“What about Stephanie Gomez?” asked the cop, who must be some kind of detective in the French police. “Why did you kill her?”

  “Who?”

  “Stephanie Gomez.”

  “Never heard of her.” She wasn’t going to admit stuff they couldn’t prove, and she was pretty sure they couldn’t prove the Gomez woman, who was an ex-colleague from her days working as a nurse.

  Odelia smiled. “I think you have. I think Stephanie recognized you that day we all went for a walk in Saint-Tropez. When she called out ‘Kim’ we all thought she was referring to Kimberly Griffiths, when in fact she was trying to attract your attention. So when we took a seat in that café, you quickly went around the back, met up with Mrs. Gomez, and killed her, then made it look like a mugging by taking her wallet and phone and dumping it somewhere nearby after pocketing the money.”

  “We did find her wallet and phone in a dumpster,” the policeman confirmed. “Unfortunately for us, no cameras in that alley.”

  “You took an awfully big risk killing Mrs. Gomez,” said Odelia. “But then you knew you had to, otherwise your plan to marry Harry was dead in the water.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Kim stubbornly. What did they think, that she was stupid? They had her on Daniel, there was no denying that, but the others? No way. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life in a French prison. With Daniel she could always argue that he had turned violent and she had killed him in self-defense. It wasn’t that far from the truth, since Daniel always did have a violent temper, one of the reasons she had divorced him. The other being that he was poor and lacked ambition, something she possessed in spades. If she played her cards right, a jury might even acquit her.

  “I guess if you hadn’t run into Stephanie and your ex-husband, your plan might have worked,” said Odelia now. “But then again, it might not, since Harry is really devoted to Emily.”

  “I would have worn him down eventually,” said Kim. “Another couple of days on that boat and he would have been mine.”

  “You keep believing that,” said Odelia. “The thought will keep you going in jail, where you will be spending the next couple of years.”

  She gave the woman a vicious look. “I should have known you were bad news,” she snapped. “One of Harry’s ex-girlfriends. Yeah, right. You’re too old to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend. And besides, who in their right mind dates the cat lady?”

  Odelia shrugged. “Looks like the cat lady got you, Kim.”

  “Let’s go,” said the cop, and she was led out of the room.

  As she passed Odelia’s fat cat, she had the impression it was smirking.

  Which was impossible, of course.

  “Darn cats,” she muttered.

  CHAPTER 46

  Tex had announced his intention to organize a barbecue on the Audrey, but luckily his wife and daughter had talked him out of it. Besides, I had to say that the good doctor didn’t look in a fit state to do much of anything right now, let alone organize a barbecue. His skin was red like a tomato, he walked with a pronounced limp, he had red welts on his arm, and he had large big red spots all over his face and neck.

  Mosquito bites, Marge had said. Some kind of allergic reaction.

  “French mosquitoes are vile,” the doctor had said, and judging from the havoc they had wreaked on his person he had a point.

  Instead of a barbecue, Amanda had asked her chef to whip us up something terrific, to celebrate Emily’s return. Even though Amanda wasn’t that young woman’s biggest fan, after the trouble that Sarah—or Kim Jones as her real name turned out to be—had put us all through, I think she was starting to grow on her.

  Harry was over the moon, of course, and so was Emily herself, who seemed to have survived her brief sojourn in the French pokey more or less unscathed. Kim seemed a lot less thrilled, and the same could be said about Eric, but then I guess you can’t win them all over. They would learn to accept Harry’s future bride, and perhaps even like her. She was a likable person, after all. A breath of fresh air for the Griffiths.

  Among Amanda’s guests were Gran and Scarlett, who had also been invited to stay on the Audrey. So you might say it was one big happy family who met on the front deck to have dinner. Brian Johnson was conspicuous in his absence, but his wife was there, looking more radiant than I had ever seen her.

  Divorce clearly became her.

  “So how did you figure it out, Max?” asked Harriet once the food had been brought on deck, and slivers of it had been dispensed to the pets—all five of us.

  “Yeah, Max, how did you know it was Sarah?” asked Frankie.

  “Well, it was actually Dooley who gave me the idea,” I said. “When he mentioned something about Emily being erased from the picture. It reminded me of something Chase told us before we left for France.”

  “Who’s Chase?” asked Frankie, who was happily snacking on a juicy piece of chicken.

  “He’s Odelia’s husband,” said Brutus. “And my human.”

  “Oh, right. So what did Chase say, Max?”

  “He said being undercover is like erasing your own personality and replacing it with a different one. And then there was the fact that Stephanie Gomez seemed convinced that she knew Kim, even though Kimberly said she had never seen her before in her life. It made me wonder if someone on board wasn’t who they said they were. And whether this someone’s name was also Kim. It wasn’t hard to figure out that this someone must be Sarah, since she was the only newcomer. Heather has been friends with Amanda for years, and Chloe has been Eric’s girlfriend for a long time. And since there was no one else in our company who could possibly pass for a Kim, it stood to reason that Sarah Dawson wasn’t who she pretended to be. That she had erased her original personality in order to become this ravishing daughter of a duke.”

  “And all because she wanted to bag a billionaire,” said Harriet with her mouth full. “And she killed three people to get there!”

  “Three people? She killed three people?” asked Frankie.

  “Yeah, she killed a hacker in Hampton Cove,” I said. “Since he could blow her cover after she had him hack Oliver Rose’s phone. And she killed Stephanie Gomez when she recognized her that day.”

  “Tough luck for Mrs. Gomez,” Brutus mumbled.

  “Tough luck indeed,” I agreed. “And finally she killed Daniel Taylor, her ex-husband, and made it look as if Emily did it.”

  “I still wonder how she managed to sneak into Emily’s room,” said Frankie.

  “Easy,” I said. “While the captain was sleeping off his bender, she took his keys, snuck into Emily’s room and put her to sleep by injecting her with a powerful sedative. She had already invited Daniel to come aboard, presumably with the promise they would make up and spend the night together, and so led him to Emily’s cabin. And as she pressed Daniel down on the bed, she planted that knife in his chest, made sure Emily’s fingerprints were on the knife, then snuck out of the cabin, closed the door, and returned the keys.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing,” said Frankie. “Before she did all that she kicked me off the boat!”

  “Yeah, she did that. She couldn’t risk you alerting the rest of the boat by barking up a storm.”

  “I wouldn’t have barked up a storm! In fact I never do. I’m a well-behaved dog, so there was absolutely no reason for her to use violence on my person.”

  “You made a soft landing,” said Harriet.

  “A wet landing,” Frankie grumbled.

  “Well, I’m glad you figured it out, Max,” said Dooley. “Though of course I knew you would. He has a very big brain, you see,” he told Frankie. “Back in Hampton Cove he also figures out stuff all the time.”

  “Max is clever,” said Frankie. “So clever he might figure out if this baby business with Amanda is a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” I said.

  “Yeah, we were worried when Odelia became pregnant,” said Harriet. “But now that Grace is here it’s all good. In fact she’s great. Aren’t you, Gracie?”

  “Yum yum,” said Grace, who sat with us at the kids’ table.

  “So you guys don’t think I should try to, I don’t know, sabotage this whole baby business?” asked Frankie with a note of concern.

  “Never sabotage the baby business would be my advice,” said Brutus. “It will only lead to trouble. Cause there’s one thing you need to know: humans will always favor babies over pets. Every time. So if there’s a choice to be made between you and the baby, you’re gone, baby.”

  “Gone,” said Harriet. “Just like that.”

  Frankie gulped. “But that’s terrible!”

  “It’s human nature,” said Brutus.

  “Can’t blame them for choosing their own kind over us,” said Harriet. “So whatever you do, Frankie: do not rock the boat, you hear?”

  “We rocked the boat in Villeneuve-Loubet, didn’t we, sugar pie?” said Brutus with a grin.

  “Yeah, and look what happened. Tex almost kicked us out.”

  “Tex kicked you out?” said Dooley. “But why?”

  “Oh, it’s a long story,” said Harriet. “And one I’ll tell you some other time. But the moral of the story is this: never kick a man who’s down. He might lash out and ruin a unique opportunity to shine.”

  She seemed a little subdued, I thought. Not her usual exuberant self. But when I glanced over to Brutus for an explanation, he shook his head. Clearly now wasn’t the time to get into all of that.

  “Okay, so how much longer do we have to stay on this boat?” asked Dooley suddenly.

  We all looked at our friend. “Why, Dooley?” I asked. “Don’t you like it here?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s not so bad to be on a boat. It’s actually better than I expected. But to be honest I miss home, you know. I miss our friends. I miss Chase.”

  “Daddy!” said Grace.

  “Yeah, I miss Daddy,” said Dooley with a smile.

  I had the impression Odelia also missed Chase, for she sat chewing her food in a sort of desultory fashion, hardly participating in the conversation, and staring into the distance with a distracted look.

  So maybe Dooley was right. Maybe it was time to go home. Taking a vacation is all fine and dandy, but the best part of the endeavor is the returning home part. Like wearing a pair of shoes that are too tight. What a relief to get them off. Not that I would know, since I never wear shoes. But I think you get my drift.

  “I also want to go home, you guys,” said Grace. “I’ve been stung by mosquitoes so much.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” said Harriet. “Just when you think you’ve finally succeeded in becoming an international diva, you poke the bear and your team will abandon you and you’re back to square one.”

  “What bear would this be, Harriet?” asked Dooley, interested. “And what team?”

  “Never mind,” said Harriet, but she was staring daggers at Tex, so I had the impression he might be the bear. “Let’s just say that this whole holiday experience is way overrated. Plus, French cats can’t sing.”

  “Well, they can sing, but—” Brutus began, but a warning look from Harriet quickly shut him up.

  “I thought it was Tex who got stung by mosquitoes?” Dooley told Grace.

  “Oh, they like me, too,” said Grace. “In fact they love me. I must have the same blood as Grandpa.”

  “That’s probably because he is your grandpa, and you do have the same blood,” said Dooley.

  “Is that a fact?” asked Grace, a little puzzled.

  “Yeah, I saw it on the Discovery Channel. Mosquitoes seem to have a preference for certain people, and part of it has to do with the blood. That’s what they’re after, you see: they want your blood.”

  Grace shivered. “Well, they can’t have mine. I need it myself.”

  We all smiled. “I guess we all like to hang on to our own blood,” I said, “and not share it with a bunch of overzealous pushy bugs.”

  “At least Harriet and Brutus chased the bugs away,” said Grace, “when they started singing with their group.”

  “What group? What singing?” asked Dooley.

  “I said, never mind, Dooley!” Harriet cried.

  But eventually the story about the French chapter of cat choir was revealed, and when Grace told us all the mosquitoes had fled when the cats started singing, we probably shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help it. The tension of these past couple of days had been thus that I guess I needed some release. And so I just laughed and laughed. Until Harriet gave me a poke in the snoot, which is when I stopped laughing.

  Like she said: you can poke the bear, but don’t be surprised when it pokes you back!

  And so our French adventure ended. Before long we were all on a plane home, and being reunited with Chase and Uncle Alec at the airport. It was great seeing our people again, and soon we settled into our old routine. We even paid another visit to that family of beavers so Odelia could finish her article. Oddly enough she wasn’t all that excited about her ‘Interview with a beaver’ as she was before our trip. Oh, well. When you’ve lived with humans as long as I have, you learn to take their peccadilloes in stride. It was only when the next Gazette came out and the front-page article revealed the truth about Kim Jones, aka Sarah Dawson, that I remembered that humans love to read about other humans, not about beavers or even cats.

  The first cat choir after our return was a wonderful affair. We told the story of our trip, our friends filled us in on what we had missed, and a pleasant time was had by all. But when Shanille suggested to Harriet she should have used the opportunity to launch a French chapter of cat choir, our friend first burst into a flood of tears, then flew into a violent rage, and proceeded to chase our conductor all around the park!

  In other words: home sweet home.

  THE END

  You may wonder what Vesta and Scarlett were up to while all this was going on. As luck would have it (or not) their (mis)adventures were recorded in the bonus short story Purrfect Burglar, which you can read for free HERE.

  Thanks for reading! If you liked this book, please share the fun by leaving a REVIEW!

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  ABOUT NIC

  Nic has a background in political science and before being struck by the writing bug worked odd jobs around the world (including but not limited to massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).

  When he’s not writing he enjoys curling up with a good (comic) book, watching British crime dramas, French comedies or Nancy Meyers movies, sampling pastry (apple cake!), pasta and chocolate (preferably the dark variety), twisting himself into a pretzel doing morning yoga, going for a run, and spoiling his big red tomcat Tommy.

  He lives with his wife (and aforementioned cat) in a small village smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere and is probably writing his next ‘Mysteries of Max’ book right now.

  www.nicsaint.com

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