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“He must be a very important person, for you to abandon Grace like that,” said Dooley as we took our positions on the backseat, digging in our claws while the car accelerated and was soon hurtling along the route.

“I’m not abandoning Grace,” said Odelia. “But it’s true that Ed Dexter is a very important person. He’s the guy who puts batteries in cars and satellites in space.”

“Oh, so he builds cars, does he?” I asked.

“His main business is building batteries, but when he saw an opportunity, he started building cars, too, figuring they were a good bet for his battery business. And since then he’s gone from strength to strength.”

“I wonder what he wants to see you about.”

“Maybe he wants to sell you a new car,” Dooley suggested. “Could be that he saw you in this old wreck and decided you could use a better one.”

Odelia smiled at us in her rearview mirror.“I wouldn’t mind a new car.”

Frankly she could use the replacement, since her own car is falling to pieces. And with a kid to take care of, she’d already expressed a fervent wish to trade her rusty pickup in for a family vehicle. A minivan, perhaps, or a Volvo. Though Chase was still resisting the transition, hoping she would change her mind, and buy a sporty model instead. A Porsche, maybe. Or a fancy Lexus. Knowing Odelia, though, that minivan is going to happen, whether Chase likes it or not.

“Why is it that men hate minivans so much, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I think they feel it emasculates them,” I said.

“What is emasticate, Max?”

“Emasculate,” I said, enunciating clearly. “It means that a man feels threatened in his masculinity.”

“Men of a certain age fight hard against the notion that they’re aging fast,” Odelia explained. “Especially when they become dads. It really brings home to them the fact that they’re getting older. And one of the things they use to hang onto their youth is a sports car, since a lot of boys dream of one day owning one. So now they can finally afford to buy their dream car, only they also have a family to consider, and babies and sports cars don’t go well together.”

“I think minivans are great,” I said.

“Yes, I don’t feel dismasticated one bit,” said Dooley.

“Emasculated,” I said, “with the E of Eek!”

“Let’s hope Edward Dexter invited me over to give me an electric minivan,” said Odelia. “Though somehow I doubt it.”

I did, too. Most billionaires aren’t big on giving away stuff for free. Otherwise they wouldn’t be billionaires in the first place.

She soon directed her car into the underground parking garage that caters to the Star Hotel’s clientele, and once she’d made sure her pickup was locked—though I could have told her there was no need, since no one in their right mind would steal the old thing—we headed to the elevator, and soon arrived in the lobby of the hotel, just in time for our rendezvous with the elusive Mr.Dexter.

We found the businessman in the bar, as arranged, and when he saw that Odelia hadn’t come alone, as requested, but had brought along her feline posse, a cloud passed across the man’s face. But then he seemed to mentally take the hurdle, and welcomed Odelia by spreading his arms and opening the sluice gates of charm that made him such a fixture in financial circles and socialmedia alike.

“Miss Poole,” he said warmly. “Though Dan tells me it’s Mrs. Kingsley now?”

“It is,” said Odelia, as she took the proffered seat and settled in across the table from the man.

Edward Dexter was a distinguished man in his early fifties, with an unruly mop of dirty blond hair, a patrician nose that slashed the air with decision, straight thin lips, and steely blue eyes that seemed to cut right through you.

He was also thin, which gave me the impression that he probably ran marathons when he wasn’t counting his billions or putting batteries in his battery-operated cars or flying off into space in one of his spaceships.

He was impeccably dressed in a pink shirt with blue stripe, and a tie with little bitcoin signs. All in all a man to be reckoned and definitely not trifled with.

“So what can I do for you, Mr. Dexter?” asked Odelia.

The man smiled.“Straight to the point. I like that. Yes, Odelia—may I call you Odelia?—there’s something on my mind only you can help me with, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” she said, returning his steely glance with the noncommittal look of the reporter who’s burning with curiosity but determined not to show it.

“I don’t think he’s going to offer her a car, Max,” said Dooley.

“No, somehow I have the impression he’s in some kind of trouble,” I said, studying the man closely, just in case his intentions turned out to be less honorable than expected.

Suddenly the man’s spine seemed to collapse, and his shoulders slumped. A sad look came over him, and he said, almost in a whisper, “I’ve lost the one person most dear to me, Mrs. Kingsley. And frankly I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” asked Odelia.