“How can I be neither?” said Joey, plunking down on its tush.
“We met a person in Paris who was neither a boy or a girl,” Dooley explained.
“Well, if you must know, I’m a girl,” said Joey. “Though I’m not sure if it’s any of your business.” She was still eyeing us with distinct hostility, so I felt we needed to address the situation if we were to make any progress here today.
“Look, we’re not here to stay,” I told her. “Or to invade your space. We’re here because a man died last night, and we think he was murdered. And now we’re trying to figure out who could have murdered him. And since your human knew this man, we wanted to have a chat and see what she knows.”
Joey gave me a look of surprise.“Someone was murdered? Who?”
“Michael Madison,” I said. “The publisher ofGlimmer magazine?”
“I knowGlimmer,” said Joey. “Ona used to work for them a lot.”
“She was on the cover twelve times!” said Dooley, who’d listened carefully when Odelia had given us our brief for this interview. “The most times any model was featured onGlimmer—ever.”
“And Ona kept every single cover, framed on the wall of her study.” Then Joey’s furry little face sagged. “Or at least she used to. Now they’re all packed up in a crate somewhere, locked up in storage—probably forever. She removed every single photograph of herself and every single mirror from the apartment after…”
“After the incident,” I said, nodding.
Joey glanced over her shoulder.“It was a sad day when it happened, and Ona still hasn’t recovered. We used to travel the globe, you know, she and I. One week we were in Thailand for a shoot on the beach, the next in Paris for a shoot with the Eiffel Tower as backdrop, or Bermuda or Senegal or Switzerland. It was a jet-setting life and all great fun… As long as it lasted.”
“She doesn’t leave the apartment anymore?”
“Hasn’t set foot outside since… the incident.”
“Doesn’t eat out? Doesn’t receive visitors?”
“Nothing. No one is allowed, not even her siblings or her mom and dad. She doesn’t want to see anyone—or anyone seeing her. Even the kid who delivers her meals isn’t allowed to see her. He leaves the box in the hall, and she won’t come out until he’s gone. It’s a sad, sad life, Max and Dooley. And very, very lonely.” She gave us a weak smile, and for the first time I sensed the little doggie’s loneliness.
“So maybe she should get you a companion?” Dooley suggested. “A Brussels sprout, maybe?”
“A Brussels sprout is a vegetable, Dooley,” I explained.
“Oh, so maybe a Paris Griffon? Or a London Griffon?”
“Forgive my friend,” I told Joey. “He’s just trying to be helpful.”
“I know,” said Joey. “And I appreciate it. I’ve told Ona a million times to find me a friend, but unfortunately she doesn’t speak our language.”
“Maybe we could tell Odelia,” Dooley suggested. “And she could tell Ona.”
“Who’s Odelia?”
“Our human,” I explained. “And she does speak our language.”
“Oh, if you could do that for me?” said Joey, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve been dreaming about having some company for so long. It would be like a dream come true. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I adore Ona. But having a friend to talk to would be so nice.”
“We’ll make it happen,” I promised the little fluffball. “So one important question, Joey: where was Ona last night?”
“Right here, of course. I told you, she never leaves the apartment.”
“Just like Greta Garbo,” said Dooley.
“Not quite. Garbo was often out and about, walking all across New York. She liked peace and quiet, but she wasn’t a recluse, like Ona has turned into.”
We were silent for a moment, as we looked at the still statuesque figure of Ona gracefully gliding up to us, as if she was on the catwalk. She knelt down, and placed a bowl filled with what looked like balls of meat in front of us.
“That’s my favorite food!” Joey cried. “Straight from the best caterer in town!”
“Well, dig in,” I said. I know I was going to. All this talk, and especially climbing that fire escape, had given me a serious appetite.
And so the three of us shared this delicious meal.
“What’s in this?” asked Dooley when the last meatball had been eaten. “Cause Max and I are vegetarians, you see, so we don’t eat meat.”
Joey frowned at my friend.“These are meatballs, Dooley.”
“Uh-huh. So what’s in these meatballs?”
“Why, meat, of course.”
Dooley laughed.“Meat doesn’t look like that. No, seriously. What’s in it?”
I interrupted,“So you’re one hundred percent sure Ona didn’t leave the apartment last night?”
“One thousand percent. Unfortunately.”
“Not even to go for a midnight stroll around the block?”
“Not even for a midnight stroll.”
“So who takes you out for a walk?”
“She’s hired a dog walker. A very nice lady who loves dogs.” She smiled. “In fact it’s the only time I get to socialize. Apart from now with you guys, of course.”
I had one more obligatory question to ask.“Can you think of anyone who would hurt Michael Madison, Joey?”
“Apart from Ona, you mean?” She thought for a moment. “Not really. He was well-liked, as far as I know. In fact Ona liked him a lot, too. Until he told her to have this operation.”
“But why? Wasn’t she beautiful enough?”
“I thought she was. But what do I know? I’m just a dog.”
“Sometimes beautiful people want to look even more beautiful,” said Dooley. “And then they have cosmetic procedures they don’t really need. It’s sad, really.”
“It is sad,” said Joey.
We studied Ona, as she sat on a lounge chair on her balcony, reading a book and sporting oversized sunglasses that obscured the upper portion of her famous face.“Maybe a new medical procedure can undo the damage that was done?” I suggested.
“Ona has consulted with the best doctors on the planet. They all agree that there’s considerable risk involved if she gets more work done on her face. The important thing right now is to give the skin tissue time to heal. Then maybe after a while she can go in and they can try and fix some of the things that went wrong.”
“So there’s hope, at least,” I said.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Joey. “I mean, Ona is the most positive person I know. She doesn’t feel she’ll look like this forever, or be locked up inside here forever. At some point she hopes she can put this whole ordeal behind her.”
“And in the meantime we’ll make sure she adopts a friend for you,” I said.
The little furry doggie actually teared up at this.“So kind,” she murmured. “You guys are so, so kind.”
And so we found ourselves in the unlikely position of having to comfort a dog. Then again, I guess it’s all par for the course when you’re a feline sleuth!
CHAPTER 25
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Our quest for the truth continued, and this time our subject was Doris Booth. We met up with the former editor in a cozy tea room, where she had agreed to meet Odelia for a tell-all interview about the lawsuit she had filed against Michael Madison. Though now that the CEO was dead, I wondered if the lawsuit would still go ahead. Hard to sue a dead person, I would have imagined.
Underneath the table, a teacup doggie sat eyeing us with misty eyes. It looked like a tiny ball of fluff, but unlike Joey didn’t respond to our presence with hostility but unveiled curiosity.
“Hey, there,” I said as we settled in for the duration of the interview.
“Hi,” said the doggie, who was of uncertain breed.
Introductions were made, and the dog turned out to answer to the unlikely name Froufrou. She was nice enough, and soon we enjoyed a cozy little chat.
“So Madison is dead, huh?” said Froufrou. “Well, as much as I hate to say it, good riddance, Max.”