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That’s also part of being a detective: other officers usually arrive there first, and pave the way for the detective to waltz in and take over the scene. So Chase now did waltz in, followed by his small troupe of consultants, and consultant’s consultants and whatnot, and immediately we noticed thatUncle Alec hadn’t lied: a murder had indeed been committed, and the evidence, in the form of a dead body, was lying near the fireplace.

“What are those cats doing here?” a large man with an abundance of frizzy hair growled. This was Abe Cornwall, the county coroner. “They’re going to contaminate my scene.”

In normal human language this means that Abe was accusing us of dragging in foreign particles and trace evidence from the street, and causing confusion for the people in the white coveralls whose job it is to process the crime scene and the person who’s been murdered, and ascertain whether the killer has left any fingerprints, footprints or traces of his or her DNA when prematurely, and not to mention illegally, snuffing out their unfortunate victim’s life.

“Don’t worry about my cats, Abe,” said Odelia. “They’re very disciplined. They know not to come near the victim.”

“Who is the victim?” asked Chase.

“Neda Hoeppner,” said one of the officers, presumably the one who’d first arrived, and notified Dolores, the station dispatcher, who’d notified Uncle Alec and the rest of us.

Uncle Alec, who now joined us, shook his head sadly.“Terrible business. Just terrible.”

“Did you know her?” asked Chase.

“Oh, sure. Neda was on every committee, a member of every society, active in every foundation. She had her fingers in a lot of pies.”

“That’s not very hygienic,” said Dooley. “At least I hope she washed her hands before she stuck her fingers in all of those pies.”

“What did she do for a living?” asked Chase.

“I’m not sure,” said the Chief, rubbing his chin.

“So in spite of the fact that she was on every committee, in every society and every foundation, you have no idea what it was that she actually did?”

“Uh-huh. I think she was simply rich, so she didn’t need to hold down a job.”

We all glanced around, and took in the understated opulence of the room we now found ourselves in. It was obvious that Neda Hoeppner had indeed been a wealthy woman, but also that she had excellent taste. The colorful sofas, the exquisite artwork adorning the walls, the coffee-table books placed on the coffee table and the perfectly maintained backyard we could see through the floor-to-ceiling windows attested to that.

As did the very large bookcase that covered part of one wall. Against the opposite wall a fireplace had been put in, though I had the impression it had been put there more for decorative reasons than functional ones. I could tell from the warmth my paws were experiencing that the room was heated by floor heating, which was very nice indeed.

Against that fireplace now lay a woman, face down, and judging from the blood on both the marble corner of the fireplace and the head of said woman, it wasn’t a stretch to conclude that she had fallen and knocked her head.

“How did she die?” asked Uncle Alec. His question was directed at Abe Cornwall, the one with the exploded hairdo. The coroner got up from his examination of the body, his knees making creaking sounds as he did. “As far as I can tell she hit her head against the corner of this fireplace and the impact killed her. Though to be absolutely sure I’ll need to take her in for a postmortem.”

“Time of death?”

Abe scratched his head.“No lividity, no rigor mortis. Judging by body temperature I’d say she died between eleven-thirty and twelve.”

Uncle Alec nodded as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin.“So if she fell and hit her head, why was this reported as a murder?” he asked, this time addressing his officer.

“There seems to have been a breakin, sir,” said the young man. He gestured to the safe, located behind a painting, which hung askance. The safe was open, clearly empty.

“Who called it in?”

“Mrs. Hoeppner’s secretary,” said the officer, and pointed to a distraught-looking woman who was being consoled by a second female officer, both seated on the couch.

“Chase, Odelia, I’ll let you handle the investigation,” said Uncle Alec, bowing out.

“Of course, sir,” said Chase, adopting a formal tone since we were in an official setting.

Chase and Odelia now joined the secretary, and while Harriet and Brutus wandered in the direction of the kitchen, presumably in search of something to eat, Dooley and I joined our humans. The investigation had begun.

3

Cher Shorn was clearly deeply impressed by what she’d encountered when she arrived in her employer’s home. She was clutching a Kleenex and dabbing it at her eyes. She was a horse-faced woman with long brown hair that fell like a curtain across her face, until she was joined by Odelia and Chase, at which point she made the effort to sit up a little straighter and tuck her long tresses behind her ears. She pushed her overly large glasses higher up her nose and took a deep breath.