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“No one sticks a pen in their own neck, Marge,” said Uncle Alec gruffly.

Odelia directed a censorious look at her uncle. He was a fine police officer, but his bedside manner left something to be desired. Uncle Alec, a rotund man with russet sideburns and an equally ruddy face, held up his hands in supplication and heaved his bulk out of the pirate ship. Since the ship wasn’t made for humans—and definitely not for outsized humans—it took Alec some wriggling and silent cursing before he managed to exit the ship, hike up his pants and stalk off.

“I’ll be over there—talking to my mother,” he muttered.

“Oh, honey, you have to figure out what happened,” said Mom the moment they were alone. She’d grasped Odelia’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “A man was murdered. In my library. Who would do such a thing?”

It wasn’t immediately clear whether she was talking about the murder or the fact that the killer had chosen the library as the place to do his or her dirty work, but Odelia decided to put her mother’s mind at ease. “I’m on it, Mom.” She darted a quick look around to see if Chase wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. “And so are the cats.”

“You enlisted the cats? So quickly?”

“I picked them up before I drove down here. They’re searching around for witnesses and clues as we speak.”

Her mother didn’t seem reassured by this evidence of feline sleuthing prowess. “Your uncle thinks this might be the work of a common thief. Chris Ackerman’s wallet is gone, and so is his watch, his phone and whatever other valuables he might have had on his person.”

“They probably came in through the service entrance while you weren’t watching,” said Odelia thoughtfully.

“I only let the man out of my sight for, like, half an hour or so! I was talking to Tex and your grandmother, checking the front of the library, when I heard a strange sound.”

“What sound?”

“Like a cry? That must have been the moment he was attacked. Oh, my goodness. To think we were so close to the killer. If only I hadn’t left Mr. Ackerman he might still be alive.”

“Or you might be dead, too,” said Odelia.

Her mother emitted a soft whimper.“What a horrible thing. And now people are going to say I did this—or your grandmother.”

“I’m sure they won’t.”

But her mother wasn’t listening. “At the very least they’ll accuse me of gross negligence. I allowed the world’s favorite writer to be murdered on my watch. At the library! Which is supposed to be a safe haven. A place where people come to be transported into another world.”

Chris Ackerman definitely had been transported into another world. Permanently. Odelia watched as Chase stood chatting with the coroner—presumably trying to wrangle an initial report from the man.

“How was your date, by the way?” asked Mom, her sad demeanor suddenly replaced with a more cheerful expression. “Did Chase finally pop the question?”

“Mom!”

“What? You’ve been dating for so long now it’s almost as if he doesn’twant to marry you.”

“Marriage is the furthest thing from our minds, Mom.”

“Oh, that bad, huh? At least tell me he broke the news to you gently.”

“What news?”

“That he’s seeing another woman.”

Odelia produced a frustrated noise at the back of her throat.“He’s not seeing another woman, Mom. And why would he ask me out on a date to break up with me?”

“It’s the proper way to end things. Go out on a high note.”

“He was working his way towards something, but it wasn’t a breakup.”

“So what was it?” She clasped her hands to her mouth. “He’s already married!”

“What? No! I think he was going to suggest we move in together, only you called and then Uncle Alec called and then we both had to leave.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey,” said Mom. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have called.”

“What are you talking about? It’s a good thing you did. This has been a very traumatic experience for you, Mom.” She patted her mother’s hand. “How is Gran taking it?”

Mom cocked an eyebrow in Gran’s direction. “She’s just fine. I think she’s even enjoying the whole thing. Something to tell her friends. Or write about on her blog.”

“Gran has a blog?”

“Blog or vlog. I’m not sure.”

“I’ll have a word with her.”

“About the blog?”

“About the murder.”

“Oh, right.”

Apparently the trauma had already worn off. Poole women were resilient, that much was obvious.

Chapter 7

There was a policewoman guarding the back entrance but she was A) smoking, which meant the door was conveniently propped open, and B) intently studying her smartphone, which precluded her from seeing two cats sneak in right under her nose.

“I didn’t like the sight of that, Max,” said Dooley.

“Me, neither. I’m not a taxpayer but it’s sad when cops are this negligent.”

He gave me a look of confusion.“I meant the storm clouds, Max. Extreme weather is a precursor to the apocalypse. Do you think they’ll allow us to enter New Zealand?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Johnny Depp’s dogs weren’t allowed to enter.”

“Pretty sure that was Australia, not New Zealand, buddy.”

“Phew,” said Dooley.