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“Tell it to the judge,” said Chase, who proceeded to cuff the compelling man.

“Good riddance,” a voice spoke behind them. When Odelia turned she saw that they’d attracted quite the audience: Bobbie Hawe, Jasper Hanson, Nestor Greco and Dale Parson all stood watching as their colleague and competitor was led away by Chase and Alec. “I’ve always known there was something fishy about him,” said Nestor.

“Not me,” said Dale. “I thought he was a kind man. Kind to animals and children.”

“But not to interesting men,” said Bobbie. “He likes to blow us up for some reason.”

“Jealousy,” opined Jasper. “Plain and simple jealousy. Couldn’t stomach our success.”

“Anyone up for a drink at the bar?” asked Nestor. “I’m buying.”

And as Odelia watched the world’s most interesting men head to the staircase, a discussion broke out amongst them over who was buying whom what type of beer. She shook her head and followed Tracy Sting to her room, to check on those beer bottles.

“Good thing your uncle has such a great sense of smell,” Tracy was saying. “Otherwise we’d be dead right now. Blown to bits just like Burt.”

“We better not touch anything,” she said as she followed Tracy inside. She saw her uncle’s shirt and pants on the floor and smiled to herself. The bottles looked exactly as Curt had intended them to look: like actual bottles of Tres Siglas. She crouched down to take a closer look, careful notto come near the dangerous objects.

“What I don’t understand is why Curt would target me,” said Tracy, pulling on a blouse and buttoning it up. “What could he possibly gain by murdering me and Alec?”

Odelia shrugged.“Looks like he was working his way through the competition one by one. His next targets were probably those other most interesting men.”

“But why me? I’m not the competition.”

“Yeah, I don’t get that, either. Then again, who knows what’s in the mind of a killer.” She rose to her feet, and stepped away from the side table. “I’m sure Chase and Alec will make him talk. By this time tomorrow this whole ordeal will finally be over.”

Police people were now entering the room, anxious to‘seal the scene’ as they called it. Tracy nodded, then glanced at Odelia. “Any chance I can stay with you tonight? The hotel is booked solid, and Alec will probably be up all night questioning Curt Pigott.”

“Sure. If you don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I have a guest bedroom but my grandmother is staying with me at the moment.” She grimaced. “Don’t ask me why.”

“I won’t,” said Tracy with a smile. “Alec told me some of it.”

“He did, huh?”

“Yeah, for some odd reason he and I hit it off.”

They walked out of the room as more police walked in.“He’s a great guy,” said Odelia.

“He is, isn’t he? He’s funny and sweet and… very, very passionate.”

Odelia laughed.“He’ll be happy to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this interested in a woman since Aunt Ginny died.”

And then they were walking out of the hotel, and Odelia thought that this Tracy Sting wasn’t as bad as all that. She definitely wasn’t the murderous psychopath she’d initially taken her for. And then she found herself talking about her uncle, Tracy laughing at some of the stories, and before she knew it they were home and she was letting this perfect stranger into her house. And guess what? She didn’t feel like a stranger to her. Not anymore.

Chapter 33

I shot up and cried,“Eureka!”

I know. It normally never happens to me, either.

But once I was up, I was wide awake, and so were Dooley and Shadow and all the other animals in Vena’s nursery.

“I’ve got it!” I added for good measure. “It’s you,” I said, pointing at Shadow.

“Me? What did I do?”

“I don’t mean you—I mean your human.”

“My human? Burt?”

“Burt is dead, Max,” said Dooley, as gently as possible. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Not a nightmare,” I said enthusiastically. “A brainwave!”

“Sounds dangerous,” Shadow intimated. “Does it hurt?”

“I know who killed Burt!”

“It’s the strain, Max,” said Dooley. “You must have overtaxed yourself.”

“No, I mean it. It’s something you said.”

“Me?” asked Dooley.

“Not you—Shadow.”

“My shadow?”

“My name is Shadow,” said Shadow.

“I know,” said Dooley. “You told me—oh,” he added. “You meant Shadow not shadow.”

“Guys, will you quit yapping,” said the pink-eyed mouse. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, all this crap is disturbing my biorhythm,” chimed in the parrot hoarsely.

“It’s cats,” opined the hamster. “Always cats. They can’t stop prattling. Prattle, prattle, prattle. That’s why people hate cats but they all love a hamster. Hamsters are easy. We run on our little hamster wheel, snack from our little hamster nuggets and keep our traps shut.”

“Will you shut up already,” I told the Dr. Doolittle crowd. “I just solved a murder.”

“Typical,” mumbled the puppy. “Always bragging. That’s cats for you.”

“No, I really did. It was the boy that did it.”

“What boy?” asked the rabbit, paw pressed to his painful cheek. “I’m not following.”

“You don’t have to follow. It’s the kid that did it.”

“The kid? Who’s the kid?” asked the parrot.