0aeaa1e36e6f2e625b6ba8d48f773062

She was staring into a crystal ball, and sitting across from an older woman whom they both recognized as Ida Baumgartner, one of Tex Poole’s most loyal patients. Ida was intently studying a pot of cream, turning it over in her hands.

“Are you sure this will get rid of my rash?”

“Absolutely,” said Solange in melodious tones.

“Mh,” said Ida, clearly not convinced. “So can you tell my husband that his Picasso was stolen but then retrieved? Oh, and also tell him that my sciatica is much improved, no thanks to Dr. Poole, who sometimes seems to think I make up these many medical maladies I’ve been suffering from these last couple of years.” She’d opened the little pot of cream, dabbed a stubby finger in and applied some of it to her face, which was indeed very ruddy-looking, Dooley thought. “It doesn’t smell very nice,” she said critically.

Madame Solange darted a look at Ida that wasn’t all that friendly, Dooley thought, but then maybe that was simply her way.

“So if I understand you correctly your greatest wish in life would be for your husband to return from the dead?” said Solange now.

“Of course I know this is quite impossible,” said Ida primly, rubbing the cream all over her face now. “Though to be quite honest I don’t see why. I mean, they have people frozen and kept on ice until such time as their diseases can be cured, so I keep thinking I should have done the same with my dear, dear Burt.”

“I thought you said he died in a car crash?” asked Solange.

“Yes, he did. But still. Future scientists probably will be able to save his life—not the incompetent fools that worked on him at the hospital.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Well, at least I can talk to him now, through you, Madame Solange, for which I’m eternally grateful to be sure.” She leaned forward. “So has he told you already where he hid that diamond ring he always said he’d buy me?”

Madame Solange’s eyes suddenly glittered—a little mischievously, Dooley thought. “What if I tell you that your husband wants to come back to you, Ida? And what if I tell you that maybe—just maybe—he has found a way to do just that?”

Ida seemed taken aback by this.“Burt? Come back to me? But how?”

“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?” said the fortune teller, and abruptly placed the doily on top of her crystal ball. “That’ll be fifty dollars. And another fifty for the cream.”

And as Ida walked out, looking a little discombobulated, Max took this opportunity to jump up onto the chair the woman had vacated and said,“Can I please have a word with you, Madame Solange?”

Dooley held his breath as he watched Madame Solange slowly glance up at Max, then suddenly she frowned and said,“How did you get in here, you filthy creature? Out!”

And to show them that she meant what she said, she got up and made a sweeping motion in Max’s direction. “Out, I tell you!” she screamed. “I hate cats—hate them!”

And so Dooley and Max took their leave, hurrying out the same way they’d arrived: by slipping through the legs of that burly guard, who still stood chatting to the pretty young woman.

“I don’t think she could understand you, Max,” said Dooley once they’d put some distance between themselves and Madame Solange’s trailer.

“No, I don’t think so either,” said Max, panting from both the exertion and the emotion.

Then they both glanced around.“Um…” said Dooley, “so where is Norm?”

Oh, no! They’d left Norm behind! In the hands of that awful Madame Solange!

Chapter 32

“We can’t just break into her house in broad daylight,” said Scarlett.

“Of course we can,” said Vesta as she glanced across the street at the house in question.

“You seriously want to break into the Mayor’s house right now? When we’ve only just been released from prison for breaking into Town Hall?”

“Look, you don’t have kids, Scarlett, so you don’t understand,” said Vesta. “But I’d do anything to find my son, even if I find him chopped up and stuffed in Charlene’s freezer.”

Scarlett pursed her lips.“Well, if you put it that way…”

They were in Vesta’s little red Peugeot, parked across the street from the Mayor’s house, thinking up ways and means of doing exactly what the neighborhood watch tried to prevent: breaking and entering a house that wasn’t theirs.

“Okay, so why don’t we simply break a window?” Scarlett suggested now.

Vesta slowly turned to her.“Now you’re talking! I like this new and improved Scarlett Canyon.”

Scarlett simpered a little.“I just thought of it. I mean, why make things complicated, right?”

“Exactly! And if we get caught we’ll simply say we’re the neighborhood watch and we were informed burglars were burglarizing Charlene’s house and we got there too late to catch the culprits.”

“Brilliant!”

“I know,” said Vesta, feeling pretty good about her idea herself.