CHAPTER 8

I watched Jerry take out his camera and take many photos, so many photos, from every angle possible. He moved around the room, bending to pick up pieces of this and that, placing them in baggies and writing numbers on everything.

Curiosity overwhelmed me and I scampered to the corner where I could ease down the wall and emerge unobserved. I grabbed the wood framing with my claws and crawled to the floor. A small hole in the baseboard allowed me to pop out into the dark closet.

I immediately fell into a mound of fabric. The cloth swallowed me and I clamored my way out of all the folds. Apparently, the material’s rustling caught Jerry’s attention—the next thing I knew, a flashlight was blinding me.

“Hello, Buddy,” Jerry said.

He seemed so friendly I almost answered him. But I knew it would be too awkward, so I ran to a far corner and hid under the bed.

His light lingered on the fabric, and I watched him pull the rumpled clothing from the floor. It was a red shirt and looked suspiciously like the scrap of material Leo clutched. Something about it bothered me. I watched Jerry take more photos before getting out another bag and scribbling on it.

What had begun as an interesting activity to observe was quickly boring, so I ran back to the closet and up to the rafters, where I could access the living room. I wanted to see what the girls were telling the detectives. I found Em on one of the beams, looking down through the overhead light fixture.

Sidling up to him, I whispered, “What’s going on so far?”

He jumped sideways and looked at me. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry.” I twitched my whiskers. “Did you see who stabbed Leo? It was so dark in the room, I’m pretty sure it was one of these girls, but which one?”

Em shook his head. “I didn’t see, either.”

I sat back. “I don’t know why I’m so curious about this. One more dead human is one less problem for me.”

“What are you going to do now?” Em asked. He was chewing on something.

“Enjoy my vacation, I guess—what are you eating?”

“Napkins—I mean, fabric, right?” He held up a familiar-looking piece of material.

“Is that from Leo’s hand?”

“No, I told you that fabric gives me seizures. I found this in one of the closets.” He closed his eyes as he nibbled. “There’s about forty percent cotton and a splash of spandex in this.”

I sighed. “Wouldn’t you rather eat cheese?”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “Cheese tastes better but this tastes familiar.”

I told him about Jerry’s find in the closet. “I’m betting that shirt has a hole that matches the scrap in Leo’s hand.” I rocked back on my haunches to think. “You know, it’s funny. Olivia’s clothes are all stored away, and she’s got a bag set up as a hamper. Why’d she toss her shirt in the corner? I don’t even remember seeing a red shirt in her luggage.”

“Why do you care about that? They’re just humans.”

I gazed down at the detectives, who were now standing in the living area. The taller one, Rogers, flipped through Officer Alvarez’ notes, then passed them to Detective Neva. “Because the longer the police are here trying to solve the crime, the busier this place will be and the less relaxing. I’m trying to take a vacation!”

“I don’t know what a vacation is, but why don’t you wait for everyone to go to bed, then take one from the pantry?”

I put both paws over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “No, a vacation is when you go somewhere to enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t know what enjoy is, either.” He wiped his whiskers.

“Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I could hear Jerry in the bedroom, still clomping about. “We won’t be able to get to our home in the wall for a while. Why don’t we find a space behind the cabinets in the kitchen to take a nap? At least we’ll be close to the food.”

Em nodded and turned. We crawled along the beams to the kitchen area, shimmied down the wood and emerged from the wall into the back of the cabinet under the sink. There was no door to this storage, just a small curtain, yellow with pops of daisies. Light filtered through the fabric, making a hazy landscape of bottles, cans, and sponges.

“Napkins!” Em ran for the curtain, but I stopped him.

“No napkin eating here,” I said. “These curtains have to hide us, at least for a bit.”

I hadn’t noticed the chaotic level of human conversation until Detective Rogers’ voice cut through them. My curiosity overruled my good sense and I peeked out of the curtain to watch.

“Ladies, let’s get back on track. Ashley, you were saying there was animosity between Miss Bent and Mr. Carter?”

“Oh, no, Detective.” Ashley stood up, waving her hands. “That’s not what we meant at all.”

“Yes, it is,” Brina told him, then turned to her friends. “Withholding information will go badly. My dad’s a criminal defense lawyer, trust me on this.”

“Miss Bent?” Rogers said. “Have anything to say?”

From my vantage point, I saw Olivia’s face turn tomato-red and she shook her head slowly.

The detective sighed and nodded at her partner. “Detective Smythe is going to escort you to the patio now. I will call you in one at a time for more questioning.”

Brina nodded and smiled knowingly at the others. “We’re not supposed to be coordinating our stories.”

“As a matter of fact, miss, we can begin with you.” Smythe gestured toward the table. “Have a seat, please.”

The other girls shuffled out of the kitchen, so I closed the curtain and returned to the back corner. “This is bad,” I told Em.

“I don’t understand.”

“Olivia will be their suspect.”

“So?”

“So if she isn’t allowed to leave, I don’t have a ride home.” I sat back. “I mean, other than that, I don’t care, except she didn’t do it. We saw her leave.”

“But who would we tell?” he asked.

I passed my paw over my right ear. “The police, of course.”

Em stared at me, silent.

“Look, I am aware we’re mice. I don’t even talk to humans, and I’ve never been tempted to do anything nice for Olivia—she’s a spoiled brat. But right is right, and there’s got to be a way to tell the police what we saw, without having them freak out.”

“Or squish us.”

“Or squish us—us?” Now it was my turn to stare. “When did I ask you to help me?”

“You didn’t. But what else am I going to do, if I’m not in a cage being fed pellets and napkins?”

“Okay. Let’s find a way back into the wall. I’ve got one idea for getting the detectives’ attention.”

Feeling along the baseboards, I found a place we could squeeze through and soon we were traveling along the beams. I could hear Jerry in Brina’s room, so I headed there. On my way, I heard Olivia’s voice from the patio. I paused to listen.

“I don’t care if he’s in conference, tell Daddy it’s an extreme emergency.”

A woman’s voice replied from the speaker. “Yes, Miss Bent, but he will not be pleased.”

Music played from her phone, but I could still hear her impatient nails clicking against the exterior stucco. “Come on, Daddy. I need you,” she whispered. I had never heard her sound so plaintive, like a child needing comfort.

“This had better be important,” a deep male voice boomed.

The child who needed her Daddy disappeared, replaced by cold-blooded sarcasm. “You tell me. Leo’s been murdered.”

There was no response, so she continued. “Did you hear me, Daddy? Leo was stabbed to death, in the beach house, in my room. I may be the number one suspect. Is that important enough?”

“Leo Carter is dead?” Her father had found his voice. “Are you certain? Never mind, of course you’re certain. So…Leo is dead…stabbed…police are there…why do they think you might have done it?”

“Because he was stabbed in my room—were you listening? And after the blowup I had with him, well, correction—blowups, plural, the police know he wasn’t my favorite person. Why didn’t you fire him when I told you to?”

“It’s complicated, Sweetheart. How did the police know about your fights with him?”

Olivia sighed. “Brina. Lawyer’s daughter, blah, blah, don’t hide the truth. She ratted me out.”

“Brina. That makes sense.”

The way he said it made me curious. “I mean, I guess it makes sense,” I mused, “about her having a lawyer for a dad, but he said it like it means more.”

“What are you blabbering about?” Em had snuck up next to me again.

“Sorry, did I say it out loud? I was talking to myself, I guess.”

“Daddy.” Olivia the child was back. “What do I do?”

“Let me call our attorney,” Daddy told her, his voice calm and reassuring. “In the meantime, do not speak with the police. This is all going to be okay, you’ll see. Even better than okay. This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to this family.”

I sat, rubbing my whiskers. The best thing that ever happened? I remembered Claire’s musing. Did Leo have something on dear old Dad? I turned to Em. “We may have two mysteries to solve.”