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“Well, like I said it’s possible. Some people know their cars. My husband was like that. He could recognize any car. Make and model and even the year they were built and what engine and all of that nonsense. For me a car is a car.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t help you much, does it, sweetie?”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Odelia, looking slightly disappointed.

“So you still think Dino Wimmer was murdered, do you?”

“It’s a possibility,” said Odelia cautiously.

“No neighbor of ours has ever been murdered before,” said Earl, and gave me a look that seemed to indicate it was entirely my fault that now someone had.

“You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, did you?” I asked.

“I already told those friends of yours,” said the dog. “I didn’t notice nothing, except a big to-do when the police arrived and that ambulance.”

“But before that…”

“Nothing,” he said. “And believe you me, I would have barked the house down if anyone so much had dared enter Mr. Wimmer’s house to murder him.” And then he thrust out his puny chest. “I may not look like much of a guard dog but I will protect my human at all cost, and if a killer had been sneaking around next door, I would have noticed. And you can quote me on that.”

“One more question, Earl,” said Dooley.

“Shoot,” said the little dog.

“Has your human by any chance been getting pictures of a sausage on her phone?”

The conversation more or less wound down after that, and I could tell that our surprise visit hadn’t altered Earl’s view on cats as a nose-scratching species to be watched out for. Only now he seemed to think we were all slightly loony, too.

Chapter 22

Rose Wimmer had decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. She could use the fresh air. She needed to clear her head and consider her options. It was obvious now that Odelia Poole, in spite of her promises, wasn’t going to be able to deliver. So far she hadn’t unearthed anything in the nature of conclusive evidence of her dad’s murder, and Rose had the sneaking suspicion that secretly Miss Poole agreed with the cops that Dad’s death was suicide and not murder.

It was starting to dawn on Rose that she was the only person in the world who believed that her dad had been killed—even Daphne kept giving her a look of pity every time Rose broached the subject.

But she was still absolutely convinced of her case. Dad would never kill himself. He just wouldn’t. No matter what anyone believed, she just knew.

And she’d just kicked an inoffensive pebble when suddenly her phone chimed and she took it out. She frowned as she read the message. It was from an unknown number and it read: ‘I know who killed your dad. Come to the Triple Platinum Gym. Alone.’

Her heart lifted. Finally. A clue. A witness, probably. Or an accomplice of the killer who’d suddenly had a change of heart and was ready to confess. And it was with a spring in her step that she turned on her heel and started walking back to town.

She’d show them. Daphne, the cops, Odelia Poole. She’d show all of them how she’d been right all along and they were wrong.

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Vesta was staring before herself into space, thinking dark thoughts about this so-called investigation Odelia had gotten her involved in.“I don’t get it,” she said. “First she gets all hot and bothered about this case and then she just drops it like a hot brick. What gives?”

Next to her, Scarlett was sipping from a hot beverage which could have been herbal tea. It certainly smelled like herbal tea, the sweet fumes tickling Vesta’s nostrils and provoking a gag reflex. She was one of those people who are allergic to herbal tea of any type or persuasion. “When you say she dropped it you mean she solved the case? So who’s the killer?”

“She didn’t solve it as far as I know, but she hasn’t said a word about it since last night, when we delivered our report.”

“Maybe she’s thinking about the next steps she needs to take,” Scarlett suggested.

“I think we’ve just gotten dumped, Scarlett. That’s what I think is going on here. And I can tell you right now that this is the last time I’m getting sucked into one of Odelia’s investigations. We’re not even getting paid for this stuff.”

“Odelia isn’t getting paid,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Oh, she’s getting paid all right. Getting paid by Dan Goory. So she’s got her bases covered. It’s us who’ve been working our asses off for nothing.” She slammed the table. “But no more. When she asks us to do legwork for her again I’ll tell her she can do it herself.”

“I quite enjoy doing legwork for your grandkid,” said Scarlett. “I’ve never been a detective before and I have to say it’s a lot of fun. You get to talk to people who’d otherwise never give you the time of day, and you get to go places you wouldn’t otherwise be allowed to visit. People let you into their homes—I love it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Vesta glanced across the street and happened to see Rose Wimmer, the girl who’d set this whole thing in motion. “I wonder what she’s up to.”