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“She’s also the head of the American AAA,” Odelia continued, “The Agony Aunt Association. But what Gran was doing there I don’t know. And she mentioned that Scarlett was with her and they’re working the investigation together if you please.”

Now that was a surprise. Gran and Scarlett have never liked each other. The fact that Scarlett once had relations with Gran’s husband probably had something to do with that.

“So who died?” I asked.

“Kirk Weaver,” said Odelia.

“No way. The cat whisperer?”

“Who’s Kirk Weaver?” asked Dooley. “Is he Cosmo’s husband?”

“Kirk is the host of a famous television show,” Odelia explained. “He visits people at home and helps them with their cats’ behavioral problems.”

“You mean he can talk to cats?”

“I doubt it,” said Odelia. “But he does have a good reputation as a cat whisperer.”

“He whispers to cats? Why? Does he have problems with his voice?”

“It’s just a way of describing a person who’s really good with animals,” I said. “Like a horse whisperer is great with horses, a dog whisperer is good with dogs, etcetera.”

“Is there also a mouse whisperer?” asked Dooley. “Because I think we might have mice again.”

Odelia groaned.“Not again.”

I confirmed Dooley’s suspicions. “I heard them last night. And I think it might be the same family as last time.”

“I thought they had all moved on to Marcie and Ted’s?” Odelia asked.

“Maybe they like a change of scene from time to time?”

“Well, looks like you guys have got your work cut out for you,” said Odelia blithely.

Now it was my turn to groan. For some reason humans always assume all cats are natural mousers. Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy the prospect of catching a lovable little furry creature and then eating it alive, like some cats are rumored to do. In fact I’d rather coexist in peace and harmony than resort to such acts of barbarism.

“Maybe we can ask Gabi,” Dooley suggested. “She seems to have all the answers.”

This made Odelia laugh, which was a good thing, for investigating murder is a tough job, and Odelia could use all the levity she could get before things got serious.

We’d arrived at the front gate of one of those big mansions the Hamptons are littered with, and I saw Gran’s car parked right outside the gate. Well, technically the little red Peugeot is Marge’s car, but more often than not it’s Gran who drives it. Badly, I might add.

We got out and Odelia pressed her finger to the buzzer. After she’d announced her arrival, the gate clicked open and she drove us down a short driveway leading to the house.

“Why did Gran park her car on the street?” asked Dooley. A very sensible question.

“She probably didn’t know she could park up at the house,” said Odelia. Gran isn’t as used to navigating the homes of the rich and famous as Odelia, who’s conducted her fair share of murder inquiries, often involving those same glitterati.

The house, squat and red-brick, was a modest one, compared to some of the ones I’d seen in my time.

We got out of the car and Gran appeared in the doorway to greet us. And as she walked up to us with a sense of urgency in her step, she lowered her voice and said,“I talked to Allison’s cat and she assures me there’s no way Allison’s niece could have done it.”

“So instead of calling Uncle Alec you called me,” Odelia deduced immediately.

“Of course! If I call Alec he’ll arrest the poor girl on the spot. And no judge will accept the testimony of a cat.”

“Or an old lady claiming she can talk to cats,” said Odelia, nodding.

“Hey. Who are you calling an old lady?”

“Sorry, Gran. So what were you doing here?”

Gran straightened a little.“Well, if you must know, Allison’s been looking for a cat sitter and so I figured I might apply for the job.”

“You want to be a cat sitter?”

Gran bridled.“Why? You don’t think I can do it?”

“No, of course you can, Gran. In fact you’re perfect for the job. But what about Dad?”

“Oh, I’ll keep on doing that, of course. Now are you coming in or what? Standing around here flapping your gums isn’t going to solve poor Kirk Weaver’s murder!”

Chapter 6

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, snow pea,” said Brutus.

“You’ll understand soon enough, snuggle pooh,” said Harriet, feeling more chipper and bright than she’d felt in ages. She was walking with purpose, a cat on a mission.

“Shouldn’t we have told Max and Dooley what we’re up to? They’re our best friends.”

“Sometimes it’s best for best friends to not be in the know,” she said. “And you know Max. He’ll only start to criticize the scheme.”

“I don’t think so,” said Brutus. “He could even help us. Max knows a lot of stuff.”

“Max is a male, Brutus, and males don’t know half the stuff females do. Besides, who’s going to listen to the advice of a male? No one, that’s who. So let’s keep this between us.”

“All right,” said Brutus, though he didn’t exactly sound convinced.