“Max,” said Gran, and when I didn’t respond the first time, she repeated, “Max! You’re over there.”
Like an automaton I did as I was told, and stood where she told me to stand.
“And now… action!” she said, and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness, and I wondered how she was going to create a comic strip without any light. Then again, I’d already learned not to question Gran’s artistic choices, since it only got the old lady worked up if I did.
And just when my thoughts once more returned to the case, suddenly I experienced a sort of wet sensation against my lips. And when I frowned and wondered what this could possibly be, suddenly Brutus’s voice rang out, “Hey, why are you kissing Max!”
The lights were switched on, and indeed Harriet was right there, kissing me!
When she realized her mistake, she immediately jerked back, which I have to admit stung me to some degree, or at least my frail ego, and said, “Max! Why did you kiss me!”
“I didn’t kiss you,” I said. “I was just standing where Gran told me to stand.”
Gran had been consulting her notes.“Um… I think I made a mistake, you guys. Brutus was supposed to stand where Max is standing, and you, Max, are supposed to stand over there.”
“Max!” said Brutus. “What the heck!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, even though it wasn’t exactly my fault.
And as Scarlett and Gran studied the script once more, and then made us take up our new positions, suddenly I had one of those brainwaves you always hear so much about, but which happen so rarely they’re presumed a mere myth. The lights had been turned off again, but inside my head the light had gone on, so to speak, and was burning brightly!
“I got it!” I cried therefore.
“And I’ll get you if you kiss my girl one more time, Max,” Brutus growled in my ear.
And so I decided to keep my tongue for now, since my position was obviously a precarious one, and I didn’t want to risk Brutus’s ire.
“This isn’t working,” Scarlett finally announced.
“What do you mean?” asked Gran.
“It’s too dark! You won’t be able to see a thing!”
“But that’s exactly the idea. This is a photo comic in the dark.”
“Yeah, but with a regular comic strip at least you can draw eyes and contours, but with a photo strip you won’t be able to see a darn thing.”
“Mh,” said Gran. “I guess you’re right. So what do you suggest?”
“I suggest that we do the shoot over again, only this time we keep the lights on.”
“But the joke is about the fact that it’s dark!”
Twin sighs from the creative department told me that creating a photo comic isn’t as easy as it sounds. But since I had other, more important things to do right then, I decided to take advantage of the darkness to sneak out and go and tell my human that I might have found a solution for Jayme’s predicament.
Somehow I had the impression that a girl who’s on the verge of going to prison is just a tad more important than a silly photo comic.
And also: I keenly felt that creating some distance between myself and Brutus was a healthy thing to do!
Chapter 27
The living room of Flint Kutysiak and his husband Julio was starting to feel familiar, since it wasn’t the first time that we’d been there, but my main focus was another part of the house, and so while Chase and Odelia sat down with Flint and Julio, Dooley and I snuck off in search of something else. Or, more precisely, someone else. And we hadn’t been searching long before we hit the jackpot.
“We should have done this the first time we came,” I told Dooley when we both picked up a very peculiar smell and let our noses be our guides. Up the stairs we went, and into what looked like a home studio Flint had set up, and where presumably part of his production for Tollie the Turtle was done.
But since this wasn’t the source of the smell, we moved into the next room, which had originally been a spare bedroom from the looks of things, and had now been turned into the new home of… a very large turtle, who was sleeping peacefully when we walked in.
“Is that…” Dooley whispered.
“Tollie the Turtle,” I said, relieved that my hunch had played out.
The turtle lifted his head when he became aware of our presence, and glanced in our direction with rheumy eyes. He was about three feet long and two feet wide, so a pretty large pet to take into your home, but Flint and Julio had made the necessary accommodations.
“And who are you?” asked the turtle, in a not unfriendly tone.
“My name is Max,” I said. “And this is Dooley.”
“And we’ve come to save you, Tollie,” said Dooley eagerly.
“Save me? Save me from what?” asked the turtle in a croaky voice.
“Save you from the people who kidnapped you,” I said.
“I was kidnapped?”
“Yes, you were.”
“Well, that explains things. I was wondering why I wasn’t in my usual environment anymore.” He frowned. “You know what I miss the most? My backyard. Flint is nice, and he feeds me grass, but it hasn’t been the same.”
“You’ve been cooped up in here all this time?” I asked.
“Pretty much. They open a window from time to time, but I’d much rather go outside, of course.” He gave us a smile. “Dave is the best. He takes good care of me. We go back a long time, you know. Did you know I first met Dave fifty years ago? I still remember the day. This was back on the island. And then of course he brought me here to live with him.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Dave is no longer with us, Tollie,” I said.
“I know,” said Tollie. “I could feel it in my bones.”
“I didn’t know turtles had bones,” said Dooley.
“Of course we do. What do you think keeps all of those organs in place? Jelly?”
“I watch the Discovery Channel all the time,” said Dooley, “but I guess I missed the episode about turtles.”
“So what’s going to happen to me?” asked the centenarian.
“I don’t know, Tollie, but I can assure you that you will be taken care of. In fact there are so many people who love and adore you that they’ll be only too happy to give you anything that your heart desires.”
“My old heart doesn’t desire much. Just to go home, and lie in my patch of backyard.”
“I think we’ll be able to make that happen,” I said. Then I shared a look with Dooley, and we both returned to the living room, to give Odelia the sign we’d agreed upon.
She caught it, and said,“Now then, Julio, you said that you think Danny may have been involved in Dave’s murder.”
“That’s right,” said Julio, who was sitting primly on the couch, his fingers intertwined with his husband’s.
“Do you have concrete evidence to make such a claim?”
Julio took a quick look at his husband, and even though Flint almost imperceptibly shook his head, he decided to forge ahead.“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, detectives.”
“Julio, what are you doing?” Flint whispered.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” said Julio, patting the artist’s hand. “I don’t want Jayme to go to jail while that rotten kid gets off scot-free. We need to step up now, and rally round.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell you how I know that Danny killed his stepfather. The day that Dave was killed, Flint came home, the poor thing, dressed in just his underwear and his socks.”
“What do you mean?” asked Odelia.
“Danny had stolen his clothes! He’d gone swimming in Lake Mario, like he often does, and when he swam back to shore he saw that that rotten kid had taken all his clothes!”
“But how do you know it was Danny?” asked Chase.
Julio rolled his eyes.“Isn’t it obvious? That kid hates us. He wanted Dave to fire Flint because a gay artist is a bad influence, so obviously he followed him and decided to play a nasty little trick on him and so he took his clothes. It just goes to show the kind of kid he is. So is it any wonder that he killed hisstepfather? They probably got into some kind of argument, maybe over Dave’s refusal to fire Flint, and so the kid got mad and then he got even by picking up the first thing he saw and hitting Dave over the head with it.”