“I’m sure he found other girlfriends.”
“Oh, sure. He went through the entire roster, only finally to settle on Janice Cooper. I heard they’re married with five kids now. So good for him, I guess.”
“And I heard Janice filed for divorce last month, so maybe not so good.”
“Oh,” said Odelia, surprised.
“Look at this,” said Marge, gesturing to a pair of earrings lying next to the window.
“Grace’s, you think?” asked Odelia as she crouched down to study the trinkets.
“Let’s take a picture and ask Alicia. She will know if they belong to her mother.”
Marge glanced around at the cluttered space. It was a mess, but that was probably to be expected. Painters are creative people, and order is not high on their list of priorities.
Clothes had been strewn about, and a canvas had been dumped to the floor. As she looked closer, though, something began to bother her with this picture.
“It almost looks as if... There’s been a fight,” she said now.
“You think so?” asked Odelia as she dipped her finger into a glob of paint. “Still wet. Though I have no idea if that means anything. How long does paint take to dry?”
Marge shrugged, then decided to climb the ladder to the sleeping loft.
Upstairs, the bed hadn’t been made, the sheets tangled up and shoved to the foot of the bed. Signs of a struggle, or a session of intense lovemaking? Hard to know for sure.
She suddenly noticed something sticking out from under the mattress and took it out. It was a phone, and when she fired it up, saw that it showed a picture of Alicia.
“I think I just found Grace’s phone,” she shouted.
“No need to shout,” said Odelia as her head appeared. “I’m right here.”
Marge showed her daughter the phone. “How likely is it that Grace would leave for Cabo and not take her phone?”
“Not very. Can you get in?”
Marge tried the usual combinations, but apparently Grace had opted for something more challenging. “No luck. And I should probably stop trying before the SIM locks.”
“Let’s ask Alicia. Maybe she knows her mother’s password.”
Marge slipped the phone into her pocket and checked around some more. There was a picture stuck to the wall behind the bed with Blu Tack. It depicted the cottage, and looked a lot cleaner and tidier than it was now. She studied the picture. “I think there’s been a fight of some kind,” she said finally. “Look at this.”
Odelia studied the picture. “You’re right. Which means Grace and Fabio didn’t elope. They were taken.”
Next to the first picture, a selfie had been tacked. It depicted Fabio and Grace, and Marge studied her former friend. She still looked very pretty, even though thirty years had passed. Fabio was younger than Grace, and very handsome, with tanned face and a thick crop of dark hair. He was lying on the bed, his torso naked, with Grace’s head on his chest. They looked happy, grinning into the camera like a couple of teenagers in love.
A pang of pity shot through Marge. She’d hated Grace for a long time, but now she suddenly felt sorry for her. Clearly her marriage with Jock had been an unhappy one, but here she seemed genuinely happy. Had someone been jealous of her happiness and decided to put an end to it? If that was the case, there was only one likely suspect: Jock.
“I think we should get Alec and Chase involved,” said Marge. “This is starting to look more and more like a kidnapping.”
“I think you’re right,” said Odelia. “Let’s call this in.” And as she cut a glance to her mother, she added, “Better drop that phone, Mom. This is now officially a crime scene.”
Chapter 14
“I honestly wonder, Max,” said Dooley.
“Wonder what?” I asked.
We were in Uncle Alec’s pickup, on our way to a possible crime scene Odelia and Marge had discovered. Alec was driving, and Chase was riding shotgun. Harriet, Brutus and Shanille had stayed behind with Gran, to conduct some more door-to-door litter business.
“I’m starting to have doubts,” he admitted.
“Doubts? About...”
“About our mission. The CCREC mission.”
“Oh. Well, to be honest with you, Dooley, I’m having doubts about our mission, too.”
“You are?”
“Yes, frankly I’m not so sure if the way Harriet and Shanille keep selling the litter box as God’s gift to dogs is the right approach—the ethical approach, I mean.”
“I’ve been thinking, too, Max, and I don’t think it’s practical, you know.”
“Practical? What do you mean?”
“Well, as you know I’m a big fan of the Discovery Channel, right? I wasn’t before, but the more I watch, the more I like it. And the other night there was a documentary about the different types of dogs. There are a lot of different breeds, Max. I mean, a lot a lot.”
“Yes, I know.” I was wondering where my friend was going with this, and sincerely hoped he would get there fast.
“There are Chihuahuas, Pekinese, Pomeranians, Poodles, German Shepherds…”
“I know, Dooley. There are a lot of different dog breeds.”
“Well, that got me thinking, Max.”
“Yes?”
“These litter boxes, they’re all pretty much the same size. Since they’re made for cats and all cats are basically the same size. Well, some cats are bigger than others,” he said, directing a meaningful look at my tummy for some reason, “but dogs aren’t cats, Max.”
“Yes, I’m well aware dogs aren’t cats, Dooley. So what’s your point?”
“My point is that there are dogs that are as big as a cow, and they’ll never fit inside a regular-sized litter box, unless they made the box as big as an RV. Do you know what an RV is, Max?”
“Yes, I know what an RV is, Dooley.”
“I mean, what dog owner is going to bring that kind of thing into his home? Plus, these dogs—the ones that are as big as cows—when they do their business those piles are huge, Max. Huge! Like an elephant’s.”
I made a face. “You don’t need to remind me, Dooley. Remember Rufus’s business?”
“Well, that’s another thing, Max. I don’t think that was Rufus’s pile.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I took a sniff and I distinctly smelled Fifi in that pile.”
“Fifi! But she’s so small. She couldn’t possibly have produced a pile that high.”
“Yes, she could. Small dogs can produce heaps that big, Max. It was all in that Discovery Channel documentary. I wish you could have seen it. It was very interesting.”
“I’m sure it was, Dooley. So what’s your point?”
“My point is that no one in their right mind is going to want to buy their dog a litter box the size of an RV, and if that’s the case, what’s the point of the CCREC?”
“Well, Harriet seems to think it’s all a matter of supply and demand,” I reminded him. “If the demand is there, the supply will follow.”
“It’s all a matter of money, Max. A litter box as big as an RV is going to cost owners of the big dogs an arm and a leg, and they simply aren’t going to be able to afford such an expenditure. The people with tiny dogs, on the other hand, will be in a better position.”
“So?”
“So it’s not fair, Max! Big dog people will say it’s not fair that small dog people spend so little and they would be right. And before you know it, Gran and Harriet and Shanille’s CCREC scheme will collapse in a big heap of… um…”
“I think I get the point, Dooley.”
“And also, we shouldn’t have gone after Marcie so hard, or Rufus, as that big pile of dog dung was Fifi’s and not Rufus’s.”
All this gave me food for thought, and as we traveled the road that led from Hampton Cove to the house where the Farnsworths lived, I saw that my friend was right. The people with the big dogs would never want to spend that kind of money, unless...
“We need to talk to the Mayor,” I said now. “He needs to find a way to compensate the big dog people. Make sure their litter expenses don’t exceed a certain threshold.”