“Poor mice,” said Dooley, shaking his head. “No police to protect them, or punish their killers. Did you know that sometimes cats will actually eat the mice they catch, Max?”
“Yes, Dooley, I’ve also heard those horror stories.”
“But that’s cannibalism, Max!”
“No, it’s not. Cannibalism is when you eat the flesh of your own species. Mice are not cats, Dooley, so technically speaking it’s not cannibalism.”
“It’s still murder, Max. And I think the cats who commit murder should be thrown in jail for the rest of their lives. And the police should start to investigate their crimes.”
“Frankly I think humans have enough to deal with policing their own species. You can’t expect them to start policing other species as well. Next thing you’ll want them to start protecting flies from being eaten by spiders. Or worms from being eaten by birds.”
“We live in a terrible world, Max,” said Dooley, shaking his head sadly.
“Look, nature isn’t always fair, Dooley,” I said. “But you have to understand one thing: no bug or animal will ever kill another bug or animal just for the thrill of the kill. They do what they do to survive. In fact I think it’s fair to say that the only species that kills simply for funand sport is the human species.”
He was silent after that, then finally admitted,“You may have a point, Max.”
“Of course I have a point, Dooley.”
“I guess it’s a tough world out there, isn’t it?”
“Only if you forget to look on the bright side,” I reminded him.
“And what is the bright side?”
“That most humans are good and decent people, and that only the smallest minority ever resorts to things that are to be frowned upon.”
“Just like most cats are good and decent pets?”
“Exactly,” I said. Just then, we caught sight of Harriet and Brutus, with the former loudly explaining to Gran why she needed to have her name in large font above her new comic strip, and why she thought that me and Dooley should not feature in the comic at all, since we’d only distract the reading public from the main feature, which was her.
Okay, so even good and decent cats sometimes get lured over to the dark side by such things as an outsized ego and the attraction of fame and glory, but I had a feeling that even here nature would find it prudent to strike a balance, and make sure Harriet’s baser instincts wouldn’t be rewarded but in fact discouraged.
We finally arrived at the police station, and Odelia sailed right in, since the precinct is like a second office for her, ever since Uncle Alec had deemed her worthy to carry the title of civilian police consultant, and had even handed her a badge that goes with the position.
“The Chief is expecting you!” said Dolores Peltz from behind the reception desk. The raspy-voiced dispatcher gestured in the general direction of the double doors that led from the vestibule to the police precinct proper. “Though I’m not so sure he’ll be happy to see those cats of yours,” she added, giving me and Dooley a not-so-friendly look.
“I don’t care what makes him happy or not, Dolores,” said Odelia. “He just arrested a client of mine, without bothering to tell me.”
Dolores’s weathered face displayed a crooked grin. “I know, honey. Just walk on through. And ask him if he’s thought about fixing the darn AC. The thing is on the fritz again and I’m practically melting here!”
But clearly Odelia had other things on her mind than the precinct’s climate control situation, and without another word she marched through the double doors, Hester in tow, and moments later burst into Uncle Alec’s office. The big man looked a little hot under his collar, the few remaining hairs on his head plastered to his large dome, and patches of sweat visible under his armpits. A fan was blasting away in the corner of his office, and provided some measure of coolness, but clearly it wasn’t enough to keep the Chief’s dwelling sufficiently ventilated and its dweller not looking like a drowning victim.
“I talked to the AC guys three times already, but do you think they bother to show up?” he grumbled when Odelia and Hester took a seat in front of him. “Maybe I should have them all arrested and dragged into court for attempted murder by heatwave.”
“Why did you arrest Jayme Ziccardi?” asked Odelia, getting down to brass tacks without delay.
Uncle Alec’s expression turned grim. “Didn’t my officers read her her rights?”
“They did, but they failed to mention the reason for her arrest.”
“Damn rookies,” the Chief grumbled. He seemed to be in a grumbling sort of mood today. Then again, Odelia’s uncle is often this way. Probably comes with the job.
“So why was she arrested?” Odelia demanded. The Chief looked from his niece to Hester, and Odelia answered his wordless question by saying, “This is Hester Liffs, Jayme’s grandmother.”
“Does this have something to do with Veronica James?” asked the old lady, who looked a lot less combative than Odelia, which wasn’t surprising, since she’d just watched her beloved granddaughter being hauled off to prison like a common criminal.
“Why would you think that?” asked Uncle Alec with a frown.
“Because Veronica James barged into Jayme’s class Saturday and accused her of having an affair with her husband,” Odelia said.
“An affair, huh?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sakes, Uncle Alec, will you just tell us why you arrested the poor girl?”
“Murder,” said the Chief curtly.
“Murder!” Hester cried, bringing both hands to her face in a gesture of utter consternation. “Not… Veronica?”
Uncle Alec shook his head.“No, not Veronica. Dave James.”
“Dave!” Hester cried.
“You mean…” Odelia began.
Uncle Alec nodded.“Your dad found him. Head split open like a melon.”
“My dad found him?”
“Tex has been going over to Dave’s house every week for the past couple of months. Some health issues Dave was struggling with and your dad was helping him to overcome.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, about an hour or so ago?”
“Well, you can release Jayme right now,” said Odelia. “Because one hour ago Jayme was with me, so she couldn’t possibly have murdered Dave James.”
“Your dad found him one hour ago. We’re still trying to establish time of death.”
“Any ideas?”
“According to Abe it probably happened sometime between six and eight last night.”
“Oh, no,” said Hester.
Odelia immediately turned to Hester.“Wasn’t Jayme with you last night?”
“She was, but I had a bad headache, so I took an ibuprofen and went to bed early.”
“What time was this?”
“Around dinner time. Six o’clock.”
“And Jayme? What did she do?”
Hester hesitated, then decided the truth was her best friend.“Jayme always takes Woofle for his evening walks. I’ve told her it’s not safe for a young girl to walk the streets alone, but she says no one will attack her with Woofle by her side. He’s very protective.”
“Woofle?”
“Our labradoodle.”
“But why would you think Jayme is involved?” Odelia asked her uncle.
Uncle Alec glanced to Hester, and it was clear he wasn’t ready to divulge information critical to his investigation to a third party—a third party who was related to the suspect.
Odelia understood his wordless message, and took Hester’s hands in hers, then said, “Do you mind waiting outside for a moment? I need to talk to my uncle.”
Hester, who was clearly much disturbed, nodded quickly, and practically tottered out of the office. The moment the door was closed, Uncle Alec said,“Your dad found a piece of paper in Dave’s hand.”
“A piece of paper?”
“Yeah, a crumpled-up piece of paper. Blood all over it—his blood, I assume. And next to Dave there was a pencil, so we have reason to believe he managed to write the name of his killer.” He fixed his niece with an intent look. “Odelia, the name he wrote was Jayme.”