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Tex decided to walk on through, figuring Dave was probably out back somewhere.

He stepped into the spacious living room, furnished with the latest in design, courtesy of Dave’s wife Veronica who, contrary to Dave, was into all the latest fashions and design fads. But when he failed to find the master of the manor in evidence, he entered the kitchen, calling out yet again, “Dave? Time for your checkup, buddy.”

The kitchen was devoid of Daves, though, and when he glanced out the window to check the deck, he saw no trace of his host there either.

A feeling of concern started to take hold of him, and it was with hastened step that he now decided to search the rest of the premises. He’d interpreted the fact that the front door was ajar as a sign his host was expecting him, but now revised his earlier interpretation into one of alarm. Had an intruder entered the house and caused Dave harm? Or had the man suffered an episode and was lying somewhere unconscious?

He wondered where Veronica was, and assumed she was probably out, as she always was when he dropped by. Veronica hated doctors, reminding her as they did of a less enjoyable side of existence. Also, since Dave was thirty years older than her, Tex also reminded her of the fact that life with her husband came with an expiration date.

He now set foot on the bottom step, hesitated but for a moment, then with light tread moved up the stairs. Arriving on the landing, he glanced around, getting his bearings. He’d been up there plenty of times, and knew that Dave had his studio at the back, where he would disturb no one when he decided to work late. The master bedroom was at the front of the house, with Danny’s room somewhere in the middle. He pushed open the room to Dave’s studio, where the man worked away at his Tollie the Turtle comic. The main studio was in town, and was where his team was located. It was also where Dave would meet potential investors, publishers, or candidates for merchandising. But his home studio was where he worked out the scripts, and came up with the jokes, which he still did himself.

And as Tex pushed open the door, he had to suppress a gasp of shock. A foot was sticking out from behind the desk. And as he stepped further into the small studio, his heart skipped a beat when Dave’s body came fully into view.

He immediately tamped down on the emotional response to seeing the prostrate body of his patient, and his instincts as a doctor, honed through years of practice, kicked in. So he set down his doctor’s bag, kneeled down next to Dave, and felt for the man’s pulse.

But his first instinct upon seeing the body sadly proved correct: Dave James, creator of Tollie the Turtle, was no more.

And as he took out his phone, his attention was drawn to a piece of paper clutched in the artist’s hand. On it, a name had been scrawled in pencil. It wasn’t Dave’s famously stylized scrawl but a name unknown to Tex.

And as he took a closer look, he quickly made out that it read:‘Jayme.’

Chapter 6

We were still lingering on the sidewalk in front of the Capital First Bank, discussing this and that, with Odelia basking in the glow of a job well done and Hester and Jayme’s gratitude, when suddenly no less than three police cars converged on us from different directions, lights flashing and sirens wailing, and cornered us like you see in the movies!

“Max, what’s happening!” Dooley cried.

Officers popped out of their cars like so many jacks-in-the-box and hurried over to us, their expressions betraying their determination to get their man—or woman—and there was a certain measure of yelling at Jayme not to resist arrest and to comply, and then she was being outfitted with a pair of shiny handcuffs and dragged off to the nearest car!

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing!” Odelia cried.

“Just doing our jobs, Odelia,” one of the officers was so kind to offer as an explanation. “If you want to know more, best talk to your uncle.”

“Oh, I will!” she said, looking extremely taken aback by this unexpected intervention.

And as quickly as they’d arrived, the police cars raced off again, carrying with them Jayme, who was glancing through the car window, and looking very scared indeed!

“Let’s go,” said Odelia before Hester could react. The old lady was as shaken as we all were, holding her hands to her face and looking on the verge of tears. She still did as she was told, though, and followed Odelia, who directed her step toward the police station, where she hoped to get a satisfactory explanation for this startling new development.

“I thought they were going to arrest us, Max,” said Dooley, looking relieved.

“And why would they arrest us, Dooley?” I asked. “For one thing, we haven’t done anything wrong, and for another, as far as I know the police don’t bother with taking pets into custody.” After all, their police stations aren’t exactly designed for pet incarceration.