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She walked out of the police station and wondered how to proceed. She had interviews to conduct with Randy’s staff, and also the man’s sister. She really didn’t have time to go look for Brutus. At least her grandmother was on the case, and her mom had promised to print up flyers they could use to paper the entire neighborhood.

Her stomach turned as she thought of poor Brutus, out there, alone and scared.

She got back into her car, and when Max and Dooley and Harriet gave her hopeful looks, she felt horrible having to tell them her uncle was going to do exactly nothing to help find their friend.

“He says the police are there to find people, not pets,” she said as she started the car.

“He’s not going to help us find Brutus?” asked Dooley.

“He’ll see what he can do. Which, as we all know, means he’ll do diddly.” She backed up the car and left the parking lot. “At least Gran is on the case. And maybe you guys should be out there, too. Looking for Brutus.”

“But we want to help you, Odelia,” said Max. “Otherwise Randy will die, and that’s not good.”

“No, I guess not,” she said, though ever since Chase had made his shocking discovery that Mom and Randy were having an affair, she’d started to see the fitness guru in a completely different light—an extremely unfavorable one!

She drove the short distance to the apartment building where the man’s manager lived, and parked the car out in front. “Are you sure you want to come?” she asked. “I don’t think there’s a lot you can do here.”

“No, we want to come,” said Max. “We need to save Randy, Odelia. It’s very important.”

She frowned at her cat. Max wasn’t usually this adamant, but apparently he and the others had taken a liking to Randy, and were now prepared to do whatever it took to save the man’s life.

“All right,” she said, holding open the door for her cats. “Let’s go, then. The sooner we finish these interviews, the sooner we can go back to finding Brutus.”

She walked up to the apartment block, hiking her purse higher up her shoulder, and glanced up. It was a newly built block of flats, and looked very expensive. Randy’s manager had done well for himself. Then again, if he took ten or fifteen percent of everything the fitness guru made, and had been with the man for the bulk of his career, he’d have amassed a pretty sizable pile of money.

She pressed her finger to the bell announcing that here lived Saul Garter, and moments later was buzzed in.

Riding the elevator up to the upper floor, she hoped that the man had pets, or otherwise Max and the others would really have come along for nothing.

The door to the manager’s apartment opened, and a short man appeared, with a shifty-eyed demeanor, and one of those faces only a mother could love. It took her a while to determine what animal he reminded her of, but she finally settled on a rodent. With his prominent nose, his overbite, his shifty dark eyes and his pronounced stoop, he’d have felt right at home at a rat colony.

“Hi, Mr. Garter,” she said. “My name is Odelia Poole and I’m a reporter with the Hampton Cove Gazette. We talked on the phone last night. I was hoping we could have a chat about one of your clients—Mr. Hancock?”

“Of course,” he said, and ushered her in. “Ever since you called I’ve been trying to get a hold of Randy. In vain, I might add. Do you know where he is?”

“He contacted me via email,” said Odelia, reiterating the story she and Randy and Chase had agreed upon for these interviews with the man’s staff. “He told me he’s gone into hiding after certain threats had been made against his life, and has asked me to look into the origin of these threats.”

“Death threats?” asked the manager, looking much surprised by this startling bit of news.

Odelia nodded, and glanced around. The flat was as modern on the inside as it was on the outside: plenty of glass and chrome, beige decorative epoxy flooring, a cassette-style wood stove providing heat, and a glass-enclosed balcony offering sunlight in all seasons.

“Nice place you’ve got,” she said.

“Yeah, I got it on the cheap,” said Mr. Garter. “The guy who built it is a former client. Used to run a chain of fitness clubs before he went into real estate. So how can I help you, Miss Poole?” He glanced down at the three cats who sat obediently awaiting further instructions. “I see you brought your cats?” he said, looking startled.

“I couldn’t find a cat sitter,” she explained, “so I had to bring them along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, sure,” he said vaguely, though he didn’t look all that happy about the feline contingent setting paw into his neat home. “Please take a seat.” He gestured to the leather couch in the living area.

“Randy wrote that you’ve been his manager for the past thirty years? Is that correct?” she said as she took out her writing tablet and stylus. They replaced her trusty notebook. That way she could save her notes to the cloud.