“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Somehow this feels… personal.”
“How so?” asked Uncle Alec with a frown.
“I don’t know—but it just does.”
“Trust me when I tell you this wasn’t personal, Odelia. So don’t you go blaming yourself now, you hear?” She nodded, and looked up when her uncle suddenly muttered, “Holy crap.”
“What is it?”
He was looking at his phone, then held it up so she could see.“Picture of the murdered girl. Notice anything?”
She stared at the picture of Dany Cooper and smiled a wan smile.“She was beautiful.”
“She was,” Uncle Alec confirmed. “She was also the spitting image… of you.”
Chapter 7
I didn’t like all this talk about people resembling Odelia being murdered. I mean, if humans want to kill each other, that’s perfectly fine with me, but please don’t touch MY human. She’s off-limits. And so are the members of my human’s family, for that matter.
“I don’t like this, Dooley,” I said therefore.
Dooley stared at me dumbly. This was his line, and I’d just blatantly stolen it.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
Now that was a line I wasn’t ready to steal, as I got it just fine. “A woman has just been murdered and she was the spitting image of Odelia,” I explained.
“Oh, I don’t like that, Max,” he said. Then he thought about this some more and said, “I still don’t get it. Why would anyone murder a woman just because she looks like Odelia?”
I hitched up my shoulders in a shrug.“That, I don’t know,” I admitted. I mean, we all know humans are weird, and there’s often no rhyme or reason to what they do. This seemed like another case in point.
“Are you saying there’s someone going around murdering Odelia’s lookalikes?” Dooley pressed on.
“We won’t know for sure until he kills his second Odelia lookalike,” I said. The moment I spoke the words, I realized how this sounded.
“I hope that doesn’t happen, Max,” said Dooley, echoing my thoughts exactly.
And judging from the shocked look on Odelia’s face, who was being interviewed on the bench right above our heads by Uncle Alec, she was thinking the exact same thing.
“Chances are this is just a coincidence,” Alec was saying.
Odelia nodded numbly.“I’m sure you’re right. Just a horrible coincidence.” She stared at her uncle’s phone some more. “I never realized before how closely she resembled me. Or how closely I resembled her. We could have been sisters.” She frowned. “So that’s why Wolf chose her. Not just because she wasa great actress but because we’re like twins.”
“At any rate,” said Uncle Alec, tucking away his little notebook and heaving his bulk from the bench with a groan, “I can assure you we’ll get to the bottom of this. And you better take the rest of the day off.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I still have an article to write for the Gazette.”
“Not about the murder, surely,” said Alec, incredulous.
“The moment Dan found out about it, he reserved space on tomorrow’s front page. I need to get my piece in by six tonight so he can still make his edits.”
“Can’t he write the piece himself? You’re in no state of mind to write about this. Too close to home,” he explained.
“I’ll be fine, Uncle Alec,” she said, giving him a brave smile. “I’ve handled worse. Remember when Mom was a murder suspect?”
“This is different,” Alec said, and he was right. “I think you better sit this one out, honey. I’ll tell Chase not to involve you, either.”
“But…”
He held up a meaty paw.“No buts about it. I have a bad feeling about this, and I wouldn’t be much of a cop if I didn’t follow my gut from time to time.” He slapped his voluminous belly. “God knows it’s big enough not to ignore. You’re not to get involved in this case and that’s my final word.”
Odelia looked mutinous, but knew better than to argue with her uncle. They’re both cut from the same cloth and if there was ever a competition for obstinate mules, it would be a photo finish.
“Fine,” she said finally, but without much enthusiasm.
Dooley pointed to Odelia’s back. “Why is she crossing her fingers, Max?”
“That’s what humans do when they say one thing but plan to do the exact opposite.”
Dooley shook his head.“Humans are so weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
Uncle Alec left to join his people and Odelia turned to us.“Listen, you guys. We need to figure out who killed Dany. You’re going to be my eyes and ears on this one, all right?”
“All right,” I said, nodding earnestly.
“I’ll be your ears and Max can be your eyes,” said Dooley happily.
“Um…. fine,” said Odelia.
“And Brutus can be your nose and Harriet can be your tongue,” Dooley continued.
“Dooley,” I said warningly.
“And Kingman can be your…” Dooley frowned. “Um, what other sense is there?”
“Touch—but that’s not important,” I said. I turned to Odelia. “We’ll all be your eyes and ears and whatever else you need. Rest assured, we’ll nab this nasty killer for you.”
“Oh, and make sure Uncle Alec doesn’t find out,” she added. “I’m not supposed to participate in this particular investigation.”
I tapped my nose with my paw.“Don’t worry. Mum’s the word.”
Odelia went off in the direction of the park exit, and I realized Dooley was staring at me.“Why did you do that thing with your nose, Max? And why is mom the word?”
“It’s an expression,” I said, already plotting our next course of action. Detection work is a highly specialized business, and by now I was getting to be an old hand at the thing.
“But why mom?” Dooley insisted. “Why not dad’s the word? Or grandma’s the word? They’re nice words. Definitely as nice as mom.”
“It’s not mom—it’s mum. Mum’s the word.”
“What’s a mum?”
“A British mom.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, Dooley. It’s just one of those things.”
“Why not grandpa or uncle or aunt or cousin or nephew or—”
“We need to talk to the ducks,” I said, cutting off Dooley’s stream of eloquence.
“Ducks?” he asked, looking up in alarm. “Why ducks?”
“Because this place is full of ducks,” I said, pointing to a piece of particularly smelly duck poop park cleaners had overlooked. “So one of them is bound to have seen something.”
“I don’t like ducks,” Dooley intimated.
Trouble was, ducks didn’t like us, either. So how were we going to win their trust—enough for them to give us their undivided attention—not to mention critical information?
There was only one way: we’d have to be subtle.
Good thing subtle is a cat’s middle name.
Chapter 8
Oddly enough, Brutus was still where we’d left him: seated near the thicket of beech trees that were now the silent witnesses to his crime of adultery—or, in Brutus’s reading, the crime of wanting to see if his fatal attraction still held sway. When we arrived, he looked up, a gleam of hope in his eyes. “And? What did she say?” he asked.
“That the murdered girl looks just like her, and not to tell Uncle Alec,” Dooley returned promptly, causing Brutus to shoot him a look of confusion.
“Huh?” he said.
“I think Brutus was referring to Harriet, not Odelia,” I said. And for the sake of our suffering friend, I added, “We haven’t talked to Harriet yet. There’s been a murder in the park, and Odelia wants us to find out who did it.”
“Oh,” said Brutus, deflating. It was obvious he didn’t care about murder now that his love life was in a shambles.
“We’re going to talk to the ducks,” Dooley announced. “Even though we don’t like ducks, we’re going to suck it up for Odelia’s sake. And we’re going to be subtle about it.”