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We both watched as Damien paced the living room, deeply engrossed in thought. From time to time he muttered a few snatches of song, punching the air like a kickboxer, then shook his head and paced some more. He was obviously in the throes of the creative process.

Dooley turned to me.“I don’t think it’s Damien.”

“I think you’re right. A doofus like that can’t be the killer.”

Which left… Boa the bodyguard, Burr the cameraman, Alejandro the director, or the writer. Or any of the other bodyguards. Oh, boy. Sleuthing had never been so hard. “I’ll bet it’s Boa,” I said. “He looks like a butcher.”

“Oh, look,” said Dooley. “Speak of the devil.”

The big bodyguard came lumbering up, the ground practically quaking where he stepped. He was all sweaty and oily, his big muscles flexing and moving beneath his tan skin. Man, the guy was ripped.

“I wonder why they haven’t fired him,” I said. “I mean, Shana was killed on his watch. You’d think they’d get rid of him as soon as possible.”

We watched as Shalonda waved the bodyguard over. He bent over her, placing his hands on either side of her head, and then… kissed her. And I mean really kissed her. Not a brotherly kiss or anything but a no-holds-barred French kiss from what I could tell. He rose up, a giggling Shalonda dangling from his neck, he staggered to the pool, and they both toppled in.

“I think I know why he wasn’t fired,” Dooley said.

The moment they resurfaced, there was more kissing, and before we knew what happened, Boa dispensed with Shalonda’s bathing suit and our world suddenly turned into an X-rated movie. The kind Odelia doesn’t allow us to watch. We both stared at the scene, transfixed, our jaws dropping.

“Um. I think I see what you mean, Dooley,” I said.

I wanted to avert my eyes but I couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck. You just can’t look away no matter how wrong you know it is.

“Max?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What are they doing?”

“It’s called sex, Dooley. It’s what humans do when they make a baby.”

“Oh. So they’re making a baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought they were trying to eat each other.”

“No. I’m pretty sure they’re making a baby.”

“Oh, all right.”

Five minutes later, they were through, and since they were both still alive, it was obvious I was right and Dooley wasn’t. They’d made a Kenspeckle. Shayonne seemed less impressed with her sister’s shenanigans than we were. She was sleeping, her mouth open, snoring softly. Not a pretty sight.

Shalonda emerged from the pool and plunked down on her chaise. She looked exhausted. Apparently making new Kenspeckles was hard work.

I searched around for the cameraman, wondering if he caught all that baby making with his camera, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Apparently making new Kenspeckles wasn’t part of the setup. This wasn’t Big Brother.

Just then, it was as if a bomb went off. Only it wasn’t a bomb but a leggy female with short raven hair and sunglasses covering half the acreage of her face. She strode up like a model on a catwalk, took one look at Shayonne, Shalonda and Boa, and bellowed, “Is this the way to greet your mother?”

Mother? And then I recognized her. Camille Kenspeckle had arrived. The original queen bee. She had a fur coat casually wrapped around her shoulders, and struck a pose, looking like the female version of Xander Cage.

Shayonne awoke with a start. When she caught sight of her mother, she squealed with delight, producing a sound so high only Dooley and I could hear it. And her sister, apparently, for Shalonda tumbled from the lounger, looked around dazedly, and scrambled up the moment she saw Camille. Both girls dashed around the pool and threw themselves into their mother’s arms. Boa, who’d been underwater when all this happened, emerged to the happy prattle of the reunion, and looked less thrilled. He probably feared for his employment. He stepped from the pool and approached the threesome.

“Hi, Camille,” he said.

“Boa. Where are they?”

Boa gestured to the guest house, and I got the impression they were talking about Odelia and Chase.

“Find them,” Camille ordered, “and bring them to me.”

She sounded like a warlord, ordering slaves to be fetched for execution.

Boa nodded curtly and stalked over to the guesthouse. Meanwhile, Dion and Damien had also joined the happy reunion, and even Kane had come running. The bulldog was yapping up a storm, barking at Camille as if he’d never seen her before, jumping up against Dion and Damien’s legs, barking at Shayonne and Shalonda and generally creating a big fuss.

“That dog is such an idiot,” Dooley said.

“He is,” I agreed. Staring at the dog, a thought occurred to me, but when I tried to catch it, it vanished. There was something about Kane. But what?

Oh, well. It probably wasn’t important.

Chapter 21