“Yeah, but will Odelia be prepared to take that chance?”
“If I make her enough money? Of course she will!”
Oh, brother.
Dooley had stretched himself out next to me, and while Harriet and Brutus were talking bitcoin—or HarrietCoin—my friend seemed to have other, more important matters on his mind. “When that baby comes, Max, do you think we’ll still be allowed to sleep at the foot of the bed?”
“Of course.”
“Because… I’ve heard that parents of babies stop sleeping, Max. They stay up all day and all night. And if Odelia and Chase don’t sleep, we won’t get any sleep either.”
“Of course they sleep. Humans can’t go without sleep, Dooley. They’d die.”
“Die! Oh, no!”
“Which is exactly why they have to sleep. And they will. Sleep, I mean—not die.”
“But I had it from a good source.”
“What source?”
“Kingman. He said that parents of newborns never sleep.”
“And how would Kingman know? His human doesn’t have babies.”
“Kingman knows everything, Max. It’s uncanny.”
Well, that’s true enough, I suppose. Kingman does know a lot about a lot of things. “I’m sure that everything will be all right,” I said, yawning and stretching.
Dooley didn’t get the message, though, for he continued, “If they don’t sleep, and don’t allow us to sleep, we’ll have to move in with Marge and Tex, Max.”
“We don’t have to move in with Marge and Tex.”
“If we want to get some sleep, we’ll have to move in with them. But Harriet and Brutus sleep at the foot of their bed. And so we’ll have to sleep with Gran. But her bed is too small. There’s no room for the both of us, so one of us will have to sleep on the couch.” He gave me nervous glances. “We’ll be split up, Max! We won’t be together anymore!”
“We’ll always be together, buddy,” I said sleepily. “Maybe we can both sleep on the couch. How about that?”
His furry face lit up.“You think?”
“Of course. We’ll sleep on Marge and Tex’s couch. Until the baby is old enough. And then we’ll move back to Odelia’s bed again.”
“Oh, Max,” said my friend, giving me an impromptu hug. “You’re so smart!”
And then I finally did nod off, and as I did, suddenly a bright idea occurred to me, and I was wide awake again.
Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner!
Chapter 11
Kristina Careen wasn’t exactly feeling on top of the world. When the police suddenly drop by and start accusing your husband and son of murder, the experience isn’t an enjoyable one. She’d been trying to get the police to take an interest in their plight for over a decade, and now all of a sudden the police wereshowing an interest, but for all the wrong reasons!
She had breakfasted with Dominic and Rick, before they’d left for work, and now she had the house all to herself again, and she soon found herself relaxing to a slight degree. She was sipping from her cup of coffee and looking out across the street, with its passersby. The first wave of the day had passed, with its school kids and people hurrying toget to work, and now the second wave was about to start with people going shopping, delivery services delivering their wares, the postman doing his rounds, and plumbers, roofers and electricians arriving to fix the myriad things in a house that can go kaput.
In other words: a day like all others. There was a certain calm that came with the routine, a calm she’d come to appreciate. It soothed her nerves, and actually she preferred weekdays over weekends. She liked the busyness of a regular day—the fixed routine.
So when the mail slot in the door rattled, she welcomed it like an old friend. When she went over to check, she saw that a thick brown envelope lay on the mat. She frowned, wondering what it could be. She hadn’t ordered anything, and the only thing she could think of was that Rick had bought something online again. He was always buying stuff.
She opened the package and found a black leather-bound notebook inside. And when she opened it, she found lists of numbers and dates—names and strange scribblings. The notebook was charred at the edges, but its contents had been preserved by the sturdy leather covering. A little hand-written note had been added. It said: ‘I thought this might be of interest to you. Make sure you check October 14. Good luck—a well-wisher.’
A little shock had run through her system at the mention of that particular date. It was the day after Poppy’s death. She leafed through the notebook with nervous fingers, until she landed on the date mentioned by the ‘well-wisher’ and found herself staring at the entry. It took a moment for its significance to reveal itself to her, but when it finally did, she gasped, then immediately reached for her phone and dialed a now-familiar number.
“Odelia?” she said. “Can you come over? I have something you need to see.”
Chapter 12
Odelia found the way to the Careens easily. Unlike the first time, she didn’t even need her GPS. Chase was at the office, and since Kristina had sounded very insistent that Odelia come over immediately, she felt she better do as she asked and hadn’t informed her husband.
“It could be a trap,” Dooley said in the car on the drive over. “The Careens killed that insurance man and now they’re going to kill every single witness to their crime!”
“I very much doubt that that’s the case, Dooley,” I said.
“But she’s pregnant, Max! We have to protect her lump!”
“And we will protect her bump. We’re right here for her, aren’t we?”
My friend was only slightly mollified by this, seeing as two cats don’t exactly an army make. Then again, we couldn’t very well ask Chase to accompany us everywhere we went, now could we? The man had other things to do as well, and being his wife’s bodyguard was going to become a full-time job if it was up to Dooley.
We arrived there posthaste, and Kristina opened the door even before Odelia applied index finger to doorbell.“You have to see this,” she said, and hurried into her cozy little home, then proceeded to hand Odelia a little black book, turned to a specific page. The little black book looked like it had been through the wars, but it was still readable enough.
Odelia sat down on a chair and studied the page indicated with a frown.“This looks like something a garage owner wrote,” she said finally. “Pieces ordered, work done on cars, prices worked out…”
“Look here,” said Kristina, and stabbed a finger to the page heading.
“October 14,” Odelia read, then looked up with a puzzled expression.
“Poppy was killed October 13,” said Kristina.
Odelia slowly took in the rest of the page.“Green Mustang. New front bumper and grille,” she read. “Dent repair and paintwork right front fender.”
“It’s the car that killed Poppy,” said Kristina. “I’m sure it is. Look at the first page.”
Odelia turned to the first page.“Jefferson Gusta. Gusta Garage,” she read.
“Don’t you see? The person who hit my little girl had their car fixed first thing. New bumper, new fender, bodywork, paint job. And all off the books.” She tapped the little black book. “Gusta Garage must have done this kind of off-the-books jobs all the time. This is for one month only, sohe must have kept a separate account for the money he received under the table. And the car that was used to kill Poppy was one of them.”
“How did you get a hold of this?” asked Odelia.
“It came in the post this morning,” said Kristina, and showed Odelia the envelope it had arrived in.
“There’s no stamp,” said Odelia. “Which means the person who delivered this must be connected to the Gusta Garage.”
“Oh…” said Kristina, taken aback. “I thought the mailman…” She looked up and stared in the direction of the hallway. “So whoever delivered this…”
“Is someone who wishes you well,” said Odelia, tapping the little note that had been in the envelope along with the notebook.