Which was probably the reason Harriet was so keen on starting her career as a singer on stage. To get back at Shanille. Show her once and for all what a terrific soloist she really was.

  “I doubt whether a jury would convict Shanille for that,” said Kingman. “Denying a choir singer their solo is not a punishable offense, as far as I know.”

  “Well, it should be,” Harriet insisted. “It’s caused me great emotional distress and I’m entitled compensation. Not to mention she’s reduced my earning capacity. A talent scout who just happened to be watching our rehearsals would have signed me up in a heartbeat. But if no one is allowed to sing a solo, no scouts will come to our rehearsals.”

  “Do you really think talent scouts come to our rehearsals?” I asked.

  “Of course! How else are they going to scout fresh new talent like me?”

  Kingman, who’d been smiling at this quaint conceit, wiped the smile from his face when he caught Harriet’s icy glare. It never ends well when you laugh at something she says. Harriet hates to be made a fool of, a chink in her armor we’re all well aware of.

  “So are you going to do any more performing?” asked Kingman now.

  “I doubt it,” said Harriet sadly. “Laron fired Gran, and I guess that means the end of my career, too.”

  “Too bad,” muttered Brutus, though he looked like the cat that got the cream.

  “Maybe I’ll have a word with Shanille,” said Kingman. “Ask her to reconsider this whole solo policy. I’ll tell her that every great choir embraces the solo as part of its repertoire, and if she simply promises every member of cat choir that they are entitled to perform their own solo at some point, it shouldn’t breed any jealousy or envy.”

  “That’s a great idea, Kingman,” I said. “If everyone is a soloist, there’s no need for jealousy.”

  Harriet didn’t look convinced. “It will devalue the solo, though,” she said. “If everyone is a soloist, what’s the point? Besides, cat choir has dozens of members. If they all get to do a solo, it will take months before it’s my turn. I think this is a lousy idea, Kingman.”

  And on this note of constructive criticism, she stalked off, then turned. “Let’s go, Brutus.” And Brutus, after waggling his eyebrows at us, quickly traipsed off after her.

  “Tough baby,” said Kingman.

  “Harriet wants to shine,” I explained. “And it’s hard to shine when everyone shines.”

  “I would like to do a solo once,” said Dooley.

  Kingman and I both smiled. Now that Dooley had tasted stardom, he wanted more.

  “I’ll talk to Shanille,” said Kingman. “Tonight you’ll get your solo, Dooley.”

  And Dooley shone, which warmed my heart. The thing is, some cats are pleased when other cats shine. Dooley being a star made me feel happy for him, not jealous. Then again, Dooley was my friend, of course. I doubted whether I’d feel happy if, for instance, Milo ended up being the star of the piece, as I don’t like Milo all that much.

  “So are you guys going to the wake?” asked Kingman.

  We both stared at him. “Wake? What wake?” I asked.

  “Chickie Hay’s wake, of course. Who else? Wilbur is going, and so is half the town. Wilbur said it’ll be the social event of the season.”

  Wilbur Vickery, Kingman’s human, is as much a gossip as his four-legged sidekick.

  “What’s a wake, Max?” asked Dooley.

  “It’s when people get to greet the body of a dearly departed,” I said. “They can sit with the body and remember their loved one, or even share stories about the deceased.”

  “Why is it called a wake, though?”

  “Because you have to stay awake throughout the thing,” said Kingman. “If you fall asleep it’s a sign of disrespect.”

  I doubted whether this was the case, but Dooley seemed satisfied. “I hope I can stay awake,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful to Miss Hay.”

  “I’m sure we’re not invited,” I said, “so that won’t be an issue.”

  “And I’m sure we’re all invited,” said Kingman. “Chickie loved pets. She would have wanted us to be there.”

  “Are you going?” Dooley asked Kingman.

  “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He abruptly turned away. Two exceedingly attractive felines had entered the store, and Kingman wouldn’t be Kingman if he wasn’t keen on welcoming them personally, wishing them a wonderful shopping experience.

  And as Dooley and I walked out of the store, I said, “Maybe we should go to the wake. Pay our respects.”

  “Maybe we should,” Dooley agreed. “And maybe Gran can sing her song again. As a sign of respect.”

  “I doubt whether that’ll happen.”

  “But why? She’s a very good singer.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s a terrible singer.”

  “But Charlie likes her, and Laron Weskit. And they are the experts.”

  “They like her because of the novelty factor. Once that wears off, they’d have dumped her like yesterday’s trash. It’s like those dancing poodles you see on YouTube,” I explained when he gave me a look of confusion. “We all love to watch poodles dance, but people tire of them very quickly, and then they see a grinning turtle and they all flock to the turtle, giving it likes and follows, until the novelty wears off, and so on and so forth.”

  “You mean Gran is like a dancing poodle?”

  “Or an elephant who can play the clarinet. Simply a novelty.”

  “Poor Gran. I don’t think she knows she’s like an elephant who plays the clarinet.”

  “I think deep down she does know.”

  “How about Tex? Is he a novelty?”

  “No, Tex is a regular musician.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. Gran makes people laugh and makes them have a good time, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

  He was right. As long as people were entertained, it didn’t matter if you were a talented musician or a novelty act. And Gran certainly had a high capacity for providing entertainment.

  32

  Uncle Alec had asked Chase to visit Chickie’s family and give them an update, and Chase had asked Odelia to tag along. Her presence, he felt, would smooth things over with the family after they’d already caught the wrong guy when they arrested Olaf the Stalker. Chickie’s mother had expressed disappointment with the way the investigation was progressing, and Chase felt Odelia had established a rapport with Yuki and Nickie.

  “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to bring Max and Dooley along, though,” said Chase as he drove them up to the house. “Last time Max got stuck inside the coroner’s office and you had to go and bail him out.”

  “He won’t do it again,” said Odelia. Max had taken such a fright that he wouldn’t climb a fence or an ambulance for a long time. “Isn’t that right, Max?”

  “Absolutely,” said Max. “No stunts from me this time. I promise.”

  “Or me,” said Dooley.

  “So why are we going back to the house, exactly?” asked Max.

  “To give the family an update on the investigation,” said Odelia. “Especially now with Jamie’s arrest.”

  “Are you going to tell them I caught Jamie?” asked Dooley.

  “Um… I think we better not mention that. Most people think it’s a little strange when cats solve murders and talk to their humans.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Dooley, sounding disappointed. Now that he had solved a crime he obviously felt the whole world should be informed.

  “I’ll tell them you helped, though. How about that?”

  “You will? Oh, I would love that,” said Dooley, and Odelia laughed.

  “He wants to take the credit for Jamie’s arrest,” Odelia explained for Chase’s sake.

  “Can’t blame him. He did a great job,” said Chase. “So where are the other two?”

  “I couldn’t find them. Max says Harriet walked off on a huff. She wants to sing the solos in cat choir and Shanille told her it’s not fair for one cat always to sing the solos and now she’s upset.”

  “Oh, God. Cat drama. You gotta love it.”

  Odelia had decided to bring Max and Dooley along because she found it very hard to see Jamie as Chickie’s killer. There was something they were missing, and in her experience it was always best to return to the scene of the crime and start afresh.

  Chase parked the car across the road and they walked up to the gate. She recognized Tyson’s voice chiming through the intercom and moments later they were buzzed in.

  Yuki was waiting on the doorstep, looking nervous. “So what’s the news?” she asked. “I heard you arrested Jamie? Is it true? Did she kill my daughter?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Chase suggested.

  They headed in while Max and Dooley stayed outside.

  They followed Yuki into the living room and took their seats on a white leather sofa.

  “So Jamie Borowiak was arrested this morning,” Chase began. “And we think there’s a good chance she’s the person who killed your daughter.”

  Nickie had joined them and now sat, legs tucked underneath her, listening intently.

  “Jamie? Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Odelia. “We’re sure.”

  “You were also sure when you arrested that stalker,” Yuki pointed out.

  “He’s been released. And he’s no longer a suspect.”

  “Because now you have Jamie. But what makes you so sure she’s the one? Did she confess?”

  “No, she hasn’t confessed yet,” said Chase.

  Odelia told them about the letter, and Yuki nodded seriously. “Pretty damning evidence,” she said. “But not conclusive, wouldn’t you say?”

  “My uncle is interrogating her now,” said Odelia. “He had to wait until her lawyer arrived. I’m sure he’ll get her to confess to what she’s done.” She wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but she could hardly share her own doubts with the victim’s family.

  “I hope so,” said Yuki. “Otherwise you’ll have to let her go and then you still have nothing.”

  “As I said, we’re fairly sure we have the right person in custody this time,” said Chase.

  “But why?” asked Yuki, wringing her hands. “Why would she do such a thing? They were BFFs. They’ve known each other for years. They started in the business together.”

  “Yeah, they were more like sisters than friends,” said Nickie, frowning.

  “Revenge, most likely,” said Odelia.

  “A fight over the boyfriend,” Chase added.

  “All this over that silly Charlie?” asked Yuki. She shook her head, and buried her face in her hands. “Such a shame. Such a terrible, terrible shame.”

  “Are you coming to the wake?” asked Nickie, changing the subject and rubbing her mother on the back.

  “Yes, if that’s all right with you,” said Chase.

  “Of course. And Chief Lip, too.”

  “Chickie’s… body was released yesterday,” said Yuki. “And the funeral director assures us he’ll give her the most wonderful wake. I wanted to bury her in LA but…” Her voice broke, and Nickie took her hand in hers.

  “I told Mom to bury Chickie here,” said Nickie. “She loved it so much out here, so…”

  “They want me to select a dress for Chickie,” said Yuki. “And jewelry. But I can’t find her favorite earrings. The ones her grandmother gave her.”

  “I’m sure they’ll turn up, Mom. I’ll go through her stuff again.”

  Her mom nodded tearfully. “Oh, why did this have to happen to us? We were so happy together.”

  “If you want I can help you look for the earrings,” Odelia suggested, touched by Yuki’s sorrow.

  “That’s all right,” said Nickie. “I’m sure they’re in her room somewhere.”

  “No, let her help,” said Yuki. “She’s a detective. This is what she does: detect.”

  “What do they look like?” asked Odelia.

  “Um… I’ll show you a picture,” said Yuki. She took out her smartphone and called up a picture of Chickie wearing a pair of delicate crescent-moon golden earrings.

  Yuki smiled as she studied the picture. “They belonged to my mother. Chickie was crazy about them. Wore them all the time.”

  “I’ll have a look around while you discuss the case,” Odelia said.

  “Second room on the right,” said Yuki. “Right next to mine.”

  As Odelia took the stairs two at a time, her heart hurt for Yuki. The poor woman was so distraught and grieving it was hard to bear.

  She arrived upstairs and opened the door to Chickie’s room. It wasn’t a room, though, but more a suite of rooms. There was a living space, a bedroom, a dressing room, a yoga and meditation area and of course a large bathroom. And as she started going through Chickie’s things, she suddenly felt a sense of impropriety. This wasn’t really her prerogative, going through a dead person’s personal items. Chickie had a lot of gorgeous things, though, all kept in a large jewelry box. And as she searched through the many rings and bracelets and earrings, she found no trace of the missing ones.

  The door opened and Nickie walked in. “And? Found them?”

  “No,” said Odelia. “Your sister had a lot of beautiful things, though.”

  “Yes, she did.” Nickie walked into the dressing room and called for Odelia to follow her. Nickie flicked on the light and Odelia’s jaw dropped at the sight of the gorgeous collection of clothes. There were so many. Beautiful dresses, rows and rows of shoes, an entire section dedicated to underwear and lingerie…

  “There’s more over here,” said Nickie, gesturing to a vanity. “My sister loved shopping,” she explained as she took a seat on a low overstuffed sofa bench. “She could spend hours in here, and always complained she had nothing to wear.” She produced a wan smile as Odelia checked the drawers in the vanity desk. There were several more boxes of jewelry there, but no crescent-moon-shaped golden earrings.

  “It’s hell,” said Nickie somberly. “When we were little we used to fight like cats and dogs. She was born five minutes before me, and she never let me forget it. I was her little sister and so she got to boss me around. I never let her, though, hence the fights. But as we got past our teens we stopped fighting and became best friends instead. She relied on me a lot, and not just with her career. Life stuff, too. And boyfriend stuff, of course.”

  “So you know all about the whole Charlie Dieber thing.”

  “My sister and Charlie met when they were both sixteen. Boy and girl affair. It didn’t last, of course. They were both too young and immature. By the time they broke up they practically hated each other. They got back together again, only to break up again. And then get back together again, etcetera etcetera.”

  “And then Charlie met Jamie.”

  “Actually the three of them had known each other for years. Jamie was Chickie’s best friend, but I think secretly she’d always had feelings for Charlie. But being Chickie’s friend she never acted on those feelings. Only when Chickie and Charlie broke up did she make a move. Chickie was very upset—which is probably when she wrote that letter.”

  “She didn’t want to be with Charlie but still wasn’t entirely over him either.”

  “Exactly.”

  Odelia sat back. “I’m sorry but I can’t find those earrings, Nickie.”

  “Maybe she lost them. My sister was notoriously careless with her things.”

  “Or someone could have stolen them,” Odelia suggested. “They look valuable.”

  “It’s mostly the emotional value. Because they were Gram’s.” She got up. “Don’t worry, they’ll turn up sooner or later. But maybe not in time for the wake.”

  As they walked out of the dressing room, Nickie switched off the lights and gave Odelia a sad smile. “I miss her, you know. As if a part of me is gone now.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Odelia, placing a consoling hand on Nickie’s arm.

  And then the young woman broke down in tears, possibly for the first time since her sister died. “It’s only starting to dawn on me now,” she said. “Chickie’s gone. She’s really gone and I’ll never get to see her again.”

  They walked along the corridor when Odelia thought she caught a glimpse of Max and Dooley. Good. Hopefully they’d find a fresh clue. Yuki and Nickie deserved to get some closure, and the only way to accomplish that was by finding the real killer.

  33

  We decided to forgo another meeting with the peacock and to go in search of Boyce Catt instead. It had occurred to me we’d never offered him our condolences and now seemed as good a time for that as any.

  We found him in the garden, seated on one of those rustic cast-iron benches, contemplating his fate, and looking very philosophical.

  “Hey there, little doggie,” said Dooley, and for once the dog had no retort ready about giving Dooley two nips in his buttocks, or maybe even as much as four.

  “Hey, cats,” he said, sounding as dejected as he appeared.

  “We never told you how sorry we are about the death of your human,” I said.

  “Yes, and we’d also like to tell you that we discovered who did it,” Dooley added.

  I could see how eager Dooley was to tell the story of the letter, so I added, “Actually Dooley here discovered the missing clue. He discovered the letter that proves that Jamie murdered your human.”

  “Huh,” he said. “Is that a fact?” He didn’t sound appropriately impressed.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said? They arrested Jamie, the woman who murdered your human.”

  “That’s great,” he said, and sighed deeply. “I’ve been adopted by Nickie, you know.”

  “Nickie? But I thought you belonged to the whole family?”

  “No, I was Chickie’s, and now that she’s gone, Nickie has decided to adopt me. She’s been adopting a lot of Chickie’s stuff lately. Her clothes, her car… me.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of her, isn’t it? After all, someone needs to take care of you, so why not Nickie?”

  “Don’t you like Nickie?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t she nice?”