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We were in a nice-looking suite, with separate bedroom, living space and bathroom. The dog was in the bedroom, lying on a four-poster bed and looking sadly at a picture of his mistress that stood perched on the nightstand.

The wiry-looking man with the tan face, meanwhile, muttered something about morons and slammed the door shut. He never even saw us, the doofus.

“Hey there,” I said as I jumped up on the bed.

“Hey yourself,” said Stevie, wiping away a tear. To my surprise, Stevie was a she, and not a he. A tawny-colored Brussels Griffon with a well-groomed mustache and beard and looking at me with intelligent eyes.

“Hi,” said Dooley, now also jumping up on the bed and joining us.

“Hey,” said the Ewok lookalike.

“We’re detectives,” I said by way of introduction, “and we’re investigating the possible murder of your mistress Kimberlee.”

Stevie uttered a stifled sob at this.“Kimberlee. Oh, how I’m going to miss her.” She directed a sad look at the framed picture and burst into tears.

“We’re very sorry for your loss, by the way,” said Dooley. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose your human like that.”

She gave Dooley an appreciative look.“Thanks,” she said softly.

I hadn’t even thought of offering my condolences. Instead I’d just barged in and was about to launch into a barrage of questions. Rude. Rude and tactless.

“She was a wonderful person,” said Stevie. “The best. Hard to believe she would do this to herself. She had so much to live for. This is a sad, sad day.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, seeing my opening. “We think she may not have done this to herself. We think she may have been murdered. And we were hoping you could help us figure out who killed her.”

“You were there, right?” said Dooley.

“I was,” said Stevie sadly. “I was there until the bitter end.”

“So can you tell us a little bit about what happened?” I asked.

“There’s not much to tell. I was in the next room, napping and dreaming of rabbits.”

“Do dogs often dream of rabbits?” asked Dooley, interested.

“Not now, Dooley,” I said.

“So I was lying in my basket, dreaming of rabbits and birds.”

“Birds?” asked Dooley. “That’s a coincidence. I dream of birds, too. Like, every night. And sometimes during the day, too. What kind of birds?”

“Dooley,” I said warningly.

“So I was lying in my basket, dreaming of rabbits and birds and cats—”

Dooley opened his mouth to say something, but he caught my eye and shut up.

“Carry on,” I said kindly. “You dreamed of rabbits and birds and cats and then what happened?”

“Well, then Kimberlee had a visitor. I didn’t hear them come in, only woke up when I heard voices. They were chatting about this and that—I didn’t really pay attention. Humans are always gabbing on and on and you kinda lose interest after a while.” She sniffed. “If only I’d paid more attention, she might still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, you can’t think that way,” said Dooley.

“So they talked and then this person left, cause they stopped talking, and then there was a strange noise. Like steam escaping from a kettle. And when curiosity overcame my laziness, and I finally tripped into the other room, there she was, lying on the floor, writhing about in some sort of agony. I quickly hurried up to her, desperate to help, but she’d already stopped moving. I started yapping like crazy, hoping someone would come. Someone must have heard, for there was a tapping on the door, but of course they couldn’t get in—the door was locked.

“And when I just kept on screaming and screaming and scratching the door, they broke it down. It was Zoltan, along with Pete. But by then it was too late. Zoltan tried to revive her, but Pete took one whiff at her, and pulled him back. Said he could get whatever killed her into his system, too, and collapse. They called an ambulance, but nothing could be done. She was gone.”

“That’s a terrible story,” said Dooley compassionately. “And I’m so very, very sorry. Imagine if something like that happened to Odelia, Max?”

I didn’t want to even to contemplate that scenario so I decided not to go there. “This person chatting with Kimberlee, who was it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “Like I said, I wasn’t paying attention. I think it was a woman, though. Because of the timbre of the voice?”

“And what were they talking about?”

“I only picked up a few words. Um…” She thought hard.

“Go on,” said Dooley. “Try to remember. This is very important.”

“I think they discussed a project of some kind? How Kimberlee would be perfect as a director?”

“A director,” I said, sharing a meaningful look with Dooley. There was only one director present at the mansion, and even though he was a man that didn’t mean he wasn’t the one in the room with Kimberlee.

“One thing puzzles me, though,” she said. “How did this person leave the room? The door was locked from the inside. So how did they leave?”

It was a mystery that we hadn’t cracked yet, but I was confident we would at some point.