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“I don’t care. I just want to sleep,” said the mouse.

“Let’s blow this joint, fellas,” I said, suddenly feeling super-energized. I imagine that’s why Sherlock Holmes often came across as suffering from ADHD. Solving a murder gives you this big jolt of energy to the brain. I jumped from my nice fleece-lined perch with some reluctance. Then again, I owed it to my human to give her the good news at once.

“Do we have to, Max?” asked Dooley plaintively. “It’s so nice and warm in here.”

“Yeah, I kinda like it here, too,” said Shadow. “It’s way better than life on the street.”

“Don’t you want to see the guy who killed your human arrested?” I asked.

Shadow thought about that for a moment.“Is this a trick question?” When I gave her a stern look, she finally relented. “Oh, fine. I’ll play your little game. Where are we going?”

“Home,” I told her.

“To the hotel?”

“No, a real home.”

Dooley heaved himself up from his warm and comfy bed with a groan, then followed my lead.“You better be right about this, Max,” he said. “I could get used to a place like this.”

“What’s happening?” asked the mouse, apparently waking up from a micro-nap.

“The cats are leaving,” the parrot announced.

“Good riddance,” said the mouse, and promptly dozed off again.

Half an hour later we arrived at the house. Lucky for us Vena lives just around the corner. Cats aren’t made to travel for miles and miles. Especially on an empty stomach.

“Good thing Vena left her window open,” said Shadow, panting. “Or else we’d be screwed.”

“Or lucky,” Dooley muttered. He still wasn’t on board with this whole plan of mine. Even though Odelia had promised him that, babies or no babies, she wasn’t kicking us out, he wasn’t completely convinced. And Vena seemed like a good back-up plan just in case.

We waltzed in through the pet door and I traipsed straight up the stairs. Odelia was sound asleep, as I’d expected. And she was alone, which I hadn’t expected. No Chase. Where’s the police when you need them? I pawed her intently, and when she didn’t stir, used some claw to attract her attention. She pushed me away. “Not now, Max. I’m sleeping.”

“But I know who killed Burt Goldsmith,” I said, unable to contain my excitement.

“I do, too,” she said, turning over to the other side. “It was Curt. Curt killed Burt.”

That sounded more like a nursery rhyme to me, but then she was still half asleep.

“It wasn’t Curt—whoever he is—it was Philippe! Remember how you told me Chase said nitroglycerin gives you terrible headaches? Well, guess who has terrible, debilitating headaches? Philippe! And guess who’s a chemistry teacher? Also Philippe! And guess whose room was next to Burt’s, with a connecting door. You guessed right! Philippe again! Shadow—oh, you haven’t met Shadow, have you. She’s Burt’s cat. She was at Vena’s. You’ll like Shadow, Odelia. She’s very nice. So Shadow told us she heard someone enter the room after room service dropped off that bottle of beer. I’m guessing it was Philippe, replacing the original bottle with one filled with nitroglycerin. He must have snatched that first bottle from the sap he’d chosen as his fall guy, leaving it in the room with the explosive bottle so this dude’s fingerprints would be found at the scene. So you better arrest him now, Odelia!”

My long harangue was met with a soft snore. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of my expos?! Dang. I’ll bet a thing like that never happened to Hercule Poirot when he delivered his closing statement, neatly wrapping up another case. Or Sherlock Holmes, for that matter.

I jumped down from the bed, and then trotted down the stairs.

I found Dooley and Shadow staring at a lumpy form on the couch.

“You guys, Odelia is out like a light. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Max? There’s a strange woman on our couch,” said Dooley.

I checked the lumpy form and discovered that Dooley was right. There was a strange woman on our couch.

“It’s Tracy,” said Shadow. “Tracy Sting. She was my human’s handler.”

“Handler? You mean like a dog handler?” asked Dooley.

“Something like that. When Tracy said jump Burt asked ‘how high?’ Or at least that’s the joke he liked to make. He was very fond of her. She’s good people, Tracy is.”

“But what is she doing in our house?” I asked.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” said Dooley with a yawn. “Let’s sleep. I’m tired.”

Just then, Brutus and Harriet walked in through the pet door.“Who’s that?” Brutus asked, gesturing in the general direction of the couch.

“Burt Goldsmith’s handler,” I said.

“No, I mean the cat, not the dame.”

“My name is Shadow,” said Shadow courteously. “I was Burt’s cat. Which means now I’m nobody’s cat.”

“Oh,” said Harriet. “That’s so sad.” She turned to us. “Where have you guys been?”

“Long story. Dooley ate some of Brutus’s pills and passed out.”

“Brutus’s pills?” asked Harriet. “What pills?”