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“So if he was taking pictures of Jeb,” said Alec, putting his phone away, “where is his camera?”

“Good question,” Odelia murmured. There was no trace of a camera anywhere, or a phone, or a laptop.

“So let me get this straight. Our guy here comes into town to spy on Jeb. He stumbles down the stairs, breaks his neck, and his camera magically vanishes into thin air.”

“He could have hidden it somewhere,” said Odelia. “This place was crawling with reporters two days ago. If he took pictures of…” Her eyes widened. “What if Jack is our mystery caller—the anonymous witness?! If he was taking pictures of the house across the street, he could have seen the murder—he could have gotten the whole thing on film!”

“We need that camera,” Alec muttered. “And by God I’m gonna find it, if I have to tear down this place to do it. If what you’re saying is true, and I think it is, this cinches it.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and Alec went outside to meet his people. Odelia found herself staring across the street, straight into Jeb’s secret hideaway. Only his hideaway hadn’t been as secret or hidden away as he would have hoped.

“What do you think?” asked Chase.

“Honestly? If Jack was the witness, that’s it for Jeb. Game over.” Then again, until they found that camera, all bets were off. She told him about their run-in with Conrad, and about Animal, the guy Jeb owed money to. She also touched on her conversations with Prunella Lemon and Fitz Priestley, and how little they’d yielded in fresh information.

“This Animal sounds like a good lead,” Chase said. “Though I hope you’re not thinking about approaching him all by your lonesome. Or, even worse, with your granny in tow.”

“I was hoping you’d join me. I’d feel a lot safer with you backing me up than Gran.”

“Although you have to admit your grandmother is a force to be reckoned with.”

They both watched through the window as Gran woke up, stretched, then looked around, confused why she was alone.

“Odelia!” she yelled. “Where the hell are you?Odeliaiaaaah!”

Chase grinned.“Time to go back to grannysitting, babe.”

Odelia rolled her eyes.“How are the kittens, by the way?”

“They’ve quickly turned into the talk of the station. Everyone—and I do mean everyone—has been finding excuses to go over and play with them. They’re incredible.”

“They are, aren’t they?”

“Alec is even thinking about adopting them, so he can bring them to work. Turn them into the station mascots.”

She laughed.“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. He’s crazy about those little guys, and so am I, by the way.”

She placed an affectionate hand on his chest.“Crazy cat dude.”

“You know it.”

“Odeliaaaah!” Gran screamed.“Odeliaaaaaaaah!”

Chapter 31

For some reason I found mystifying, Gran was screaming for Odelia. Dooley and I walked up to her and told her Odelia was inside, and that we’d found a dead body.

“Not another dead body,” said Gran, then suddenly seemed to get an idea. She grabbed her smartphone, got out of the car with surprising alacrity, and raced to the house.

“Where is she going?” asked Dooley.

“No idea.”

“Don’t move that body until I get there!” she was yelling. “Don’t you dare move that body, Alec!”

She disappeared inside the house.

I shared a look with Dooley that spoke volumes. Humans, said that look. I know, Dooley’s look returned.

We casually strode up to the house and jumped up on the windowsill, from where we had a perfect view of the happenings inside. Chase stood chatting with Odelia, Uncle Alec stood barking at one of his deputies, and Gran? She demanded to see the dead body.

“Weird,” said Dooley.

“Really weird,” I agreed.

“Bloodthirsty,” Dooley added.

“Probably something to do with her vlog.”

“Her vlog?”

“Video blog. Grandma has a video blog where she chronicles her sleuthing adventures. She probably figured it needed a bit more verisimilitude.”

Dooley stared at me.

“Reality. She probably wants to add reality to her videos. Humans like blood.”

“They do, don’t they? I don’t.”

“Me neither.” I couldn’t even stand the sight of blood. Then again, we’re cats, and therefore peaceable creatures. Except Clarice, maybe, with her strange taste for rats.

“So now what?” said Dooley.

“Now we have a bad-boy actor in jail for murdering his ex-wife, his daughter who believes he’s innocent, a neighbor director who may or may not have harbored a grudge against Jeb for destroying his directing career, a bestselling novelist who may or may not have harbored a similar grudge against Jeb for destroying her noveling career, a dead paparazzo who was spying on Jeb and who may or may not have witnessed Jeb murdering his ex-wife and obtained photographic evidence, and a drug dealer and a loan shark who may or may not have wanted to get back at Jeb for not paying the money he owed.”

“A right royal mess,” was Dooley’s opinion, and I was inclined to agree with him. “So who did it?”

“You mean, if we agree that Jeb didn’t do it?”

“That’s what we believe, right?”

“That’s what his daughter believes. It’s not necessarily what we believe.”