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“This is Chase Kingsley,” Barnabas Sheffield supplied. The hotel manager had surreptitiously snuck in behind the Inspector. “An esteemed guest of my hotel. He is in fact a police officer, just like yourself,Inspecteur Giblet.”

Giblet’s eyes raked Chase’s form, then he said, “So you are a cop, eh?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Chase, crossing a pair of burly arms in front of a pretty large chest. “And may I ask what right you have to come barging into our room in the middle of the night?”

“A woman was murdered,” said the Inspector, who was dressed in a beige trench coat that had seen better days. His cheeks were graced with a five o’clock shadow, which was apt, since it was now going on five o’clock, his eyes were hooded and his demeanor gruff. “And we have reason to believethis woman killedthat woman.” For good measure he pointed a stubby, nicotine-stained finger to Agatha, just so there would be no mistake which woman he was referring to.

Agatha gasped in shock, and if she hadn’t been holding on to Odelia, she would have collapsed to the floor.

“A murderer! Me!” she cried. “You must be mad!”

“This is the knife I personally yanked out of the corpse of Astra Jacobs,” the Inspector rasped, “and you just told me you recognized it. It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Agatha hesitated, but then finally nodded.“I-it was a present from my husband’s crew. But I didn’t bring it with me, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying not only did you travel to Paris with this knife but you used it to stab and murder Astra Jacobs!”

“No!”

“Yes. And what’s more, someone saw you flee the scene of the crime just now, the blood of the victim still on your hands!”

“But I never—I mean I didn’t—”

“I think you better stop talking now, Agatha,” Chase advised.

“That’s cute,” the French cop growled. “Spoken like a true colleague.”

“We’ll get in touch with the embassy and arrange a lawyer for you,” Chase continued, ignoring the inspector.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Agatha insisted.

“So how do you explain the blood and the presence of your knife?” asked Giblet.

“When I saw Astra I immediately felt for a pulse, even though I could tell that she was probably dead. I must have gotten some of her blood on my hands. But I swear to you I didn’t kill her. She was already dead when I got there.”

“A likely story,” the Inspector sneered as he gestured to one of his people who had stood back all this time but now stepped to the fore, a pair of shiny handcuffs dangling from his fingers and clearly eager to apply them to Agatha’s wrists.

“Agatha Kinetic, you’re under arrest for the murder of Astra Jacobs!”

This time Agatha was too stunned for speech, and just stood there while the police officer shackled her, took her by the arm, and started leading her away.

“Where are you taking her?” asked Chase.

“None of your business,” said Inspector Giblet with a faint grin. Then he strode up to Chase and looked him straight in the eye. “And if I find that you’ve been tampering with evidence or are in any way connected with this crime, I won’t hesitate to haul you in as well, cop or no cop. Is that understood, Mr. Kingsley?”

“Now, really,” Barnabas murmured.

“And that goes for you, too, Mrs. Kingsley,” the inspector said as he addressed Odelia.

“And for us?” asked Dooley, who was eyeing the inspector closely and obviously was very ill at ease at the prospect of being hauled in for murder.

“Cats are rarely accused of the crimes of men, Dooley,” I said. “So I think we’re in the clear.”

“But if they arrest Odelia and Chase, what’s going to happen to us, Max! We’re in a strange place, in a strange country, surrounded by very strange people!”

“They’re not that strange. They’re just French,” I pointed out. “Besides, I don’t think anyone is going to arrest Odelia or Chase. They haven’t done anything.”

“But Agatha hasn’t done anything either, and still she’s being arrested.”

“Just a miscarriage of justice that will be cleared up in no time, I’m sure,” I said. Though of course there was always the chance that Agatha really was guilty, and had been lying to us and putting on a convincing act. Murderers are funny that way.

Though to be absolutely honest, I didn’t think so. Somehow I had the impression she was innocent. Which meant that someone was trying to frame her.

But who? And why?

CHAPTER 10

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The door slammed shut and we were alone once more. And that probably should have been that, were it not for Odelia looking extremely thoughtful.

“Uh-oh,” said Chase. “I know that look. You’re thinking about getting involved, aren’t you, babe?”

“I don’t know, Chase,” said Odelia, “but doesn’t it strike you as extremely unjust, the behavior of that French cop and the way he treated Agatha?”

“Like the man said, it’s none of our business,” said Chase as he picked up the blood-soaked washcloth and took it into the bathroom. “Even though I promised to contact the embassy on Agatha’s behalf, I’m sure Oscar Kinetic has enough money to pay for the best legal aid that money can buy. Agatha will be just fine.”