“He did. That’s what I loved about him. And now he’s de-ea-ea-ea-ead!”

  “She seems really sad, Max,” said Dooley as Todd took out more paper tissues and handed them to the crying teenager.

  “Yeah, she does,” I said.

  “So at least she didn’t kill him.”

  “No, at least there’s that,” I said, as this case was starting to look a little opaque in my opinion.

  “You do think he was murdered, don’t you, Max?”

  “I don’t know, Dooley. So far it looks like an accident, but then you never know.”

  “If it was an accident, it’s a very big coincidence that the stepdaughter of the man who was out in those woods was dating the dead man,” said Dooley, causing me to regard him with mounting admiration.

  “Exactly what I was thinking, Dooley.”

  “It’s all very confusing,” my friend said.

  “Of course it could all be unconnected. The dead man in the woods, and the dead DJ.”

  Dooley cut me a knowing look. “Max, how long have we been helping Odelia solve these mysteries?”

  “Um, a long time?” I ventured.

  “And how many times has something like this turned out to be a simple coincidence?”

  “Um, never?”

  “So I think we both know this won’t be a coincidence either.”

  He was right, of course. But then how did it all fit together? That was what I’d like to know.

  22

  And since we couldn’t exactly make heads or tails of the whole thing, and when Odelia finally emerged from her meeting with Chase and told us she was going into the office to work on some of her articles and we were free to do as we pleased, we decided to head on home. Sometimes the best thing you can do to solve a mystery is to do exactly nothing. No, that’s not entirely true: the best thing is to take a step back, and let things stew for a while.

  Something was definitely stewing when we arrived home, for a large container stood parked in front of Marge and Tex’s place, and workers were walking in and out pushing wheelbarrows loaded up with what looked like debris and dumping them into the container.

  “Are Marge and Tex redecorating, Max?” asked Dooley as we sat taking in the scene for a few moments before venturing inside.

  “I don’t know, Dooley, but it certainly looks that way.”

  But since the front of the house looked a little dangerous for two small cats such as ourselves to pass through those front lines, we decided to circle around and attack the thing from the rear, always a good strategy in times of war—or house renovations.

  But the back of the house was even worse, and the kitchen was unrecognizable: workers were pounding with very big pneumatic hammers at the wall that divides the kitchen from the living room, and already large holes had been created. So either this was a rave, judging from the sound those jackhammers made, or something even worse!

  “They’re destroying the whole house, Max!” said Dooley.

  “Looks that way,” I agreed, equally annoyed that nobody had bothered to send us the memo that our home was going to be a construction site for the foreseeable future.

  And then we saw Gran, who stood at the heart of all the hubbub, a yellow hard hat placed on her head, and a dust mask in front of her face. She was discussing something with a very large and burly man, who also had a hard hat on his head, and was dressed in blue coveralls. From time to time he yelled something to the other people destroying Marge and Tex’s nice house, and then he resumed his conference with Gran.

  “Gran!” yelled Dooley. “What is happening!”

  But of course she didn’t hear us. And then when a large piece of ceiling dropped down on the kitchen floor, it looked like things were turning ugly, and we beat a strategic retreat.

  We regrouped in Odelia’s house, which, much to our delight, wasn’t the scene of men with hard hats using power tools to tear down the walls. Things there were exactly as they’d always been, and we discovered that our food bowls were still there, and filled to the brim, too, and so where our litter boxes—though luckily not filled to the brim.

  “What’s going on?” asked Dooley. His question was addressed to Harriet and Brutus who sat on the couch, looking particularly glum.

  “Gran has started her kitchen remodel,” said Harriet, “only she forgot to tell Marge.”

  “She’ll blow a fuse when she gets home and discovers what Gran has done,” said Brutus.

  “That’s not a kitchen remodel,” I said. “They’re tearing down walls!”

  “Gran mentioned something about wanting to open the place up,” said Harriet. “She wants to turn the entire downstairs into one big space, and get rid of the sitting room out in front. She said she discussed it with Marge and she agreed—though I doubt it.”

  “Is this Fred Kramer’s crew?” I asked.

  “No, it’s some contractor Gran found somewhere. I think they’re Polish. First they’ll create some more space downstairs and then when that’s finished Fred Kramer will come in and install the new kitchen they ordered.”

  “Gran wants more light,” said Brutus. “She complained the old house was too dark.”

  “Well, she is right about that,” I agreed. “The living room was pretty dark.”

  “I think when it’s all over, it’s going to look great,” said Harriet. “Airy and bright.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Brutus.

  “So what have you been doing?” asked Harriet, addressing her question to me.

  “Oh, just this and that,” I said.

  “Odelia and Chase interviewed the ex-girlfriend of the man who fell down the shaft,” said Dooley, “and also his best friend. And they seem to think Karl Bunyon had something to do with the whole thing, because the dead man dated Karl’s stepdaughter. Oh, and also they were both out in the woods on the same night at the same time.”

  “Yeah, Chase is going to arrest Karl Bunyon and search his house,” I said, repeating what Odelia had told us before she’d dismissed us and told us to go and play.

  “So Shaft Man and John Doe were both killed by the catnapper?” asked Harriet.

  “It’s a possibility,” I said with a shrug.

  “But you don’t think he did it, do you, Max?” said Brutus, eyeing me closely.

  “I don’t know, Brutus. Right now I don’t have enough information at my disposal to decide what happened, and as long as that’s the case, I prefer to defer judgment.”

  He grinned. “Prefer to defer judgment. Nice one. You’re starting to sound like Perry Mason, Max. Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out sooner or later, buddy. You always do.”

  It was nice to get this vote of confidence from one who was notoriously critical of my efforts as a cat sleuth, but frankly they weren’t exactly justified, as I hadn’t lied: I had absolutely no clue what was going on. What I did know was that if Gran was going to turn Marge and Tex’s house into a construction site, things were about to get a little heated around here. And before long this proved to be the case, when Odelia suddenly came storming into the house, and burst out, “Have you guys seen Gran?”

  “Last time I saw her she was next door,” I told my human, “supervising the reconstruction efforts.”

  “Well, she’s not there, and the house is a complete mess. What is she up to, do you know?”

  “I think she wants to put in a new kitchen,” said Dooley.

  “That’s not a kitchen remodel!” said Odelia, getting a little too loud if I’m honest.

  The four of us decided to take a nap—even though the sound of those jackhammers was very annoying I must confess. Still, we took a valiant stab at a nice little nap on the couch. Unfortunately, our nap was to be cut short, for a mere five minutes later Marge came storming in. “Where is my mother!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “She’s out there somewhere,” said Harriet wearily, then yawned, hoping to convey the message that we wanted less talk and more peace and quiet.

  “She’s destroying my house! There’s people drilling holes in my walls!”

  “Yeah, I saw that,” I said.

  “When all is said and done,” said Harriet, “It’s going to look fabulous.”

  “Airy and bright,” Brutus added.

  “Airy and bright my ass!” Marge screamed, and stormed out again.

  Tex was next, stomping in through the sliding glass door and looking around like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, ready to start kicking ass and taking names. He had that wild look in his eyes that foretold of a massacre in the making, and it wasn’t hard to guess who his intended victim was. “Where’s Vesta!” he roared. “I’m going to wring her neck!”

  “She’s out there supervising the reconstruction,” said Harriet.

  But of course Tex couldn’t understand what Harriet said, which he proved by repeating, “I’m going to wring that damn woman’s neck if it’s the last thing I do!”

  And then he stomped out again. And I think at that point we got about an hour’s worth of good solid sleep. Which was very nice indeed.

  23

  Odelia stood overseeing the carnage, along with her mother. The inner wall was gone, and so was the second inner wall, and all in all there wasn’t much left of what had once been a cozy little home.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Ma!” Marge demanded.

  “I think it looks pretty great,” said Gran admiringly. She was still wearing her hard hat and looked like an elderly construction worker. “Look, if you wanna make an omelet you gotta break some eggs. That’s just the way it is. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can relax.”

  “You should have asked me before you hired these… these… this wrecking crew!”

  “They’re not a wrecking crew. They’re builders. And they’re very good builders. The contractor is Scarlett’s cousin’s neighbor’s mother-in-law’s brother’s best friend, and he comes highly recommended. He’s also dirt cheap. Besides, we talked about this, remember? And you said it was fine.”

  “I didn’t say it was fine! I said I was going to discuss it with Tex!”

  Dad stood eyeing the destruction with a dazed look on his face. “Where is my television?” he asked in a strangled voice. “What did they do to my television?”

  “Is that all you have to say!” Mom demanded.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing,” said Gran. “All of our stuff is safely stored.”

  “Where? Where is it stored?” Mom demanded.

  “I’m not sure, but Piotr assured me it’s all stored away safe and sound. And cheap.”

  “Piotr? Is that the name of the contractor?” asked Odelia.

  “Yeah, Piotr Krakowska.”

  “Oh, dear God,” said Mom, looking as if she was either on the verge of crying or about to strangle Gran. Dad was apoplectic, which showed in a general sense of dazedness.

  “How long is this going to take?” asked Odelia.

  “Well, that depends,” said Gran.

  “Depends!” Mom cried.

  “Yeah, best-case scenario? Three weeks. Worst-case scenario, three months.”

  “But where are we going to live!”

  They all turned to look at Odelia.

  “Oh, no,” said Odelia. “I don’t have space for three extra people.”

  “Well, your grandmother can sleep on the couch,” said Mom savagely.

  “We don’t have to sleep on any couches,” said Gran. “Our bedrooms are perfectly fine to sleep in. This is a kitchen remodel, people, not a home renovation!”

  Just then, there was a loud creaking sound, and suddenly before their very eyes the entire upper floor suddenly crashed down on the lower floor in a cloud of dust!

  “Oh, my God!” Mom cried.

  “Now how did that happen?” asked Gran curiously.

  Just then, Odelia’s phone chimed, and automatically she picked it out of her jeans back pocket. “Yeah?” she said without looking to see who it was.

  “Babe? We got him!”

  “Who got what?”

  “The killer! We went through Karl Bunyon’s house with a fine-tooth comb and we found the gun!”

  “Gun?”

  “Babe, are you all right? You sound a little… off.”

  “Mom and Dad’s house just died, Chase,” she intoned. “It’s dead now.”

  There was a pause, then Chase said, “I’m coming.”

  And he did. Five minutes later he was standing right next to them as they all stared at what was left of the house, which wasn’t a lot.

  “What happened?” asked Chase.

  “I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “One minute the house was fine, the next it was gone.”

  “This is just a minor setback,” said Gran. “I’ll call Piotr and tell him to fix things.”

  “Fix things!” Dad suddenly screamed. “Vesta, the whole house is gone!”

  “No need to shout, Tex,” said Gran, rubbing her ear. “I’m sure it’s an easy fix.”

  It rarely happens that you’re treated to the sight of two grown-ups crying, but that’s what happened just then: both Odelia’s parents suddenly burst into tears.

  “Well,” said Chase. “I guess I better start getting that guest room ready, huh?”

  And as Odelia and Chase removed themselves from the scene, leaving Gran to call her contractor, and Mom and Dad to gently weep, Odelia said, “What was that you said about a gun?”

  “Oh, right. Guess what? We found a gun safe in Karl Bunyon’s office. And inside we found… the murder weapon!”

  “The gun that killed our John Doe?”

  “Exactly! So it’s case closed. Karl Bunyon killed John Doe, and buried him in the woods.”

  “But why? And who is John Doe?”

  “No idea,” said Chase, as he started moving his workout equipment to a corner of the guest bedroom. “He’s not talking. I placed him under arrest, advised him of his rights, and he’s taking the right to remain silent pretty seriously. All he wanted to impress upon me is that he’s innocent, and that there must be some kind of terrible mistake.”

  “What mistake?”

  Chase shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “You’re sure this is the same weapon?”

  “One hundred percent. The bullet that killed John Doe was fired from Karl Bunyon’s gun. No doubt about it.”

  “And the gun was in his gun safe.”

  “Karl’s fingerprints are on the gun, the gun was in his gun safe, and the gun safe was locked with a combination lock.”

  “What’s the combination?”

  “The guy’s birthday.”

  “Anyone else have access to the safe? The wife… or the daughter?”

  “I suppose. Now where am I going to put this thing?”

  He was referring to the weightlifting machine he used to train his chest and back muscles. It weighed a ton, and even though it was placed in a corner of the room, and rarely used these days since Chase preferred to do his workouts at the gym, it took up a lot of space.

  “You know what? When those builders come in tomorrow, I’ll ask them to take this thing out.” He gave his wife a cheerful grin. “For some reason I have a feeling we’re going to need this room to double as a guest bedroom a lot more than as a home gym.”

  24

  The next morning we were all lounging lazily in Odelia’s office. At home things were a little hectic, with Gran and Marge and Tex suddenly moving in, and the house next door having been reduced to rubble, and so the only little bit of peace and quiet we could find was in our human’s office.

  The contractor, when he finally turned up early that morning, had uttered the key word to explain why the house had suddenly decided to collapse. This word was ‘load-bearing wall.’ Okay, so that’s three words, but bear with me. He also uttered a second key word and this was ‘support beam.’ Okay, fine, that’s two words. “Darn it,” the man had said in a strong Polish accent, or at least I assumed it was Polish, “I knew I should have put in those support beams before I took out those two load-bearing walls.”

  And that’s how you learn new words from time to time. Pity it was at the expense of Marge and Tex’s nice house, and incidentally Dooley’s, and also Brutus’s and Harriet’s.

  Well, at least there was still Odelia’s home, and since Odelia had already ruled out any kitchen remodels taking place in her home, I think for now we were safe.

  Suddenly a woman walked into Odelia’s office. I recognized her as Kathleen Bunyon, and I had a feeling I knew just what she was going to say even before she said it.

  “Miss Poole!” she said, sounding a little breathless as she took a seat. “My husband has been arrested by your husband!”

  It’s one of those things you don’t hear very often, just like the words ‘supporting beam’ and ‘load-bearing wall.’

  “Yeah, I know,” said Odelia. “And I’m very sorry, Mrs. Bunyon. Looks like the gun that killed the person we found in the woods belonged to your husband.”

  “But that’s impossible!” said Kathleen Bunyon as she tightly gripped her purse in her lap. “My husband is not a killer, Miss Poole—he simply isn’t! Can’t you do something?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “But he didn’t do it—I swear. And now he’ll definitely lose his kids. His ex-wife will use this to yank his visitation rights so fast…” She shook her head in utter dismay.

  “Is there anyone else who had access to that gun?” asked Odelia. “Your daughter, maybe?”

  “No. Karl always keeps that safe locked up tight.”

  “Did you know that your daughter was the girlfriend of Darryl Farmer?”

  “Who?”

  “Darryl Farmer, the DJ who was found dead in an elevator shaft two nights ago.”

  Kathleen frowned as she digested this piece of information, which clearly was news to her. “My daughter is seventeen, Miss Poole. She doesn’t date.”

  “Well, I have it on good authority that she does—or did.”

  “Darryl Farmer,” Kathleen repeated slowly. “Is this a boy in her class? Cause I think I once caught her texting some kid in her class—using very inappropriate language.”