“Even kill your own parents.”

  “I tried to make it look like a burglary. And I think I fooled the police, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” Odelia confirmed. “We all thought a burglar had killed them for the money—or whatever was inside that safe.”

  “Nothing was in the safe except that treasure map. And it was a fake. Or at least Dad thought it was. If only he had known it was real, all of his money problems would have been over. And Frick would have married me, and we would have been happy.”

  “Can you be truly happy with a man who doesn’t love you, though? Who only cares about the money?”

  “I don’t care,” said Anthemia softly. “I just wanted him to love me. But then when I told him I had killed Mom and Dad for him, he went berserk. Said I was crazy and to stay away from him. By then I had already discovered that he was going after the treasure. And so I decided to follow him out there. I was as surprised as anyone to discover that my dad’s treasure map had been real all along.”

  “But not the one you gave me.”

  “No, not the one I gave you. That really was an artist’s rendition. In fact the artist was my mom. She loved creating old maps like that. Made dozens and dozens of them over the years. And my dad proudly put them up on his Instagram.” She sighed. “But the original map—I didn’t think it was real either. Until Frick decided to go look for that treasure.”

  “What made you decide to kill him?”

  Her face tightened. “When I saw him with that new girlfriend of his. She was just like me. Practically a lookalike. Young, vulnerable, and rich. Though of course the rich part wasn’t true in my case. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was going to steal my dad’s treasure. My family’s treasure.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done. I loved my parents. I really did. But when they told me I couldn’t be with Frick, I just lost it. I became so, so mad. All I could think about was how to get rid of them so Frick and I could be together. It became like an obsession. A world without them and with Frick.”

  Odelia placed a hand on her arm. “It’s good that you came clean, Anthemia.”

  The girl nodded. “I just couldn’t live with myself any longer.” She took a deep breath. “I’m glad I told you, Odelia. That I got it off my chest. What’s going to happen now?”

  “Now you’ll be charged with the murder of your parents, and you’ll be brought before a judge who will ask how you plead—guilty, not guilty or no contest. Then he’ll decide about bail and set your trial date. Do you have an attorney?”

  Anthemia shook her head. “Can you help me find one? I don’t have a lot of money.”

  Odelia gave the girl’s hand a squeeze. “Of course I’ll help you. Now get some rest.”

  As she left the girl’s cell, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Which was strange, considering Anthemia had killed three people in cold blood. Still, she felt Anthemia was more a victim than a perpetrator. The victim of Pinkerton’s manipulations. Odelia didn’t doubt for one second that the reason Anthemia had killed her parents was because Frick had whispered it in her ear. Worn down her defenses and made her think it was her own idea.

  Gaslighting in its purest form.

  Just like Max had suspected.

  If anyone deserved a medal for being Hampton Cove’s most active and talented detective, it was her big blorange cat. But then she didn’t think Charlene—or the town council—would go for that.

  It would probably turn Hampton Cove into the laughingstock of Long Island. Heck, the entire state of New York. Or even the country.

  No, Max was Hampton Cove’s secret weapon.

  And that’s how it was going to stay.

  CHAPTER 65

  The day had finally come when Tex could showcase his unique gift for crafting slabs of meat that may or may not be edible. In that sense, he liked to keep everyone in suspense.

  What was also tense was the atmosphere around the table, as Chase still hadn’t fully forgiven Charlene for replacing him as Hampton Cove’s resident detective. Things were still a little touchy in that department, and so Marge had decided to seat Chase on one end of the table and Charlene on the other—so the twain would never meet.

  As it was, she needn’t have worried. Obviously Mick Harper was long gone, albeit not forgotten, and Chase had taken his mother-in-law’s sage advice to forgive and forget to heart. In other words: he was trying to get things back to normal.

  Anthemia had been charged with the murder of her parents—turned out she had inflicted those knife wounds on herself, to throw the police off the scent—and a date for her trial had been set. In the meantime, she had been allowed to go home on bail and was currently trying to sell the house she had lived in and move on with her life, after the devastating mess that meeting Frick Pinkerton had turned it into.

  A new investigation had been launched into the death of Alyssa Pinkerton, Frick’s first wife, and Chase was confident they’d be able to prove that the latter was responsible. Which meant that the man would finally be pegged as a murderer—at least posthumously.

  “I still don’t think it’s fair, Max,” said Harriet.

  “What isn’t?” I asked.

  “That we don’t get to keep the treasure, of course. Imagine what we could do with all of that gold. There was probably millions worth of it on that island. Maybe even more.”

  “Probably billions,” said Brutus, who clearly felt the same way.

  And so did Gran and Scarlett, who had started a lively and spirited discussion with Charlene, whom they blamed for taking the treasure away from them.

  “I just don’t get it,” said Gran. “You don’t own that treasure, Charlene. Nobody does. So it should go to the person who found it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t personally own the treasure,” said Charlene, “but the town of Hampton Cove does, as it was found on its territory. And since local law states that all treasure found in Hampton Cove belongs to the town, there’s nothing I can do about it. But rest assured,” she added when Gran opened her mouth to speak again, “we will use it for the benefit of the community.”

  “Whereas you would have used it for your own personal benefit, wouldn’t you, Ma?” asked Uncle Alec.

  “I would have used it for the good of the community,” said Gran. “I would have bought us a nice big house, and if building a nice big house isn’t for the good of the community, I don’t know what is. It’s supporting the economy!”

  “We’re going to turn Blake’s Field into a park,” said Charlene, trying to appease her in-laws. After the disaster with Mick, she probably felt she had a lot to make up for. “And we’re going to build new schools, lower taxes for everyone—in short, do a lot of good stuff.”

  “I like the part about lowering taxes,” said Uncle Alec, nodding emphatically. “Mostly they go up and then never come down again, so that’s a good thing, right?”

  “Personally, I don’t pay taxes,” said Gran, “so I wouldn’t know about that. But I have to admit, turning Blake’s Field into a park is a good thing.”

  “Do you have the plans yet?” asked Marge, who had been looking forward to the field being developed. Well, everyone on the block had.

  “Not yet,” said Charlene. “We’ve hired the best creative team we could find—all local talent, of course—and we’re expecting a first presentation next week.” She clapped her hands together. “It’s all very exciting, isn’t it?”

  “I still feel that they should have given us a bigger part of the treasure,” said Harriet. “You know, like a proper finder’s fee?”

  “Well, they did,” I pointed out.

  “A stipend!” said Harriet. “A measly sum!”

  She was right. There had been a finder’s fee, but it was nominal. And since it had to be divided between all the people who had been involved in finding the treasure, not a whole lot was left.

  “Has Mick left town?” asked Harriet.

  “He has,” Brutus confirmed. “Kingman saw him leave.”

  “What about Blizzard and Storm?” she asked.

  “Them, too. So it looks like we won’t be seeing them around here anymore.”

  “That’s such a pity,” said Dooley, causing Brutus to give him a surprised look. “They were starting to grow on me. Did you know that Blizzard said I was the most gorgeous cat in all of Hampton Cove?”

  “He said I was the most gorgeous cat in all of Hampton Cove,” said Harriet.

  “He did? I thought he was looking at me when he said it.”

  “No, he was looking at me.”

  “I think he was looking at all of us,” I said. “Though I’m not sure he meant it. He was under the influence when he said it.”

  It was true. Last night, after cat choir was over, and we happened to walk past dog choir’s rehearsal spot, we caught the tail end of what looked like an intimate moment between Minnie Mouse and Blizzard. A chaste kiss—possibly a goodbye. Minnie then gave Storm a peck on the cheek too.

  The two dogs were over the moon, and when they saw us, they became quite lyrical. Shakespeare would have marveled at the sweet nothings that started pouring out of those two huskies.

  “One thing’s for sure,” said Brutus. “Minnie’s going to have her paws full with fifty new housemates.”

  “She didn’t look all that happy last night,” said Harriet.

  “Whether she likes it or not, she doesn’t have much of a choice,” I said. “Though I think she’ll enjoy the new situation.”

  I had chatted briefly with the teacup chihuahua, and she had confessed she was feeling a little nervous about having fifty pugs join her household. But she was also proud of Ida for adopting them.

  “A lot of people think Ida is a little strange,” she had said. “But you have to admit, she has the biggest heart for animals in all of Hampton Cove. Who else would adopt fifty-one dogs?”

  “Where are you all going to live?” I had asked.

  “Oh, Ida will find a way. She says a secret benefactor has decided to gift her an entire house. I’ve seen it and it’s huge, Max—like, gigantic! We’ll be so happy there. It’s going to be just great.”

  I had wondered who this secret benefactor could be, but Minnie hadn’t been able to tell me. Now, as I looked around, I noticed something strange. Charlene was wearing a pug-themed sweater.

  “I didn’t know you liked pugs, Charlene,” said Gran, who must have noticed the same thing.

  “Oh, I absolutely adore them,” said the mayor. “My family had pugs when I was little. I loved them so much I treated them like my little brothers and sisters. But when I went to college, and then law school, and got a job in New York, I just didn’t have time for dogs.”

  “Why didn’t you adopt the Eiderduck pugs?”

  “Fifty pugs?” Charlene laughed. “Even for me, that’s a little too much.”

  “Or for me,” Uncle Alec grunted, taking a swig from his beer. “I love dogs as much as the next guy, but fifty?”

  Charlene smiled. “I did manage to convince Ida to adopt them. I think she’ll do very well.”

  And that’s when I understood. Charlene was the secret benefactor. She couldn’t adopt the pugs herself, but she’d given Ida the means to take care of those dogs who had suffered so much.

  At that moment, Fifi appeared. She was pushing a ball along with her nose and looked up at Harriet expectantly. “Care to join me, Harriet?”

  “Oh, no,” said our friend. “I’m not doing it anymore, Fifi. No more ball-balancing for me, thank you very much. It makes me dizzy!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Fifi, looking disappointed. But then she perked up. “No matter. I’ve already found a new recruit.”

  At that moment Rufus came ambling up. “I’m the new recruit,” he said. He didn’t look all that happy about it. “Fifi is going to teach me.”

  “Consider this your first lesson, Rufus,” said Fifi. “Take the ball and go!”

  And so Rufus tried to take the ball on his nose and start juggling it like a seal.

  Only Rufus is not of the same lithe build as Fifi. So what happened was that he lost his balance and, in trying to maintain the ball, veered in the direction of the garden table.

  “Watch it!” cried Gran.

  But too late. Rufus careened into the table and managed to upset it. Plates flew through the air, the bowl of potato salad followed suit, and if Marge hadn’t managed to pluck it out of the air, it would have landed on the lawn.

  “Please go and play with your ball elsewhere,” said Marge in a firm tone.

  “Yes, Marge. I’m sorry, Marge. It won’t happen again, Marge,” said Rufus ruefully.

  He took the ball between his teeth and then he and Fifi were off, to practice in his own backyard.

  “It’s true, you know,” said Harriet. “I do get nauseous when I balance that ball on my nose. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ve got some kind of disease?”

  “I’m sure a lot of cats get nauseous from balancing balls,” I said. “It’s not in our wheelhouse, after all. And also—why?”

  “Why what?” asked Harriet.

  “Why balance a ball on your nose? What’s the point?”

  I had her there. For a moment, she couldn’t answer. But then she had it. “For fun?” she suggested. “You know, like a game?”

  I didn’t see the fun in this particular game, but then who am I? Just your average kitty in your average home in your average town. Mr. Average, that’s me.

  As we stared holes into the back of Tex’s head while he flipped burgers and prepared our meals, the doorbell rang and Marge went to answer. When she returned, she had a strange look on her face and an envelope in her hand.

  “That was the IRS man,” she announced. “He said it’s come to their attention that we recently came into possession of a sizable legacy. So he’s slapping us with a thirty-percent tax, augmented with a fifty-percent penalty for not declaring it, and gave us ten days to pay.”

  “How much?” asked Gran nervously. She hates the tax man.

  “All of it!” Marge cried. “The entire finder’s fee is going to the IRS! After their cut, there’s nothing left!”

  “Oh well,” said Scarlett. “At least I got my hair done, my nails fixed, my cleavage touched up, my jawline sharpened, and a fresh round of Botox and fillers. So there goes my finder’s fee—nothing left to pay the IRS!”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Scarlett,” said Charlene.

  “It doesn’t? But it’s all gone!”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ll still have to pay.”

  Scarlett paused, then shrugged with a smile. “Well then. I guess we’ll just have to hunt for a different treasure, won’t we?”

  The collective cry of ‘No way!’ was so loud, it echoed across the neighborhood and beyond.

  Looked like our treasure-hunting days were over.

  At least for now.

  PROLOGUE

  An exhausted Tex Poole met an equally exhausted Ted Trapper by the hedge that separated their respective backyards.

  “Burn it,” Ted suggested, struggling to keep his eyes open. Tex saw dark rings under his neighbor’s eyes, and his skin had the sallow tone of a man at the end of his rope.

  “She’ll just buy another copy,” said Tex.

  “Then we’ll burn that one.”

  “It’s the digital age, Ted. It’s on her Kindle.”

  “Then destroy the Kindle. Do something, Tex. I’m begging you, man. I can’t take this anymore. It’s every morning, every lunch hour, every night—all night. If this goes on, I won’t survive.”

  Tex felt much the same. For a while there he’d put all of his hope on Dick Bernstein’s secret concoction, but oddly enough Marge hadn’t enjoyed the smell of the stuff. Said it put her off. And so he’d had to abandon the scheme, even though he had to admit it had given him plenty of pep. Also a red rash on his chest, but that was a price he’d been willing to pay.

  He thought for a moment. “We could burn every copy, destroy the Kindles, and erase the PDF from the computer.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Ted, perking up considerably. “Let’s do it tonight.”

  And so it was decided. Tex would break into Ted’s house to dispose of the wretched book, while Ted broke into Tex’s home to dispose of the same wretched book.

  Late that night, a dark-clad figure broke into the home of Tex and Marge Poole, grabbed a book from Marge’s nightstand—as well as her Kindle—and vanished into the night.

  Half an hour later, another dark-clad figure broke into the home of Ted and Marcie Trapper, and a similar scene played out.

  A full moon lit up the nocturnal pantheon of stars, and the chickens, rabbits, mice, shrews and other wildlife of Blake’s Field watched with fascination as the two black-clad figures met by the old shack, shook hands, and congratulated each other on a mission well executed.

  A fire was lit, and the animal population watched as it burned bright, the flickering flames reflected in their eyes, looking on in wonder at what these humans were up to.

  Then the men held up the books and the Kindles, and dropped them into the blaze.

  They stood back, satisfied, then shook hands once more and quickly returned home.

  After they left, the animals still sat, fascinated by the heat devouring these strange items.

  One of the braver rabbits hopped up to the improvised fire pit to inspect the remnants.

  A half-charred book dropped at his feet, a burst of embers momentarily scaring him off.

  Screwing his courage up to the sticking point, he carefully inched forward once more.

  His nose twitched as his beady eyes eagerly deciphered the title of the hefty tome.

  It read: One Hundred Tips for a Happy Time Between the Sheets by Bunnie Lovewell.

  THE END

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