eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

“An ultimatum, yes. This whole business with the Boggles obviously took Odelia by surprise. She probably hadn’t expected them to be so demanding.”

“Paying guests are always demanding,” said Harriet. “They expect the very best, and if they don’t get it they will leave a scathing review on Welp.”

“Yelp,” I corrected her.

“That’s what I said.”

“I think Airbnb has its own review system. No Yelp involved.”

“Okay, so let’s give them until tomorrow,” said Brutus. “But if things don’t improve within the next twenty-four hours, we’re out of here—agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, with a touch of reluctance, for I like the Pooles—they’re our family. Then again, Charlene is also family, and she probably wouldn’t dream of turning her home into an Airbnb or a spa resort.

“I like Charlene,” said Harriet. “She’s very classy, like me.”

“I also agree,” said Dooley, “but only if I can watch the Discovery Channel in Charlene’s place. Do you think she has a TV? I don’t remember.”

“Of course she has a TV,” said Harriet. “I’ll bet she has the latest model.”

“I don’t mind if it’s not the latest model,” said Dooley. “As long as it has the Discovery Channel.” He sighed deeply. “I’ll miss watching soaps with Gran.”

“I’ll miss a lot of things,” I said.

“Let’s not get mopey,” said Brutus. “We’ll still see the Pooles all the time. They can always come and visit.” He got up and stretched. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving and I’m going to see if I can get a bite to eat.”

And since the mention of food made my stomach rumble, I also got up, and in short order the four of us made our way downstairs and into the kitchen for a refreshing meal… until we saw that our bowls were completely devoid of kibble!

“Who did this!” Brutus cried, then directed his nose to the floor and sniffed. When he looked up again, there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “The Boggles,” he growled. “It’s those darn dogs again! They ate all of our food!”

And before we could stop him, he was off in search of the offending canines.

CHAPTER 14

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Chase had had a rough day. A man had been found stabbed to death, another shot to death, and a third bludgeoned to death, and even though he wasn’t supposed to lead investigations but be the guy steering his detectives from behind his desk, he’d still been compelled to go out into the field—literally, in this case—and do his bit for the good of the investigation. And so when he arrived home he was happy to sink down onto the couch and chill for a few minutes… until he discovered that two dogs had taken over his favorite couch!

“Odelia!” he cried. “What are these dogs doing here?!”

When no response came, he frowned and went in search of his wife. What he found instead was a large male with butter-colored floppy hair who looked like a clown. He was grinning at him, and as he extended his hand, said,“John Boggles, and you must be Mr. Poole.”

Chase stared at the man, and wondered if he’d walked into the wrong house. “The name is Kingsley, actually. Chase Kingsley. May I ask—“

“I wanted to thank you personally, Mr. Kingsley, for the hospitality you have shown me and my wife. Bravo, sir. Bravo.” And he started a sort of earnest slow clap that made Chase look around in search of Ashton Kutcher and his hidden camera. Was this some kind of practical joke? Was his father-in-law behind this?

A woman now descended from the stairs who wasn’t Odelia. She resembled a horse for some reason, and extended a frosty look at Chase.

“Darling, meet Chase Kingsley. Mr. Kingsley is Odelia’s husband.”

“Just the person I was hoping to see,” said the woman, displaying rows and rows of teeth. “I don’t know if your wife informed you that John has a bad back?”

“Threw it out in a game of cricket last fall,” said Mr. Boggle. “Sticky wicket.”

“At any rate, that bed simply won’t do. It sags in the middle. One night on that bed and Johnny will need surgery.”

“I don’t like surgery,” said the woman’s husband. “I hate being put to sleep.”

“So please arrange for a decent box spring, will you? Top of the line, please.”

“Good mattress makes all the difference,” Boggle confirmed. “Night and day.”

“And please be quick about it,” said the lady. “I want that mattress by tonight.”

“How about you, my blossom?” asked Mr. Boggle.

“I’ll survive,” said the woman with a grim look on her face. It made her look like a horse that lost the derby. “Though I’d appreciate it if you’d find a decent mattress for me as well. It doesn’t have to be as expensive as Johnny’s, but it does have to support my back in all the right places. Sleep is important, Mr. Pringles.”

“Kingsley,” Boggle supplied helpfully.