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“But Chase said that Jayme is supposed to be Dave’s successor, but she’s in jail.”

“I’m sure that Dave left instructions. Artists like him take precautions for this type of situation. Some of them plan out the future of their creation years and years in advance.”

“We’ll just have to prove that Jayme is innocent, won’t we, Max? So she can go and make people happy with their daily dose of Tollie the Turtle.”

Easier said than done. If Uncle Alec and Chase were right, Jayme not only had an excellent motive to murder her benefactor, but that piece of paper with her name on it went a long way to establishing not only her presence at the scene, but her guilt, too.

Ironic, though, that Dave’s appointed successor would also be the one by whose hand he met his maker. And even though I sincerely hoped that Jayme was innocent, since she was obviously a very talented and likable young woman, as things stood right now, it didn’t look too good for her.

Chapter 8

The moment we left the police station, suddenly we were accosted, not by converging police vehicles intent on arresting us for jaywalking, but by Gran and Scarlett, along with Harriet and Brutus. Scarlett was holding up her phone, and Harriet clearly wanted immediate speech with us, for she was yelling,“Max! Dooley! Come with us—now!”

“I’m sorry but we can’t,” I said, feeling slightly ambushed. “We have a murder to solve.”

“What murder?” asked Harriet, clearly annoyed that I’d come up with such a feeble excuse to try and wriggle my way out of an appointment with her.

“Jayme Ziccardi has been arrested for the murder of Dave James,” I explained, “and Chase and Odelia are going to try and prove her innocence.”

“Well, let them,” said Harriet. “This is much more important than some silly murder.” She gestured for Gran to come over. The old lady had been huddling nearby with Scarlett, discussing who knows what, and both studying their phones for some reason.

“Max, you need to come with us right now,” said Gran, reiterating Harriet’s words. And so I decided to repeat my excuse, hoping it would find more fertile ground with her. “I can’t,” I said therefore. “There’s been a murder and we need to help Odelia and Chase.”

“A murder!” said Gran. “What murder?”

“Dave James has been murdered,” said Dooley helpfully, “but he has an entire studio full of artists to continue his work so Tollie the Turtle will still appear in your newspaper every morning, Gran. Though of course his successor is in prison for murder, but if we manage to get her off, she’ll be able to carry on his work. Unless we can’t get her off, and then maybe you won’t find Tollie the Turtle in your newspaper every morning, Gran.”

“Dave James is dead?” asked Gran. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Dave James is dead?!” Scarlett cried.

“Yeah, Tex found him this morning,” I said.

“Tex found him,” Gran translated my words for Scarlett, who is one of those rare people who can’t communicate with cats.

“Tex found him?!” Scarlett cried, adamant to keep repeating everything that was being said like some kind of parrot.

“So now we have to find out who did it,” I said, watching anxiously as Chase and Odelia impatiently waited in the car for Dooley and me to join them so we could be on our way.

“Look, I didn’t want to do this, since I don’t think you and Dooley should have a place in my new cartoon,” said Harriet, “but Gran convinced me that for comedic purposes it’s good to have sidekicks. Like in those Garfield cartoons sometimes you have that spider? Well, Max can be the spider. And you, Dooley, you can be like Odie.”

“Odie is a dog,” I pointed out.

“Let’s not split hairs, Max. You should be glad you’re in my cartoon at all.”

“You’re going to kick me?” asked Dooley with slight trepidation.

“Harriet won’t kick you but I might,” said Brutus with a wicked grin.

“Okay, so if Harriet is Garfield, and I’m the spider and Dooley is Odie,” I said, “then who are you, Brutus?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m the love interest.”

“Does Garfield have a love interest?”

“Sure. And she’s an integral part of the story.”

“And so who’s going to be Garfield’s Jon?” I asked.

“That would be me,” said Gran proudly. “I’ll be the Jon of Harriet the Cat.”

“But because Scarlett can’t draw,” Harriet explained, “we’ve decided to turn it into a photo comic instead. And I’ve already worked out the first episode, and now all we need to do is snap the pictures. And since you’ll feature in it, we need to take a couple of pictures of you against a neutral background, Max. You, too, Dooley.”

“Oh,” I said, all this information coming a little too fast for my taste.

But before I could change my mind, Gran had instructed me to position myself against the police station outer wall, and Scarlett proceeded to snap a couple of shots of me.

“Don’t you want me to look a certain way?” I asked Gran, who was supervising this impromptu photoshoot.

“No, that’s fine,” said Harriet. “In fact the more bland you look, the better.”

“I look bland?”