“Oh, imagine Ross having kids,” said Suzanne. “The horror.”

  “What can you tell us about Sebastian Poe?” asked Odelia.

  And so the two women told us all about Mr. Poe, though their account didn’t add anything more to the story than we already knew, unfortunately. They also thought that Poe just might be Ross’s killer but couldn’t be sure.

  “For what it’s worth, detective,” said Suzanne, “I, for one, feel very sorry for what we did to that poor man. I was one of the few people who voted in favor of going to the police, but I was overruled by the majority.”

  “I also voted in favor,” said Jeanine. “And maybe we should have gone to the police anyway, though the others would probably have denied everything, and Ross certainly would have.”

  “He said that if we talked, we’d never work in the hospitality industry again,” said Suzanne. “And I could live with that. After working on the Aurora, I wanted to quit anyway.”

  “So what are you going to do now?” asked Odelia.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Return home and stay with my parents for a while. Think about what I’ll do next. Or maybe I could join my mom. She runs a diner in my home town and has always expressed a fervent wish that I would join her one day. I could waitress while she does the kitchen. My grandmother also works there, so it’s pretty much a family affair. And to be honest, nothing would suit me better right now than to be home again and spend time with my family.”

  We left them to discuss their respective futures, and as Odelia closed the door, she said, “I’m starting to suspect more and more that the man who carjacked Chantal Jones’s car last night just might have been Sebastian Poe.”

  “But why?” asked Chase. “If he managed to get from his island all the way to Hampton Cove, don’t you think he would have had transport?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s imperative that we find him. He could very well be our killer.”

  “I think the case is closed already, Max,” said Dooley as we returned to the lobby of the hotel. “Sebastian Poe is obviously the killer. He was knocked off the Aurora, ended up on some remote island where he was nursed back to health by locals, and once his memory returned, he set out to take revenge on his former best friend who tried to kill him. In fact...” He gave me a look of significance. “I think I may know Mr. Poe’s real name.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Jason Bourne, of course! Left out at sea to die, with no recollection of who he is or what he’s done, once his body is healed by a beautiful woman—”

  “I think it was an elderly fisherman.”

  “—he discovers his true identity and goes in search of the people who did this to him. Sebastian Poe is Jason Bourne, Max!”

  “Somehow I doubt it, Dooley.”

  “And of course, he killed Robert Ross.” He gasped and held a paw to his face. “Max!”

  “What?”

  “He’s not done!”

  “He isn’t?”

  “Of course not! He’ll want revenge on all the people he holds responsible for what happened to him. Next, he’ll go after the crew members, finishing them off one by one. And then when he’s done with them, he’ll start on those women from the island who were there that night. There will be a lot of dead bodies before this history is done, Max.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Of course there will be. There’s Jason Bourne 1, 2, 3, and 4, and there are spin-offs, Max. And we all know that spin-offs are always a lot worse than the original.”

  Oh, dear Lord.

  CHAPTER 20

  It had taken the neighborhood watch, in its new guise as a mixed cat and human collaboration, a little time to determine the identity of the mystery woman they assumed had paid a visit to Ross on his private yacht. And in the end, it was actually Harriet who had found her. After talking to several of their friends, Buster had remembered that Fido had a customer in his hair salon that morning who had remembered the actor with fondness. According to her, she had been his English teacher when he was in high school, and even then she had seen what a great talent he possessed.

  “When he played King Lear, I knew he was destined for greatness,” she told Fido, who responded that there certainly were Shakespearean elements hidden in the work of the author of the James Fox books, something the schoolteacher had wholeheartedly agreed with.

  “James Fox is Shakespeare,” she had claimed. “Only without the shooting and the high-tech gizmos, of course. But the themes and the general theatricality are definitely inspired by the Bard.” She had clasped her hands together. “Oh, and to think I was the one who discovered and nurtured his talent. What a gift to the world!”

  “And such a loss,” Fido had said fervently, for he was a huge fan of Robert Ross, as were most of the people who had passed through the salon that afternoon, all eager to find out the latest about the terrible murder that had rocked their community. It isn’t every day that an A-list Hollywood star is murdered. And even more so when that major movie star was a local!

  And that’s when Buster dropped his bombshell. “So the schoolteacher also told Fido that Robert had been such a lovely boy, and that she had been so sad when he and Jane broke up.”

  This was the moment Harriet had perked up her ears. “Jane?”

  “Yes, Jane Collins. Apparently, she and Robert were destined to be together forever, but unfortunately, it was not to be, and they soon broke up, and then Robert left town, never to return until today.”

  “Jane Collins,” Harriet had repeated, as if in a daze. She had solved the murder! She knew it. She just knew it. Jane Collins had paid a visit to Robert Ross that morning, after not having seen the man for twenty-five years, and for some reason had carried along with her on her date a little vial of cyanide, which she had deposited in her former boyfriend’s drink. But when Buster asked her why she would have done such a thing, she had to admit that as far as motive was concerned, things were still a little hazy.

  “But I’ll figure it out,” she said. “Just you wait and see.”

  They had immediately returned to the Star Hotel, where Gran and Scarlett had still been happily chattering away about the investigation they were going to get involved in if and when they managed to drag themselves away from the pleasant surroundings of the hotel’s outside dining area and its most delicious offerings of caffeinated beverages and cake. So she had told Gran all about Jane Collins and how happy she and Robert had been together, at least for a little while. As a consequence Gran had taken out her phone and had googled Jane Collins, and before long she had hit upon the right person, or at least she thought she had. “There are three Jane Collinses in Hampton Cove,” she said unhappily. “But I’m pretty sure it’s this one. What do you think, honey?” She held up her phone so her friend could chime in.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” said Scarlett easily. “She certainly seems to fit the part.”

  “The age, Scarlett,” Gran insisted. “She needs to fit the right age.”

  “Well...” Scarlett squinted at the screen. “God, don’t tell me I’m going to need reading glasses,” she lamented. Finally, she gave up. “You decide,” she said. “You’re the head of the watch, so you’re in charge. And besides, it’s your investigation.”

  “I say this is she,” Gran decided. “So let’s go and pay her a visit, shall we?” She got up, then sank back down again. “Only... we don’t know where she lives.”

  “Easy peasy. Just call your granddaughter and have her find out.”

  “I don’t want to call Odelia just yet,” said Gran. “First I want to make sure we hit the bull’s-eye with this one.”

  “So how do you propose we find out where this Jane Collins person lives?”

  “Like you said: easy peasy. We simply call in at the police station.”

  “But I thought you just said—”

  “Just trust me. I know what I’m doing, all right?”

  “Uh-oh,” said Brutus, and he was right. Every time Gran used those words, things were about to get a little rocky.

  Moments later, Gran was in communication with Dolores, the police station dispatcher. “Yes, this is Mrs. Slater,” said Gran in a high-pitched voice. “Marina Slater. I’m a good friend of Jane Collins, and I’m standing right outside her door right now, and I see a bee. So can you send the fire department? I’m sure she’s got a nest, and you know how dangerous those nests can be, especially to kids. So send a fire truck and get rid of that nest of dangerous wasps, will you?” She winked at Scarlett, who had listened in through the magic of speakerphone.

  “Vesta, I know this is you,” said Dolores. “So what’s all this about a nest of bees or wasps, and why does your voice sound so weird? Have you been stung yourself, is that it?”

  “Oh, but I’m not... Vesta, you said? I’m Marina Slater, a good friend of—”

  “Vesta, I can see your number. It says right here on my display that it’s you, so stop messing around, will you?”

  “Oh, all right,” said Gran with an eye roll. “All this technology is killing creativity. So where does she live, this Jane Collins? I need to talk to her.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing important.”

  “You know I can’t just give out people’s personal information, right?”

  “And why not? Like I said, it’s important.”

  “You just said it’s not important!”

  “Well, it is and it ain’t. It’s important to me, but not to you.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. I’m putting you through.”

  “Wait!”

  But the deed was done, and Uncle Alec’s voice boomed through the phone’s speaker. “Now what?” the big man asked.

  “I need Jane Collins’s address for personal reasons,” said Gran. “And don’t tell me you can’t give it to me because of privacy. Nobody cares about privacy.”

  “This wouldn’t be connected to the Robert Ross case, would it?”

  “Absolutely not. This is neighborhood watch business. Why?”

  “Because Chase and Odelia are on their way over there right now.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me that address, Alec. They’re not going to beat me to it. Not this time!”

  “Only if you promise me to behave.”

  “I always behave!”

  “Promise me, Ma.”

  “Okay, fine. I promise.”

  “So I won’t get any more complaints?”

  “What complaints? Who complained?”

  “Caroline and Kirk Poots.”

  “What did they have to complain about?”

  “They said you tried to arrest them.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You’re not a cop, Ma.”

  “I know that.”

  “So don’t go around threatening to arrest people.”

  “Of course not! Who do you think I am? Dirty Harry?”

  Uncle Alec grumbled something under his breath, then supplied them with the address for Jane and Bert Collins. The moment Gran hung up, she rubbed her hands with glee. “We’re back in business, people! Let’s go!”

  And so they were off, Gran in an effort to beat her granddaughter and Chase to solve this case, and Brutus and Harriet in a bid to beat Max and Dooley.

  The game was afoot!

  CHAPTER 21

  When we finally arrived at the house where Jane Collins lived, we discovered that we weren’t the only ones with a distinct interest in talking to Robert Ross’s former girlfriend. The moment Chase pulled the car to a stop, a familiar little red Peugeot also pulled up, and Gran, Scarlett, Harriet, and Brutus spilled out, immediately breaking into a run and heading for the house.

  “Now will you look at that,” said Chase, sounding amused. “If it ain’t the neighborhood watch squad.”

  “What are they doing here?” asked Odelia, not all that amused.

  “Probably the same thing we are: wanting to have a word with Mrs. Collins.”

  “We better head them off before they try to arrest the poor woman,” said Odelia. And so we all hurried out of the car and joined Gran and the others on the front porch of the house. Gran had already pressed her finger to the doorbell, so it looked as if Mrs. Collins would be interviewed by a small committee instead of the customary detective and his loyal sidekick.

  “You better let us handle this, Gran,” said Odelia.

  “And you better let us handle this, Odelia,” Gran shot back. “This is our case and we got here first, so we’ve got dibs on Jane Collins.”

  “You can’t have dibs in a murder inquiry!” said Odelia.

  “Of course you can. You can have dibs on anything anytime, and right now, we have first dibs on Jane Collins.”

  The door opened before Odelia could retort, and from the look on her face, I could tell it would have been a doozy. But when Mrs. Collins suddenly materialized in front of us—or at least I assumed that this was she—the hostilities were momentarily put on hold, and all those present plastered an engaging smile on their faces. Except Chase, who held up his badge instead.

  “Chase Kingsley,” he announced. “Hampton Cove Police. Jane Collins?”

  “That’s right,” said the woman. She was about Marge’s age and was a slender woman with straw-blond hair and a kind face. “What is this about?”

  “Can we come in for a moment, Mrs. Collins?”

  “I guess so,” she said and stepped aside to let the small contingent into her cozy little home. The moment we had all made ourselves comfortable in the living room, she reiterated her earlier question. “What is this all about?”

  “I’m sorry to have to inform you, Mrs. Collins,” said Chase, taking the lead, “that a former friend of yours has died.”

  “Yes, I know. Robert Ross? It’s been all over the news.”

  Chase directed a glance at his wife, who blushed slightly, since it was she who had written the article that had informed Mrs. Collins of the death of her former sweetheart. “We’ve been talking to people who knew Mr. Ross,” the reporter explained. “And we’ve been told that you and Mr. Ross used to be—”

  “An item?” asked Mrs. Collins. “That was a long time ago, Miss…”

  “Mrs. Kingsley. Odelia Kingsley. And this is my grandmother Vesta Muffin and her friend Scarlett Canyon. Both members of the neighborhood watch.”

  If Jane wondered why two members of the watch were present at a police interview, she didn’t pose the question. But then stranger things have probably happened, like, for instance, the presence of four cats sitting in on the same interview.

  “Look, this was all a very long time ago. Robert and I used to date for a while, but then we split up and I haven’t seen the man since.”

  “Could I ask why you split up?” asked Chase.

  “Oh, God. Talk about dredging up the past. It was just one of those things, you know. One of those relationships that simply ran its course. Once we graduated, Robert and I went our separate ways. I went off to study fashion design at the New York School of Design, and Robert started his first year of journalism at NYU. We were supposed to keep seeing each other, but you know how it goes. Once high school is over, everything changes. You meet new people, and high school suddenly feels like a different world. I seem to remember we tried to keep our relationship, if that’s what you can call it, going for a while, but eventually things fizzled out. I don’t think I’ve seen him in over twenty years.”

  “Until this morning,” said Gran, giving Jane a close look. The old lady was perched on the edge of the couch and looked ready to spring.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jane. “I didn’t see Robert this morning.”

  “Robert was meeting someone this morning,” Odelia explained. “He’d asked the crew of the yacht he was traveling on to leave the vessel. So we’ve been looking for this mystery person, who quite possibly was the last person to see Robert alive.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” said Jane decidedly. “Like I said, I hadn’t seen Robert in over twenty years. I didn’t even know he was back in town.”

  “So he didn’t get in touch with you?” asked Chase.

  “No, he didn’t. And even if he had, I’m not sure I would have gone to meet him. It’s been such a long time ago. Like a different life, you know.”

  “But this Robert wasn’t the same Robert you used to know,” said Odelia. “Robert Ross had become a famous actor. Weren’t you curious to meet him?”

  Jane smiled. “Okay, I confess that I’ve always wondered if he would remember me. For him to become such a major star was beyond the realm of what either of us thought possible at the time. And so as he rose to the top, I often wondered how it would be like to meet again. But then I figured our worlds were so different we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

  “Did you become a fashion designer?” asked Scarlett, who’s very much into fashion herself, only not as a creator, per se, but more as an avid consumer.

  “I did, yes. Only not at the level that I was hoping for at the time. I design sewing patterns that I post on Etsy. People then buy them and make the clothes. It’s rewarding work, though maybe not as important as some of the real designers out there designing actual clothes.”

  “Oh, but you are designing actual clothes,” Odelia assured her.

  “Thanks. That’s very kind of you to say, Mrs. Kingsley. And I do love the work I do, and I get a lot of feedback from happy customers. They even post pictures of the dresses that they created based on my designs, which is very gratifying for me. Though nowadays I’m mostly proud of my family, which I guess is also something I created.”

  “You and your husband have kids?” asked Chase.

  “Four,” said Jane with a smile and pointed to a framed picture on the wall behind us. It depicted Jane herself with a round-faced man and four girls. “It’s an old picture, taken when the girls were in primary school. They’re all grown up now, with only the two youngest ones still living at home. The others have flown the nest, though lucky for us they decided not to move too far away from home. They both live on the same block, as a matter of fact.”