“Um… Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler?”

She nodded. “Give me a minute.” She produced a few more burps, then started belting out Bonnie Tyler’s biggest hit, a classic from the eighties. When we all covered our ears, and so did Vena, she smiled. “Looks like I’ve still got it.”

CHAPTER 28

Now that Odelia had ascertained that Harriet wasn’t pregnant—and also that she would live—she steered her car in the direction of the home of her aunt Charlene and Uncle Alec, not all that far from where we ourselves live. On the drive over, she peppered us with questions in connection to the bug spray that Gran had grand designs for, and when we told her that she planned to use it on women who were having trouble getting pregnant, a sort of mulish look came over her that I didn’t like to see. I had a feeling that very soon now Gran would discover that she wasn’t the only person in the family who was capable of putting her foot down.

She parked her car across the street from Charlene’s house, and we all got out. Harriet was still a little unsteady on her feet, and so Odelia picked her up and carried her over.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey,” said Odelia.

“I’ll be fine,” said Harriet. “At least I can still sing. That’s the most important thing. I haven’t lost my voice.”

Odelia smiled. “I don’t think you will ever lose your voice. That voice of yours is unique.”

“No, but there have been singers who have lost their voice,” Harriet said. “Like Julie Andrews, for instance. And it’s such a pity for she had such an amazing voice.”

“That’s true,” said Odelia. She placed Harriet down for a moment and peered in through the window next to the front door. When Charlene appeared, she waved at her, and the mayor immediately came to open the door.

“Oh, hey, honey,” said Charlene, and kissed her niece on the cheek. “I see you’ve brought your cats. How are they?”

“They’ve been through the wars,” said Odelia. “First that kidnapping last night, and now Gran got it into her head that it would be a good idea to use bug spray on Harriet to get her pregnant.”

Charlene laughed an incredulous laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Odelia assured her. “I didn’t catch her in time, or I would have stopped her, of course. But I’ve just been to see Vena, and she thinks she’ll be fine. Just a mild case of poisoning, but nothing that will have any lasting effect. Can I come in?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Charlene and stepped aside to let us all in. On the couch, we saw Rogelio reading a magazine. He looked up when he saw us and smiled. “Oh, hi there. So we meet again.”

“I’m sorry to bother you again, Mr. Hartshorn,” said Odelia. “But I wanted to ask you a few more questions, if I may.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “So have you found those men who shot at me?”

“No, they got away, I’m afraid,” she said. “But at least now we know who they are, even if we don’t know who hired them to try and kill you.”

“It’s still inconceivable to me that someone out there would want me dead,” he said. “I mean, this is definitely a first for any estate lawyer, I would say. This isn’t the kind of profession parents warn their kids about. More like they’re over the moon when you tell them you want to be a lawyer. Great job security, financial benefits—and you may get shot at repeatedly by a couple of gangsters.”

Odelia had taken a seat next to the man while Charlene disappeared into the kitchen. Her husband presumably had left for work, and so it was just us in the house—which is large and very modern, with plenty of glass and steel and concrete, but not in a cold and unpleasant way. We had stayed there before, so we considered Charlene’s home our home away from home and were happy to find ourselves on familiar ground for a change. Mostly Odelia conducts these interviews on the premises, and often it’s not what one expects: either more luxurious and outrageously opulent, or downright dilapidated and run down. This was neither, just a cozy little home designed for regular people like Charlene and Uncle Alec.

“Okay, so we’ve been in touch with the Abou-Yamen embassy,” said Odelia. “And they weren’t very helpful, I have to say. They didn’t want to answer most of our questions, and so we still don’t know a great deal about Prince Abdullah. Most of what we know is what we found on the internet, in fact, which is crazy when you come to think about it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all that much about the man myself, Mrs. Kingsley,” said the lawyer.

“Odelia, please. After all that we’ve been through, I think it’s safe to say we’re on a first-name basis.”

“Okay, fine,” he said with a smile. “As I told you, I never met the man face to face. We talked on the phone, and we set up our appointment, but apart from that, I don’t know more than what you do. Like you, I Googled him, of course, as it’s not every day that an actual prince requests a meeting. But I expected him to supply me with the information I needed when he dropped by for our meeting—which as we know now never took place.”

“All I know is that he’s married with three kids—all of whom are living in Abou-Yamen. And that it’s highly unusual for a member of the Abou-Yamen royal family to travel without an entourage or security detail.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said the lawyer.

“Also, the couple we have in prison right now, on suspicion of the prince’s murder, told us that he didn’t want to meet them in the hotel conference room as he was afraid it was bugged. He wanted to meet them in his suite where they could talk in private. Does that ring a bell?”

The lawyer nodded thoughtfully as a deep groove appeared between his brows. “It does, actually. I suggested we meet at the office, but he said he preferred we meet in a public place. He actually wanted to meet at the mall. Which I thought was a little strange.”

“And you have no idea why he was so adamant not to meet at your office?”

The groove deepened as the man dug into his recollections. “Um… I seem to remember that he said it was safer for him to meet in a public environment, where we wouldn’t be overheard. It all sounded a little James Bond to me, to be honest. But then I guess if you’re a prince of a royal house you’re entitled to a touch of eccentricity. And also, considering my line of work, whatever he wanted to see me about would have required the necessary discretion. We are dealing with inheritance matters, which are always very delicate.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Odelia. “And I’ve read online that the grandfather of Prince Abdullah is old and poorly, so maybe Prince Abdullah was expecting him not to live much longer and wanted to discuss his possible inheritance with you.”

“It’s possible.”

“Is there any reason you can think of why he wouldn’t consult an estate lawyer in his own country, one who is more familiar with local law, and instead wanted an American lawyer?”

“The principles of estate law are similar in different jurisdictions, even though some of the details will differ, of course. So maybe he wanted an outsider’s opinion on some of the advice he had received in his own country? Though I have to say that mostly the people who come to see me are interested in setting up their own estate. Making sure that everything is in order before they pass away.”

“He does have a wife and kids,” said Odelia.

“Maybe he was considering a move to the United States? And bringing his family along with him? In that case, he would have been covered by our laws in regards to inheritance, and if that were so, my advice would have been more apt than the advice of my Abou-Yamen colleagues.”

Odelia nodded thoughtfully. “One final question, if I may.”

“Of course. Shoot,” he said, then grimaced. “That’s probably not the right word under the circumstances.”

She had taken out her phone and showed pictures of Jonny Carew and Jerry Vale. “Do you recognize these men?”

He studied the pictures for a moment. “Are these …”

“Yes, these are the shooters. Both from last night and yesterday morning.”

He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen them before.”

“We think they were hired by a third party—the person behind this whole thing.”

“So what about the people you arrested yesterday? Maybe they’re also behind this?”

“They’re denying any involvement, either with the murder of the prince, or the shootings. And we haven’t been able to find a link with Vale and Carew either, or any phone calls or messages back and forth—not even any suspicious deposits or payments into their bank account. Unless of course they were using a second phone and a separate bank account.”

He handed her back her phone. “It’s extremely frustrating, as I have a lot of work to get back to. And I can only do so much by working remotely. So the sooner you find the person or persons responsible—or discover the reason why this is all happening, the better for me.” He held up his hand. “Not that I want to put undue pressure on you, of course, Odelia.”

“That’s all right. We’re used to working under pressure, my husband and I.”

“Is that unusual? A reporter and a cop collaborating?”

She smiled and settled back on the couch. Charlene came in with a tray carrying cups of coffee and cookies and distributed them among the present company, much to the delight of Odelia, who’s a real coffee nut. “Yes, it is a little unusual,” she agreed. “But it seems to work. My uncle says we make a great team, so he keeps sending us out in the field to catch killers and solve crimes.”