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She passed through the dining room, turning her head away from Shana’s head, and stepped out onto the deck. Placing her hands on her knees, she took in big gulps of air, trying to convince her stomach to hold down her breakfast. It would be bad form to chuck up in the Kenspeckle pool.

She glanced up when two beige ankle boots appeared in her field of vision. They belonged to Shayonne Kenspeckle, one of Shana’s older sisters.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said between swallows.

Shayonne nodded and darted a disapproving glance at her Crazy Cat Lady shirt and her Daisy Dukes.“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Odelia Poole. Special consultant to the Hampton Cove PD.”

Shayonne gave her a cursory handshake, barely touching her skin. She was the spitting image of her sister, only with slightly coarser features, and instead of straight hair her dark hair was curly, with blonde highlights. She was dressed in a Dior top that announced she was the‘Sexiest Woman Alive,’ a pair of cropped jeans, and designer sunglasses pushed up into her ‘do.

“I was the one who found… the head,” Shayonne said, closing her eyes and pressing long purple fingernails against her forehead, her lips trembling.

“I’m so sorry.”

She opened her eyes.“Do you think they’ll come for me next?”

“Who will?”

“Al Qaida. Isn’t it obvious? We’re being targeted by these terrorists.”

“Oh, you mean the note. That was just a ruse, Mrs. Kenspeckle.”

The woman stared at Odelia.“A ruse? What do you mean?”

“The killer tried to make it look like terrorists were involved, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No. We’ll have the note translated, but it looks like it’s a fake.”

Shayonne clasped a hand to her ample bosom and breathed a sigh of relief.“Thank God. I thought we were under attack. That I would be next.”

“Well, you are under attack, but not from Mr. Albert Kida.”

She wondered what the procedure was. Probably Chase wanted to interview Shayonne, but if she got a head start she was sure he wouldn’t mind. They were a team. From the corner of her eye she saw Max and the others slink into view and disappear into the house. Which reminded her…

“Do you have any animals, Mrs. Kenspeckle? Dogs, cats… cockatoos?”

The last murder case she’d been involved in, the victim had owned a cockatoo, which had made Max’s work very difficult. Cats and birds don’t get along really well, and the bird had refused to divulge a single clue to him.

“Well, Shana has a French Bulldog,” said Shayonne.

“Oh, that’s right.” She remembered now. Even though she’d told Max she wasn’t a fan of the Kenspeckles, that didn’t mean she hadn’t caught a few episodes over the years. Perhaps even more than a few. “Kane, right?”

Shayonne nodded. Just then, the bulldog came waddling out. The moment he caught sight of Odelia, he started barking.

Arf, arf, arf.

“That’s all right, Kane,” said Shayonne. “Miss…”

“Poole. Odelia Poole.”

Arf, arf, arf.

“Miss Poole is here to catch the bad person who killed Mommy.”

Arf, arf, arf.

Shayonne swept Kane up in her arms and the dog stared at Odelia, his body trembling with hostility, a long slab of pink dangling from his mouth, his face puckered into a perpetual scowl. She didn’t think Max would get a lot out of this Frenchie. Like cats and birds, cats and dogs don’t get along.

“He’s been barking up a storm all morning,” said Shayonne, snuggling the bulldog and giving him a peck on his ugly little face. “You miss Mommy, don’t you? Don’t you, Kane? Mh?” And then she burst into tears. “Oh, God! She’s really gone, isn’t she? Gone for good! And to think the last words I said to Shana were that I hated her and that I wished she would just die!”

Odelia stared at the woman.“But… why?”

“Because she was sleeping with my husband, that’s why!”

Chapter 5

We’d been sneaking all over the house but so far not a sign of a feline inhabitant. The only animal we’d met was some horrible dog who couldn’t keep his trap shut. Just our luck: a murder had taken place and the only animal in the house was a stupid French Bulldog. I should have known going in that a family as peripatetic as the Kenspeckles would prefer canines to felines. And I was just about to give up when I caught sight of a rust-colored, scrawny cat, casually licking her paws while seated on a pool lounge chair.

Clarice, Hampton Cove’s resident feral menace, looked right at home.

“Look, you guys,” I said. “It’s Clarice.”

“Not again,” Dooley cried, quickly covering his nose.

The last time we met Clarice, Dooley’s nose had suffered because of the blood oath Clarice had made us swear in exchange of some information.

“Oh, no,” said Brutus, for once agreeing with Dooley. “I’m not going anywhere near that monster.”

“She’s actually very nice once you get to know her,” I told him.

That wasn’t exactly true. Clarice wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Quentin Tarantino movie. But for once I had Brutus at a disadvantage.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Harriet. “Last time Brutus got hurt.”

“Last time Brutus fainted like a kitten,” Dooley muttered.