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“No, Kurt, a neighbor was found dead this morning,” said Odelia.

“Dead!” The man’s eyes had gone wide. “Who?”

“Willie Dornhauser,” said Chase.

“Willie Dorn…,” said Kurt thoughtfully. “Oh, right—the handyman.”

“Did Willie ever do any work on your place, Kurt?” asked Chase.

“Nah, the man never set foot inside here. He had a bad rep, you see. For thieving.”

“Yeah, we heard that,” said Odelia. “Did you know him well?”

“Not really. I like to keep myself to myself, you know.”

“Yeah, we do know,” I murmured, causing Kurt to glance down and give me a sort of withering look. Kurt isn’t into cats. Behind him, his Yorkshire Terrier had tripped up. Contrary to Kurt, Fifi is blessed with a sunny personality, and I’m always glad to see her.

“Hey, Max,” she said. “Dooley. What’s going on?”

“One of the neighbors got killed last night,” I said.

“Oh, no!” she cried. “Was it a dog or a cat?”

“A human.”

“Oh, no! Was it a man or a woman?”

“A man.”

“Figures,” she said.

“Figures how?”

“Well, it’s always men who get in trouble with the law, isn’t it? Must have something to do with the hormones.”

“He didn’t get in trouble with the law,” I pointed out. “He was murdered. Must have happened late last night. According to the coroner between midnight and three o’clock.”

“I was sound asleep,” she said, “and so was Kurt.”

“Kurt isn’t really a suspect,” I said.

“He’s not? Oh, phew. That’s a load off my mind.”

“Do you think Kurt is capable of murder?” asked Dooley.

“Oh, sure. He’s got a short fuse, and when provoked can get upset. Not that he’s ever mean to me,” she was quick to add. “In fact I’ve never known a kinder man than Kurt.”

“He’s probably one of those humans who like dogs better than their fellow humans,” Dooley said.

We all glanced up at Kurt and saw how gruff he was to Chase and Odelia, answering their questions with great reluctance.

“Yeah, he’s not Mr. Sociable, is he?” I said.

“Not really,” Fifi admitted. “I think he’s never happier than when alone in the house with me, the television playing, and seated in his favorite chair with his—”

“With his microwave dinner on his lap?” I completed the sentence.

“Oh, no, Kurt doesn’t do microwave dinners. He loves to cook. In fact he cooks every night. And he’s a great cook, too. He often lets me sample the stuff he makes, and it’s never anything short of absolute heaven.”

Once more I glanced up at that gray-haired retired teacher. His glasses were perched on the tip of a bulbous nose, he was dressed in corduroy slacks and a beige waistcoat, and looked as gruff and unneighborly as ever. The image of the man didn’t exactly jibe with the one Fifi was painting. Then again, what exactly did we know about the guy? Not much, except that he didn’t like it when we rehearsed our cat choir repertoire in the backyard. He’d thrown the odd shoe or two in our direction in the past. But if he loved dogs, he couldn’t be all bad, could he?

“If you want me to help you find the killer, just say the word, you guys,” said Fifi. She sighed. “It gets boring just sitting at home and going out twice a day for a walk. I could do with a bit of excitement, to be perfectly honest.”

“Sure,” I said. “If you see or hear anything about Willie, anything at all, please tell us.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “He didn’t have a pet by any chance, did he?”

“No, unfortunately he didn’t.”

If he had, it would have made our jobs that much easier. A cat or dog belonging to Willie would have been able to tell us exactly what had transpired last night. Now all we could do was some good old-fashioned police work to find out what was going on.

“One thing we do know for sure,” said Dooley, “is that Willie was a blackmailer.”

“A blackmailer!” said Fifi, her eyes shining excitedly. “Oh, my.”

“He was blackmailing Odelia’s client.” And we proceeded to give Fifi the short version of the events as they transpired the day before. She was duly impressed by the fascinating tale, and promised to let us know if she heard anything relating to Willie’s murder.

Chapter 10

We moved to the house next to Marge and Tex, where Ted and Marcie Trapper already stood talking to an unknown female. When we walked up to the small group, the woman smiled at Chase and said,“Mr. and Mrs. Trapper knew Mr. Dornhauser well, detective.” Chase stared at the woman, and no recognition registered on his face, so her smile faltered somewhat and a blush crept up her cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. Sally Mortensen.”

“Officer Mortensen, of course,” said Chase, though clearly he had no idea who she was.

“I’ll go and interview the people next door,” she murmured, and hurried off.

“A new colleague?” asked Odelia.

“Looks like,” said Chase. “I didn’t recognize her.” He turned to the Trappers. “I’m sorry, Ted—Marcie, but what can you tell us about Willie Dornhauser?”

“I think he did some work on the house not so long ago,” said Ted. He turned to his wife with a quizzical look on his face. “Or am I thinking of some other person, honey?”