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“Like Tex is allergic to Gran?” asked Dooley.

“More like how some people are allergic to pollen.”

“Speaking of pollen. What’s the deal with those birds and bees, Max?”

“Ugh,” Harriet muttered. “Brutus, let’s go. We have a mission to finish, and a very important question to ask Odelia.”

Brutus dutifully followed his designated mate for life, and held up his paw in a gesture of goodbye.

“So about those birds and bees,” said Dooley.

“Can we talk about that later?” I said. “We only have today to solve this murder—if that’s what this is—so we need to move fast.”

“Oh, all right. But you won’t forget? I really want to know. And I also want to know what this business with the tubes is all about. It sounds fascinating.”

I heaved a silent sigh. Why was it always me who had to have the tough conversations?

We trudged along, and already I was wondering how we were going to pull this off. In a big place like this, all participants were locked up in their rooms, not unlike the way the inhabitants of Hampton Cove were locked up in their homes. Only with homes pets were free to come and go as they pleased, thanks to the invention of the fantastic and revolutionary pet flap. And as far as I could tell there were no pet flaps in the doors on this particular second-floor hallway, which presumably was where all the pets were holed up.

“We better head down and outside, Max,” said Dooley. “Sooner or later all these dogs have to go for a walk to do their business, so that’s our best shot at having a crack at them.”

I slowly turned to my friend.“Dooley, that’s brilliant!”

“Gee, thanks, Max. The thought just occurred to me.”

“And a good thing it did. See? If you don’t let your mind get cluttered with useless information about birds and bees and tubes you get to put in some good thinking.”

“I still want to know about the birds and the bees and the tubes, though.”

“Of course you do,” I said, and then we made our way down that nice marble staircase and wandered around downstairs until we managed to wend our way into a large dining room whose doors were open, a gentle breeze wafting in from outside. We’d arrived at the fabled grounds of Casa Emerald, where the dogs of the house presumably all met up to do their business, as humans euphemistically like to call the doo-doo that dogs do.

“So weird that dogs are supposed to be these ultra-smart creatures and yet they still haven’t learned how to use a litter box,” said Dooley, taking the words right out of my mouth.

Immediately upon our arrival we spotted our first victim. It was a Chihuahua, and it was being led on its leash by a petite blond-haired woman I recognized as Abbey Moret, star of such movies asBlond Ambition 1 andBlond Ambition 2: Ambitiously Blonder. She was smoking a cigarette, staring off into the middle distance. The Chihuahua, meanwhile, sniffed around a nearby rosebush, lifted its hind leg and performed what is colloquially called a wee.

“Yuck, how disgusting,” Dooley said.

The mutt looked up when he overheard us, and said, in a surprisingly deep and rumbling voice,“Watch what you say, cats.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” said Dooley.

“You were commenting on my sanitary break,” he grumbled.

“The thing is, we would like to ask you a couple of questions. Mr. Mutt,” I said in as pleasant and deferential a tone as felinely possible.

“Call me August,” he said, sniffing his own wee.

“Yuck,” Dooley said, and I gave him a gentle shove. No need to antagonize what potentially might be an important witness to a potentially horrendous crime.

“So a woman died today,” I began.

“Yeah, I know. Terrible business, sirs. Just terrible,” said August.

“So what are your thoughts?”

The Chihuahua thought hard, judging from the way he puckered up his face.“Thoughts?” he said finally, as if surprised we assumed he had any.

“What do you think happened?”

“Well, she died, didn’t she? Took some kind of poison and died.”

Very enlightening.“Is that what your human thinks?” I asked, glancing up at Abbey, who was still frowning hard throughout her cigarette break.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what she thinks. She also thinks it’s probably good riddance, as she wasn’t particularly fond of the dead woman.”

“What does your master think?”

“Oh, he’s a little sad. I think he liked the dead woman.”

“Kimberlee,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name was Kimberlee.”

“It still is,” said Dooley. “I mean,” he added when I glanced over at him, “it’s not because she’s dead that suddenly she’s Jane Doe or something, right?”

Dooley was on fire today!“You’re absolutely right,” I said with an indulgent smile. “So your master liked Kimberlee, huh?”

“Yeah, he liked her a lot. In fact Abbey just caught him studying pictures of her on his phone and crying in his beard. No idea why. Maybe he’s allergic to lingerie, cause that’s all she was wearing in the pictures. Pretty weird, huh?”

“So do you think he liked liked her?” I asked.

“Liked liked her?”

“Did he like her the way he likes your mistress?”

“Oh, you mean did they kiss and hug and lie on top of each and make strange noises?”