I headed back to the kitchen for breakfast and some information about the cat and the old lady’s kids. My old pal Bozier was slicing ham for Lady Glady’s morning meal.

“Hey man! You look all shook up. I reckon you just met Miss Emma and the boys,” he said shaking his head. They’re a piece of work. Not only do they hate my sandwiches, they’ll do anything to get their hands on the old lady’s money. I’ve never seen people so determined to get their hands on some money. And that’s saying a lot coming from me.”

Chef chuckled and put a plate of ham, boiled eggs and toasted white bread on a silver serving tray.

“You know that old cat wasn’t all that bad, if you stayed five or six feet away from it. He really did try to protect the old lady from those bad kids. They were jealous because the old lady spent all her money on that cat. Go ask that crazy gardener, he can tell you better than I can,” Bozier explained. “Those selfish, spoiled brats have been trying to get rid of that cat for years. But I just don’t understand how they could have finally gotten away with it. The cat was too mean for anybody but Lady Gladys to get close enough to kill it. One time a came around the corner when it was sunning itself in the court yard and that thing came at me like a bat out of hell. It was hissing and fur was flying everywhere. I had to climb the tennis court fence to get away and it still clawed away about three inches of pant leg. Lady Gladys would have seen or heard someone coming after her cat. If she wasn’t cradling it in her arms she was watching it from her bedroom window while it sunned itself in the garden. And while it was in the garden it was under Pinkney’s watch. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to the old lady’s cat. He hated that cat and everyone else. But that old man is loyal to Lady Gladys.“

I downed a few slices of toast, cracked open some boiled eggs, gulped down a glass of milk and two cups of coffee and went out to the garden to talk to Lucius Pinkney. It was the biggest meal I had eaten in weeks. I was starting to like my situation. If I had known the other half lived like this I might never have started hanging out in jazz clubs and gambling. I would have figured out a way to become the next Mr. Lady Gladys.

Pinkney was digging a cat sized grave just below the old Lady’s window. She was motioning to him as if she wanted it deeper and wider and Pinkney kept looking up at her, smiling, nodding his head and digging enthusiastically.

“Good morning Mr. Lucius” I said as politely as possible, looks like…”

“What you want now flat foot?” Lucius snapped impatiently before I could finish my sentence.

“I’m just here to ask some questions about Lady Glady’s cat,” I said, I pointing up at Lady Gladys waving.

“ Well, I ain’t never killed that ugly old cat; but I should have. He was always digging up my plants and pooping on my grass. I should have killed it, but her kids beat me to it.”

Lucius walked over to a shed. He gave me a dirty look and turned his back while he sifted through a ring full of keys and unlocked the door, as if he were opening up Fort Knox and I was a gold thief. He pulled out a tiny gravestone etched with the words, “Mr.Gilbert Fanciworth, faithful feline friend.” Lucius shook his head.

“It ought to say, ‘Goodbye and good riddance.’”

He motioned me into the shed.

“Look here,” he said, pointing to a shelf full of bottles and sharp objects. “Them kids have been trying to kill that cat for years. I dun caught them putting all this broken glass and rat poison in his cat food. One time I walked in on that girl trying to smother him in his sleep. The stupid one even threw him out a second floor window. But he was too dumb to know cats always land on their feet.”

Lucius shook his balding head, he lifted the lid of a tiny golden casket. A very stiff and cramped Mr. Gilbert Fanciworth was lying inside packed in ice.

“Even in death that old cat is still causing me trouble.” he said angrily. “You ever try to stuff a cat that size in a box this small? Lady Glady’s says I got to take him up to the hospital for an autopsy before I can bury him. Don’t that beat all? A dead cat with better medical care than me.”

“Thanks for the information Mr. Lucius,” I said as I turned to leave.

“Whatever Flatfoot,” he called out after me. “Don’t you step on my grass on your way out.”

Lady Gladys was standing in the window when I came out. I pulled my notebook and pen out of my pocket and held them up to show her I was hard at work. She didn’t crack a smile. Just as I stepped back into the house Antwan grabbed my arm and hurried me into an office.

“What the…” I said in a startled voice..

“Shhh! That nasty Miss. Emma is always listening,” Antwan said in a whisper. “I know exactly why Miss Lady’s kids killed her cat.”

He walked me over to a large mahogany desk and went shuffling through a drawer full of cat toys until he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper.

“Miss Lady drew up a new will last week. I found it here when I was cleaning up behind her cat,” he explained as he handed the document to me.

. It read:

“I give all my personal property and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property, to my beloved cat, Gilbert Fanciworth .My trusted servants shall act as my executors and provide Gilbert Fanciworth the life and treatment that he was accustom to during my lifetime. If Gilbert Fanciworth does not survive me, I give that property to those of my children who survive me, in equal shares, to be divided among them by my executors in their absolute discretion. My executors may pay out of my estate the expenses of delivering tangible personal property to beneficiaries.”

Antwan tapped me on the shoulder and shook his head.

“Mr. Detective, you have to find out how them bad kids killed that cat and let Miss Lady know what kind of greedy brats she is dealing with. But it’s almost time for Miss Lady’s daily detective update so go on back to your room and clean yourself up. She wants you to meet her in her sitting room and you smell like scotch and dead cat,” Antwan whispered as he wrinkled his nose.

I tiptoed out the room and headed down the corridor toward the courtyard. Jerome came rushing through and bumped into me. He dropped a claw hammer which made a loud thud when it hit the hardwood floor.

“Watch where you're walking detective,” he shouted, as he shoved me to the side. “You just stepped on my eight dollar cap toe oxfords.”

I stared down at Jerome’s fancy Italian leather shoes and the dirty hammer that had left a ding in the otherwise pristine flooring.

“What is a guy in eight dollar oxfords doing with a claw hammer,” I asked.

“Minding his own business,” Jerome said. He picked up the hammer and headed down the hallway. I followed him down to a basement workshop where he, Emma and Owen were packing a large wooden crate. The room was filled with imported artwork, clothing and furniture. It looked like a department store warehouse. Emma, Owen and Jerome weren’t getting the allowances they wanted from their mother so they found a way to make some extra spending money. They had been quietly collecting their mother’s trinkets, moving last season’s furniture out of storage and selling them off to the highest bidder. There were family portraits, vases, jewelry, rugs, tapestries and long forgotten trinkets that husbands one through five had amassed through their travels and business dealings. It was far too much stuff for a disinterested wife to keep track of and her greedy children were capitalizing on it. For three people who had never done an honest days work in their lives Jerome, Emma and Owen had a nice little business st up. Owen carried in the items he lifted from the carriage house storage closets or smuggle out of the attic. Jerome sawed and hammered wood to make crates and Emma carefully packed the merchandise. If their mother was going to be so selfish and give her fortune away to a stupid cat, Jerome, Owen and Emma decided they were going to make as much profit as they could while they had the chance.

They devoted every Thursday - from sunrise to sunset – building up their criminal inheritance enterprise. It was a sight to see those three blue blooded snobs in their designer clothes emerge from the basement covered in sweat, sawdust and grime.

The next two weeks proved to be an extremely interesting experience for me. Lady Glady’s rude, backstabbing criminal genius children bossed everyone around and snuck away to their secret basement workshop once a week where there labored to increase their take of the old lady’s estate. The servants tiptoed around running their lucrative liquor business behind the scenes while trying to help me prove how the brats killed the cat. I was having the time of my life living like a king and collecting more money than I ever did playing cards or practicing law. And then there was poor, clueless, lonely Lady Gladys who sat in her third floor window perch watching everything going on below and trusting no one