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She found herself in a long corridor and tread silently on her white sneakers along the carpeted floor until she thought she heard voices. She put her ear against the panel and bingo! A woman was talking. She tried to hear what she said but the damn door was too thick. She wondered for a moment how to proceed, then got another idea. She knocked on the door of the next office and when no response came, snuck inside. As luck would have it, it was empty. So she darted behind the large mahogany desk and put her ear against the wall. Nope. Only faint murmurs.

She glanced around, until she saw that there was a vent placed in the wall. So she dragged the heavy desk over with a lot of effort, climbed on top of it, and put her ear against the vent. Immediately the sound improved, and this time she could hear what was being said. Eagerly licking her lips, she focused on the voices.

“He died, Franklin. So I think I have a right to know how much I’m getting.”

“But Mrs. Weaver, this is not the way to proceed.”

“And I’m telling you it is. If the divorce had been finalized, I’d have received half of everything, you know that as well as I do.”

“Actually I don’t. Mr. Weaver fought you vigorously and was vehement you not get a dime.”

“Well, he’s dead now, so are you really going to sit there and tell me I still don’t get a dime?”

The lawyer cleared his throat uncomfortably.“I’m not sure if I’m at liberty—”

“Oh, cut the crap, Franklin. How much?”

“I’m sure I can’t—”

“How much!”

A lawyerly cough sounded, and finally the man spoke.“Brace yourself for some bad news, Mrs. Weaver. I’m afraid Mr. Weaver was on the verge of bankruptcy.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then,“You have got to be shitting me.”

“I can assure you that I am not ‘shitting’ you, Mrs. Weaver. Your husband made some extremely ill-advised investments, and by the time he moved to Hampton Cove and engaged the services of this office he was in the hole for a large sum of money.”

“How much?” asked Sandy quietly.

“I’d have to check the numbers.”

“But what about the house? Don’t tell me he sold the house?”

“Mr. Weaver was mortgaged to the hilt. The house will go to the creditors, I’m afraid, as will everything else he owned. And even then it won’t be enough to pay off his debts.”

Behind Vesta, a door opened, and before she could get down from the desk, one of the Lewises, or maybe it was Clark, cried,“My dear lady, what on earth are you doing?”

“I was looking for the bathroom!” she yelled.

“Surely you didn’t expect to find it up there!”

“What?! I’m deaf! Flushed my last hearing aid down the toilet!”

“Please get down from there at once!” the man demanded, so she did as she was told.

But before he could kick her out, Scarlett appeared in the door, looking pleased as punch.“Mama! What were you thinking!” And to the lawyer, “Please excuse my mother, sir. She’s not completely there anymore.”

The lawyer, when he caught sight of Scarlett’s dazzling d?colletage, swayed for a moment, clearly in the grip of an acute attack of vertigo. By the time he’d gotten a grip, Scarlett was already leading her ‘mother’ away, loudly yelling, “You can’t go into these nice people’s offices like this, Mama! What are they going to think?!”

They passed the reception desk just as Sandy was being led out, and by the time they were out on the street, and once again following the widow of the dearly departed Mr. Weaver, Scarlett whooped,“That wassooooo amazing! What did you find out?”

“That Kirk was completely broke, and left nothing but debts to his widow, even though she thought he was leaving her a fortune.”

“Kirk Weaver was broke?”

“Bad investments.”

“Wow. Poor woman.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” said Vesta, and sped up until she was walking next to Sandy.

“Mrs. Weaver? My name is Vesta Muffin and this is my associate Scarlett Canyon. We’re private dicks investigating the death of your husband. Can we ask you a couple of questions?”

At first it looked as if Sandy was about to say no, but then she relented.

“Oh, all right,” she said, and followed Vesta and Scarlett into the same coffee shop they’d used to stake out the hotel before.

Chapter 17

The day was a little strange, I must admit. Usually when Odelia is in the throes of a murder investigation she likes to take us along wherever she goes, hoping we can talk to a pet witness or somehow snoop out some hidden clue that will help her catch the killer.

Today, though, she’d left that morning without a word, and hadn’t returned since.

So we just sat there, at home, wondering if perhaps she’d already caught the killer and didn’t need us anymore.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything else to do. For one thing, I was keeping an eye on Odelia’s tablet to see if the illustrious Chloe had already started her stint as Hampton Cove’s pet advisor at theGazette. Dooley had asked a question, I had asked a question, and it was reasonable to assume answers were forthcoming. So I kept refreshing the front page of theGazette and hoping to see something appear there.