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“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Chase, looking amused.

“Forget what?” she asked, her mind now occupied by all that she’d read on Leonidas Flake. The man had lived a full life, that much was obvious. Born in Paris, France, he’d launched himself as a contender in the fashion trade in the sixties. He’d worked for several of the big fashion houses before establishing his own brand, which had made him a household name over the course of the six decades he’d been in the business. Now everyone the world over, from the cognoscenti to the non-cognoscenti, was aware of the name Leonidas Flake. A name that brought to mind gorgeous haute couture,but also couture designed for the masses, in his pr?t-?-porter collections and collaborations with some of the major clothing retailers like Gap, Banana Republic, J. Crew and H&M.

“Weren’t you planning on taking your cats along?” asked Chase now.

She frowned at him, then glanced over her shoulder.“Oh, God,” she said, suddenly mortified. “I forgot my cats!”

“That’s what I figured.”

Immediately she performed a U-turn and before long was right back where she started. She cut the engine but before she could jump from the vehicle, Chase had already beaten her to the punch.

“I’ll get them,” he said.

She shook her head in dismay. What was wrong with her? She’d never ever forgotten her cats before. Never. Her excuse, of course, was that she’d been so busy thinking about the case her uncle had landed in her lap that she’d totally forgotten about her little dears. As she glanced over, she saw them walking out of the house, single file, right behindChase. They didn’t look happy. In fact Max was giving her an accusatory look that she absolutely deserved.

They hopped into the car without a word, then sat silently staring before them, not deigning her a single glance.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” she tried. “I was so wrapped up in this Leonidas business that I completely forgot. I’m so, so sorry, you guys.”

“We can forgive you, Odelia,” finally spoke Harriet, “but we’ll never forget.”

Her words elicited a snicker from Brutus, but the nasty glance she gave him quickly shut him up.

“What do you mean?” Odelia asked.

“It means we’re insulted,” said Harriet. “And a cat never forgets.”

“I think that’s elephants, though,” said Max.

“Cats, too,” said Dooley. “We have a mind like a steel trap.”

“That’s elephants,” Max insisted. “Elephants never forget a face, or if someone stepped on their toe at some point. They will take revenge, even if years have passed since the toe-stepping incident.”

“How can someone step on an elephant’s toes?” said Brutus. “Have you seen an elephant’s foot? He doesn’t even have toes.”

“An elephant does have toes,” Max insisted stubbornly, “and if you step on them he’ll never forget your face, and the first chance he gets, even if a hundred years have passed, he’ll step right back on your toes. Quid pro quo.”

“Quit what?” asked Brutus.

“If an elephant stepped on my toes I’d be flat as a pancake,” said Harriet.

“I’m sure it’s not elephants but cats that never forget a face,” said Dooley. “It was on the Discovery Channel.”

“Oh, my God!” said Harriet. “Will you shut up about the Discovery Channel for one minute!”

Odelia turned back to face the front, put the car in gear, and soon they were tootling along the road in perfect silence, apart from Dooley’s occasional mutterings about elephants and things he’d seen on the Discovery Channel.

They made good time, and before long had left Hampton Cove behind and were driving along the coast, where all the billionaires lived—and the occasional millionaire who got lost when looking to land a house deal. This was celebrity land, with more celebrities living in close proximity than in probably any other place in the country, except, of course, Beverly Hills or Malibu, where celebrities tend to spring up like a rash, ora fungoid growth.

“Nice houses,” said Chase finally as they passed million-dollar home after million-dollar home. Not that there was a lot to see, as billionaires are notoriously shy, and don’t like to show their faces or even their million-dollar dwellings, except in the form of an exclusive spread inArchitectural Digest.

“I wouldn’t mind living here,” said Harriet as she stared out the window.

“I would,” said Max, surprisingly. “I like my home just the way it is.”

“Small, you mean?” asked Harriet.

“Cozy,” he countered. “These McMansions are so gigantic you can spend days wandering around without meeting a single soul. You could probably get lost and only be found when there’s nothing left of you but a rotting carcass.”

“Aren’t we in a sunny mood?” said Brutus.

“Just a passing thought,” said Max.

“You exaggerate, Max,” said Harriet, who liked her celebrities.