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Still, Kingman wasn’t the kind of cat who gave up without a fight, and so he resumed his sleuthing. He quickly found himself searching out the company of his own human, Wilbur Vickery, who stood conferring with Father Reilly. Both men were standing right next to the drinks table and were helping themselves to the late Jaqlyn Jones’s liquor stash, casually refilling their glasses without the inconvenience of an officiating waiter. Then again, Father Reilly was probably used to serving himself, and so was Wilbur.

“I don’t believe for one second that Tex killed Jaqlyn,” said Wilbur. “I’ve known Tex for years, and the guy just doesn’t have it in him to commit murder. It takes a special kind of person to kill a man in cold blood, and believe you me, Tex Poole is not that person.”

“Oh, I think you’re absolutely right, Wilbur,” said the priest, slurring his words a little. “But I also think you’re wrong.”

“How do you figure that?” asked Wilbur, whose eyes were distinctly unfocused. “I mean, he either did it or he didn’t do it, if you see what I mean.”

“He did it… and he didn’t do it,” Father Reilly specified, continuing to fog the issue. “Why don’t I explain myself?”

“Please do, father.”

“Tex Poole was a mere instrument of the devil, my dear Wilbur. He didn’t want to kill Jaqlyn, but the devil took possession and made him raise his hand against a fellow man.”

“The devil, eh? Nasty piece of work, that one,” Wilbur concurred.

“He most certainly is. And wily. Extremely wily. And I think it’s plain to see who the real culprit is in this case.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, and both Wilbur and Kingman leaned in. “Omar Carter.”

“Omar Carter?” asked Wilbur, as if hearing that name for the first time.

“Omar Carter,” Father Reilly confirmed.

“Oh, Omar Carter!” said Wilbur.

“One and the same. He and Jaqlyn Jones must have fallen out, and so Omar decided to get rid of him—shut him up before he could spill all of Omar’s dirty little secrets.”

“So…” Wilbur swayed a little, like a willow in the breeze. “So what you’re saying…”

“What I’m saying is that Omar took possession of poor Tex and used him like a tool.”

“Tex Poole, Omar’s tool…”

“Satan never leaves home without donning a disguise, my dear Wilbur. In this case he ever so cunningly disguised himself as the leader of a new cult named Soul Science.”

Wilbur took a long and galvanizing gulp from his glass. Things were getting a little complicated for him.“So… Omar is Satan, who killed Jaqlyn because… why, exactly?”

“Because Jaqlyn had decided to leave the fold. Never leave the fold, Wilbur!”

“Never leave the fold,” Wilbur echoed.

“Leave the fold and die.”

“But I don’t want to die,” Wilbur intimated.

Kingman’s head was swimming. So now Omar was the killer? But how? And why? This was getting trickier and trickier. And he now wished he had one of those notebooks detectives like to carry on their person. If he didn’t write down this abundance of clues and hypotheses he was likely to forget one or twoof the more spectacular ones.

He moved on from his master and his master’s cohort, and decided to take a little break to gather his thoughts and draw some preliminary conclusions. In detective shows the lead detective always gets a brainwave at some point, and tells himself, ‘But of course! Why didn’t I see this sooner!’ This invariably comes on the heels of that crucial moment of personal crisis when he frowns to himself in utter confusion and mutters to his loyal but goofy sidekick, ‘There’s something I’m not seeing. Something I missed…’

Kingman felt he was at the latter stage: he was missing something. He sincerely hoped the final stage would soon be upon him: the lightbulb stage.

And he was sitting and thinking when two men approached. They were both heavyset, with the kind of square and pockmarked faces only a mother could love.

“You shouldn’t have done it, Mike,” said one of the men, addressing his friend.

“How could I have known he was gonna drop dead on us?” said the other reasonably.

“Just don’t tell Francine, will you? She’ll never forgive us.”

“She should thank us.”

“You know what she’s like. Even though the guy was scum, she still stood by him.”

“Something I’ll never understand.”

“Well, she’s finally rid of him.”

“And good riddance, too.”

Suddenly a woman came walking up, and smiled at the sight of the twosome.“Mike and Kenny—you guys still here? I thought you left already.”

“We couldn’t leave now, Francine,” said the man named Mike. “Leaving you to cope with the cops all by yourself? Never.”

“Are the police still out there?” asked Kenny.

Francine nodded, her smile disappearing.“They just took away Jaqlyn’s… body.” She stifled a sob, and Mike took her into a hug, quickly joined by Kenny.

“It’s gonna be all right,” said Mike a little gruffly. “Your big brothers are here for you.”

“What would I do without you guys?” said Francine, sniffling.

“That’s what family is for, little sis,” said Kenny.

Kingman had a hard time controlling the wealth of emotions welling up in his bosom.