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We both looked up and saw that none other than Clarice was addressing us from the top of the nearest dumpster.

“Clarice!” cried Dooley. “It’s so great to see you!”

It was hard to determine whether the feeling was mutual. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it wasn’t. Her next words confirmed this.

“If you’re here to steal my food I can tell you right now I will beat you and I will kick you and when I’m done beating and kicking you I will scratch you and then I will bite you.”

Yep. That’s Clarice in a nutshell: a no-nonsense feral cat who’d just as soon cut you to ribbons than give you a hug. Life on these Hampton Cove mean streets will teach you that. Or at least that’s what she keeps telling us.

“We’re not here to steal your food,” I assured her.

“You’re looking great, Clarice,” said Dooley with a grin.

She had a fresh scratch across her nose, and her mottled red hide featured more bald spots than the last time I’d seen her, but she did look slightly fuller. Then again, I knew for a fact that Odelia left food out for her from time to time, so she didn’t really have to dumpster-dive for a living if she didn’t want to. I guess she wanted to. Or maybe it had become a force of habit.

“You look terrible,” growled Clarice. “And so do you, Max. You’re fat. How much do you weigh these days? A hundred pounds?”

“I’ll have you know that twenty pounds is the new ten pounds,” I said haughtily.

“Max isn’t fat,” said Dooley. “He’s a cat of substance. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Exactly right.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Clarice. “What are you morons doing here?”

“We’re looking for clues,” said Dooley.

“Witnesses,” I corrected him. “We looked for clues before.”

“And we found one,” said Dooley. “He was dead and had a pen sticking out of him.”

“That wasn’t a clue—that was the victim,” I said. “Terminology is everything, Dooley.”

“So are you a witness, Clarice?” asked Dooley.

“A witness to what?” she growled, casually licking her paw.

“A man was murdered inside the library tonight,” I explained. “A famous thriller writer called Chris Ackerman. The killer most likely snuck in through the back entrance. So now we’re trying to locate anyone who might have seen this killer—an eyewitness.”

“What do you care that humans get killed?” asked Clarice with a frown.

Clarice had a grudge against humans. Ever since her own human dumped her in the forest on the outskirts of town, she hasn’t forgiven him—or the entire species he belonged to. Though to be honest, what human would dump a beloved pet? A human like that probably doesn’t even deserve to be called human. Unhuman, maybe? Or inhuman?

“Odelia asked us to investigate,” I explained. “And when Odelia asks us to do something, it’s a privilege and a pleasure for us to comply.”

“We love our human,” said Dooley fervently. “We’d do anything for her.”

Clarice was shaking her head.“So dumb,” she muttered, and hopped down from the dumpster. And as she started stalking off, she turned and said, “Ask Big Mac. I saw him skulking around here earlier this evening. Chances are he saw something.”

“Big Mac?” I asked. “Who’s Big Mac?”

“Big fat cat like you,” she said. “You’ll like him. It’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Where do we find this Big Mac?” I asked, deciding not to be triggered by this slur.

“McDonald’s. Where else?” And then she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness.

We sat staring after her for a moment. I could feel chills running down my spine.

“She just disappeared, Max,” said Dooley reverently. “How does she do that? Do you think she’s a ghost?”

“She’s something, all right.”

“I’m just glad she’s on our side.”

I wasn’t absolutely sure she was on our side. With Clarice you just never know.

“At least she gave us a very important clue,” said Dooley.

“A witness,” I corrected him.

“A clue to a witness,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong this time.

Chapter 11

Uncle Alec put down his phone. He was looking grim.

“Chase. Better come along,” he snapped. “They found him.”

“Found who?” asked Odelia.

“The killer.” He turned to Odelia’s mom. “With any luck this’ll all be over tonight, honey.”

“That would be great,” said Mom.

“Can I tag along?” asked Odelia as her uncle and Chase made for the door.

“Sure. Why not?” said the Chief. “You better go home,” he added for Mom, Tex and Gran’s sake. “No sense in sticking around here.”

“But I have to close the library,” said Mom. “I can’t just leave it open all night.”

“My people will close up shop, Marge,” said Uncle Alec with a smile. “You go on home and try to get some sleep. You, too, Ma. Can you make sure they get home safe, Tex?”

“Will do,” Odelia’s dad confirmed.

“I’m gonna tag along with you, Alec,” said Gran.

All eyes turned to the old lady.

“What? Odelia can come and I can’t? This is ageism pure and simple.”

Uncle Alec grimaced.“This is police business, Ma. Nothing to do with you.”