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“Astra—oh, no!” the new arrival cried. I recognized her as Amalia Pulpweed, with Penney Langner and Natalie Skinner close on her heels. The three former costars of the dead woman now broke out into loud laments, clearly heartbroken about the death of the fourth member of their famous combo.

“Who did this!” Natalie demanded heatedly. “I’ll rip them to shreds! I’ll tear them limb from limb!”

“How could they,” Penney murmured, her face crumpling like a used tissue as tears rolled down her cheeks. “She was the best of us. She was the sweetest, the nicest, the funniest—”

“She was all that and much, much more,” Amalia agreed. “She was a legend. The best person I ever knew—ever worked with.” Then she stole a look in Odelia and Chase’s direction. “Are you in charge of the investigation?”

“Who did this!” Natalie roared, shaking her fist as she directed a scornful look at the ceiling, as if demanding an urgent answer from God himself. “Tell me!”

“It was the cat burglar,” Barney said quietly. “He committed this unspeakable act of villainy. He robbed Mrs. Jacobs and when she caught him in the act, he panicked and then he stabbed her. Viciously! With no regard for human life!”

There was a wail of agony from Penney, a stunned look from Natalie, and a frowny face from Amalia.“The cat burglar?” the latter asked. “What cat burglar? What are you talking about?”

“We haven’t told anyone, but a cat burglar is on the prowl,” said the manager, clearly ill at ease now that he was confiding his deepest troubles to these three famous women—his idols. “But we are on top of him. In fact I have just retained the services of America’s top investigator, Mrs. Odelia Kingsley, who is going to look into this and who will catch the criminal and bring him to justice.” He beamed at Odelia, who looked a lot less excited than the manager’s high praise warranted. “And her husband is a cop,” Barney added for good measure. “So there is that.”

“Huh,” said Amalia, studying Odelia and Chase with unveiled interest. “So you’re going to solve the murder of our friend?”

“I’m going to give it my very best shot,” Odelia promised.

“You’re American!” Penney gasped, and her face lit up with delight. “Oh, that’s so great.”

“Do you have a lead?” asked Natalie, her face a mask of stoicism. “Or are you simply groping in the dark?”

“I don’t have a lead as yet,” Odelia admitted. “But I’ve only just started.”

“Mh,” said Natalie, clearly unimpressed.

“If you could make yourselves available,” said Odelia. “I’d like to sit down with all three of you for a chat.”

“A chat!” Natalie cried, aghast.

“I’m okay with that,” said Penney with a weak smile.

“I’m afraid I have a pretty busy schedule,” said Amalia as she glanced at the dead woman. “A very, very busy schedule.”

“Surely you can spare some time to talk to this nice lady,” said Penney. “Especially when she’s just told us she’s going to catch whoever did this to our friend?”

Amalia rolled her eyes.“Oh, fine. I guess I can spare five minutes. Have your people call my people,” she told Odelia, “and let’s make this happen.”

“I’ll sit down with you right now if you want,” said Penney, ignoring the scoffing sound Natalie made.

“No, that’s fine,” said Odelia. “It’s late. We’ll do it tomorrow, if that’s all right with you.”

“Absolutely,” said Penney. She expelled a deep sigh. “I loved Astra. She was a real hoot.”

“Look, I don’t want to seem callous, but if you want to talk to me you’ll have to go through my lawyer,” said Natalie. “If he gives you the all-clear, fine. If not…”

Just then, a man staggered into the room, a broken look on his face. It was Oscar Kinetic, Agatha’s husband. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, dear God, no!”

“It’s true, Oscar,” said Penney, taking his hand.

“This isn’t happening!”

“It happened.”

“This can’t possibly be true!”

“I couldn’t believe it myself at first, but it happened, Oscar.”

“Not Astra!” the producer cried as he fell down to his knees at Astra’s feet and made to touch them.

Chase placed a forbidding hand on his shoulder, though, and tsk-tsked a little, and the producer withdrew his hands from the dead woman’s feet.

“Why is it always the best who go first?” asked Penney. I had the impression it was a rhetorical question, but Oscar answered it anyway.

“Because life isn’t fair, that’s why!” he bellowed, shaking an irate fist, then tapping his heart for some reason, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“He seems very upset, Max,” said Dooley.

“Yes, he does,” I said, eyeing the man closely.

“So do you think Agatha was right and he was having an affair with Astra?”

“I’m starting to lean that way myself,” I admitted.