Purrfect Baby. Purrfect Mess. Purrfect Fuzz. Purrfect Love. Purrfect Paris

“Have you checked the movements of the different suspects in the case?” I asked.

“We’ve checked the alibis for everyone Dotty was involved with, and so far we’ve got nothing,” he said, more to himself than to me, for obvious reasons. I didn’t mind, though. At least we got an update on the case, even if we couldn’t directly participate.

“He’s clever, isn’t he, Max?” said Dooley admiringly. “And so thorough.”

“Yeah, he’s a good detective,” I said. “Doesn’t miss a trick.”

Finally Chase threw down his pencil and stretched.“What do you say we visit Odelia?” he suggested.

“Oh, can we!” Dooley cried.

He grinned at our visibly excited response and got up from behind his desk.“I’m not getting anywhere with this, so let’s just get out of here, fellas.”

And so once more we tripped behind Papa Duck, like the good ducklings that we were, and soon were on our way back to the hospital to visit Mama Duck and the real duckling.

Odelia was doing fine, and so was the little one, but it was obvious she couldn’t wait to go home and rest in her familiar surroundings. Even though maternity wards are designed to be hospitable, it’s not the same as being in your own home, of course.

“One more night, the doctors said.” She glanced down at the little one in her arms. “Though if it were up to me I’d be going home right now.” She glanced down at me and Dooley. “And how are you getting on with my fur babies?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” said Chase. “Spent the whole morning cooped up in the office with me.” He took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I have to say their presence is kinda… soothing.”

“Isn’t it?” said Odelia with a smile.

“Though to be honest with you, this investigation is going nowhere fast.”

“You’ll get there in the end,” she assured her hubby.

Chase wasn’t as confident as his wife, but her endorsement bucked him up. “So have you thought about a name yet?” he asked.

She smiled.“I liked that last name we discussed.”

“You sure?”

She studied her baby’s sleepy face. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, then I guess it’s decided. Welcome to the family—”

“Let’s not announce it just yet,” said Odelia quickly.

Chase looked down at us.“No, you’re right. The walls have ears.”

Dooley and I shared a look of concern. I’d never been referred to before as a wall with ears. Then again, maybe she was right. If she told us the name, we’d tell Marge or Gran, and before long, the whole town would know. Clearly they wanted to announce the name themselves, and to the gathered family all at once.

And as the little one slept, and Chase and Odelia watched on with loving pride, Dooley and I curled up at the foot of the bed, and were soon fast asleep ourselves.

It had been a pretty stressful couple of days, and we could use the repose.

Chapter 26

Chase had gone home, and so Dooley and I decided to pay a visit to Kingman. The investigation was clearly stuck, and now that Odelia was in the hospital and her focus was elsewhere, there was no sign that things would get unstuck any time soon. It was a little disconcerting, of course, to have two women murdered in cold blood and no killer coming into the frame of the team tasked with his or her apprehension.

“Hiya, fellas,” said Kingman, who was lying in front of his human’s store as usual. “What’s new?”

“Nothing much,” I said.

“Odelia’s had a baby,” said Dooley. “And she’s already got a name but we’re not supposed to know, because walls have ears. Did you know that walls could have ears, Kingman? Cause I looked very hard and I couldn’t find them.”

“It’s just something people say, Dooley,” said Kingman with a light chuckle. “Walls don’t actually have ears, unless there’s people behind them listening in.”

“I think Odelia was referring to us,” I said. “She clearly doesn’t want anyone to know the name before they’re good and ready to announce it.”

“Did they set up a dedicated Instagram page for the kid?” asked Kingman. “Cause that’s what a lot of parents do these days.”

“Why would a baby need an Instagram page?” I asked. “Aren’t they too young to post stuff?”

“It’s not the baby that’s going to post stuff, silly,” said Kingman. “It’s the proud parents who want to post pictures of their newborn so friends and family can follow their progress.”

“Oh, right,” I said. Frankly my mind hadn’t really been on the baby all that much. It irked me that we couldn’t solve the case, which was definitely a first for me.

“So what’s going to happen with you?” asked Kingman.

Dooley and I stared at our voluminous friend.“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Now that the baby has arrived. You’ll probably have to move out, right?”

“And why would you think that?” I asked, a fresh wave of concern rippling through me.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Baby comes, pets have to move out. Seems like a natural thing.”

“Well, for your information, Kingman,” I said, not hiding my annoyance, “it is not.”

“No, we’re staying put,” said Dooley. “Marge promised, and Marge’s word is her bond.”

“Mh,” said Kingman, not hiding his skepticism. “Let’s just wait and see, shall we? Wilbur’s niece had a cat, a very pretty Burmese, I might add, who got the boot when she had the baby. Cat ended up living with relatives until the baby was big enough.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Not this story again!” Frankly I’d had it with fearmongering.

“They promised, Max!” said Dooley, turning to me. “They solemnly swore!”

“And they’ll keep that promise, Dooley,” I said. “And don’t you believe otherwise.”

“I won’t,” he said, but it was obvious that doubt once again held him in its iron grip.

Just then, a woman came toddling up along the street. She was walking with a dog on a leash, and when we looked closer, we saw that it was none other than… Windex!

The woman entered Wilbur’s shop, but before doing so tied Windex’s leash to a metal bar outside that Wilbur has installed especially for his canine-loving clientele.

“Hey, you,” I said, greeting the tiny doggie like an old friend, which she now was.

“Hey, Max. Hey, Dooley,” said Windex, looking more happy than ever. “Kingman.”

“Windex,” said Kingman. “So how are things at the nursing home?”

“Oh, so you heard about that, did you? Well, pretty great so far. They’re all treating me like royalty back there, and of course the reunion with Eileen was heartwarming. Boy, was she glad to see me. And me to see her again, of course. She actually thought I’d been snatched by dog snatchers and sold to some Middle-Eastern maharajah for big bucks.”

Why a maharajah would pay big bucks for a dog that looks like a bat was frankly beyond me, but then Eileen Dobson was probably one of those pet parents that think their pet baby is the most beautiful and precious pet in all the world. Which, if you get right down to it, is what every pet parent thinks—and by extension every parent, period.

“Odelia had her baby,” I said, filling Windex in on the latest from our home front.

“Oh, that’s so great,” said our canine friend. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the park last night, but I’m still settling in, and Eileen wouldn’t have liked me wandering off in the middle of the night.” She grimaced. “I guess she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.”

“Totally understandable,” I said.

“So where are you on the investigation?”

“Nowhere,” I said honestly. “Plenty of suspects but nothing concrete.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Marsella deserves to be happy with Dewey, and as long as he’s a suspect that’s going to hang over them, won’t it?”

“I’d totally forgotten that you know Marsella,” I said.

“Oh, sure. She took such good care of me. And Shelley, too, of course.”

“If Odelia would have kicked us out we had decided we wanted Shelley to adopt us,” Dooley confessed.

“Who’s this Shelley person?” asked Kingman.

“She volunteers at the shelter,” I said. “Very sweet girl.”

“I hope she and Gavin will finally be happy,” said Windex.

“Shelley and Gavin? I didn’t know those two were an item.”

“Oh, absolutely. They’re actually engaged, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

“Shelley is secretly engaged?” said Dooley excitedly. “That’s so cool!”

“Why keep it a secret?” asked Kingman.

“Shelley’s dad isn’t too fond of Gavin,” Windex revealed. “The Ecclestons are a very wealthy family.”

“Cement, right?” I said.

“Yeah. And loaded. So Burke Eccleston, that’s Shelley’s dad, wants his little girl to marry someone with the same financial status, not the son of a local shoe salesman. Shelley introduced Gavin to him once and he told her not to let things get too serious. Said he didn’t think he was the right boy for her. But she and Gavin are in love, and so they got engaged last month and are planning to elope and get married in the summer.”

“That’s so romantic!” said Dooley.

“How do you know so much about it?” asked Kingman.

“I lived at that shelter, remember?” said Windex with a smile. “And I overheard every single conversation Shelley and Gavin had. My heart really bled for them, and I hope they’ll get their happy-ever-after at some point. Though if I understood correctly, the moment Shelley announces that she and Gavin are husband and wife, her dad will probably disown her and kick her out of the family firm, wanting nothing more to do with her. Which is so sad, really. But she doesn’t care. She’s going to marry Gavin anyway.”

“Ooh, I hope they’ll be together forever, and that one day her dad will realize what he’s done and will beg her forgiveness and she will give it,” said Dooley, the eternal romantic.

It was all food for thought, of course, and somehow it sparked an idea in my mind. It was a long shot, but at least it was something. And so I decided that when Odelia finally came home the next day, I’d tell her all about it so she could do some more digging.

I thanked Windex profusely, and the little doggie shrugged and said,“That’s what friends are for, Max.”

A warm glow spread out inside my chest. She was right. In the space of a few days, she’d gone from the devil’s brood to being a dear friend. Odd how quickly things change.

Chapter 27

The next day, Odelia came home, and was greeted by her loving husband and four cats.

I have to be honest and say that the four of us were feeling the strain of uncertainty, and were not fully at ease.

“This is it, Max,” said Brutus. “The moment of truth.”

“We can always go and live with Shelley and Gavin,” said Dooley. “Once they’re married they’ll want to share their home with us, I’m sure.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Harriet. “It’ll be just fine. Perfectly fine.” But the oddly disconcerted look in her eyes told an entirely different story.

Odelia walked in, her baby in her arms, and was both surprised and touched by the warm welcome. In her absence, Tex and Chase and Uncle Alec had been messing around upstairs, turning the guest room into a nursery. It wasn’t done yet, but Odelia was visibly pleased with this pleasant surprise. Though she did have one or two small amendments to make. The color of the walls, for one—she’s not a fan of lime green in general—and the curtains—those heavy pea-green drapes weren’t really suited for a nursery. But the baby’s crib was fine, though it would have to move into the bedroom for now, of course. All in all, the room itself was okay, as a space, but all the rest pretty much had to go.

Chase bore her criticism with fortitude and promised to take her comments on board.

And then it was time to sit down as a family, and to start our new life. The four of us were still very much in a state of suspended animation, so to speak. And as Odelia took a seat at the kitchen counter, and started nursing her baby, it took her a while to notice that we were sitting on the floor, more or less patiently, and anxiously staring up at her.

“Hey, you guys,” she said finally, after glancing in our direction once or twice. “Is everything all right?”

And then of course Dooley couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Do we have to go and live with Shelley and Gavin now, Odelia, cause if we do, you have to tell us, since they’re going off to get married soon, and might not be back for a while.”

She frowned.“Now why in heaven’s name would you go and live with Shelley and… Gavin, is it?”

Dooley nodded furiously.“Because Kingman said that babies and cats don’t mix!”

“Oh, God, not with that old story again,” said Odelia. “Look, I’m going to tell you one final time: nothing has changed. You’re my cats and you’ll always be my cats. And the fact that our family now consists of one extra member doesn’t make any difference at all.”

And to emphasize her words, just then the little one opened her mouth to give a loud sort of scream.

“Now now, Gracey,” said Odelia soothingly. “Everything is all right, sweetie.”

“Gracey?” asked Harriet. “Is that the baby’s name?”

Too late, Odelia realized her faux-pas. She took it in stride.“I guess I might as well tell you. Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus—meet Grace Kingsley. Grace, meet my precious fur babies. They’re the best friends any human could ever hope to meet.”

Grace Kingsley took one good look at us and started screaming the house down.

At least now we knew: we were there to stay, no matter what Kingman said.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Odelia,” I announced quietly, once Grace had decided to settle down. And so I told her about the idea I’d had concerning the case.

“Are you sure?” she asked with a look of concern.

I nodded.“Pretty much. You’ll have to check, of course.”

“I will,” she said, giving my words some further thought. “Oh, dear. If what you’re saying is true, she’ll be devastated.”

“I know, but that can’t be helped.”

“No, of course not.” She got up with some effort. “Well, I’ll tell Chase and he can get the ball rolling.”

“How do you want to play this?” I asked, watching with concern how she moved with some difficulty.

She gave me a smile.“I’ll be fine, Max. In fact we’ll all be fine now.” She gave Grace a tender kiss on the chubby cheek. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

She shouldn’t have said that, of course, for Grace obviously was just like us: she didn’t like to be disturbed when she was sleeping peacefully. Unlike us, though, she gave vent to her annoyance by opening her mouth and pretending to be a fire alarm.

The four of us quickly skedaddled, out through the pet flap and into the backyard.

Of all the contingencies we’d anticipated, the fact that we wouldn’t be able to get any sleep was one I hadn’t accounted for.

“I told you that babies can get pretty loud, Max,” said Dooley, who had of course foreseen this scenario. “They can get as loud as jumbo jets.”

“For the hundredth time, Dooley,” I said. “Babies are not jumbo jets.”

“You could have fooled me,” Brutus grumbled with a pained grimace.

“How something so small can make so much noise is a mystery to me,” said Harriet.

Inside the house, Grace was still continuing her imitation of a fire drill, and making her mommy and daddy wonder if A) she didn’t particularly like her parental unit, B) she had somewhere else to be or C) she was practicing to become the next Mariah Carey.

I had the impression they were secretly hoping for the latter, but fearing for the first. I could have put their minds at ease, though. Any baby would have been lucky to land a couple of parents like Odelia and Chase. And pretty soon she’d realize this and relax.

Or so I hoped.

Chapter 28

We were back at the shelter, paying a visit to the office where we found Marsella. Shelley and Gavin were also there, wondering what all the fuss was about, and we were all seated in the small office behind reception. It was Marsella’s office, and the walls were bedecked with posters decrying people to take better care of their pets, and that ‘A dog is for life, not just for Christmas,’ something I think we could all wholeheartedly agree on, even though personally I would have replaced the word ‘dog’ with ‘cat.’

There was a small desk and a table where a couple of people could sit, and where Marsella held her weekly staff meetings, even if her staff consisted of volunteers.

Marsella was seated at the head of the table, with Chase, Odelia, Shelley and Gavin distributed amongst the other seats.

Dooley and I had been relegated to the floor, but that wasn’t a hardship, as we’d discovered a bowl with kibble, and were happily tucking in. I wasn’t sure if it was dog kibble or cat kibble but then beggars can’t be choosers. It tasted great all the same.

“So what’s going on?” asked Marsella, leading the meeting—or so she thought.

“You’re probably aware that we’ve been investigating the murders of two women,” said Chase, opening proceedings. “Dotty Ludkin, also known as Dotty Berg, and Calista Burden, also known as Calista Dunne. Both women were strangled in their respective homes last week.”

“Yes, of course,” said Marsella. “But what does that have to do with me? I already told you that I never met either of these women, and I’m pretty sure Dewey didn’t, either.”

“Dewey told us that he hadn’t met Dotty recently,” Odelia clarified, putting the emphasis on the last word, causing Marsella to frown, “and now we think he was telling us the truth. You see, Dotty and Calista were involved in a scheme whereby they offered their services to take potential husbands for a test run, as they called it. Dotty would try to seduce them and if they failed, their clients would know they weren’t marriage material. If they didn’t fall for Dotty’s charms, they could count themselves lucky.”

“What a perverse setup,” said Shelley. “I never heard of such a thing.”

“Did a lot of women go for this arrangement?” asked Marsella.

“Yes, they did,” said Odelia. “By all accounts Calista was very successful, and made a lot of money in a short amount of time. And so did Dotty. So much so that she told her boyfriend that soon she’d have enough money to buy an apartment or even a house.”

“I can’t imagine trying to trick your fianc? into that kind of thing,” said Shelley.

“Yeah, me neither,” said Marsella, though she appeared thoughtful now.

“Which brings us to you, Shelley,” said Odelia, turning her attention on the young volunteer. “We heard through the grapevine that you and Gavin are secretly engaged?”

Shelley’s cheeks colored, and so did Gavin’s. The young couple shared a look of confusion. “Who told you that?” Gavin demanded.

“Let’s just say a reliable source,” said Odelia, briefly glancing down at me.

“Is it true?” asked Chase. “Are you planning to elope and get married on the sly?”

“Well… yes,” Shelley admitted, even as Gavin shook his head, clearly annoyed.

“You’re getting married?” asked Marsella, who seemed completely surprised.

Shelley nodded.“I’m sorry I haven’t told you, Marsella, but it was important for us that no one knew. Not even our best friends.”

“But why elope?” asked Marsella. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s my dad,” said Shelley. “He has some very fixed ideas about the kind of husband I should marry.”

“And I don’t fit in with those ideas,” said Gavin. “Not rich enough for his taste, I guess.”

“Dad is afraid that I’ll marry someone who’s not in his class, whatever that means,” said Shelley. “And when I introduced him to Gavin the first thing he said was, ‘I hope you don’t plan to marry that guy, honey. He’s a frickin’ shoe salesman for crying out loud.’”

“I’m not justa shoe salesman,” said Gavin. “I stand to inherit my dad’s business.”

“Which is exactly what I told him, but he wasn’t impressed.”

“So you decided to elope and get married without your dad’s permission,” said Odelia.

Shelley nodded.“It seems like the best idea. He’ll kick up a fuss, but there won’t be anything he can do about it. By the time he finds out, it’ll be too late.” She gazed at her fianc? with loving eyes, and gave his hand a squeeze. “Won’t be long now before I’ll be Mrs. Gavin Blemish.”

“The problem is that your dad must have realized how serious you were about Gavin,” said Chase, “so he booked an interview with Calista Burden. Basically he asked her to set up a chance meeting between Gavin and Dotty, and see if she couldn’t get him to fall for her charms. He gave them allthe information he had on Gavin, which was extensive, since he’d also hired a private detective to find out as much as he could about Gavin’s past, especially the girls he dated and his sexual preference, and relayed this information to Calista. Dotty took this information and used it to set a trap for Gavin.”

Shelley’s jaw had dropped, and she regarded her fianc? with consternation written all over her features. “No, she didn’t. Gavin, tell me she didn’t.”

But Gavin had suddenly gone very still and quiet, and refused to meet Shelley’s eyes.

“It pains me to say this, Shelley,” said Odelia gently, “but I’m afraid the test was successful… from Calista and Dotty’s perspective, at least—and your dad’s, of course.”

“You had a date with this woman?” Shelley demanded. “This-this prostitute?” Gavin’s cheeks had flushed scarlet, extending both up and down his face. His ears were practically glowing, and he had bowed his head. His body language told us everything we needed to know, and Shelley cried, “Oh, my God, Gavin!”

“I’m sorry, all right!” the kid cried. “She was… very convincing.”

“In Gavin’s defense, Dotty made sure to transform herself so she looked exactly like the type of girl Gavin would fall for. She even made sure to get acquainted with some of his hobbies so she would be more convincing and have something to talk about.”

“She said she was an animal rights activist,” Gavin said quietly. “A true animal lover.”

“Gavin!”

“I know, and I’m sorry!”

“I don’t believe this,” said Shelley. “And you’re saying my dad set them up to this?”

“Yes, he did,” said Odelia.

“But… why didn’t he tell me about it? I mean, why didn’t he gloat?”

“Because your dad got the message from Calista that Gavin had passed the test with flying colors. That not only didn’t he fall for Dotty’s charms but he told her he was in love with another girl and he planned to marry her and make her happy.”

Shelley frowned.“I don’t get it. Why would this Calista person do that?”

Odelia took a deep breath.“Because it wasn’t Calista writing that message, but Gavin.”

Shelley seemed confused for a moment, then finally understanding dawned.“No,” she said in a low voice. “Oh, please God, no!”

“I’m afraid so,” said Chase. “Once we suspected Gavin, we tracked his movements for that night. His dad told us he said he was going out to a club, and from that point it wasn’t hard to reconstruct the events as they unfolded.” He placed a series of pictures on the table in front of theyoung couple: a picture of Gavin and Dotty on the dance floor, one of them at the bar. A picture of the two of them walking along a street at night, and one in his car driving away. “Notice the time code,” said Chase. “Ten forty-five on the night Dotty and Calista were both murdered. We also searched your apartment, Gavin, and found Dotty and Calista’s phones and laptops. So will you tell us what happened, exactly?”

Gavin, who’d hung his head, spoke haltingly, clearly deeply ashamed of what he’d done. “I left Dotty’s apartment around midnight, but realized I’d left my phone so I went back to grab it. The door wasn’t locked so I pushed it open. She was on the phone, reporting to her boss about how the night had gone. She said I’d fallen for her like a sucker, and how happy Burke would be with her work. Said I’d been the easiest mark she’d ever had and that fat bonus Burke had promised was theirs.

“So I confronted her, and she confessed that she was working for your father. That he was going to tell you everything. That they had pictures, video, the works, and that I was never going to see you again.” He rubbed his cheek. “I don’t know, I just suddenly saw red. I don’t even remember what happened next, but when I came to my senses, she wasn’t moving. She just lay there, staring up at me—dead. I just sat there for a while, realizing what I’d done, and thinking about what I needed to do to make sure this never came back to me. So I took her phone and checked it for the address of her boss. I drove over there and…” His voice faltered, and a tear slid down his cheek.

“It didn’t hurt that you had some experience breaking into people’s homes,” Chase supplied. “I found a conviction for B&E in the distant past. Something I should have seen sooner, only you weren’t on our radar then.”

“I was a rebellious kid,” said Gavin. “After my mom died I got involved with a pretty bad crowd. It drove my dad up the wall. But after I was caught and convicted I turned my life around. I never offended again.”

“Until now with Dotty and Calista.”

He nodded silently, ashamed to look his fianc?e in the eye.

“So you broke into Calista’s place, strangled her—”

Shelley released a moan that was a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

“—and sent that reassuring message to Shelley’s dad, telling him the test had failed, and that as far as she was concerned you’d make a great addition to the family.”

“Once I started down this road, I had no other choice but to finish it,” said Gavin quietly. “Calista knew Dotty was with me. She’d have told the police and I’d be done for.”

“How could you be sure that no one else knew about this?” asked Chase.

He shrugged.“I couldn’t. But it stood to reason that if they used encrypted apps, the only people who knew would be Dotty and her boss. And besides, what other choice did I have at this point? I just had to hope and pray that no one else would find out.”

“Unfortunately we did find out,” said Odelia.

“But how?” asked the kid now, looking up at her. “I was so careful.”

“I know you were, but clearly you weren’t careful enough.”

Shelley, who’d gone through different stages of shock, was now at the stage where she was slowly coming to terms with the fact that her fianc? hadn’t merely cheated on her, but was also a double murderer.

“This doesn’t have to change anything for us, Shel,” the young man pleaded. “Okay, so I messed up, and I’m sorry, but I promise that Dotty didn’t mean anything to me. It’s you I love. You see, I was tricked. It was your dad who tricked me. I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Yes, you did,” said Shelley. “You had a choice, Gavin. You always had a choice. And instead of choosing me, you chose Dotty.”

“But I’m telling you, it was just a fling.”

“You killed two women, Gavin!” She’d risen to her feet and stood, hands balled into fists. “You’re a murderer! A killer!” And then she fled the room on a loud, desperate sob.

For a moment, no one spoke, then Chase said,“Gavin Blemish, I’m arresting you for the murders of Dotty Ludkin and Calista Burden.”

“Oh, God, what have I done!” Gavin cried.

“Nothing good,” Dooley murmured next to me.

Chapter 29

We were in Tex and Marge’s backyard, enjoying a fine spread of delicious foods, as offered by the proud new grandparents. You could have called it a baby shower, but in actual fact it was our regular Saturday night barbecue, only with the addition of a new family member: Grace Kingsley.

“I wonder if Grace will be able to talk to us, too,” said Dooley. The little one was tucked in bed, with a baby monitor in place in case she woke up. And if that wasn’t enough, Odelia or Chase got up pretty much every five minutes to go and check on her.

“I hadn’t actually thought of that,” I admitted. “But I guess she will. She’s a female descendent, so Odelia’s gift will probably pass down to her.”

“Oh, yay,” said Harriet. “Finally a little princess who’ll appreciate a fellow princess.”

“How soon do you think she’ll start talking?” asked Brutus.

“When do babies start talking?” I said. “I have no idea, actually.”

“Odelia will know. She’s been reading all those books,” said Dooley.

“And watching all those documentaries,” I added. And unfortunately we had to watch them along with her. Though since we’d slept through most of them, not much of the information had stuck with us.

“So you solved another case, didn’t you, Maxie baby?” said Brutus, a touch of envy in his voice. “How do you do it? Case after case after case? I get tired just thinking about it.”

“It’s a knack,” said Harriet. “Like some cats can jump very high, Max solves mysteries.”

“It’s because he has such a big brain,” said Dooley proudly. “Someone should measure it, but I’ll bet that Max’s brain is probably as big as any human’s. Or maybe even bigger.”

“You should donate your brain to science, Max,” said Brutus. “In fact you could donate it now. I’m sure those scientists will be very pleased.”

Dooley frowned.“But how can Max donate his brain when he still needs it?” But then he got a bright idea. “Maybe he can loan it to science. Like, for a week or something? And then they can give it back.”

“I’m afraid that once you donate your brain to science you don’t get it back again, Dooley,” I said, not too bothered by Brutus’s barbs.

“What do you mean!” Dooley cried. “Those scientists have to give it back. Otherwise it’s stealing!”

“You only donate your brain when you’re dead, Dooley,” said Harriet with an eye roll.

“Dead! But they can’t make Max dead!”

“Nobody is going to make me dead,” I assured him, and darted a look at Brutus to say, ‘Now look what you’ve done.’

Brutus shrugged and displayed a small grin.“So tell us about your case, Max. I can see you’redying to.”

“I’m not dying to tell you about my case, Brutus,” I said.

“One thing isn’t clear to me,” said Harriet. “How did Shelley’s dad find out about her secret engagement if they didn’t tell anyone?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t have heard it from Windex,” said Brutus.

“Actually he heard it from the jeweler where the couple bought their engagement rings,” I said. “The jeweler recognized Shelley and gave her dad a call. You see, Burke and the jeweler are both members of the Rotary Club, and the jeweler knew how particular Burke Eccleston was about his daughter’s suitors, especially after Shelley’s mom died a couple of years ago. So Burke hired a private eye to have Gavin investigated, and when he heard about Calista’s unique service, figured it was the only way to convince Shelley that she was about to make a big mistake. And as it turns out, he was right, of course.”

“Poor Shelley,” said Dooley. “She looked so sad.”

“She looked furious,” I corrected him. “And I’m sure she’ll land on her feet.”

“Next time she gets engaged she’ll be more careful, though,” said Harriet. “She won’t buy her engagement rings from one of her dad’s friends.”

“Or maybe next time she’ll find a boyfriend her dad approves of,” said Brutus.

“Whatever the case, I think it’s safe to say that Shelley is better off without Gavin,” I said. “If the guy saw red when Dotty revealed he’d been tricked, I can’t imagine what he’d do when he got mad with Shelley at some point. He probably would have killed her, too.”

“But they were so in love!” said Dooley.

“Couples rarely stay in love for perpetuity, Dooley,” I said. “Relationships go through ups and downs, and if Gavin killed Dotty because she was going to mess up his relationship with Shelley, that doesn’t bode well for the future. No, all things considered Burke Eccleston probably saved his daughter’s life by his unusual initiative.”

“I still think it’s a pretty rotten thing to do,” said Harriet. “Imagine if all dads hired a prostitute to ‘test’ their daughters’ fianc?s. It would be a pretty strange world.”

We all looked at Tex, and I think we were wondering if he would have hired Calista to put Chase to the test before he gave his blessing for the cop’s relationship with Odelia.

And our humans must have been thinking along the same lines, for at that moment Gran said,“When your daughter is of age, and she starts dating boys, are you going to hire a hooker to test them, Chase?” Judging from her mischievous grin she knew exactly how provocative her question was, but still decided to ask it.

“I doubt it,” said Chase, with a quick glance to his wife. “When Grace comes home with a boy one day—far, far,far into the future—I intend to put the fear of God into him, and tell him I’ll wring his pimply neck with my bare hands if he dares to hurt my little girl.”

Uncle Alec grinned.“I think that should do the trick.”

“I wish my dad had done the same for me,” said Gran. “Then I wouldn’t have been saddled with that no-good husband of mine.”

“If you hadn’t been saddled with that no-good husband of yours,” said Marge, “then I wouldn’t be here, and nor would Alec. And that means Odelia wouldn’t be here either, or Grace.”

“You have to take the good with the bad, honey,” said Scarlett. “Such is life.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gran grumbled, and took a sniff from her lamb cutlet.

“Where’s Dallas, by the way?” asked Marge. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”

“Yeah, I kinda lost track of him,” said Gran moodily.

“Talk of the devil,” said Charlene, and gestured with her head to a man who’d just rounded the corner. It was of course Dallas de Prav?, Gran’s Finnish billionaire. He was accompanied by a smallish man with spectacles, whom we’d never seen before.

“Greetings!” the smallish man said, making an all-encompassing gesture. “At this time Mr. de Prav? would like to say a few words.”

“Who are you?” asked Gran, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“My name is Troy Packer, and I work for the Finnish Embassy as a translator,” said the man. “Mr. de Prav? came to us this morning, and together we’ve come to the conclusion that there seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding?” asked Gran. Then her face fell. “Don’t tell me he’s gay.”

“Mr. de Prav? isn’t gay, but Mr. de Prav? is very impatient to discover why you have been waiting so long to show him your muffin maker.”

Gran blushed scarlet at this.“Do we really have to do this in front of my entire family?”

“If you don’t mind,” said Troy.

“Oh, very well then,” said Gran. “Tell him I haven’t shown him my muffin maker because he hasn’t shown me his sausage maker. And it’s not for lack of trying on my part. I’ve tried to kiss him plenty of times, but he doesn’t seem interested.”

“I don’t understand,” said Troy, displaying a confused frown.

“Look, I’m a simple woman,” said Gran. “No sausage, no muffin. All clear now?”

“But… Mr. de Prav? doesn’t make sausages. Mr. de Prav? owns a chain of bakeries.”

“Be that as it may, I have my standards,” said Gran stubbornly. “I don’t put out if he doesn’t put out. Fair is fair.”

Dallas de Prav? now burst forth into speech, producing a flow of words that was frankly impressive, seeing as we’d hardly heard his voice in all the time he’d been with us.

Troy nodded a few times very gravely, then said,“Mr. de Prav? says that he’s still very interested in visiting your muffin factory, but unfortunately it would have to be now. He has an important engagement coming up and will have to leave for Finland tomorrow.”

Gran’s flushed face had turned even darker. “He wants to see my muffin… now?!”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Troy with a courteous bow. “As you Americans like to say: it’s now or never.” He flashed a most toothy grin. “So please show us your muffin, madam!”

“Well, of all the damn cheek!” Gran cried.

The loud and resounding report of two slaps echoed through the air, and for a moment all was quiet. Two men stood rubbing injured cheeks, and massaging hurt egos, then Dallas once more erupted into a stream of words, this time accompanied by a lot of angry gestures and even angrier looks thrown in Gran’s direction.

“Mr. de Prav? would like you to know that he has no more interest in your muffins,” said Troy sadly. “And also he demands an apology. When you told him aboard the cruise vessel that you owned a company called Vesta Muffin and subsequently invited him over for a visit, he took your word for it that you wanted to go into business together. Now he’s not so sure.”

“I don’t own a muffin company,” said Gran. “Myname is Vesta Muffin.”

As Troy translated these words, the rest of the family broke into soft titters of amusement. Finally Dallas stood nodding as he listened carefully, then flashed a smile.

“So you mean to say you don’t want to sell your muffins to Mr. de Prav??” asked Troy, just to be sure.

“After the horrible things he just said to me? Absolutely not!” said Gran. “Tell him loud and clear so there is no mistake: no more muffins! This shop is closed for business!”

“But Gran,” said Odelia. “That man thought you owned a muffin factory. All he wanted was to buy your muffins and sell them in his chain of bakeries back home in Finland.”

“Well, he blew his chance now, didn’t he?” Gran fumed. “With his indecent proposals.”

“But Vesta,” said Chase. “Don’t you see? It’s all been one big misunderstanding!”

“I’ll bet it has. I thought I finally found a decent billionaire and it turns out he’s a pervert and a lecher! And me, a great-grandmother!”

“I like muffins,” said Charlene with a grin. “Very tasty.”

“Oh, don’t you muffin me, young lady,” said Gran.

Troy had continued to translate, and Dallas now seemed to have understood all, for he stood laughing with distinct relish, his stocky frame shaking with honest mirth.

“Very funny!” he cried, wagging his finger in Gran’s face.

“Well, I don’t think it’s funny at all,” said Gran. She turned to Chase. “Can’t you arrest him for indecent exposure or something?”

But before Chase could respond, Dallas had grabbed Gran’s hand and pressed a most gallant kiss on it. Then he smiled at her and said, “I like American Muffin!” And then he was off, Troy Packer in his wake. And as they walked away, stage left, they were both laughing heartily.

“What an idiot,” Gran muttered, then sighed. “And he seemed so promising.”

“At least he said he likes you,” said Scarlett, patting her hand consolingly.

“Yeah, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “He said he likes your muffins. What more do you want?”

“What are they talking about, Max?” asked Dooley. “What’s all this stuff about Gran’s muffins?”

“I’ll explain to you later, Dooley,” I told him.

“When, Max?”

I thought for a moment.“When Grace is old enough to understand.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. And lay down his head and went to sleep.

So easy. Maybe from now on I’d use that line more often. After all, it would be years before Grace reached that age when she started asking the difficult questions. The kind of questions Dooley always asked. Years and years and years.

Then again, maybe not. She was, after all, Odelia’s daughter, Marge’s granddaughter and Gran’s great-granddaughter. Which meant we were in for some interesting times.

50. PURRFECT MESS

CHAPTER 1

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“Do you think James Bond could be played by a cat?”

It was one of those questions that makes you think, and so think is what I did.“What brought this on?” I said in an attempt at prevarication.

“Chase said that they’re looking for a new actor to play James Bond, since the previous one feels he’s too old for the role, and Odelia said they might pick a woman this time. So I was wondering why not a cat, you know?”

“I like your thinking, Dooley,” I said. “Why not a cat indeed?”

“I mean, the time that only middle-aged white males could play James Bond is well and truly behind us. And to appeal to a larger demographic they should consider their options. And everybody likes cats, so they’ve got that pre-existing audience.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. We’d only recently watched a James Bond movie on television, all of us cozily ensconced in the living room, the humans riveted to their TV set, and us cats wondering what all the fuss was about as usual. “Though it might be hard to find a cat that fits thepart,” I said, my thought processes a little sluggish on this, a lazy Saturday morning in the Kingsley home.

Dooley and I were in the backyard, enjoying those first few rays that do so much to warm up one’s bones, the dewy grass nice and cool against my belly. Our humans—Odelia and Chase—were still in bed, and so was baby Grace, the latest addition to the clan.

“Brutus could do it,” said Dooley. “He’d be perfect for the role.”

“You’re forgetting one thing, my friend,” I said. “James Bond has a license to kill, and to do that he needs to be able to handle a gun, and since cats aren’t naturally equipped by an otherwise wise and benevolent creator to handle a firearm, I think Brutus would be dropped from the lineup at his first audition. In fact he probably wouldn’t even make it past the first selection.”

This was enough to give my best friend pause. At least for a few minutes. But then he rallied.“Maybe they can adopt a strict no-gun policy? Brutus could use his claws when he’s under attack. I’ll bet he can be equally lethal—or even more so—with his claws than by using a gun. He could be the new gun-less Bond.”

“True, true,” I admitted. Though frankly I had a feeling the James Bond aficionados might not agree if after sixty years the famous franchise suddenly went firearm-free. Then again, the question was probably moot, since as far as I knew, Brutus had never expressed an interest in being the next Bond.

“I bet they’ll cast a dog,” Dooley said moodily. “They always do.”

“A dog would make a great spy,” I said, trying to cheer him up. “Dogs are very photogenic. And popular, too. I’ll bet if the next Bond was a dog it would be a big hit.”

“Who would be a hit?” suddenly asked a voice in my rear.

It was, of course, our friend Harriet. She and her boyfriend Brutus now came sashaying in our direction, straight from the rose bushes where they like to spend some quality time of a morning—or an afternoon or even a night.

“The new James Bond,” said Dooley without looking up. “They’re casting a dog.”

“A dog!” said Brutus. “You’re not serious.”

“Dooley is simply speculating,” I hastened to say.

“Isn’t that just typical?” Harriet scoffed. “It’s always the same pets who have all the luck. I’m telling you, it’s a dog’s world out there, and us cats are always picked last.”

“Dooley was just saying how you’d make the perfect Bond,” I said, trying to interject a modicum of optimism and cheerfulness into the conversation.

“I know,” said Harriet, simpering a little.

“No, I actually meant Bru—”

“I’d make some changes, of course,” she blithely went on. “For one thing I’d make sure they drop that dreadfully dreary color scheme.” She sighed excitedly. “I’m seeing lots of pinks and yellows. Maybe even some powder blue. And of course only happy faces from now on. Happy happy happy. And maybe we could do a big dance number to open the movie, with lots and lots of showcats, like inLa La Land.” She gave her partner a coy look. “My name is Bond. Harriet Bond.”

“Excellent,” Brutus murmured, though I could tell he wasn’t as happy as he could have been at this example of creative casting. And you have to admit: Brutus Bond does have a nice ring to it. Better than Max Bond at any rate. Or even Dooley Bond.

Then again, it was no use speculating, since no Bond producer in their right mind would ever cast a cat in the coveted role of Ian Fleming’s famous secret agent. Cats are simply too cute. And a cute Bond is a big no-no. And so instead of thinking of ways and means of saving the planet from a dastardly evil genius and his henchmen, Harriet joined us on the lawn, and let the sunlight play about her noble visage.

Brutus, meanwhile, ventured into the house to subject his food bowl to a spot check, and as the birds tweeted in a nearby tree, and a neighbor took his lawnmower for a test run, I soon found myself drifting off to sleep. And I probably would have dreamt of Bond girls and fancy cars and nifty spy gadgetry if not suddenly a fire engine started screaming nearby.

We were wide awake within milliseconds, and it took me a while to realize it wasn’t a fire that was about to consume some innocent home, but baby Grace who had decided that she required nourishment and she required it right now!

“Oh, dear,” said Harriet, once she had her heartbeat under control again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that terrible sound.”

I could have told her that if she was going to be the next James Bond, there probably were worse things she needed to tackle than the sound of a hungry infant, but I wisely kept my tongue.

We all directed a curious look at the upstairs window, behind which I could easily picture the homely scene that was now playing out: Chase and Odelia would have immediately woken up, and were presumably staggering, still sleep drunk, in the direction of the cradle that housed the source of all this clamor. Moments later, the screaming stopped, and we all shared a look of satisfaction. Odelia had done it again: she’d managed to tame the savage beast that lurks behind the pure face of innocence.

“Who knew that such a tiny human could produce such a big sound?” said Harriet, shaking her head in wonder.

“She’ll have a great career as an opera singer,” said Dooley. “She already has the volume, now all she has to do is work on expanding her repertoire.”

He was right. So far Grace’s performances kept within the one-note range.

From next door, Fifi came trotting up. Fifi is a Yorkshire Terrier, and probably one of the nicest dogs alive—and I don’t say this lightly, as everyone knows that most dogs are foul creatures who like nothing better than to chase cats up trees.

“Kurt isn’t happy, you guys,” she said as she joined us.

“Kurt is never happy,” I said. Kurt is Fifi’s human, and our perpetually grumpy next-door neighbor. Though what he isn’t happy about tends to vary day by day.

“What isn’t he happy about this time?” asked Brutus, popping out through the pet flap, satisfied that his bowl still contained the necessary foodstuffs.

“It’s the baby,” said Fifi. “He says she’s way too loud, and if this keeps up he’s going to file a noise complaint.”

“Good luck with that,” said Brutus. “Doesn’t he know Grace’s dad is a cop?”

“Oh, he knows, which is why he won’t file the complaint in Hampton Cove. He’s going straight to the top.”

“The top?” I asked, intrigued. “You mean the Mayor?”

“The Governor,” said Fifi. “He’s going to claim that his rights as a citizen and a taxpayer are being trampled on. And he says there’s a precedent.”

“What precedent?”

“Remember how they wanted to build an airport in Happy Bays last year and how the neighbors successfully petitioned against it? Well, he says the same principle applies.”

I have to confess we were all a little flabbergasted, but finally I pointed out,“A baby isn’t an airplane, Fifi.”

“Max is absolutely right,” Dooley chimed in. “For one thing, babies don’t fly.” He turned to me. “Do they?”

“No, Dooley,” I said. “Babies don’t fly.”

“Unlike the storks that deliver them,” said Dooley with a nod in my direction.

“I know that,” said Fifi, ”and Kurt knows that, but he says she makes the same noise as a jumbo jet, and since he was here first, that dreadful baby has to go. And if the Governor doesn’t get rid of her, he’s taking his case up to the President.”

“Dreadful baby?” said Harriet. “Did he really call Grace a dreadful baby?”

“Actually he used a much stronger term,” said Fifi with a touch of bashfulness. “But I don’t want to be rude.”

“Kurt isn’t a very nice person,” said Dooley.

“He’s nice to me,” said Fifi. “But you’re right. He’s not very nice to other people.”

“And babies,” said Dooley.

“Babies are people, too, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Only they’re a lot smaller.”

“They’re like miniature people,” Brutus explained with an indulgent smile. “They have tiny toes and tiny fingers and tiny ears and a tiny nose and—“

“Yes, yes, we get the picture,” I interrupted my friend’s vivid word picture of what, exactly, constitutes a human baby.

“They’re not really going to get rid of Grace, are they, Max?” said Dooley, a look of concern now marring my friend’s funny little face.

“Of course not,” I said. “The whole idea is ridiculous.”

Still, I have to admit I wasn’t sanguine about Fifi’s report, straight from the front lines. Kurt has been known to throw the odd shoe in our direction, you see, expressing in word and gesture his displeasure with our vocal performance of an evening. Was it so hard to imagine the lengths he’d go to to rid himself of an admittedly vociferous infant? After all, no man is born a shoe thrower. As a young boy Kurt probably threw matches at passing cats, then gradually worked his way up to twigs and sticks, then shoes, and now he was moving into the baby removal business. If he kept this up, pretty soon he’d morph intoa full-fledged Bond villain and construct a secret lair underneath his lawn so he could destroy the world.

CHAPTER 2

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Vesta Muffin hadn’t slept well. Now she’d read in some magazine that once you reach a certain age you need less shut-eye but lately she’d been more awake than asleep during those restless nights. It had become so bad she’d developed a habit of getting up in the middle of the night and going for a midnight walk around the block. The fresh air and the brisk exercise usually tired her out to such an extent that by the time she tumbled into bed again, she slept like the proverbial baby… until what seemed like moments later it was time to start her day.

She’d talked to Tex, her son-in-law, who was a doctor and was supposed to know about this stuff, but he’d merely offered her some platitudes about old age that she hadn’t appreciated in the least.

“Old age, my foot,” she now muttered as she threw off the comforter and swung her feet to the floor. Once again she felt she hadn’t enjoyed nearly enough sleep, and feared that if this kept up, she might even develop issues with her ticker. Hadn’t she read somewhere that insomnia could leadto heart problems?

“Chamomile tea,” her daughter Marge had advised. “And no screens before bedtime.”

“I hate tea, and I never had trouble falling asleep after watching TV before.”

“I’m not talking about TV, Ma. I’m talking about your phone.”

“My phone? What’s wrong with my phone?”

“Blue light,” Marge had said, rather mysteriously, she thought.

“Blue light, my ass,” she said as she threw her curtains wide to see what the weather was like. The sun was benevolently splashing its rays across a grateful world, but Vesta squinted, giving it the evil eye. “Sunlight, that’s the problem,” she said. Maybe she had to move up North, where they never had any light, blue or otherwise. Wasn’t there some place in Alaska where they never got any light at all? Months and months of utter and complete darkness? Now that would probably lull her to sleep—a nice long winter sleep. Like a bear. Or a hedgehog. Then again, since she hated the cold, that probably wasn’t an option either.

She sighed deeply and shuffled out of her room and into the bathroom, which, lucky for her, hadn’t yet been occupied by the rest of the household. With a flick of the wrist, she locked the door, and started the tedious daily ritual of addressing her personal hygiene needs—which were plenty and getting greater every day.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

Tex awoke with a start, lifting his head half an inch from the pillow then letting it fall back again with a groan of dismay. It was his fervent wish that one morning he’d be able to get up before his mother-in-law, so he could be the first one to occupy the bathroom, but so far he hadn’t yet succeeded in fulfilling this modest desire.

“We should have built a second bathroom,” he now told his wife, who was stirring next to him.

“We still could,” she muttered, her eyes firmly closed.

“But where? There’s no space for a second bathroom.”

“We could build one in the garden house,” Marge suggested.

He gave this some thought. It was an idea, of course. When they’d recently rebuilt the house, he’d suggested to the architect to squeeze in a second bathroom, but the man had convinced them it wasn’t feasible, nor was it necessary, since they were only three occupants. He’d pointed out that the man had never lived under the same roof as his mother-in-law, and the architect had given him a look of such compassion he’d been moved to tears and had never mentioned the topic again.

“We’ll never get permission,” he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“We could build it illegally,” said Marge.

He directed an indulgent smile at his wife of twenty-five years.“We’re talking major plumbing, honey. No plumber would touch the project without the necessary permits.”

Marge yawned and stretched, then gave him a yearning look.“For once in my life I want to be the first to get into the bathroom, Tex. The first one to take a shower.”

“I know,” he said. “Me, too.” He sighed a wistful sigh. “But as I get older I’m starting to realize it’s simply not in the cards for us. One of those pipe dreams like winning the lottery or finishing the crossword puzzle. We’ve been getting up earlier and earlier and she’s still beating us to it. The woman never sleeps.”

“And spends what seems like hours in there.”

“Worse than Odelia when she was a teenager.”

For a moment they both were silent as they contemplated ways and means of fixing a problem that had been vexing them since they’d invited Marge’s mom to share their home with them. “We could always hire one of those cowboy builders,” Marge suggested.

“You mean like the ones that destroyed our old home? Aren’t they in jail?”

“There must be others,” said Marge with a touch of desperation. “Others like them?”

He swallowed away a lump of unease. It was one thing to dream of going down a certain route, but quite another to actually go ahead and venture into illegality. Theirs had been a life built on a strict adherence to the rule of law. He never even jaywalked, and always dropped his litter in the appropriate receptacle. So the prospect of suddenly venturing into a life of crime gave him quite a jolt.

He blinked.“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse as he nervously licked his lips.

The voice of Marge’s mother suddenly rang out. She’d burst into song and was obviously taking one of those long, hot showers she loved so much, using up all the hot water and leaving nothing for the rest of the family.“I’m a poor, lonesome cowboy!” she was belting at the top of her voice.“And I’m a long way from home!”

Marge hesitated but for a moment, then nodded eagerly.“Let’s do it,” she whispered.

In spite of his misgivings, he whispered back,“Don’t tell your mother?”

Marge mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key.“Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die,” he murmured. “Though on second thought, maybe scratch that.”

“Let’s break the law, Clyde,” Marge smiled.

“Let’s build ourselves an illegal bathroom, Bonnie,” he smiled back.

And so it was decided. After walking the straight and narrow for forty-eight years—well, maybe forty-seven, since the first year of their lives they admittedly hadn’t done a lot of walking—Tex and Marge Poole were embracing the life of crime—and the pitfalls of DIY plumbing.

CHAPTER 3

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Grace had been washed and fed and was sleeping peacefully in her crib, and so Odelia sighed with relief as she nursed her cup of tea and took a breather at the kitchen counter. Chase had left for work and the house was suddenly very quiet, which was exactly the way she liked it. The cats were outside, escaping the din and hubbub a newborn baby inevitably brings, and since she was on maternity leave from work, frankly she had nothing to do and nothing to occupy her time but to take care of Grace.

She idly flipped through a few of the updates her boss had posted on theGazette website and found herself reading some of the articles her replacement had written with a critical eye. Then, realizing how silly she was being, she put down the phone and suddenly found herself wondering what she would do for the rest of the day.

Having spent all of her adult life occupied in gainful employment, this sudden lull in what otherwise was a modestly stellar career was a little disconcerting to say the least. Dan had told her to take it easy for a while, and not to spend even one second thinking about the job. And Chase had told her that from now on she wasn’t to even contemplate assisting him in his own job—no running around fighting crime with a baby tucked in her arms!—and even her uncle had said that her days of gleefully hobnobbing with notorious killers and other scum of the Hampton Cove underworld were finally over—and not a moment too soon!

But if she wasn’t a reporter, and she wasn’t a detective, then what was she?

Grace made a slight gurgling sound in her sleep and Odelia smiled. First and foremost, of course, she was a mother, and maybe that was enough. At least for now.

She did wonder how her cats felt about this whole transition to a more peaceful and uneventful life. Max had assisted her and Chase so many times in collaring criminals and identifying villains that he must be experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Though to be honest he seemed perfectly happy with this new phase in their lives. Content, even.

Just then, her phone vibrated and she immediately picked up, darting a quick glance to Grace. She lowered her voice, not wanting to wake up the baby and said,“Yes, Odelia Kingsley speaking?”

It was an unknown number, and even though she probably should adopt Gran’s stance on unknown callers: namely, to ignore them and when they don’t leave a message report them to your provider and then block them, she simply couldn’t. On your true reporter, worth their salt, a call from an unknown number acts very much like the proverbial red flag to a bull: it heats up the blood and makes their nerve endings sizzle with anticipatory excitement. For who knows, it could be the President, offering an exclusive sit-down to discuss their latest brainwave. Or Adele, suggesting a duet for her next album ’35,’ or Kim Kardashian, offering a part in her new realityshow. Or it could even be a publisher suggesting they publish her autobiography. A girl can only dream!

“Hey, Odelia,” the voice on the other end spoke. “It’s Tessa. Is this a bad time?”

She gulped a little, then managed,“Oh, hey, Tessa!”

She’d met Tessa Torrance and her husband Prince Dante in England a while back, when the couple had been relentlessly hounded by the tabloids and eventually driven out of the country by those rabid newshounds.

“I’m sorry to drop this on you,” said Tessa, “but I’m afraid I need a favor. Again.”

“Absolutely,” she said immediately. “Anything.”

“The thing is… a dear, dear friend of ours finds himself in something of a pickle. And so I was wondering if you could help him out. I wouldn’t be asking you this,” she hastened to add, “if it wasn’t extremely important. You see, he urgently needs a place to lie low for a while, a placewhere no one would think to look for him. In other words: Hampton Cove.”

“Of course,” she said, blinking a few times at this unexpected request. Then she produced what she hoped was a sufficiently airy chuckle. “He’s not a fugitive from justice, is he? Cause I’m not sure Chase would approve if we were harboring a known criminal.”

For a moment Tessa didn’t speak, and Odelia’s cheeks colored. Then her friend said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to trust me on this, Odelia.”

So this manwas a criminal! Oh, dear.

“So can I tell him to head to your place?”

“Um…”

“I would host him myself but you know how I’m constantly under surveillance by some of the same paps that drove us out of England. Can you believe they’re using drones now, trying to snap a shot of us walking in our own backyard?”

She murmured a sound of commiseration, even as she wondered how she was going to explain to Chase that she had agreed to supply room and board to some British crook.

“He hasn’t…murdered anyone, has he?” she finally insisted.

This time it was Tessa’s turn to produce a light chuckle. “No, Odelia. He’s not a murderer. But he is in big trouble, and I can’t thank you and Chase enough for doing this.”

“So—“

“Okay, I gotta go. Dante is calling me. Toodle-pip, honey. And thanks again.”

“But I—“ But the Duchess of Essex was gone and she found herself staring at her phone in mild horror. Chase was going to be very unhappy when he discovered what she’d let herself in for this time. At least the man—whoever he was—hadn’t murdered anyone, which was a small consolation.

She chewed her bottom lip as she wondered where they were going to put this mystery guest. They’d turned the guest room into a nursery, so that was out of the question. And she couldn’t very well ask Tessa’s friend to sleep on the couch. And so it was with a groan of dismay that she finally picked up her phone again.

“Mom?” she said as the call connected. “Help!”

CHAPTER 4

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“I have to say that I like this new life of ours,” I said. I’d been lying on my back for a while, which is one of my favorite positions when in repose, and gazing up at a blue sky that was both majestic and a little bit scary, since it was filled with birds. And as everyone knows, some species of birds can be pretty keen on snapping up any bit of nourishment their beady eye can see, and they’re especially keen on a juicy morsel like me.

“What new life?” asked Dooley, who was also taking in some sun on the belly.

“Well, this new life we’re living. With the baby and all?”

Dooley turned his head to face me, and I could tell that he was not a little bit puzzled.“I don’t understand, Max. What new life with the baby?”

And then I remembered that I hadn’t yet related the conversation Odelia and Chase had been having the night before. About the future and all of that stuff.

“Okay, so Odelia has been working like a beaver fighting crime, right?” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Catching criminals and putting the bad guys behind bars?”

“Okay.”

“But now she has the baby, and so that part of her life is over.”

He chewed on this for a moment, then came back with:“I don’t understand.”

“Okay, look. So when you want to catch a criminal, you automatically put yourself in danger.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But now that she has the baby, she can’t do that kind of thing anymore. Imagine if she gets hurt? What’s going to happen to Grace?”

“She’ll be sad?”

I wasn’t fully convinced that babies are capable of feeling sad at the unexpected demise of one or both of their parental units, but that wasn’t the point I was trying to make. “Sure she’ll be sad,” I said, “but more importantly: who’s going to take care of her when Odelia is gone?”

Dooley’s eyes went wide. “Odelia is gone?!” he cried. “Where did she go?!”

“I’m just describing a hypothetical situation, Dooley,” I said. “The kind of situation a writer would describe as a ‘what if’ situation. What if Odelia keeps putting herself in jeopardy? What if something happens to her?”

He mulled this over for a moment, then said,“I’d be very sad if that happens.”

“I think we’d all be very sad if that happens, and so Chase and Uncle Alec have put their foot down: no more police business for us. Which means no more criminal investigations and no more getting involved in the sordid side of society.”

“So we’re done being cat sleuths?”

“We’re done being cat sleuths.”

His face lit up.“I think that’s great.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

“Of course! These are some very dangerous people we’ve been chasing all this time, Max. And just being close to them we could have ended up corollary damage.”

“I think you mean collateral damage.”

“So we’re officially retired now?”

“We’re officially retired,” I confirmed.

“Nice.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, seeing as there were no big birds on the horizon that I could see. No vultures or pterodactyls or suchlike.

“But we’re still going to spy out information for Odelia, aren’t we?” Dooley interrupted my peaceful slumber.

“I don’t think so, buddy. Odelia is officially retired, too.”

“But she’s still a reporter, right?”

I shook my head.“Odelia is a mother now, and she has Grace to take care of. So she won’t be working for the paper anymore.” Or at least that’s what I’d heard from listening in on her conversations with her husband. Even Chase wasn’t going to be risking life and limb so much anymore, as Uncle Alec had hired a new detective to take over part of his workload—some eager whippersnapper who was going to tackle crime with distinct fervor. Chase had been promoted and was going to take on a more senior role at the precinct, giving colleagues the benefit of his extensive experience.

“But… if Odelia isn’t a detective anymore, and she’s not a reporter anymore, then what is she going to do from now on?” he asked, a slight sense of panic clear in his voice. “I mean, what arewe going to do, Max?“ I glanced in his direction and could see that his features were contorted in abject confusion. “Who are we when we’re not cat sleuths?!!!”

A cat psychologist, had one been present, would have immediately recognized the symptoms as a clear indication of an impending crisis of identity. And as Dooley’s words penetrated my admittedly thick skull, suddenly I found myself sharing his vivid concern.

When we weren’t cat sleuths anymore, or spies for Odelia—what were we?!!!

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

Fifi, who’d also been enjoying the way today was turning out to be one of those gloriously sunny days when the sun really gives of its best, couldn’t help but overhear the musings of her two best friends Max and Dooley. She might have been sunbathing on her side of the hedge—Kurt got a little anxious each time he lost sight of her—but since Max and Dooley were only a few yards away, and hedges aren’t soundproof, she had heard their conversation word for word.

And it had got her thinking. She’d always admired Max as being one of those brainy cats—cats that can solve any riddle big or small. In the time they’d been friends and neighbors, she’d known the big blorange cat to catch many a criminal by working his way through clues that were too difficult for her to fathom, and it had only served to make her admiration for her neighbor increase with leaps and bounds.

And so now that Max’s stellar career had abruptly come to an end, she felt sorry for the cat. Dooley was right, of course: if they weren’t cat sleuths anymore, then what were they? Too young to retire, but perhaps not too old to change careers? It was a difficult puzzle to figure out for a tiny Yorkie whose brainhadn’t been constructed along the lines of her brainy feline neighbor. It just made her wonder what the future would bring. She hoped it was sunshine and rainbows.

CHAPTER 5

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Tex was subjecting his garden house to a closer inspection. It wasn’t a very large garden house, as garden houses go, but in his estimation it was certainly big enough to house a bathroom of modest proportions. In his infinite wisdom he had decided that he wasn’t going to engage a cowboy builder after all. He was going to do the work himself. How hard could itbe? Also, it was a lot cheaper that way, and the less people were involved in the erection of this illegal construction, the better. Marge had given him her blessing, and had suggested he ask his son-in-law for a helping hand and also her brother Alec. Together, the three of them would build a bijou bathroom—he was absolutely sure about it.

And so it was with a grin of anticipatory satisfaction that he stepped into the garden house, measuring tape in hand, and started measuring. He measured the floor, he measured the ceiling, he measured the windows—he even measured the lawnmower. And he was still busy measuring for all he was worth when an irascible voice brought him out of his measuring mesmerization.

“You’re not seriously considering building a bathroom out here, are you?” the voice demanded.

He didn’t even have to look up to identify the owner of the voice. It was, of course, his mother-in-law. “And what if I am?” he asked, injecting a modicum of rebellion into his tone. He wondered how she’d found out. Then again, Vesta had a way of sniffing out secrets. She wasn’t the head of the neighborhood watch by accident. He turned to face what he often described as the bane of his existence.

“Why, it’s way too small in here,” said Vesta, subjecting the dusty interior to a critical frown. “If you’re going to build something, you gotta think big, Tex—a lot bigger than this.”

“What are you talking about?” he said coldly.

“Look, you’re going to spend a lot of time and a lot of money on this thing, so why not scale up? Create something we can all enjoy: you, me, Marge, Odelia—the whole family.”

He didn’t want to point out the obvious: that the only reason he was building this second bathroom was because Vesta spent a disproportionate amount of time in the first one. But he still felt it incumbent upon him to make matters clear from the start. “Make no mistake, Vesta,” he said. “This bathroom is going to be ours—mine and Marge’s.” He tapped his chest to add emphasis to his words, in case his monster-in-law missed the point. “That bathroom?” he said, pointing in the general direction of the house, “will be your bathroom. And this one? Mine.”

“Sure, sure,” said Vesta as she fingered her pointy chin. “So just hear me out, will ya? What if you tore this thing down—it’s an eyesore and who needs a lawnmower anyway?” He was going to point out that the grass didn’t mow itself, but she went on, “And then you buy one of those ready-made saunas and install the whole thing right here.” She stepped back and pointed to the fence that separated the Poole family’s little corner of the world from the field that stretched out behind them. “If I were you I’d get rid of that fence as well. I’m thinking jacuzzi, sauna, maybe even a pool—so what do you say?”

She was standing, hands akimbo, glancing up at him with the kind of fire in her eyes he didn’t like to see. “We can’t tear down that fence,” was all he could think of to say.

“And why not? Who’s gonna notice?”

“Blake Carrington, that’s who.” Blake owned that field, and built that fence.

She made a throwaway gesture with her hand.“Blake doesn’t care if you expand your property a little. Heck, he might even like it. At least something useful will be done with the land. And if he kicks up a fuss, you simply give him a free year-round pass to use our spa and sauna complex. Trust me—he’ll love it.”

“Spa and sauna complex!” Tex cried, horrified.

“Sure.” A dreamy look had stolen over the crusty old dame’s face. “I can see it now: the Poole Spa& Pool. Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think? I’ll bet you could charge twenty bucks just for the privilege of getting access to the place, and you could even sell season tickets—or don’t they do that kind of stuff with spas?”

Tex’s hands had flown to his head, and his fingers were digging into his white hair of their own accord—and his hair was white for a reason! “Season tickets!”

“Before you know it this will be the hottest show in town, bud—mark my words.”

“No,” he said. “No way.”

“And I’ll tell you something else. My friend Scarlett’s great-nephew Kevin is something of a computer wizard. And if you ask him nicely he’ll whip you up a great little website. Free publicity. People will be flocking to our spa from all over town. Heck, from all over the county! The Poole Spa& Pool will be the place to be!”

“Absolutely out of the question. This is my bathroom. Mine and mine alone.”

“Oh, don’t be such a miser, Tex,” said Vesta, prodding him in the small of the back with a bony finger. “Live a little.” And with these words, she strode off, leaving Tex feeling as if he’d just been in a close encounter with a wrecking ball. The sensation was not unfamiliar. Vesta often had that effect on him.

The sound of someone gently scraping his throat reached his ear, and when he whirled around, he found himself face to face with Ted, his next-door neighbor.

“Building yourself a spa, huh, Tex?” said Ted. “Nice.”

“I’m not building a spa,” he said emphatically.

“Poole Spa& Pool? Gotta admit it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“There’s not going to be a Poole Spa& Pool.”

“Well, I hope that when it’s finished you’ll give your favorite neighbors a free pass. I love me a nice sauna and so does the wife.”

“There won’t be a sauna,” he said through gritted teeth.

Ted’s smile lost something of its avuncularity. “I hope you got all your papers in order. Cause if you don’t, I’d hate to be the one to tell the council one of our neighbors has gone and built himself an illegal structure in his backyard. They don’t take kindly to that kind of thing, you know. I’m talking fines, Tex. Big fines.”

Tex freely ground his teeth for a few moments.“It’s just a bathroom, Ted.”

“So you say.”

“Just a small, tiny bathroom.”

“I hear you, buddy. And if you give me and the wife a free pass to your ‘bathroom’ the council doesn’t have to be any the wiser, if you catch my drift.”

For a moment, Tex eyed his neighbor, his sense of injustice piqued to such an extent that he momentarily wondered if Alec would consider death by lawnmower an act of self-defense or not. But then wiser councils prevailed. He sighed and said,“Okay. A free pass for you and Marcie to use my new bathroom.”

Ted pumped the air with his fist.“Yesss,” he said, then added, “What about mine and Marcie’s folks?”

“Don’t push it, Ted.”

Ted immediately relented. He must have seen the fire in Tex’s eye. “No, of course. You’re absolutely right. Gotta keep it exclusive. Neighbors only.”

Tex watched Ted toddle off in the direction of the house and shook his head. So much for building a discreet bathroom and no one finding out about it. Soon the whole town would know, Ted being the inveterate blabbermouth that he was.

“Oh, darn,” he said, his sense of excitement having taken a considerable hit.

CHAPTER 6

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Vesta walked in through the sliding glass door and into her granddaughter’s living room. Even though she enjoyed these conversations with her son-in-law, what she enjoyed even more was to spend time with the latest addition to the Poole family roster.

“And how is my sweetheart?” she said as she leaned over the crib and took a closer gander at baby Grace.

“Asleep,” said Odelia curtly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wake her up, Gran.”

“Oh, I won’t wake her up, I promise,” said Vesta as she marveled at this clear evidence that God was still in his heaven and that all was well with the world. “Isn’t she just gorgeous?” she whispered. “Isn’t she the most gorgeous baby you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

“Yes, she is,” said Odelia. “Now stop crowding her and sit down.”

“I’m not crowding her,” said Vesta. “I’m just admiring her.” She took a load off her feet and dropped down on the couch next to her grandchild. “What, no cats?” she asked, glancing around. Usually Max and Dooley and the others couldn’t stay away from Odelia.

“They’ve been awfully quiet,” said Odelia. “Ever since Grace was born they’ve been walking on eggshells.”

“Which is a good thing, no? Making sure they don’t disturb the baby?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. It’s as if they still don’t know how to deal with the fact that this little family of two is now suddenly a little family of three.”

“And soon to be a little family of four?” Vesta cheekily inquired.

“Let’s wait and see how it goes with Grace,” said Odelia. “I’m not sure I’m dealing with this new situation all that well myself, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh, you’re dealing with it just wonderfully. You’re a born mother, honey.” She patted her granddaughter’s knee. “Have you heard the latest? Tex has hired me to manage his spa. Isn’t that just great? And I have to say I’m bubbling with plans for the new addition.”

Odelia frowned at her.“New spa? What are you talking about?”

“The new spa he’s building in his backyard. Poole Spa& Pool. I coined the name, of course. Gotta have a catchy name.” She sighed with relish. “It’s going to be just great. First we’ll open her up to the neighborhood, of course, but if things go well, I think we might be able to service the entire town. Which means money will be flowing into the family coffers and before you know it we’ll all be rich!”

“How can Dad build a pool in his backyard? He doesn’t have the space.”

“Oh, he’s going to take over some of the land behind us.”

“He’s buying the land from Blake Carrington? I didn’t know he was selling.”

“We’re going to need plenty of parking space, of course, and dressing rooms, and a kiddie pool. Oh, this is exactly what this family needs right now: a project we can all tackle together. Marge will give up her job at the library, and Tex will drop his doctor’s practice. And you’re practically out of theGazette anyway…” She gave Odelia a thoughtful look. “I was thinking about offering Chase the pool guard job, though maybe if we build a fitness club he could be our resident fitness instructor instead. Do you think he’d drop his career as a cop for that?”

Odelia had been staring at her with open-mouthed admiration and Vesta couldn’t help but experience a sense of pride that she was putting her family on the map like this.

“It’s all because of Grace, of course,” she said, smoothing her tracksuit pants. “I was thinking we need to create a legacy, you know. And wellness is always going to be big business.” She glanced over to the crib where Grace was still sleeping peacefully. “I can just see her now. GraceKingsley: General Manager of Poole Spa& Pool. Though if her name had been Grace Poole it would have been even better, of course. Brand recognition is very important in this business.” She frowned. “Do you think Chase would mind if Grace took the Poole name instead? Mh?”

“Gran! Are you nuts!”

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger to her lips. “The baby.”

“God,” Odelia said, shaking her head for some reason.

Just then, the cats walked in through the pet flap, one after the other: Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus. Single file, like a procession of cats. They looked solemn, Vesta thought, as if they had something on their minds. She couldn’t think what it could be but she had a feeling they would soon find out.

The cat procession halted in front of them and Max was the first to speak.

“Odelia,” he said. “Gran. We have an important question for you.”

“Shoot,” said Vesta, hoping they wouldn’t kick up a fuss about the pool. She knew that cats don’t like water, and her cats were no exception. All they’d have to do was to steer clear of the pool area. Or better yet: maybe they could steer clear of the spa entirely. No customer visiting a spa likes to be confronted with a bunch of cats roaming around. It just gives a bad impression. Unprofessional.

“It’s come to our attention,” said Max, looking very serious as he spoke, “that you’ve stopped working as a police consultant. It’s also come to our attention that you no longer work for theGazette. Which means you no longer need us to do your legwork and act as your eyes and ears. In other words,” the voluminous cat concluded, “Our job description seems to have gone through a fundamental change.”

“Well put,” said Vesta. But then Max always did have a way with words.

“But if we’re not spies anymore,” said Max, “then what are we?”

“What Max means to say,” said Harriet, “is this: what do we do?”

“Excellent question,” said Vesta. She turned to her granddaughter, curious how she would respond. In fact all eyes now turned to Odelia: four pairs of cat eyes and Vesta’s.

Odelia smiled.“Look, you guys. It’s true that I’m not a police consultant right now, since I’m on leave, which means you can all take a well-deserved break.”

Dooley’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and it was clear that Odelia’s response wasn’t what the cats had expected.

“A break?” said Harriet finally.

“Yeah, a vacation,” Odelia clarified.

“Like a holiday,” Vesta further explained.

“A holiday,” Max murmured, as if the concept was alien to him.

“Odelia is absolutely right,” said Vesta. “This is a time to rejoice. With baby Grace having joined our family, and me becoming the new General Manager of the Poole Spa& Pool a new era has begun. And so you can all take a nice long vacation.” She threw up her arms. “Let’s have some fun, for crying out loud!”

A loud wail rose up from baby Grace’s crib. Looked like she was all for fun!

CHAPTER 7

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“I’m bored.”

“Me, too, Dooley,” I said with a sigh.

“I’m also bored,” said Brutus with an even deeper sigh.

“I don’t get this,” said Harriet. “It’s just one little baby. And suddenly everything is completely different? How is that even possible?”

Just for a change of scenery, we’d all relocated to the front yard, where we now lay, doing some pet watching and generally having a lazy old time. But even though Gran had insisted we have some fun and enjoy an extended vacation, it wasn’t long before all four of us were bored out of our tiny skulls.

“I read somewhere that having a baby changes people’s perceptions,” said Brutus, causing us all to look in his direction with wonder written all over our features.

“You read that?” I asked, much surprised that Brutus would out himself as areader,of all things.

“Yeah, online,” he said, ignoring our visible astonishment. “When humans have a baby suddenly the way they look at the world and their own life goes through a fundamental change. Instead of everything revolving around them and their ambitions and likes and dislikes, the kid now comes first. And so it’s not surprising that Odelia decides to chuck everything and put Grace’s wellbeing in first place.” He gave a weary shake of the head. “Which means we’re all screwed, you guys. No more mysteries, no more exciting car chases, no moredanger.”

“To be fair, we were never in any car chases,” I said. “Or in any real danger.”

“Oh, there’s been plenty of danger,” said Harriet. “Remember that time we were locked inside the walls of that creepy old mansion? That was very dangerous. And I can’t count on the digits of one paw the many times Odelia had to be saved from the clutches of some creepy killer.”

Brutus glanced in my direction.“You saved her a couple of times, if memory serves.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” I said, my claws tingling at the memory.

“That’s all in the past from now on, you guys,” said Dooley sadly.

“Yeah, no more brushes with death,” I said wistfully.

“No more ‘Elementary, my dear Dooley,’” said Dooley.

“Ah, well,” I said. “Maybe it’s all for the best.”

“Yeah, we had a good run, didn’t we?” said Brutus.

“We had an excellent run,” Harriet chimed in. “And maybe now I’ll finally be able to focus on my singing career. All this catching killers is all fine and dandy, but there’s more to life than murder and mayhem.” She gave her right paw a tentative lick, then brushed it across her noble visage. “There’s music and lights and dancing and… show biz!”

“Lady Gaga made another movie,” Brutus pointed out. “And if she can do it, so can you, sweetie pie.”

“Of course I could,” said Harriet, perking up. “First I’ll build a phenomenal singing career, create a string of hits, get a Hollywood agent, and then it’s movie stardom for me!”

Stranger things have happened, of course, and I just wanted to point out that Harriet’s singing was still a darn sight better than ninety percent of the current crop of pop stars, when suddenly a cab drew up in front of the house and a fat man practically rolled out. He had a shaggy mop of blond hair that reminded me of a poodle and was dressed in a loud Hawaiian T-shirt and pinkBermudas. He also had a tiny sort of dog in his arms and glanced in our direction with a look of confusion. Behind him, a second person alighted. She was a female of indefinite age with a face like a horse and a lot of teeth. She, too, was clutching a smallish species of canine and looked up at thehouse with a puzzled expression.

“Are you sure this is the place?” she asked the cab driver, who was busy excavating a large number of suitcases from the back of his vehicle.

“Yup, this is where Odelia Poole lives,” said the cab driver. “I personally know the Pooles and I can verify that this is the right place.” He pointed to Marge and Tex’s house. “Tex Poole is my doctor and he lives right there. Once, a couple of years ago, I was suffering from itchy feetand even though it was the middle of the night, Doc Poole greeted me with all the cordiality of an old friend.” He smiled at the recollection. “I’ll never forget what he told me when I pulled off my socks. ‘Smells like a ripe French cheese, Norbert. The stinky kind.’ Ah, those were the days.” He slammed the trunk of the cab shut and stood in wait for his fee.

The fat man with the blond bob dutifully took out his wallet and did the honors, while the horsy lady stood gaping at the four of us with distinct dismay.“Cats,” she said disapprovingly. “Tessa didn’t say anything about cats.”

“Well, looks like this is us,” said the large man in a jolly voice. “Now let’s hope this Odelia Poole person is home.”

“Odelia Kingsley,” I pointed out. “Odelia took Chase’s name.”

The tiniest of the two tiny dogs studied me closely, then said,“Are you the lord of the manor, cat?”

“The name is Max,” I said. “And yes, this is my home.”

“Our home,” Harriet corrected me. “Who are you?”

The doggie licked its lips, then blinked and said,“Little John.”

“So who is Big John?” asked Brutus.

The doggie gestured to the large man who was carrying his compatriot.“That guy over there.”

“And my name is Little Janine,” the other little doggie squeaked. “I was named after my human, whose name is Janine.”

“I hate to be rude,” I said, “but what exactly are you doing here?”

Both doggies smiled down at me from their respective perches in their humans’ arms. “We’re going to live here from now on!” Little John cried happily.

“We’re all going to be brothers and sisters!” Little Janine added for good measure.

CHAPTER 8

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Big John dutifully rang the front doorbell and we all waited with bated breath for what was to follow. Dooley and Harriet and Brutus and myself because the news that four would suddenly become six had struck us hard. It wasn’t the first time that visitors had arrived unexpectedly in our midst and stuck around for a while, but if Little John and Little Janine were to be believed, they were here to stay!

“I don’t understand, Max,” said Dooley. “Who are these people?”

“I have absolutely no idea, Dooley,” I said.

The door swung open and Odelia appeared. Her face was flushed and she had that excited look in her eyes she always gets when she’s nervous. “Welcome, welcome!” she cried, a little too loud, I thought. “Welcome to my humble home!”

“Why, thank you,” said Big John. “So we have arrived at the home of Odelia Poole then? You are, in fact, her? I mean to say, you are she? In other words, you are the Odelia Poole?”

“Yes, I’m the Odelia,” said Odelia. “Though it’s Odelia Kingsley now.”

“Kingsley?” asked Big John. “Who’s Kingsley?”

“My husband, Chase Kingsley.”

“Oh, righto. Well, I’m John Boggles, and this is my wife Janine. Though you can call me Big John—everybody else does,” he added magnanimously.

“Just call me Janine,” said Janine, giving her husband the look of a much-put-upon wife. “Thanks for taking us in, Odelia. Tessa said you once saved her life, and since we felt we had nowhere else to go…”

“Oh, of course,” said Odelia, darting a quick glance to the two dogs, then directing a look down to the four of us, who were still drinking in the scene with interest. She stepped back and Big John and his better half disappeared inside.

And since there was nothing to be gained by remaining on the sidelines, we followed suit. This was one conversation we did not want to miss.

“I have to admit Tessa took me somewhat by surprise,” said Odelia. “And so as far as sleeping arrangements go, I haven’t fully worked out the, um, the details.”

“Just put us anywhere,” said Big John. “We’re not fussy, are we, sweetums?”

“As long as we have a bed to sleep in, we’re perfectly happy,” Janine confirmed.

“I guess you’d like to freshen up a little first?” Odelia suggested.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” said Janine. “We flew here straight from the continent, where we were staying with some friends in Bucharest, but unfortunately the tabloids managed to track us down and decided to organize a vigil in front of my friend’s house, so we couldn’t possibly stay.”

Odelia swallowed uneasily.“You don’t think… they will follow you here?”

Big John shrugged his big shoulders.“In life nothing is certain, Miss Poole.”

“Mrs. Kingsley,” Janine corrected her helpmeet.

“But we will muddle through, I can assure you.”

“I don’t think we were followed,” said Janine. “And Tessa is the only one who knows where we are right now. Even our families have no idea we flew to the States.”

“It’s a sad state of affairs when the head of a nation has to go into hiding,” said Big John with a sigh as he took in his surroundings. He homed in on the sliding glass door, through which the backyard was visible. “Oh, this is nice,” he said. “Very homey, I must say.”

Just then, Grace decided that the conversation could use the benefit of her personal contribution, and she opened her throat to loudly intervene.

“Oh, will you look at this cutie-pie!” said Janine, and for the next ten minutes or so, Grace was the center of attention, as had in fact been the case ever since she’d joined our ranks.

In order to fully benefit from the Grace Experience, Big John and his wife had put down their pets, and Little John and Little Janine now tripped up to us. After engaging in some sniffing action—why dogs enjoy sniffing butts so much will always be a mystery to me—they settled down, tails wagging and tongues lolling.

“So what do you guys do around here for fun?” asked Little John.

“We loiter,” said Brutus dryly.

“No, we don’t, smoochie poo,” said Harriet. “We sing, we dance, we live!”

“We eat, we drink, we poo, we pee,” said Dooley.

“And then we do it all over again,” I added.

“In other words, pretty much what we do,” said Little John.

“At least when we’re not hobnobbing with world leaders,” Little Janine supplied.

“You hobnob with world leaders?” asked Harriet, much impressed.

“Of course. Big John is Prime Minister of England. He runs an entire country. So it’s only natural that he would frequently meet other prime ministers, and presidents, and even kings and queens. All in a day’s work for him—and us.”

“How is he going to run his country when he’s staying with us?” I asked.

“Well…” Little Janine directed a hesitant look at Little John. “Let’s just say Big John is temporarily indisposed because of circumstances beyond his control.”

“Things have gotten a little heated on the home front,” said Little John. “So Big John and Janine felt it wise to lay low for a while. Let things cool off, you see.”

Frankly I didn’t see, but since these two were now guests in our home, I felt it was probably rude to pry. So instead I decided to give them the grand tour… which took us about five seconds, since our home is admittedly a tiny one.

“Lovely,” Little Janine finally murmured politely. “Absolutely lovely.”

“It isn’t much,” I said. “But it’s home.”

“And we love it,” said Harriet.

“Though we love our own home even more, don’t we, sunshine?” said Brutus.

“Your own home?” asked Little Janine. “Do you mean to say you don’t actually live here?”

“No, me and Harriet live next door,” said Brutus. “And so does Dooley. Only Max lives here—officially, at least.”

And since both dogs stared at me in wonder, I decided to give them the lowdown on the Poole family setup.“Odelia is my human, so I live with her. Dooley’s human is Odelia’s grandmother, who lives with Tex and Marge next door. Harriet belongs to Marge, and Brutus…” I frowned. “Who do you belong to again, Brutus?”

“Officially I belong to Chase,” said Brutus, “after Chase’s mom gave me to him for safekeeping. But since Harriet and I are an item, I actually live next door.”

“And since Max and I are besties,” Dooley said, “I usually hang out here.“

Little John blinked.“Hard to keep track.”

“Oh, it’s not all that complicated,” I said. “We actually consider both homes as one home, and come and go as we please. It’s all very mellow and friendly. The Poole way, you know.”

“I like it,” said Little Janine, perking up a little. “I think we’re going to feel right at home… in your homes.”

“My case is your case,” said Dooley.

“What Dooley means to say,” I said, “is thatmi casa es su casa.”

“That’s what I said!”

CHAPTER 9

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I honestly felt as if my‘little home’ was getting a little too crowded for comfort, and so I decided to do the only thing that seemed sensible: flee!

And since my friends all felt the same way, we quickly made ourselves scarce by means of that wonderful invention: the pet flap.

“Phew,” said Harriet once we were outside again. “That was a close call.”

“A close call?” said Dooley with a touch of concern. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Brutus. “Odelia’s house has just been taken over by the enemy, Dooley. From now on Little John and Little Janine are in charge. So if I were you, I’d find myself a new place to call home.”

“Would you call dogs the enemy?” I asked.

“Of course! Dogs are our mortal enemy. Every cat knows this.”

“But what about Fifi?” I asked. “She’s not the enemy.”

“Obviously Fifi is the exception that proves the rule.”

“I don’t actually consider Fifi a dog,” said Harriet.

“Me, neither,” said Brutus. “To me Fifi is an honorary cat.”

“Exactly! And so is Rufus. They were probably both cats in a previous life.”

And these deep thoughts dispensed with, Harriet and Brutus skedaddled.

“I’m scared, Max,” Dooley confessed, and he actually looked scared.

“No need to be scared, Dooley,” I said. Then: “What are you scared about?”

“Our home isn’t our home anymore! It’s now in the hands of the enemy!”

“I’m sure Little John and Little Janine aren’t actually the enemy,” I said soothingly. “In fact they struck me as a very polite and friendly pair of dogs.”

“But they’re dogs, Max. Dogs! Taking over our home!”

“They’re not actually taking over our home as much as visiting it.” Though to be honest I had no idea whether this was actually true or not. After all, no mention had been made of an expiration date to this surprise visit. As far as I knew, Big John and his entourage might settle down in Hampton Cove indefinitely.

But instead I said,“I’m sure they won’t stick around for very long. After all, Big John is the Prime Minister of England, Dooley. And how long can a Prime Minister run his country through Zoom calls? At some point he has to go back. Right?”

But Dooley’s look of distinct concern told me he was the wrong cat to ask.

“I think they’re here to stay, Max,” my friend said. “Forever and ever and ever.”

And as Dooley and I were discussing the uncertain future we were facing, suddenly I had the feeling we were being observed. But when I looked around, I couldn’t see anyone or anything that could be the cause of this sensation. Still, my skin was crawling, which happens every time I’m under close scrutiny.

“What’s wrong, Max?” Dooley immediately asked.

“Nothing,” I said, not wanting to alarm my friend any further. “Nothing at all.”

And that’s when it happened. A loud scream rent the air. It was Harriet!

“You creep!” her voice cried out. “You horrible, horrible creep!”

Immediately Dooley and I hurried in the direction of the rose bushes, Harriet and Brutus’s favorite spot in Odelia’s backyard. It’s nice and shady there—and very discreet, if you know what I mean.

And as we approached, suddenly a man came hurrying out of those same bushes. He was big and hulking and was dressed in a long dark coat. He was also wearing sunglasses, which struck me as ominous, since those rose bushes are impenetrable to the sun’s rays, no matter how hard she tries. Those same sunglasses stood at an angle on his nose, as if they’d taken a hit, and I could count at least three long scratches across his nose, which was red and bleeding.

“And next time you assault a lady, I hope you’ll think again!” Harriet said as a verbal parting gift to the strange and dangerous-looking individual.

“What happened?” I asked the moment we joined our friends.

“That man,” said Harriet, her paw to her chest, “stepped on my tail!”

“No, he didn’t,” said Dooley, visibly shocked to the core.

“Willfully!” Harriet cried as she raised her paw and placed it across her brow. She’d closed her eyes and was acting the part of the dainty diva to perfection.

“So I scratched him,” said Brutus.

“Oh, my brave hero,” said Harriet.

“And then I scratched him again.”

“My knight in shining armor!”

“No one,” said Brutus, a tremor in his voice, “touches my lady in anger!”

“My noble Lancelot!” Harriet trilled, and held out her paw.

“There, there,” said Brutus, taking the fin and patting it fervently.

And while Harriet recovered from her terrible ordeal, I glanced in every direction, but try as I might, I couldn’t detect a single trace of the intruder.

“I wonder what he was doing here,” I murmured as I studied the spot where the man had stood. Mother nature, when creating the man, certainly hadn’t stinted on shoe size, that was obvious from the indentations in the topsoil.

“I’ll bet he’s Papa Razzi,” said Dooley.

“You mean a paparazzo,” I said.

“Him, too,” said Dooley with a shiver.

“It’s possible,” I admitted. Perhaps the same tabloid reporters who had been hounding Big John before had managed to track him down and were ready to do what they did best: catch him in unflattering outfits and turn him into a national laughingstock. It was, apparently, why he had selected our home as his hideaway.

“This is all very worrying, Max,” said Dooley. “I’m very worried.”

“Yeah, it’s not conducive to a peaceful atmosphere,” I said.

“It could be a kidnapper,” Brutus suggested, now that Harriet had been sufficiently consoled. “Out to nab baby Grace. There are gangs that steal babies on commission. Or they could be wanting to kidnap her and hold her for ransom.”

“Oh, no!” said Harriet. “Not baby Grace! Max, you have to do something!“

Brutus looked a little perturbed at the mention of my name.“Or I could do something,” he pointed out.

“Of course, twinkle toes,” said Harriet sweetly. “But since Odelia is Max’s human, and Grace is Odelia’s baby, Max is probably best placed to save her.”

“Mh,” said Brutus, clearly not in full agreement with this specious reasoning.

“We better see if Grace is still there,” I said, and moved off in the direction of the house. My friends all followed me, and moments later we were passing through the pet flap and into the house proper, making a beeline for Grace’s crib. And as we hopped up onto the table to take a closer look, much to our satisfaction she was still happily gurgling away, looking as pink and cherubic as usual.

“Phew,” I said, and probably spoke for all of us.

Odelia, who’d just returned from upstairs, where she’d been overseeing sleeping arrangements for the Boggles, started a little when she saw us all hovering over the crib. “What’s wrong?” she immediately asked as she joined us.

“We saw a man in the bushes,” said Dooley. “And he attacked Harriet. We think he might be a kidnapper. And so we wanted to see if he kidnapped Grace or not.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia, bringing a distraught hand to her face. “Are you all right, Harriet?”

“My tail still hurts,” said Harriet. “And if Brutus hadn’t fought him off, things could have turned really nasty. I could see it in his eyes. Evil, Odelia. Pure evil!”

“He could be part of a gang of baby snatchers,” said Brutus. “I heard there’s one active in the neighborhood. Snatching babies and selling them for parts.”

“People don’t sell babies for parts, Brutus,” said Odelia.

“Yeah, you’re thinking of cars,” I said.

“Maybe they want to eat them?” Harriet suggested. “I read on Facebook that there are people out there that like to eat babies. Like a Snickers bar, you know.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on Facebook, Harriet,” said Odelia. But I could tell that the story of this tall, dark stranger in the bushes had rattled her.

“I just wish I’d knocked him out when I had the chance,” said Brutus grimly.

“You’re much too nice, wuggle bear,” said Harriet. “That’s your problem.”

“I know, I know. I had him in my paws but I let him go. Darn it!”

“Can you give me a description?” asked Odelia.

“I can do you one better,” said Brutus, expanding his chest. He held out his paw. “You can scrape some of his DNA from my claws and have Chase run it through the database.”

“Oh, love muffin!” Harriet cried. “You’re so clever!”

“One does one’s best,” said Brutus modestly.

“I’ll carefully scrape off some of that DNA from your claws, Brutus,” said Odelia, “so Chase has something to work with.” And she proceeded in the direction of the staircase to retrieve what is commonly termed a cotton swab. Humans use it to poke around in their ears—the reason is entirely unclear to me, but then we all know humans are a very strange species. If someone tried to poke me in the ear with a cotton swab they’d get quite an earful, I can promise you.

But before Odelia could equip herself with the necessary DNA-retrieval tools, suddenly John Boggles appeared in the stairwell, almost bumping into our human.“Oh,” said Odelia, a little startled. “I was just going to—“

And she probably would have said more, but just at that moment Harriet started screaming at the top of her voice—quite the performance, I must say.

“It’s the man!” she shrieked. “Brutus—get him!”

And true enough: the mystery man who had appeared, then disappeared from the bushes, was staring at us through the sliding glass door!

“It’s the kidnapper!” Odelia cried, and grabbed for the first available weapon that she found, in this case a smallish statuette of Minnie Mouse Gran had once gifted her.

“What’s going on?” asked Big John, much perturbed.

“This man is here to kidnap my daughter!” Odelia said as she took a firmer grip on the makeshift weapon. The wannabe kidnapper had now placed both hands next to his face, and his face flat against the window, his damaged schnozz greasing up the glass, in an obvious attempt to look inside.

“The nerve of the guy!” said Brutus. “He’s simply blatant!”

And then the most astonishing thing happened: like a man possessed with nerves of steel, John Boggles stepped to the fore, like the fearless leader that he was, yanked open the door and… clapped Harriet’s attacker on the back!

“Anything to report, Wilkins?” he asked.

“No, sir. Looks like the coast is clear.”

“Good man,” said Big John, and Wilkins tipped an imaginary cap, then removed himself from the scene, presumably to invade some other home!

“What just happened?” asked Harriet.

“Do you know that man?” asked Odelia.

“Mh?” said Big John absentmindedly. “Oh, you mean Wilkins? Yes, of course. He’s my PPO. Goes with me wherever I go. Makes sure nobody blows me up or shoots me or some such tomfoolery.”

“PPO?”

“Personal protection officer. Works for the Metropolitan Police.”

“Is that like that golden robot from Star Wars, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I think he’s called C-3PO, Dooley,” I said.

“But, but, but…” Odelia stuttered.

“I know, I know,” said Big John. “I didn’t like it myself at first. Took me a while to get used to. But now I find it has a sort of soothing effect, don’t you know. A kind of reassurance that the world is a safe place as long as Wilkins is around.”

“I thought he was here to kidnap my daughter,” said Odelia, still much shaken.

“Wilkins? Oh, no,” said Big John with a light chuckle. “I can assure you kidnapping babies is the last thing on his mind. He’s a perfectly honorable chappie. Heart of gold and all that. Won plenty of medals, don’t you know.” He glanced around until his eye settled on the couch. “Wouldyou perhaps be so kind to provide Wilkins with a pillow and some sheets? I’m sure he’d love nothing better than to sleep on the cold, hard floor, but I believe in treating my staff well.”

“Of course,” said Odelia, looking a little sandbagged as she replaced the statuette on the kitchen counter, then mounted the stairs to fetch some bedding for Wilkins.

Brutus, who was still holding up his paw, asked,“So what about the DNA?”

“I think you can put your paw down now, Brutus,” I said. “The value of that particular DNA has just taken a big hit and is now trading at cents on the dollar.”

CHAPTER 10

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“Just move in with us—just do it,” Brutus suggested.

“I don’t know, Brutus,” I said.

“Look, it’s obvious that Odelia has other things on her mind right now: the baby, and now these friends of hers with their dogs and their… stuff. Time for you and Dooley to move out and move in with us. Plenty of space for the four of us!”

It was a tempting offer, of course, and Brutus had a point. Odelia did have a lot of things on her mind, and she certainly didn’t have time to deal with Dooley and me. Case in point: she’d forgotten to fill up our bowls, which was a first, and to clean out our litter boxes, which was an unpleasant surprise. Also, Little John and Little Janine had confiscated my favorite blanket. All in all, a sad state of affairs!

“But where will we sleep?” asked Dooley.

“That’s the easy part: you and Max will sleep on Gran’s bed and Harriet and me will sleep where we sleep now: on Marge and Tex’s bed. Easy peasy!”

Tempting, very tempting indeed.

We had escaped from the house, which was far too busy and noisy to our liking, and had decided to avoid the backyard, just in case more men in black jumped out at us and tried to kidnap us—or, as the case may be, stepped on our tails—and were now enjoying the peace and quiet of Marge and Tex’s backyard.

“I think it’s the perfect solution,” said Brutus, reiterating his point. “After all, cats are survivors. When things become too hectic or too uncomfortable for our taste, we simply move on. In that sense we show our superiority to the canine species, who stick to their humans like glue, come rain or shine.”

“Cats don’t stick to their humans like glue?” asked Dooley.

“No, of course not, silly. We go where life takes us. Free spirits to the core.” He looked up when Harriet came walking out through the pet flap. “And?” he said hopefully.

“Beef,” said Harriet sadly.

“What, again? We had beef yesterday, and the day before.”

“I know. I told Marge and she’s going shopping tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” He sagged a little. “Oh, well. I guess these little setbacks are life’s way of making us more spiritual.” He returned his attention to us. “Now where was I? Oh, that’s right. I was explaining the essential sense of adventure and independence of the feline species. We don’t need anyone or anything.”

“Are you moving in with us?” asked Harriet.

“We’re thinking about it,” I said.

“Just do it,” was her advice. “It’s not your fault that Odelia decided to replace you with a baby, and then started filling the house with her dubious friends. So it’s not a lot of fun. I say deal with it. If life deals you lemons, make lemonade.”

“I don’t like lemonade,” Dooley murmured sadly.

“Odelia didn’t exactly replace us with a baby,” I said.

“No, she said she would always have a place for us in her home,” said Dooley, on whom this conversation was having a slightly disconcerting effect, judging from the way he was darting anxious glances to me from time to time.

“You have to understand humans speak with forked tongues,” said Brutus.

“Odelia’s tongue is forked?!” Dooley asked, thoroughly shocked.

“Not literally, of course,” said Brutus curtly. “I was just trying to make a point. Humans often say one thing and do the opposite. They’re afraid that if they tell you the truth you’ll kick up a fuss. So instead they feed you some convenient lie, and then do whatever they intended to do anyway, hoping you won’t notice.”

I frowned at our butch black friend.“So you’re saying… What are you saying, exactly?”

“He’s saying that Odelia is sick and tired of having a pair of cats infest her home,” said Harriet. “Especially with Grace to take care of. So she invited these Boggles and their canine appendages to drive you both out of the house.”

“Oh, dear,” I said. It was true that our home wasn’t our home anymore. Not with two human Boggles and two canine Boggles having taken over. And then of course there was Grace, who seemed to find a perverse pleasure in interrupting our precious and sacred nap time by imitating a fire engine atregular intervals.

“So you’re saying this was a deliberate strategy by Odelia to get rid of us?”

“Of course!” said Brutus. “And a very clever one, too. Now she can blame everything on the Boggles, and you have no other recourse but to move out.”

“My theory,” said Harriet, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “is that Odelia turned her home into an Airbnb and the Boggles are her first guests.”

“What’s an Airbnb?” asked Dooley.

“It’s like a bed and breakfast in a private home,” I said. “To be booked online.”

“At least over here things are still the way they’ve always been,” said Harriet as she smoothed her whiskers. “And since Marge is too old to have babies, and so is Gran, I think it’s safe to say that this haven of peace and hospitality is a given.”

Just then, Tex came walking out of the house. For some reason he was wearing a yellow hard hat on top of his head, and was dressed in a high-vis vest over blue coveralls. He was also carrying what looked like a sledgehammer and had a look of determination in his eyes. And as he approached the garden house, we all followed his progress with marked interest.

“What’s up with Tex?” I asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Brutus. “He did mention something about a second bathroom this morning, though I told him he could always use my litter box. As usual, he ignored me, of course.”

“He ignores you because he doesn’t understand you, angel,” said Harriet.

“And I think he can understand us perfectly,” said Brutus. “He’s been married to Marge for twenty-five years—plenty of time to pick up our language. No, he’s simply pretending not to understand us because it’s more convenient to him.”

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“If he doesn’t understand us, he can ignore us,” Brutus explained. “And if he ignores us, he doesn’t have to clean out our litter box, fill up our bowls, or take us to the vet when we’re dealing with some medical emergency. It’s laziness, pure and simple.”

“I don’t know if…” I began to say, but Brutus held up his paw.

“You don’t have to teach me humans, Max. They’re a duplicitous species. Just look at Odelia. Promising to take care of you forever, and the moment a couple of Boggles arrive she’s suddenly forgotten you even exist.”

“All she did was forget to fill our bowls,” I said.

“And forget to clean out our litter boxes. And don’t forget she gave your favorite blanket to the Boggles,” said Dooley.

“She didn’t actually give my blanket to the Boggles, Dooley,” I said. “They simply took it.”

“Because Odelia took her eye off the ball,” Brutus said.

“What ball?” asked Dooley. “I thought we were talking about a blanket.”

“Whatis that man up to?” said Harriet now.

We all returned our attention to Tex, and suddenly, and much to our shock and horror, he heaved that sledgehammer high over his head… and smashed the door of his own garden house!

“He’s gone crazy!” Brutus cried. “The man has gone cuckoo!”

“It’s true,” said Harriet in hushed tones. “Tex has gone bananas.“

And they were absolutely right: the good doctor was smashing in that garden house as if it had personally insulted him. The wood splintered, the windows cracked, and soon an entire wall of the structure collapsed under the onslaught!

“This is gratuitous violence on an alarming scale,” said Harriet, shaking her head.

“But why!” Dooley cried. “Why is he doing this!”

“I’ve read about this,” said Brutus. “Human men of a certain age sometimes go through something called a midlife crisis. It makes them go all weird.”

“I thought men suffering from a midlife crisis started wearing a leather jacket and bought themselves a Harley-Davidson,” I said.

“Or started dating a woman young enough to be their daughter,” Harriet said.

“A midlife crisis manifests itself in different ways in different people,” said Brutus, our resident Sigmund Freud. “And in Tex it apparently manifests as a desire to destroy innocent garden houses that have never done anything wrong.”

We watched on as a second wall of the garden house now collapsed, and Tex started in on wall number three. The roof was already dangling at a crooked angle, and if this kept up, soon there would be no more garden house left!

“I don’t feel safe, Max,” Dooley intimated in a soft tone. “What if he starts destroying the house? And then Odelia’s house? We won’t have a home anymore!”

“Dooley is right,” said Harriet. “We have to stop him before he destroys the house!”

“Oh, God,” said Brutus. “This is just an appetizer for Tex, isn’t it? A dress rehearsal. The moment that garden house is gone he’ll come for our home!”

“We better tell Marge,” said Harriet. “She’s the only one who can stop thismadness!”

And so we all ran into the house, popping through that pet flap one after the other, then spread out to look for the lady of the manor. If anyone could stop Terminator Tex, it was Marge!

“Marge!” I called out as I skipped into the living room.

“Marge!” I could hear Dooley yelling as he checked the upstairs bedroom.

“Marge, where are you!” Brutus called down into the basement.

“Marge, your husband has gone completely stark raving mad!” Harriet yelled.

But unfortunately of Marge there was no trace.

We gathered in the kitchen.“Maybe she’s gone into hiding,” Harriet suggested.

“Maybe Tex locked her up in the attic,” was Brutus’s opinion.

“Maybe Tex chopped her up into little pieces and stuffed her into the freezer!” Dooley cried.

But just then, and much to our elation, Gran walked into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge.

“Gran!” Dooley practically screamed, causing the old lady to jump.

“Dooley, you startled me!” she said, clutching a hand to her chest.

“It’s Tex,” said Harriet. “He’s lost his mind.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Gran as she stuck her head in the fridge and started rummaging around for something to eat.

“No, but he’s really lost his mind,” I said. “He’s taking a sledgehammer to the garden house and completely demolishing it!”

“Of course he is,” said Gran with infuriating equanimity. “How else is he going to build our new spa?” She retracted her head and fixed us with a kindly look. “When you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

“Is Tex making an omelet?” asked Dooley with a puzzled frown.

“No, but he’s creating our family’s newest venture: the Poole Spa& Pool, of which I’m the proud General Manager. So rejoice, ladies and gentlemen, for a new era of wealth and prosperity is about to commence. Within a few short months we’ll all be rich!”

And with these surprising words, she stuck a piece of cold chicken between her dentures and walked out, leaving four cats in the throes of a very powerful emotion. An emotion that can only be described as utter and complete stupefaction.

CHAPTER 11

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“The Poole Spa& Pool,” said Brutus with a touch of reverence. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“No, it does not,” Harriet snapped. “It means they’re going to turn our lovely little home into some kind of glitzy resort, Brutus! Like the Ritz or the Carlton!”

“I think it’s actually the Ritz-Carlton,” I said, but she ignored me.

“Odd,” said Brutus. “I thought there were laws against constructing a resort in the middle of a residential area.”

“Laws are there to be broken, sugar plum,” said Harriet. “And remember who Tex’s sister-in-law is.”

She was right, of course. Marge’s brother’s girlfriend is town mayor, and probably wouldn’t mind bending a few rules and issuing a building permit were a building permit wasn’t strictly allowed. In that sense, Tex was on velvet. He could build his big spa resort and the town council wouldn’t utter a word in protest.

Who was uttering a word in protest was Dooley.“So Tex and Marge are starting a giant resort,” he said, “and Odelia is starting a bed and breakfast in the air, and, and… where does that leave us, you guys!”

It was a question that gave us all pause. I don’t know if you know, but cats enjoy a sedentary life—a life of peace and quiet and fixed habits. In that sense you might even call us autistic. And as far as I know life in a spa is never very peaceful or very quiet or staid. Guests come and go all the time, and usually these places come equipped with a fitness club and a nail salon and sometimes even with a hotel so guests who come from farther afield can still enjoy the spa experience.

And so as we slunk out of the house once more, and found ourselves confronted with a sweaty Tex who stood leaning on his sledgehammer and eyeing his work of destruction with satisfaction, I have to say a sense of gloom wrapped itself around us like a wet blanket.

“It’s the end of an era, my friends,” Brutus spoke softly. “Our home is no longer our home.”

“Yeah, it’s official,” Harriet chimed in. “The Pooles have finally gone nuts.”

“Or they’ve become very smart,” I said. “There’s probably a lot of money to be made in the wellness industry, and maybe they’re right to grab a piece of it.”

“At the very least they could have told us what they were up to,” said Harriet.

Brutus turned to his lady love.“Which proves my point exactly, sweetums. Humans are duplicitous. That’s just the way they are. They simply can’t help it.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Dooley.

We plunked ourselves down on our haunches.“So now what?” asked Harriet. “What are we going to do?”

“We could wait and see how things pan out,” I suggested. “It might take months to build this hotel and spa, and maybe it won’t even be a great success.”

“I don’t know about you,” said Brutus, “but I don’t think I’d enjoy living on a building site. People messing about, digging holes and trampling us underfoot.”

“Cats are very small,” Dooley agreed. “We can easily be trampled underfoot.”

“Do you think they’ll tear down the house?” asked Harriet, glancing up at our lovely home. “They just built it and already they’re going to demolish it again?”

“It’s the way of the future, sweet pea,” said Brutus sadly. “Progress has its price.”

Just then, Marge came charging out of the house. She must have just arrived home and seen the work her husband had wrought.“Tex Poole!” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“I’m tearing down the garden house?” he said hesitantly.

“But why! I thought we were going to turn it into a bathroom?”

“You can’t install a bathroom in an old wooden shack like this, honey. Better to build the thing from scratch and make it nice and sturdy. Build it in brick.”

“Oh,” she said, taking his point of view on board and taking it for a spin. “Did you at least remove all of your tools and Ma’s gardening equipment?”

The sheepish look on Tex’s face told us everything we needed to know.

“Oh, Tex,” Marge sighed, as she dug through the wreckage and liberated the lawnmower. It had taken a dent but still looked fairly functional. Clearly it was made of sterner stuff than the garden house itself.

And since Marge and Tex seemed to have some personal issues to work out, we decided to give them some space and take a look across the hedge. Cats are optimists, you see, and always hope for the best. Perhaps in our absence Odelia had seen the error of her ways and had uninvited the Boggles and sent them on their way?

But we’d only taken one step through the opening in the hedge that divides both backyards to find our hopes crushed: John Boggle was lying stretched out on Chase’s favorite lounge chair, busily tapping a message on his phone, while his dog Little John was lying right next to him, looking very important.

“Oh, hey, cats,” said Little John. “Just the guys I wanted to see. Tell me, who do I talk to around here to take me for my walk? At home it’s usually some junior member of John’s staff who handles that kind of thing. In the meantime I’ve taken the liberty of relieving myself in those bushes over there.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me, and knew that Harriet had added two and two together and had come to the conclusion that Little John had relieved himself in her precious rose bushes—her and Brutus’s makeout spot!

“Oh, and since you’re here, can you talk to management—whoever they are—and tell them to change the food in our bowls? I tried some of the stuff they have on offer and I have to say it’s subpar to say the least. Absolutely subpar.” He closed his eyes again and waved an airy paw. “That’s all for now. Dismissed.”

I could sense that Harriet was about to explode, and so decided to lead her away. After all, it wouldn’t do to commit dogicide and have Big John leave a negative review in the process. Everyone knows that reviews are a big driver of sales, especially for a new startup like Odelia’s Airbnb endeavor.

“Let’s go,” I said, and gently took Harriet by the paw and led her into the house.

“He… he peed in our rose bushes, smoochie poo,” she told Brutus as she staggered along, looking quite stricken. “Our happy place!”

“I know, snuggle bunny,” said Brutus, looking equally affected. “I know.”

“And I’ll bet he pooped, too,” said Dooley, adding his two cents.

CHAPTER 12

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Inside the house, we found Odelia sitting next to Grace’s cradle, appearing moderately frazzled. Then again, I guess starting a new business venture from scratch takes a lot out of a person, especially when she’s just had a baby, which, to all intents and purposes, must be a tough proposition for any human.

Grace, meanwhile, was expressing her opinion on the matter at hand—whatever it was—with customary gusto: she’d opened her lungs and once again was doing a great imitation of a fire engine—or a jumbo jet, as Fifi’s human would have described it. She certainly had a great set of pipes. If I wasn’t mistaken one day she’d give C?line, Mariah, Barbra and Adele a run for their money.

“Do you think Little John pooped in her crib?” said Dooley as we glanced up at our human, who also looked a little pooped.

“Oh, you guys?” said Little Janine, walking up to us from the kitchen. Her jaws were still moving, and I could see crumbs of what looked like the remnants of a gourmet meal on her chin. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used the funny-looking latrine in the kitchen to do my business. I know Little John said to do it in the bushes but I told him I’m a lady, and ladies never do their business in the bushes.”

“Did you… use my litter box?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little sick.

“I don’t know what you call it,” said Little Janine. “It’s big and made of plastic and there’s some kind of funny-smelling sand inside. Very nice. Oh, and if you don’t mind, can you tell Odelia to get me a dog bed? We had to leave England in such a rush Janine forgot to bring mine. Mind you, I only sleep on a Queen Bee dog bed, the one with the genuine sheep wool. I have sensitive skin so I can’t sleep on anything else I’m afraid.” She gave a sort of wave in our direction. “That’ll be all.”

“What was that all about?” asked Odelia, who’d taken Grace from her crib and was gently rocking her in her arms.

“Little Janine wants you to buy her a Queen B dog bed made of real sheep wool,” I said.

“And Little John said to tell you the food is super,” said Dooley.

“Subpar, Dooley, not super,” I corrected my friend.

“And also, Little John pooped in our rose bushes,” said Harriet sadly.

“And Little Janine pooped in Max’s litter box,” Brutus supplied with a grin.

“Uh-huh?” said Odelia. “Is that a fact?”

I had the impression she hadn’t really paid a lot of attention to what we said, and I now saw she had dark rings under her eyes, presumably from a lack of sleep. Cats sleep all the time, you see, in the sense that we take what we can get as far as sleep is concerned. Humans, on the other hand, have this fixed idea that they can only sleep at night, and when they don’t, they simply go through their day like a somnambulist—or the walking dead, whatever the case may be.

“She looks tired, Max,” said Dooley, who had noticed the same phenomenon.

“She looks exhausted,” said Harriet.

“She looks dead on her feet,” said Brutus.

“It’s the Airbnb,” I said. “It must be tough having to deal with these guests.“

I know it was certainly tough on us. Harriet and Brutus’s favorite spot would never be the same again—dog excrement leaves a particularly nasty smell that is very hard to get rid of. And also, it’s hard to get in the mood for sweet luvin’ when everything around you smells like dog poo. My litter box was most definitely ruined now and I probablywould never be able to go again—what cat likes to go where a dog has gone before? Certainly not me! And if I wasn’t mistaken Little Janine and her little brother Little John had eaten all of our food.

Proof of this was when Dooley returned from the kitchen moments later, having ventured there for a quick session of stress-eating, and cried,“They’ve eaten all of our food!”

“Of course they have,” Brutus grunted.

“I thought they said they didn’t like it!” said Dooley.

“Even people who are used to five-star restaurants like to go to McDonald’s from time to time, Dooley,” I said. When he simply stared at me, not comprehending, I explained, “If what Little John and Little Janine are used to can be described as five-star meals then the food we get is more akin to a McDonald’s Happy Meal.” When he still stared at me, puzzled, I explained even further, “We eat what your average gourmet would call comfort food, and even though comfort food isn’t what a foodie would recommend, they still enjoy it when they can.”

Dooley blinked, then reiterated,“but they ate all of our food, Max!”

I sighed.“Yes, Dooley. And I’m sure Odelia has plenty more in store.”

We glanced up at Odelia in hopeful anticipation, but when she simply stared back at us with unseeing eyes, it was obvious that our food situation was dire.

Stomping feet on the stairwell told us that we were no longer alone—then again, when you’re living in an Airbnb, are you ever truly alone?

Janine Boggle appeared, waving what looked like a pillowcase.“What kind of laundry detergent did you use to wash these, Odelia? They smell awful.”

“Tide pods,” said Odelia in a toneless voice.

“Well, I can tell you right now that John won’t get a wink of sleep on these. He’s allergic to all synthetic fragrances. You’ll simply have to give them another wash. And the sheets, too, of course, and the mattress cover, while we’re at it.”

Odelia nodded, and Janine frowned.“Oh, and can you ask your daughter to keep her voice down. John is on a Zoom call, and all this screaming is making it hard for him to focus. Thanks!” she ended on a chipper tone, and was off again.

“Tough business, the Airbnb business,” said Harriet, putting into words what we were all thinking.

The sliding glass door slid open and Marge walked in. Her face was flushed, presumably in the aftermath of her discussion with her builder husband.“I’m here,” she announced, quite unnecessarily, I thought, for we could see she was there. “How is it going?”

“I’m so glad you came,” said Odelia, getting up with some effort. “I don’t know where my head’s at.”

“Your head is on your shoulders, silly,” Dooley laughed, but Odelia hadn’t heard, for Grace had once again decided to loudly voice her discontent. “Can you look after her for a while? John is on a Zoom call and he can’t focus. Oh, and I have some beddings to wash.” She frowned. “Do you have fragrance-free detergent?”

Marge gave her daughter an odd look.“Who are these people again?”

“Friends of Tessa Torrance and Prince Dante. John is Prime Minister of England and Janine is his wife.”

“But… what are they doing here is what I’d like to know.”

Odelia shrugged.“To be absolutely honest it’s a mystery to me, too.”

“Honey, are you sure you’re up to this? I thought you were going to take it easy for a while? Enjoy those first weeks of blessed motherhood?“

“I thought so, too, but Tessa insisted ours was the best place for John and Janine right now, so…” She blew a strand of hair from her eyes.

“What does Chase say?”

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Oh, dear.”

“He’s been so busy with this new case. I hadn’t the heart to tell him. You know how he is. He’d drop his case and come running and that’s the last thing I want.”

“But—“

“I’ll tell him when he gets here.”

“All right,” said Marge as she took Grace from Odelia’s arms. “I guess you know best.” Immediately the baby stopped wailing and was soon glancing around with distinct interest.

“Hey, baby,” I said, waving at the newborn. “My name is Max and these are my friends: Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.”

“Hi, tiny human,” Brutus growled.

“She does have a name, you know,” said Harriet, and smiled up at the baby. “Hey, Grace. Can you understand what we’re saying? You are a Poole, aren’t you?”

But baby Grace didn’t speak. Instead, she drooled, which I guess is also a form of communication.

“Babies don’t immediately start speaking,” said Dooley knowingly. “I saw that on the Discovery Channel. It takes a couple of years.”

“Years!” Harriet cried. “But why!”

“Because humans are slow,” Brutus grunted. “Everybody knows that.”

“Yeah, it takes them years to start talking, and years to start walking,” said Dooley, “and years to start riding a bike, and years to start driving a car. It’s a very, very,very slow process. Like watching paint dry.”

“Give me kittens any day,” Harriet murmured. “Much quicker on the uptake.”

“And a lot cuter, too,” Brutus grumbled.

“Would you call kittens cuter?” I said. I thought Grace looked pretty cute. All pink and round and shiny with health and vigor.

“Definitely,” said Brutus. “Nothing beats kittens when it comes to the cuteness factor.”

“I’m so tired,” said Odelia, rubbing her face. “But if I lie down I know I’ll fall asleep and wake up twelve hours from now.”

“Give me those beddings,” said Marge. “I have a load to wash anyway.”

“No synthetic fragrances, though,” said Odelia. “Or fabric softeners.”

Marge rolled her eyes.“Between Tex demolishing our garden house and your lodgers this is turning out to be one heck of a day.”

Odelia frowned.“Does this have anything to do with the spa you’re building?”

Marge laughed.“Spa? What are you talking about? We’re building a second bathroom.” And when Odelia simply stared at her in wordless surprise, she continued, “With your grandmother hogging the bathroom every morning we had to do something. So we decided to turn the garden house into a bathroom. Only now Tex has gone and demolished it, figuring it wasn’t sturdy enough. I just hope he’ll be able to build that bathroom. Which reminds me—when Chase comes in, can you ask him if he’s got a couple of hours to spare this weekend?”

“Sure thing, Mom,” said Odelia, and yawned cavernously.

“Go and lie down,” said Marge encouragingly. “You need it. Or better yet, come and crash at our place. With these Boggles you won’t get a wink of sleep.”

And so three generations of Poole women walked out of the house, and then it was just us… and those fearful Boggles! Which is why we quickly followed suit.

“A new bathroom?” said Harriet as we emerged through the pet flap. “I thought Gran said they’re building a spa resort?”

“You need plenty of bathrooms in those resorts,” said Brutus. “To wash off the mud from those mud baths and the sweat from those saunas. I’ll bet this is just the first of many more.” He shrugged. “You have to start somewhere.”

It sounded reasonable enough, and since we were all pretty tired from the emotional rollercoaster we’d been through, we followed Odelia and Marge through the opening in the hedge, into the house, up the stairs, into Gran’s room, where we all settled ourselves on the old lady’s bed and were soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER 13

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

At some point Odelia joined us, and I must say we spent a fair time taking a well-deserved nap… until a loud voice awoke us. It seemed to come from somewhere nearby, and even though I didn’t immediately recognize the voice, it was clear that Odelia did, for she groaned and said, “Oh, God, not again.”

It was, of course, one of the guests of her Airbnb, namely Janine Boggle, inquiring loudly where her landlady had gone off to or words to that effect.

Odelia walked out of the room on her tippy toes, careful not to disturb us, and moments later I could hear her converse with her esteemed guest on the landing.

“Oh, there you are.”

“I was just—“

“I wanted to talk to you about meal arrangements.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the thing is that both John and I are very particular where our meals are concerned. As it is, we’re vegetarians, and also we don’t do dairy or gluten or anything that contains glutamate. So what did you have in mind for dinner?”

“Um, well, I have to admit I haven’t, um…”

“Cause I was thinking about something simple yet hearty. Like perhaps a vegetarian wellington? Or enchiladas? Or penne with avocado? Oh, you know what would be great? Butternut squash and sage risotto. What do you think?”

“That… sounds like a good idea.”

“Great. That’s settled then. What time can we expect to sit down for dinner?”

“Oh, you mean I’m the one who—“

“I was thinking six o’clock. John and I are very particular about mealtimes. We think it’s important to train one’s digestive system to adhere to a strict regimen. So let’s settle on six o’clock, shall we? And let’s do lunch at twelve sharp. We like a light lunch—something simple like bean and halloumi stew.”

“Hallou—”

“And while we’re on the subject, we always breakfast at nine. I was thinking carrot cake porridge for me and fried egg Florentine toasties for John—whole-grain only, of course, and preferably spelt, if you can get it, einkorn if not.”

“Ein…”

“Thanks ever so much, Amelia.”

“It’s actually Ode—“

“And don’t forget about those beddings. It’s important that John gets a good night’s sleep. He’s a very important man with a lot of important things to do.”

The creaking of the stairs told us Janine had delivered her list of demands and was exiting the scene. Moments later Odelia entered the bedroom, and wordlessly dropped down on the bed. She looked a little shell-shocked, I had to say. And she’d only been lying there for about five seconds when she bounced up again, muttering something about having to do some shopping. And then she was off.

“It sure isn’t easy being in charge of an Airbnb,” Brutus remarked.

“No, it’s certainly a full-time job,” I agreed.

“So if an Airbnb is a bed and breakfast in the air, why is it in our house?” asked Dooley.

“How can a bed and breakfast be in the air, Dooley?” said Harriet.

“I don’t know. I just pictured it like a hotel floating in the sky.”

We all smiled at the quaint image Dooley had pictured, but then reality sunk in again.“I don’t like to say this, you guys,” said Brutus, “but I’m afraid we’re all going to have to start looking for a new home.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” I said.

“With Odelia’s place infested with guests and dogs, and Marge and Tex turning their home into a spa resort, it’s obvious we’ve outstayed our welcome here.”

“I hate to agree with you, Brutus, but when you’re right, you’re right.”

“But I don’t want to go,” said Dooley. “I like it here. It’s our home.”

“Not anymore, it’s not,” said Harriet sadly. “Now it’s the Boggles’ home.”

We all took a moment to let that sink in. It was a sobering thought. Then Brutus said,“Let’s not fret, my friends. We had a good run, but it was going to end sooner or later. So let’s simply approach this situation in a rational way. I’ll bet there are plenty of places we can go.”

“We could go and live with Uncle Alec,” I suggested. “Or Charlene.”

We’d spent some time with Charlene Butterwick, Alec’s girlfriend, and even though she’s not used to hosting cats, she’d still welcomed us into her home and had done her utmost to provide us with everything a grown cat needs.

“I like Charlene,” said Harriet. “Uncle Alec, too, but his place is a mess.”

“Bachelors,” Brutus grunted, as if he was an expert on the subject, which perhaps he was, since he’d briefly stayed with Uncle Alec, back when Chase was still living with Odelia’s uncle.

“Okay, so Charlene it is,” I said. “So when do you propose we move in with her?”

“The sooner the better,” said Brutus. “It’s obvious that this place is about to turn into a building site, which will make our lives a living hell, and Odelia’s house is already a disaster zone.”

“It is,” I said sadly. “It really is.”

Just then, as if to spur us into action, somewhere nearby Grace opened her pipes again, and was wailing away to her heart’s content, possibly expressing an urgent desire to be fed, or else she’d managed to fill up her diaper once more.

“It’s an odd thing about babies, isn’t it, Max?” said Dooley. “Either they’re eating, or they’re pooping, or both. Isn’t there anything else they can do?”

“You mean like tricks or something?” said Brutus with a grin. “Babies aren’t circus artists, Dooley, didn’t you know?”

“No, I mean, they have a very limited range, don’t they?”

This made Brutus laugh even louder.“Limited range! Like second-rate actors!”

“So when are we making the move to Charlene’s place?” asked Harriet, who was grooming her shiny white fur. “Or do you think we should give the Pooles another day to get their act together and remember that they have a responsibility toward their cats?”

“We could give them until tomorrow,” I said.

“You mean like a multitatum?” asked Dooley.

“An ultimatum, yes. This whole business with the Boggles obviously took Odelia by surprise. She probably hadn’t expected them to be so demanding.”

“Paying guests are always demanding,” said Harriet. “They expect the very best, and if they don’t get it they will leave a scathing review on Welp.”

“Yelp,” I corrected her.

“That’s what I said.”

“I think Airbnb has its own review system. No Yelp involved.”

“Okay, so let’s give them until tomorrow,” said Brutus. “But if things don’t improve within the next twenty-four hours, we’re out of here—agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, with a touch of reluctance, for I like the Pooles—they’re our family. Then again, Charlene is also family, and she probably wouldn’t dream of turning her home into an Airbnb or a spa resort.

“I like Charlene,” said Harriet. “She’s very classy, like me.”

“I also agree,” said Dooley, “but only if I can watch the Discovery Channel in Charlene’s place. Do you think she has a TV? I don’t remember.”

“Of course she has a TV,” said Harriet. “I’ll bet she has the latest model.”

“I don’t mind if it’s not the latest model,” said Dooley. “As long as it has the Discovery Channel.” He sighed deeply. “I’ll miss watching soaps with Gran.”

“I’ll miss a lot of things,” I said.

“Let’s not get mopey,” said Brutus. “We’ll still see the Pooles all the time. They can always come and visit.” He got up and stretched. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving and I’m going to see if I can get a bite to eat.”

And since the mention of food made my stomach rumble, I also got up, and in short order the four of us made our way downstairs and into the kitchen for a refreshing meal… until we saw that our bowls were completely devoid of kibble!

“Who did this!” Brutus cried, then directed his nose to the floor and sniffed. When he looked up again, there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “The Boggles,” he growled. “It’s those darn dogs again! They ate all of our food!”

And before we could stop him, he was off in search of the offending canines.

CHAPTER 14

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Chase had had a rough day. A man had been found stabbed to death, another shot to death, and a third bludgeoned to death, and even though he wasn’t supposed to lead investigations but be the guy steering his detectives from behind his desk, he’d still been compelled to go out into the field—literally, in this case—and do his bit for the good of the investigation. And so when he arrived home he was happy to sink down onto the couch and chill for a few minutes… until he discovered that two dogs had taken over his favorite couch!

“Odelia!” he cried. “What are these dogs doing here?!”

When no response came, he frowned and went in search of his wife. What he found instead was a large male with butter-colored floppy hair who looked like a clown. He was grinning at him, and as he extended his hand, said,“John Boggles, and you must be Mr. Poole.”

Chase stared at the man, and wondered if he’d walked into the wrong house. “The name is Kingsley, actually. Chase Kingsley. May I ask—“

“I wanted to thank you personally, Mr. Kingsley, for the hospitality you have shown me and my wife. Bravo, sir. Bravo.” And he started a sort of earnest slow clap that made Chase look around in search of Ashton Kutcher and his hidden camera. Was this some kind of practical joke? Was his father-in-law behind this?

A woman now descended from the stairs who wasn’t Odelia. She resembled a horse for some reason, and extended a frosty look at Chase.

“Darling, meet Chase Kingsley. Mr. Kingsley is Odelia’s husband.”

“Just the person I was hoping to see,” said the woman, displaying rows and rows of teeth. “I don’t know if your wife informed you that John has a bad back?”

“Threw it out in a game of cricket last fall,” said Mr. Boggle. “Sticky wicket.”

“At any rate, that bed simply won’t do. It sags in the middle. One night on that bed and Johnny will need surgery.”

“I don’t like surgery,” said the woman’s husband. “I hate being put to sleep.”

“So please arrange for a decent box spring, will you? Top of the line, please.”

“Good mattress makes all the difference,” Boggle confirmed. “Night and day.”

“And please be quick about it,” said the lady. “I want that mattress by tonight.”

“How about you, my blossom?” asked Mr. Boggle.

“I’ll survive,” said the woman with a grim look on her face. It made her look like a horse that lost the derby. “Though I’d appreciate it if you’d find a decent mattress for me as well. It doesn’t have to be as expensive as Johnny’s, but it does have to support my back in all the right places. Sleep is important, Mr. Pringles.”

“Kingsley,” Boggle supplied helpfully.

“Right. Well, that’ll be all for now,” she said, and directed a scathing look at the two dogs. “That won’t do,” she muttered, and stalked over there to rearrange their blanket, which had become crumpled. But then Chase saw that it was actually Max and Dooley’s favorite blanket, and hewondered if he’d suddenly entered the Twilight Zone, and Odelia had been replaced by this strange demanding woman, and Max and Dooley by these two dogs. But if that was so, who was Boggle?

“Prime Minister of England,” said the man as if he’d read his mind. “Taking a holiday in Bumpkin Cove, your bucolic little town. Lying low, so to speak.”

“You’re… Prime Minister of England?” asked Chase. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Guilty as charged. Been the top man for years now, and I’m afraid people are starting to get bored with me. You know how it is. One moment you’re more popular than Harry Styles, the next they’re sick of you. Can’t stand your face. Just the way these things go. Even Churchill lost his first election after the war.” His face crumpled. “Though that thing with Janine didn’t help matters, of course.“

“Janine?”

“My wife,” he said, gesturing to the horse-faced woman. “She insisted on giving 10 Downing Street a major overhaul, you see. Figured the previous chappies had despicable taste, and the thing needed sprucing up a goodish bit. I gave her free rein, of course, and I have to say she did a smashing job. Absolutely topping. Only it cost rather a good deal of doubloons, I’m afraid, and when the papers started throwing exorbitant sums around, it rather sunk my popularity. Which is why it was decided I needed to go into hiding for a while in the arse end of nowhere where those johnnies of the press would never find me.” He slapped Chase on the back in a jovial manner. “Which is how we ended up here in Bumpkin Cove!”

Chase would have said something, but at that moment the pet flap flapped and four cats came racing in and made a beeline for the dogs ensconced on the couch. And the next few minutes were taken up by a sort of catfight, or cat-slash-dog fight, for there was a lot of hissing and a lot of barking, and Janine Boggle, if that was the woman’s name, did a lot of hysterical screaming, furiously trying to extricate her dogs from the m?l?e.

“Oh, my,” said Mr. Boggle, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Rather reminds me of a sitting of the House of Commons.”

CHAPTER 15

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I could have said that the contretemps with Little John and Little Janine ended in a resounding victory for Brutus but I would be lying. Then again, it wasn’t as if the fight proceeded entirely fair and square. As it was, Janine intervened by expertly yanking her dogs from the tussle and pressing them to her bosom in an attempt to vouchsafe them from being filleted by a justifiably outraged Brutus.

Even now, half an hour later, our friend was still licking his proverbial wounds.

“It’s not fair,” he was saying as we convened in the backyard. “And Chase just standing there like a big doofus didn’t help.”

“He should have taken your side, sweet pea,” said Harriet.

“He’s our human, isn’t he? Then why did he choosetheir side?!”

“To be fair, Chase didn’t pick any side,” I said. “He decided to stay neutral.”

“Well, I think it’s perfectly horrid of him,” said Harriet. “Brutus is his cat.”

“Technically…”

“Shut up, Max,” said Harriet. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Do we have to pick sides?” asked Dooley. “Can’t we all live together in perfect harmony?”

“No, we cannot!” Harriet snapped. “And if you don’t understand that, you have no right to call yourself a feline.”

“But I don’t call myself a feline. I call myself Dooley.”

“There, there, poor baby,” said Harriet, giving her mate a loving nudge.

But Brutus wasn’t to be consoled. “I know we said we’d give the Pooles twenty-four hours to clean up their act, but now I’m not so sure. It’s obvious they have picked their side, and it’s not our side.”

And as Brutus nursed his wounded pride and Harriet tried to patch up his damaged ego, Dooley and I decided to remove ourselves from the conversation for a little while. Since no food seemed forthcoming, either from Marge (busy with Grace) or Odelia (shopping for the Boggles) or Gran (building Poole Spa& Pool) and we had developed quite an appetite at this point (amazing how invigorating an old-fashioned dog fight can be) we thought we’d try our luck elsewhere.

As we were walking along the street, neatly keeping to the sidewalk as befitting a couple of pedestrians such as ourselves, Dooley said,“We should have known that the arrival of the baby would change everything, Max.”

“You can’t blame the Boggles on Grace, Dooley.”

“But I do! If Grace hadn’t arrived, Odelia would still be working as a reporter, and she would be far too busy to open a bed and breakfast in the sky.”

“I’m sure the air in Airbnb doesn’t actually refer to the sky, Dooley,” I reiterated a point we’d discussed before.

“And if Grace hadn’t come into our lives Marge and Tex and Gran wouldn’t be so desperate to make money that they’re going to turn our home into a resort.”

Which actually made me wonder how they were going to accomplish such a feat. As far as I know—and I know I’m not an expert by any stretch of the imagination—these resorts need a lot of space, especially when they’re going to add in a hotel and all the necessary amenities your spa-going person likes to see.

“Look, Grace is here to stay, Dooley, and frankly I think adding a baby to the mix certainly has its benefits.”

“Like what?” asked Dooley as we neatly sidestepped a sizable sampling of dog excrement that some overzealous canine had left behind and their human had failed to remove.

“Like… well… um… Oh, I have it. Odelia looks a lot happier, doesn’t she?”

“She looks like a zombie, Max, and so does Chase.”

“Well, yes, but underneath that tiredness I’m sure they’re both very happy.”

“They don’t look happy. They look like they haven’t slept in weeks.”

Probably they hadn’t, that much was true.

“Okay, so these first couple of weeks and months are tough, but when Grace starts sleeping through the night, I’m sure their lives will be much enriched.”

“I’ve heard that’s when the trouble starts,” said my friend, who’d suddenly morphed into a sort of prophet of doom and gloom. “When they start to walk. That’s when you have to watch out. They will escape any chance they get, and you have to watch them like a hawk. And then when they start teething it’s even worse. You’ve got a standing appointment with the pediatrician, and then later, when they enter their teens you’ve got a standing appointment with a shrink. All in all, Max, I think kids should come with a health warning, just like cigarettes.”

“I think you’re looking at this all wrong, Dooley. Kids are fun! Kids are a source of great joy and happiness! Okay, so it’s not always easy, but generally humans seem to enjoy having kids.”

“They enjoy making kids, not having them.”

I stared at my friend.“Who told you that?”

He looked bashful for a moment.“I overheard Gran tell her friend Scarlett once. Though I don’t actually know what it means. It does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly sounds like something Gran would say,” I agreed. “Look, Dooley. Babies aren’t like a pair of shoes you buy online: you can’t return them to sender. So we just have to accept that she’s here and decide to make the best of things.”

He sighed deeply.“I just hope Charlene won’t have a baby with Uncle Alec.”

It was a point I hadn’t yet given any thought to. “How old is Charlene?” I asked.

“Isn’t she the same age as Marge and Tex?”

I nodded thoughtfully.“Forty-eight. It’s possible, I guess, though unlikely.”

“You mean her clock is broken?”

“Her clock? What clock?”

“Odelia once told her mom that she heard her clock ticking and that’s how she knew she had to have a baby. I asked her what clock this was, cause I couldn’t see a clock, but she just laughed and patted me on the head.”

“I think she was referring to her biological clock, Dooley.”

“So where does she keep this biological clock? And how come no one else can hear it ticking?”

“Um…” Lucky for me we’d arrived in town, and the hustle and bustle of traffic distracted my friend to some extent. Soon we arrived at the General Store, where Kingman holds forth. Kingman belongs to Wilbur Vickery, who owns the General Store, and is a dear, dear friend of ours. He’s very large and very chatty and is the cat to go to when you’re dealing with an issue, great or small, since he knows all, or at least he thinks he does and so does everyone else in town, including me.

“Hiya, fellas,” he said when he saw us approach, deftly avoiding being trampled on by passersby and his human’s customers. “How are things?”

“Things are… interesting,” I said.

“We’re moving out,” Dooley announced without preamble. “We’re going to live with Charlene Butterwick from now on.”

Kingman’s eyebrows shot up. “Moving out? But why?”

“Odelia had a baby and also, she has started a bed and breakfast in the sky,” Dooley explained, “and so she doesn’t have time for us anymore. And Marge and Tex are opening a wellness resort and are going to turn their house into a hotel, their backyard into a pool and their garden house into a spa. So they won’t have time for us anymore either.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” said Kingman with a frown of concern.

“No, we’re not,” said Dooley. “They gave all of our food to the dogs, and we haven’t had anything to eat since last night.”

“Oh, you poor dears!” Kingman exclaimed. “Here, tuck right in!” He was pointing to a large bowl, filled to the brim with the good stuff. Kingman’s human gets his kibble delivered in bulk, you see, and always has plenty to spare.

We didn’t need to be told twice, and soon were snacking away to our heart’s content. I have to say it hit the spot, and before long we’d managed to empty the bowl. On top of that an old lady who saw us digging in like a couple of famished scavengers took pity on our plight, and opened a can of sardines she’d bought. Now Odelia has often told us not to accept candy from strangers, but A) sardines aren’t candy and B) we really were pretty starved at that point.

“So tell me all about what’s going on,” said Kingman once we’d finished our meal. “Odelia is starting a bed and breakfast?”

I nodded, licking my lips for those precious last crumbs.“Her first guests are a couple named the Boggles. He’s a Prime Minister in England, apparently.”

“And they have two horrible dogs who eat our food, sleep on our blanket, and treat us like surfers,” Dooley supplied.

“I think Dooley means servants,” I clarified.

“I’ve heard of this Boggle character,” said Kingman. “Isn’t he involved in some kind of scandal?”

“Possibly,” I admitted.

“I saw something about him being removed from office for some reason.”

“Removed from office? You mean he’s not the Prime Minister anymore?”

“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t pay a lot of attention, but I seem to remember he took a trip to some private island resort belonging to some billionaire and forgot to declare it as an expense and some people got very upset—possibly his accountant or his taxman or both. At any rate, they replaced him with some other dude or dudette. Plenty of staff turnover in those top jobs, apparently. Not like with our president, who usually manages to stick around for the full four years.”

I can tell you that this news wasn’t received with perfect equanimity. Dooley and I shared a look of dismay.

“Max!” Dooley cried. “If Mr. Boggle is out of a job, that means he’s never going to leave! He’ll stay with us forever and ever and ever!”

CHAPTER 16

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Odelia arrived back at the house with bags full of purchased goods, and had been thinking about the menu Janine had said she and John wanted to adhere to. She wondered how she was ever going to be able to please the demanding couple since she wasn’t exactly a Julia Child or Martha Stewart in the kitchen. She staggered in with the bags, and hoped her mom and Grace were all right. She hated to impose on her mother, but the arrival of the Boggles was an emergency, and she couldn’t very well let Tessa’s good friends down in their hour of need.

The first person she met was Chase, who was talking on the phone and staring out of the window into the backyard. He turned when she entered and immediately jumped to her assistance by taking over one of the heavy bags.

“Yes, to be delivered immediately. Oh, and about that mattress, are you sure it’s designed for people with a back injury? That’s a great relief. Thank you.”

She started putting away the groceries, and wondering if Chase had lost his job at the police station and had gone into the mattress business instead. After he’d disconnected, he joined her and said in a low voice, “What’s the deal with these Boggles? I arrived home and suddenly there they were—and two dogs, too.”

“I wanted to tell you but didn’t want to trouble you when you were in the middle of your investigation,” she said. “Tessa Torrance called and asked if we could help out some good friends of hers and Prince Dante’s. John Boggle is in some kind of trouble at home and needs to disappear fromthe public eye for a while, and she thought the last place the media would look for him is here.”

“Oh, so this was Tessa’s idea, was it?” said Chase, and she had the impression he wasn’t entirely happy with the state of affairs. “The cats and the Boggle dogs got into a fight,” he added when she gave him a questioning look. “I think the dogs won, but I’m not an expert. The cats disappeared and I haven’t seen them since.”

“Oh, dear,” said Odelia, and for the first time that day glanced down at her cats’ bowls. They were all empty. “Oh, dear, oh, dear.” Then she glimpsed into their litter boxes, and found that they were full… and smelly. And as far as she could tell, that was dog poo and not cat poo in there. “Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.” No wonder the cats weren’t happy.

“What’s all this?” asked Chase, referring to the bags and bags of food.

“John Boggle has to stick to a very strict vegetarian diet, so Janine gave me some tips on what to cook for them.”

The corners of Chase’s mouth sagged. “Where is Grace?”

“Next door with my mother. I asked her if she could take care of her while I went shopping for the Boggles.”

“Mh,” said Chase with a frown. “They had me shopping, too. I just ordered a box spring for John, who apparently suffers from a bad back, and a new mattress for Janine as well. Which had me wonder where they’ll be sleeping tonight.”

Odelia gave him a sheepish look.“I asked my dad to help me bring down the old bed from the attic and I put them in the nursery. We’re not using it anyway.” Which was true, since Grace had been sleeping in the bedroom ever since they got back from the hospital. She lifted one of the bags from the counter.

“Honey, you really shouldn’t be carrying these heavy bags,” said Chase as he immediately took the bag from her. “You should be resting. Taking it easy.”

“I know, but the Boggles—“

“Let me take care of the Boggles, all right?”

“But you have your big case to deal with.”

“I know,” he said, and drove his fingers through his dark mane. “But maybe I can talk to your uncle and he can take over for me.”

“Out of the question. You can’t ask Uncle Alec to take over for you so you can take over for me. That’s just silly. No, I’ll just…”

“You’ll just what?”

She held up her hands.“I don’t know. I guess I could ask… Gran?”

Chase lifted one sardonic eyebrow.“If you want to get rid of the Boggles, by all means ask your Gran to jump in.”

“Yeah, probably not a good idea. So maybe…” Her mom already helped out with Grace, and between the library and this bathroom project, she’d have her hands full as well. She slumped a little. “I don’t know, Chase. I really don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised, and held her close and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out.”

And that’s how the Boggles, John and Janine, found them. “I say,” said John, “I was going to take a shower but I seem to have some trouble getting the water really, really hot, you know. I like it hot—scalding, almost. Could you perhaps…”

Chase nodded.“It’s an old system and needs careful handling.” And both men left to deal with this hot shower emergency.

“I’m in something of a pickle myself,” said Janine. “I don’t seem to have quite the closet space I need. You wouldn’t happen to have some extra space in your room, would you?”

“Of course,” said Odelia, and pushed herself away from the counter. “I’ll free up some space in our closet.” And so she found herself reorganizing her closets so she could accommodate their guests. Janine had lots of gorgeous dresses, and it took a while to get them all on hangers. For the time being she removed her own dresses and Chase’s suits, and piled them up in a corner of the room.

“If I could give you some advice?” said Janine, eyeing the bedroom with a critical eye. “I think you could work wonders with this space—absolute wonders. If you want I could give you some pointers. I’m an avid interior decorator and doing a home makeover is something of a passion of mine.I love a challenge.”

She followed Janine’s gaze and saw she was staring at a picture of Odelia and Grace. The picture was taken at the hospital, and Odelia thought she looked terrible, but Chase said it was his favorite picture of her and he just loved it.

“Do you have kids?” Odelia asked.

“No, I haven’t,” said Janine with a touch of wistfulness. “Though I want to.”

“It’s not too late. How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Plenty of time left,” said Odelia with a smile.

“I know, but John…” Janine hesitated, then glanced in the direction of the door and lowered her voice. “John already has kids from a previous marriage, and he’s not looking to have more. Though now I’m starting to regret having said I didn’t want any either.”

“Have you had that conversation?”

“Not really. John’s been so busy these last couple of years…”

“Looks like he’s less busy now,” said Odelia. “So maybe now’s the time to talk?” She gave the woman an encouraging smile. “Strike while the iron is hot, right?”

Janine gave her a lopsided grin.“Yes, I guess you’re right.”

Just then, Janine’s dogs came tripping into the bedroom, took one look around, seemed to roll their eyes and walked right out again. Seen and disapproved.

CHAPTER 17

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“What if Charlene doesn’t want us?”

“We don’t know that, Dooley.”

“No, but suppose she doesn’t even like cats and is afraid to say?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, some people will say anything to please other people, especially when they’re related to the man they love, in this case Uncle Alec. So maybe Charlene has been tolerating us all this time, but secretly hates cats from the bottom of her heart and when we go and live with her she’ll do what she can to get rid of us.”

“I think if Charlene was secretly a cat hater we would have noticed by now.”

“But she’s a politician, Max.”

“So?”

“Politicians are trained to lie. They’re the best liars on the planet. They’re professionals. So she could lie to your face and you wouldn’t even know it.”

He had a point, of course. It is true that politicians, before they join the trade, go to politician school, where one of the main courses is‘lying for fun and profit.’ The same thing goes for lawyers, bankers and hedge fund managers, who take some of the same courses.

“So… how do we find out, Max?”

“I guess we’ll know soon enough,” I said.

He gave me a look of concern.“What if she sneaks up on us in the middle of the night with a big butcher’s knife and chops us up into little pieces? Or what if she makes a deal with a local butcher to sell us as meat and turn us into sausages?”

“Then I guess we’ll have to be on our guard, Dooley.”

“We’ll take turns keeping watch,” he said determinedly. “I’ll take the first watch, and then you and Brutus and Harriet can take the next shifts. We can’t allow her to get rid of us, Max. She’s our last hope.”

We were passing by one of those blind alleys, of which there are quite a few in Hampton Cove, and a loud voice hailed us.“Max! Dooley! Over here!”

I recognized the voice as belonging to our friend Clarice, whose favorite hobby is dumpster-diving. She’s one of those free spirits, you see, and likes to live life on her own terms, untethered and unbound by the rules of society.

“Hey, Clarice,” I said as we joined her underneath a sizable dumpster. She was snacking on some carrion, presumably the mortal remains of a rat. I shivered a little, and had to look away as she dug in with distinct relish.

“Long time no see,” said Clarice, her keen eyes taking us in. She’s a smallish cat, but tough as nails, with chunks missing from both ears and looking as if she’s been through the wars, which presumably she has—a veteran of many a battle. She now narrowed her eyes at Dooley. “You look like you got something on your mind, Dooley. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Clarice, everything is wrong!” said Dooley with a catch in his voice.

“Oh, my,” said Clarice. “You better tell me all about it.”

“Odelia is starting a bed and breakfast in the sky, only she’s not doing it in the sky but in our own home, and she’s hosting the Prime Minister of England who’s not the Prime Minister of England anymore because he was on a billionaire island and he forgot to tell people about it. And now his dogs are eating our food and sleeping on our blanket and they’ve taken over the house! And Tex is building a spa and is turning his house into a hotel and so we’ll have to move out but Charlene hates cats but nobody knows because she’s a politician and she took a lying course and she’s going to murder us in our sleep and turn us into sausages!”

“Oh, dear,” said Clarice with uncharacteristic softness.

“And now we don’t know what to do!” Dooley finished his long lament.

“I see,” said Clarice, then turned to me for clarification.

“It’s true,” I said. “More or less. I don’t know about the sausage part, though.”

“It could be hamburger patties,” Dooley said with a sniffle.

“So looks like you guys are in a pickle, huh?” said Clarice, summing things up nicely. “And you’re looking for a place to stay?”

We both nodded intently.“A place where they won’t try to kill us or kick us out or both,” Dooley added. It’s a stipulation I think all pets would agree with.

“This is one of those moments where the appropriate response would be ‘I told you so,’” said Clarice. “But since I’m a nice kitty I won’t gloat.” She was smirking a little, though, but with Clarice it’s hard to tell, since she has so many scars it’s tough to read her expression.“Don’t place your trust in humans, fellas!” she said emphatically. “It only leads to disappointment and heartbreak. You have to learn to take care of yourself. I mean, look at me. I’m perfectly happy. I do what I want, when I want—got plenty of chow, lots of friends—I’m living the perfect life! So instead of whining and moping, rejoice! You’re finally free! Free of the tethers of those terrible restrictions a life in the lap of luxury invariably brings!”

We both stared at her, not fully comprehending what she was saying.“So your point is…” I said.

“You don’t need Odelia or Marge or Vesta or any of these utterly unreliable humans. These streets are your home! In other words: the world is your oyster!”

“I don’t like oysters,” said Dooley.

“Me, neither,” I said. “Too slimy for my taste.”

Apparently this wasn’t the right answer, for Clarice grumbled something under her breath, then tore another piece off the carcass lying between her paws.

“You don’t understand, Clarice,” I said. “We’re not like you. We haven’t lived on the streets all our lives. We’re creatures of comfort, used to a lovely home, a warm body to cuddle up to, our bowls always filled with our favorite kibble…”

“In other words: spoiled rotten.”

“Yes, yes, all right, I admit it: we’re spoiled. Which is why I think it would be hard for us to adjust to life on the street. I mean, it’s all fine and dandy in the summer, when the weather is nice and you can sleep under a tree. But in wintertime, when it’s freezing and snowing, it’s going to be tough!”

“Brrrr,” said Dooley, shivering. “I don’t like snow. It’s very cold and very wet.”

“Pussies,” Clarice growled, shaking her head in disgust. “I should have known my good advice would be wasted on you.”

“It’s not wasted,” I assured her. “In fact we might take you up on it. If Charlene turns out to be a secret cat hater, we won’t have any other recourse but to adjust to life on the street.”

“We could always go and live with Wilbur and Kingman,” Dooley suggested.

“I don’t think Wilbur would agree to take in another four cats,” I said.

“Oh, you bunch of crybabies,” Clarice growled. “Look around! There’s plenty of people who’ll take you. In fact the world is filled with people who want nothing more than to coddle and spoil you rotten. Just put an ad in the paper—or better yet, post something on Facebook and you’ll have people clamoring to adopt you.”

“You think?” said Dooley, blinking excitedly. “That’s great news, Clarice!”

“Get out of here,” said Clarice with a throwaway gesture of her paw. “You guys make me sick. Just get lost already. Go on, get!”

“But Clarice,” said Dooley. “You have to tell us more about these Facebook people.”

“For crying out loud,” she grumbled, stalking off in the direction of the next dumpster. “Talk about a couple of namby-pamby cats wasting my precious time.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see you later, Clarice,” I said.

But she’d already jumped into the dumpster, and judging from the sounds of a feverish scuffle, was probably in the process of catching herself another juicy rat.

“Thanks for the advice, Clarice!” Dooley shouted, and then we were on our way again. “We have to do this, Max,” he said as we wended our way home again. “We have to put a post on Facebook, saying we’re looking for a new home.”

“Let’s do that first chance we get,” I agreed.

“Harriet will know what to do. She’s a social media maven. If Clarice is right, we’ll have a new home in no time. And maybe this one won’t be as noisy and polluted with annoying guests as the last.”

And on this hopeful note, we commenced our trek back.

CHAPTER 18

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Vesta stood looking at the remnants of the garden house with a big frown on her face.“Before you knocked down this thing you could have thought about removing my gardening tools first,” she said.

“I know. I didn’t think,” said her son-in-law as he gave her a rueful look.

“It’s fine. The lawnmower took a hit but he’s a sturdy old sucker so he’ll live. Now we need to get going on that wall over there. I suggest you take out the center piece first, then gradually work your way to Ted and Marcie’s hedge.”

“I’m not taking out that wall. Are you crazy? Blake Carrington will sue me.”

“No, he won’t. I told you, Blake will only be too happy that finally this worthless piece of land is going to be put to good use. And you can split the proceeds of the spa once things get going well. And trust me: people are gonna come from all over town to take a dip in the Poole pool.” She grinned. “Thought of that myself.”

“Vesta—“

“We’ve got a gold mine here, Tex, so let’s cut the chitchat and get cracking.”

But instead of putting his sledgehammer to good use, Tex crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her a mutinous look. It was a look she was accustomed to.

“What is it now?” she said, trying to dredge up some much-needed patience from the depths of her being. She’d known from the start that living with Tex Poole wouldn’t be easy, and she’d resigned herself to always be kind and take his weird quirks and peccadillos in stride, like a good mother-in-law must. She didn’t suffer fools gladly but this was one fool she had to tolerate, for Marge’s sake. But if he was going to stand in the way of progress, he had another thing coming.

“I’m not building a spa, Vesta. I’m building a second bathroom.”

“Oh, not again with the bathroom, Tex. You’re starting to sound like a broken record. Just put your back into it and get smashing. Just imagine you’re the Incredible Hulk or something. Hulk smash!”

But Tex wasn’t budging. So Vesta did the only sensible thing: she took a firm hold of that sledgehammer and dragged it over to the separating wall.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” she grumbled as she tried to lift the thing. It was a lot heavier than she thought, and the moment she’d managed to hold it over her head, she toppled backward and fell on her tush. “Darn it.”

“I don’t know why you insist on building a spa,” said Tex, helping her to her feet. “We don’t have the space or the permission, and we certainly don’t have the expertise to build or run a spa. Nor do I want to run a spa, and neither does Marge.”

“Well, I want to run a spa,” said Vesta stubbornly. “There’s a lot of money in wellness, Tex, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed, all right, but it’s not a business I want to get into. I’m a doctor, and Marge is a librarian, and we’re both perfectly happy doing what we do.”

“Okay, fine. So I’ll build the spa, and I’ll run it all by my lonesome.”

“You can’t build and run a spa, Vesta.”

“Watch me,” she said, and spat on her hands and grabbed the sledgehammer again. No one could ever accuse her of giving up at the first hurdle. She was a go-getter, a doer, a woman of action! She could teach Wonder Woman a thing or two!

“For God’s sakes, give me that hammer before you hurt yourself.” He took hold of the hammer and tried to drag it from her hands.

“Let go!” she said. “It’s my hammer!”

“No, it’s not. Just give it to me!”

“No way! I’m building myself a spa even if it kills me!”

“If you keep this up you just might get your wish. Now give!”

“Never!”

The tug of war continued unabated for the next few moments, until finally Vesta had enough and let go. The upshot was that Tex staggered back, lost his grip on the hammer, which swung up and described a perfect arc through the air and finally landed in their next-door neighbors’ backyard.

There was a crashing sound, and Vesta and Tex shared a look of consternation, then both ran in the direction the heavy hammer had landed. And as they glanced across the hedge, they saw that the tool had smashed straight into a large garden gnome—the pride of Ted Trapper’s collection. The business end of the sledgehammer had taken out the head of the gnome, which now had to go through life without a head. No great loss, but Ted might think different.

“Maybe we can glue it back together?” Vesta suggested.

“It looks pretty smashed up,” said Tex.

“Yeah, it looks… pulverized.”

Tex let out an involuntary chuckle, which caused Vesta to release a high-pitched giggle, and soon they were both shaking with mischievous mirth.

“We better remove that hammer before Ted finds out,” said Tex finally.

“Give me a leg up,” Vesta suggested. “I’ll go and get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just do it.”

So Tex gave her a leg up, and Vesta clambered across that hedge, looking in the direction of the house to make sure Ted or Marcie hadn’t noticed, grabbed the hammer and dragged it back to the hedge, then lifted it with some effort—the thing was hea-vy!

“Got it,” said Tex, then helped her back to the other side.

She held up her hand and he clapped it in a perfect high five.

“Well done, pardner,” she said.

“Well done yourself,” he said.

“Too bad about that gnome.”

He shrugged.“Oh, well.”

It wasn’t a big secret that Tex had never liked the fact that Ted had started his own gnome collection after Tex had started his, and that a healthy rivalry had soon developed between the two neighbors over who possessed the nicest and most expensive collection of gnomes. Looked like Ted was now one gnome down. And Tex certainly wouldn’t shed any tears—quite the contrary, in fact.

“So about that spa,” she began as they walked back to the house.

“Oh, God, will you cut it out with the spa already!” he cried.

“But it’s such a great concept!”

“I don’t care!”

“But, Tex!”

“No means no!”

“Maybe a small spa? Like a mini-spa?”

“No!”

“You won’t even notice. I’ll keep it really tiny. A teeny-tiny spa.”

“No!”

“You’re so unreasonable!”

And so, as the poet said, the long day wore on.

CHAPTER 19

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Marge eyed baby Grace with a benevolent eye. She loved babysitting her granddaughter. Granddaughter. Now wasn’t that something? She had a granddaughter. Which meant she was now a grandmother, and Tex was a grandfather. My, my. Just then, Tex and Marge’s mom came walking into the kitchen, both looking a little heated. Presumably they’d gotten into another argument about the so-called spa, even thoughthere had never been any mention of a spa.

The moment their gaze fell upon the domestic scene of Marge feeding Grace a bottle of Odelia’s self-made brew, their truculence immediately ceased and they both took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Isn’t she just the cutest?” said Ma. “She gets that from my side of the family.”

“I’m sure she gets that from my side of the family,” Tex countered.

“How can you say that? She’s the spitting image of my grandmother—may she rest in peace—who also had a little dimple in her cheek.”

“Lots of babies have dimples in their cheeks, Ma,” said Marge. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“She’s a Muffin,” Ma insisted. “Of course she is. And I’ll bet she can talk to cats, too, which will be the litmus test.” She leaned forward and dabbed her finger against Grace’s pink cheek. “Can you talk like a cat? Oh, yes, you can. Oh, yes, you can. Say something.”

“Ma! Just leave her alone.”

“Fine. But she’s a Muffin.”

“She is a little muffin, isn’t she?” said Tex softly. He smiled at the baby. “Our granddaughter, honey. Can you believe it? We’re grandparents now.”

“I know,” said Marge. “Isn’t that something?”

“And I’m a great-grandmother,” said Ma, though she didn’t look entirely happy to make that discovery. “Great-grandma Muffin.” She cocked her head. “Have to get used to that one.”

“So when is my bathroom going to be finished?” Marge asked.

“Soon,” Tex promised. “I talked to your brother and he and Chase will give me a hand this weekend. Together we should be able to put something together.”

“Or not,” said Ma.

“Have a little faith in your son-in-law, Ma,” said Marge. “He knows what he’s doing. Don’t you, honey?”

“Absolutely,” said Tex, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“I still think you should give that spa idea another chance,” said Ma.

“Oh, God,” said Tex, sinking his head in his hands.

“No spa, Ma,” said Marge. “We don’t need it.”

“I need it!”

“No, you don’t. You’ve got a perfectly fine job at the office.”

“Perfectly boring job, you mean,” the old lady grumbled. “Having to listen to people whining about their kidney stones or blather on about their bladder.”

“You’re doing something good for mankind. It’s a noble profession.”

“Says you.”

Marge sighed and decided not to get worked up. Bad vibes for Grace.“By the way, can you check next door when you have a moment, honey? I have a feeling Odelia is in over her head with those guests of hers.”

“Guests? What guests?” said Tex, watching on in fascination as Grace wrapped her tiny little digits around his index finger.

“Oh, Tex. The guests! The Boggles!”

“What Boggles? What are you talking about?”

“John and Janine Boggle are staying next door. He’s the Prime Minister of England and she’s his wife. Apparently Tessa Torrance called and asked if they could stay over for a couple of days.”

“The Prime Minister of England is staying next door?”

Marge bit back a groan of exasperation. She loved her husband dearly, but sometimes he seemed to live on a different planet than the rest of them.“Yes, he arrived this morning and is planning to stay for a while.”

“But he shouldn’t—he can’t—Odelia has to rest.”

“I know, which is why you better go and check on her. I already said I’d help with the cooking and the cleaning, and maybe you can also chip in.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know, Tex—anything!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, looking unconvinced. “Does he have health issues? Is that why he’s staying with our daughter?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He just got canned from his job as PM,” said Ma, who was gently tickling Grace’s belly and receiving a lot of exuberant giggles as a reward.

“He got fired from his job?” asked Marge. This was news.

“Sure. Defrauded someone or something or whatever. I don’t know. I just scanned the headlines. Politicians behaving badly doesn’t make for interesting reading.”

Tex, who’d been scrolling on his phone, said, “Looks like he accepted a trip to some tropical private island as a gift from a billionaire friend of his.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” said Ma. “If I had a billionaire friend and he offered me a trip to his private island I’d be on a plane quick as a flash.”

“The Prime Minister of a nation can’t accept free trips, Ma,” said Marge. “It opens him up to all kinds of accusations of favoritism.”

“I don’t get it,” said Ma with a frown. “Who doesn’t like to be the favorite?”

“Okay, so what if this billionaire owns a chain of supermarkets, and wants to build a superstore in the heart of London, only he’s been having trouble getting permission, and now all of a sudden his plans are being fast-tracked. People will say that he bought the approval by bribing his good friend the PM.”

“Okay. Still don’t get it.”

“It’s called corruption, all right? Which is why politicians cannot accept gifts from anyone. And even if Boggle did nothing wrong, it still looks bad that he would be hobnobbing with billionaires on their private island.”

“I say live and let live, but that’s just me,” said Ma.

“If this guy is out of a job,” said Tex. “Does that mean he’s flying home soon? Or that he’ll stick around indefinitely?”

They all shared a look of concern.“Go over there now, Tex,” Marge insisted. “Your daughter needs you.”

“Yes, Tex,” said Ma with a slight grin. “For once in your life be a man and do something.” Once Tex was off, huffing a little and muttering something to himself, Marge gave her mother a look of disapproval, she added, “What? What did I say?”

Marge sighed and gently tapped her granddaughter’s nose. “This is the family you’ve chosen, honey. Are you sure you want to stick around?”

“We’re a good family,” muttered Ma. “The best.” Then she brightened. “So have you considered how much money a spa can—“

“No, Ma. No spa.”

“But—“

“No spa!”

“Oh, fine. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, will you?”

Just then, Grace gurgled something and pulled Ma’s nose.

“Who needs a spa when we’ve got you, mh?” said Marge.

“You’re right,” said Ma. “Who needs a spa anyway?”

Marge looked up sharply.“Did you just tell me I’m right?”

“I know,” said Ma. “I must be softening with old age.”

Or because she’d just become a great-grandmother.

“Not that I’m old, mind you. Older, yes, but still young.”

“Of course, Ma. Of course.”

CHAPTER 20

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Some kind of big to-do or hubbub was in progress when Dooley and I arrived at the house. On the way home we’d discussed the matter further and decided that if Charlene turned out to be a sausage-eating cat hater, we needed a plan B, and had landed on Gran’s friend Scarlett as the next best option. Scarlett doesn’t own pets, I know for a fact that she doesn’t hate us, and she’s very nice. And it’s always better to pick a person you know than some unknown on Facebook.

So all in all we were feeling in an uplifted state of mind when we turned a corner and entered Harrington Street. We’d tell Odelia we were leaving tonight, and then first seek out Charlene, stay the night as a trial run, and then if things didn’t work out, move in with Scarlett tomorrow. In other words, a foolproof plan.

Only when we had almost reached the house, we met with an unusual sight: Odelia was walking two dogs: Little John and Little Janine. Our human—or soon-to-be ex-human—looked dead on her feet, and I immediately felt sorry for her. And when we approached, she barely managed to give us a smile in greeting.

“Take us further afield, will you, Odelia?” said Little John. “I don’t like these trees.”