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“So basically we have three likely suspects and four iffy ones,” said Gran.

“And don’t forget about the pizza guy,” said Max.

Odelia pointed at him.“Thanks, Max. I’m going to track him down today.”

“Imagine the pizza guy did it,” chuckled Gran. “Because Ackerman wouldn’t tip him.”

Odelia scribbled‘pizza guy’ in the margin. She was nothing if not thorough. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “So what does this teach us?” she asked her audience.

“That we’re screwed,” grunted Gran. “All these people could have done it for various reasons and we have no way of figuring out who did do it.” She threw up her hands. “Jessica Fletcher makes it look so easy on TV! Only takes her fifty minutes to find the killer—ninety minutes in the movies.”

“Aurora Teagarden, too,” muttered Max.

“Follow the pizza boxes,” Dooley added, quite incomprehensibly.

They all stared at the whiteboard for a moment. Finally Harriet said it best when she announced,“We still have a long way to go, people.Achee!”

Chapter 33

The visit to Vena’s would have to wait. The call came at eight o’clock, just when they were all sitting down for breakfast. Tex, who’d finally noticed the house was empty, had drifted over, and was sucking down his first cup of coffee of the day, slowly waking up. Odelia had baked pancakes, Mom was demonstrating her omelet skills, and Gran showed the others what a superb waffle batter should look like, when Uncle Alec called.

Turned out Chris Ackerman’s publisher had flown in the night before and had rented a large beachfront mansion and had invited Uncle Alec to interview him there. Alec had told Chase and Chase had suggested they bring Odelia along, seeing as she was also working the case, albeit in an unofficial capacity. And since Gran wouldn’t hear of sitting this one out, she decided to come, too, as well as the fearsome feline foursome, who weren’t going to let a little cold stand in their way. Finally, as the library was still closed, Mom was also game.

The only one who wasn’t coming was Tex, since he had patients to attend to. And neither did he mind. Unlike the women in his family, he wasn’t bitten by the sleuthing bug.

And so it was that Odelia’s pickup was pretty packed as it tootled along the road, Odelia in the driver’s seat, Gran riding shotgun, with Marge and the cats in the backseat.

“Nice,” said Gran. “Like a family trip to the beach.”

“This is still a murder investigation, Gran,” said Odelia.

“So I can’t enjoy this? You’ve got to lighten up, dear.”

Odelia directed a quick look through the rearview mirror. The thing was that she worried about her mother. People were talking, and they would keep on talking as long as the person who killed Ackerman hadn’t been identified, arrested, and tried for murder. Some people would probably keep on talking even afterwards, but that was just because they liked talking and didn’t have anything better to do. Luckily they were a minority. The sooner this investigation was over, though, the sooner Mom would be off the hook.

Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus were sniffling quietly.

“I scheduled an appointment, you guys,” said Odelia. “We’re going over there as soon as this interview is over, okay?”

“Okay,” said Max thickly.

“Oh, poor babies,” said Mom, and yanked a few paper napkins from the dispenser and busied herself with wiping their noses and the liquid flowing from their eyes.

“I feel terrible,” Dooley intimated. “And here I thought Jesus would save us.”

Odelia frowned.“I forgot to ask. What’s with this Jesus business?”

“Shanille baptized us,” Max explained. “She figured it would heal Brutus’s red spots.”

“They’re bigger than ever,” Brutus grumbled. “Wanna see?” Without waiting for confirmation he jutted out his chest and Mom took a closer look.

“Oh, my,” said Mom. “Those are some nasty spots, Brutus.”

“Yeah, very nasty,” muttered Brutus with gruff satisfaction.

“So… Shanille baptized you?” asked Odelia.

“Yup. In St. John’s Church’s baptismal font,” said Max.

“She dunked us,” said Harriet. “Can you believe that? I’m still wet.”

Odelia shook her head. She probably should keep a closer eye on her cats. She usually trusted their judgment but this baptism business definitely was not a good idea.

“Maybe we should remove those cat flaps,” Gran suggested, who was clearly thinking the same thing.

“Noooo!” cried the four cats in unison, and Odelia laughed.

“Relax. We’re not going to remove the cat flaps. But you have to promise us to take better care of yourselves. Use your heads.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Max muttered, then sneezed again.

They’d finally arrived at the house where the publisher of Chris Ackerman’s books was holed up. It was one of those typical Hamptons mansions, with a high wrought-iron gate, guarded by two beefy security people, a long and winding drive through immaculately manicured grounds and ending in a circular courtyard where the house stood. A three-story structure in pink brick with plenty of gables and windows, the place had a fairytale look.