The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (chrome ebook reader txt) 📗

of news,” said Chase as he rubbed his eyes. “We finally have a positive ID on our John Doe.”

“You do? That’s great news! So who is he?”

“Well, a guy came forward who calls himself Charlie, though I doubt whether that’s his real name. He’s also a homeless person, and says that our guy called himself Pete.”

“Pete.”

“Yeah, Pete. And listen to this. According to Charlie, Pete owed him money. In fact Pete owed a lot of people a lot of money. Turns out Pete wasn’t just broke, he was also heavily in debt.”

“That’s interesting. So do you think it’s possible one of the people Pete owed money to might have killed him? Maybe this Charlie person, even?”

“Well, Charlie was seen wandering around the neighborhood where the Bunyons live, and it is conceivable, though highly unlikely, that he might have broken into the house, and it’s even conceivable, but even more unlikely, that he could have taken Karl Bunyon’s gun. But still, we’re really clutching at straws here wouldn’t you agree, babe?”

“But it is still a possibility, right?”

“A very, very, very remote one. Besides, like I told you before, the only prints we found on that gun are Karl’s, and from talking to my new friend Charlie I have to say he’s not the kind of guy who’d think about wearing plastic gloves when handling a gun. In fact I don’t think he’d know what to do with a gun if you handed him one. He’s more the type of person who’d settle a disagreement with his fists, if you catch my drift.”

Oh, she caught his drift, all right. And even though she didn’t like what Chase said, it all sounded very plausible to her. “So you still aren’t ready to release Karl?”

“Not a chance.”

Chapter 27

The four of us sat in the backyard of Marge and Tex’s place, taking in the devastation and the remnants of what once had been a fine family home—our family home. Workers were busy clearing the debris, loading it into a series of containers positioned on the street in front, and neighbors had come out in droves to gawk at the sad spectacle.

Gran, who seemed repentant but also reluctant to accept responsibility for what had happened, stood discussing things with the new contractor, both of them wearing their yellow hard hats, while Tex and Marge stood discussing things with their insurance guy, hoping to salvage what they could from their savings.

“It doesn’t look good, Max,” said Dooley, stating the obvious.

“No, it doesn’t look good indeed,” I agreed.

“At least we still have one home left, you guys,” said Harriet, striking the positive note.

We all darted a quick and frankly anxious look at Odelia and Chase’s house, just in case that had suddenly also collapsed under the strain. But luckily it still stood proud and erect, reluctant to follow its sister home into the abyss of contractor incompetence.

Marge had kicked Gran’s contractor to the curb, and had taken matters into her own hands by hiring one with an excellent reputation and track record, and an equally reputable architect. It would probably cost them a pretty penny, but at least they’d do a better job than the previous guy, who’d botched things to a great extent.

One of the workers now emerged from the rubble carrying a litter box and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed it in front of us, then gave us a kindly nod in greeting, and walked off again.

“Hey, what do you know? It’s your litter box, Brutus,” I said.

“Yeah, what do you know,” said Brutus somberly. “Even though I’m homeless, at least I can still do my doo-doo,” he added, though he didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

“Look, you guys,” said Harriet. “It’s all going to be fine, just you wait and see. In fact if anything, the new house they’re building will be better and bigger and nicer and more modern than before.”

“Yeah, it was a pretty old house,” I said, feeling we’d had enough of this doom and gloom for one morning. “The new house will be better built, better quality building materials, state-of-the-art insulation, roomier, lighter and brighter… All in all, I think we’ll look back on this day as the beginning of something new and pretty darn exciting.”

“They say that building from scratch is always cheaper and better than renovating,” Harriet said, giving me a grateful look.

“I guess if you look at it like that, you just might be right,” said Brutus after a pause.

“I like roomier and brighter,” said Dooley, nodding.

And so we quickly turned what could have been a tragedy into a good thing. It’s the power of resilience, you guys, something us cats have got in spades. And while we were talking about turning a bad thing into a good thing, just then Odelia came walking up to us, a frown furrowing her brow, and obviously needing our urgent assistance.

“So I need your advice,” she said as she pulled up a lawn chair and sat down next to us. “Karl Bunyon is in jail, right?”

“Oh, is this about the murder case?” asked Dooley. “Cause I thought we were discussing the new house they’re building.”

Odelia darted a quick glance at what had once been her parental home, then dismissed it with a gesture. “No, this is about the murder,” she confirmed. “I want to run something by you and see what you think. I’ve got a couple of suspects for Pete’s murder.”

“Pete?” I asked.

“The homeless person’s name was Pete, according to another homeless person named Charlie, who knew him and to whom he owed money, by the way.”

“Okay,” I said. I confess the whole murder business had momentarily been relegated to the back of my mind, and the collapse of Marge and Tex’s home had everything to do with that, of course. But if Odelia needed our sleuthing prowess, she got it, of course. “So Pete was killed,” I reiterated, “and Karl Bunyon is one of the suspects.”

“He is. Likely motive would be that he didn’t want people to know that