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“Oh, she’ll never go and do a silly thing like that,” said Odelia. “She’s got the luck of the drunk, even though she doesn’t drink.”

Finally they were back where they started: at Casa Flake, and to Odelia’s elation Gran’s car was idling in front of the gate. In spite of her words she’d worried that Chase’s predictions might have come true and that she’d find Gran’s car wrapped around some indignant tree.

They parked right behind Gran and got out. The old lady was already yelling into the intercom.“Open this gate right now, you shit-for-brains, or I’ll come down there and personally rearrange your face!” she was shouting. “Oh, and my cop grandson just arrived and he’s going to arrest you and kick your sorry ass into his deepest, darkest dungeon and throw away the key!” she added when she caught sight of Odelia and Chase bearing down on her.

“Don’t bother,” said Odelia. “They won’t let you in.”

“They have to, or by golly I’ll smite this gate and bring it down!” she said, shaking an irate fist.

And then, suddenly, as if her threats had worked, the gate swung open!

“Glad to see you’re back, Kingsley!” a cheerful voice sounded from the intercom. “Forget something, did you?”

“Thanks, buddy!” Chase shouted back.

Apparently whoever had been manning the booth before had now been replaced by Chase’s friend, the head of security at the place.

Gran directed her car along the long and winding drive, followed by Odelia and Chase.

“Why are we back here?” asked Chase.

“Um, I have no idea,” Odelia confessed. She probably should have asked her grandmother that exact question. Only the moment the gate had swung open Gran had jumped into her car and hared off at the speed of light.

Now she screeched to a halt in front of the house and hopped out, followed by none other than Harriet and Brutus!

“What’s the big plan here, Gran?” asked Odelia, also getting out.

“The big plan is to look for Max,” said Gran, “and to find out what really happened to this fashion bozo.”

“We already looked for Max,” said Odelia. “He’s not here. And as far as the big fashion bozo is concerned, the guy who killed him is in jail right now.”

“Yeah, you don’t really think that poor guy had anything to do with this, do you?”

“Actually, I do,” said Chase. “Not only did he kill his partner, but he practically confessed, and that’s good enough for me, good enough for your son, and I’m willing to bet it’s good enough for a judge and a jury of the guy’s peers.”

“Well, I don’t buy it,” said Gran.

“Why am I not surprised?” said Chase, throwing up his hands.

“We’ll stay here and look for Max, shall we?” Harriet suggested, but Gran was already marching up to the house.

“Yeah, you do that,” said Odelia, and went after her grandmother before she got shot or, worse, punched someone in the face and accused them of murder.

“Odelia, we shouldn’t be out here,” said Chase. “We’re trespassing on private property.”

“We were invited, remember?” she said.

“Yeah, but that’s only because the guard likes your face.”

“Likes your face, you mean.”

“Also a possibility,” Chase admitted. “Still, we’re not supposed to be here, and…”

But whatever he’d been about to say would have to wait, for the front door flew open and the lady of the house appeared, seated in her wheelchair, and accompanied by a sturdily-built female nurse with an expressionless face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mrs. Flake asked.

“You’re hiding something, and I’m here to find out what it is,” said Gran, throwing down the gauntlet.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the old lady who, if she was shocked by this accusation, didn’t show it.

“Oh, I know you tried to take over your son’s company,” said Gran. “And each time he managed to get you off his back. But you wouldn’t give up, would you? And now you finally achieved what you set out to do. You’re in charge now, and you’re going to run it straight into the ground!”

“Who are you?” asked the woman.

“My name is Vesta Muffin and I’m a private dick!” said Gran, planting both feet on the ground and her hands on her hips.

“She’s not a private detective, Leonora,” spoke a voice behind the woman. Chris Cross had arrived on the scene. Oddly enough he was rubbing his head, as if he’d bumped it against something, and of his cat there was no sign.

“I am, too,” Gran insisted.

“No, you’re not. You’re a receptionist at your son-in-law’s doctor’s office and that’s all you are. Even your granddaughter is not a private detective but a reporter, though sometimes she likes to pretend that she’s a PI.”

“At any rate I’m a cop,” said Chase, displaying his badge, “and if you don’t mind, can you please answer Mrs. Muffin’s questions?”

Cross closed his mouth with a click of the teeth, then said,“You don’t have to do this, Leonora. You don’t have to say a word to these people.”

“It’s all right, Chris. I have nothing to hide from this old woman.”

“Look who’s talking, Mother Time,” said Gran.