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“We arrived at Dunc’s loft at noon,” said Chase. “And according to Abe the body was still warm, so the murder must have been committed shortly before we arrived.”

“You could have caught the killer in action!” said Scarlett.

“Yeah, looks like we just missed him. When did Omar get there, babe?”

“Must have been around… twelve-fifteen? Something like that?”

“How long does it take to go from the mall to Gardner Street?”

“Ooh, let me!” said Scarlett, and took out her phone. “Google Maps,” she said as she tapped her screen with her long fingernails.

“I don’t know how she does it,” said Harriet. “When I tap my tablet screen with my nails it doesn’t work. I have to use my paw pads.”

“I think it takes years of practice,” I said as we all watched Scarlett with amusement.

“Got it!” she finally said, jiggling her ‘frontage’ for good measure. “Twenty minutes!”

“You have to take into consideration that he had to go from his office to the parking lot to get his car,” said Gran. “So you better add another twenty minutes.”

“Plus traffic and parking his car,” Scarlett added. “Always a problem on Gardner Street.”

“You know Gardner Street?” asked Odelia, surprised.

“My nail salon is in that building,” said Scarlett, and held out her hands for Odelia’s inspection.

“Nice,” murmured the latter as she studied Scarlett’s admittedly impressive nails.

“Okay, so that seems to pan out,” said Chase. “I guess we can rule out Omar for Dunc’s murder.”

“And for Jona’s murder as well,” said Gran. “Unless the man would have knocked himself on the head.”

“It’s possible to knock yourself on the head,” said Scarlett, and tried to demonstrate it, almost causing her to topple off her chair. “Okay, so maybe it’s not that easy,” she finally conceded. “Besides, like I said: Omar is a sweetie. He’d never raise his hand in anger.”

“See?” said Gran triumphantly. “That only leaves Kristina—the fake agoraphobic!”

“Or her husband and son,” said Odelia, giving her gran a censorious look.

“Or the gambling mafia,” Chase grunted.

“Or one of the other bachelors!” said Scarlett. “Have you talked to Sergio yet?”

“Not yet,” said Chase with a grin. “Why? You a fan of Zeus?”

Scarlett clutched a hand to her heart.“Am I a fan of Zeus? Are you kidding me! I’m only Zeus’s biggest fan!” She wrapped a hand around Chase’s impressive bicep. “Can I join you for the interview? I promise I won’t do anything embarrassing like ask for the man’s autograph.” She batted her eyelids imploringly. “Prettyplease?”

“This is a police investigation, Scarlett,” said Chase, adopting his police persona and giving her a stern-faced look. “Not a press junket with a movie star.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, displaying a pouty face. “Be that way, if you must.”

“We’ll ask him for his autograph, if you want,” Odelia suggested.

Scarlett perked up a little.“Have him make it out to ‘My beloved Scarlett,’ will you?”

Chase uttered a groan, but Odelia smiled and said,“I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter 19

Since Odelia had retreated into her office and Chase had retreated into his, Dooley and I decided to pay a visit to our good friend Kingman and get his take on this whole murder business. Kingman is, after all, a bachelor, and maybe could offer us some unique perspective on the case.

“Two dead bachelors, huh?” he said as he lifted his head in greeting.

“One dead bachelor, actually,” I said. “Dunc Hanover was engaged to be married.”

“What can I tell you, fellas? It’s always been the bachelor life for me.”

“Technically we’re also bachelors, aren’t we, Max?” said Dooley. “I don’t have a girlfriend and you don’t have a girlfriend so I guess that also makes us bachelors.”

“Yes, but not confirmed bachelors, like Kingman,” I said, eager to make the distinction. “For Kingman being a bachelor is like a vocation. Something he truly believes in.”

“And for us?” Dooley asked. “What does being a bachelor mean for us, Max?”

“I guess… it just happens to be that way for us,” I said.

“You mean like an accident?”

“Well, no. More like the way the cookie crumbles.”

“What cookie?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“Any cookie, Dooley. It’s just an expression.”

“Chocolate chip, probably. I like chocolate, even though Vena says it’s not good for me.”

Vena is our vet, and has a long list of stuff that isn’t good for us. Vena is a spoilsport.

We had met Kingman in front of the General Store, which is owned by his human Wilbur Vickery. Wilbur seemed to be in a bad mood for some reason, griping at his customers and generally looking grumpy and out of sorts.

“Max is right,” said Kingman. “I am a bachelor out of conviction, whereas you guys are bachelors through no fault of your own—simply the fact that you haven’t found the one yet.”

“The one what?” asked Dooley.

“Well… the one,” said Kingman with a helpless shrug. “Though in my personal opinion this whole business about the one is just a myth. I mean, why be so miserly, you know? Why can’t there be two, or three, or even four or five ‘ones’ out there for everyone?”