Chapter 36
“Idon’t know, Max,” said Dooley. “Marge doesn’t look like an arsonist. Or a killer. She is too nice to do a thing like that.”
Mercedes had reported back to Gran and Scarlett, and it looked as if her mission had been a resounding success.
Not only had she found evidence that Marge was the arsonist, but she had also found a letter that proved that she was having an affair with Daniel Bozek—also known as ‘Dan.’ Which to her proved she was the person who had killed Harley.
“I think Mercedes has a vivid imagination,” I said. “And she desperately wants to find who killed her son. Add that up and she will accuse anyone of having committed the murder.”
“I think Marge is quite capable of murder,” said Brutus, positing the contrary view.
“I mean, she had her reputation to protect. And maybe Harley Glad discovered that she was having an affair with this Daniel Bozek and threatened to expose her. And since the last thing Marge wants is to see her life ruined and her family fall apart, she shut him up. Permanently.”
“I doubt that very much, snuggle pooh,” said Harriet. “I mean, this is Marge we are talking about. Our Marge.”
“Even our Marge can be a killer,” Brutus insisted stubbornly.
“In fact, anyone can be a killer, if desperate enough and pushed hard enough. And I think Marge was so desperate that she did a desperate thing, and now she regrets it terribly. Which is why her mind has gone off the rails and she has become an arsonist.”
We all considered this theory, but I have to say I dismissed it pretty much out of paw, and so did the others.
“People don’t suddenly become arsonists just because they are under great mental strain, Brutus,” I told him.
“They don’t? I beg to differ,” he said. “If you ask any shrink, they will tell you that my theory is correct. And I think we should tell Odelia, so Chase can arrest his mother-in-law.”
“You really want Chase to arrest Marge?” asked Harriet. “He’ll never do it.”
“Oh, he’ll do it. Chase will do anything if it is necessary. Duty calls and all of that.”
“No way,” said Harriet. “He’d ask another officer to do the honors. He would never do it himself. Odelia would never forgive him if he did.”
We all glanced at the house, where Odelia and Chase were currently slaving away preparing dinner, while Grace was seated at the dinner table doing her homework.
It was a cozy atmosphere inside the house, and therefore it irked me to some extent that we were talking about such morbid things.
“Gran will tell Odelia,” said Harriet. “Or maybe she has already done so.”
“Or maybe Gran will want to cover this whole thing up,” said Brutus, insisting on taking the alternative route to solving this case. “She loves her daughter, and now that she knows what she has been up to, she will do everything in her power to hide the truth.”
“You really think Gran would do a thing like that?” asked Harriet.
“Oh, for sure,” Brutus said. “Any mother would.”
This gave me some food for thought, and my mind was catapulted back to the statements that Mercedes had given us about the fight she’d had with her son, and to what lengths she had gone to break up the relationship he had with his wife, Philomena.
“What do you think, Pippy?” asked Brutus. “Do you think we should tell Odelia that her mom killed your human?”
The little Coton de Tuléar hadn’t said a great deal all day, and at times I had almost forgotten she was even there. But she was there, and presumably she had listened carefully to everything we had been saying.
She looked a little anxious, I thought, and that was understandable. After all, she was living in a house occupied by strangers, with her own human having been killed.
“I think that Marge is a very nice person, just like Dooley says,” she finally piped up. “I think your humans are all very nice, and I think you guys are very lucky to have them.”
“Yeah, we are very lucky,” I agreed, even though we didn’t always see it. “It’s great to have great humans.”
“You haven’t answered the question, though,” said Brutus. “Do you think we should tell Odelia that Chase should arrest her mom?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Pippy with a shrug. “I mean, I’m not a detective, you guys. I’m simply a lapdog, and as a lapdog, we aren’t trained in being a detective or trying to solve a murder—not even if the victim is our own human. So I really couldn’t say whether Marge should go to jail or not.”
At that moment, Uncle Alec arrived, carrying a bottle of wine, and also Charlene, who was carrying a box of chocolates—or at least the package she was carrying looked like a box of chocolates. It could have been a book, of course.
“Hey, you guys,” said Charlene as she waved at us in greeting. “Ooh, Alec, who is the cute little doggie?”
“She belongs to Harley Glad,” said Uncle Alec, who always seemed to know everything about everything. “Harley’s widow is supposed to pick her up, but her flight was delayed, and she won’t get here until tomorrow or the day after.”
“And in the meantime, Odelia is taking care of her? Now that is what I call having a heart for animals.”
“I believe it’s my mom who took her in, but yeah, you’re right. They all have a heart for animals.”
They entered the house and were soon joined by Marge, Tex, and Gran. Looked like Odelia had invited her entire family to join her and Chase and Grace for dinner.
“Looks like another family meeting is in the works,” said Harriet.
“Presumably to tell Marge that she is under arrest,” said Brutus. “Just you wait and see. That’s what this evening’s conclusion will be: Marge in shackles, being carted off to jail.”
It was very possible that he was right, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see that happen. On the contrary, I hoped that no member of our family would have to go to jail. And definitely not Marge, who was, as Dooley had already indicated, a wonderful person.
At that moment, I thought I saw a head pop up behind the hedge.
“Did you guys see that?” I asked.
“See what?” asked Brutus, who was focusing on the sliding glass door, through which we could see the family sitting down for dinner. “They’ll probably allow her to eat first,” he announced. “And then after dinner, when her belly is full, they will make the arrest.”
“Oh, sugar cookie,” said Harriet. “I really hope you’re wrong this time. I really do.”
“I’m not wrong,” said Brutus. “But I see what you mean. It won’t be a lot of fun for the family to have Marge locked up for life for murder.”
“I think he’s hiding behind that hedge over there,” I said.
“Who is hiding behind the hedge, Max?” asked Harriet.
“No one,” said Brutus. “Max is seeing things that aren’t there. Us professionals call that hallucinating, and it’s a bad sign. A sign that Max’s brain is starting to malfunction. Must be all of that hard work solving murders. Max has overworked his brain, and it’s shutting down.”
“Look, there he is again!” I cried and pointed to the hedge in question.
They all turned, but of course, by the time they had taken the hedge under observation, the apparition was gone again. Looked like he kept popping up and down, like one of those funny figures at the fairground that you need to whack with a wooden hammer.
“Okay, this is it,” I said when I observed Brutus giving me a smirk that looked like he thought I was seeing things. “I’m going to unmask this person once and for all.”
“Max, don’t go there!” Dooley cried when I started in the direction of the hedge. “If it’s a killer, he will shoot you—Max!”
But I wasn’t deterred. I wanted to know who the person was that was hiding behind our hedge and spying on us and our humans.
As I reached the hedge, I ducked underneath, and it wasn’t long before I had located the intruder.
Looking up at the man, I thought I recognized him. He certainly recognized me, for he said, “Max! So nice to see you again, buddy. Did you know that I always read what Odelia writes about you? I love those stories. Are they all fiction, or are they real?”
“All too real,” I said. “What are you doing here, by the way? Spying on Odelia? Or Chase?” Then an awful thought occurred to me. Was it possible this was the arsonist, and he was here to see if the coast was clear so he could set fire to another part of the house?
“You’re him, aren’t you?” I asked. “You are the arsonist.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Max,” said the cherubic-faced intruder.
“Such an honor to finally meet the great Max in the flesh. You can’t believe how long I’ve been reading your human’s byline.
And more often than not, she will mention any one of you.
” He looked around. “Where are the others, by the way? Dooley, Harriet, and Brutus?”
“You guys!” I said. “Come here. It’s the arsonist!”
“Fat chance,” said Brutus as he approached the hedge. “Marge is the arsonist, and you know that full well, Max. No need to invent—well, hello.”
He stared up at the guy, who was starting to get a little nervous, I saw.
Harriet and Dooley had both joined us, and the four of us studied the man closely. So closely that he looked quite trepidatious.
“Um… this is not going the way I had anticipated,” he said. “For one thing, it wasn’t included in my plan that Odelia’s cats would be here. Or do you belong to Vesta?”
“I belong to Vesta,” said Dooley.
“I belong to Chase,” said Brutus.
“I belong to the muse,” said Harriet, but when we gave her a look, she relented and said, “I belong to Marge. Technically, at least. In reality, I like to think that I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
“And I belong to Odelia,” I said. “And that’s the four of us explained. Now can you please tell us why you are spying on Odelia and her family?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Brutus. “Because he wants to set fire to the place, of course. Just like you said, Max. Looks like we have finally nabbed our arsonist!”