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“Yeah. Turns out Rudolph is in Germany, and having a ball. I didn’t know Germans were so crazy about thrash metal. Though Rudolph said it’s actually death metal.”

“Death metal!” Dooley cried. “That sounds horrible!”

“It doesn’t actually involve dead people,” Kingman assured us. “It’s just a name.”

“So he’s drawing big crowds, is he?”

“Not really. As far as we can tell from the band’s Facebook page they’re still mostly playing small venues, and when Wilbur suggested he buy part of Rudolph’s share, he sounded happy, so I think he needs the money.”

“So Wilbur might be able to save the store from the clutches of the Timperleys?”

“Yeah, looks like it. Rudolph has agreed to give him another ten-percent share in exchange for some ready cash now, and the rest paid in installments over the next couple of years or so, and Wilbur has already wired him the money. So it looks like a done deal.”

“Hey, but that’s great, Kingman. So you and Wilbur will be able to stay here.”

“I know,” said Kingman, continuing to look subdued. “It’s just sad, you know, this sibling rivalry. Wilbur and Rudolph always seem to want to one-up each other. Always in competition. Rudolph actually tried to convince Wilbur he was playing one of Germany’s biggest venues, and that the place was sold out. Even though we could see from the band’s Facebook page that they played for five guys and a dog in some basement in D?sseldorf.”

“Rudolph wants to make it look as if he’s a big success.”

“Yeah, and he said he only sold his share in the store because he cares about Wilbur so much, even though it’s obvious he simply needs the money.” He shrugged. “It’s good for us, though. At least we’ll be able to hang onto the store and the apartment.”

I thought about what Kingman said, and suddenly there was a slight whirring sensation in that big noggin of mine, as several pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place.“Thanks, Kingman,” I said. “You’ve helped me more than you know.”

“You’re very welcome, buddy.”

Dooley came over, and for some reason his face looked as green as the kibble he’d just eaten. “I don’t feel so good,” he confessed, and suddenly and without warning upchucked everything he’d just eaten. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, looking miserable.

“Are you all right?” I asked, as I placed a solicitous paw on his back.

“More or less,” he said.

Wilbur, who’d noticed our friend’s incident, now came out of the store with a brush, and proceeded to sweep the contents of Dooley’s stomach into the gutter. “Thanks for that, Dooley,” he said. “At least now I know not to buy that Russian junk anymore.” And he returned into his store, whistling a pleasant tune.

“Looks like we’re Wilbur’s guinea pigs,” I said.

“Of course we are,” said Kingman. “I thought you knew!”

“I feel sick, Max,” said Dooley weakly. “Can we go home now?”

“Yes, Dooley,” I said. “But first we need to drop by Odelia’s office.” I gave him a look of determination. “There’s something I have to take care of before we go.”

Chapter 36

Scarlett gently knocked on the door of her employer’s office and listened for his telltale ‘Come!’ It took a while before it came this time, but when it finally did, she opened the door and said, “I have a customer who would very much like to see you, Mr. Wissinski. She’s a personal friend of mine, and I have told her you can see her now.” She lowered her voice and added, “She’s also very, very rich!”

“Oh, all right,” said Omar resignedly. After Chase and Odelia’s visit he hadn’t stepped out of the office once, and now looked even more dejected than before. “Send her in.”

Harriet and Brutus exchanged a look of excitement when Gran stepped into Omar’s office. She had brought a suitcase with her, and shlepped it in as she took a seat.

“Leave the door open, will you?” said Omar. “Air this place out a little.”

“Do you think he’ll take Gran on as a client?” asked Brutus.

“I’m sure he will,” said Harriet. “She is, after all, exactly the kind of client Omar likes.”

They watched on as Scarlett returned to her desk, and Gran took a seat in front of the insurance man.

“What can I do for you?” asked Omar, steepling his fingers and offering Gran his most ingratiating smile.

“Well, the problem is that I have all of this money, Mr. Omar,” said Gran. “And now I don’t know what to do with it, you see.”

Omar’s brow quivered. “Tell me more.”

“Well, my husband died a couple of months ago, and he left me a very large fortune. Unfortunately he made most of it by buying and selling illegal goods.”

“Your husband was in the import-export business?”

“Something like that,” said Gran. She leaned in. “My husband was a drug dealer.”

Omar looked surprised.“A drug dealer!”

“Yes, please don’t tell anyone. Scarlett, who’s my best friend, told me that you’re very discreet. And I hope I can count on your discretion now.”

“Oh, but of course, my dear lady. So how much money are we talking about here?”