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

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

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

  “Now!” cried Brutus. “Go, go, go!”

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

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

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

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

  “We need to be sure!” she hissed.

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

  “Is it Laron Weskit?” I asked.

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

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

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

  “Dooley!” I said. “Wait!”

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

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

  27

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah, we miss you,” said Brutus.

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

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

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

  “Thanks, Gran,” I said.

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

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

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

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

  “And Chase,” said Brutus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Nice to meet you,” said Brutus politely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You know how that ended, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “We’d have to ask Laron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You did it, Dooley,” I said.

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

  “You solved the murder!”

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

  28

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “No, not a clue,” said Vesta.

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

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

  “Too bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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