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“Everything’s to do with me,” she countered. “I’m a detective in my own right, and I want to see this man’s killer brought to justice.” She vaguely gestured in the direction of the stage, where Chris Ackerman’s body had already been removed by Abe Cornwall’s crew.

“Mom, you’re not a detective,” said Marge quietly.

“But I want to be.” She directed a cheerful look in Odelia’s direction. “Teach me?”

Odelia opened her mouth, then closed it again. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. “But-but-but…” she sputtered.

“That’s settled then,” said her grandmother, and hooked arms with her. “Let’s crack this case wide open, darlin’. And show those bad ‘uns what Poole women are made of.”

Dad made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, Mom looked stunned, Uncle Alec was rubbing his sideburns as if hoping to produce a genie that would spirit Grandma away for good, and Chase was trying not to laugh. All in all, Gran had probably produced the effect she’d been aiming for. Odelia thought her grandmother would have made a great actress. One of those divas of old, like Elizabeth Taylor or Bette Davis. She certainly knew how to hold an audience spellbound with her antics and her harebrained schemes.

They made for the exit, and as they walked out, Odelia nodded a kindly greeting at the officer guarding the door.“Hey, Jackson. Still hanging around, I see?”

Jackson went a little goggle-eyed.“How did you get in?”

“Magic,” said Odelia, doing the jazz hands thing.

“Don’t just stand there, Jackson,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “Make yourself useful.”

“Yes, sir,” said Officer Jackson, practically jumping to attention. He considered his superior officer’s words. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

Uncle Alec fixed him with a stern look.“Write up your report. I want it on my desk first thing in the morning. And make sure to leave nothing out.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson happily. Typing up reports appeared to be his strong suit.

As they proceeded down the few steps that led to the library’s courtyard, Uncle Alec grunted, “Told you you couldn’t go in, eh?”

“Yeah, he said you told him not to let anyone in so that’s what he did. You can’t blame him, really. He’s one of those people who refuse to think for themselves.”

“He’s an idiot,” Alec grumbled. “So how did you get in?”

“Back entrance. The same way the killer got in.”

Uncle Alec darted a quick look around, but Chase had already crossed the street, where he’d parked his car, and Mom and Dad and Gran stood arguing nearby. “What did your cats find out?” Alec asked, arching an inquisitive eyebrow and lowering his voice.

“So far nothing. Except for the letter from Ackerman’s publisher.”

“Mh. Abe would have found that eventually, but you’re right. Nice work.”

Odelia didn’t mention that Max and Dooley finding that letter had been a side-effect from falling on Chris Ackerman’s head. Sometimes accidents do happen, and in this case they’d produced a new lead.

She headed for her car, and as she got in, found herself facing her grandmother, who was sitting in the passenger seat, hands folded on top of her purse.“You should lock your car,” Gran said. “It’s a small miracle no one stole it.”

“It’s just an old jalopy. No one in their right mind would steal it. What are you doing here? I thought Uncle Alec told you to go home and get some sleep?”

“And I told that old fool that I was coming with you.” She pursed her lips. “You’ve got yourself a pardner, pardner. So put this car in gear and let’s catch ourselves a killer.”

Odelia shook her head as she jammed the key into the ignition.“From what I can gather the killer has been caught already. And he’s being processed as we speak.”

Gran didn’t look convinced. “If I know Alec he probably caught the wrong ‘un. So it’s up to us to catch the right ‘un. So step on it. Time’s a-wastin’ and the real killer is escapin’.”

Odelia clenched her jaw and started the car with a roar.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a barrel of laughs.

Chapter 12

Odelia and Gran stared through the one-way mirror while Uncle Alec and Chase interviewed the suspect who had just been arrested. Judging from his tattered clothes, his full red beard, and disheveled appearance, he was either a homeless man or a hipster.

“He doesn’t look like a killer,” Gran commented.

“What does a killer look like?” asked Odelia.

“It’s all in the eyes,” said Gran, gesturing at her own eyes. “A real killer has that dead, cold killer look. Looking into the eyes of a killer is like looking into the abyss. A cold abyss.”

Was there any other kind of abyss?“So have you looked into a killer’s eyes?”

“Oh, plenty of times. Leo was a killer, and I locked eyes with that man many times.”

“Leo Wetland? Your ex-boyfriend?”

“He was never my boyfriend,” snapped Gran. “We were lovers.”

Odelia decided not to ask what the difference was.“I didn’t know Leo was a killer.”

“Oh, sure. Leo was big on killin’. He once took out a wasp nest in his attic. Didn’t bat an eye. Cold-hearted killer.” She gestured at her eyes again. “Like looking into the—”