“What about the treasure map?” asked Odelia. “Did you take that from the safe?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “No, we didn’t. Whoever killed them must have done that. I’m not interested in some stupid treasure map. We knew it was a fake. So why take it?”

  “Who told you it was a fake?”

  “Mrs. Reyna did. Her husband had this party trick—he would take out the map and start going on and on about where the treasure was buried and that he was the only person who could find it. But his wife told us it was a fake. Something made by an artist. And that we shouldn’t pay any attention to what her husband said.” She frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Are you saying she was lying? That the map was real after all?”

  “I don’t know, Christi,” said Odelia. “But it’s gone. So whoever killed the Eiderducks must have thought it was worth something.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said thoughtfully. “He was very proud of his map. Always going on and on about that thing. But… if it was real, why didn’t he dig it up? That would have solved all of his money problems. And then maybe he would have been able to pay us.”

  “That,” said Chase, “is the million-dollar question.”

  And it just might be, I thought. Or even several million—if the stories were true.

  CHAPTER 31

  The final person on Chase and Odelia’s list was Ida Baumgartner. As the leader of the animal rights group that had targeted Bramwell Eiderduck, she was an obvious suspect—and the fact that she hadn’t been interviewed yet spoke volumes about Mick Harper’s conviction that he had the right suspect in custody. It also revealed his lack of experience, as any good detective will tell you that you need to speak to all possible suspects in a case, even if you think you’ve already found the culprit. You can’t simply pick and choose.

  “It’s my fault,” said Chase as we walked up to the apartment block where Ida lived. “I should have been more hands-on and given him direction. I left him to his own devices, and we see how that turned out.”

  “This wasn’t your fault at all, Chase,” said Odelia. “You told Mick to follow your lead, but he figured he knew best and didn’t have to listen to you.”

  “Yeah, I guess he was pretty gung-ho. But I still should have taken a firmer line.”

  It didn’t take long for the lady of the house to appear. As usual, Ida looked as formidable as we all knew her to be.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Detective Kingsley—Odelia?” she asked in regal tones.

  She wouldn’t have been out of place playing a queen, I thought. Or even being one, if America had been a monarchy.

  “Can we come in for a moment, Ida?” asked Odelia. “We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about Bramwell Eiderduck.”

  Her face clouded. “Oh, that odious little man. Do I really have to talk about him?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh, well. Then I guess you’d better come in.” She led the way into the hallway, where the same portrait of her late husband still adorned the wall. Contrary to her, he had been a smallish specimen of a man with a remarkably weak chin. Somehow, he reminded me of a dog. A chihuahua, maybe—the kind of dog a lady like Ida would enjoy keeping on her lap.

  “He looks like a lapdog, Max,” said Dooley, who must have noticed the same similarity.

  “He does,” I agreed. “Or did.”

  Speaking of lapdogs, I noticed that Ida’s teacup chihuahua wasn’t on the premises. But as Ida led the way, she explained, “You’ll have to excuse Minnie’s absence. I dropped her off at the pet salon, so I’m afraid I can only give you one hour before I have to go and fetch her.”

  We stepped into the living area, tastefully decorated in a classic, old-fashioned style. The wallpaper featured cherubic angels strumming harps, the buffet cabinet strained under the weight of fine china, and a Persian rug stretched elegantly across the gleaming hardwood floor. A solid oak table and chairs anchored the room with their sturdy presence.

  Smiling sweetly at us from dozens of frames was Minnie Mouse, every surface crowded with photos of Ida’s beloved little sweetheart, a pink bow perched neatly atop her head.

  “Please take a seat,” said our hostess, gesturing to the rather uncomfortable-looking chairs, as she did the same. “So how can I help you?”

  “First, we need to preface this interview by telling you that I’m no longer employed by the Hampton Cove Police Department,” said Chase. “I’m here to assist my wife.”

  “And I’m here in my capacity as a reporter for the Hampton Cove Gazette,” said Odelia.

  Ida arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Oh?” she said, managing to inject a great deal of meaning into the one syllable. “You quit the force?”

  “I did,” said Chase.

  “May I ask why? Or were you dismissed?”

  “I wasn’t dismissed. I quit over a… let’s say, disagreement on how to run the detective division.”

  “I’ve heard through the grapevine that Mick Harper is in charge now. Is that true?”

  “It’s true,” said Chase grudgingly.

  “A very strange decision on Chief Lip’s part, I must say. Mick Harper is still wet behind the ears, and already he’s been put in charge of such an important department? I find that baffling. And worrying. Are you sure the man is up to the task?”

  “No comment,” said Chase, pressing his lips firmly together, as if to stop himself from making a remark he might later regret.

  Ida’s other eyebrow shot up. “Well!” she said, once again displaying her unique ability to load a single word with a wealth of judgment.

  “So what can you tell us about Bramwell Eiderduck, Ida?” asked Odelia. “We know that you didn’t agree with the way he ran his pug breeding operation.”

  “That is quite the understatement, Odelia,” said Ida with a curt, humorless laugh. “The man was a monster. Cruel to animals and unrepentant when confronted with his loathsome behavior. When my attention was first drawn to his operation, I naturally assumed the whistleblower must be exaggerating. But an inspection in situ told me otherwise.”

  “You paid a visit to Bramwell’s pug farm?”

  “I did indeed. Under the cover of darkness, naturally, as Bramwell would never have allowed us to set foot inside that so-called ‘pug farm’ of his.”

  “You illegally entered Bramwell’s property?”

  “I did no such thing!” said Ida. “I merely used my right as a citizen to carry out an inspection. And a good thing I did, for the circumstances in which Bramwell kept his dogs shocked even a hardened person like me! The animals were forced into small cages, which weren’t even properly cleaned. They weren’t allowed to socialize, they weren’t properly fed, and they had no access to clean water. The whole thing was an absolute disgrace!”

  “So you started a campaign to release the pugs?” asked Chase.

  “Of course. I wrote to the mayor, but she didn’t seem in any particular hurry to do something about this.”

  “You contacted Charlene Butterwick.”

  “I most certainly did. She said she’d look into it—which, as we all know, is what politicians say when they fully intend to do absolutely nothing. Then I wrote to the governor, the senator, and even the president. They all said the same thing.”

  “They’d look into it.”

  Ida nodded imperiously. “And so we decided to take matters into our own hands and start a campaign. We protested outside the house, launched a petition, posted videos we had shot inside the pug farm, and contacted other animal rights groups. All in all, I think we organized quite an extraordinary campaign. At one point, there were at least a hundred activists out there, at the house, fighting for the rights of those poor pugs.”

  “But nothing changed,” Chase pointed out. “The pugs were still there, still kept in the same appalling circumstances. So when did you decide to step up your game?”

  “I know what you’re suggesting, Mr. Kingsley, and I can assure you that I had nothing to do with the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Eiderduck. Whoever killed them may have had the plight of those pugs in mind—or perhaps they had a different motive entirely—but I did not hold the knife that ended their lives.”

  “Can you tell us where you were when they were killed?” asked Odelia.

  Ida smiled a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. I was having my hair done.” She touched the hair in question, and I wondered how she managed to make it look like a pile of cotton candy. It even had the same pink color. “Ask my hairdresser. He’ll tell you.”

  “Fido Siniawski?”

  “One and the same,” said Ida with satisfaction. “He did a marvelous job, don’t you think? Of course, I asked him to use only natural colorants—the other kind gives me a terrible migraine. There was a time I thought it might be a brain tumor, but your father managed to dissuade me from that notion. It turns out it’s the chemicals hairdressers use. In fact, Fido is the only person I trust to touch my hair. He knows what a sensitive person I am—and how delicate my health is.”

  “So what’s going to happen to the pugs now?” asked Odelia, the formal part of the interview over.

  “That all depends on your grandmother, young lady,” said Ida. “She’s promised me she’ll find a suitable new home for the pugs. And she came up with the brilliant idea to organize a raffle. The first prize is fifty pugs. Though of course I reserve the right to do a home visit and an extensive background check on the pugs’ new family. If I don’t like what I find, the deal is off. But I’m sure Vesta will do her best to find the right family. She has her heart in the right place, that one. A heart for animals,” she added, sweeping her arm to include the four of us.

  “Well, that’s true enough,” said Odelia as she got up. “Gran loves animals and would do anything to make sure they’re treated with respect and kindness.”

  “That goes for your entire family, of course,” said Ida, also rising. “Oh, now that you’re here, Odelia—I’ve been meaning to ask. Is it true that Mick Harper takes those dogs of his everywhere he goes?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” she said.

  “Even though they haven’t been properly trained as police dogs?”

  “Yes,” said Odelia. “He feels they don’t need to be trained, as they’re already quite capable of performing the tasks he sets out for them.”

  “Mmh,” said Ida. “I have to admit, I don’t feel entirely comfortable with the notion of a detective out there accompanied by two dogs that haven’t been properly trained and vetted for the job. What if they bite a suspect? Or worse—attack an innocent bystander?”

  “It is a concern,” Odelia admitted.

  “I think I’ll take this up with my group,” she said. “This could be our next project. After all, if these dogs haven’t been properly trained, being out and about with a detective will cause them no small amount of stress. It’s not good for them. Especially not for huskies. Now, your cats are ready to tackle any assignment you throw at them—we’ve seen that in the past. But Mick Harper’s huskies? I have my doubts, Odelia.”

  “As do I,” Odelia said with a smile.

  “I’ll look into it,” said Ida. Then, realizing the irony of her words, she added, “And in my case, that means I’ll act—not merely talk.”

  “Thanks, Ida,” said Odelia as we stepped into the hallway. “You have your heart in the right place.”

  Ida frowned. “I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes I feel like my heart is too far to the right, you see. I’ve mentioned this to your father, but he assured me it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be. Still, I think I need a scan. Maybe an echocardiogram, just to be sure. I asked ChatGPT, and it says I could have a condition called dextrocardia. It’s rare, but it happens. Can lead to breathing difficulties, heart murmurs, recurrent infections…” She suddenly started breathing a little stertorously. “You see? It’s happening even as we speak.”

  She grabbed Odelia’s hand and placed it on her chest.

  “Can you feel it? Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Way too fast. And not in the right location, as I already said. I need to have this looked at. Can you take me to see your father? I need to be examined immediately!”

  And so it was that Odelia’s pickup—formerly an unofficial police vehicle—now functioned as an ambulance.

  Before long, we arrived at Tex’s office, and Ida, supported by Odelia and Chase, was led inside.

  “I hope she’ll be all right, Max,” said Dooley as we watched. “A woman with a heart for animals as big as Ida’s needs looking after.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Dooley,” I said.

  “Tex will take care of her,” said Brutus. “He’s an excellent doctor.”

  “So what have we learned, you guys?” asked Harriet. “That the housekeeper didn’t do it, the actor didn’t do it, the gardener didn’t do it, and Ida didn’t do it. So who did do it?”

  For some reason, she was looking at me as she spoke those words.

  “Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t really been paying all that much attention. What with the huskies and Mick Harper stomping all over Chase’s investigation…”

  Harriet rolled her eyes. “Max! You are the only true detective in town! If you can’t solve this murder, that means a man will be sentenced to prison for a crime he didn’t commit!”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “And I will look into it, all right? I really will.”

  “‘Look into it,’” said Brutus with a chuckle. “Now you sound like a politician, Max.”

  “But I will look into it,” I said. “I promise.”

  At that moment, Gran stepped out of the office, a grim look on her face.

  “Odelia said I’d find you here,” she said. She crouched down with some difficulty. “Okay. Tonight’s the night.”

  “Tonight is what night, Gran?” asked Dooley.

  “The night we start digging for treasure, of course,” she said, her eyes lighting up. She held up her hand. “So, are you with me?”

  “Absolutely!” said Dooley, placing his paw on his human’s hand. “I love digging for treasure!”

  “Harriet? Brutus? Max?”

  “I’m in,” said Harriet. “But only if I get the diadem.”

  “What diadem?” asked Gran.

  “Well, the diadem that’s part of the treasure,” she said. “There’s always a diadem, Gran. Or haven’t you seen the movies?”

  “Okay, the diadem is yours. If we find one.”

  “I’m also game,” said Brutus. “I may not be a dog, so I’m not a big fan of digging, but I love a good adventure. So I’m in.”

  “Max?” asked Gran.

  “Um…” I said. “The thing is, I have a murder to solve. A double murder, actually.”

  “Oh, you can do that later,” said Gran. “Okay, I’m going to count you in, Max. Meet me at midnight in front of the house. The hunt is on!”

  And with those words, she hurried back into the office, possibly to assist Tex in locating Ida’s heart—which, according to Ida, had mysteriously relocated from the left side of her chest to her right. Or perhaps it had gone missing entirely. These things do happen.

  CHAPTER 32

  “What are you thinking, Max?” asked Dooley.

  “Oh, just about the case, you know,” I said.

  “What are you thinking about the case?”

  “Just something Chase said. He mentioned that Mick, when he did his final interview with Brendon Hetman, pulled the blinds so no one could look in through the one-way mirror, and he also turned off the recording. So there’s no record of what was discussed between him and the gardener. All we know is that when he opened the blinds and turned the recorder back on, Hetman suddenly made a complete 180 and confessed to the whole thing. Ten minutes later, Christi walked out of the police precinct—all charges dropped.”

  Brutus had been listening to this with a keen look on his face. “So what are you saying, Max? That Mick offered him a deal? Confess to the murders and your girlfriend walks free?”

  “Something like that,” I said. “And it’s not me saying this—it’s Chase. He thinks the whole thing smells fishy.”

  “Well, it is fishy,” Brutus said. “So why doesn’t Chase tell Uncle Alec?”

  “Because Uncle Alec luuuuves Mick,” said Harriet in a sing-song voice.

  “He does,” Brutus confirmed. “But then so does everyone else in this town. Apart from the four of us—and now maybe the rest of Chase’s family. And I said it first, didn’t I? I told you guys how he locked me up in that suitcase.”

  “He did not lock you up in a suitcase, Brutus,” I said. “The suitcase lid closed by accident.”

  “Yes, how many times, chocolate drop?” asked Harriet.

  “Until you finally believe me—that’s how many,” Brutus said stubbornly. “Okay, so what is taking Gran so long? We’ve been sitting here for half an hour.”

  “She’s probably still packing for her trip,” I said. “Packing is important, especially when you’re going camping like we are.”

  Harriet’s eyes went wide. “We’re going camping? Like, in a tent and all of that?”

  “Of course. How else are we going to stay on a deserted island—which, by definition, is deserted?”

  “But… I figured that was just a figure of speech,” Harriet said. “You know, to appeal to the tourists?”

  “There are no tourists there, as far as I know,” I said. “It’s really just that: a small island off the coast of Hampton Cove. No houses, no hotels—nothing. We’re actually going camping.”

  “Isn’t there at least a nice Airbnb?” Harriet asked in a plaintive tone. “Or a bed-and-breakfast? Or a hotel? Doesn’t have to be five stars. I’ll settle for three. Or three-and-a-half.”

  “No hotels, no B&Bs, no Airbnbs,” I said. “We’re going camping. In a tent.”

  “Maybe we could go glamping?” she asked hopefully. “It’s supposed to be a lot more fun than plain old camping, which isn’t much fun at all.”