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“Let me tell you what we think happened,” said the detective. “When his cousin told him about this whole business with the stock options, Harry smelled an opportunity to make some good money. So he and Danny devised a plan. A couple of days before the murder, Danny, who knows the building inside and out, managed to get a hold of Madison’s badge, and handed it to Harry, who was waiting in the parking lot. Harry cloned the badge on his computer, and Danny quickly returned the original badge before Madison found out it was missing.

“So the night of the murder, Danny snuck into the building using the cloned badge, which is why security thought the only person in the building was Madison. Danny snuck up to Madison’s office, knowing all about the man’s habit of working late into the night. He entered the office when Madison’s back was turned, overpowered him and shoved him out of the window. He then used the same badge to exit the building and check the man’s vital signs to make sure he was dead. Then he went home to give his cousin the good news.”

Danny’s eyes had gone wide. “But how do you know all this?!” he cried, getting up. But he sank down on the couch again, realizing he’d just given himself away.

“You idiot!” Harry yelled. “You stupid, stupid idiot!”

“Harry?” said Melanie, a tremor in her voice. “Tell me this isn’t true.”

Harry shrugged.“You’re always complaining about money, Mom. How you can’t pay for this or that or whatever. So I just figured we could use the money to pay off the mortgage. Own the house free and clear, never having to worry again.”

“But Harry—killing a man? How could you?”

“He was a corporate rat, Mom. The same kind of corporate rat who are always threatening to kick us out of our house. So instead of them screwing us over, I decided to screw him over for a change. And it worked. It actually worked.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, crumpling like a used tissue.

Tom had to support her, or she would have fallen to the floor.

The doorbell rang a second time, and Mrs. Kingsley went to open it. Natalie Ferrara walked in, but if she had expected to find a happy scene, she was sorely disappointed. Instead, she walked in on an arrest in progress, with both Harry and Danny Mitchell being apprehended for the murder of Michael Madison.

And so what was supposed to be the happiest day in Melanie Mitchell’s life, turned out to be one of the darkest ones instead.

CHAPTER 35

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“The thing I should have asked myself,” I explained, “was the basic question any detective should always ask themselves: who stood to gain from Michael Madison’s death. But instead we all focused on who simply wanted him dead.”

“I think you did great, Max,” said Brutus. “You got there in the end, and that’s all that matters.”

We were seated on the porch swing in Marge and Tex’s backyard, the four of us lined up in a row. We’d eaten a nice meal, consisting of not-so-vegetarian pieces of chicken filet, and now we were relaxing and doing some people watching.

“I could have gotten there sooner,” I said. “But who would have thought a fifteen-year-old and his cousin would be behind this whole sordid business?”

“And Danny seemed like such a nice kid,” said Dooley. “I really liked him.”

“I think we all liked him. He was very helpful and kind. But he was also a killer, and one thing doesn’t seem to exclude the other.”

“Poor Tom,” said Dooley. “Now that he finally got the girl, he’s lost his brother and his cousin.”

“Yeah, tough,” I agreed. Though Natalie would be a great support for Melanie, who had taken the arrest of her son and nephew hard, as was to be expected.

“Harry did it to help his mom,” said Harriet. “And besides, he’s a minor, so the judge will probably go easy on him.”

“Even if he did it to help his mom,” I said, “murder is still murder, Harriet.”

“I know, I know.” All this talk about murder had distracted attention from her photoshoot, and she didn’t like it. She glanced over to the humans, and when she saw they were also discussing the murder, she slumped. “This was supposed to be the best moment of my life—and you ruined it, Max! You and your murder!”

“It wasn’t my murder, Harriet,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” she said moodily. “But nobody is going to care about my cover now. It’s all going to be about Madison and the terrible things that happened.”

“I’m sure by the time the copy ofCat Life with your cover comes out,” I said, “people will have forgotten all about this murder business.”

She perked up at this.“You think?”

“Of course. And I’m sure Marge and Odelia will buy up several copies, and frame your cover and give it pride of place in their homes.”

“Oh, I would like that so much,” she said, clasping her paws together. “They could hang one in the living room, and one in the bedroom, and one in the bathroom. And the toilet, of course. Very important. So they can study my portrait when they’re doing their business.”