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“We talked to Buster,” Brutus gently corrected her.

“Whatever,” she said. “He told us that this dead banker Odelia and Chase discovered last night was actually murdered? And now Odelia is trying to figure out who did it? Is this true? And if it is, why wasn’t I informed?”

“Why weren’twe informed,” Brutus interjected.

“Whatever! I want some answers and I want them now!”

“Well, Odelia is investigating the murder of Dino Wimmer,” I said, “and she has asked us to tag along and find out what we can. And the reason she hasn’t asked you is probably because she didn’t happen to bump into you the way she bumped into us.”

“You mean she didn’t purposely neglect to inform me?” asked Harriet, only slightly appeased by my explanation.

“No, she most certainly didn’t set out to exclude you from her investigation,” I said. “In fact I’m sure she’ll be very happy if you could join us in finding out what happened. From what I understand she can use all the help she can get, as the police are treating the death of Dino Wimmer as a suicide, and are not going to investigate.”

“I don’t get it,” said Harriet with a frown. “The police aren’t investigating a murder?”

“They are satisfied that Dino killed himself,” I said. “The only reason Odelia is investigating this is because Dino’s daughter Rose asked her to. If not for Rose nobody would be looking into the death of her dad.”

“What a mess,” said Harriet, nicely summing things up. “So what have you discovered so far, Max?”

“Nothing much,” I had to admit. “Apart from some strange theory suggested by Kingman, and Tex indicating that the man was happy and unlikely to have taken his own life. Oh, and Odelia recruited Gran and Scarlett to assist her in the investigation.”

“Gran and Scarlett!” said Harriet, her indignation over being excluded once again rearing its ugly head. “Why this is simply too much. When I see Odelia I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”

“Of my mind, too,” Brutus added.

“Where is she?”

“Gran?”

“Odelia!”

“She went off in that direction,” I said, gesturing down the street, “and Gran was going to canvass the neighborhood where Dino Wimmer lived.”

“Come on, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” asked her boyfriend.

“Wherever!” Harriet said, and stalked off in high dudgeon.

Brutus heaved the sigh of a much-put-upon boyfriend, then turned on his heel and went off in pursuit of the wannabe cat sleuth Persian.

“You forgot to tell them about Dick’s sausage,” said Dooley as we stared after the duo.

“I don’t think that’s relevant right now, Dooley,” I said.

“Oh, I think it’s very relevant,” said my friend. “In fact I think the clue to this whole mystery lies with that sausage.”

“Of course it does,” I said, and then we, too, set off to investigate this matter further.

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“Could we have a word, please, Mrs. Wimmer?” said Scarlett.

The woman eyed them a little annoyedly.“I’m sorry, but I’m not a religious person. You’ll have to excuse me.” And she made to close the door on them.

Luckily Vesta had the good sense to place her foot in the door and block it from closing.

Mrs. Wimmer stared from that foot to Vesta’s face and looked on the verge of giving Vesta a piece of her mind, and not in a good way, when Vesta said, “I’m Odelia Poole’s grandmother. She’s asked us to look into the death of your husband, Dino Wimmer?”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Wimmer, and frowned. “I don’t understand. Why is Miss Poole looking into the death of my husband?”

“Your daughter asked her to,” said Vesta simply.

A look of concern came over the woman’s face. “Rose asked her to investigate Dino’s death? But why?”

“She thinks your husband was murdered, Mrs. Wimmer. In fact she’s so sure of herself that she’s willing to pay top dollar for Odelia’s services.”

“But… I thought Miss Poole was a reporter?”

“She is, but she dabbles in crime solving from time to time.”

“With great success, too,” added Scarlett.

“She does, does she? Well, I guess you better come in. We can’t very well discuss this standing out here in the middle of the street.” She glanced over to where her neighbor was intently looking in their direction, holding an equally fascinated Earl in her arms.

Once inside, Mrs. Wimmer took them straight through to the living room, which was cozily appointed in hues of beige and lime green, with plenty of light streaming in through a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto a sizable backyard. A swing stood erect but a little weathered, testament to a time when Rose had been much younger.

“Rose isn’t home,” Mrs. Wimmer said. “She’s at school. So if you came to talk to her, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

“No, we actually wanted to talk to you,” said Vesta.

“This is all very unusual,” said Mrs. Wimmer with a nervous little laugh. “My daughter hiring private detectives. I really don’t know where she gets this idea. I can assure you the police have looked into the matter and they’re satisfied that his death was a suicide. I even received a telephone call from the chief of police confirming this.”