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“You will have to ask him yourself, I’m afraid,” said Hortense. “I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about what happened. I’ve been upstairs in my room crying.”

Odelia decided to postpone the questions for later, when they had a chance to properly sit down with the woman. For now they needed to see what had happened.

Hortense led them up a staircase and into the upstairs hallway, then to the last door on the left, where a large man stood sentry. When they arrived, he nodded. With his bald pate, horn-rimmed glasses and white walrus mustache he looked more like a kindly uncle than a hardened security man. He definitely did not look like Kevin Costner.

The bodyguard answered in the affirmative when Uncle Alec asked if he was Tyson, and stepped aside so the trio could enter the room. It was a large room, one wall consisting of a giant mirror, not unlike the workout rooms in fitness clubs. Speakers were still blaring and on a giant screen a woman was going through some dance moves.

“You told me not to touch a thing so I didn’t touch a thing,” said Tyson. He darted a sad look at the lifeless body in front of the mirror, and a lone tear stole from his eye.

Uncle Alec placed an arm around his broad shoulders.“You better get out of here, Mr. Wanicki. But don’t go too far. We want to have a word with you.”

“Yes, Chief,” said the man deferentially as he swiped at his teary face.

At the door, Hortense still stood, reluctant to enter.“You, too, Miss Harvey,” said Alec.

“Yes, Chief Lip,” said the woman, and the Chief closed the door behind them.

Once they were alone, he crouched down next to the body of the singer, shaking his head in dismay.“What a waste,” he muttered.

Odelia’s sneakered feet made a squeaking sound as she crossed the floor. The first thing that struck her was how small Chickie Hay looked. She also noticed the bruising on the famous singer’s neck and the bulging eyes, a clear indication of how she’d died.

“You a fan?” asked Chase.

“Not a big fan, but I like her music, yeah,” said Odelia.

“Me, too,” said Chase, a little surprisingly. He was strictly a country and western guy, but then again, Chickie Hay had country roots, and her first albums had been all country.

Odelia glanced up at the video screen where the choreographer still stood showcasing complicated and exhausting-looking moves, and Odelia remembered she’d been going through a similar routine herself only an hour before.

“Abe will be here soon,” said Uncle Alec, “but if you want you can start the interviews now. No sense in all of us waiting around for the big guy to show up, right?”

After one last look at Chickie, Odelia and Chase filed out of the room and saw that the bodyguard and the housekeeper had decided to wait outside. And as Hortense led them to a room where they could set up the interviews, Odelia wondered if Chickie had pets for her cats to interview. She hoped so, and she hoped they’d seen what had happened to their mistress.

Chapter 3

I actually felt like the leader of the pack for once, as I moved along the greenery in the direction of the back of the house, three cats following my lead. It didn’t last long, though, for soon Harriet fell into step beside me, scanning the grounds with her sharp eyes. “Our objective is to locate and interrogate any pets on the premises, Max,” she said, then darted a stern-faced look over her shoulder at the others. “And that goes for you two, too. Keep your eyes peeled, boys—remember, Odelia is counting on us.”

I heaved a deep sigh as she overtook me and then moved ahead of me, Brutus hurrying to keep up with her. Dooley and I fell behind and then lost sight of them.

“What is it, Max?” asked Dooley. “Why are you looking so sad all of a sudden?”

“For once I wish I were the one in charge—me being Odelia’s cat and all.”

“But you are the one in charge, Max.”

“Tell that to Harriet. I’m sure she doesn’t see it that way.”

He gave me a reassuring smile.“To me you’ll always be the one in charge, Max.”

I have to tell you I was touched. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.“Thanks, Dooley,” I said. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“So what do we hope to find here, Max?”

“No idea. But you know what these ultra-rich celebrities are like. They like to keep some special pets no one else has. So we might expect a pet boa constrictor, a pet llama, a pet chimpanzee—anything goes.”

“Got it,” he said, looking appropriately serious for this most important mission.

“What do you think about Gran becoming the next Beyonc??” I asked as we roamed around Chickie Hay’s gorgeous garden, exotic plants covering every available surface.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “You still haven’t told me who this Beyonc? person is.”

“Oh, right. Well, Beyonc? is—”

But unfortunately I was interrupted by the call of a bird. One glance told me it was a big bird—in fact a large peacock. And Harriet was already engaging it in conversation.

I resumed my instructive moment with Dooley.“So Beyonc? is—”