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Following Odelia’s instructions we were on our way to talk to one of our main sources of information: Kingman was seated right next to his owner Wilbur Vickery, proud owner of the General Store, right in the heart of town. Kingman is one of those garrulous cats and a collector of gossip. So if anyone would have the lowdown on what had happened to Dino Wimmer it would be him.

“Hey, fellas,” he said when we came walking up to him. He was enjoying a few rays of sunshine warming his voluminous body and clearly was in excellent spirits.

“A sausage man murdered Odelia’s friend’s father and she’s asked us to investigate,” Dooley blurted out, immediately getting to the heart of the matter without delay.

Kingman stared at him.“A sausage man did what now?” he asked finally.

Dooley took a deep breath.“A sausage—”

“A man was killed last night,” I said, deciding to take over the narrative thrust of the conversation before Kingman got all muddled up. As muddled up as Dooley obviously was. “He’s a banker and his daughter asked Odelia to investigate, since she doesn’t believe the official story that hetook his own life. Dino Wimmer. That name ring a bell, Kingman?”

“Rings many bells,” said Kingman, nodding. “I think he’s the one who built that big monstrosity across the street, and made sure that we only get sunshine in the summer months these days, and are shivering in the shadows come fall and winter.”

We all glanced across the street where the Hampton Cove Star stands proud and erect, our town’s most prestigious and popular boutique hotel.

“So he killed himself, huh?” Kingman went on. “He probably couldn’t live with the shame of plunking that pile of junk across the street. Did you know that before that horrible hotel opened its doors a perfectly nice little grocery store stood in its place? The owner was an old lady who usedto smile at me every morning as she opened her doors, and was known to tickle me under my chin when she dropped by for a chat with Wilbur.”

I glanced briefly at Kingman’s three chins and wondered which chin this old lady used to tickle him under, but decided to refrain from plumbing the matter more deeply. “So do you have any idea why a man like that would be the victim of a vile murder?” I asked instead.

Kingman frowned.“Oh, that’s right. You’re now claiming he didn’t kill himself but was killed.” His frown deepened. “Well, I can only point to one suspect, and he had plenty of reasons to do the deed, if you ask me.”

“And who might this suspect be?” I asked, my interest piqued.

Kingman gestured to his owner, who was ringing up the wares his customers had deposited on the conveyor belt with a kindly smile. Who wouldn’t smile kindly when money was flowing into the till at a rapid pace, due to that mysterious phenomenon called inflation?

“Wilbur?” I said. “You think your human killed Dino Wimmer?”

“No, I’m not saying he killed him—in fact I doubt whether Wilbur would ever raise a hand against anyone, whether man or beast. But you asked me for potential suspects and that’s the only potential suspect I can think of.”

“And why would Wilbur of all people kill Dino?”

“Because of what he did to Emily, of course.”

“Emily?”

“The old lady who owned the grocery store? I think between you and me that those two were sweet on each other, but then Dino came along and convinced Emily’s son to sell the store, and the son more or less arm-wrestled his mother into selling up and moving away. She’s in a nursing home now, Ithink, paid for with the profits from the sale of her store, as far as I can tell. And Wilbur lost the one great love of his life.”

“I thought you once told me Wilbur only dates women under the age of fifty?”

“Now he does, ever since the trauma Emily’s departure inflicted on his tender soul.”

We all looked up at Wilbur, who was now serving a young woman dressed in a crop top and ripped jeans. He was ogling her in quite an overtly fashion, and saying,“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the movies with me? I’ll make it worth your while.” He wiggled his bushy brows for emphasis, and even though the girl rolled her eyes at so much lasciviousness, Wilbur obviously wasn’t deterred, for he slipped her his card and said, with a fat wink, “Call me any time. Day or night. Though nights are better for me.”

“Yeah, why is that?” she asked, in spite of herself.

“Cause at night I turn into a love-crazed animal,” he said, and uttered a growl and clawed the air for emphasis.

“Oh, my God,” the girl muttered, and hurried off.

Yep. Wilbur definitely has a tender soul. No doubt about it.

Chapter 13

“So did you see anyone last night?” asked Vesta. She had a feeling they were about to strike pay dirt. Just a feeling, mind you, but she put great stock in her intuition, like any detective worth his or her salt would. Though so far she had nothing to show for it: the woman hadn’t recognized either Leo Kemp or Romney Knight. Still, hope springs eternal.