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“I hope so,” said Kingman. “And I hope he breaks his neck in the process.” Then he shook his head. “Forget I said that. He’s a good man—a gentle giant. But I am starting to understand why his wife kicked him out. I just wish Wilbur would kick him out, too.”

Just then, Wilbur came storming into the kitchen, and then he was shouting up the stairs:“Will you cut that out already, you idiot! You’re scaring away my customers!”

“Sorry, Will!” Rudolph’s voice came from upstairs, and immediately the music stopped.

Shaking his head, Wilbur turned to us, and said,“Family. You can’t live with them, and you can’t kill them. So what are you gonna do!” And then he was gone again.

And as we proceeded to the front of the store, I found myself hoping we wouldn’t be called to a murder scene one of these days. If we were, it was obvious to me who the victim would be, and who the killer.

Chapter 14

The home that Flint Kutysiak had built was a nice one, no doubt about it. He lived there with his husband, a young man a few years Flint’s junior named Julio Prokop. The couple welcomed us into their home, and it was obvious they were proud of the place. It wasn’t as big as Dave James’s manor, but it was big enough for two people. It was a modern home, sort of square and with lots of windows that allowed plenty of light to stream into the pleasant living room. No hoarding was going on here, I saw, for the place was fairly soberly decorated. Soft classical music wafted from hidden speakers, and when Odelia and Chase took a seat on the sofa, they found themselves looking at a large coffee-table book that contained all of the comics that Dave James had ever made.

Chase reverently opened it, and after a moment was already chuckling amusedly at the adventures of Tollie the Turtle and his friends.

“We had all the artwork scanned and cleaned up for that one,” Flint explained as he looked on with distinct pride. “And everything colorized from scratch. A humongous job.”

“But Dave was so happy, remember, sweetie?” said Julio.

Both men wore matching outfits: fashionably ripped jeans and crisp pink shirts. They could have been twins, with their wavy blond hair, their handsome faces and trim figures.

“Yeah, we mainly created it as a present for his seventieth birthday,” Flint said. “It was supposed to be a surprise, so we could only work on it when he wasn’t at the studio.”

“He often came into the studio to work?” said Chase as he closed the big book.

“He came in every Monday, to show us the work he’d laid out for the coming week, and then again on Friday, to go over the work we’d done. We always work two weeks ahead, so that gives us some breathing space to meet our deadlines.”

“Now that he’s gone, will the work go on?” asked Chase, the fan.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Flint. “Tollie the Turtle will never die, even though Dave is not with us anymore.”

“He wanted Tollie to survive him,” said Julio. “He was so proud of his creation, and wanted Tollie to live forever.”

“I didn’t know that Tollie was actually a real turtle,” said Chase.

“Oh, yes, he was.”

“Did you know that Tollie disappeared?” asked Odelia.

Both Flint and Julio looked shocked at this.

“Disappeared? Tollie?” asked Flint.

“We’re assuming that the same person who killed Dave must have taken Tollie.”

“But who would do such a thing?” asked Flint. “Who would steal a turtle?”

“Tollie isn’t just any turtle, though, is he?” said Chase. “He’s the original Tollie. So maybe the people who took him hope to sell him?”

“But who would buy Tollie? That’s just… horrible!” said Julio, sincerely shocked at this development.

“Do you think the person who killed Dave really wanted to take Tollie?” asked Flint.

“It’s possible,” Chase admitted.

“A turtle like Tollie is probably worth a lot of money,” Julio said musingly. He looked to his husband. “How old is Tollie now?”

“Um… over a hundred, I think?”

“Gee. That’s really old, isn’t it?”

“Okay, so there are a couple of routine questions we need to ask,” said Chase. “The first one is pretty obvious: where were you last night between six and eight?”

“Well, I was home,” said Flint.

“Can anyone confirm that?” asked Chase, looking to Julio, who seemed to have been ruminating on the turtle’s age, and now woke up from his ruminations when his husband gave him a gentle prod.

“Mh? Oh, me,” he said. “I can confirm Flint’s alibi.”

Flint smiled.“This isn’t a Netflix cop show, sweetie.”

“Oh, I know. This is the real deal. But it’s true, Detective Kingsley. Flint was right here last night. Safe and sound with me. And we can prove it, can’t we, sweetie?”

“We can?” asked Flint.

“Don’t you remember? The letter?”

“What letter—oh, you mean the summons?”

Julio now produced a document and slid it across the coffee table to Chase.

“What am I looking at?” asked Chase as he studied the document.

“I was actually served a summons last night,” said Flint.

“A summons?”