bonded over a couple of beers and hung out at the pool all night. It was crazy.”

“Dion is crazy.”

“Hey. Who you calling crazy? That’s my husband you’re talking about.”

“Ex-husband,” Shalonda specified.

“He’s not my ex-husband. I haven’t divorced him yet.”

Shalonda stared at her sister.“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping him, are you? After what he did to you?”

“But I still love him, honey. And maybe now that Shana’s gone we can start over.”

“You’re officially crazy. That man never treated you right.”

“He has. And anyway, better to have a man than no man at all.”

Shalonda’s eyebrows rose and she planted a hand on her hip. “Don’t hold back, honey. Just throw it all out there, why don’t you?”

“I’m saying you don’t get to give me marriage advice. I’m only going to take marriage advice from a person who’s in a successful marriage. And that person obviously isn’t you.”

“I would have had a successful marriage if Shana hadn’t stolen my man.”

“She wouldn’t have stolen your man if he wasn’t ready to be stolen.”

“Wait, you also had a man stolen from you by Shana?” Odelia asked. She was feeling as if she was on an episode of the Kenspeckles. Which she was.

“Of course. Didn’t you listen to a word we said? Shana stole all of our men. That’s what she did. She was a man-stealer.”

Chase shook his head and jotted something down in his notebook. It wasn’t hard to figure out what. Both Shalonda and Shayonne had a motive for murder. Both of them had had their men stolen by their sister.

“Did you notice anything about the intruder last night?” Odelia asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Not a thing,” said Shayonne. “I slept like a baby. Though when I woke up I was feeling nauseous. But I already told Detective Kingsley about that.”

“You were drugged,” Chase confirmed. “Both of you were.”

“Yeah, I was feeling nauseous too,” said Shalonda. “I thought I was pregnant.”

Both sisters laughed.“Good one, Shalonda,” said Shayonne.

“What about that?” Odelia asked.

Shalonda blinked.“What about what?”

“Any plans to add a new generation to the Kenspeckle family?”

“Well, Dion and I were planning our first baby,” said Shayonne.

“But that’s off now, right?” asked Shalonda. When her sister didn’t respond, she repeated emphatically, “I said, that’s off now. Right?”

Shayonne shrugged.

Shalonda’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Oh. My. God. You’re not seriously thinking to procreate with that man, are you? He cheated on you with your own sister!”

“That won’t happen again,” said Shayonne. “He promised.”

“Of course it won’t happen again! Shana is dead. It’s physically impossible for that to happen again. That don’t mean he won’t do it with some other skank.”

“He’s a good person,” Shayonne insisted. “And it’s not because he tripped up once that he should be punished for the rest of his life. He deserves a second chance and I am possibly willing to give him one. Maybe. I’m still thinking.”

“Think again! Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“That’s not true. He promised he wouldn’t do it again and I believe him.”

Shalonda raised her eyes to the rafters, as if to draw strength from the honeysuckle.“I’m telling Camille,” she finally declared. “I’m so telling her.”

Odelia noticed how the cameraman had snuck up on them, and was so caught up in the dramatic scene that he’d dropped all pretenses and was openly filming. This was going to be another cliffhanger, she thought.

“So you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, apart from the fact that you were both feeling nauseous this morning?” asked Chase, in a heroic effort to take back control of the interview.

“No, Detective,” said Shayonne. “I was out like a light all night.”

“Me too.”

“You are going to catch the killer, right?” asked Shayonne.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to find him, ma’am,” said Chase. Then he caught sight of the cameraman and cursed loudly.

The cameraman eyed him sheepishly.“Just doing my job, bub.”

“Get out of my face,” Chase said. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Better get used to it,” Odelia whispered. “You’re a TV detective now.”

“Thanks, ladies,” he said, ignoring her remark. “That’s all for now.”

“And it’s a wrap,” Shayonne cried. “Tell me you got all that?”

The cameraman gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs-up.

“You did great, Detective,” Shalonda said. “You’re a natural.”

“I don’t care,” he said wearily. “I just want to catch your sister’s killer.”

“Oh, but so do we,” said Shayonne.

“Yeah, that’s all we care about,” said Shalonda. “Now do you think we could do this again, Detective? Only this time I’ll sit there and you sit here.”

Chase sighed.“Just… shoot me already. Not you,” he said when the cameraman pointed his camera at him. “You shoot me and I’ll shoot you.”

Yep, this was shaping up to be a pretty interesting murder investigation.

Chapter 11

While Odelia and Chase went off to interview the two leading ladies of Cirque du Kenspeckle, Dooley and I decided to abandon our perch and do some more snooping around. Earn our kibble, if you know what I mean.

The big advantage of being a cat is that we’re pretty much invisible. We can stalk around and people will simply pat our heads and go on discussing their latest killing spree or plot a fresh massacre without a care in the world. That’s why we’re the world’s best spies. Well, flies would make even better spies, I suppose, as they can, you know, buzz around from suspect to suspect. But I’ve never heard of a fly living long enough to tell its tale to its human owner. Even supposing flies have human owners, of course, which I don’t think they have. Flies don’t provide as much warmth and affection as cats do.

We wandered about the house, and our first port of call was the kitchen. I think we were both curious to see what kind of food Kane was being fed.

The kitchen was an all-white, very spacious affair, with a gigantic butcher block in the center, and all the usual gleaming appliances occupying the enormous space. You could film a cooking show here. Maybe they did. We followed our noses, and padded into what looked like a mudroom, with coats on racks and boots neatly placed beneath them. And there it was: a placemat with two large bowls. We eagerly trotted up, and I have to say I was disappointed to find both bowls empty. Fortunately for Kane the Kenspeckles had invested in a Drinkwell. I wasn’t thirsty, though, and neither was Dooley.

“No food?” he asked.

“Looks like.”

“How is that even possible?!”

I was starting to feel sorry for the annoying little yapper. First his human was murdered by some maniac with a meat cleaver, then he’d been attacked by a feral cat, and chased around the pool by a violent intruder, and now, to add insult to injury, the Kenspeckles had forgotten to feed him.

“Looks like Kane has a lot to complain about,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, a thing like this would never happen in our home.”

We shared a look of understanding. Odelia’s place might not be the palatial house the Kenspeckles could afford, but at least she’d never forgotten to feed us, and neither had her mom or Gran. In that sense, we had it made.

“Come to gloat?” suddenly a raspy voice asked.

We turned in surprise, and saw that Kane sat glaring at us.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Far from it. Just curious to see how the other half lives.”

“The other half lives rottenly,” he said, and I noticed he spoke with a lisp, as if he had a speech impediment. Or maybe all dogs spoke like that. I wouldn’t know. I rarely move in canine circles. I’m strictly a feline person.

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “They forgot to feed you, didn’t they?”

He plunked down on his haunches and stared at us a little wearily.

“Shana used to feed me, but I guess that’s over now. She died, you know.”

“Yeah, we know,” said Dooley.

“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “We’re investigating her murder.”

“Trying to figure out whodunnit,” Dooley added, in case it wasn’t clear.

Kane nodded forlornly.“She was a good human. Always bought me the best food and allowed me to sleep on the bed. Took me everywhere, she did. Hong Kong, the Bahamas, Europe… We traveled the world together.”

“That’s nice,” I said, for lack of a better response. I didn’t care a hoot about traveling. I’m something of a homebody. Traveling gives me the willies.

“So what happened to your friend?” he asked. “The one that’s been chasing me all over the place?”

“Oh, he’s not our friend,” I hastened to say. “More an acquaintance.”

“Brutus has this theory,” Dooley said. “He wants you to confirm it.”

“Theory? What theory?”

“Well, that your human was killed by a huge, ferocious dog.”

“A dog that bit her head off,” I added helpfully.

“He thinks the Kenspeckles are hiding this dog in the basement, afraid the police will find out and accuse them of being assassins to murder.”

“Accessories,” I corrected him. “Accessories to murder.”

Kane stared at us for a moment, then frowned. He looked even sadder than usual, and bulldogs have a pretty sad face to begin with. “I always knew cats were nuts,” he said. “But now I finally have proof. You two are cuckoo.”

“Oh, no. We don’t believe any of Brutus’s ideas either,” said Dooley.

“You don’t?” This seemed to surprise the bulldog.

“No, we think he’s cuckoo, too,” I said. “I mean, no dog can produce a bite force of enough pounds of pressure to sever the human spinal cord.” I laughed. “They’d need jaws of steel to accomplish such a feat.” Dooley and Kane were staring at me, so I was quick to add, “I watch theDiscovery Channel.MythBusters? Such a great show. If you’re into that kind of thing, of course.” Which Dooley and my new canine friend obviously weren’t.

“I still don’t get what that’s got to do with me,” said Kane.

“Brutus figures you and this nonexistent Jaws of Steel are buddies, seeing as you’re both dogs and all, and he hopes you’ll squeal on your chum.”

The bulldog’s frown deepened, and now he actually looked like Tommy Lee Jones having a bad day. “He’s crazy,” he said curtly.

“Pretty much our opinion as well,” I said.

“Heis crazy,” Dooley confirmed.

“And dangerous. He said he was going to cut me. He’s a menace.”

“Yeah, well, his meow is worse than his bite,” I said.

“If you have to know, I’m the only dog on the premises. There are no other pets allowed in the house—though it’s obvious the Kenspeckles are slacking on the rules now that Shana’s gone. She always said I was her one and only Kenspeckle prince, and she wanted to keep it that way. She got me endorsement deals, and was prepping me for my own TV show, debuting in the fall. Damien was even designing a collection for me. My own fashion line. He was calling it Kane’s Kraze.” He sighed and plunked his head down on his paws, looking sad. “All gone now. No Shana. No TV show. No fashion line.”

“What about the other Kenspeckles?” I asked, feeling sorry for the dog.

“Yeah, I’ll bet they’ll adopt you now,” said Dooley.

He lifted his shoulders in an almost imperceptible shrug.“I liked Shana. She was the sweetest of the bunch.” He licked his snout with his long, pink tongue. “You see what’s happening, don’t you? The minute Shana’s gone they forget about me. I’m going to starve to death in this place. I’ll be forced to fend for myself. Forage for food in the Hampton Cove jungle. Survive.”

“We don’t have a jungle in Hampton Cove,” I said. “Only a park.”

“And a forest. But that’s where Clarice rules,” Dooley added.

“The cat that tried to cut you,” I clarified.

He groaned.“I’m doomed.”

“You’re not doomed. You’re a celebrity,” I said. “You’ve got fan clubs, an Instagram page, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat. Literally millions of fans.”

“I do? I didn’t even know. I guess Shana set all that up in my name.”

“What I mean is that you’ll be well taken care of. You’re an icon, Kane.”

This perked him up a little. At least his ears were pointing up again.

“Yeah, the Kenspeckles aren’t going to let anything happen to you,” Dooley said.

“They almost did. They allowed this crazy cat to chase me around the pool about a billion times and then do a death leap into the pool. Good thing Boa was there, or I might have drowned.”

“Boa?” I asked.

“Stanbury Boa. Bodyguard. He runs the security detail that protects the Kenspeckles.”

“And he’s probably going to get fired,” Dooley muttered.

He was right. Bodyguards get fired when the bodies they’re hired to guard are found dead. I wondered why the ax hadn’t fallen yet on Boa’s employment.

“I’m sure they’re all a little preoccupied right now,” I told Kane. “What with the murder and all. Speaking of murder, we have it from a usually reliable source that you actually witnessed the murder? Is that true?”

He nodded sadly.“Yeah, I was there. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a killer dog that did it. It was a human. Not that I mind humans slaughtering each other. I mean, it’s what they do. But they shouldn’t slaughter my human.”

“I guess,” I said dubiously. I didn’t agree with him, though. All the humans I knew were pretty great, and they would definitely not slaughter other humans. But I guess I could see where he was coming from.

“You know, I don’t even want to know. It’s all so very troubling.”

“But you can confirm that the killer was a masked intruder, right?”

“Yeah. A masked intruder with a big meat cleaver. And now can you please just leave me alone so I can properly wallow in my misery? This is quickly turning into the worst day of my entire life.”

“All right, Kane,” I said, walking over and patting him on the back, being careful not to use my claws. “I’m sorry for your loss, buddy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for the funeral. Oh, and when you see that deranged friend of yours? Tell him that if he ever comes near me again…” He hesitated, thinking hard. Then his face cleared. “Tell him I’ll sic my killer dog friend with the jaws of steel on him, and he’ll devour him in onechomp.”

Dooley was surprised.“I thought you said the killer dog didn’t exist?”

Kane grinned.“Well, he doesn’t know that, does he?”

Which just goes to show even dogs have a measure of intelligence.

Dooley and I stalked off, leaving Kane to feel sorry for himself.

“I kinda dig that dog,” said Dooley. “He’s goofy but nice.”

“Yeah, he’s all right, as dogs go,” I said noncommittally.

“A little sad, though.”

“Which is to be expected. If Odelia were killed I’d be sad, too.”

“You’d still have me and Harriet and Marge and Gran and Dr. Poole.”

“True, but Kane has the rest of the Kenspeckles and he’s still sad.”

Kane had Shayonne, Shalonda, Shantel, Sandy, Steel, Camille and Starr Kenspeckle to take care of him. Obviously they were no match for Shana.

We wandered out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the suite of bedrooms. At the end, the corridor took a left turn, ending in an airy and light atrium, where a flight of stairs led down into a basement, and up to the second floor. Voices drifted up to us, so we decided to go and take a look.

“Hey, this might lead to the underground dungeon where the Kenspeckles keep their killer dog,” said Dooley.

“We’ve established that, that dog is a figment of Brutus’s imagination, Dooley.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot. Still, it would be pretty cool if was real, huh?”

“I don’t think so. A dog like that—if it did exist—would eat us for breakfast. Literally. And I don’t know about you, but I value my life.”

All nine of them, actually. We trotted down the stairs and found ourselves in a pretty neat space. Several rooms led off a center hallway. The signs on the doors announced this was where we could find a bar, a game room, an office, a library, and even a nightclub.

“Hey, this is way cool,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, like a playhouse for grownups.”

As we neared the end, the voices became louder, and we saw that we’d arrived at the Spa& Wellness Center. The glass door was a little steamed up, and I pushed it open with my paw. We found ourselves in a darkened space, wall sconces casting a dim light, soft new age music providing a meditative atmosphere. Two men were face down on massage tables while two young ladies in white uniforms worked out the kinks in their shoulders and backs.

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” I said. “This is the life.”

“Being kneaded like a hunk of dough? We’re cats, Max, not bread.”

“It’s a massage parlor,” I said. “This is where they massage your muscles until they’re smooth and flexible.”

“My muscles are always smooth and flexible.”

I glanced at the skinny ragamuffin.“That’s because you don’t have any.”

“That’s not possible, Max,” he said. “Without muscles my skeleton would simply collapse.”

I keep forgetting that Dooley also watches the Discovery Channel. And it seems that from time to time he even manages to pay attention.

We ambled over to take a closer look, and I saw that both men had their heads stuffed into some kind of leather donut attached to the table. But even though their faces looked all scrunched-up and funny, they still managed to keep up a conversation. I now recognized them as Dion Dread, Shayonne’s husband, and Alejandro Salanova, the director of the Kenspeckles show. Neither man paid any attention to us, as usual. They were too busy talking.

“So it’s a done deal, then?” asked Dion.

“I still have to run it by the network,” said Alejandro.

“But that’s just a formality, right? As long as the producer’s on board, the network is bound to give us the go-ahead.”

“Yeah, I think it’s a cinch. We’ve never done a show like this before. What happens after you’ve been dumped by a Kenspeckle. It’s bound to be a hit.”

“I haven’t been dumped,” Dion protested. “Shayonne and I parted ways amicably. Irreconcilable differences and all of that stuff.”

“You can’t bullshit me, Dion. I was there when you had your big showdown with Shayonne, remember? Too bad the cameras weren’t rolling, or we wouldn’t have to reshoot those scenes. And at such a bad time, too.”

“Great time, you mean. All the attention is going to be on us now, with Shana’s body being found and the police sniffing around for the killer.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”

“Always look for the silver lining, Alejandro. That’s my motto.” He tried to grin, but it was hard with his face squeezed into that funny-looking donut.

I shared a look with Dooley. So Dion was getting his own show. That wasn’t going to sit well with the Kenspeckles. The only reason he’d risen to fame was because he’d married into the family. Now he was going to try and monetize that fame by establishing his own brand. I could see that this entire breakup with Shayonne and the murder of Shana was going to be benefiting him. If that wasn’t enough motive for murder I didn’t know what was.

“We have to tell Odelia,” I told Dooley.

“Tell her what? That two guys are getting a massage in the basement?”

“That Dion is getting his own show. I’ll bet it’s a big secret.”

“So? Getting his own show doesn’t make him a murderer, does it?”

“It sure does. He could have set this all up to launch his new show.”

Dooley gave me a worried look.“That sounds pretty far-fetched, Max.”

“No more far-fetched than a giant killer dog biting people’s heads off.”

He laughed, and then I laughed, and then we both laughed up a storm. It’s fun to laugh at a bully, at least when he’s not around. Until he is.

“Laugh all you want, bozos,” a gruff voice suddenly announced.

When we whirled around, we saw Brutus right behind us, looking pissed.

I gulped a little.“And? Any luck finding your vicious killer dog?”

Next to me, Dooley tried to suppress a giggle, but failed miserably.

Brutus fixed us with his best scowl.“I didn’t find a killer dog, but I did just overhear a very interesting conversation. A conversation that will interest Odelia a lot.”

“Hey. We heard it first,” I said, alarmed.

“Yeah, andwe’re going to tell Odelia,” Dooley added.

Brutus gave us an evil grin.“Not if I tell her first, you’re not.”

And then he slammed the door to the Spa& Wellness Center in our faces.

Chapter 12

The interview concluded, Odelia and Chase crossed the lawn back to the house. They’d briefly talked to the cameraman. His name was Burr Newberry and he’d been out partying all night. He met a nice girl in a beach bar and they’d spent the night together. Since Odelia happened to know the girl, she’d called her and she’d confirmed Burr’s alibi. He was in the clear.

Shayonne and Shalonda had decided to go for a walk along the beach to clear their heads, though judging from the fact they’d asked Burr to tag along with his camera, not much head-clearing was going to get done. It made Odelia wonder if there was any part of the girls’ lives that wasn’t an act.

“I don’t understand how people can live like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” she exclaimed, gesturing at the house and the grounds.

“In blatant luxury? I think it’s pretty sweet,” Chase said with a grin.

“You know what I mean. To live your whole life in the public eye.”

“I’m sure those cameras aren’t always rolling, and the sisters aren’t always on. They’re actors, and this is their show. Once the shoot is over, they go back to their regular lives. Driving their hundred-thousand-dollar cars, wearing their hundred-thousand-dollar dresses and sleeping on their hundred-thousand-dollar mattresses. You know, just like the rest of us.”

“I still think it’s weird.”

“I actually thinkyou’d be perfect for a reality show. You and your family.”

“Me? We’re pretty much the most boring family in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. A reporter who just happens to be a sleuth? A mother who singlehandedly teaches Hampton Cove kids the love of reading? A doctor who’s the best physician in town—and a great guy to boot. An ace police chief for an uncle. And a grandmother who’s…” He grimaced. “Well, I’ll admit she’s a little out there.”

“And don’t forget Max, Dooley and Harriet. They’d be a big hit, too.”

He stared down at her‘Crazy Cat Lady’ shirt. “I bet they would.”

“So what about you? The top detective allowing a small town to take advantage of his detecting talents? Now that’s the kind of story that inspires.”

“You know what? We should do a show together, Poole.”

“Now there’s an idea.” A special ofSay Yes to the Dress. She could be the bride and he could be the groom. A hot flush lit up her cheeks. Jiminy Christmas. What was wrong with her?“So who’s next on your list?”

“I thought first we’d do Dion and Damien, then focus on the TV crew.”

“We should also check into Robin Masters, Shana’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I’ll look into that.”

They found Damien upstairs, in his recording studio. As many of Merl Berkenstein’s clients were recording artists, they liked to have a studio on the premises in case they suddenly got inspired and decided to record a song. The studio occupied half of the second floor, a private movie theater the rest.

They took a seat at the mixing console while Damien, headphones perched on his head, was bleating into a sizable microphone inside the vocal booth. He was a shortish guy in his middle thirties, with a smoothly shaved head, a ginger goatee and his trademark sunglasses he could never be seen without. His voice, blasting through the speakers in the control room, sounded remarkably anemic without the background music giving it some oomph. He also sounded pretty pitchy. Nothing that Auto-Tune couldn’t fix though.

“Is it just me or is he singing awfully out of tune?” asked Chase.

“It’s not just you. Damien isn’t exactly the world’s most gifted vocalist.”

“I’ll say. My cat sings better than this guy.” Damien squeaked some more and Chase shook his head. “Give me Garth Brooks any day over that clown.”

She was surprised.“You’re a country and western fan?”

“Yes, I am. At least those guys can sing. And write a decent song.”

“Don’t tell him that. Or the interview will be over before it’s started.”

He leaned in.“That’s the beauty of being a cop. You can ask whatever the hell you want, and they have to answer, whether they like it or not.”

He was right. As a reporter she was always treading a fine line, especially with these big ego stars. Cops didn’t have to worry about that. In fact it was probably good tactics to rattle a suspect’s cage a little. Get them to confess.

“I’m starting to like this police stuff,” she said. “It beats being a reporter.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well, I get to ask all the tough questions and I don’t have to worry about the interviewee walking out on me or threatening with a defamation suit.”

Chase grinned.“We’ll make a cop out of you yet, Poole.”

A sudden thrill of happiness shot through her. It actually felt pretty great to be partnered with Chase. They made a great team. Like Cagney and Lacey. Okay, so maybe they were more like Lady and the Tramp. She could imagine sharing a plate of spaghetti with Chase. Or some meatballs.

Damien had finished recording his new song, if that’s what it was, and exited the soundproof booth. The door made a soft hissing sound as he did.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions, Mr. LeWood?” asked Chase.

“That was one of my best takes yet. Did you appreciate the exclusive?”

“Oh, yes, Damien,” said Odelia. “That was… just great.”

“The track’s going to be on my next album. I’m dedicating it to Shana.” He shook his head. “I thought I’d record a song for her while I’m still feeling the pain, you know. Throw all my agony into that one song. Make it count.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said blithely. No, she didn’t.

“Fire away, detectives,” said Damien, straddling the mixing console.

“Oh, but I’m not a detective,” said Odelia.

“She’s a consultant, which amounts to the same thing,” Chase said.

Damien spread his arms.“Like I said, fire away. I’m an open book.”

“Is it true you and Mrs. Kenspeckle were facing some marital issues?”

She saw what Chase meant by not having to tread lightly. As a reporter this type of question would have been on the publicist’s list of taboo topics.

Damien nodded.“It’s not a great secret Shana and I were seeing a marriage counselor. It was on season seven, and again on season nine. And front and center in the new season. You a fan of the show, Detective?”

“Can’t say that I am,” Chase confessed.

“Too bad. There’s a lot you could pick up. As a cop, I mean. It’s all about the human condition and the different ways living in close proximity with other human beings can affect you as a person. A fascinating experiment.”

“I’m sure it is. So what about those marriage problems? We spoke to your sisters-in-law and they told us Shana was having an affair with Dion Dread?”

Damien’s lips tightened. “That scumbag. Bagging one Kenspeckle wasn’t enough for him, he had to bag two. But we were getting over that. She was finished with Dion, and we were working hard to resolve our issues.” He played with his wedding ring, an ornate gold band with a gigantic rock. “We were fighting for our marriage, and I can tell you that we were winning.”

“What about you, Mr. LeWood? Any affairs we should know about?”

There was a flash of anger in the singer’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “I can assure you there are no skeletons in my closet. I was devoted to my wife and my marriage. I’m a family man, and I was dying to start a family.”

“Can you think of anyone who would hurt your wife?” asked Odelia.

He shook his head.“Shana was the sweetest, loveliest person in the world. She was loved by everyone. I can’t think of anyone who’d hurt her.”

“She must have made some enemies over the years,” said Chase. “People she rubbed the wrong way. You don’t get to her level of success without stepping on a few toes along the way.”

The singer fixed Chase with an intent look.“There will always be haters, Detective, but we were keeping them far away from us. It’s important to keep negativity at bay. To focus on the positive. We shielded ourselves from all of that negative energy and didn’t allow it inside this bubble we’d created.” He gestured around himself. “We created our own reality, and anyone who tried to tear us down was placed firmly outside of the bubble. It’s a simple matter of choice. And we chose life and happiness. That’s all I can say about that.”

He had a lot more to say, but nothing that shed any light on the murder of his wife. When Damien offered to play his song again, so they‘could look deeply into his soul, and find the purity within,’ they kindly declined.

The interview over, Odelia’s impression was that Damien LeWood was a nutcase. Still, he didn’t seem dangerous, and she couldn’t imagine him killing his wife. He might be a little weird, but he came across as a devoted husband.

As she and Chase descended the stairs, he said,“Oh, I got a text from the coroner. Turns out we were right. The killer did drug everyone in the house.”

“So both sisters, Dion, Damien…”

“And Shana. The film crew was fine.”

She thought about this. It provided all the Kenspeckles with an alibi. Unless… “The killer could have drugged himself, then disposed of the chloroform in the morning.”

“Good thinking, Poole. You’re right. This doesn’t mean anything.”

They’d arrived on the ground floor, and decided to check Dion’s room, to see if he was holed up in there. He was next in line for an interview.

Very conveniently, all the rooms sported a hand-painted sign indicating whose room it was. The signs were all inspired by Disney movies. Shana and Damien were Cinderella and the Prince. Dion and Shayonne were Belle and the Beast fromBeauty and the Beast, their faces nicely rendered by the artist.

“I wonder if they change these out every time someone rents this place,” said Odelia, as she let her fingers trail across the sign. It had been enameled.

“I hope they do. I wouldn’t want to sleep in a room with that on the door,” Chase grunted, pointing at the portrait of Dion Dread as the Beast.

An image of her and Chase’s faces superimposed over the portrait flashed before her eye. She’d be Belle, of course, and he’d be the Beast. Yum.

She made to knock, but Chase simply pushed open the door.“Another benefit of being a cop,” he said. “You can just barge in and nobody minds.”

Well, that remained to be seen.

“Hampton Cove PD,” he announced. “We would like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Dread.”

Dion Dread stood in the middle of the room, completely naked, droplets of water clinging to his body. It was obvious he’d just stepped out of the shower. He didn’t seem to mind being caughtau naturel.“Oh, hi, detectives. Come on in. Excuse the state of undress. I’m a big fan of air-drying.”

Chase’s jaw tightened. It was obvious he wasn’t a big fan of Dion. “What can you tell us about your affair with Shana Kenspeckle, Mr. Dread?”

Dion languidly reached over, picked up a towel from the bed and draped it around his waist. He was built like an athlete, with sculpted muscles and great abs. He also had enough tattoos to keep a tattoo artist on a retainer.

“That was all ancient history, Detective. Shana had decided to end the affair and come clean to her husband and her sister, which she recently did.”

“And how did you feel about that?” asked Odelia.

Dion walked to the window and gazed out, looking thoughtful.“I wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that. I liked Shana. She was very sweet and sexy. Her sudden conscience issues placed me in a very awkward position.”

“Did she confide in you before she came clean to her husband and sister?”

“No, she did not. One day we were an item, the next I was confronted by my wife and told she was getting a divorce. You can imagine how I felt.”

“I can imagine you were furious,” said Chase. “A divorce meant the end of your cushy life as a Kenspeckle.”

Dion turned and smiled. Backlit by the sun, he looked like a Greek god. Before becoming a reality star, he’d been a swimmer, winning multiple Olympic medals. “Look, I won’t lie to you, Detective. I was extremely upset. On the other hand, the whole affair led Shayonne and me to do a lot of soul-searching. After the first shock had worn off, she agreed with me that our marriage the last couple of months had been a sham. Shayonne had been, shall we say, sexually unavailable to me for a long time, due to some personal issues she was facing.” He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a guy. I have a guy’s needs. When I couldn’t satisfy those needs with my wife, I went looking elsewhere.”

Yeah, this guy was a real prince, Odelia thought.

“And your wife was okay with that?” asked Chase gruffly.

“No, she wasn’t okay with it, but she understood. Coming out here was a blessing. We spent the last couple of nights taking long walks along the beach, and talked like we hadn’t talked in a very long time. I like to think that we rediscovered the spark that had been extinguished through disuse.”

“And how did Shana feel about you remaining a part of the family?”

“She was fine with it. Like I said, she was a very sweet person.”

“Wasn’t it uncomfortable for her? To see her former lover all the time?”

“Before we were lovers we were friends. So we went straight back to being friends. I loved Shana a lot. I would never harm her. Or kill her.”

“Not even to save your marriage and your position in this family?”

But Dion wasn’t to be goaded. He merely smiled enigmatically. “Not a chance. I’m a man at peace with myself and my past. I made a mistake. I owned up to it. I’m a man reborn, Detective. This whole affair has made me realize that I love my wife, and that I want to start a family with her.”

Oh, great. Another family man.

“You don’t seem very upset about the death of your mistress,” said Chase.

“Oh, I am very upset. Don’t let my calm demeanor fool you. Inside I’m a total wreck, Detective. I loved Shana to bits, in spite of the fact that she dumped me. She was a wonderful person and I will miss her. We all will.”

Somehow the words didn’t ring true to Odelia. The man was entirely too slick, and the whole thing felt like an act. But then what else was new with the Kenspeckles? This whole dreadful murder felt like an act. It wouldn’t surprise her if Shana suddenly popped out of the closet and announced she wasn’t dead after all. So when suddenly the closet did pop open, she yelped, fully expecting to see Shana’s face. Instead, Max and Dooley came tumbling out, and along with them a black robe, a mask and a very large meat cleaver.

“The killer!” Max announced. “The killer is right behind us!”

Chapter 13

It’s not much fun being locked up, especially if you’re a cat. We don’t like it. It makes us feel trapped, and there’s no telling what we’ll do when we feel trapped. In our case what we did was stare at the door, hoping Brutus was kidding and would come back to save us. When a minute had passed and there was still no sign of the big brute, I figured he hadn’t been kidding. Of course, even if he did come back, there was no way he could open that door. Nature, in all its wisdom, hasn’t outfitted us cats with opposable thumbs. Imagine what we could do if it had. For one thing, we could open this door. And for another, I could make a fist and punch Brutus in the whiskers.

“I think we’re stuck,” Dooley said, showing his firm grip on reality.

“I think you’re right.”

We glanced over our shoulders at the massage area. Dion and Alejandro were still face down, chatting up a storm, kneaded by the capable hands of the massage therapists. It looked like they were going to be here a while.

“Maybe Harriet will come to the rescue?” Dooley asked, expressing a hope beyond hope that our friend would switch allegiances again.

“I doubt it. And even if she did, she can’t open this door by herself.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Cheer up, buddy. There has to be some way out of here.”

“Or we can just wait,” he said, languidly stretching out on the floor. “Sooner or later that door will open again. It’s inevitable.”

“And let Brutus share our hard-won secret with Odelia and take all the credit? No way.”

This is not something I’m particularly proud of, but I admit I have a competitive spirit. I like to win, especially when competing against a bully like Brutus. Nobody is going to come into my town and my house and try and steal my human’s affection in this treacherous way. No way. No how.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s find the back door to this dump.”

“Oh, what’s the point?” asked Dooley, closing his eyes. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling us we should take a nap.”

I gave him a poke. It was my way of telling him to get a move on.“Get up, Dooley. We’re getting out of here and we’re getting out of here now.”

He grumbled a little, but eventually managed to defy gravity and get up.“Do we always have to be the heroes? Can’t we just be cats for a change?”

“No, we can’t. Being a hero is the American way. Now let’s go.”

We wandered deeper into the spa center and passed several sauna cabins, just waiting for some crazy human to allow himself to be boiled alive. How they can stand that kind of torture I will never understand. Bodies aren’t made to suffer those temperatures. The worst part? Humans like being boiled. It makes me think they’re probably a lot less evolved than they claim.

We arrived at an indoor pool. It looked pretty cool. When I stuck my paw into the water I discovered that it was. Definitely too cool for me. Brrr.

“This water is freezing!” Dooley cried.

“Humans like it,” I said. “I’ve seen it on TV. First they broil themselves in those torture cabins over there. Then they jump into this icy water. It’s supposed to be good for their health. Sounds like fake science to me.”

“I can’t imagine how torturing yourself can be healthy.”

“Humans think hamster wheels are healthy, buddy, though they call it treadmills.”

We walked the length of the pool and arrived at the Jacuzzi. The water was gently bubbling, steam rising from the surface. This was yet another thing I didn’t understand. How humans could spend hours soaking in hot water. And then they were surprised when their skin got all wrinkly.

We passed the resting area, which was located in an alcove, a skylight allowing sunlight to slant in and warm up the spa visitors. Loungers were spread out around a small fountain on the floor, and soft music played from the speakers. This was where humans, after all that torture, passed out.

“Hey, this looks like a great place for a nap,” Dooley said, and jumped up onto one of the loungers.

“No way,” I said. “We need to get out of here so we can tell Odelia about our discovery.”

Next to the resting area was a small bar, where the guests could grab a drink. I trotted behind the counter, hoping to find the back door. What I found was a small storage room. Boxes were stashed up high, and when I looked around, I saw that the room doubled as the electrical room. I dashed inside. The electric switchboard was here, as well as a lot of pipes crossing this space. One set of pipes led up, and disappeared into the ceiling.

“Hey, Dooley,” I called out. “I think I might have found a way out.”

Dooley came trotting up reluctantly.“What?”

“Look,” I said, gesturing at the concrete ceiling.

He looked up and yawned.“Nice pipes. So what?”

“So this is our way out,” I said enthusiastically.

He stared at me, and then back to the pipes. “I think you’re delusional, Max. How is this our way out? We can’t squeeze into those pipes.”

“No, but we can climb them. See how there’s a hole in the concrete up there? I’m sure we can squeeze through.”

“Squeeze through? And then what?”

“Then we’ll be one floor up, and I’m sure there’s a way out up there.”

“And I’m sure we’ll just get stuck up there.”

“Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Trying to keep me alive. I’m not suicidal, Max.”

“Neither am I.” I fixed him with a firm look. “Look, Dooley. While we’re dragging our feet, Brutus is sweet-talking Odelia into appointing him her new first feline detective, supplanting us in the process.”

“Planting what?”

“I mean, taking our place in her heart, her home, and her life.”

Dooley thought about this for a moment.“I don’t think I like that, Max.”

“Me neither. So are you going to give this a try or not?”

He stared up again, and sighed.“I suppose so.”

Lucky for us, the pipes weren’t those plastic slippery ones. Even with claws it’s hard to get a grip on that kind of surface. I usually simply dig my claws in deep, but we had no way of knowing what was running through these pipes. If it was gas or water we might be royally screwed. Fortunately the pipes were covered with some kind of Styrofoam and were easy to scale.

I went first, clawing my way up, leaving a trail of styrofoam particles raining down. It was a lot easier than I thought, and soon I reached the ceiling and squeezed myself through a hole in the concrete. Now I was on the first floor. I was right: the pipes extended up, to the second floor and beyond.

“This is some real Indiana Jones shit, buddy!” I cried enthusiastically.

“Or one of those suicide missions,” he lamented. “LikeStar Wars Rogue One. The heroes save the universe and as a reward they get to die at the end.”

“Oh, Dooley,” I muttered. I think if Indiana Jones had had a sidekick like Dooley, he might never have gotten his hands on that Ark of the Covenant.

“We’re going to get stuck up here. We’re going to get stuck and we’re going to die. Archeologists are going to find our mummified corpses a thousand years from now, wondering what the hell we were thinking!”

“We were thinking about our obligation toward Odelia. And for your information, we’re not going to get stuck.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I can already see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Don’t go into the light, Max!”

“Why not?”

“Because it means you’re dead.”

“I’m not dead. I can see light coming from somewhere ahead of me.”

“That’s what they all say, and then they’re dead.”

“Look, we’ve got nine lives, right? So have a little faith, buddy.”

“That whole nine lives thing is just an old wives’ tale, Max. I hate to break it to you but when we die, that’s it. We’re not coming back for round two.”

“Can you just… shut up already? You’re not helping.”

“I’m the voice of reason.”

“More like the voice of doom.”

We were in some kind of crawl space between the floors. It was pretty dusty and stuffy in here, but I didn’t mind. I did see light, and I decided to follow it, whatever Dooley said. It led to a small rectangular opening covered with a plastic screen. I gave the screen a nudge and it dropped down into the space beyond. I squeezed my way through and found myself in another dark space, a vertical strip of light directly in front of me. This was the light I’d seen. Not that I needed it. My eyesight is pretty good, thank you very much.

Dooley squeezed in right behind me, and bumped into my butt.

“Where are we?” he whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” I whispered back.

“Because I don’t want to wake up the monster.”

“What monster?”

“The monster in the closet.”

Dooley was right. We were in a closet. Above us, shirts and blazers were hanging from clothes hangers, and on the floor, where we were, a suitcase was placed. So that narrow strip of light in front of us was… the closet door!

“We made it, Dooley!” I cried.

“Made it where?”

“Someone’s closet, just like you said!”

“I didn’t say anything about a closet.”

Outside the closet door, I could hear voices, and I immediately recognized one of them.“Do you hear that?”

Dooley frowned.“Hey, that sounds like Odelia.”

“That’s because it is Odelia, and we’re in a closet in someone’s room.”

I glanced around, trying to figure out whose closet this was. And that’s when I saw it. Right behind Dooley. Chills ran up my feline spine.

“D-D-Dooley. Don’t turn around, but the killer is right behind you!”

“What?!” Dooley cried, whirling around. He yelped in fear when he caught sight of the black-robed figure lurking behind him, a huge meat cleaver in his hands!

“It’s the killer!” I cried. “We found the killer!”

“I was right!” Dooley whimpered. “We’re going to die!”

We tumbled out of the closet, trying to get away as fast as we could. The killer jumped out right behind us, and the meat cleaver clattered to the floor.

I saw Odelia and screamed,“The killer! The killer is right behind us!”

I jumped into her arms, and so did Dooley, and that’s when I saw it wasn’t the killer who’d been inside that closet with us, but only his robe.

Odelia looked surprised, and so did Chase, who was also there. The one who was even more surprised, though, was Dion Dread. And as he stared at us, and at the black robe and the meat cleaver, he cried,“That’s not mine!”

Yeah, right. That’s what they all say.

Embarrassed, I jumped down from Odelia’s arms. Indiana Jones would never jump into anyone’s arms. Indiana Jones would face the danger head-on. And now that I’d discovered we’d been spooked by a robe, I was ready to do just that.

“Wait, what is Dion doing here?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t he supposed to be down in the spa getting a massage?”

“I guess his massage ended.”

“See, Max?” asked Dooley. “We should have just waited it out.”

“If we hadn’t climbed that pipe we wouldn’t have found the killer!”

“It isn’t a killer. It’s just an old robe and a cleaver.”

“Duh. That’s the murder weapon, Dooley, and the killer’s bloody robe.”

Dooley yelped, only now understanding we’d caught the killer, and he was here in the room with us. We both stared at Dion, the brutal murderer.

Just then, Brutus came barging through the door, a little winded, and cried,“Odelia! Dion Dread is planning his own reality show!” He caught sight of us, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, shoot.”

Chase took one look at the cleaver and the black robe, still crusted with blood, and his jaw clenched. He stepped up to Dion Dread, flicked a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and announced,“Dion Dread. You’re under arrest for the murder of Shana Kenspeckle.”

“But I didn’t do it! That stuff ain’t mine! Someone planted it there!”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Chase grunted, and marched Dion out of the room.

“Hey! I can’t go out there in just my towel!”

“Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.”

Harriet now came traipsing into the room. “What’s with all the screaming?”

“We found the killer,” I announced proudly.

“You certainly did,” said Odelia, crouching down and giving me a rub.

Harriet frowned at her boyfriend.“Brutus? I’ve been looking all over for you. Where were you?”

He tried to look as innocently as he could.“Oh, just hanging out.”

“He locked us up in the basement!” Dooley cried accusingly.

“Yeah, and he tried to give our scoop to Odelia,” I added.

“Oh, Brutus,” Harriet said, shaking her head. “I told you, this is not the way to win friends and influence people. This is the way to make enemies.”

“They started first!” he said. “They’re trying to cut me out.”

“Nobody is trying to cut you out of anything, Brutus,” said Odelia. She gave Dooley and me a stern look. “Look, it’s really great that you guys managed to find the murder weapon and the murderer’s robe, but you have to learn to get along with Brutus. I think it’s high time you all became friends.”

We stared at Brutus, and he stared back at us, defiant.

“I want you to shake paws and apologize,” Odelia told me.

“Me? Apologize to him? What for?”

“Come on, Max. You know you haven’t been very nice to Brutus.”

“Me? Not nice to him? He’s not being nice to me!”

“Look, I don’t want to hear any more. You’ll apologize and be friends from now on. And you, Brutus, I want to hear an apology from you as well. Max has told me about your behavior, and it’s unacceptable. Is that clear?”

Now that was more like it. Brutus looked like he was about to refuse, but Harriet placed her paw on his back and he finally relented, hanging his head.“Oh, all right. I’m sorry, Max, for the way I’ve behaved. It was wrong of me.”

“And I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved,” I said when Odelia cut her eyes to me and gave me a warning look. “I should have been much nicer to you.”

We reluctantly walked up to each other and slapped our paws together.

“Now tell him you’ll be friends, Max,” said Odelia.

“Friends?” I asked.

Brutus nodded.“Friends.”

Just then, Chase stuck his head through the door.“We have to lock up this room. This is now a crime scene.” He stared down at the gathering of cats, and shook his head. “Your cats caught the killer, Poole. Amazing.”

She smiled.“Yeah, that is pretty amazing. And your cat helped, too.”

Chase quirked an eyebrow at Brutus.“So he did. Good work, buddy.”

He walked out, Odelia in his wake, and Brutus, Dooley, Harriet and me right behind her. He then locked the door and pocketed the key.

“I’m so glad we’re all friends now,” Harriet said. “This is so nice.”

I caught Brutus’s eye, and the look he gave me was far from friendly. His next words confirmed this. “This isn’t over, Max. You’re going down.”

“Not if you’re going down first,” I replied, a little lamely.

“Friends, you guys!” Harriet said. “We’re all friends now!”

Brutus shrugged and displayed a nasty grin.“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 14

“So? Cracked the case, huh, Chase?” asked Uncle Alec. He took another sizable helping of spaghetti, and ladled some more tomato sauce on top.

It was Thursday night at the Pooles, and as usual Alec had put his feet under the dinner table, along with his temporary roomie Chase. There was spaghetti bolognese on the menu, so Odelia got to relive the famous spaghetti scene fromLady and the Tramp after all, though she and Chase didn’t slurp from the same plate. But then she wasn’t a lady, and Chase wasn’t a tramp.

She twirled the pasta around the tines of her fork and thought about the case. She had her qualms about Dion as a killer. How convenient that the murder weapon would be lying around in his closet. Too convenient. Why hadn’t the uniformed officers found it when they searched his room?

“Yeah, that was quick work,” Chase said, pressing a napkin to his lips.

“Is it true that the cats actually solved the case?” asked Dad.

“It’s true. The cats are the real heroes here,” Chase confirmed.

Dad shook his head and chuckled.“Unbelievable. Those cats have saved the day so many times now they should be made honorary police officers.”

He gave Odelia a wink and she grinned. Her dad was Hampton Cove’s resident doctor. He had his doctor’s office right across the street from the Hampton Cove Gazette. He was a jovial fifty-something physician with a shock of white hair. He was also one of the only people who knew that his mother-in-law, his wife and his daughter could communicate with felines.

“Yeah, we should probably give them a medal,” Uncle Alec agreed. He sat back in his chair and patted his sizable paunch. He was a large man, and a well-respected chief of police. He’d finally returned from his fishing trip, only to discover he shouldn’t have bothered, as the killer was in jail. “The mayor was very happy,” he said. “He was practically on the phone with the FBI when you arrested Dion Dread. Good thing you nabbed him when you did.”

“It still remains to be seen if we’ve got the right guy,” said Chase. “But all the evidence so far points in his direction.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Chase,” said Mom. “You nailed the perp.”

Mom had been reading Lincoln Rhyme novels. The lingo rubbed off.

“Thank you, ma’am. I mean, Marge,” said Chase.

He seemed more relaxed now that the killer was behind bars.

“I just knew that Dion was the perp,” said Gran. The wizened old lady was polishing off her second plate of pasta. She claimed she was on the paleo diet, but Odelia doubted cavemen had ever been into spaghetti bolognese.

“Why is that?” asked Odelia. Gran watched the Kenspeckles religiously.

“Oh, I hate the guy. Even when he was an Olympic swimmer. That man’s got more tattoos than Ed Sheeran. He’s like a walking adult coloring book.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of the Kenspeckles?” asked Chase.

“Of course I’m a fan. I’m a big fan of the Kenspeckles. I’m their number one fan. Where else are you gonna find that much drama? It’s better thanGeneral Hospital. And why is that? Because the Kenspeckles are the real deal. They’re not something some Hollywood screenwriter with spectacles, pimples and stinky ramen noodle breath cooked up. It’s all real.”

“Except for Shayonne Kenspeckle’s boobs,” said Mom. “Those can’t be real. They’re lumpy and square. Real boobs aren’t lumpy and square.”

“You’re right about the boobs. You got me on the boobs. Theyare square. But apart from that, what you see is what you get. All real, all the time.”

“Or Shalonda’s butt. I’ll bet she got herself some of those butt implants.”

“I’ll throw in Shalonda’s butt. Butt and boobs? Fake. The rest? All real.”

“And Shantel’s lips. I’m guessing lip injections. Lots of lip injections.”

“Butt, boobs, lips, check,” said Gran. “And don’t forget about the botox. They all got the botox. Even Steel Kenspeckle got the botox, and he’s a guy.”

“Steel Kenspeckle’s the dad,” I explained, for Chase’s sake.

“I know,” he said. “I read Wikipedia.”

“And what about Camille’s rhinoplasty?” asked Mom.

“Camille’s the—”

“Mother. Yes, I know,” said Chase.

“And then there’s Starr’s laser hair removal. The kid’s got no hair left.”

“Starr is the son,” Gran said as an aside to Chase, who groaned.

“And don’t tell me Shayonne’s eyebrows are real. Those are microbladed.”

Dad grinned.“I’m starting to think I got into the wrong profession.”

“Yeah, Dad,” said Odelia. “You should have gone into plastic surgery. There’s money in plastic surgery. You could have been the Kenspeckles’ personal plastic surgeon if you’d played your cards right. We could all be living in Beverly Hills right now, and I could be writing for the LA Times.”

“It’s not too late,” said Gran, perking up. “I could use a nip and tuck.”

No amount of nip and tuck could ever turn Gran into a babe, but Dad gracefully said,“You don’t need surgery, Vesta. You’re a natural beauty.”

“I know I don’t need surgery, but I could use a lift. At my age stuff starts sagging so much only heavy-duty scaffolding can keep it up. I’ll bet if I had Camille Kenspeckle’s surgeon he could strip off a decade. Can you believe that woman’s as old as Cher and Dolly Parton? She looks likea teenager.”

Odelia felt it was time to give her grandmother a reality check.“Nothing on that show is real, Gran. Everything is fake, and I’m not just talking about the boobs and the butts and the thighs and the noses. I’m talking about the fights and the dramas and the tantrums and the crying. It’s all scripted.”

“Nonsense. Nobody can fake all those feelz. Like when Shantel and Sandy were on vacay in Cabo and they got into this huge fight over who got to bag the cabana boy? You can’t fake that kind of heartfelt emotion. We’ll never know who did the cabana boy but I think it was Shantel. BCheeks cheated on her with the dog walker so she decided to get back at him.”

Chase leaned in, and whispered,“I’m afraid to ask, but who’s BCheeks?”

“Some rapper Shantel dated last year. A total tool.”

He grinned.“I’m surprised you even know the name.”

“Mom and Gran keep me in the loop.”

“You really are into that show, aren’t you, Mom?” asked Uncle Alec.

“I told you. It’s nice to get a slice of real life for a change.”

“What did you think of Shana Kenspeckle, Mrs. Poole?” asked Chase.

“She was a doll. Misguided, of course. Marrying that loser Damien LeWood was a dumb move. The guy is certifiable and should be locked up.”

“She deserved better,” Mom agreed. “That girl was a saint. An angel.”

“She definitely deserved better than to be murdered by that asshat Dion Dread,” Gran agreed. “The show won’t be the same without her.”

“Do you think they’ll cancel the show?” asked Mom, eyes wide.

“They said they wouldn’t,” said Odelia. “Shayonne and Shalonda want to keep it going, and they seem to think this murder will give the show a boost.”

“Yeah, but when all the hubbub dies down it’s going to drop like a stone,” said Gran, the self-professed Kenspeckle expert. “Those sisters can’t hold a candle to Shana, and neither can Shantel or Sandy. And don’t even get me started on Steel and Camille, or that moron Starr.” She shook her head. “No, they’ve gone and killed the goose that laid the golden eggs.”

“So theyare going to cancel the show,” said Mom with a sigh.

“No big loss there,” said Chase. “I doubt a lot of people are going to shed a tear about the end of the Kenspeckles.”

“I will,” said Gran. “Now I’ll have to go back to watchingJeopardy. I can only imagine how boring that’s going to be after my weekly fix of real-life drama and wholesome family entertainment.”

“I’m sure there are other shows,” said Mom soothingly.

“Yeah, but none of them are as much fun as the Kenspeckles.”

“There’s Mama June and Honey Boo Boo,” said Dad with a grin.

“Oh, please,” said Gran. “I have my standards, Tex.”

This elicited a snort from Chase. Gran cut her eyes to him.

“So when are you going to start dating Odelia, Chase?” she asked.

“Mother!” Mom cried.

“What? I’m just looking out for my only grandchild.”

“I could do dinner,” said Chase, nodding. “I could definitely do dinner.”

“Oh, curb your enthusiasm,” said Gran. “You two have a thing or two to learn from the Kenspeckles. When Shana and Damien met they hit the sack the minute they laid eyes on each other. Same thing with Shayonne and Dion. Or Shalonda. The woman’s had more anaconda than any self-respecting ho.”

“Mom! We have guests!”

Chase just sat grinning, and when he briefly locked eyes with Odelia, she thought she detected a mischievous glint. As if he wouldn’t mind going all anaconda on her. The prospect made her knees go weak, while other parts of her anatomy tightened up considerably.

“So you’ve decided to stop pursuing Chase, Mom?” asked Chief Alec.

Gran waved a hand.“I’m all about family, honey. Odelia needs a man a lot more than I do, so I’ve decided to sacrifice my own needs for hers.”

“That’s very generous of you, Gran,” said Odelia.

“Ugh. It’s the least I can do. Before I die I’d like to dandle my great-grandchildren on my knee. Have a four generation picture in the Gazette. Is that too much to ask?”

“I think Odelia and Chase are old enough to decide for themselves, Vesta,” said Dad. “Without anyone else interfering.”

“And I think they need all the interfering they can get. It’s obvious it’s going to take them forever to bust a move, and I’m not getting any younger.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, Mrs. Poole,” said Chase. He tipped back his root beer. Judging from the grin he gave Odelia he was enjoying the conversation.

“So have you found a place of your own yet, Chase?” asked Mom.

“Actually, I haven’t.”

“Still looking, huh?”

“Yep.”

“You can always move in with Odelia,” said Gran.

“Mom,” said Mom warningly.

“Just throwing out a few suggestions. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

Uncle Alec clapped Chase on the shoulder.“You can stay with me as long as you want, buddy. Heck, I enjoy the company.”

“Thanks, Chief. But Marge is right. Sooner or later I’m going to have to find a place of my own.”

“Well, if it’s up to me it’s later rather than sooner.”

“Once the Kenspeckles return to LA, Merl Berkenstein’s place will be up for rent,” said Dad with a humorous glint in his eye.

Chase laughed, twin dimples creasing his cheeks.“Yeah, that’ll happen.”

“You could always get your own reality show,” said Gran. “Just make sure there’s lots and lots of sex. It’s the sex that makes these shows so popular. That and the catfighting, of course. You got to have catfighting.”

“Speaking of the Kenspeckles, here’s to a successful solving of this case,” said Chief Alec, raising his glass.

They all drank to the successful conclusion of the murder investigation, and Chase said,“To Odelia, whose clever pussy managed to solve the case.”

He gave her a meaningful glance. Her pussy obviously intrigued him.

“So what happens now?” asked Mom.

“Now we process the evidence,” said Uncle Alec. “The cleaver and the robe. Check them for DNA of the victim and, hopefully, the killer. And while we wait for the results, we interrogate Dread. Try to get a confession out of him.”

“That’ll be easier said than done,” Chase grunted. “The guy insists he’s innocent and that someone planted that cleaver and that robe in his room.”

“Once we get his DNA on the robe he’ll sing like a canary,” said Alec.

Odelia wasn’t so sure. “What if he’s right and he didn’t do it?”

“Then we’re back to square one,” said Chase. “Why? You think he’s innocent?”

She chewed her lip.“Why would he keep the murder weapon in his closet for us to find? That just seems like a dumb move.”

“But wedidn’t find it. At least not when we searched his room the first time. He probably hid it somewhere else, then when his room was cleared he moved it, waiting for us to leave so he could dispose of it permanently.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think happened, too,” said Uncle Alec with a nod.

“He always was a dumbass,” said Gran. “I’m glad he got caught.”

“We’re all glad he got caught,” said Mom. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

And while Mom brought out the key lime pie, Odelia figured Chase was probably right. Dion had simply put the cleaver in his closet so he could get rid of it as soon as possible. And if Max and Dooley hadn’t ended up tripping over it, he would have gotten away with murder. Which reminded her that Max and Dooley deserved a treat for the role they’d played. And Harriet and Brutus, too. She was glad the foursome were finally on the road to friendship. Especially Max and Brutus. She had a feeling they were going to be besties.

And then it was time for key lime pie. And more Kenspeckle gossip.

Chapter 15

The killer was caught so we could finally relax. That night, while the Pooles were sleeping peacefully, Dooley, Harriet and I snuck out. After all that hard work, it was time to have some fun. Odelia had given us some extra-special treats, and we were ready to sing our hearts out. You may think it’s weird that cats would join a choir, but to be honest it’s just an excuse to shoot the breeze. Hampton Cove Park is pretty quiet at night, which makes it perfect to do a little hunting, a little tittle-tattling and a little partying.

“Do you think Brutus will be nicer after Odelia’s speech?” asked Dooley.

“I think Brutus will be super-nice,” said Harriet. “We’re all friends now.”

She was in a great mood. The four of us being friends had been her dream all along, and now it was finally happening. I wasn’t so confident that Brutus was my friend now. Especially after what he told me: you’re going down. That didn’t sound like something a friend would say. At least I didn’t think so.

“It’s so great we caught the killer,” said Harriet, prancing gaily.

“It’s so greatwe caught the killer,” Dooley corrected her. “Max and I caught Dion, remember?”

“Yes, but Brutus helped, and since I’m his muse, I helped too.”

It was the kind of convoluted logic I had a hard time understanding. Taken to its conclusion, you could argue that the whole world had helped catch the killer, while in fact Dooley and I had done all the hard work. Of course you could argue that if Brutus hadn’t locked us up in the spa, we’d never have been forced to climb that pipe and end up in Dion Dread’s closet. Honestly, with that kind of reasoning you could prove pretty much anything.

“And I’m so glad that you and Brutus are going to be besties!” she cried.

Dooley and I shared a glance and shook our heads. Yeah, right.

We’d walked around Odelia’s house to the street and were now traipsing along, heading for the park. The moon was out and it was a beautiful night. One of those nights where humans like to bring out the barbecue set and the air is redolent with the smell of grilled meat, smoke and burned grease. Yum. But since it was way past midnight, the only scent I could pick up was ocean brine, the wind picking up a little. In spite of that, it was still warm out. The perfect night for cat choir. We crossed the street and found the park deserted, which was exactly the way we liked it. Humans tend to cramp our style.

“Brutus is such a great singer,” said Harriet. “I’m so curious to see what songs he’s got in line for us tonight. Don’t you feel that since he took over from Shanille we’ve improved so much? He’s a great conductor but an even greater coach. Sometimes I feel like he should be onThe Voice Cats. He’s got Adam Levine’s focus and Blake Shelton’s heart and sense of humor and he’s really concerned about our musical development. I mean, hecares so much.”

On and on she prattled. Dooley and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Not that we tried to. When Harriet gushes about Brutus there’s no stopping her.

We entered the park and made our way to the venue we’d selected for cat choir practice. It was a small clearing with a few benches, which we used to set up the different voice types. You had your sopranos, your altos, your tenors and your basses. Personally I’d always felt I was an alto, but Brutus had dumped me in with the basses. I didn’t like it. They didn’t have an interesting score. Harriet, of course, was a soprano, and always got to sing the solos. She was our very own Kiri Te Kanawa. The people who lived around the park got to enjoy our nocturnal concerts, too. Though they didn’t seem to appreciate them all that much. At least judging from all the abuse they hurled at us. And the shoes. Everyone’s a critic, I guess.

As we padded up to the clearing, I saw Shanille was already there, and so were about a dozen of the regulars, all gabbing away to their heart’s content.

“Oh, there’s Brutus,” said Harriet, and she was about to streak forward when she noticed Brutus wasn’t alone. He was chatting with a gorgeous Siamese and a very red, very fat old cat who sat chewing on something.

“Hey, isn’t that Princess?” Dooley asked. “And look. There’s George.”

I nodded, transfixed. I liked Princess. In fact I liked her a lot. She was John Paul George’s cat, the famous eighties pop singer who recently died at his Hamptons home. He’d lived there with his twelve cats, the oldest of which was George. The cats now lived with Johnny’s boyfriend Jasper Pruce, who probably took even better care of them than Johnny had.

The fat cat caught sight of us and came waddling over, a big smile on his face.“Hey, you guys,” he said. George must have watched too many Marlon Brando movies, because he sounded like the actor’s character inThe Godfather.“Princess told me you’ve got yourselves a genuine cat choir here, so I figured we might check you out. We already met your conductor. Brutus.”

I nodded, still staring at Princess. The moon lit up her white fur, and she looked even more gorgeous than I remembered. God, she was pretty.

“Welcome to the show, George,” Dooley said. “Are you going to join?”

“Nah. I have no singing talent whatsoever. Just thought I’d watch.”

George was a British cat, who’d come over from the old country along with John Paul George, when the latter had tried to make a career in America. He was probably the oldest cat I’d ever met, but he still looked great. Probably all that grade A cat food Jasper fed his menagerie.

While George and Dooley got reacquainted, I trotted over to Princess.

“Hi, Max,” she said in that sultry, smoky voice of hers.

“Hi, Princess,” I breathed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

“You two know each other?” Brutus asked, sounding surprised.

“We met,” said Princess, and gave me a bright smile that melted my heart.

“I was just telling Princess I might let her sing the solo tonight,” Brutus said with a curious look in my direction.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful of you, Brutus,” said Princess. “I won’t disappoint you. I sat by John Paul George’s side for years, singing along. I like to think he drew inspiration from my presence. All artists need a muse, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was his.”

I knew I was gawking, but I couldn’t stop. I think I was drooling, too.

“A celebrity such as yourself deserves a spot in the limelight,” said Brutus, nodding. “If you like we can work on your solos one on one. Do some private coaching. I don’t like to brag, but I’m something of a musical prodigy myself.”

“You would do that for me? That’s so sweet of you, Brutus.”

I heard a strangled sound and when I looked over my shoulder I saw that it was Harriet. She was staring at Brutus and Princess, making strange noises at the back of her throat. Either she was going to throw up, or throw a hissy fit and hit Brutus. Either way, she wasn’t happy. And neither was I.

“I started cat choir to give struggling young artists such as yourself their first break,” Brutus continued suavely. “Kind of like a mentorship.”

“You didn’t start cat choir,” Harriet said. “Max started cat choir.”

At the mention of my name, I snapped out of my stupor. She was right. Brutus was putting the moves on Princess, and I was letting him.

“Yeah, I started cat choir,” I said. “Dooley and I did.”

Princess turned a pair of cool blue eyes on me.“You started cat choir?”

“Yes, they did,” said Harriet heatedly. “And what’s more,I’m the choir’s lead soprano.I have the best voice.I sing the solos. Not you. Me.”

Princess fluttered her eyes over Harriet, apparently wasn’t impressed, and dismissed her with a flick of her paw. “I’d be delighted to sing the lead.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?!” Harriet exclaimed. “Tell her, Brutus. Tell her I sing the solos.”

“Now, now,” said Brutus airily. “This is not the time for petty rivalries. We have to think of cat choir. What’s good for cat choir is good for all of us. And what we need right now is to boost our reputation. Attract top talent. A celebrity like Princess adds luster to the lineup. And luster is what we want.”

For a moment, I thought Harriet was going to do a Miss Piggy and smack Brutus in the face, but at the last moment she restrained herself, and simply lifted both her head and her tail high, gave Princess the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen, and stalked off. We’d entered some regularBlack Swan territory now.

“Look, you don’t get to decide who sings the solos,” I told Brutus.

“Oh, yes, I do,” he said, casting a worried look after Harriet.

I turned to Princess.“If anyone is the musical expert around here, it’s me. Brutus may be the conductor, but I’m the beating heart of this choir. I’m the heart and soul of cat choir. So if anyone is going to be coaching you, it’s me.”

“Is that a fact?” asked Brutus.

“That is a fact,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me, and raised an extended claw. The same claw he used to direct the choir.“You may have started this choir, buddy, but without me you’d still be a ragtag clowder of bumbling amateurs. It took a real leader like me to turn this hapless bunch of losers into a real choir.”

“Oh, you certainly are a real leader, Brutus,” Princess said. She placed her paw on his front leg and felt his bicep. “And you’re so very strong.”

I drew up closer and puffed out my chest.“You’ll have to forgive Brutus, Princess. He’s new in town. He doesn’t know I started this choir to build a sense of community here in Hampton Cove. Forge bonds. Inspire friendship. That’s what I do. I’m a community leader. A leader of the community.”

“I can see that,” said Princess. She let go of Brutus, draped her front leg through mine and squeezed my nonexistent bicep. “I like you, Max.”

I practically coughed up a hairball.“I like you, too,” I squeaked.

“You’re a regular musical prodigy,” Princess said. “Sing something.”

“Huh?”

“Sing something for me. Give me a sample of your talent.”

I cast about helplessly for a moment, but when I caught Brutus grinning at me, I pulled myself together and sang the first thing that came to mind.“Is it too late to say sorry?”I bleated. Princess blinked. My singing sounded as if a cat had stepped on my tail.“Cause… I’m missing more than just your… body.”

Princess emitted a wild giggle, then controlled herself with some effort and shook her head.“That was… interesting. Very… novel.”

Oh, God. I’d screwed up, hadn’t I? Stage fright. It’s a real killer.

“You know, I was actually at the Kenspeckle place today,” said Brutus, turning his back on me and starting to lead Princess away.

Her eyes went wide.“The Kenspeckles? The reality stars?”

“Yep. Hanging with Damien LeWood. Jamming with my main man.”

“You know Damien LeWood?” she asked excitedly. “The famous rapper?”

“The one and only. Damien and I are tight. If you like I’ll introduce you.”

“Ooh, Brutus. I would love that!”

I watched Brutus lead her to a nearby tree, explaining to her how his buddy Damien LeWood had promised him a leading role in his reality show, and how he was pretty sure he could get her a casting call with the director.

“Max, what’s going on?” Dooley asked, looking worried. “Why were you singing that horrible song? I thought we said we wouldn’t do that again.”

“I was trying to impress Princess,” I said miserably.

He looked at Princess.“She doesn’t look impressed. At least not by you.”

I groaned.“I know. It was a total fail. And now she’s all over Brutus.”

He shrugged.“So? What’s it to you?”

I stared at him.“Are you blind? She’s the prettiest cat for miles around.”

“I always thought Harriet was the prettiest cat for miles around.”

“Well, I don’t. And if I don’t figure out a way to trump Brutus I’ll lose my chance.”

“Why don’t you climb a tree?” he suggested.

“Climb a tree? What do you mean, climb a tree?”

“I mean climb a tree. Chicks dig it. They clap and cheer. It’s a thing.”

It shows how far gone I was that I seriously contemplated Dooley’s inane suggestion. He’s my best friend, but he’s also an idiot, and the fact that even before he finished telling me to climb a tree I was scooting up the nearest tree, proves that when it comes to women, I’m an even bigger idiot.

“Yoo-hoo, Princess!” I shouted when I’d reached the first branch. “Why don’t you come up and join me? These are the best seats in the house!”

“Oh, Max,” Princess laughed. “You’re so funny!”

Funny wasn’t what I was going for, but at least I had her attention.

Brutus scowled at me, and within seconds he’d joined me, clawing his way up to the branch directly above mine. “My seat is even better!” he yelled. “In fact this is the conductor’s spot. Make sure everyone can see me.”

Princess laughed again, a breathy, coquettish sound. It was so sexy.

I decided I wasn’t going to be outdone by this brute, so I quickly clambered up one more branch, and then I was one up on Brutus.

From the ground, Dooley gave me two thumbs up.“Doing great, Max!”

The other cats all stared at us as if we’d lost our minds. Even George stood shaking his weary old head. For the first time I was starting to wonder if I wasn’t making an absolute fool of myself. Unfortunately, Brutus wasn’t making this consideration, as he quickly outdid me, and rose one more level.

“Brutus!” a voice rang out. “Come down at once!”

It was Harriet. Apparently she’d returned to butt heads with Princess once again. She wasn’t going to give up on Brutus without putting up a fight.

“Not a chance!” Brutus croaked. “I have a choir to conduct.”

“You never do your conducting from up there!” she shouted.

“Oh, yes, I do,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t listen to her, Princess. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Harriet turned to Princess.“I do know what I’m talking about. I’m not just this choir’s leading lady and main vocalist, I’m also Brutus’s girlfriend.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Dooley muttered, and Harriet gave him a withering look that quickly shut him up.

As Princess and the others watched, Brutus and I climbed higher and higher into the tree. Each time he overtook me, I went higher, and on and on it went, until we both reached the top and there was no more tree left. Huh.

Unfortunately we were now so high up that we couldn’t even see the ground, or the others. And as we listened to the sounds of cat choir starting their rehearsal without us, I wondered what the hell I was doing up here.

“Um, Brutus?” I asked, precariously perched on the top branch.

“Yeah?” he said a little uncertainly.

“Do you know how to get down from here?”

There was a momentary silence, then he confessed,“Nope.”

We both looked down, and the dizzying height gave me the creeps.

“They’ve started without us,” I said.

“I know. Can you believe it?”

“And Princess didn’t join us.”

“I think she lost interest about halfway through our climb.”

“I like that cat.”

“Me too. Though to be honest I like Harriet more.”

“What?! Then why did you put the moves on Princess?”

He shrugged.“I’m a cat, Max. Putting the moves on felines is what I do.”

We were quiet for a while, sitting there side by side while we listened to the cats singing up a storm. Then the first neighbor opened his window and shouted something. Then the second neighbor opened his window and threw a shoe. Sound carries, and the sound of two dozen cats screeching as if their whiskers are being plucked from their faces with tweezers carries even more. Not that I’m not proud of cat choir, but I may have exaggerated a little when I was telling Princess how good we are. Actually we kinda suck. Big time.

“How are we going to get out of this tree?” I asked.

“Beats me,” Brutus said. “I’ve never climbed this high before.”

He sounded just as unnerved as I was feeling.

“Max?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“If we get out of this alive, I want you to know I think you’re pretty brave.”

“Come again?”

“Discovering that murder weapon today? That took guts.”

“I only climbed that pipe because you locked us up.”

“You know why I did that, right?”

“Actually, I don’t.”

He hesitated.“The thing is… Chase isn’t my human.”

“He’s not?” This surprised me. “But I thought—”

“His mother is. She took me in straight from the nest. But then she got sick and had to go and live in some place where cats are not allowed, so Chase had to decide whether to put me in a shelter or to keep me. Lucky for me he kept me, but… well, let’s just say Chase isn’t much of a cat person.”

“No, he doesn’t strike me as one.”

“I mean, he never cuddles me, or scratches me behind my ears. He just feeds me and that’s it.”

“Yeah, but he feeds you real meat.”

He gave me a sad glance.“I’d trade all that for a cuddle. You and Odelia? You guys have such a great bond. She cares about you, and even lets you sleep on the bed and all.”

“Chase doesn’t let you sleep on the bed?”

“Never. He kicks me out of the house when he goes to bed.”

“That’s not very nice.”

He shrugged.“It’s all he knows, I guess. His mother was the same. Cats aren’t supposed to sleep in the house. They should be outside. Catch mice.”

“It’s nice to sleep on the bed,” I said. “Nice and warm and soft. In the morning I like to snuggle up to Odelia and she hugs me. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “I’d like to have a human who cares about me like that. That’s why I wanted to be the one to tell her about Dion Dread’s new show. That way she might want to, you know, adopt me, maybe?”

I hesitated, then said,“You know, if you like we can share Odelia. She’s got a big enough heart for two.”

He was silent for a beat, then said huskily,“Thank you, Max. I’d really like that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. You practically live with us anyway, so…”

He glanced at me.“You’re all right, Max.”

“You’re all right, too, Brutus.”

We gave an awkward high five and then lapsed into silence once more. All this talk of Odelia was fine and dandy, but if nobody came to save us, we’d probably never see her again. I just hoped Dooley was calling 911.

Chapter 16

Odelia woke up from a pronounced whispering nearby. She’d been dreaming of Chase, more particularly Chase’s remarkably soft lips, and she so didn’t want to wake up right now. The whispering persisted, and she dragged her mind back from her sweet dreams to the cold reality of her empty bed. Well, not completely empty. Two cats were seated next to her in the darkness.

She moved, and the whispering stopped. She closed her eyes, ready for more Chase. The whispering started again, Dooley and Harriet having some kind of argument.

“God. What’s with all the whispering?!”

“No, I’m not telling her,” Harriet was saying.

“We have to tell her,” Dooley said. “We can’t just leave them up there.”

“We can and we will,” Harriet insisted stubbornly.

Odelia smacked her lips. The pressure of Chase’s lips against hers lingered. If Real Chase was as good a kisser as Dream Chase she was hoping her dream might turn into a reality one day. Maybe the day hell froze over.

“Leave who where?” she finally asked, giving up on her dream.

“Max and Brutus are stuck in a tree,” said Dooley.

“Dooley!” hissed Harriet. “I told you not to tell her!”

“Look, I don’t care about Brutus, but this is Max we’re talking about. He could be stuck up there for days! Or even forever!”

“Serves him right. Serves them both right. They shouldn’t have made such a spectacle of themselves in the first place. And all over some dumb broad. She can’t even sing!”

Dooley giggled.“Yeah, she sounded pretty awful. No way she was John Paul George’s muse. She fooled us all.”

“Not me. She didn’t fool me. Not for one second.”

“What’s going on?” Odelia asked tiredly, propping herself up on her elbows. She stared into the darkness. All she could see were two pairs of cat’s eyes staring back at her.

“Max and Brutus decided to impress Princess,” Dooley said.

“The skankiest cat alive,” said Harriet.

“Princess isn’t skanky. She’s just… not a great singer.”

“She is skanky. A classy cat would never get two cats to fight over her.”

“Well, anyway,” said Dooley, “Max and Brutus decided to impress Princess so they climbed a tree.”

“Who gave them that idea?” asked Odelia, rubbing her eyes.

“Dooley did,” said Harriet. “This was all his idea. Yes, it was!”

“I just figured it would give Max an edge. It looked like Brutus was winning her over and Max was very upset so I told him to climb a tree.”

“So Brutus and Max were going after the same cat?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, they were.”

“But I thought you and Brutus were a thing, Harriet?”

“We were. And now we’re not. If he likes that stupid Princess he’s welcome to her.”

“So it’s official now?” asked Dooley. “You and Brutus are history?”

“Ancient history.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry.

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t mind being single again. I’m too young to be tied down. In fact Brutus did me a favor. A big one.”

“So where are Max and Brutus now?” asked Odelia. She was starting to get the picture.

“Still in that tree,” said Dooley. “They can’t get down. It’s too high.”

She did a mental head slap.“I better call the fire department.”

“Or you could leave them up there,” said Harriet, returning to her favorite theme. “At least a couple of days. That should teach them a lesson.”

“I can’t, Harriet. Max is my cat. I can’t leave him up there.”

“Then just leave Brutus up there. I’m sure Chase won’t mind.”

Yep. Cats were more like humans than people thought. A woman scorned and all that.“I have to get a hold of Chase. Tell him his cat is stuck in a tree.”

She swung her feet from between the sheets and found her slippers. She shuffled over to the window and opened the curtains. It was still completely dark out, though on the horizon she thought she could detect first light trying to hoist itself over the skyline. It was doing a pretty half-ass job of it, too.

“What time is it?” she asked with a yawn.

Dooley had joined her at the window.“Um, like, seven?”

“So how long have they been up there?”

“Since after midnight.”

“Oh, those poor dears. They must be terrified.”

“Especially since Max and Brutus hate each other,” said Harriet.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve eaten each other by now,” said Dooley. “Like in that Tom Hanks movie? When he was stuck on that island?”

“Tom Hanks didn’t eat anybody in that movie,” said Harriet.

“That’s because he was all alone out there, with nobody to eat. But Max and Brutus have each other.” He paused. “I wonder who’ll eat who. My money’s on Brutus. He’s bigger and tougher.”

“Max is bigger,” said Harriet.

“Yeah, but that’s all flab. Brutus is all muscle.”

“Nobody is eating anybody,” Odelia said.

“She’s right,” said Harriet, sounding worried now. “They’ve got bark. Wouldn’t they eat bark before eating each other? They’ve got plenty of bark.”

“Would you eat bark when you could gobble up a perfectly succulent cat like Max? I don’t think so,” said Dooley. He sighed. “I’m afraid the only thing you’ll find up there are a skeleton and a cat that looks like Tom Hanks.”

“Oh, no,” Harriet cried, and streaked over to Odelia. “You have to save them! You have to go out there right now and save them!”

“Relax. A couple of hours stuck in a tree won’t hurt them.” She hoisted up her jeans and slipped a sweater over her head. “In fact it might do them some good. Those two have done nothing but fight.” Maybe being cooped up together in the same treetop might knock some sense into them. Or not.

“Men are so stupid,” said Harriet, now practically in tears.

“Not all men,” said Dooley. “I wouldn’t climb a tree to impress Princess.”

“Bet you’d climb a tree to impress Harriet, though,” Odelia said, dragging her fingers through her hair. She knew Dooley had always had a soft spot for Harriet. Maybe now was his chance to score.

Dooley scraped his paw across the floor.“Maybe.”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet. “You would do that for me?”

He looked up, hope dawning.“Of course I would. In a heartbeat.”

She pressed a paw to her heart.“I take back what I said about you being responsible for Brutus and Max’s being stuck. You’re a true friend, Dooley.”

“Friend?” asked Dooley, sounding a little disappointed.

She nodded, a smile on her face.“One of my very best friends.”

Odelia grinned and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. As she left the room and headed down the stairs she was already dialing 911.

She arrived at the park the same time Chase did. Firemen were extending a ladder from the fire truck to the top of the tree. In spite of the early hour, Hampton Covians were flocking to, snapping pictures with their smartphones. Which reminded her… She took out her own phone and snapped a few shots. “For the Gazette,” she told Chase. And Facebook.

All around, cats were staring up at the tree, enjoying the show.

A fireman climbed the ladder and disappeared into the foliage. Max and Brutus had sure picked a great tree to climb. From where she stood she couldn’t see the top, even though firefighters had hit the floodlights and bathed the park in an eerie light.

Chase gave her a nudge.“So your cat and my cat, huh? Sitting in a tree.”

She rolled her eyes.“I don’t think they’re kissing, Chase.”

“You might be surprised,” he said with a shrug.

“They’re both males, remember?”

He frowned.“Are you sure about that?”

“Yah. Pretty sure.”

“I’ll take your word for it. How did you find out about this anyway?”

“Um… One of the neighbors heard them screeching and called me.”

He shook his head.“You’d think they’d have more sense.”

You’d think anyone would have more sense than to climb a tree to impress a girl. She got a sudden flash of Chase climbing a tree to impress her. He’d probably look like Alexander Skarsg?rd in that Tarzan movie.

He gave her an odd look.“Why are you staring at my shirt, Poole?”

She quickly looked away. The man was ripped. Even through his shirt she could see his bulging chest muscles. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, a black leather bomber jacket, and a pair of skinny jeans hugging narrow hips.“So… how’s the investigation going? Any word from the coroner?”

“Nope. But we’re expecting his report today.”

“Can I come?”

He grinned.“Sure. You can come whenever you want, Poole.”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and directed her eyes firmly at the tree. The fireman was descending the ladder, clutching two cats in his arms. They both looked pretty sheepish. Especially since the gaggle of cats was happy to comment. And they weren’t yelling their support. The consensus was that Brutus and Max were a couple of show-offs and got exactly what they deserved. Yep. Cats were pretty much like people.

“They look okay,” said Chase.

“Yeah, it could have been worse. They could have eaten each other.”

He cocked an eyebrow.“Cannibalism? Really?”

She shrugged.“Max gets pretty peckish after midnight.”

“I’d like to see him try. Brutus would slay him.”

She was sure he would. Which was why she was so surprised to see the two cats clutching at each other for support. It seemed that those few hours spent up there had brought them both to their senses.

“Look at that,” Chase said. “Two little buddies.”

The fireman finally reached the ground, and handed both cats to Odelia. She took them eagerly and pressed them in her arms. They clung to her for dear life. All around her there were oohs and aahs, and a loud applause for the fireman who’d risked life and limb to pluck two dumb cats out of a tree.

“They were up in the highest branch,” he said, taking off his helmet and scratching his scalp. “Hugging each other. It was the damnedest thing.”

“I told you,” said Chase. “They’re buddies.”

She tried to hand Brutus over to Chase. He refused to let go.

“Look at that, Poole. He likes you.”

She gave Chase a frown.“You’re not secretly a cat hater, are you?”

“Me? I love cats. Well, maybe not love them, but I don’t hate them.”

“Brutus is not Chase’s cat,” Max explained. “He belonged to Chase’s mother, but she had to go live someplace where they don’t like cats so he ended up with Chase. He never even hugs him, Odelia. He doesn’t care.”

“I’m all right,” said Brutus. “Chase feeds me meat.”

“Yeah, but you can’t live on meat alone,” said Max.

Chase laughed.“For a minute there I thought they were talking to you.”

Her frown deepened.“How many times a day do you cuddle your cat?”

He looked at her as if she’d sprouted wings. “Cuddle my cat? Um…”

Her lips tightened. She hated cat haters.“Adopting a cat is accepting a sacred responsibility, Chase. Cats need to be loved and lavished with TLC.”

He stared at her.“TLC. Okay. And what’s that got to do with me?”

“Brutus spends more time at my place than yours. Which tells me you’re not taking particularly good care of him.”

“Me? Not taking care of him? I love the little bugger.” He gingerly patted Brutus. “Besides, cats are solitary creatures. They don’t need TLC.”

She raised an eyebrow. Both cats were still clinging to her like crazy and weren’t letting go. “Do they look like solitary creatures to you?”

“Yeah, but that’s because they just went through this ordeal. I’m sure they’ll be fine once you put them down. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if they went scooting up the nearest tree the moment you do.”

She shook her head.“You have to start taking better care of your cat.”

“Look, he’s not even my cat, all right? He belongs to my mom. In fact I’ve never had a cat in my life. I had a goldfish once, but that didn’t end well.”

“Well, now that you have a cat, you better learn how to take care of him.”

He gave her a goofy look.“Maybe you can teach me?”

She blinked.“Teach you?”

“Sure. You’re crazy cat lady, right? Teach me what you know.”

She handed Brutus to him and he held him up so he was dangling. Cat and human stared at each other, sizing each other up. Neither looked happy.“Oh, for Christ’s sakes,” she muttered, and showed him how to hold a cat, with his left arm providing support for Brutus’s backside and his right hand holding him steady. “Now just caress him. Cats love to be stroked.”

With his big hand he patted the cat’s head, practically squishing him.

“Not like that. Gently.”

He stroked along Brutus’s head. The cat had one eye closed and looked like he was ready to escape. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s better.”

Brutus seemed surprised. He turned to her.“Gee, thanks, Odelia.”

She gave him a wink.“We’ll make a crazy cat man out of you yet, Detective.”

He grimaced.“Anything to keep this little sucker from waking me up at five in the morning.”

Her eyes went wide.“Five? I thought it was after seven.”

He scooted up Brutus’s butt and checked his watch. “Nope. Five thirty.”

She gave Dooley a hard stare. He shrugged sheepishly.“I was worried about Max.”

“Thanks, buddy,” said Max.

“It’s so funny,” said Chase, still stroking Brutus’s head. “It’s as if they’re talking.”

“Of course they’re talking. Cats are intelligent creatures. They talk.”

“I’ll be damned.” Brutus had closed his eyes, and was softly purring. Chase gave her a look of surprise. “Do you hear that? I think he likes me.”

She grinned.“Congratulations. That’s the sound of a happy cat.”

Yep. She’d turn this tough NYPD detective into a cat lover yet.

Chapter 17

After tossing and turning for half an hour, Odelia finally gave up trying to get back to sleep. She dragged herself out of bed for the second time that morning, and headed into the bathroom. The moment she caught sight of her face, she yelped. Gah! Was this what she’d looked like that morning in the park? She looked like a contestant on one of those survival shows. The ones where they have to eat bugs and wash themselves in a stream. She quickly did the shower and getting dressed thing and headed down for breakfast.

Max, Harriet and Dooley followed her. They were uncharacteristically quiet. Max was still recovering from his tree adventure. Harriet was in mourning over the end of her affair with Brutus. And Dooley looked like he was trying to come up with a way to win over Harriet. Now that Brutus was out of the picture he thought he had a shot. Poor, misguided creature.

“I have to run, you guys,” she said after munching down on a piece of toast smothered with butter and jam. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, all right? Like climb trees and get stuck. I’m looking at you, Max.”

“Can we tag along?” Harriet asked. “I need something to distract me.”

“Sure. You can help me write a killer article about Dion. And about Max’s adventure.” She gave him a wink. “You can give me the inside view.”

“Please don’t,” Max groaned. “I feel like such a sucker for getting stuck.”

“Cheer up. Cats don’t read newspapers so they won’t make fun of you.”

“They don’t read the paper but they look at the pictures. When they see me, clutching Brutus and that fireman, they’ll never let me live it down.”

“Well, it’s news. So I have to write about it. If I don’t, Dan will.”

“Oh, all right,” he grumbled. “I’ll give you my exclusive story.”

She poured the contents of her coffee pot into the stainless steel travel mug her mom had bought her for her birthday and headed out. She opened the door to her old Ford pickup and her feline brood hopped up onto the backseat and made themselves comfortable. She’d put their favorite blanket back there and always had a plastic bowl and a few pouches of cat food lying around in case they got hungry. She flung her purse on the passenger seat, placed her coffee mug on the dash, and peeled away from the curb.

First stop: the police station. Charging Dion was a formality, so it should be over pretty quick. Next stop: the Gazette. Make Dan a happy editor by finally writing the definitive article on the Shana Kenspeckle murder.

She parked in the designated spot in front of the police station and hopped out, the three cats right behind her. While they went in search of the latest tidbit from the gossip mill in town, she waltzed into the station house.

As usual, Dolores was at her desk in the vestibule, ready to welcome the latest complaints from the citizenry, ranging from parking tickets, lost wallets and kids playing ding dong dash. She gave Dolores a finger wave and sailed right on past the display case showcasing Uncle Alec’s fishing trophies. She entered his office at the end of the hall without knocking, and saw that Chase was already seated in front of her uncle. Both men looked pretty despondent.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily, and placed her coffee mug on the Chief’s desk. “Someone die?” she asked when she didn’t get a response.

Her uncle flung a report in her direction and she snatched it up. It was the coroner’s report. She quickly flipped through it, until she reached the section about the murder weapon. There was a lot of text and medical jargon and her eyes glazed over. “Just give me the short version.”

“Dion Dread didn’t do it,” her uncle said.

Her jaw dropped. She looked at Chase but he nodded somberly.

“No way,” she finally managed.

“Way,” her uncle rasped. “Abe studied the wound and said he’d never seen anything like it, except maybe at the butcher shop. He said that whoever killed Shana chopped off her head in a single stroke. Which leads him to believe that the killer most likely works in the meat industry.”

“Or the Mafia,” Chase muttered.

“So? Maybe Dion Dread used to temp at a butcher shop?”

“I checked. He didn’t. What’s worse, Abe is convinced the killer is right-handed.” He eyed her intently. “Dion is a southpaw.”

“Maybe he switched hands? To throw us off the scent?”

Her uncle shook his head.“According to Abe that’s an impossibility. The blow was administered with such precision and skill that there’s no question. The killer was right-handed, and he or she knew what they were doing. Which rules out Mr. Dread. I cut him loose half an hour ago.” He placed his hands on the desk, palms down. “I’m afraid you’re up to bat again, team. Shana Kenspeckle’s killer is still out there. Maybe planning his next kill.”

Chase gave a shake of the head.“Always the optimist, aren’t you, Chief?”

The chief shrugged.“Just facing the facts, buddy.”

Chase cut his eyes to Odelia.“Ready for another day at the Kenspeckles, Poole?”

She nodded automatically.“Well, heck. I really thought we had our guy.”

“Well, we didn’t, so he’s off the hook.”

“Can’t you arrest him for something else?”

Uncle Alec grinned.“Cheating on your wife is not a punishable offense, Odelia. At least not in this country. And neither is being a conceited ass.”

Chase got up.“We’ll interview the film crew. They might know something. Besides.” He gestured to the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Who doesn’t want to spend it with America’s first family?”

She groaned, and Uncle Alec gave her a commiserating look.“Better get moving, honey. Camille Kenspeckle is on her way over here. She’s convinced it’s terrorists that killed her daughter, and she wants the FBI involved.”

She nodded and got to her feet.“We’ll solve this case,” she said, trying to project more confidence than she was feeling right then.

“By the way, how is Max?” Uncle Alec asked. “Not too traumatized after that tree incident this morning?” He had a twinkle in his eye. Her uncle was one of the few people who knew all Poole women could talk to their cats.

“Max is fine,” she said. “A little shaken but fine.”

“Brutus is fine, too, Chief,” said Chase. “Thanks for asking.”

The Chief leaned back in his chair.“Oh, but I know Brutus is fine. That cat is built like a tank. It’s Max I’m worried about. He’s such a snowflake.”

“Ha ha ha,” she said, and followed Chase out of the office.

“You know, Brutus has been purring up a storm all morning,” Chase said as they walked down the hall. “I’ve been doing what you told me to and I’ve never seen him so happy. Who knew cats could be so clingy?”

“Yeah, well, cats are like humans, Chase. They need a lot of affection.”

They reached the front door and he opened it for her, placing his hand on the small of her back. She cocked an eyebrow.“What do you think you’re doing?”

He gave her an innocent look.“What you taught me. Giving affection?”

“I’m not a feline, Chase.”

“You still need affection.”

“Not from you, I don’t.”

He grinned.“Look who’s being catty.”

Chapter 18

The three of us were strolling along Main Street and I have to confess I was feeling out of sorts. This whole tree experience had rattled me. Until this morning Brutus and I had been sworn enemies, but up there, locked away from the world, we’d developed some kind of bond. The same thing happens to people shipwrecked on some desert island. I think it’s called Stockholm syndrome. Though as far as I know Stockholm isn’t an island. Oh, well.

We arrived at Wilbur Vickery’s store, and took a seat on the pavement right outside, where Wilbur keeps his fruit and veg display. The General Store attracts a lot of cats, and Wilbur’s cat Kingman is a real chatty tabby. So it’s a great place to find out what’s going on in town. I have to admit my heart wasn’t in it today, and neither were Dooley’s or Harriet’s for that matter.

We’d just found ourselves a great spot in the shade, when Brutus ambled up. I looked at him. He looked at me. We looked away. This was awkward.

“So, what are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“Just hanging out,” I said. “Collecting some gossip for Odelia’s articles.”

He shook his head.“You know? The weirdest thing happened this morning.”

“I know. I was there, remember?”

“No, after that. Chase began to pet me and he hasn’t stopped. Picking me up all the time, tickling my chin, fluffing up my ears. He even put me on his lap while he was doing research on the computer… about cat grooming! Says he’s going to buy a brush and start working on my coat. Can you believe it?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?” I asked. “More TLC?”

“I did, but now I’m wondering if it isn’t too much of a good thing. I mean, I’m not used to this, let me tell you. It kinda freaks me out, to be honest.”

“You can’t have too much cuddling,” Dooley said, giving Brutus a frown.

“At least Chase is acknowledging you,” Harriet said frostily.

Brutus gave her a sheepish look. “Yeah, Harriet, I, um, I’m sorry about last night, all right? I acted like a complete and total jerk. I don’t know what came over me but I guess I was under the spell of that female or something.”

Harriet stuck her nose in the air and snapped,“Youwere a jerk.”

“I know,” he said contritely. “And I’m sorry.” He gave Dooley a glare when the latter started humming the Justin Bieber song. “Look, you know you’re the only one for me, sugar plum. There’s no one I love more.”

Harriet’s nose rose a little higher still. “You really hurt me, Brutus.”

“I know, I know. And I’ll make it up to you. What about I take you out to dinner tonight? I know this great little place where they serve the best veal in town. And there will be music, too. They’ve got a fantastic live band.”

Her curiosity was piqued.“The best veal in town? And a live band?”

“Sure. The owner’s cat owes me. I removed a splinter from his butt once, but that’s not important. It’s called The Hungry Pipe, near the marina. We can enjoy a nice private dinner on the roof, and listen to that band swinging up a storm in the garden below. Best seats in the house. You’lllove it, babe.”

It was obvious Harriet was melting. She still had her nose in the air, but her tail was vibrating, which in her case usually meant she was excited.

“What do you say, sweet pea? You and me? Back in the saddle?”

Harriet smiled and streaked over to Brutus, rubbing her tail against him.“Oh, Brutus, you always had a way with words. You’ve got four yesses from the jury. So what do we do in the meantime? Still a long time before tonight.”

“We’ve got the whole day to ourselves, honey pie. A whole day to get to know each other all over again, and forget all about that nasty Princess.”

“Go on,” she purred. “I’m liking what I hear so far.”

“We can canoodle under a park bench, chase some ducks…”

She giggled.“You had me at canoodle, boyfriend. Let’s go.”

“Hey, what about the investigation?” Dooley asked.

“What investigation?” Harriet said. “They caught the killer.”

“See you,” said Brutus, and the couple strode off, giggling and cooing.

Dooley and I stared after them, Dooley looking pretty dumbfounded.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Brutus and Harriet made up.”

“But why? I was just about to make my move.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret, Dooley?”

He blinked and I thought he was going to cry.“I suppose so.”

“Harriet doesn’t feel that way about you, buddy. She never will.”

“But she can learn to love me, can’t she? Given enough time, she might…” His voice trailed off, and now he was snuffling.

“Cats like Harriet are tough babies, Dooley. And tough babies don’t fall for sweet cats like you. They need a tough guy like Brutus.”

“I’m a tough guy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a sweetheart, and some cats don’t dig sweethearts. One day you’ll find the right cat, but that cat won’t be Harriet, I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid you might be right,” he said in a choked voice.

I patted him on the back.“You’ll get over it. Lots of cats in the world.”

He sniffled some more. “So what did you and Brutus talk about up there?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

He gave me a sad look.“So you two are friends now, huh? Besties?”

I laughed.“I don’t know what we are, but I’m pretty sure we’ll never be besties.” I gave him a light shove. “You’re my bestie, Dooley. You know that.”

He nodded and licked his nose.“At least there’s that.”

“Oh, and by the way, thanks for saving me from that tree. If not for you I would probably still be up there.”

“Serious question, Max. And I want you to be honest with me.”

I frowned, prepared for Dooley’s deepest thoughts. “Shoot.”

“Were you ever tempted to take a bite out of Brutus?”

I stared at him.“What? Of course not. Why would I want to bite Brutus?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did he try to take a bite out of you?”

“Of course not! Brutus may be a lot of things but he’s not a cannibal.”

He nodded seriously.“Oh, I see. So you ate bark, then?”

“No, I didn’t eat bark. I was too nervous to eat. I was stuck in a tree.”

“How can you be too worried to eat? I’m never too worried to eat.”

That was true. Dooley loves to eat. Even now, when he was down over Harriet and Brutus getting back together, he was sniffing at an apple someone had dropped. And I’m pretty sure Dooley doesn’t even like apples.

Just then, a car skidded to a stop at the curb. The door opened and Odelia stepped out.“Hop in, you two. We’re going back to the Kenspeckles.”

Dooley and I did as we were told. I saw that Chase was behind the wheel.

“Is this really necessary?” the burly cop asked.

“Cats love to ride around in cars,” Odelia said, slamming the door shut.

“They do?” Chase put the car in gear. “I thought that was dogs.”

“Nope. Cats love cars. They like to stick their heads out the window and flap their tongues in the breeze.”

“Pretty sure that’s dogs.”

She cocked her head.“Look, who are you going to believe, Chase? Crazy cat lady or some stupid internet site?”

He shrugged.“If you say so. Buckle up, you guys. It’s Kenspeckle time.”

“Again?” I asked. “I thought we were through with that place.”

“Dion Dread didn’t do it,” Odelia said, and she did not look happy.

“So who did?” I asked.

She shrugged.“That’s for us to find out.”

Chase glanced over.“Are you talking to your cats now? Is that what you’re doing?”

“Uh-huh. I told you, Chase. They’re intelligent creatures.”

He shook his head.“Youare a crazy cat lady, lady.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

Chapter 19

Odelia and Chase were back for round two, but it was obvious from the moment they arrived at the gate they weren’t exactly welcome. And why would they be? Yesterday they’d arrested Dion Dread, kept him to cool his expensively shod heels for one night and then cut him loose. The word about Dion’s treatment at the hands of the Hampton Cove police must have spread, and the Kenspeckles were closing ranks and protecting their own.

Security had been beefed up, and they had a hard time making it past the gate. Two burly guards held vicious-looking Doberman Pinschers on short leashes, anxious to sic them on anyone who gave them the side-eye.

Finally, Chase’s beat-up pickup rumbled through the gate and up the driveway. He parked in front of the house. Another day in paradise.

“I have a feeling we’re not as welcome as we were yesterday,” Odelia said as she let Max and Dooley out of the car. At least nobody could prevent the two cats from snooping around. She just hoped there weren’t any Dobermans around. Even if there were, Max and Dooley could take care of themselves. Plenty of trees on the property.

“Yeah, I think they want this investigation over with,” Chase said as they circled the house and headed to the back.

They found Shayonne and Shalonda by the pool, Shayonne engrossed in Star Magazine and Shalonda in Us Weekly. They both had cotton balls between their toes. They were reading with sunglasses perched on their rhinoplastic noses, their surgically enhanced boobs practically popping from tiny bikini tops. They didn’t even look up when they passed.

Chase had set up interviews with the crew, and they headed for the guest house, which sat fifty yards from the main house. It was a backyard bungalow. Slate gray weatherboard with a nice porch. Big enough for a small family. Or a television crew.

On a concrete slab next to the house, a makeshift outdoor gym was constructed, and Stanbury Boa was on his back on a power bench, lifting a massive barbell. The veins in his neck stood out like cords as he bench-pressed the iron, his arms pumping up and down like pistons. He had a smoothly shaved head and wore a red bandana, a pair of American flag swim trunks and a lot of attitude.

“Hi there,” Odelia said pleasantly. “Can we ask you a few questions? Is now a convenient time for you, Mr. Boa?”

He merely growled something and continued pushing out his reps.

Chase stepped up.“Hampton Cove police, buddy. Where were you the night Shana Kenspeckle was murdered?”

Boa racked the barbell and sat up, dusting chalk from his hands.“I was right here, guarding the property,” he growled, hitting them with his best glare, the one he probably hoped would land him a role next to Vin Diesel in the nextFast& Furious movie.

“If you were so busy guarding the property how come you didn’t catch the killer?” asked Chase.

The bodyguard’s eyes darkened. He seemed foreign born, judging from his accent. “I was guarding the property against outside intruders. How was I to know that one of them—” He gestured to the main house, where Dion had just walked out and stood stretching. “—would kill one of their own?”

“So you think one of the Kenspeckles killed Shana?” asked Odelia.

“No one came onto the property. At night security around this place is tight. I see to that.”

“Have you heard any rumors who might have done it?” asked Chase.

“I’ve heard no such rumors. But you may want to interview the sisters. They hated Shana’s guts.”

“And why was that?”

He shifted his massive shoulder in a shrug.“Sibling rivalry. They couldn’t stand that Shana was more successful than they were. More popular.”

“What about the crew?” asked Chase.

“You should talk to Alejandro,” said the giant. “He would do anything to get his show to the top of the ratings again. Last week I heard him tell Burr that he was praying for a murder.”

“He said that?” asked Odelia.

“Yes, he did. He said only a juicy murder would get people to watch the show again. They were on the verge of being canceled.” He nodded curtly. “I think that’s enough motive for murder, don’t you, Detective?”

With these words, he lay back down and picked up the huge barbell again. With an animal-like grunt, he launched into another grueling set.

“Wow, I wouldn’t like to get into a fight with that guy,” Odelia said as she tripped after Chase. She had to take two strides for every one of his.

“Pfft. He’s all show. I’ll bet those muscles aren’t even real.”

“They looked pretty real to me.”

“Trust me. It’s all steroids, growth hormone and synthol injections.”

Sounded like someone was a little envious. Then again, Chase didn’t have to be jealous of Boa the man mountain. The cop was built like a Hulk himself.

The guest house was tastefully decorated. Like the main house, white was the dominant color, the floors a warm mahogany in contrast. They’d stepped into the foyer and the man they’d come to see was comfortably seated on a white leather couch, reading a copy of Men’s Fitness. Alejandro was wearing a yellow polo shirt and beige slacks and looked like a million bucks. When he got up to greet them, he did so with outstretched hands and a killer smile. He kissed them on the cheeks. Twice. Surprised, Chase touched the spot. Bet that hadn’t happened to him when he interviewed gangbangers in the Bronx.

“Please, sit down,” Alejandro said. “Make yourself at home.”

They took a seat on the white leather couch, and Odelia saw that Alejandro seemed very eager to talk to them. He sat ramrod straight and eyed them brightly, a smile on his face. Before they could ask him a question, he announced,“I think you should look into the terrorism angle again.”

“We already established that the note was a fake,” said Chase.

“Yes, but have you considered that perhaps this terrorist simply wasn’t well-versed in the Arabic language?” Alejandro asked, his brows arching. “Not all terrorists have a college degree, Detectives. One might even make an argument that most terrorists never had any schooling at all. It’swell established that a lot of them are ordinary criminals who turned to terrorism because it pays better and lends them prestige and self-esteem. Most of them are not even ideologically motivated. They’re simply in it for the money.”

He continued with wide gestures of his hands.“You have a terrorist who’s not schooled, who decides the Kenspeckles would make an excellent target. He does his business and leaves that crudely written note, merely showing he doesn’t have a thorough grasp of grammar, and voila. Case closed.”

Chase shook his head.“I really don’t think the terrorist angle is a viable one, Mr. Salanova. For one thing, security around the house was tight that night, and we’ve already established that the murder was an inside job.”

“So? That simply means this house has been infiltrated by a terrorist.”

“Do you really think a terrorist would target Shana and leave the others unharmed?” asked Odelia. “Wouldn’t a real terrorist murder the entire family when he had the chance?”

This gave the flamboyant director pause. Then he brightened.“Perhaps he’s planning to do the others at a later date? Like a staggered terror spree?”

Chase, obviously bored with the terrorist angle, asked,“Where were you between four and five the night Shana Kenspeckle was killed, Mr. Salanova?”

His eyes went wide.“Me? You suspect me?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until we find the killer, sir. So where were you?”

“Right here, sleeping in my bed,” said the director. “Mentally preparing myself for another day of making the best reality show on the planet.”

“Isn’t it true that the best reality show on the planet was losing steam?” Odelia asked.

The director brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow.“Pardon?”

“We were told you were so anxious to boost the dropping ratings of your show that you figured a nice, juicy murder might just do the trick.”

He waved an airy hand.“I may have made such a comment, but it was only in jest. I merely wanted to convey the message that it would take a miracle to get our numbers back up to an acceptable level.”

“So you admit that your show is in peril?” Odelia asked.

He smiled that bright smile of his. She wondered if it was veneers or implants. Either way, his choppers looked amazing.“Of course I do. And I hate it. This show is a passion project. It has put my name on the map.”

“So you would do anything to salvage your show—even commit murder,” Odelia stated, taking a leaf from Chase’s book.

Alejandro draped his arms over the back of the couch and leaned back.“You do have a way with words, Detective.”

“Oh, but I’m not a detective,” she said. “I’m a consultant. And a reporter.”

“I knew it. Your facility with the language is remarkable. Yes, I would do anything to extend the life of this show. But I would never kill a person to do so. Besides, without Shana Kenspeckle this show is doomed. She was my star, the biggest and brightest celebrity to step onto the stage. With her gone, the show won’t last another season.”

“What about the rest of the Kenspeckles?” asked Chase.

“Shana was the reason people watched this show. There isn’t enough star power in the rest of the Kenspeckles to carry the weight of such a show. Oh, I’m sure it will go on for a while. People will be curious to see the episodes we’re shooting right now. But soon they’ll get bored with theshenanigans of Shayonne and Shalonda and the others and that will be the end of it.”

So much for the murder giving the show a new lease on life. “Can you think of anyone who’d want the show to get canceled?” Odelia asked.

The director quickly checked around, then lowered his voice.“Eamonn was very vocal about wanting to leave the show. Unfortunately the poor boy signed an ironclad contract that basically ties him to this show in perpetuity.”

Chase checked his notebook.“Eamonn Dot is one of the writers?”

“He is. And he hates this show with a vengeance. Unfortunately he signed the contract back when he was an absolute nobody, and the network likes his work so much they’re keeping him around, even though he’s expressed a wish to be removed from the production. He’s already had to say no to several other projects he’d expressed an interest in, because he’s tied to this show.”

“What about you? Aren’t you anxious to do something else?” Chase asked.

“Oh, but I can,” said the director. “I never signed such a silly contract. I can walk away whenever I want.” He placed his hand on his heart. “But I so love my Kenspeckles. They’re a part of me now, and I don’t want to let go.”

Probably the fact that he got paid a nice packet didn’t hurt either. They thanked the director, who seemed disappointed they didn’t want to extend the interview, and went looking for Eamonn Dot, the troubled screenwriter.

They found him out on the terrace behind the guest house, where he was typing up a storm on his MacBook. He looked a little rattled when they approached him, but then writers usually are a high-strung bunch.

“Eamonn Dot? Police,” Chase said, producing his badge. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about the Shana Kenspeckle murder.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, quickly closing his MacBook.

They drew up a couple of iron chairs, the claw feet scraping against the hardwood, and launched into the interview. Odelia was starting to get the hang of this thing. Being a cop was all about asking the right questions, and trying to get the suspect to reveal stuff they didn’t necessarily want to reveal.

“Is it true you were dying to get out of this gig?” asked Chase.

The writer, a bespectacled skinny type with thinning hair and a lot of pimples, blinked nervously.“I—who told you that? I mean, not that it’s true.”

“Just answer the question.”

“I, well…” He looked around anxiously. “Are you going to tell the network about this? Cause I may not be completely satisfied with this gig, but that doesn’t mean I want to antagonize the network. Never antagonize the network, Detective. They’re the ones with the power to blackball you.”

“We’re not going to tell the network,” Odelia assured him.

He bit his lip.“All right. That’s good. That’s great.” He picked up a packet of cigarettes and offered them one. They both declined. He lit one up and took an eager drag. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, I wasn’t happy with this job. I am not happy with this job. In fact it’s probably the worst job in the world.Well, maybe not. Sewer inspector or professional dog and cat food taster or armpit sniffer are up there with being a writer for the Kenspeckles. I, um…” He took another long drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, writing those horrible treatments, outlining those stupid scenes, having to endure thathammy acting…” He shook his head. “It’s all very draining. Excruciatingly draining.”

Odelia had the impression the writer was mistaking them for his shrink, as the flow of words was almost unstoppable.

“So you didn’t like the show?” Chase asked, stating the obvious.

“No, I don’t like the show. It’s the worst show on television and I’m in it up to my eyeballs. Can you imagine how soul-sucking it is to write the kind of terrible drama that is required of me? For one thing, I have to keep abreast of all the gossip. I spend hours and hours reading gossip magazines. It’s brutal.”

Hey, this job didn’t sound so bad. Who didn’t love gossip magazines? And this guy was getting paid to do it? Cool. “So why don’t you quit?” she asked.

His hand trembled.“I—I can’t. There’s an exclusivity clause in my contract. I signed back when I was an absolute nobody and now I’m stuck.”

“So you decided that the only way to get the show canceled was to kill off one of the principals,” Chase said, nodding.

“Yeah—wait, what? No! No, I—I would never do that. I… I’m not a killer, Detective. I—I can’t stand the sight of blood. And gore. I don’t even watchThe Walking Dead. Zombies freak me out. And blood. It’s the senseless violence. It gets to me.” He took another, long drag. “You sure you don’t…”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” Chase said. “Where were you when Shana was killed, Mr. Dot?”

He gestured to a window that looked out onto the terrace. “Right here. In my room. I’m in the smallest room in the house. More like a broom cupboard. Harry Potter size.” He grimaced. “It’s the curse of the writer. But that doesn’t mean I killed Shana. For one thing, I owe my career to this show. Once it’s canceled, I can get any job I want. And it’s made me a lot of money. A fixed income. Do you know how many writers would kill their mother to get on a show like this? Thousands. Not literally kill their mother. It’s just a figure of speech. Most of my colleagues are out of work. I may hate my job, and it’s one of the soul-suckiest jobs on the planet, but it’s a job. I get paid.”

“Do you have any idea who might be behind the murder?” asked Odelia.

The guy put out his cigarette with nervous jabs and nodded feverishly.“One of the girls here got a really bum deal. She was attacked by Shana.”

Chase frowned.“Shana got physical with a crew member?”

He expelled a jittery laugh.“Not physical, Detective, but she did make her life a living hell. Don’t tell her I told you, but I think you better have a word with Laurelle. Laurelle Merritt? She’s the stylist. She…” He coughed. “She had the bright idea to make a sex tape. She showed the tape to Shana, hoping she would make her famous. All Shana did was show the tape to her sisters. They found the whole thing hilarious and started sending it around to their friends as a joke. Laurelle was shattered.” He blinked. “Shana Kenspeckle was the original mean girl, Detectives. The Shana you see on the screen? Thatwas my creation. The real Shana was not a very nice person.”

Chapter 20

Dooley and I had settled down at our new favorite spot: on top of that nice leather couch in the Kenspeckle living room. From here we had a great view of all the goings-on at the house, and could report back to Odelia with any new developments.

“We have to tell Odelia to get a nice couch like this,” Dooley said as he dug his claws into the leather. “I like it. It’s got everything a cat needs.”

“I like it too,” I said. “Though I don’t know what the Kenspeckles are going to say when they find out you’re ruining the couch, Dooley.”

“I’m not ruining it. I’m merely adding my personal touch.”

Rich people usually don’t have cats. They have dogs, and train them not to ruin the expensive furniture. You can’t train cats not to sink their claws into the upholstery. Not that we’re dumb or something. We just don’t care.

“So have you solved the murder yet?” Dooley asked.

“Nope. But I bet it’s a guy. Butchers are usually guys. And according to Abe we’re dealing with a real butcher. As in a professional meat carver.”

“So Dion or Damien? But Dion is innocent.”

“What about Damien? Rappers are butchers. Butchers of taste.”

All right. So I don’t like rap music. Sue me.

We both watched as Damien paced the living room, deeply engrossed in thought. From time to time he muttered a few snatches of song, punching the air like a kickboxer, then shook his head and paced some more. He was obviously in the throes of the creative process.

Dooley turned to me.“I don’t think it’s Damien.”

“I think you’re right. A doofus like that can’t be the killer.”

Which left… Boa the bodyguard, Burr the cameraman, Alejandro the director, or the writer. Or any of the other bodyguards. Oh, boy. Sleuthing had never been so hard. “I’ll bet it’s Boa,” I said. “He looks like a butcher.”

“Oh, look,” said Dooley. “Speak of the devil.”

The big bodyguard came lumbering up, the ground practically quaking where he stepped. He was all sweaty and oily, his big muscles flexing and moving beneath his tan skin. Man, the guy was ripped.

“I wonder why they haven’t fired him,” I said. “I mean, Shana was killed on his watch. You’d think they’d get rid of him as soon as possible.”

We watched as Shalonda waved the bodyguard over. He bent over her, placing his hands on either side of her head, and then… kissed her. And I mean really kissed her. Not a brotherly kiss or anything but a no-holds-barred French kiss from what I could tell. He rose up, a giggling Shalonda dangling from his neck, he staggered to the pool, and they both toppled in.

“I think I know why he wasn’t fired,” Dooley said.

The moment they resurfaced, there was more kissing, and before we knew what happened, Boa dispensed with Shalonda’s bathing suit and our world suddenly turned into an X-rated movie. The kind Odelia doesn’t allow us to watch. We both stared at the scene, transfixed, our jaws dropping.

“Um. I think I see what you mean, Dooley,” I said.

I wanted to avert my eyes but I couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck. You just can’t look away no matter how wrong you know it is.

“Max?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What are they doing?”

“It’s called sex, Dooley. It’s what humans do when they make a baby.”

“Oh. So they’re making a baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought they were trying to eat each other.”

“No. I’m pretty sure they’re making a baby.”

“Oh, all right.”

Five minutes later, they were through, and since they were both still alive, it was obvious I was right and Dooley wasn’t. They’d made a Kenspeckle. Shayonne seemed less impressed with her sister’s shenanigans than we were. She was sleeping, her mouth open, snoring softly. Not a pretty sight.

Shalonda emerged from the pool and plunked down on her chaise. She looked exhausted. Apparently making new Kenspeckles was hard work.

I searched around for the cameraman, wondering if he caught all that baby making with his camera, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Apparently making new Kenspeckles wasn’t part of the setup. This wasn’t Big Brother.

Just then, it was as if a bomb went off. Only it wasn’t a bomb but a leggy female with short raven hair and sunglasses covering half the acreage of her face. She strode up like a model on a catwalk, took one look at Shayonne, Shalonda and Boa, and bellowed, “Is this the way to greet your mother?”

Mother? And then I recognized her. Camille Kenspeckle had arrived. The original queen bee. She had a fur coat casually wrapped around her shoulders, and struck a pose, looking like the female version of Xander Cage.

Shayonne awoke with a start. When she caught sight of her mother, she squealed with delight, producing a sound so high only Dooley and I could hear it. And her sister, apparently, for Shalonda tumbled from the lounger, looked around dazedly, and scrambled up the moment she saw Camille. Both girls dashed around the pool and threw themselves into their mother’s arms. Boa, who’d been underwater when all this happened, emerged to the happy prattle of the reunion, and looked less thrilled. He probably feared for his employment. He stepped from the pool and approached the threesome.

“Hi, Camille,” he said.

“Boa. Where are they?”

Boa gestured to the guest house, and I got the impression they were talking about Odelia and Chase.

“Find them,” Camille ordered, “and bring them to me.”

She sounded like a warlord, ordering slaves to be fetched for execution.

Boa nodded curtly and stalked over to the guesthouse. Meanwhile, Dion and Damien had also joined the happy reunion, and even Kane had come running. The bulldog was yapping up a storm, barking at Camille as if he’d never seen her before, jumping up against Dion and Damien’s legs, barking at Shayonne and Shalonda and generally creating a big fuss.

“That dog is such an idiot,” Dooley said.

“He is,” I agreed. Staring at the dog, a thought occurred to me, but when I tried to catch it, it vanished. There was something about Kane. But what?

Oh, well. It probably wasn’t important.

Chapter 21

Laurelle Merritt’s room wasn’t much bigger than Eamonn’s. The door was open so Odelia and Chase announced their presence by giving the doorpost a quick rap. Laurelle was sitting cross-legged on the bed, pictures and fashion magazines spread out all around her. She had a narrow, pale face, framed by a black bob, and was dressed in khaki shorts and a sleeveless maroon shirt.

“Hampton Cove police,” Chase said. “Mind if we ask you a few questions, Miss Merritt?”

“Oh, of course,” she said. “Um, come in. I’m sorry about the mess.”

Odelia glanced around. The room was barely big enough to contain the bed, a vanity and a desk, and every available surface was crammed with stuff. Clothes, samples, magazines, makeup, wigs, clothes… Everything stuffed into the small space. “If you like we could do the interview outside,” she said.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. It probably won’t take long, right?”

“No, just a few routine questions,” Chase said. He was a lot kinder to Laurelle than he’d been to Boa or the others. Her story had touched a chord. “First off, where were you the night Shana Kenspeckle was killed?” he asked as he cleared away a few magazines and took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“I was right here. Asleep.”

Odelia leaned against the desk.“Can anyone vouch for that?”

Laurelle shook her head.“I sleep alone, if that’s what you mean. I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, so…” Her voice trailed off, and Odelia felt genuinely sorry for the young woman. She looked like a scared little mouse.

“We have to ask,” she said softly.

“Of course. No, I get it. Just ask me anything you want.”

This was probably a waste of time. It was obvious Laurelle wasn’t the killer. She could probably hardly lift that cleaver, let alone wield it with such deadly force and precision. Still, they had to interview everyone on their list.

“There is one other thing we need to discuss, Miss Merritt,” Chase said.

“Yes?” she asked, eyes large.

“We’ve been told about the tape.”

“Yes?”

“The sex tape?” Odelia asked.

Shock appeared in the girl’s eyes. “Who-who told you?”

“That’s not important. Is it true?” asked Chase.

Laurelle buried her face in her hands.“Oh, no.”

“I’m sorry to have to bring this up,” said Chase. “But we need to know.”

She nodded, then said, in a choked voice,“I made that tape back when I was still seeing this guy. He worked as a caterer and I thought he was the one.” She shook her head. “So stupid. He convinced me that to make it in this business I should make a sex tape. It would put my name on the map. Give me exposure. I-I wasn’t totally convinced but-but he was adamant.”

Chase’s jaw was working. If this caterer were here right now he’d probably give him a piece of his mind. And his fist.

Laurelle looked up.“So we made the tape and I sent it to Shana, figuring she’d know what to do with it. She’s got all these contacts, so… And she did show it around. To her sisters and all of their friends. To make fun of me. And to give me points for technique. Apparently I was so bad I was funny.”

There was a note of bitterness in her voice, and Odelia didn’t blame her. If something like this happened to her she’d probably die of mortification.

“Did they spread the tape beyond their circle?” Chase asked.

“No, thank God they didn’t. Shana said the best thing would be to destroy the tape, as it could only ruin my reputation. So I did.”

“Why didn’t you quit your job?” Odelia asked. “After what Shana did to you it must have been hard to keep working for the Kenspeckles.”

“It was at first, but this is basically my dream job. A lot of stylists would kill for this job. So I decided to suck it up.” She produced a feeble smile. “It wasn’t so bad. Shana apologized. Said she was totally out of line.”

Chase asked some more questions, and so did Odelia, but it was pretty clear that this was not their killer, nor could she shed any light on the murder.

“All right, Miss Merritt,” said Chase. “Thank you for your time. If there’s anything else you can think of, give me a call.” He handed her his card.

They left the room and walked back to the main house.

“We’re nowhere,” Chase said. “Absolutely nowhere.”

“Did you check Shana’s ex-boyfriend? Robin Masters?”

“Yeah, he’s got an alibi. He’s in Alaska. Writing his autobiography.”

“Isn’t he a little young to write his autobiography?”

But Chase didn’t respond. Boa had joined them. He jerked his thumb in the direction of a woman in a fur coat who stood with her back to them.

“Lady wants a word with you, Detectives,” Boa grunted.

“I think our luck just ran out, Poole,” Chase said.

The woman turned, and Odelia recognized her. Camille Kenspeckle, the matriarch of the Kenspeckle clan. The woman she’d seen so many times on TV and the cover of countless magazines. And she did not look happy.

The moment Camille caught sight of them, she took off her sunglasses. There was a glint of steel in those eyes.“Detective Kingsley, I presume?”

“You presume right, Mrs. Kenspeckle.”

“I’m calling off your investigation, Detective.”

“You can’t call off a police investigation, ma’am. It’s not a photo shoot.”

“I’m bringing in the FBI. This should have been treated as a terrorist attack from the beginning. You failed my little girl, Detective. You failed my family. But no more. I’m taking over, as I should have done from day one.”

“This was not a terrorist attack,” Chase insisted. “This was a homicide, and if you pull us off the investigation now we may never find the one responsible.”

“You’re through, Detective, and so are you, whoever you are,” she said as she gave Odelia a supercilious glance. “This investigation is terminated.”

Camille had a lot more things to say, and so did Chase, but Odelia decided she’d heard enough. It was clear they’d overstayed their welcome. While Chase argued with Camille, she went in search of her cats. She found them on top of the leather couch in the living room, chatting and chillaxing.

“What’s going on?” Max asked.

“They’re kicking us out,” she said.

“See? I told you,” said Max. “I told you this was the end.”

“But they can’t do that,” Dooley said. “We’re the cops.”

“Camille has her own ideas about her daughter’s murder,” Odelia said. She picked up both cats and carried them off. “She’s convinced it was a terrorist attack and that the FBI should take over.”

“She’s calling in the FBI?” Max asked.

“Yep. She said we’ve wasted enough time. She’s taking her family back to LA, where she can protect them from the terrorists. She’s going to trust the FBI to handle the investigation from now on and not us local yokels.”

Max and Dooley followed her to the pickup. Five minutes later, Chase came walking up, his face a thundercloud. They all got into the car, and as they were pulling away from the house, down the long drive and out of the gate, a fleet of black Escalades came roaring up the drive and passed them.

“The Feds,” Chase said. “Camille doesn’t waste any time.”

“So we’re officially through?”

“Yes, we are,” Chase said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

“Can they do that? Just… swoop in and take over?”

“Afraid so.” He glanced over. “It’s out of our hands now, Poole.”

“Pity we didn’t catch the killer,” Dooley said.

“Pity indeed.”

“What’s that?” Chase asked.

“Pity we didn’t catch the killer.”

“Yeah, damn shame.”

“Uncle Alec won’t like this.”

“He doesn’t have to like it. This time tomorrow the Kenspeckles will be gone, I’m pretty sure never to return. So it’s none of our business anymore.”

She settled back in her seat. Yep. This was the end, all right. The. End.

Chapter 22

“This is a nightmare,” said Uncle Alec, worrying the few remaining strands of wispy gray hair on his head until they stood on end.

Odelia and Chase were ensconced in the Chief’s office, discussing the unexpected turn their investigation had taken. A turn down the tubes.

“I talked to the FBI agent in charge. He told me to hand over any evidence we’ve managed to collect and they’ll take it from here.”

“Is he going to allow the Kenspeckles to fly out of here?” asked Odelia.

“Looks like. Camille wants her family safe and sound in that gated community where they all live. She’s hired the best muscle in LA to protect them from the terrorists she thinks are gunning for them. Ex-special forces.”

“I tried to explain we’re not dealing with terrorists here,” Chase said. “But Camille shot me down. She’s convinced her family is under attack.”

“I don’t understand,” Odelia said. “Why isn’t the FBI on the same page? They can’t possibly believe this was the work of some terrorist cell?”

“They’re convinced the killer somehow managed to outsmart Boa’s security team, and snuck in and killed Shana. It doesn’t help that I can’t offer them a suspect at this point. And arresting and being forced to release Dion Dread didn’t exactly boost my credibility. Plus it infuriated thefamily.”

“So what about the chloroform?” asked Odelia.

“What about it?”

“Don’t terrorists usually plant a big bomb and blow up the whole place? Why sneak in, drug the entire household and target only one person? That doesn’t sound like the work of a terrorist.”

“Try telling them that. I’m done explaining to the Feds how to do their job.”

“Did you tell them the note was an obvious fake?” asked Chase.

The Chief raised his hands and dropped them on the desk.“I’m the local moron here, guys. I’m a joke to these people. They don’t listen to me.”

“With the Kenspeckles gone so is our chance of finding the killer,” Odelia said. Uncle Alec was right. This was a nightmare scenario, and the worst part was that they were exactly nowhere in their investigation. They’d talked to all the principals and so far she didn’t have a single clue tothe killer’s identity.

“I don’t know,” said Chase. “You’d almost think Camille doesn’t want her daughter’s killer found.”

“I’m sure she does,” said the Chief, “but she doesn’t trust you or me.”

“When are they leaving?” Odelia asked.

“As soon as they’re ready. They’re packing up as we speak. The Feds will move them out in a motorcade, put them on a private jet and ship them off.”

“I wonder if they’re going to film this whole charade,” said Odelia.

“Of course they will,” said Chase. “This is all going to be on the show.”

“Yeah, this will probably be the number one show of the season.”

Odelia wondered why Max and Dooley hadn’t discovered anything. Usually they were great at ferreting out those small details no one else was capable of discovering. Trivial things that could lead to a break in the case.

Her phone buzzed and she excused herself, stepping into the corridor. It was her mother.“Hey, Mom. Everything all right?”

“Did you know that you and Chase were on TV just now?”

“We were?”

“There’s an item on the Kenspeckles, and they showed you and Chase leaving the house where they’re staying. You were waving at the camera.”

She remembered passing the camera crews camping out at the gate.“Yay. I’m famous.”

“Yay.”

“So what did they say?”

“Oh, nothing special. There was a lot of speculation about those black cars. They think it’s either the Men in Black arriving or the FBI. Your grandmother thinks it’s the Men in Black. I’m going with the FBI.”

“What would the Men in Black want with the Kenspeckles?”

“Well, the newscaster is convinced the Kenspeckles are aliens, colluding with other aliens on their mother ship to colonize the planet. The other theory is that it’s the FBI, and the local police are being sidelined. So what is it?”

“It’s the FBI,” she confirmed. “We’re out. They’re in.”

“They’re all aliens!” suddenly Gran’s voice sounded over the phone. “One look at Camille is enough to know she’s preparing an alien invasion. It’s in the eyes, honey. No amount of plastic surgery can hide those alien eyes.”

“The Kenspeckles are no aliens, Gran.”

“Rubbish. The alien wears Prada. Don’t be fooled by the fancy clothes.”

“Will you give me back that phone?” Mom said. “What did you say?”

“The FBI has taken over, Mom. Our investigation is officially a bust.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Can you invite your uncle and Chase over for dinner? We have barbecue. Does Chase like his mashed potatoes with garlic?”

She did a mental head thunk. Was this a time to think about barbecue?“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know how Chase likes his mashed potatoes.”

“Well, ask him, will you? This is important.”

Of course it was.“I’ll ask him.”

“Oh, and I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“A dog? Why a dog? Don’t we have enough cats?”

“Yeah, but dogs are affectionate. I hardly ever see Dooley or Harriet. They’re either over at your place or out and about. Dogs stick to you like glue. I was thinking of getting myself a French Bulldog, like the one Shana Kenspeckle had? I saw him on TV—they did a rerun of some older episodesof the Kenspeckles—and he looks so cute!”

“Yeah, dogs love their owners,” Odelia admitted. “Though Kane isn’t as cute in real life as he is on TV, Mom. He’s an annoying little yapper.”

“Kane? Who’s Kane?”

“Shana Kenspeckle’s dog? The dog that’s on the show?”

“Oh, but that’s not Shana’s dog, honey. Shana’s dog was called Lil’ Pim. He died last year, remember? Been with her since she was a kid. Kane used to belong to someone in Shana’s entourage. They gifted Kane to Shana as a present when Lil’ Pim died. To soften the blow.”

Something went clickety click inside Odelia’s head, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. A sudden surge of excitement shot through her. “Do you remember who that dog belonged to, Mom?”

“Sure, um…” Her mother’s voice trailed off. “Lemme think for a second. It’ll come to me.” There was some shuffling, then her mother’s voice called out, “Mom! Who gave Shana Kenspeckle her new dog? I’m asking your grandmother, honey,” she added, as if that wasn’t obvious already.

“Damien LeWood!” Gran yelled back.

“Not her husband, her dog! Who gave her the dog?!”

There was some muffled discussion on the other end, and then Gran took over the phone again.“Is Chase coming over for dinner, honey? We’re having barbecue.”

She gritted her teeth.“Gran, who gave Shana her new dog?”

“Ask him if he likes his mashed potatoes with garlic. I think he does, but your mother has gotten it into her head he doesn’t. Can you settle the argument? I’m right, aren’t I? I’m always right. I’ve got a mind like a steel trap.”

She heaved a deep sigh.“I’m sure Chase likes garlic.”

“See! I told you so! He looks like a garlic-loving guy to me.”

She tried to resist the urge to drag her grandmother through the phone.“Gran? The name?”

“Um… Lemme think for a minute. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

Finally, her mother came on the line.“I just remembered, honey.”

When her mother gave her the name, Odelia’s jaw went slack.

It was the very last person she would have suspected.

Chapter 23

While Odelia and Chase were meeting with Chief Alec, Dooley and I went in search of Brutus and Harriet. It was time for an emergency meeting. I had once sworn a sacred oath that I would stand by my human, and I wasn’t going to forsake her now. It was obvious this murder investigation meant a lot to Odelia, and so far we’d let her down.

“Do you really want to interrupt them on their hot date?” Dooley asked.

“Yes, I do. Catching the Kenspeckle killer is more important than a date.”

“Not to Harriet and Brutus. They love dating. Dating is all they do.”

“I don’t care. We need to catch that killer. Dating can wait.”

“Oh, fine,” he said, though he didn’t look happy. The prospect of catching Harriet and Brutus in the act under a park bench didn’t appeal to him.

We trotted over to the park where only that morning I’d been stuck in a tree. It looked completely different during the day. Mothers were pushing baby strollers, tourists were licking ice creams, kids were kicking cans, teenagers were canoodling and senior citizens were reading the newspaper.

Most tourists were at the beach right now, soaking up the rays, but not all. Some enjoyed the peace and quiet of the park. And the shade. The north side of the park sloped down, and morphed into a stretch of sandy dunes, leading straight down to the beach. The park provided a welcome counterpoint of coolness. We passed the playground, with several toddlers playing in the sandbox, parents seated to the side to keep an eye on them.

“They could be anywhere,” Dooley said. “This place is huge.”

“Not that huge. And I’ll bet they’ve chosen a quiet spot for their date.”

“So they can have some privacy. Which we should probably give them.”

“Do you or don’t you want to find the killer?”

“Of course I want to find the killer. But I don’t see how Brutus or Harriet are going to help us find him. If we can’t solve this case, and Odelia and Chase and Uncle Alec can’t solve this case, what makes you think they can?”

“It’s the combined intelligence of the four of us that does the trick,” I told him. “It’s the power of the mastermind, Dooley. Four great minds provide a wisdom that is greater than its collective parts.”

He stared at me dumbly, and I was starting to have second thoughts about this mastermind thing. I’d seen it on the History Channel once. How big tycoons rely on the convergence of great minds to come up with great ideas. I wondered if it also worked if some of those minds weren’t as bright as others.

We headed to a denser part of the park, where Brutus and I had climbed that tree that morning. When I spotted a black tabby and a white Persian getting cozy under a bench, I knew we’d found them. “There they are.”

“You talk to them,” Dooley said, shaking his head. “I’m not doing this.”

“Hey, guys,” I said as I walked up to them, Dooley dragging his paws.

Brutus gave me his best glare.“What are you doing here?”

I told him in a few quick words what had transpired at the Kenspeckle place. It didn’t help. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“Don’t you see?” Harriet said. “Max wants our help to solve the case.”

“You want my help?” asked Brutus, and he seemed genuinely surprised. “I thought you didn’t need my help. Not after what happened yesterday.”

“Well, it turns out I do need your help, Brutus,” I said reluctantly.

A grin spread across his features.“You’re admitting you can’t do this without me?”

“That’s… pretty much what I just said, yes.”

The grin spread.“Just humor me, Max, and repeat that, will you?”

I rolled my eyes. Oh, God. He was back to his old obnoxious self. “Brutus, I need your help solving this case. I can’t seem to do it without you.”

“Like music to my ears. Tell me again, only this time act like you mean it.”

Now it was my turn to glare at him.“Are you going to help or not?”

“You know what? I’ll think about it. Let me get back to you.”

“Oh, sugar plum. Don’t be mean to Maxie. He’s your friend now.”

Brutus gave me a slap on the back.“Just messing with you, Maxie, baby. We’re tree top buddies. We climbed a tree and survived. We’re buds now!”

“Oh, you guys,” said Harriet excitedly. “We’re a team! It’s what I’ve always wanted! We’re best friends! The fearless foursome to the rescue!”

“Whoopee,” Dooley muttered.

I didn’t know what was worse: being Brutus’s enemy or his buddy. We might have bonded to a certain extent up there in that tree, but that didn’t mean we were bosom buddies now. Spend some time staring death in the face with another cat, and you’ll start to feel a strange connection. It’s not friendship, exactly. It’s… complicated. Probably something only a shrink would understand. Still, I needed his help. We needed to figure this out.

“All right,” I admitted. “We’re all friends now. Happy?”

Harriet made funny little sounds, and she looked so excited she was about to spontaneously self-combust. She pressed her paws together.“Very happy.”

“So what do you want us to do?” asked Brutus. “And make it snappy, cause Harriet and I have those dinner reservations at The Hungry Pipe.”

“Dinner is hours away,” said Dooley. “And it’s not a reservation if you’re going to eat leftovers on the roof of some dumb old restaurant.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know The Hungry Pipe is the place to be right now. And it is a reservation if your buddy can get you the best veal in town.”

“All right, all right,” I said, holding up my paws. “Let’s not get into all that. We have a murder to solve, you guys, so we better get cracking.”

“I think the dog did it,” Harriet said decidedly.

“Kane? How do you figure that? Dogs don’t swing meat cleavers with deadly force, or take out people with chloroform.”

“No, but that dog was awfully quiet when the killer was doing his business. So the way I see it is that at the very least he’s an accomplice.”

“She’s right,” said Brutus. “That dog knows something. I mean, he’s been barking up a storm, snapping at the heels of anyone in sight. So why wasn’t he barking when someone killed his human? That doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right,” I said, and suddenly that little tidbit of information dropped down from my memory banks and into the right slot. My face lit up with the light of intelligence, or at least I think it did. “Brutus! Harriet! You’re brilliant! You just solved this case!”

“Huh?” asked Brutus.

“What?” asked Harriet.

“What are you talking about, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I know who did it! Kane told us!”

“He did? I don’t remember,” said Dooley.

“Neither did I. It was just one of those offhand comments. I didn’t even pay attention to it at the time. But now I see he gave us the killer.” I slapped Brutus and Harriet on the backs. “You solved the murder, you guys!”

Brutus puffed up his chest.“Of course I did.” He paused. “So who is it?”

Chapter 24

Odelia and Chase stood outside the police station, watching as the motorcade slowly passed along Main Street. It stopped in the middle of the street. After a moment’s delay, five Escalades parked on the side of the road.

“I wonder what’s going on,” said Odelia.

“Looks like they’ve decided to put in a little shopping,” said Chase.

Odelia looked back when her uncle came out of the station.

“And? Any luck?” she asked.

“Nope. I talked to the guy in charge. I told him everything you told me, but he insists it’s all circumstantial evidence. It didn’t change his mind.”

“Too bad we didn’t know sooner,” said Chase. “Where did this sudden brainwave of yours come from, anyway, Poole?”

She shrugged.“Just a hunch.”

He eyed her curiously.“You’ve got some great hunches, Poole.”

“That’s Odelia for you,” said the Chief. “She’s always had an uncanny intuition when it comes to crime solving. Remember that time you figured out where Sonny Start had buried the body of his neighbor’s Rottweiler? Everybody said the dog had run off, but you knew Sonny had poisoned him.”

She shared a look of understanding with her uncle. He knew her cats had found the Rottweiler, not her. She watched now as Max and Dooley came trotting up. They looked excited.“We know who the killer is!” Max cried.

She crouched down.“So? Who is it? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Kane told us that first day. Only I completely forgot.”

“Well, I think I know who the killer is, too. So let’s hear it.” When he gave her the name, she nodded. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

He looked surprised.“How did you find out?”

“Thanks to you guys. You told me Kane didn’t bark when the killer struck. And then my mother told me who gave Kane to Shana.”

She rose, and saw that Chase was eyeing her wearily.“Talking to your cats again, Poole?”

“They like it when I talk cat.”

“You sound so funny when you do that. You make these little cat sounds. Makes you sound almost like a real cat. It’s the damnedest thing.”

“Yeah, the damnedest thing,” her uncle said, giving her a warning look.

Across the street, three burly FBI agents had stepped out of the first car, and checked around for a moment, probably looking for snipers targeting the Kenspeckles. Her mother was right. They really did look like the Men in Black. After a moment, they sounded the all-clear, and Camille Kenspeckle emerged from the vehicle. She was still dressed in her fur coat, C?line sunglasses on her nose, strappy black heels on her feet. She looked like a hundred thousand bucks, which was probably what she’d spent on her outfit.

Odelia watched as two FBI agents walked up to Darling’s Dress Code, one of the more popular high-end clothing boutiques in town. The agents held the door for Camille, who strutted past them and disappeared inside.

“See? I told you they were putting in a little shopping,” said Chase.

A surge of excitement raced through her.“This is our window. We have to confront her now, before it’s too late.” And before she could change her mind, she was already darting across the street in the direction of the store.

“Wait a minute!” Chase hollered, but she wasn’t going to wait until the Kenspeckles boarded their private plane and got away. The FBI was right. They had nothing but circumstantial evidence. They needed a confession.

She walked up to the store and was about to go in when the two agents stopped her.“Sorry, ma’am. Store is closed. Private client tour in progress.”

Of course. Camille wanted the store all to herself. She glanced in through the window, and saw that the Kenspeckle matriarch was browsing, a salesgirl in her wake. One more FBI agent had gone in, babysitting the reality star. She watched as Burr Newberry took a shot of the exterior of the shop and the FBI agents, who stood shaking their heads, and then also headed inside.

When this show aired, all of Hollywood would want a couple of Feds to go shopping with them. It would be the next big thing, up there with the dab.

She decided that the only way to confront Camille was to catch her off guard. She slipped into the alley two stores over, and made her way along the narrow street. Darling’s had a back entrance, from the days it was still a liquor store. Locals boozers used to hang out back there, waiting for Kinnard Daym, who ran the store back in the day, to supply them with their favorite hard liquor in brown paper bags, blithely ignoring their wives’ vetoes.

She tried the metal door, and found it neither guarded by Feds nor locked. She entered the store, and saw she was in a small storeroom. This was where Marina, Darling’s Dress Code’s current owner, kept her stock.

She opened the door connecting to the store, passed through a corridor which held the staff lavatory, and reached a painted chipboard door. She heard voices. One of them was Camille’s. She pushed the door open and peeked in. No FBI and no bodyguards. Great. She stepped inside.

Marina was the first one to react. She was a stern-faced middle-aged woman with platinum hair and an unnaturally smooth brow. She’d actually gone to school with Odelia’s mother, though Marina looked a decade younger. Her blue eyes cut to Odelia. “I’m sorry, honey. We’re closed for business right now.” She gestured to Camille, who stood holding a backless black gown in front of a full-length mirror, and whispered,“Private client viewing.”

“Actually it’s your client I’d like a word with.”

Camille spotted her. Her face clouded.“You again. What do you want?”

“I need a word in private, Camille. It’s about your daughter’s murder.”

Camille rolled her eyes. “Not again with the baseless accusations. I told you already. My family is the target of a terrorist plot. The FBI is handling things.” She pointed an accusing finger at Odelia. “You tried to catch the killer and you failed. So you’re done, missy. You’re through.”

“Just give me five minutes, and I’ll tell you who killed Shana.”

Camille stared at her, debating whether to call in the troops, or to give Odelia her five minutes. In the end, she said,“Start talking. And you,” she added, pointing at Marina. “Get out. I’ll call you when I need you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kenspeckle,” Marina muttered, and hurried out.

“Shana wasn’t murdered by a terrorist,” Odelia said the moment they were alone. In a few words, she told Camille who the killer was, and why.

Camille looked at her thoughtfully.“And you know this how, exactly?”

“An anonymous witness came forward. She saw everything.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention this witness was in fact Clarice.

“You have a witness? Why didn’t you say so before? This changes everything.”

“The problem is that… the witness isn’t available to testify.”

She nodded.“A stalker, huh? Afraid to be prosecuted. Well, I’m certainly willing to make a deal. I won’t come after her if she’s willing to testify.”

“She’s not a stalker. She’s… let’s just say her testimony isn’t admissible.”

Camille threw up her hands.“So now what? We know who did it but we can’t prove it.”

“That’s where you come in. We need to force a confession.”

She explained her plan, hoping Camille would go along with it. To her surprise, the reality star didn’t hesitate one moment. She gave Odelia a hug. “You found my daughter’s killer, Miss Poole. How can I ever repay you?”

“Let’s first get that confession,” she said, awkwardly returning the hug. “And you don’t have to repay me. My reward is seeing justice done.”

Camille placed her phone to her ear, and made the call.

Laurelle walked in, looking anxious.“You wanted to see me, Camille?”

Camille gave her one of her rare smiles.“I wanted to talk to you alone, Laurelle. Away from the cameras and the police. Just the two of us. And this seemed like the only place I could do that. There’s been a break in the case.”

“A break? What do you mean?”

“I just got a call from one of the police officers working on the case. A witness has come forward, Laurelle. A witness who saw Shana’s murder.”

Laurelle’s already pale face became even paler. “A-a witness?”

“An eyewitness who… saw you in Shana’s room that night.”

The stylist’s eyes went wide. “But that’s impossible. I wasn’t anywhere near Shana’s room that night. I told the police already. I was in bed.”

“Someone was watching, Laurelle,” said Camille. “Someone was watching through the window. They saw you murder my daughter.”

“That’s just crazy! How can this witness have seen me? The killer wore a mask. Whoever this is, they’re lying, Camille. I would never kill Shana!”

“That’s what I first thought. The thing is, the dog didn’t bark, Laurelle.”

Laurelle looked at Camille as if she was crazy.“The dog didn’t bark?”

“That’s right. You know Kane. That stupid mutt barks at everything and everyone. But that night he didn’t bark when the killer attacked Shana.”

“So? That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves everything. You gave that dog to Shana. You’re the only one he never barks at, because you’re his owner and he knows that.”

“The killer could have drugged Kane, like he drugged everyone else.”

Camille shook her head decidedly.“I believe you killed Shana, Laurelle.”

“But, Camille—”

“The police also told me you used to work at your uncle’s butcher shop until you left your hometown to become a stylist in LA. They told me you were very handy with the meat cleaver. In fact your uncle told them you were an ace. That for a girl of your size and build you packed quite a punch.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. This is just… ridiculous.”

Camille fixed her with an implacable look.“Why did you do it? Was it because of that silly sex tape? Yes, Shana told me all about that. How that tape was your claim to fame. She even sent me a copy of the silly thing.”

Laurelle’s lips tightened and she went still. “You saw my tape?”

“Of course I saw your tape. Everybody did. We all had a good laugh. The thing was hilarious. Did you really think it would make you famous?”

“That tape wasn’t Shana’s to distribute. I gave it to her in confidence.”

“It’s a sex tape, Laurelle. If you didn’t want people to see it, why did you make it in the first place?”

Laurelle shook her head. She’d moved back, and twin dots of crimson had appeared on her cheeks. Out of nowhere, a knife suddenly manifested in her hand. “You’re just as bad as your asshole daughter, Camille. I should have taken care of you and your family a long time ago.”

Camille eyed the knife nervously.“What are you doing?”

Laurelle’s lips curled up into a cruel smile. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to put my carving skills to good use. This time without a witness.”

“You won’t get away with this. Everyone will know it was you.”

The stylist shrugged.“I’ll just cut myself. Tell the cops the terrorist struck again and I barely escaped with my life. I’ll even throw in a full description this time. Only for you, help will come too late, of course. You’ll be dead.”

“Why did you do it, Laurelle? Why did you kill my daughter?”

“For the same reason I’m going to kill you. Because you deserve it,” she spat. “You think you’re so high and mighty. Sitting on your throne of money and fame and power. You think you can mock and ridicule everyone else. Well, no more. I deserve a spot in the limelight, just like you, and I’m going to get it. That tape was supposed to put me out there, but your daughter sabotaged everything. She didn’t want the competition. She could have made me part of her inner circle but instead she chose to keep me down.”

“You’re crazy,” said Camille. “No silly sex tape could have made you famous. It would simply have made you the laughing stock of the world.”

Laurelle stuck out her chin.“You know it’s all about celebrity endorsement. If Shana had endorsed my tape, it would have put my name on the map.”

“You’re deluded, honey. It doesn’t work that way. Shana was famous not because of some elusive celebrity endorsement but because she had talent and worked her ass off to make it in this business. Success doesn’t fall from the sky. Shana had to work hard to make a success of herself, and she wasn’t going to hand it to you on a silver platter just because you felt entitled.”

“You’re so wrong. I’m not entitled. I’m talented. I just needed a break.”

“Drop that knife. It’s over. You killed Shana and you’re going to jail.”

“It isn’t over until I say it is. You and your family are going to suffer. I’m going to kill every last one of you. First I’ll carve you up like a brisket, and then I’m going to do the same to your rotten kids. I won’t rest until all the Kenspeckles are nothing but a bunch of cadavers rotting in the ground.”

“You’re insane,” said Camille, throwing up her hands. “Why didn’t I see this before? When this is over I’m going to have a word with your employment agency. This is just ridiculous.”

“One more thing before I slice you to ribbons,” said Laurelle. “Give me the name of the witness.”

“I told you, it was Kane,” said Camille.

“I should never have given my precious baby to Shana,” said Laurelle. “I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. I just felt sorry for her after Lil’ Pim died.”

“Well, Kane was the witness.”

“Quit messing around, Camille,” said Laurelle, gesturing with the knife. “Tell me the name of the witness.”

Odelia stepped from behind the curtain.“That would be me.”

Laurelle’s eyes widened in shock. “You! What are you doing here?!”

“Telling Camille what’s going on.”

“You saw me that night?”

“A family friend did.”

Laurelle took a step toward her.“Give me the name or I’ll gut you right now. One slice is all it takes to spread your guts all over the floor so you can watch yourself bleed to death.”

“Sounds like fun,” Odelia said. “But I think I’ll pass.” She shook her head. “And here I thought you were the victim. You sure fooled me.”

“I am the victim. I’m the victim of Kenspeckle greed.”

“You made that tape, didn’t you?” asked Odelia. “That was your idea.”

“Of course it was my idea. I devised the whole plan. You don’t think I escaped that shit town of Armada, Illinois just to spend my life slaving away for the Kenspeckles, do you? I came to LA to become rich and famous, only this asshole here doesn’t want to share. So now I’ll make her pay. And I’ll make you pay,” she said, making a slashing gesture in Odelia’s direction.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice sounded from the door. Chase had appeared, and he was accompanied by the FBI agent in charge.

Laurelle stared at them, completely taken aback.“I… the terrorist was here, and… he attacked me and…”

“I don’t think so, Laurelle,” said Burr as he stepped from behind the curtain. He had his camera mounted on his shoulder and pointed at Laurelle.

The knife dropped from her hand and fell to the floor.“You filmed me?”

“Yep. Got it all on tape.” He tapped his camera proudly. “A real doozy.”

It was over, and she knew it. Chase stepped forward, and outfitted the fallen stylist with a nice set of shiny new handcuffs. Laurelle looked at Odelia.“Who was the witness? Who saw me that night? I need to know.”

Odelia shrugged.“There was no witness. I just made that up.”

The girl’s face contorted into an expression of rage. “I hate you. I hate all of you! And I hate you most of all, Camille Kenspeckle! I’ll get you for this!”

“Join the line,” said Camille with a satisfied smile. “Oh, God,” she said as she turned to Odelia. “I can’t thank you enough, honey. If not for you I’m pretty sure that monster would have murdered my entire family.”

“That seems to have been her plan all along,” said Odelia. “Only she wanted to take her time. Kill you one at a time and make you suffer as long as possible.” She glanced at the camera, which was pretty much in her face now. “Um, could you stop filming now?”

Camille grinned.“Why? You’re going to be next season’s biggest star.”

Two cats came darting in, and she picked them both up.“These are my stars,” she said. “My biggest stars.”

Pity she couldn’t tell the world they were the ones who caught Laurelle. Then again, sometimes real heroes went uncelebrated.

“Mom,” said Shayonne as she came darting in. “Is it true Laurelle is the killer?”

“Yes, it’s true,” said Camille.

“No way!” Shalonda cried, close on her sister’s heel. “Did you get her confession on tape?”

“Yes, we did.”

The two sisters exchanged high fives.“Best. Show. Ever!”

Odelia shook her head and walked out. Keeping up with the Kenspeckles was a tough proposition, but at least she hadn’t sustained permanent damage.

Epilogue

Dusk was falling and Dooley and I were seated on the swing Doctor Tex had installed on the back porch. Gran was sitting next to us, patiently waiting for dinner to start. Tex was whipping beef ribs onto the barbecue, joining the burger patties and sausages already sizzling on the grill. Uncle Alec was helping him by swigging back a Corona and being generous with his advice.

My stomach grumbled as the delicious scent caressed my nostrils. We’d already been fed a few slivers of raw sausage, and now we were waiting for the barbecue feast to start, cooked up by the barbecue maestro himself.

Even though Tex warned against artery-clogging red meat on a daily basis to his patients, when he wasn’t on duty he liked to treat himself to some choice artery-clogging beef ribs himself. He argued that if God didn’t want us to have barbecue, he shouldn’t have made it taste and smell so darn good.

Chase and Odelia were seated at the white plastic table Marge had placed in the garden. They were deeply engrossed in conversation, probably clearing up the last few details about the murder case. Marge was busy in the kitchen, doing something with potato salad, and putting the finishing touches on the chocolate cake she was baking. Brutus and Harriet were snuggling at Odelia’s feet. They’d canceled their romantic evening for dinner with the fam.

Movement suddenly caught my eye, and when I glanced over I saw that Clarice was sneaking through Odelia’s garden. She disappeared into the house. Odelia had decided that in celebration of the fact that Clarice had provided the telling clue to catch the killer, she would adopt her. Only Clarice wasn’t in favor of being adopted. She preferred to roam wild and free. As a compromise, she had accepted that she could always get food and shelter at Odelia’s if she wanted to. She now even had a big bowl with her name on it—literally. That was actually my idea. I didn’t want Clarice stealing my food.

You might say us cats have a problem with sharing. You might be right.

I saw Clarice stalk out of the house again. Our eyes locked, and she gave me an almost imperceptible nod before skulking off, licking her whiskers.

I turned a lazy eye back to the garden, and I was struck by an outrageous sight. Chase was leaning into Odelia, and planting a kiss on her lips. And she wasn’t even fighting him! Of course, after being forced to watch Shalonda and Boa in the pool, no display of carnal love had the power to shock me anymore. Still, this wasn’t something I’d ever expected to see in my lifetime.

“Max?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Odelia and Chase are kissing.”

“I know, Dooley.”

“I mean, they’re actually kissing!”

“I know! I have eyes. I can see.”

“Um. And it looks like it’s a real kiss. Like, with tongue and all?”

“Yep, that’s a real kiss all right,” said Gran. She sighed wistfully. “Boy, that brings back a few memories.” She looked happy. “I knew this was gonna happen. I just knew it. And not a minute too soon either.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“If she’s going to provide me with a brace of great-grandchildren she needs to get a move on. I can’t wait around forever, you know.”

“What do you mean you won’t wait around forever?” asked Dooley.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not getting any younger, boys, and neither are you. If we want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet, it’s now or never.”

Dooley and I stared at each other, aghast. Pitter patter of little feet?“You mean… babies?” Dooley cried, his voice rising an octave in sheer horror.

“What do you think I mean? The pitter patter of mice? Of course babies.”

“But, but, but… I don’t want babies!” Dooley squeaked.

“Yeah, if Odelia has babies, what’s gonna happen to us?” I asked, a sense of panic settling in my stomach and even driving away my nice pre-barbecue buzz. I knew what happened when babies were born: it was in with the new, and out with the old. In this case, Dooley and Harriet and me.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Gran said with a chuckle. “As long as you promise to take good care of the young ‘uns, you’ll be just fine.”

“This is it,” Dooley said miserably. “This is the end.”

“Yeah,” I echoed. “We’re doomed.”

“No, you’re not,” said Gran. “You’ll always be our babies. And if you keep catching killers like you do, you’ll probably even get a medal or something.”

“I don’t want a medal,” I said. “I just want to be Odelia’s baby.”

“Relax, boys. Nobody’s going to replace you. On the contrary, babies are fun, and they smell great. And what’s more, if Odelia and Chase get hitched, your little buddy is going to move in with you. Won’t that be a barrel of fun?”

Dooley and I stared at Brutus, who gave us a pinkie wave, then at each other, and we burst into tears. Our lives had officially gone down the toilet.

Content

Ник Сайнт Purrfect Murder. Purrfectly Deadly. Purrfect Revenge