“Um…”

  “I’ll start,” she said. “When I grow up I want to be a singer. Like Celine Dion. And tour the world with my band, and play in big arenas for thousands of people. I think I’m an entertainer at heart, and I think people would pay good money to watch me perform. Your turn, Brutus. What do you want to be?”

  “Uh…” said Brutus, who clearly had never given this a moment’s thought. “I guess… I could come and watch your show?” he said tentatively.

  She slapped him on the paw. “That’s not a job, silly. You could do my backing vocals, though. All good artists have people to do their backing vocals and you could do mine. That way we get to travel together on my tour bus and fly around the world on my jet.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” said Brutus, scratching his nose. He didn’t seem overly excited about the prospect of singing backing vocals. Not for Harriet or anyone else.

  Odelia had swerved out of the garage and was now cruising along the highway.

  “What about you, Max?” asked Harriet, who clearly loved this game. “What is your greatest passion?”

  “Well, I love to eat,” said Max. “Especially now, being safe and sound and on my way home, I suddenly feel very hungry.”

  Harriet grimaced. “Max, you’re not paying attention. We’re talking about the kind of work we want to do when we grow up. A job that is aligned with your greatest passion.”

  “But I’m already grown up,” said Max, “and so are you, Harriet. And since we’re cats and not humans we don’t need a job. We have humans looking after us, and providing us with food and shelter and love and affection. The only job I see myself conceivably getting passionate about is helping Odelia solve the occasional mystery, which I already do now. But apart from that I don’t have a job, I don’t need a job, and I don’t want a job.”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Max,” said Harriet, making a face. “I thought you were a cat who was going places, like me and Brutus. But instead you’re simply another deadbeat. Shame on you.” She now turned to Dooley. “What about you, Dooley? And don’t tell me your ambition in life is to eat, too.”

  “Oh, no,” said Dooley. “I also like to drink. It’s very important to stay hydrated. And sleep, of course. It’s very important to get plenty of rest.”

  “Oh, Dooley,”’ said Harriet with a shake of the head. “Looks like you’ve got two deadbeats on your team, Odelia. I’d say cut them loose and replace them with cats that show some spunk. A sense of initiative. But I know what you’re going to say: you can’t simply kick out Max and Dooley. And you’re probably right, from a charitable point of view, but at least try to talk some sense into them. Try to make them see that there’s more to life than eating, sleeping and drinking, will you? Because frankly it’s frustrating for two ambitious cats like myself and Brutus to have to deal with this nonsense.”

  And after this long harangue, she lapsed into silence, causing Odelia to smile before herself and wisely keep her tongue.

  16

  “How much longer is it, Jer?”

  Jerry checked his watch. “Well, the party starts at nine. The show starts with a performance by some unknown local artists, and The Dieber and Jamie Borowiak are scheduled to perform at eleven, so that’s when we’re going to hit their rooms.”

  “Are you sure the coast will be clear? What about security?”

  “I told you a hundred times already—security will be downstairs, protecting the stars, not their rooms.”

  “And how do you know all this, Jer?” asked Johnny, looking slightly mollified.

  “Let’s just say a little birdie told me. And that same little birdie also told me we can expect a very nice haul. A very nice haul indeed,” he added with a wide grin.

  “I’ll bet that little birdie wants a cut of that haul, though, right?”

  “Little birdies always want a cut of the haul, Johnny. You know that.”

  Johnny was shaking his head again, looking anxious. “I have a bad feeling about this, Jer. And the last time I had a bad feeling about a job and we went ahead and did it anyway, I almost got shot and we both spent the rest of the month in the slammer.”

  “You won’t spend a minute in the slammer this time,” said Jerry, patting his friend on the back. “I’ve got it all worked out. There isn’t a contingency I haven’t considered, and no risk that I haven’t eradicated. This is the most lucrative, easiest job we’ll ever pull, buddy. Just you wait and see.”

  “I don’t know, Jer,” said Johnny, looking particularly dubious.

  “Well, I do, so just trust me and get ready to rake in the dough.”

  Jerry settled back as he thought about this dough they were about to rake in. It wasn’t every day they were hitting several multi-millionaires in one go. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Walk in, collect the loot, and walk out. Easy peasy. He smiled as he thought about it. This was going to be the most laid-back job they’d ever pulled!

  He thought about his ex-wife Marlene. If he offered her a couple of diamond rings, a few necklaces, and one or two priceless bracelets, she might consider taking him back. And it was with a head filled with roseate hopes and dreams that he crossed his arms, dropped his chin on his chest, and dozed off.

  When Tex arrived home, he was surprised by the terrible racket rising up from the basement. It almost sounded like… a party. In his own basement!

  So he set foot on the first step, and quickly descended the stairs. Much to his surprise about half a dozen senior citizens of the male persuasion stood gathered around Vesta, shooting the breeze, glasses of what looked like bubbly in their hands.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked, a frown on his brow. Vesta, who seemed to be the center of attention, greeted him by raising the glass of bubbly in her own hand.

  “Great news, Tex,” she said. “I’ve been selected as a last-minute addition to the show.”

  “Show? What show?”

  “Some shindig for a couple of the Mayor’s buddies. Plenty of bigwigs and celebs.”

  “You mean the Charlie Dieber thing? But I’m playing that—with my band.”

  “I know. What a coincidence, huh? We’re sharing the stage. Marge will be so thrilled. She’s always going on and on about the two of us being buddies, and now we’ll be able to give her a show from the same stage.” She held up her finger. “Hey. I just got an idea. Why don’t we sing a duet, you and me? Our bands can join us, yours and mine.”

  “But… you’re part of my band!”

  “Not anymore I’m not. Didn’t you get the memo? I’m going solo—with my own band.” And she gestured to the elderly men, who all stood nodding enthusiastically. And since all of them were Tex’s patients he couldn’t even freak out in front of them.

  “But, but, but…” he sputtered.

  “All this singing I’ve done for your Singing Doctors have given me a taste for the stage. I’m the kind of woman who craves the limelight. I need to be center stage, not tucked away somewhere in the back going Ooh-wah doopee dooh. I’m a star, not a minion.”

  “It was my idea actually, Tex,” said one of the men whom Tex recognized as Dick Bernstein. He was a distinguished-looking gentleman, with a full head of neatly coiffed white hair and a gorgeous little mustache. He was dressed, like the other pensioners, in a nice white tux. “Talent has to shine, and supreme talent must shine supremely.” He directed an affectionate look at Vesta, who patted his cheek appreciatively.

  “Yeah, Vesta’s talent is so vast Dick told her to go solo,” added a second gentleman. This was Rock Horowitz, also one of Gran’s friends, and possibly an old boyfriend, too.

  The others now all murmured their assent. “Vesta was made for the stage,” another older gentleman agreed. “She has the voice, the presence, the looks. She’s a born star.”

  “He’s right, you know,” said Dick. “Vesta was born a star, and it’s a surprise to me why she waited this long to shine.”

  “No hard feelings, Tex?” asked Vesta. “I’m sure you’ll find some other ninny to sing backing vocals for you. After all, anyone can be a backing vocalist. Not everyone can be the star of the show like me.”

  “But… what are you going to sing?” asked Tex, still recovering from the shock.

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry your little head about that,” said Vesta with a dismissive gesture of the hand. “You just focus on your stuff and I’ll focus on mine.”

  “With all due respect, Vesta,” said Rock. “I think this idea of you and Tex performing a duet is a dud.”

  “I agree,” said Dick, actually twirling his mustache. “A star like you needs to be discerning. I’m sorry to have to say this, Tex, but you and your singing doctors suck.”

  “I didn’t want to say it, Tex, but Dick is right,” said Vesta. “You’re simply not good enough yet. Maybe you should practice a little more before you go on stage again.”

  “Not everyone is a natural like Vesta,” Rock agreed.

  “If you perform a duet now you’ll only drag her down,” said Dick.

  “And you don’t want to drag down a real star, do you, Tex?”

  “Do you, Tex?”

  “Um… no, I guess not,” said Tex, his head spinning a little at this turn of events.

  “Great,” said Dick, giving him a thousand-watt smile, his gleaming white teeth practically blinding Tex.

  “Excellent,” Rock agreed.

  “See? What did I tell you, Vesta?” said Dick. “I told you Tex would see reason.”

  “Yeah, I told you he’d let you go once he realized how talented you were.”

  “Thanks, Tex,” said Vesta now, giving Tex a cursory hug. “I know it’s hard for you to let me go, but I need to spread my wings and fly. And now buzz off, will ya? I need to practice.” And she raised her glass of Tex’s best champagne to her lips and drained it.

  As Tex stumbled out of the basement he felt a little sandbagged. Had he just witnessed one of those A Star is Born moments? Was his mother-in-law going to be the Lady Gaga in this story and Rock and Dick her Bradley Coopers? Hard to believe.

  17

  “What do you mean we can’t come near them?” asked Odelia.

  She was in her uncle’s office, discussing the case with the Chief and Chase, and the Chief had just dropped a bombshell.

  “We can’t talk to them,” said Uncle Alec, fiddling with an empty pack of cigarettes. “At least not until after the show tonight.”

  “The Mayor’s orders,” said Chase, looking as annoyed as his superior officer. “He doesn’t want his guests of honor bothered over this murder business.”

  “But… we have to talk to them. Jamie is a suspect, and so are Weskit and his wife.”

  “I’m sorry,” the Chief grumbled, clearly displeased. “My hands are tied.”

  “So are mine,” said Chase.

  “Well, mine aren’t,” said Odelia. “And I’m going to talk to these people.”

  “Odelia, don’t,” said her uncle. “The Mayor isn’t going to be happy if he finds out you disobeyed a direct order.”

  “I don’t work for the Mayor! He doesn’t get to order me around.”

  “Fine,” said Uncle Alec. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If he hears about this, he’ll—”

  “He’ll do what? He can’t do a thing about it. Not a thing.”

  “He can talk to Dan, and he can lean on him. Make your life difficult.”

  “Why is this so important anyway? Who is this Laron person to the Mayor?”

  “The Mayor is giving Charlie Dieber the keys to the city. He’s hoping it will attract a lot of attention. The kind of attention a town that caters to the tourist crowd wants. And poking around and trying to associate Charlie and his girlfriend, or indeed the Weskits, with Chickie Hay’s murder is bad for business. So he wants the investigation conducted quietly. Discreetly. And most of all he doesn’t want Charlie being interrogated by the police on the night he’s being awarded the keys to the city from the hands of the Mayor.”

  “Fine,” said Odelia, rolling her eyes. “So all we have to do is wait until tomorrow and we’re in the clear?” She didn’t want to cause trouble for her uncle and Chase, or indeed Dan. And it wasn’t as if the Weskits or Charlie and Jamie would skip town all of a sudden. They were all famous figures and famous figures have a much harder time laying low.

  “Oh, sure. Tomorrow we can interview them as much as we want. Just not tonight.”

  “Okay, then. So where are we so far?” asked Chase, giving Odelia a wink.

  “Not very far,” said the Chief. “We talked to everyone involved, except the foursome currently holed up at the Hampton Cove Star, and we’re not much the wiser for it.”

  “We did make an arrest,” Chase reminded him. “We have young Olaf behind bars.”

  “Pretty sure young Olaf is innocent,” grumbled Odelia’s uncle. “I spent two hours grilling the kid and nothing. My gut feeling is that he’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “So let’s list them up,” said Odelia. “Tyson was being paid by Laron Weskit to spy on Chickie. Find out what record companies she was talking to.”

  “But would he kill her over that?” asked Chase. “Not likely. Tyson is a security guy, taking money from Weskit, but he had no motive whatsoever to murder Chickie.”

  “He did say she could be tough to work for.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean he was going to kill her,” the Chief pointed out.

  “No, you’re right. It takes a lot more than being a demanding employer to make people want to wring your neck,” said Odelia. “So who else do we have?”

  “I made a list of all the people on staff,” said Uncle Alec, tapping a piece of paper on his desk. “These are the people who were in the house at the time of the murder, and so all of them could theoretically have killed Chickie.”

  “Long list?” asked Odelia.

  “Too long,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “Cooks, maids, security, gardener, assistants… About a dozen people in all.”

  “This is a nightmare. Plenty of suspects but nothing conclusive. And no witnesses.”

  “As I said, though, not much of a motive,” said Chase. “These people might not have liked their employer, but there’s not a single one among them with a criminal record.”

  “What about the family?”

  “Only the mother and the sister were at the house this morning,” said Uncle Alec.

  “Motive?”

  “Not one that I can see,” said Chase. “Both mother and sister were dependent on Chickie’s success. With her gone, the goose that lays the golden eggs is also gone, and even though they probably stand to inherit a fortune, that money will run out.”

  “Her death is likely to generate an enormous income stream, though,” said Odelia.

  “In the short term, yes, but not in the long run. And why would Yuki kill her own daughter? Or Nickie kill her sister? I don’t see a motive, do you?”

  Odelia shook her head. She didn’t see a motive there, either.

  “Moving on, we have Jamie Borowiak. And we have Shannon Weskit.”

  “Both have motive and Jamie definitely had opportunity. She was there that morning, and could have come back. And Shannon Weskit could have snuck in unseen.”

  “Apparently anyone could have snuck in unseen,” Uncle Alec grumbled.

  “What about the coroner’s report?” asked Odelia. “Anything that stands out?”

  “Nothing,” said the Chief, sagging a little. “No fingerprints, no DNA—at least not so far. Almost as if our mystery killer is a ghost.” He sighed. “Where are the days when a killer would leave a nice footprint right outside the window? Or a set of fingerprints?”

  “All the bad guys watch CSI nowadays,” said Chase.

  Odelia and Chase got up as if on cue. “I need to start working on my article,” she said.

  “Are your cats all right?” asked Chase.

  “Oh, yes, they’re fine. A little shook up, but nothing a bowl of kibble won’t fix.”

  “They didn’t find anything either, I assume?” asked Uncle Alec.

  “Apart from that clue about Jamie and the fact that the bodyguard was in touch with Laron Weskit, nothing so far,” she admitted.

  “Well, at least it’s more than what we found,” said Chase.

  “Tell them to keep digging,” said Uncle Alec. “They’ve come through for us before, and I have a feeling we’re going to need every helping paw we can get.” He laughed at his own joke. “Get it? Lend a helping paw?” When no laughter ensued, he shook his grizzled head. “Kids these days. No sense of humor.”

  18

  Odelia had dropped us off at the house before racing off again, and frankly I was happy to be home. This sleuthing business can be fun, but today it had taken a lot out of me, and I couldn’t really be bothered to find out who had killed whom, to be honest.

  The first thing I did was eat my fill, then I proceeded to this week’s favorite spot, and as I made myself comfortable on the windowsill, which offers a great view of what goes on out in the street, I heaved a contented sigh and finally started to feel like myself again.

  Dooley had joined me—plenty of space on the sill—and was smiling benignly.

  “Maybe our purpose in life is simply to nap, Max,” he said now.

  “You know what, Dooley? I think you’re absolutely right. I mean, some individuals are born to be presidents and leaders of nations, while others, like us, are simply born to nap. And frankly I’m absolutely okay with that. It’s a fate I’m completely at peace with.”

  “Me, too,” Dooley said, and my eyes were already starting to drift closed.

  “Hey, you guys!” suddenly a shrill voice sounded from the floor. I made the effort to shift my gaze to that particular spot and saw that Harriet and Brutus were among us once more.

  “Hey, Harriet,” I muttered. “What’s up?” Not that I was dying to know, but even though my purpose in life may be to raise the art of napping to new and greater heights, that still leaves me with a basic respect for the niceties of social interaction.