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They arrived at the entrance to what indeed was an estate, and she announced her arrival to the intercom located outside the tall gate. The gate swung open, and she directed her aged old car along the drive toward a sizable mansion and parked in the circular drive, her tires crunching the nice yellow gravel that looked like brown sugar.

“You know the drill, you guys,” she said as she opened the door. “You snoop around while I talk to the people in charge of this place.”

“Will do,” said Max, and both cats hopped out, Dooley keeping a close eye on the skies all the while.

The front door opened the moment she set foot on the first step of a granite landing and for a moment she was too startled to proceed: the man who greeted her at the door was… Franklin Harrison. “Hi,” said the apparition. “I’m Marvin Harrison. And you are Odelia Poole, of course. I read your articles all the time, Miss Poole. Please come in.”

He was a little stiff and serious, and his glasses gave him a bookish look, but otherwise he was the spitting image of his now dearly departed brother.

“You and Franklin were twins?” she couldn’t help blurting out.

“Yeah, we were identical twins,” Marvin confirmed as he led the way into a sitting room. “Born just two minutes apart, or at least that’s what my mother claims. Please take a seat. I’ll go and get Mother.”

She did as he suggested, but not before walking around the room and taking in the scene: the floor was marble, with a nice thick rug for warmth, and there were white columns supporting a ceiling that was adorned with intricate moldings. Paintings of horses decorated the walls, and large picture windows offered a terrific view of spreading greenery surrounding the house. Not a bad place to grow up, she thought. Strange, then, that Marvin’s brother had so gone off the rails, and met a terrible death.

She finally took a seat, and moments later Marvin returned with a matronly woman, her hair piled high on her head, dressed in long flowing robes that gave her a slightly oriental look, and wearing a stern look on her broad face. She lowered herself onto an upholstered chair and regarded Odelia like the Queen would regard a royal subject.

Marvin, dressed in a turtleneck and corduroy slacks, remained standing next to his mother’s chair. “You wished to talk to me?” said the woman a little haughtily, not exactly overflowing with joy about Odelia’s visit.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Francine Ritter came to see me this morning.”

Mother and son shared a look of concern.

“Yes?” said Mrs. Harrison a little stiffishly.

“It would appear she hasn’t received child support for the last six months, and she asked me to come and have a word with you, and maybe try to find a way to sort things out.”

“There’s nothing to sort out,” Mrs. Harrison snapped. “We don’t owe that woman anything.”

“But she’s the mother of your grandchildren.”

“That may be so but she’s also the main cause of my son’s ruin.”

“Mother, maybe we should first listen to what Miss Poole has to say,” Marvin suggested. He seemed more forthcoming about his ex-sister-in-law’s predicament than his mother.

“I will not,” said his mother, “listen to any of this nonsense. I blame that woman for Franklin’s death, and so she gets nothing—not a cent!”

“Why do you feel she’s responsible for your son’s death?” asked Odelia.

“Because ever since he met Francine, Franklin started down the path that led to his ruin.” Her face softened as she gazed upon a framed picture of her son. “Franklin was always such a sweet boy. We had high hopes for him, Herbert and I. But after he met Francine he changed. Gone was the fun-loving boy I knew and loved. He started drinking and using illegal substances and God knows what else. I didn’t recognize my own son!”

“Mother,” said Marvin warningly.

“No, Marvin, someone has to tell that woman what’s what, and clearly she’s chosen Miss Poole as her emissary.” She turned back to Odelia. “Is she taking us to court?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “I think she would prefer to deal with this amicably.”

“Amicably! There can be no amicability between us and Francine, Miss Poole.”

“But what about your granddaughters?” said Odelia, taking out her phone. She held it out, showing a picture of the two girls. They looked like two blond-haired little angels.

Mrs. Harrison momentarily seemed to relent, but then her expression hardened and she said, emphatically,“Those girls are not my blood.” And with these words, she majestically rose, and walked out.

Marvin took the seat his mother had vacated and gave Odelia an apologetic look.“I’m sorry,” he said, “but Mother feels very strongly about this. I talked to her before, and she feels that when Francine left Franklin she also forfeited any right she might have had to his money—our money. And now that he’s dead, well…”

“But surely she is entitled to the child support your brother owed her?”