40b1ce81e27faee7f7dcd22da99b93e1

Underneath the table, a teacup doggie sat eyeing us with misty eyes. It looked like a tiny ball of fluff, but unlike Joey didn’t respond to our presence with hostility but unveiled curiosity.

“Hey, there,” I said as we settled in for the duration of the interview.

“Hi,” said the doggie, who was of uncertain breed.

Introductions were made, and the dog turned out to answer to the unlikely name Froufrou. She was nice enough, and soon we enjoyed a cozy little chat.

“So Madison is dead, huh?” said Froufrou. “Well, as much as I hate to say it, good riddance, Max.”

“But why?” asked Dooley. “I know we only met him briefly, but he seemed like a good person.”

“Good person! He gave Doris a copy ofElements of Style! Basically telling her she can’t write. That’s not the kind of thing you do to a person. Totally out of line.”

“Can Doris write?” I asked.

“Of course she can! She’s the best writer I know.”

Which wasn’t saying much, of course, since Doris was probably the only writer Froufrou knew. Still, it was admirable to see such loyalty in man’s best friend.

“Did Doris kill Michael Madison, you think?” asked Dooley.

Froufrou gave him a look of amusement.“You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Dooley?”

“I believe in the direct approach,” my friend said. “Humans circle round and round and sniff each other’s butts for hours before they get down to brass tacks but not me.”

“I think you’ll find that’s actually dogs,” said Froufrou. “Especially the butts part. But to answer your question: no, Doris did not murder Michael Madison. She was getting even with the man, but she wasn’t going to stoop as low as that. And besides, now that he’s dead, her wrongful dismissal suit is probably going out the window.”

“She can still sue Advantage,” I suggested.

“And she will. But with Michael gone, they’ll claim it was his decision and his decision alone, and they had nothing to do with it.”

“So she was home last night—all night?” I asked.

“She was home last night,” Froufrou confirmed. “We Netflixed and chilled.”

I stared at the doggie“You mean…”

“We watched a Netflix movie and relaxed on the couch.”

“Oh, right,” I said, much relieved. I didn’t think Doris was into any funny business, but one can never be sure, of course. “Netflix and chill. Gotcha.”

“We Netflix and chill all the time,” said Dooley.

I grimaced. This conversation was getting off track.

“Or at least Odelia and Chase do, and we stick around.”

Our humans seemed to have concluded their conversation, and so it was time to leave. But Froufrou had one parting shot to deliver.“Doris is much better off since she left Advantage. Did you know that the day after she quit she was hired by Advantage’s big competitor? She writes forGlam now, and no one has accused her of not being able to spell yet. So it’s all to the good.”

All to the good, except for Michael Madison, who was dead.

Then again, one person’s misfortune is often another person’s fortune.

CHAPTER 26

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

We caught Wayne Piscina on his break. The former assistant photographer was working for a local catering company now, delivering meals at home. He might even be the one delivering meals to Ona Konpacka. He was dressed in a snazzy orange outfit, hoisting a bulky orange backpack.

Odelia seated herself on the park bench next to the disgraced assistant, and launched into her spiel.

“Look, I don’t know what you heard,” said Mr. Piscina, “but there was no scandal, and I wasn’t fired, okay? I quit. Creative differences. Mike Madison was a tough man to please, and I just couldn’t function in the kind of toxic environment he created around himself.”

“So you quit and now you’re working as a delivery guy?”

“Hey, it’s a great job. You’re out and about, on your bike, plenty of exercise and fresh air. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m a people pleaser, and there’s nothing more gratifying than delivering a great meal and watching those happy faces when you arrive on their doorstep with their meal.”

“So that story about the tweets?”

“Lies—all lies. Never happened.”

“I’ve got some of those tweets here,” said Odelia, taking out her phone. “Looks like someone took a bunch of screenshots before you removed your account.”

Wayne eyed her nervously, his back stiffly pressed against the bench. Finally he relented.“Okay, so maybe those tweets exist. But like I explained already to anyone who’ll listen, I was young and stupid when I fired off those tweets. Young,drunk and stupid, I might add. And I apologize unreservedly. Absolutely. But to fire me over some old tweets? Come on. That’s just ridiculous. You might as well come after me for stealing Nickie Marshall’s Barbie doll in second grade.”

“So you admit that you were fired now?”

“Yeah, okay. So I was fired. There. Happy now? You got your quote?”

“It’s not about quotes, Wayne. Mike Madison died last night, and rumor has it he didn’t jump but was pushed. So at some point the police will be looking at you.”