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“Rudolph was a successful businessman?” I asked, much surprised.

“What business was he in?” asked Dooley.

“He owned several casinos in Atlantic City. So he had plenty of black money.”

“Rudolph’s money was black?” asked Dooley. “But why? Did he paint it?”

“The money wasn’t actually black, Dooley,” Kingman explained patiently. “But it was income he hadn’t declared to the IRS, so he wouldn’t have to pay taxes on that income.”

“So Rudolph invested his black money in his brother’s business?” I said.

Kingman nodded.“All very illegal, of course, but the lady Wilbur bought the store from didn’t mind. In fact she was happy to receive part of the purchasing price under the table.”

“Under what table?” asked Dooley.

“So on paper Rudolph is Wilbur’s partner?” I asked.

“Yeah, he actually owns a bigger piece of the store than Wilbur himself.”

“And of the building where you and Wilbur live. So you’re living in Rudolph’s house.”

“Yeah, so whenever he comes to stay, he stays for as long as he wants, since it’s his place, and Wilbur is a guest, and so,” he added sadly, “am I.”

“Does Wilbur have to pay rent to his brother?”

“They have some kind of arrangement. Part of the profits go to Rudolph every month.”

“Also under the table.”

“Yep.”

“You guys,” said Dooley, intrigued. “Where is this table?”

Kingman gave me a warning look.“Don’t tell anyone I said this, you hear?”

“Now who would I tell, Kingman?”

“You could tell Odelia, and she could tell Chase, and since Chase is a cop he’d feel obliged to notify the IRS and Wilbur could be in a whole lot of trouble, and maybe even lose the store.”

“I won’t tell Odelia.”

“You have to watch out for that pillow talk,” said Kingman, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know pillows could talk,” said Dooley with a laugh.

“Pillows don’t talk,” said Kingman, “but the people whose heads are on those pillows when they’re lying in bed together do talk.” He gave me another intent look.

“I won’t tell anyone, Kingman. Your secret is safe with me.”

“And with me,” said Dooley. “The secret of the money table and the talking pillow.”

“Thanks, Dooley,” said Kingman with a smile. “You’re a real pal.”

Just then, there was some kind of a commotion, and when we glanced over in that direction, we saw that Harriet and Brutus had arrived, with Gran and Scarlett in tow.

“Listen up!” Gran shouted to all the cats gathered there. “We need volunteers to act in our new photo comic. It’s going to appear in two thousand five hundred newspapers around the world, and is bound to be a surefire hit.”

“And I’m starring in it!” Harriet piped up. “Your very own choir star!”

“So if anyone feels like they want to become comic strip stars, step forward and we’ll shoot a couple of comics right here and right now.”

“Oh, dear,” I said.

“I hope they don’t pick me,” said Dooley, inching behind my broad back so he wouldn’t be spotted and picked.

“What’s this all about?” asked Kingman.

“Harriet’s latest scheme to become rich and famous,” I said. “She’s starring in her own comic strip, but since Gran can’t draw, and neither can Scarlett, they’ve decided to turn it into a photo strip instead.”

“I don’t mind being in it,” said Kingman.

“A word of warning, my friend,” I said. “Be prepared to get kicked or squashed. Harriet and Brutus are the stars. The rest is there as props to expend their cartoon violence on.”

“You mean like Tom and Jerry, where Tom always gets kicked and thrown out of windows and such?”

“Yeah, something like that, only Tom and Jerry is a cartoon, and nobody gets hurt in a cartoon. This is real, isn’t it, Dooley?”

“I was kicked three times by Brutus,” Dooley said.

“Ouch,” said Kingman.

“It didn’t hurt, though.”

But as we watched, plenty of cats stepped forward, all fodder for Harriet’s comic mill.

“Looks like cat choir has just turned into a recruiting ground for Harriet’s career,” I said.

“It’s still better than having to listen to Rudolph,” said Kingman moodily.

“You know what you should do? Talk to Gran, and suggest that Wilbur buy out his brother. That way Rudolph won’t have an excuse to drop by and intrude upon your peaceful home life.”

“Buy out Rudolph?”

“Why not? That way Wilbur will own the building and the business free and clear.”

“It’s an idea,” Kingman agreed. But then he shook his head. “Too risky. If you tell Vesta, she’ll tell the whole town, and before you know it, Wilbur gets inspected and the government will seize the store.”

“Okay, so what if we tell Gran to be discreet about it?”

He made a scoffing sound.“When have you ever known Vesta to be discreet about anything?”

“Mh,” I said. “Let me give it a think, Kingman. I’m sure there must be a solution.”

“If you find a solution, more power to you, Max. I’ve been thinking and thinking and so far I haven’t been able to come up with anything that doesn’t end in total and utter disaster.”

And with these hopeful words, he trudged off to assume his position as part of the bass lineup. Rehearsals were about to start, photoshoot or no photoshoot, and already Shanille was raising her paws to gather her choir and start tonight’s rehearsals.

Harriet and Brutus and Gran and Scarlett had walked off with about a dozen eager candidates, and it looked like their shoot was about to commence, too.

And frankly I’d never been more glad not to be a part of something as I was now.

And as rehearsals progressed nicely, even without our lead soprano, I started to notice how from time to time a cat would come stumbling out of the shrubbery, and start to lick its wounds. All of them seemed a little worse for wear, and when Buster, the hairdresser’s cat, came tottering up to us and took up his usual position next to me in the choir lineup, and I whispered, “What’s going on?” he said, “Brutus kicked me. Even though your gran told him not to, he kicked me, Max. Though lucky for me he only used his left leg.”

“Oh, dear,” I said.

“Looks like Brutus is taking his role a little too seriously,” Dooley whispered.

“Yeah, looks like,” I agreed.

It happens sometimes, you see. Actors play a part, and decide they’re going to stay in character throughout the entire shoot. If they have to play some creepy part, they act like creeps throughout the shoot, and if they’re supposed to be play some adulterous character, they go around being adulterous for weeks on end. It’s extremely annoying for the other actors involved, and probably for the actors’ significant others, too. And now Brutus had clearly fallen prey to this same erroneous belief that you can only play a part if you really dive into it headfirst and don’t come out again until the movie is in the can.

More cats now came stumbling out of the shrubbery, and finally Gran’s voice could be heard screaming, “Brutus, for crying out loud—it’s Harriet who’s supposed to do the kicking—not you!”

Yep, the life of a director is hard!

Chapter 17

I would like to say that I had a good night, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. And it wasn’t because I was thinking about Jayme languishing in the pen, or even Kingman having to endure his human’s brother’s heavy metal ambitions. It was in fact Brutus who kept me awake all night. Now I think I’ve sufficiently impressed upon you how taken my friend was with his new acting role, and he seemed to carry this through into his sleep as well. In fact his acting had presumably seeped straight into his subconscious, and so he kept acting out his part even when he was fast asleep.

The first time I woke up I didn’t know what had awakened me. As so often happens, you pick up a sound, but by the time you’re awake, of course that sound has dissipated and you’re left grasping for clues as to what could have possibly dragged you out of that pleasurable dream about a new kibble, delicious like nothing you’ve ever tasted before.

The second time I woke up I experienced a distinct sensation of pressure in my left buttock, but when I glanced over I saw nothing out of sorts, so I went straight back to sleep.

And it was only the third time that I finally caught the culprit: it was Brutus, and he was kicking in his sleep! And since he was lying right next to me, unfortunately I was the recipient of his acting prowess.

“Brutus,” I said, shaking him gently.

“I’m sorry, Gran,” he murmured. “Can I have another take? I didn’t feel it that time.”

“Brutus!” I insisted, trying to stir him to full wakefulness.

Finally he opened his eyes and stared at me.“Max? What’s going on, brother?”

“You have got to stop kicking, Brutus,” I said.

He groaned.“That’s what Gran keeps telling me. But I can’t stop, Max. I simply can’t!”

“I know, you’ve kicked me in the rear three times already.”

“I have? How strange.”

“In your sleep,” I specified.

“Oh.” He frowned. “So now I’m kicking in my sleep, huh? It’s getting worse, Max.”

“I know. So either you go and sleep someplace else, where you can’t kick me, or you have to control this habit you’ve developed.”

He quickly glanced around, and when he saw that Harriet wasn’t amongst those present—presumably she’d gone downstairs to have a nibble of kibble—he said, in softer tones, “It’s Harriet, see.”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s going on?” asked Dooley, who’d also woken up.

“Brutus keeps kicking me,” I explained.

“He kicked me, too,” Dooley lamented. “Three times.”

“That was yesterday, this is now,” I said. “So what about Harriet?”

“Well, she insists that we act out the comic as dynamically as possible, since the camera will only serve to diminish our facial expressions, so we need to ham it up.”

“You’ve certainly succeeded,” I said.

“Thanks, Max. That’s always nice to hear.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Oh.” He gave me a rueful look. “The thing is that now that I’ve started kicking, I can’t seem to stop! It’s part of my persona now, Max. It’s how I see Brutus.”

“How you see yourself, you mean?”

“No, how I see my character. Brutus.”

“But you are Brutus, so you’re playing yourself.”

“Yes, but no. Brutus is a character that Gran and Scarlett created, and I’m playing him. And Brutus, as I see him, is a cat who likes to kick up a fuss. He does it to impress Harriet, you see, the love of his life, and now that I’ve fully conquered the part I can’t seem to stop. I’m living the part, Max. I am Brutus.”

“I know you’re Brutus, Brutus.”

“No, I mean I’mBrutus Brutus”

“This is all very confusing,” said Dooley.

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Brutus.

“You better turn him off now,” I said, “or else I’ll be the one who kicks you off the bed.”

“You can’t do that, Max,” said Brutus.

“And why not?”

“Because you’re the spider, and the spider always gets squashed.”

I was really starting to hate this whole Harriet the Cat thing, I’ll tell you.

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The next morning, more or less bright and early, we were in Uncle Alec’s office, for a meeting with the big guy and his team of detectives. Well, one detective in the form of Chase, and one civilian consultant, part of an effort by the police department to bring policing closer to the public. And since Odelia is as much a member of the public as any member of the public could be, she’s the spearhead of this effort. And it seems to work, because if people stiffen when they encounter Chase in his capacity as police detective, they immediately relax when Odelia introduces herself as his civilian consultant. They open up to her and find themselves sharing stuffthey’d never divulge to a cop.

“Okay, so where do we stand?” asked Uncle Alec as he gave us a bleary-eyed look.

“Do you think Brutus has been kicking him all night, too, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t think so, Dooley, because he’s been kicking us all night.”

“You look like hell, Chief,” said Chase. “What happened?”

“Did you have a fight with Charlene?” asked Odelia with a measure of concern. Ever since Uncle Alec has found true love in the arms of Charlene Butterwick, our town’s wonderful mayor, he’s become a new man. A man who takes better care of himself, and generally a happier person.

“Noise complaint,” said the Chief. “Rudolph Vickery got it into his nut to play a heavy metal concert in the middle of the night. Just him and his boombox in front of Town Hall. Says he suddenly felt inspired.” He rubbed his face. “Give me some good news, people.”

“When is Jayme’s arraignment?” asked Odelia.

“Tomorrow. So what have you got?”

“Okay, so we talked to Veronica James yesterday, and she claims to have been in bed, asleep, when her husband was killed. And her son Danny says he took a drive in his car.”

“What about… Heiko Palace?” asked Uncle Alec, consulting his notes.

“I checked with his wife,” said Chase, “and she confirms he was with her all night.”

“She could be lying,” Odelia pointed out.

“They could all be lying,” said Chase.

“How about that handwriting expert?” asked the Chief. “What did he have to say?”

“He confirms that the handwriting is definitely Dave’s,” said Chase, nodding.

Uncle Alec directed a significant look to his niece.“That sounds pretty damning.”

“I know,” said Odelia, who didn’t look too happy at this development.

“What worries me is that the killer took the turtle,” said Chase. “And I really don’t see how a seventeen-year-old girl who doesn’t even own a car could have shifted a three-hundred-pound turtle. Also: why would she do that? And where would she hide it?”

“We don’t know she took it,” said Uncle Alec. “That turtle could have escaped.”

“The animal is a hundred years old, Chief, and he’d been living with Dave for fifty years. Why would he escape?”

Uncle Alec threw up his hands.“I don’t know. I’m just spitballing here.”

Just then, the door slammed open and Gran appeared. She was holding up her phone and glanced around the office.“I’m doing a scene in here,” she announced. “Alec will play the big bully who threatens Harriet with jail time, and Brutus will be the one who gets her off by giving you a kick in the snoot. Okay, let’s do this, folks. Time’s a-wasting!”

“Not okay,” grumbled the Chief. “I’m in the middle of a meeting here, Ma.”

“So cut it short,” she said. “I have a comic to shoot and you’re in the script.”

“What script?”

“The script I wrote,” said Scarlett, now also entering the office, followed by Harriet and Brutus, Harriet tripping in last, and inspecting the office, giving it a skeptical look.

“I think we can do better, Gran,” she said. “This place is grimy and filthy.” She touched her paw to a spot on the floor. “Look, dust,” she said. “We can’t have that.”

“When is the last time you had a cleaner in here, Alec?” asked Gran.

“Can you please go?” said the Chief. “And take those cats with you.”

“No can do,” said Gran. “We’re shooting a scene.”

“What scene? What the hell are you talking about?”

Gran rolled her eyes.“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m in the photo comic business now, and unless you help me out, you won’t get to profit when the millions start rolling in. Or do you want to be a cop all your life? Now get up and let me see if you’re decent.”

In spite of his protestations, Uncle Alec still heeded the voice of his maternal unit and got up.

Gran subjected him to a critical inspection.“I don’t like that shirt. Don’t you have another one? And look at those pants. Also, your hair is a mess.” She turned to Scarlett. “We need to fix his hair, Scarlett. Get a comb.” And before Uncle Alec knew what was happening, Scarlett was combing his few strands of hair, Gran was tucking his shirt into his pants, and he was being prepared for a starring role in Harriet the Cat’s next comic!

“Look here,” he lamented. “I really don’t have time for this.”

“Then you better make time. This is the future of this family, Alec. Or haven’t you read Tollie the Turtle?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “I only read the sports section.”

“Shame on you. Now sit down and look like a police chief.”

Uncle Alec sat down and proceeded to look like himself.

“Harriet, Brutus, you’re on,” said Gran. “Alec, make a grab for Harriet.”

Uncle Alec made as if to grab Harriet, who proceeded to put on a scared face.

“Now you, Brutus. Do your thing.”

So Brutus strode onto the scene, hauled off, and gave Uncle Alec a kick in the snoot!

“Ow!” said Uncle Alec, grabbing the offended appendage.

“Well done,” said Gran. “And… that’s a wrap, you guys.”

“I feel like we should do another take,” said Harriet. “Harriet might be scared, but she’s also defiant. She’s nervous but also confident. Beautiful but at the same time vulnerable.”

“No more takes,” said Gran.

“Oh, all right,” said Harriet, looking resigned yet disappointed.

“How did you like that kick, Gran?” said Brutus.

And then they all walked out, the door closed behind them, and life returned to normal. Except that Uncle Alec was still grabbing his nose where Brutus had kicked it.

“Uncle Alec is a great actor, Max,” said Dooley. “Look at his face. He’s really projecting confusion right now.”

“He’s not projecting confusion, Dooley,” I said. “He is confused.”

“Are you all right, Chief?” asked Chase.

“What just happened?” asked the Chief.

“I think you just got kicked by a cat,” said Odelia with a slight smile.

Uncle Alec now removed his hands from his nose, and said,“If you ever breathe a word about this to anyone, I swear I’ll—”

“We don’t have to breathe a word, Chief,” said Chase cheerfully. “We just have to wait for the photo comic to appear in the newspapers.”

“Newspapers? What newspapers?”

“Gran hopes to publish Harriet the Cat in two thousand five hundred newspapers around the world,” said Odelia.

“Look, Max,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is projecting surprise now. And now he’s projecting anger. Or is it rage? It definitely looks as if he wants to kick someone.”

Chapter 18

Walking out of the police station, Odelia decided to go into the office first, to get some work done, while Chase had stayed in his office, and was going to set up another interview with Veronica, this time to dig a little deeper into the relationship between her son Danny and her husband.

And so we walked in Odelia’s wake until we reached the General Store and found to our surprise that Rudolph had taken up position in front of the store, and was entertaining his brother’s customers with a song. He’d installed a boombox and was regaling us with some heavy metal. But instead of applauding this free entertainment, potential customers gave the wannabe metalhead, and the store, a wide berth.

“If this keeps up Wilbur won’t have a customer left!” Kingman said over the noise of the wailing guitars and Rudolph’s shrieks. “Just look at him. He’s chasing everyone away!”

“Maybe he’ll attract a new clientele!” I returned, also raising my voice over the din.

An elderly lady, who’d intended to walk into the store, but saw the big and hulking Rudolph, changed her mind and kept on walking, presumably to grace some other store with her patronage.

“We need to get rid of this guy,” said Kingman, “before he destroys us all!”

And as I glanced to Rudolph, then beyond him and across the street, I suddenly saw that Waldo McLoughlin, the banker we met the day before, was talking animatedly with a man who also looked familiar.

“Isn’t that Dave James’s inker?” asked Dooley, who’d followed my gaze.

“Heiko Palace, yes. I wonder what they have to discuss,” I said.

I now remembered that the day before Heiko had phoned Waldo while we were in his office, and had then shown up in person.

And as both men started to walk away, with Waldo nervously glancing around himself, I decided to follow them and see what was going on.

“See you later, Kingman,” I said. “Dooley, let’s go.”

“But, Max!” said Kingman. “You need to help me get rid of this clown!”

I held up my tail in response, and then we were tailing Waldo and Heiko as they put some pep in their step, and were now walking in the direction of the park. It didn’t take us more than ten minutes to arrive there, and as they took a seat on a park bench, Waldo still glancing around anxiously, Dooley and I took up position underneath the bench, and settled in for a listen.

“You can’t keep showing up like this,” said Waldo. “People will notice.”

“You should have thought of that before you started skimming money from the foundation, Waldo,” said Heiko. “I want my cut, and I’m going to see to it that you pay.”

“Look, Dave is dead, and the police are breathing down my neck, and soon the heirs will start looking at the foundation, so now is not the time to give me grief, Heiko!”

“Okay, so what do you suggest?”

“Back off for now, and then when things settle down, we’ll see how we proceed.”

“Deal. But not until you give me what I’m owed. And no excuses this time, buddy.”

Reluctantly Waldo took out his wallet, glanced around again, then extracted a sheaf of banknotes and slipped them to Heiko, who put them in his pocket.

“This isn’t over, Waldo,” said Heiko. “Not by a long shot.”

“Okay, fine. But remember that if you talk, you’re in trouble, too.”

“So we’re in this together. You and me.” And then he got up and quickly walked off.

Moments later, Waldo also got up, and walked away in the opposite direction.

“What was that all about, Max?” asked Dooley.

“That,” I said, “was a business transaction.”

“A business transaction?”

“Yeah, between a blackmailer and a fraudster.”

“Who’s the blackmailer and who’s the fraudster?”

“Looks like Waldo has been stealing money from the foundation, and Heiko found out and has been blackmailing him,” I said thoughtfully.

“We better tell Odelia. Maybe one of them murdered Dave.”

But before we could get up, suddenly who would emerge from the shrubbery but Gran and Scarlett, followed by Harriet and Brutus!

“Did you get all that?” asked Scarlett.

“I sure did,” said Gran, holding up her phone.

“Did you film that, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“Absolutely,” said Gran.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“That’s the beauty. I had no idea! We just happened to be here, filming another photo comic, when suddenly these two bozos turned up. So I figured I’d shoot some background footage for the comic, and suddenly they start yapping about money and acting real suspicious.” She frowned. “Who were they?”

“Heiko Palace and Waldo McLoughlin. And if you show that footage to Chase, he’ll be able to make an arrest.”

“An arrest for what, exactly?”

“For fraud and blackmail. And maybe even murder.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Gran. “Better put all that in the script, Scarlett.”

“Put what in the script?” asked Scarlett, who hadn’t understood what I’d said.

“That banker is a fraud, and the other guy is blackmailing him.”

“Do you want me to kick them?” asked Brutus eagerly.

“Please no more kicking,” said Gran, holding up her hand.

“Sweetie pie, I should be doing the kicking,” said Harriet plaintively. “You’re stealing my thunder.”

“No, I thought about it,” said Brutus, “and we got this all wrong. As I see it now I’m Garfield, see, and you’re Arlene. And it’s always Garfield who kicks Odie, see?”

“But you can’t be Garfield, since Garfield is the star of the comic, and I’m the star.”

“No, but we’re turning it around, sweet puss. We’re making it so Arlene is the star and Garfield is the sidekick. Hollywood is doing it all the time. Gender swapping is all the rage right now, my queen.”

“Oh,” said Harriet. “Okay, I hadn’t thought of it that way. But I guess you’re right.”

“Only I’ll keep on kicking, since that’s my thing, and you just keep on being the star of your own show.”

“Okay,” I told Dooley, “that’s our cue to skedaddle, buddy.”

And so skedaddle we did, but not before reminding Gran to give Chase that footage.

Moments later we arrived at the Gazette offices and walked right in. And as we passed Dan Goory’s office, we heard Odelia’s voice and decided to hop in there and report to her.

“Okay, Dan, so this is the first one,” said Odelia as she placed her phone on the desk of her editor, “and this is the second one. What do you think?”

Dan Goory, who looks like Methuselah, but probably isn’t nearly as old as that Biblical figure, rubbed his long white beard and made dubious noises. “It’s not bad,” he said, “but it’ll depend on the artist. Who’s making the drawings?”

“There won’t be any drawings,” said Odelia. “This is it. This is the cartoon. My grandmother has decided to turn it into a photo comic instead of a regular comic.”

“Your grandmother!” said Dan, waggling his bushy white brows. “I didn’t know your grandmother was an artist.”

“She’s getting there,” said Odelia.

“Mh,” said Dan, sounding skeptical. He studied the work of Gran and Scarlett once more. Then finally he shook his head. “I don’t think so, honey. There’s no market for it.”

“You’d be the first to publish it,” said Odelia. “So effectively you’d create the market.”

“It doesn’t work like that. I’d be the first to publish it, but I’d also be the only one.”

“But people love cats, Dan, and this stuff is pretty funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that funny.”

“Okay, but it’s only the beginning. I’m sure if they keep going they’ll get better at it.”

“I doubt it. Look, if people want to see cats, they just have to go online. YouTube is full of cat videos, and so is Facebook and TikTok. So why pay good money to have a cat cartoon in my paper, huh?”

Odelia shrugged.“I promised my grandma I’d give it a shot, and I did.”

“Yes, honey, you did, and it’s very noble of you to try and boost your grandma’s plans like this, but we both know the old lady is slightly non-compos, and gets the weirdest ideas all the time. Now what’s the story with Dave James and Jayme Ziccardi?”

And as Odelia discussed the case she was working on, and the article she planned to write, Dooley and I decided to retreat to her office and catch up on our sleep. Waldo McLoughlin and Heiko Palace could wait until she was done with her meeting, but our precious naptime couldn’t. Frankly I was bone-tired after having been on the receiving end of Brutus’s acting chops all night, and in this case chops could be taken literally!

Chapter 19

And I’d just fallen into a very nice sleep when the window of Odelia’s office opened and a voice hissed, “Max! Psst, Max!”

And when I opened my eyes, at first I thought I was having a nightmare, for there they were: Gran and Scarlett, with Harriet and Brutus seated on the windowsill, beckoning me over!

“Not again,” I muttered, and closed my eyes, hoping this nightmare would go away!

But the hissing continued, and when I opened my eyes once more, I realized it wasn’t a nightmare but cold, stark reality: Gran was there, and for some reason she wanted to have speech with me!

Next thing I knew she was crawling in through the window, and tiptoeing in my direction.“Do you know Odelia’s password?” she asked.

I stared at her, not comprehending.“Password for what?”

“For her computer, dummy! I want to post one of our comic strips on the Gazette website, and I just know that fool Dan won’t allow it.”

“But you can’t do that!” I protested.

“Oh, just give me the password. I know you have it.”

“I don’t know if…” I began, directing an anxious glance to the door.

“Do it for the family, Max,” said Gran. “Or don’t you want us to be rich?”

“Yeah, Max, don’t you want us to succeed?” asked Harriet.

“What are we doing here, exactly?” asked Scarlett.

“We’re hacking Odelia’s computer and posting Harriet the Cat on the website,” said Gran.

“But isn’t that illegal?” asked Scarlett with a frown.

“It’s a newspaper, Scarlett,” said Gran. “How can it be illegal to post something of common interest on a newspaper? If anything we’re providing a public service.”

It was a very iffy argument, and one I didn’t think would cut wood with Dan, or even with Odelia. But since Gran was staring at me intently, and so were Harriet and Brutus, I finally buckled under the pressure. “It’s her birthday,” I said resignedly.

Gran had to think for a moment, which I thought was ludicrous, then seemed to remember her granddaughter’s birthday, tiptoed over to the computer and typed in the password. “I’m in!” she caroled.

And then she did the kind of thing you usually only see hackers do in the movies: she attached a USB stick to Odelia’s laptop, but presumably instead of extracting a lot of vital information about the nation’s critical infrastructure, proceeded to upload one of her comic strips.

“And… posted!” she said with a look of satisfaction. “Mission accomplished!”

And then she was tiptoeing back to the window, and not a minute too soon, for I already heard Odelia coming down the corridor!

“Max, are you coming?” asked Harriet.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“We’re going over to Dave James’s studio,” Brutus explained. “We’re going to present Harriet the Cat and ask them to work with us and put it in the same newspapers Tollie the Turtle is in. All two thousand five hundred of them.”

“And we need you there, Max, as a member of the Harriet the Cat lineup.”

“Oh, so now I’m a member of the lineup, am I?”

“Yes, you are, Maxie, baby,” said Brutus with a grin. “I mean, who else am I going to squash? You, too, Dooley.”

And so it was with a certain measure of reluctance that we agreed to tag along. And as we hopped down from the windowsill, Odelia entered her office, and I remembered we hadn’t told her about Waldo and Heiko’s meeting yet. But then Gran urged us to get a move on, and so a move on we grudgingly got. That’s what friendship is all about, you see: sometimes you have to make sacrifices to keep your friends happy, even if all they want to do is kick you and squash you and exploit your humiliation to become rich and famous. Then again, I had my doubts about Harriet’s chances of success, so why not humor her?

When we arrived at the Dave James studio, this time we weren’t greeted as respectfully as the day before. But then we’d been there as part of an official police delegation, of course, whereas now we were there to try and sell them something.

We were ushered into the same conference room, and moments later Flint Kutysiak joined us, looking slightly harried and very busy.

“So what’s this about?” he asked. “You have a comic strip you want us to develop?”

“Well, actually we’ve done all the work already,” said Gran. “All you need to do is help us negotiate a deal with the syndicate and get them to publish us in the same papers Tollie the Turtle is in.”

“All two thousand five hundred of them,” Scarlett clarified, lest there be confusion.

Flint stared at the two older ladies for a moment, then a smile spread across his face.“This is a joke, right?”

“No joke,” said Gran. She nodded to Scarlett, who placed a tablet in the center of the table, and showed Flint a couple of the photo comic strips they’d made.

“What’s this?” asked Tollie the Turtle’s lead artist. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s a photo comic,” said Gran. “It’s called Harriet the Cat, and it’s going to be a surefire hit with your audience.”

“But it’s pictures. Pictures of a cat kicking another cat.” Scarlett scrolled to the next comic and Flint leaned in with a frown on his face. “Is that… Chief Lip?”

“Yeah, he’s my son,” said Gran. “So we got him to play a part.”

“But… you’ve got a cat kicking him.” He pointed to the tablet. “A cat is kicking the Chief of Police.”

“Yeah, pretty funny, huh?”

“Just like the Keystone Cops,” said Scarlett.

“Scarlett is the one who writes all the scripts,” said Gran proudly.

“I’m the one who writes all the scripts,” said Scarlett proudly.

“At first she thought she couldn’t do it, but she’s really outdone herself.”

“And Vesta is in charge of the artwork.”

“I tell the cats what to do and I shoot the pictures with my phone.”

“And here are the stars,” said Scarlett, and gestured to the four of us, seated on the floor. “Harriet, Brutus, Max and Dooley.”

“It’s just like Garfield, see,” said Gran. “Only in our strip Arlene is the star and Garfield is the sidekick. And then of course Dooley is Odie.”

“Who I get to squash and kick,” said Brutus happily, and proved this by giving Dooley a kick right then!

“And that big orange one is Max, and he’s the spider,” Gran explained.

“Who I get to squash!” Brutus declared and moved in my direction to show his mettle. Luckily I managed to avoid his squashing tendencies by getting out of the way.

Flint, who’d been staring at us with an incredulous look on his face, now said, “Are you kidding me? You’re actually ripping off Garfield?”

“We’re not ripping off Garfield,” said Gran indignantly. “We’reinspired by Garfield.”

“And also, we don’t do anything as crude as create actual drawings,” said Scarlett.

“No, we’re the cool new thing and we make pictures,” said Gran. “Drawing is so pass?.”

“This is the future, Mr. Cutiesack.”

“The name,” said Flint between gritted teeth, “is Kutysiak, and if you really think that drawing comics is pass?, what the hell are you doing here showing me this crap?!”

“Hey, this is art, buddy boy,” said Gran. “We took something that’s pretty outdated and turned it into something hot and new. And if you can’t see that, you’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think you should call Mr. Cutiesack an idiot, hon,” said Scarlett.

“Look, I don’t know what you expect from me,” said Flint, holding out his hands, palms up. “We’re the Dave James studio, which means we only produce the work of Dave James, which is Tollie the Turtle. We don’t take on board other artists, and we most definitely don’t take on board this… weird concoction of copyright infringement and… ninja cats.”

“Ninja cats,” said Brutus. “Did you hear that, mi amor? He called me a ninja cat.”

“I don’t think it was meant as a compliment, Brutus,” I pointed out.

“So what are you saying, exactly?” asked Gran, narrowing her eyes at the guy.

“I’m saying that I can’t help you,” said Flint, getting up.

“So you really want to hog all those newspapers for your dumb Tollie the Turtle?”

Flint’s expression hardened. It wasn’t the right thing to say, that much was obvious.

“I think you better leave now,” he said, pointing to the door.

With a cold look at the artist, Gran got up.“You’re making a big mistake here, sonny.”

“I’ll take my chances,” said Flint, as he opened the door of the conference room, and gave me and my friends a look of slight distaste. “Also, if you’re going to rip off Garfield, why don’t you take this orange fatty and make him the star?”

I drew myself up to my full height, which I’ll admit isn’t considerable, and said, with as much dignity as I could muster, “I am blorange, sir, not orange.”

“And he’s not fat,” Dooley added. “He just has big bones.”

Arriving back in the reception space, with its display of dozens upon dozens of Tollie the Turtle merchandise items, we saw that a BMW had driven up and parked right next to a similar car. It was one of those electric BMWs that are all the rage right now, only this one was a bright pink, and it parked right next to an identical BMW which was a nice lavender blue. Out stepped Julio Prokop, and pranced up the path toward us. Entering the vestibule, he removed a pair of snazzy sunglasses and seemed to recognize us.

“Oh, it’s the cop cats. So nice to see you again, you guys.”

“Hi, Julio,” I said, and gave him a little wave.

“Do you know this guy?” asked Harriet.

“He’s Flint’s husband. We met him yesterday,” I said.

Flint seemed surprised to see his husband.

“Hey, sweetie,” said Julio as he gave his husband a smacking kiss then dangled a lunch box in front of the man’s nose. It was of course decorated with a Tollie the Turtle cartoon. “You forgot your sandwiches again.”

“Oh, thanks, sweetie,” said Flint. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, but I was in the neighborhood so I just figured…” He gestured to us. “Did the cops come back? I see they brought their cats.”

Flint now took a closer look at me and Dooley.“Oh, those are the same cats.”

“Yes, they are,” said Julio, then gave his husband a light slap on the arm. “You didn’t even recognize them!”

“All cats look the same to me,” said Flint, earning himself a scowl from Harriet.

“Are you also cops?” asked Julio, addressing Gran and Scarlett.

“No. Well, almost,” said Gran, seeing another opening for her business proposal and jumping right in. “In fact you’re looking at the one and only founder and leader of the Hampton Cove Neighborhood Watch.”

“And I’m her second-in-command,” said Scarlett.

“Oh, so you’re probably looking into that murder business, aren’t you?” said Julio.

“Sweetheart, please,” said Flint.

“No, but I thought of something last night, and I think somebody should say it. You have to take a closer look at Danny Tomon, that’s what you should do.”

“Danny Tomon?” asked Gran, who clearly hadn’t been following this particular case.

“Veronica’s son. I’ll just say it right now: that boy is pure evil. He’s like Damien Thorn fromThe Omen, only worse—much, much worse.”

“Julio, now is not the time,” Flint said.

“Now is exactly the time. Do you know what Danny did? He stole Flint’s clothes.”

“Julio!”

“This needs to be said, sweetie. Yes, that’s right. Flint loves to go swimming after work—he’s a great swimmer—no, but it’s true, hon, you are a great swimmer,” he insisted when Flint opened his mouth to protest. “He’s got a swimmer’s body. Show them your shoulders, sweetie. No?Okay, you’ll just have to take my word for it. So one day Danny stole his clothes when Flint was swimming in Lake Mario, and he had to drive home in his underwear. Can you imagine?”

“Did you file a complaint?” asked Gran.

“I’m not even sure it was Danny,” said Flint, clearly embarrassed by Julio’s revelation.

“And I’m sure that it was,” Julio said. “And remember when Danny asked Dave to get rid of you? How he said that having a gay artist on the team was a bad idea, businesswise, since your presence would corrupt kids and put all kinds of bad ideas into their heads?”

“He said that?” asked Scarlett, looking shocked.

“Oh, yes, he did. That’s the kind of person Danny is. And so it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t chop Dave’s head off.”

“Nobody chopped Dave’s head off,” said Flint, rubbing his face.

“Well, he almost chopped it off from what I understand. And that’s Danny for you. He is evil, I’m telling you. Pure, unadulterated evil.”

“Okay, so maybe you should tell the cops,” Scarlett suggested, but then Gran gave her a nudge, and she quickly amended, “But since we’re almost like cops, we’ll handle this, sir, yes, we will.”

“Yes, we will handle it, but only if you promise to take another look at Harriet the Cat,” said Gran, and thrust out that tablet computer again.

Flint reluctantly took it, but it was clear he wasn’t as big a fan of Harriet the Cat as he was of Tollie the Turtle.

“Okay, and now I really must skedaddle,” said Julio, feeling that he’d done his bit for the benefit of the murder investigation, and walked out. “Toodle-oo, sweetie,” he said.

“Toodle-oo,” said Flint, with slightly less affection and exuberance.

And since the atmosphere turned a little awkward after Julio left, we left soon after.

Chapter 20

Gran dropped us off in town just in time for us to meet up with Odelia in front of her office. She looked a little puzzled when she saw us, and I didn’t blame her.

“The weirdest thing happened,” she said after she’d ushered us into her car and taken up position behind the wheel.

“What?” I asked, though of course I already knew the answer.

“Someone posted a cartoon of Harriet the Cat on the website, and since it wasn’t Dan, and it certainly wasn’t me, we’re both wondering how it got there.”

“Oh, Gran posted that cartoon, Odelia,” said Dooley happily.

She turned to face us.“Gran? But how?”

“Max gave her the password for your computer, and then she posted it.”

Odelia’s eyes slowly turned to me. “Max?” she said, with some iron in her voice. “Is that true?”

I lowered my eyes, and there she had her answer.

“Max, but why! Why would you do such a thing?”

“She made me!” I said. “She said, didn’t I want to see our family get rich? And then Harriet asked if I didn’t want her to succeed, and so I caved.”

“I see,” said Odelia, and a grim look came about her mouth. “I think I need to have a word with Gran. And Harriet and Brutus. She really has gone too far this time.”

“How are people responding to the comic?” I asked.

“They’re not. The moment Dan found out, he took it down.”

“Oh,” I said, and then proceeded to tell her first about Waldo and Heiko, and then about our interview with Flint, and Julio’s suggestion that Dave’s stepson was the most likely suspect in the case. I hoped this would take Odelia’s mind off my transgression.

“Thank you for Waldo and Heiko,” said Odelia with a nod. “Gran sent the video she shot to Chase, and both Waldo and Heiko are in custody right now.”

“Have they confessed to Dave’s murder?” I asked eagerly.

“No, they both have a pretty solid alibi. But Waldo has been stealing money from the foundation, and Heiko found out somehow, and has been blackmailing Waldo ever since, demanding large sums of money every month, so he could put his kid through college.” She shook her head. “A nasty business.”

“But unrelated to Dave’s murder, you think?”

“Yeah, looks like it. Anyway, Chase wanted to talk to Veronica, but she’s in New York today, so that won’t be possible, and since he’s busy interviewing Waldo and Heiko, it’ll just be me, I’m afraid. But the good news is that I’ve managed to make an appointment with Danny’s school’s principal, which is where we’re headed now.”

She started the car, and after the third attempt the engine finally emerged from its customary lethargy and coughed to life.

“You really should buy yourself a new car one of these days,” I said.

“Maybe you should tell Dan to raise my salary.”

“Or maybe you’ll get some of the millions Gran will make off her Harriet the Cat cartoons,” said Dooley.

Odelia smiled at this—the first time I’d seen her smile in a little while. “Somehow I doubt whether those millions will ever materialize, Dooley.”

“Oh? But why? Isn’t it a nice cartoon?”

Odelia eased the car away from the curb.“It’s nice enough, I guess, but maybe not what people like to see when they open their newspaper in the morning.”

“You mean it’s not funny enough?”

“If you think cats kicking other cats is funny, then sure. Personally I don’t find that funny, though.”

Dooley smiled.“I didn’t think it was funny either.”

“Me neither,” I admitted.

“Okay, Max, here’s a new rule for you: never, ever,ever give my password to my grandmother ever again, okay?”

“Yes, Odelia,” I said ruefully.

“In fact don’t give my password to anyone. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Odelia,” I said in a subdued fashion. I felt ashamed about what I’d done, and fully blamed myself. I mean, it wasn’t as if Gran had put a knife to my throat. All she’d done was bring a little psychological pressure to bear on me, and I’d caved like a sucker.

“Oh, there’s something else we needed to tell you,” said Dooley, now that I was momentarily struck dumb through the sheer burden of shame.

“And what’s that?”

“Well, Wilbur has an uninvited guest he would like to get rid of but he can’t.” And Dooley proceeded to tell the story of Rudolph making Kingman’s life a living hell.

“Okay, so I’ll need to give that a think,” said Odelia.

“Hey, that’s funny,” said Dooley. “That’s exactly what Max told Kingman yesterday.”

“Great minds think alike, don’t they, buddy?” said Odelia, giving me a smile through the rearview mirror. Immediately I perked up to a great extent.

“I’m so, so sorry, Odelia,” I said, still feeling in a funk.

“That’s all right, Max,” said Odelia. “I know what Gran is like, and also what Harriet and Brutus are like, and I understand how they got to you. So maybe next time just tell them that you don’t know my password, that way they can’t put any pressure on you.”

I thunked myself on the head.“Duh,” I said. “I didn’t think of that!”

We’d arrived at the school where Danny was a pupil, and moments after Odelia had parked her car we were proceeding across the parking lot to the school entrance. A kindly secretary led us to the office of Adolpho Beblo, the school principal. Mr. Beblo turned out to be a man with a hipster beard, and cleanly shaven head. Very modern.

“Mrs. Kingsley,” he said, shaking Odelia’s hand. “I’m a big fan of your articles.”

“Thanks, Mr. Beblo,” she said, taking the offered seat.

“Adolpho, please. So you’re here to talk about Danny?”

“That’s right. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but his stepfather Dave James was murdered two nights ago, and I’m helping the police figure out what happened.”

“And you think that Danny might be involved?” asked the principal with a look of concern.

“Not necessarily. We’re simply trying to get a general picture of Dave James, and Danny certainly was part of the picture.”

“Well, I don’t know if his mother told you this, but there was no love lost between Danny and his stepfather.”

“Yes, we’ve ascertained as much.”

“Danny can be a handful, so it doesn’t surprise me if Dave thought he was a little hard to handle.”

“Hard to handle?”

“Danny has a reputation as something of a bully. In fact only last week a boy was sitting where you are sitting now, and telling me the story of how Danny took his lunch money, and he said he’s not the only one. Other kids are too afraid to come forward.”

“That’s not good,” said Odelia.

“No, like I said: Danny is a handful.”

“Do you think it would be possible for me to talk to Danny? We talked to him briefly yesterday, but I have more questions.”

The principal glanced at his watch.“I’m sure that can be arranged. They’re on a break now, so you can have ten minutes with him if you like.”

“That would be great.”

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll see if I can find him. You can use my office.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“No, it’s fine. It will give you the authority you need to get him to open up—hopefully,” the principal added with a smile, then left to go in search of Danny.

“He sounds like a tough egg,” said Dooley.

“He does indeed,” said Odelia, as she did as the principal had suggested, and took a seat behind the man’s desk. On the desk, plenty of paraphernalia had been placed, and she studied them for a moment, while we waited for Danny to arrive.

“Maybe you should search Danny’s locker,” I now suggested. “If he killed Dave, it’s possible that he put the murder weapon in there.”

“Or Tollie the Turtle,” said Dooley.

“I don’t think Tollie would fit in a locker,” said Odelia, “but great thinking, Max. I’ll ask the principal to open it for me so we can take a look.”

“If he hasn’t disposed of the murder weapon by now,” I said. “Most killers don’t like to hang on to them.”

“No, but if Danny did kill his stepfather, he probably did it in a fit of rage, and in that case he wasn’t thinking and might have had to act fast to hide the weapon. So his locker is a good place to start.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Principal Beblo walked in, accompanied by Danny, who still looked the way he had when we first met him at the house: a bored-looking youngster with blond hair and a handsome face. The only thing that detracted slightly from being a candidate for a boy band was the scar that sliced through his eyebrow and the sneering expression that traveled up his face when he caught sight of Odelia and of Dooley and me.

“Well, look who we have here,” he said. “It’s the cat lady.”

Chapter 21

The principal left, and now it was just us and the kid. For a moment, Odelia and Danny sized each other up like in that scene inThe Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and I had the impression any moment either of them might get out their gun and start blasting away.

Luckily this was Hampton Cove and not the Wild West, and so after a few tense moments, Danny said,“You’re probably here about Dave, huh?”

“Yes, Danny. We’re trying to find out what happened to him.”

“He had his head bashed in, didn’t he? And now you probably think I did it?”

“No, of course not. I just want to know what you think, and if you have any idea who could have done this to your stepfather.”

Danny glanced around, a cocky look on his face. He was practically lying in his chair, legs apart, and looked right at home.“Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you what a great guy I thought Dave was, cause I didn’t. I didn’t like it that he married my mom, and he didn’t like it that the woman he married already had a kid, and so we kinda tolerated each other but that’s as far as it went.”

“Did you live with Dave and your mom?”

“Most of the time, and then every two weeks I get to spend a weekend with my real dad, who’s a lot nicer than Dave, let me tell you.”

“Why did you mom and your dad split up?”

He shrugged.“I guess Mom wanted to live in the lap of luxury—always did. Nagging my dad that he wasn’t making more money, wasn’t more ambitious, that kind of stuff.”

“What does your dad do for a living?”

“He works for Parks& Recreation as a gardener. Maybe not the most glamorous job, but he makes a decent living, and I never had any complaints about money growing up.”

“Except your mom had higher aspirations.”

Danny nodded.“So when she met Dave, she decided to put her hooks in the guy, and he let her. I guess he was looking for a woman like my mom—arm candy, if you know what I mean. To impress people at receptions and parties, that kind of thing.”

“So you’re saying your mom and Dave fulfilled a mutual purpose when they got married.”

“Yeah, like a business deal,” he said as he took a picture frame from the principal’s desk and studied it for a moment.

“So no great love lost between them?”

“Not exactly. Mom gets her kicks elsewhere these days.”

“What do you mean?”

The kid grinned.“I thought you cops were supposed to be smart, but looks like you haven’t figured that one out yet.”

“Figured what out?”

“Mom has been seeing this guy for some time. They spend most weekends together, some evenings, too.”

“And Dave knew about this?”

“Sure he did. Like I said, their marriage was just a business arrangement: money and a wealthy lifestyle for her, some great arm candy for him. Secretly I think Dave was never in love with my mom, but then I guess he’s not around anymore to tell us.”

“Your principal tells me that there have been some complaints about you stealing money from other kids?”

Danny challenged her with a big grin.“Is that so?”

“Yes, and there have been other complaints, too.”

“What complaints?”

“About bullying, and about you asking Dave to get rid of a member of his studio because he’s openly gay and married to another man.”

Danny’s smile fell from his face. “Look, all I said was that this guy Flint once came onto me, but of course nobody believes me when I say stuff like that, Dave least of all.”

“And are you surprised after the kind of behavior you’ve displayed?”

He shrugged and glanced down at his feet.

“So what about the guy your mom is seeing? Do you have a name for me?”

He looked up, and that cocky smile was back in full force.“You won’t believe me when I tell you, and he’ll probably deny it, but it’s true. I actually caught them at it once, out there in the parking lot, in her car. Of course they pretended like nothing was going on, but those steamy windows didn’t lie, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“So who is it?”

He held up the picture frame, which showed Adolpho Beblo with his wife and two kids, and he tapped the bald head of the principal.“This guy right here.”

Chapter 22

Odelia had gone in search of Adolpho Beblo and had found him fraternizing with one of his teachers in the teacher’s room. He seemed reluctant to sever what looked like a very amicable connection with a very pretty young female teacher but finally managed to drag himself away from her cornflower blue eyes and her ready laugh at his jokes and joined us in the cozy little nook where presumably teachers went totake a breather after having left the lion’s cage and gearing up to enter another one.

“Being a teacher must be a lot of fun, Max,” Dooley remarked as we studied a corkboard where dozens upon dozens of pictures had been pinned, depicting the kinds of extracurricular activities staff and pupils engaged in: stage performances of different plays and musicals, trips to such faraway places as the Grand Canyon, New York or even Philadelphia, and of course many soir?es, fundraisers and school raffles to collect money for the school. It all looked very spirited and lively and a lot of fun. Teachers were depicted dressing up in fancy costumes, pasted-on mustaches, dashing army uniforms and I thought I even spotted the principal dressed like a pirate. Ahoy, matey!

“I don’t know, Dooley,” I said. “I think it’s not as easy as it looks to teach a bunch of rowdy kids algebra, math or the basics of grammar.”

“But the fun times, Max—just look at them.”

I looked at them, and thought it did indeed look like a lot of fun to be part of this school’s community.

“And they even get paid to have so much fun,” said Dooley. He glanced over to Odelia, who was discussing her recent interview with Danny. “Maybe Odelia could be a teacher? I’ll bet it’s a lot more fun than being a reporter, or trying to solve all kinds of crime.”

“I have a feeling Odelia likes what she does, Dooley, and I doubt she has an ambition to become a teacher at this stage of her life.”

“She could teach these kids about sleuthing. And she could bring us into the classroom and we could tell them about our adventures.”

“Uh-huh,” I said dubiously, and decided to join the conversation and see if what was being said was of any interest to us. More in particular I was eager to find out what Adolpho had to say about Danny’s claim that the principal was engaged in some kind of illicit affair with his mom.

“Danny said that?” Adolpho asked, looking aghast.

Odelia nodded.“He says the affair has been going on for some time, and he thinks his mom was with you when his stepdad was killed. He says she definitely wasn’t home when he got back from his drive. Which as you can see puts her in a tight spot, since she lied about that.”

“I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Kingsley. Except that it’s ludicrous, of course. Me, having an affair with the mother of a student? That would be highly irregular, not to mention unethical.”

“We need to know, Mr. Beblo. We need to be able to establish where Veronica was two nights ago. And if it’s true that she was with you the night her husband was killed…”

The man wavered, and it was obvious that he was indeed busted. He seemed to realize it, for he lowered his voice and said,“Please don’t tell anyone. If word got out, my career would be over. And my marriage. I have two kids, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“I’ll leave it up to my uncle to decide how to use this information, Mr. Beblo,” said Odelia.

“But you’re a reporter. You’ll write about this in your newspaper.”

“If what you have to tell me is useful to the investigation, I don’t see the need to divulge your private business to my readers, Mr. Beblo. After all, you are an adult, and so is Mrs. James. Though you might want to talk to your wife and tell her what’s going on.”

He bowed his head.“I’m afraid Danny is right, though for the life of me I don’t know how he found out. His mother and I have always been extremely careful.”

“So where were you when Dave James was murdered?”

“Well… there’s a hotel where we like to meet. They rent out rooms but also bungalows, which are located at the back and offer more privacy. One of those bungalows has become the regular spot where we meet.”

“How long has the affair been going on?”

“Maybe a year or so? You see, Veronica, when we first met, struck me not only as a very beautiful and intelligent woman, but also as extremely unhappy in her marriage. The last couple of years she and Dave had grown apart, and had been leading separate lives. And as I got to know her, mainly through many discussions about Danny’s behavior, we grew closer, and then one thing led to another and before we knew what happened we found ourselves having an affair.”

“Does your wife know?”

“God, no.”

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to tell her what’s going on, Mr. Beblo.”

“I know, but I keep putting it off. I always thought this affair was just a temporary thing, a moment of insanity, you know. And that things would inevitably wind down after a while. But it’s been more than a year, and we’ve grown closer instead of apart.”

“And how is the relationship with you wife?”

“Not too good. We’ve been married twenty-five years now, and have two absolutely wonderful kids, but we’ve entered the stage of a marriage where we’re in some kind of a rut, and it’s obvious that she’s not happy, and I’m not happy, but we stick it out, and stay together, partly out ofhabit, partly for the kids.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He shook his head, looking miserable.“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Now that Dave is gone, Veronica is free to remarry,” Odelia pointed out.

“Yes, but do I want that? Does she? Will things still be the same between us when we’re not sneaking around and enjoying the thrill of meeting in secret?” He sighed and gave Odelia a crooked smile. “I’m struggling with this, Mrs. Kingsley, but then I imagine I’m not the only one. In fact I’m probably the kind of walking and talking clich? you must see all the time: a middle-aged man struggling to stay in a marriage that’s over, and still unable to commit to his girlfriend.”

“What does Veronica have to say about this?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since this thing with Dave happened. I imagine she’s pretty busy right now, dealing with the aftermath of this tragedy.”

And as he scribbled down on a piece of paper the name of the hotel where he and Veronica James had engaged in their affair, I wondered why a woman like Veronica, who was always looking for better and greater things, and loved wealth and luxury more than anything, would fall for a school principal, not exactly the hottest and most glamorous job in the world. Then again, maybe she really was in love, which is always a possibility, of course, even with a woman who comes across as some sort of ice queen.

Maybe she liked Adolpho because he was the one guy who could melt her cold heart?

And as we left the school, we happened to pass the playground, and saw how Danny was putting the squeeze on a younger kid, and watched as the younger kid handed Danny some money, in exchange for which Danny returned his sweater to him.

The interaction ended with Danny giving the younger kid a thump against the head, at which point the kid hurried off and Danny casually started counting the money.

“He really is a bully, Odelia,” I said.

“Yes, that certainly is how it looks,” Odelia agreed.

“But is he capable of murder?” asked Dooley, voicing the question that was in all our minds. Odelia had found the principal agreeable to opening Danny’s locker in her presence, but had found nothing of note in there. Some clothes that needed an urgent wash, a musty smell and one scantily-cladlady pinned to the locker door, but no ax.

Chapter 23

We met up with Chase once more, and the four of us headed out to the Giltmore Hotel and Spa, located in a residential area, to find corroboration for Adolpho’s story.

The Giltmore is not merely a hotel but, as the name indicates, also a spa and beauty parlor, and a place where people like to go to be pampered. When you walk out of the hotel, to the back there are several bungalows, which can be rented on a daily but also an hourly basis, and which provide even more privacy than the regular rooms the hotel has to offer. And it was in one of these bungalows that Adolpho said his love life had experienced a renaissance under the influence of Veronica James.

The hotel manager was at first reluctant to divulge his clients’ secrets, but when he was confronted with not one but two police badges, and Chase’s assurance that they would exercise discretion, he loosened up and was even eager to talk. “Oh, yes, they come here all the time,” he said, studying pictures of Veronica and Adolpho on Chase’s phone. “John Gage and Diana Murphy.” When Chase gave him an odd look, he smiled. “From the movieIndecent Proposal. John Gage was the billionaire played by Robert Redford and Diana Murphy the lady, played by Demi Moore, who got a million dollars to be his mistress for one night. I know my classics, detective.”

“I wouldn’t exactly callIndecent Proposal a classic,” Chase grunted.

“Well, I liked it, and so, apparently, did these two.”

“So they’ve been coming here for a while?” asked Odelia.

The manager nodded.“Twice a week, always on Monday and Thursday night, and they always rent the same bungalow. Number 18, right at the back. Very private.” He grinned.

“So can you tell me if they were here on Monday, and at what time?” asked Odelia.

The man consulted his computer.“They were here, all right. In fact I see that a noise complaint was brought against them that evening by the guest renting Bungalow 17.”

“A noise complaint?”

“Yes, a Mrs. Baumgartner had rented the bungalow as part of our Beauty Deluxe Package, and was resting after her steam bath when she heard sounds that greatly disturbed her. She said it sounded as if a woman was being murdered. One of our staff members went out to check and said they were the normal sounds of a woman in the throes of ecstasy. And anyway, when the couple checked out they both looked fine, so obviously Mrs. Baumgartner was mistaken. Then again, the sounds a person produces when in the throes of passion can easily be mistaken for those of a person in distress.” He leaned in a little. “Did you know that there is a fine line between fear and rapture? No? It’s an interesting subject, and one I’ve studied extensively.” When only two blank stares met his eye, he sobered. “Well, as the manager of this fine establishment it is of course important to me to gauge the satisfaction of our guests, and so a certain knowledge of human psychology is always… At any rate, I trust I’ve informed you sufficiently?”

“Absolutely,” said Odelia, and I had the impression he’d informed them a little too well. Sometimes less is more, especially when it comes to the details of human passion as practiced in private bungalows.

“So looks like Veronica is in the clear,” said Chase as we walked back to the car.

“And so is Adolpho,” Odelia chimed in. “So where do we stand now?”

“For my money, and after what you’ve told me about Veronica’s son, he’s my number one suspect. Apart from Jayme, of course, who is still the prime suspect.”

“But I checked Danny’s locker and there was nothing to tie him to the murder.”

“So maybe he put the murder weapon elsewhere,” said Chase as we all got into the car again. “And I think I know exactly where he might have dumped it.” And as he started the car, I was thinking that we just kept hitting dead ends on this case, one after the other. But time was running out for Jayme, and if we couldn’t find another suspect and tie them to the case, soon she’d go down for the brutal murder and her life would effectively be over.

Chapter 24

The police activity in and around the house of Eddie Tomon was extensive, and most people would have felt extremely annoyed, and might even have lodged a formal protest of having their privacy invaded like this. But Eddie, who was Danny’s real dad and Veronica’s first husband, didn’t seem to mind one bit. On the contrary, as he stood talking to Chase and Odelia he actually seemed to revel in the attention, and was chatting away as if they were old friends he hadn’t seen in ages.

“Some people like to be part of a police inquiry,” I told Dooley as a possible explanation for this anomaly.

“He does seem to enjoy all the attention,” my friend agreed.

“So when was the last time Danny was here?” asked Chase.

“Oh, must have been… two weeks ago? He usually spends the weekends with me, every other week, but since he’s a big boy now, Veronica and I have decided not to be too strict about the arrangement and to let Danny decide what he wants to do.” He gave Chase a grin. “Kids his age prefer to hang out with their friends on the weekend, not with their old man.”

“Was he here on Monday?”

“No, like I said, he only spends his weekends here—never a weeknight.”

“Have you heard about what happened to Dave James?” asked Odelia.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Eddie as he watched a cop bring out a box of something, show it to Chase, then disappear into the house again. “Poor Dave. I liked the guy, I really did. When he met Veronica our marriage had already run its course, so it wasn’t as if he stole her from me or anything.It all happened naturally, you know. We’d been on the verge of divorce anyway, and so when she told me she met Dave James—the Dave James—in fact I remember asking her if she could introduce us, and when she felt that was a little awkward, I asked if she could at least get the guy’s autograph. And she did! I’ve put it on my living room wall. Big original cartoon of Tollie the Turtle, drawn and signed by Dave himself. Not by one of his assistants—cause I know guys like him like to leave the drawing to their minions. But I insisted he make the effort to create an original for me.” He mused, “Guess it’ll be worth a pretty penny, especially now that he’s dead. Dead artists always fetch a better price than living ones—just look at Van Gogh. When he was still alive he couldn’t give his stuff away for free, and now they’re paying millions for his paintings.”

“So do you have any idea who could have killed him?” asked Chase, quick to put in a question while Eddie paused to take a breath.

“Well, now, it’s interesting you should ask, cause I do have an idea, yeah. And you already got her in custody, which is why I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“You’re referring to Jayme Ziccardi?”

Eddie nodded. He was a tall man, and once upon a time had been a handsome man. Now his hair had thinned and his face was lined, but all in all he looked like a nice enough person, which made me wonder how a man like him could have spawned a son like Danny. Then again, kids have their own personality, and it doesn’t always come from the parents.

“Veronica told me all about it. How she discovered that Dave had made a new will, cutting her out of his inheritance, and how he was planning to give it all away to some girl he met. She figured he was probably having an affair with her, which didn’t surprise me. Dave was a great artist, but hewas also just a guy, and guys his age sometimes are old fools. So he’d fallen for this girl and was planning to divorce Veronica and marry her.”

“Jayme is only seventeen, Eddie,” Odelia pointed out. “Don’t you think she’s a little young to have an affair with a seventy-two-year-old man?”

Eddie shrugged.“So maybe it was one of those platonic things. You know, maybe she was his muse. Artists are weird sometimes, Mrs. Kingsley. As if the regular rules of society don’t apply to them. But anyway, Veronica planned to fight the new will, and said she was prepared to have Dave declared insane if that’s what it took. So I guess the girl found out, and figured she needed to head Veronica off, and get rid of Dave before the old will was restored, in which case everything went to Veronica in the event of Dave’s death.”

“So you think Jayme did it for the inheritance?” said Chase.

“Of course she did. Do you know how much Dave is worth? Must be millions, maybe hundreds of millions. That man built himself an empire, him and his stupid turtle.”

“You have a painting of that stupid turtle on your wall,” Odelia reminded him.

“And so I have, and I’ll admit he did a nice job, but it’s still a weird way to make a living: by drawing turtle cartoons. Then again, the world is a little nuts. I mean, there’s kids that make a fortune right now by playing video games. So why not a turtle, huh?”

“Have you spoken to Danny since Dave died?” Chase wanted to know.

“He called me last night. Said his mom has been behaving a little weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“She’s having an affair with his principal now. No wonder the boy is confused.”

“Danny is confused?”

“Sure. Wouldn’t you be? First your mom marries a pensioner, then she starts an affair with your principal? Danny tells me his principal is married with two kids. Plus: he’s his principal! How does the guy expect Danny to respect him when he’s having an affair with his mom? It’s confusing for an impressionable kid like Danny.”

“Did you know that Danny has been extorting money from kids?” asked Odelia, deciding to disabuse Eddie from this roseate picture of his son.

“So he’s got an entrepreneurial spirit. Good for him.”

“He’s a bully, Eddie,” said Odelia. “All the others kids say so.”

“Big words. My son is just trying to make the best of a difficult situation.” He wagged his finger in Odelia’s face. “Don’t you go making trouble for him, you hear? Danny’s got nothing to do with Dave’s death, and he’s got enough problems as it is without you lot piling on.” Chaseimmediately stepped up to the man and towered over him, and Eddie sheepishly retracted his finger. “You know what I mean,” he murmured.

One of the cops walked out and whispered something into Chase’s ear. Chase then gave Odelia a shake of the head.

“Looks like they haven’t found the murder weapon,” I told Dooley. “Or the turtle.”

“So Danny is innocent?” asked my friend.

“Looks like.”

“So Maybe Jayme did kill Dave?”

I heaved a deep sigh.“I’m starting to think that maybe she did,” I agreed.

“And she looked so nice.”

“Even nice people can be killers, Dooley.”

Odelia and Chase wrapped up their interview with Eddie before it got too contentious, and as we rode back to town, Odelia said,“I think I better call Hester and tell her the bad news.”

Chase nodded grimly.“Unless a miracle happens, looks like Jayme will go down for murder one.”

“I really thought she was innocent.”

“Me, too. Guess you never know.”

I noticed how Dooley was intently staring at me, and finally I said,“What?”

“Can’t you think of something brilliant, Max? You always do.”

“If Jayme is guilty, Dooley, there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do about that.”

“But what if she is innocent, and someone is getting away with murder?”

I shook my head.“I very much doubt that that’s the case. All the other suspects, apart from Danny, have alibis, and so far we haven’t found anything to conclusively tie him to the murder. And let’s not forget that Jayme has the most powerful motive of all: a very large fortune that was coming her way, unless Veronica managed to put a stop to it. And if you look at things from Jayme’s perspective, murdering Dave may have been the only way to vouchsafe what she must have accepted as what was rightfully hers.”

“Money will make people do dumb things,” Dooley said, slumping a little.

“And lots of money will make them do even dumber things.”

Chapter 25

We were back in Odelia’s office, and in front of her, Hester Liffs was seated, pressing a paper tissue to her eyes and looking very unhappy indeed.

“It’s impossible,” said Jayme’s grandmother. “Jayme couldn’t possibly be guilty. I talked to her just now on the phone, and she said she doesn’t understand. She never even met Dave and now she’s supposed to have killed him? It’s all just so surreal.”

“There’s no way she could have known about the inheritance?” asked Odelia.

Hester shook her head decidedly.“Jayme and I have no secrets from each other. If she’d known about that new will she would have told me, I’m absolutely certain of that.”

“Maybe she kept it to herself, in case you wouldn’t approve.”

“And why wouldn’t I approve?”

“Because of your history with Dave?”

“Our history wouldn’t have made me jeopardize Jayme’s future. If Dave had decided she had the talent to follow in his footsteps, I would have been the first to congratulate her and to thank him from the bottom of my heart.”

“So there was no bad blood between you and Dave?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not. It happens, you know, that people lose their memories and forget all about the people they knew and loved. Just recently I read an article about a woman who was in a car accident and forget about her husband and her kids, even though she’d been married for years. It’sawful for the family, and it must be awful for her, but it’s not something you can blame her for. It just happens.” She looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Life deals us blows sometimes, Mrs. Kingsley, but you just learn to roll with the punches and move on. And that’s what I did. For heaven’s sake, it’s been fifty years. If I were still bearing a grudge after all this time I’d be a very unhappy person, wouldn’t you say? No, life has blessed me, and has compensated for the mishaps with moments of joy, like when Jayme came into my life, and then when her parents died it dealt me another blow, but it also gave me the opportunity to raise Jayme as my own. And that’s the balance of life, isn’t it? Sometimes it just knocks you down, and other times it lifts you right up. And that’s why I’m sure that even now, with Jayme, something will happen to make things right again. Because this is an injustice. A big injustice that’s being perpetrated here.”

“I’m sorry,” said Odelia. “I really am. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“I just wish I’d kept Jayme with me Monday night. But dogs need to be walked, and who would have thought that the monster who killed Dave would try to pin the murder on her?”

“So you think the person who killed him put that paper in Dave’s hand?”

“Of course. How else would Jayme’s name have come up in the investigation? She’s the scapegoat. That’s obvious.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then the killer must have known about Dave’s relationship with Jayme.”

“What relationship? I’m telling you, Jayme had no relationship with Dave. Only I did.” She shifted in her seat, and pressed the tissue to her eyes once more. “Besides, if Jayme was the culprit, don’t you think you’d have found that turtle in our house? Or the murder weapon? God knows your people searched long enough. It took me hours to clean up the mess they made.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I know you are.”

The two women were silent for a moment, then finally Hester got up to leave, and shook Odelia’s hand. “I just want to thank you for all that you’ve done.”

“I wish I could have done more. But I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“I know you did your best, and that’s all anyone can ask.”

After Jayme’s grandmother had left, Odelia sat there thinking for a moment, then glanced over to me. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Max. You don’t happen to have an idea, do you?”

“Not really,” I had to admit. “The case seems open and shut.”

She nodded.“She’s a juvenile, so she won’t be tried as an adult. At least there’s that.”

I felt bad for Jayme, and her grandmother, but the case against her was strong. Except that the murder weapon still hadn’t been found. “There was nothing in Eddie’s house?”

“Nothing,” said Odelia as she leaned back and stretched her arms. “Not a thing.”

“So Danny is in the clear?”

“Looks like. Though that kid…” Her face took on a hard look. “If there’s anyone I think might be capable of this, it would definitely be him, not Jayme.”

“We can’t pick and choose our suspects,” I reminded her. “All we can do is follow the evidence wherever it leads.”

“So what will happen now?” asked Dooley.

“Now Hester will need to find a lawyer for Jayme. And if they can’t afford one, they can get a public defender instead. And because she’s still only seventeen Jayme will then be tried as an adolescent offender and her case will appear in Youth Court before a judge. If sentenced she’ll serveher sentence in a special facility for youthful offenders.”

“And in the meantime?”

“She’ll be held in a separate wing of a secure juvenile detention facility to await trial.”

“Let’s hope she’ll be allowed to spend the pretrial period at home with Hester,” I said.

“I doubt it,” said Odelia. “This is murder, Max. Even though she’s a minor, they don’t allow murderers to go home. They’re considered a threat to society.”

“So Jayme will go to an actual jail? But that’s terrible!” said Dooley.

“I know,” said Odelia.

Dooley turned to me.“You have to do something, Max. You have to work that big brain of yours and come up with something.”

“I’ll try, Dooley,” I said.

“For Jayme.”

“For Jayme.”

I didn’t want to give him false hope, but he was looking at me so desperately I didn’t want to dash his last hope either. And so there I found myself, between a rock and hard place: I had no idea how to prove that Jayme didn’t kill her benefactor, and I didn’t want to give up either.

Ugh.

Chapter 26

That evening I wasn’t myself. It was a more subdued version of Max who spent time with his family and friends. My big brain, as Dooley had called it, was working hard, trying to connect up the many elements in this most confounding case, and so far nothing was percolating.

And so when Gran invited Dooley and me to participate in yet another shoot for her comic strip, it was with extreme reluctance that I joined the others and subjected myself to be squashed by Brutus or to be on the receiving end of prickly comments from Harriet.

The location of the shoot was Gran’s own bedroom, and when we entered she’d already closed the curtains.

“What’s the scene?” asked Harriet excitedly.

Scarlett was there as well, of course, playing her part as scriptwriter-slash-script girl, and as she read from the script, telling the others where they needed to be and what they should expect, my mind wandered off again and returned to the case. But no matter from which angle I looked at it, twisting and turning the elements in my head, I simply couldn’t exculpate Jayme.

“Max,” said Gran, and when I didn’t respond the first time, she repeated, “Max! You’re over there.”

Like an automaton I did as I was told, and stood where she told me to stand.

“And now… action!” she said, and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness, and I wondered how she was going to create a comic strip without any light. Then again, I’d already learned not to question Gran’s artistic choices, since it only got the old lady worked up if I did.

And just when my thoughts once more returned to the case, suddenly I experienced a sort of wet sensation against my lips. And when I frowned and wondered what this could possibly be, suddenly Brutus’s voice rang out, “Hey, why are you kissing Max!”

The lights were switched on, and indeed Harriet was right there, kissing me!

When she realized her mistake, she immediately jerked back, which I have to admit stung me to some degree, or at least my frail ego, and said, “Max! Why did you kiss me!”

“I didn’t kiss you,” I said. “I was just standing where Gran told me to stand.”

Gran had been consulting her notes.“Um… I think I made a mistake, you guys. Brutus was supposed to stand where Max is standing, and you, Max, are supposed to stand over there.”

“Max!” said Brutus. “What the heck!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, even though it wasn’t exactly my fault.

And as Scarlett and Gran studied the script once more, and then made us take up our new positions, suddenly I had one of those brainwaves you always hear so much about, but which happen so rarely they’re presumed a mere myth. The lights had been turned off again, but inside my head the light had gone on, so to speak, and was burning brightly!

“I got it!” I cried therefore.

“And I’ll get you if you kiss my girl one more time, Max,” Brutus growled in my ear.

And so I decided to keep my tongue for now, since my position was obviously a precarious one, and I didn’t want to risk Brutus’s ire.

“This isn’t working,” Scarlett finally announced.

“What do you mean?” asked Gran.

“It’s too dark! You won’t be able to see a thing!”

“But that’s exactly the idea. This is a photo comic in the dark.”

“Yeah, but with a regular comic strip at least you can draw eyes and contours, but with a photo strip you won’t be able to see a darn thing.”

“Mh,” said Gran. “I guess you’re right. So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest that we do the shoot over again, only this time we keep the lights on.”

“But the joke is about the fact that it’s dark!”

Twin sighs from the creative department told me that creating a photo comic isn’t as easy as it sounds. But since I had other, more important things to do right then, I decided to take advantage of the darkness to sneak out and go and tell my human that I might have found a solution for Jayme’s predicament.

Somehow I had the impression that a girl who’s on the verge of going to prison is just a tad more important than a silly photo comic.

And also: I keenly felt that creating some distance between myself and Brutus was a healthy thing to do!

Chapter 27

The living room of Flint Kutysiak and his husband Julio was starting to feel familiar, since it wasn’t the first time that we’d been there, but my main focus was another part of the house, and so while Chase and Odelia sat down with Flint and Julio, Dooley and I snuck off in search of something else. Or, more precisely, someone else. And we hadn’t been searching long before we hit the jackpot.

“We should have done this the first time we came,” I told Dooley when we both picked up a very peculiar smell and let our noses be our guides. Up the stairs we went, and into what looked like a home studio Flint had set up, and where presumably part of his production for Tollie the Turtle was done.

But since this wasn’t the source of the smell, we moved into the next room, which had originally been a spare bedroom from the looks of things, and had now been turned into the new home of… a very large turtle, who was sleeping peacefully when we walked in.

“Is that…” Dooley whispered.

“Tollie the Turtle,” I said, relieved that my hunch had played out.

The turtle lifted his head when he became aware of our presence, and glanced in our direction with rheumy eyes. He was about three feet long and two feet wide, so a pretty large pet to take into your home, but Flint and Julio had made the necessary accommodations.

“And who are you?” asked the turtle, in a not unfriendly tone.

“My name is Max,” I said. “And this is Dooley.”

“And we’ve come to save you, Tollie,” said Dooley eagerly.

“Save me? Save me from what?” asked the turtle in a croaky voice.

“Save you from the people who kidnapped you,” I said.

“I was kidnapped?”

“Yes, you were.”

“Well, that explains things. I was wondering why I wasn’t in my usual environment anymore.” He frowned. “You know what I miss the most? My backyard. Flint is nice, and he feeds me grass, but it hasn’t been the same.”

“You’ve been cooped up in here all this time?” I asked.

“Pretty much. They open a window from time to time, but I’d much rather go outside, of course.” He gave us a smile. “Dave is the best. He takes good care of me. We go back a long time, you know. Did you know I first met Dave fifty years ago? I still remember the day. This was back on the island. And then of course he brought me here to live with him.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Dave is no longer with us, Tollie,” I said.

“I know,” said Tollie. “I could feel it in my bones.”

“I didn’t know turtles had bones,” said Dooley.

“Of course we do. What do you think keeps all of those organs in place? Jelly?”

“I watch the Discovery Channel all the time,” said Dooley, “but I guess I missed the episode about turtles.”

“So what’s going to happen to me?” asked the centenarian.

“I don’t know, Tollie, but I can assure you that you will be taken care of. In fact there are so many people who love and adore you that they’ll be only too happy to give you anything that your heart desires.”

“My old heart doesn’t desire much. Just to go home, and lie in my patch of backyard.”

“I think we’ll be able to make that happen,” I said. Then I shared a look with Dooley, and we both returned to the living room, to give Odelia the sign we’d agreed upon.

She caught it, and said,“Now then, Julio, you said that you think Danny may have been involved in Dave’s murder.”

“That’s right,” said Julio, who was sitting primly on the couch, his fingers intertwined with his husband’s.

“Do you have concrete evidence to make such a claim?”

Julio took a quick look at his husband, and even though Flint almost imperceptibly shook his head, he decided to forge ahead.“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, detectives.”

“Julio, what are you doing?” Flint whispered.

“It’s all right, sweetie,” said Julio, patting the artist’s hand. “I don’t want Jayme to go to jail while that rotten kid gets off scot-free. We need to step up now, and rally round.”

“But—”

“I’ll tell you how I know that Danny killed his stepfather. The day that Dave was killed, Flint came home, the poor thing, dressed in just his underwear and his socks.”

“What do you mean?” asked Odelia.

“Danny had stolen his clothes! He’d gone swimming in Lake Mario, like he often does, and when he swam back to shore he saw that that rotten kid had taken all his clothes!”

“But how do you know it was Danny?” asked Chase.

Julio rolled his eyes.“Isn’t it obvious? That kid hates us. He wanted Dave to fire Flint because a gay artist is a bad influence, so obviously he followed him and decided to play a nasty little trick on him and so he took his clothes. It just goes to show the kind of kid he is. So is it any wonder that he killed hisstepfather? They probably got into some kind of argument, maybe over Dave’s refusal to fire Flint, and so the kid got mad and then he got even by picking up the first thing he saw and hitting Dave over the head with it.”

“But I thought you said Flint was here with you when it happened?”

“That was just a little white lie I told you,” said Julio, waving his hands expressively. “I signed that summons. Obviously the process server didn’t know which one of us was which, and so when I told him that I was Flint, he simply handed me that document.”

Flint, whose face had taken on a slighter pale complexion, sat stiff as a board now.

“So Flint wasn’t here Monday evening?” asked Odelia.

“No, like I said, he was out swimming, and that rotten kid stole his clothes. Now if you want more proof of the depravity of that young man’s mind, you can talk to others who have been on the receiving end of his evilness, and you’ll have all the proof you need.”

“Flint? What do you have to say to that?” asked Chase.

Flint, who’d given a striking impression of a statue, now suddenly sprang to life, and before anyone could stop him, jumped up from that couch and was bolting for the door!

“Sweetie?” said Julio. “Where are you going? Your bowels giving you trouble again?”

But Chase and Odelia weren’t born yesterday, and so they also got up and flew to the door, to try and stop the man.

Once outside, we saw that Flint had stepped into one of the two matching electric BMWs. And by the time we were in Chase’s squad car, he was already at the end of the driveway and on the street, moving off at a decent clip.

“Punch it, Chase,” said Odelia. “We can’t let him get away.”

“No worries, babe,” said Chase. “Electric cars may be the future, but right now diesel still rules.” And to show us what he meant, he punched down on the accelerator, making the engine roar like a beast. It didn’t take long for his heavy-duty pickup to overtake the lavender BMW, and when we did, the errant artist jumped from the car and was running away in the direction of who knows where—possibly Lake Mario to have another swim.

Chase immediately got out and ran after him, and it didn’t take more than thirty seconds for the burly cop to grab the scrawny artist by the neck and nip his escape attempt in the bud before it ever got going.

“Flint Kutysiak,” he said, taking out his handcuffs, “I’m arresting you for the murder of Dave James.”

“It was an accident!” the artist wailed. “I didn’t mean to kill him!”

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“He said he’d chosen a different successor, and I was dismissed! He said I’d been bragging in several interviews how I was now the lead artist of the studio, and how I drew all of the Tollie the Turtle comics and had been drawing them for the past ten years, and he didn’t like that. He saidI was getting too big for my britches and that there was only one Tollie the Turtle lead artist and that was him. That he wasn’t dead yet, and that if I thought I could muscle him out I had another thing coming. I was just a young upstart and he was done with me. Done! After fifteen years of hardwork he was kicking me out!”

“Anything you say can be used—”

“So I told him he couldn’t do that, and he said, watch me! And suddenly I got so angry. So very, very angry! It was just so unfair what he did! When he invited me to drop by the house I figured he wanted to talk Tollie. But instead he told me he found an amazingly talented girl named Jayme and she was going to be his successor. And then he fired me! So I picked up the first thing I saw, an ax he used for a Tollie gag, and took a swing at him. It hit him right on the head. I immediately regretted it, but what could I do? He was dead!”

Chase escorted him to his car now, and put him in the backseat, then drove off.

“And how are we supposed to get home?” asked Dooley as Julio came running up to us.

“What happened?” he asked. “Where is Flint?”

“I’m afraid your husband has been arrested for the murder of Dave James,” said Odelia, causing Julio to sling a hand to his mouth in utter consternation.

“No way!”

“He has confessed,” Odelia added.

“No. No!”

“Didn’t it strike you as odd when Flint came home on Monday with Tollie the Turtle?”

“He said that when he found out that Dave had been murdered, he decided that someone had to take care of that turtle since Veronica probably would turn him into turtle soup. And I may not be very fond of turtles, but we couldn’t let that happen to him.”

“So what was the plan: to have him stay with you indefinitely?”

Julio nodded.“Also, Flint has long felt that Dave had a sort of mystical connection with that turtle. On some of these islands in the South Pacific turtles are revered, you know. People ascribe special powers to the animals. So when Dave came home with Tollie and then became the world’s most popular comic artist, Flint felt that he must have derived his creative powers from Tollie. He told me that now that Dave was dead, Tollie’s powers were going to be transferred to him, and that he was going to follow in Dave’s footsteps.”

“You mean Flint considered Tollie like a talisman?”

Julio shrugged.“Something like that.” He stared at the blue BMW. “Looks like Flint forgot to plug in his car again. I’ve told him a million times you need to charge that battery every single night.”

“So that’s why we caught up with him so fast,” said Odelia with a smile.

“So what’s going to happen now?”

“Now Flint is going to be charged with Dave’s murder.”

Julio raised his eyes heavenward.“Just my rotten luck to marry an ax murderer!”

Epilogue

“So how did you figure it out, Max?” asked Harriet.

The four of us were seated on the porch swing, which luckily for us wasn’t swinging, since I tend to get seasick when it does. Our humans were all seated at the big table in the backyard while Tex manned the grill, so food was aplenty and conversation even more.

“Well, it first hit me when you kissed me,” I said.

Brutus gave me an angry look at this.“I haven’t forgiven you yet, Max. So don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“You can’t blame Max, sparky star,” said Harriet. “It was the darkness.”

“That’s no excuse,” Brutus grumbled.

“So the kiss did it?” asked Dooley, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Yes, that Harriet could mistake me for Brutus so easily. It reminded me of last Saturday, when Bambi Wiggins delivered a letter for Chase, but allowed Odelia to sign for it. You have to remember that Flint’s alibi rested on that summons and on that process server. Chase had interviewed that server, and he had confirmed that he’d personally delivered a letter to Flint Kutysiak. Of course Flint and Julio are very similar in appearance, and so when Julio signed in Flint’s name, the server didn’t bother to check. And why would he? He arrives at Flint’s house, and finds a man there who says he’s Flint. So of course he gives him that summons. As it later turned out, a stroke of luck for Flint.”

“So why did Julio lie to the police?” asked Harriet.

“Because Flint had told him to. Flint said he’d gone swimming, and some kids had stolen his clothes, and he felt too embarrassed to admit to the police that that was what had happened, so instead he told Julio to tell the police he was home all evening.”

“And Julio didn’t think it strange that Flint arrived home with a turtle in his car?”

“Flint said he brought Tollie home to save him from being turned into turtle soup by Veronica, who admittedly has never liked the animal, and since Julio didn’t see any reason to doubt his husband, he never thought anything about it.”

“But he could have told us,” said Dooley. “He could have said something about Tollie having found a new home with them. He knew the police were looking for that turtle.”

“Flint had told him that if the police got their hands on Tollie, they’d be forced to return him to Veronica, his rightful owner now that Dave was gone, and then the turtle soup scenario would be the most probable future for Tollie, and since Julio didn’t want the old turtle to die, he kept his mouth shut and did as Flint instructed him.”

“So a kiss and Bambi Wiggins told you what happened?” said Harriet. “That’s amazing.”

“Also the fact that I found it very hard to believe that Jayme was guilty.”

“That big, beautiful brain of yours, Max,” said Dooley, rubbing my head affectionately. “That big, beautiful brain has done it again!”

“Of course Max has a big brain,” said Brutus. “He’s got an unnaturally big head. If my head was as big as his, I’d have a big brain, too.”

“Now don’t be nasty, snuggle pooh,” said Harriet. “Max saved a girl’s life, and prevented a miscarriage of justice from taking place, and that’s a good thing.”

Divers had gone looking for the ax, and had found it where Flint had told them it was, along with the blood-spattered clothes he’d worn that day. He’d put everything in a plastic bag, weighed it down with stones and sunk it in the lake. Then he’d driven home and had invented the whole ‘kids stole my clothes’ story to convince his husband. He’d also confessed that he’d put that piece of paper in Dave’s hand, and had scribbled Jayme’s name on it. Since he was practiced in Dave’s handwriting, it wasn’t difficult to imitate it.

All in all, a clever scheme, borne out of necessity and the panic he’d experienced the moment he realized what he’d done. He’d had to think fast, and since he already harbored a great hatred toward Jayme, she’d seemed like the best person to use as his patsy. He’d effectively get rid of the two people who stood in his way: Dave and Dave’s successor.

“I still don’t understand why a man like Dave would leave all his money to a girl he never met,” said Harriet.

“You have to understand that Dave thought he’d live forever, or at least another twenty years or more. He didn’t know he was going to die. But what he definitely didn’t want was for his estate to go to Veronica or Veronica’s son. So he decided to change his will now, and cut her off, justin case something did happen to him. And even though he didn’t know Jayme, he knew Hester, and trusted her to do the right thing. And of course he felt that he’d discovered a rare talent in Jayme, and in due course could train her to take over. And he also wanted to protect Tollie, since Veronica had never made a secret of her dislike for the old turtle.”

“What’s going to happen with Tollie now?” asked Dooley.

“Veronica and Danny will move out of the house, Hester and Jayme will move in, and Tollie will have two people taking care of him who will love him just as much as Dave did.”

“He will have to share his house with Woofle.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice he’s happy to make,” I said with a smile.

“In other words,” said Harriet, “all’s well that ends well.”

“So what’s going on with the photo comic?” I asked. I’d noticed how Gran had stopped bugging us for photoshoots, so now I wondered if there was a fly in the ointment.

Harriet’s face sagged. “She quit on us. Said that the stories about working with animals or kids are true: never do it. She has sworn never to work with us again, and has instructed Scarlett to destroy all the scripts and get rid of all the pictures.”

“But why? What happened?”

“Ask Brutus,” said Harriet, giving her mate an unhappy look.

“Okay, so I bit her, but only because it said so in the script!”

“You bit Gran?”

“I did,” said Brutus moodily.

“But why?”

“The script clearly stated that you had tohide behind Gran’s hand, Brutus,” said Harriet. “Notbite Gran’s hand.”

“Can I help it if she doesn’t always pronounce her words too clearly,” Brutus grunted. “I thought she said ‘bite my hand’ and so that’s what I did.”

“But surely you didn’t bite hard,” I said.

“Oh, I bit pretty hard,” said Brutus. “She’d told me just before that my performance was lackluster, and that I needed to make it more believable. So I said I’d do my best.”

“And drew blood,” Harriet said dryly.

“Just a little bit of blood. A trickle.”

I glanced over to where Gran was sitting. She was showing the others her bandaged hand and talking animatedly about the terrible ordeal that had befallen her as a director, and how she understood why Spielberg had never made another shark movie afterJaws.

“She makes it sound as if I’m a shark,” said Brutus unhappily. “It was just a puncture wound. Nothing serious.”

“At least she found herself another job as a director,” said Harriet, “and Scarlett as her screenwriter.”

“What job?” I asked.

“Well,someone suggested to her that there was a fascinating human interest story just begging to be filmed. Wilbur’s brother Rudolph, who wants to winThe Voice. So now they’re filming his journey from a complete unknown to major star. You know, likeA Star is Born, but without Lady Gaga and hopefully without that terrible downer ending.”

“Someone suggested this to her?” asked Dooley? “Who?”

Harriet gave me a nudge.“I think we all know who put that idea into Gran’s head, don’t we?”

“Well, I just figured the only way for Wilbur and Kingman to get rid of Rudolph was to turn that man into a star and get him out of the shop before he completely ruined it by driving all of Wilbur’s customers away.”

“And a great idea it was,” Harriet agreed. “Only problem is, now he’s infesting our home with his presence.”

We all looked at the elephant in the backyard: Rudolph Vickery, as he shoved burger after burger into his mouth, and when he wasn’t scarfing down food, was regaling the rest of the company with stories about his checkered past and his colorful life, or strumming an imaginary guitar and annoying the neighbors with his frankly terrible singing.

Okay, so maybe getting Gran to invite Rudolph to stay with us wasn’t my best idea ever. Then again, even with a brain as big as mine, sometimes you just strike out.

“Roots, bloody roots,” Rudolph grunted now, playing a mean air guitar and banging his head so wildly he almost headbutted Scarlett.

“You need to get rid of him, Max,” said Harriet. “You know that, right?”

I sighed deeply.“Yeah, I know. And I will, I promise.”

And I proceeded to project optimism yet concern, cheerfulness yet agitation, confidence yet perturbation.

In other words?

I was stumped.

42. PURRFECT LIFE

Chapter 1

We were all gathered in the living room of the cozy little home we share with Odelia and her husband Chase, enjoying the evening watching television as we often do. Only this evening was special, since it was the first time Chase was to appear on TV.

For this auspicious occasion the whole clan had gathered: Odelia and Chase, of course, but also Odelia’s mom and dad, and her grandmother. Even Uncle Alec was there, with his girlfriend Charlene, and Gran’s friend Scarlett. In other words: we were entertaining a full house, and were lucky to have found ourselves a place right in front of the television, awaiting the big debut. With us I am of course referring to myself, but also to Dooley, my best friend and a Ragamuffin of the noblest kind, Harriet, a white Persian who belongs to Odelia’s mom Marge, and Brutus, that black butch cat who belongs to Chase. Though let’s not split hairs: in the Poole household, nobody actually belongs to anybody. In fact it wouldn’t be unfair to say that we all belong to each other, since we all like to do what we can to further the investigations that have put Odelia on the crime-fighting map in Hampton Cove, the small town on the East Coast we like to call home.

Another reason for the family to celebrate was that they’d finally managed to get rid of their house guest. Following one of my less inspired interventions, a man named Rudolph Vickery had been staying with us. He was Wilbur Vickery’s brother, one of our local shopkeepers, and an aspiring musician, having chosen the heavy metal genre as a potential career path. Unfortunately he didn’t possess a great deal of talent. Still, since he had now decided that to further his musical career he had to be in LA, we had wished him good luck—and in fact I think these good wishes came from the bottom of everyone’s heart, since no one wanted to ever see the man’s face again.

“Popcorn, anyone?” asked Uncle Alec, returning from the kitchen with two big bowls of steaming hot popcorn. “They’re hot and fresh from the oven.”

“You’re making it sound as if we’re going to watch an entire movie with Chase in the lead,” Gran grumbled. “It’s only a short interview, Alec. Blink and you’ll miss it.”

“It’s Chase’s big television premiere, Ma,” said Uncle Alec as he let himself fall down onto the couch next to Charlene and handed her the second bowl.

“Did they make you wear makeup, honey?” asked Marge with a touch of concern in her voice. “I’ve heard that sometimes they put on so much makeup you end up looking completely different. It’s to make sure you don’t look shiny,” she added as an explanation.

“No makeup,” said Chase curtly as he dipped into the bowl of popcorn and sampled one or two kernels before settling back and fiddling with the remote.

“You see, when you’re on TV, all your little skin blemishes are enhanced,” Marge explained to the others, who weren’t really listening. Charlene was checking her smartphone, no doubt making some last-minute important decisions, like whether to plant fuchsias or roses in the municipal flowerbeds—Charlene is the mayor of our town, you see, and always busy-busy-busy. And Scarlett, too, was smiling and tapping on her smartphone, presumably chatting with one of her many male admirers.

“Will you cut that out,” Gran grumbled, taking her friend’s phone away.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” Scarlett protested.

“You’re finished now,” said Gran. “It’s Chase’s big debut. And it doesn’t happen every day that a member of this family is live on television.”

“He won’t be live, Ma,” said Tex. He turned to his son-in-law. “When did you tape this, Chase?”

“This afternoon,” said Chase. “Just after we found Josslyn Aldridge’s body.”

“So soon? But why?” asked Marge, who’s always interested in the minutiae of Chase’s police investigations. Being a librarian, she has an important role to play in the local community, providing fresh gossip to all who visit the library, which is a large contingent on normal days, and even more when a tragic event like a murder has taken place.

“It’s probably a mugging gone wrong,” said Uncle Alec. “And from experience we know that it’s very difficult to solve cases like this, especially when there are no witnesses.”

The woman Uncle Alec was referring to had been found on the beach by one of those people who like to go for a jog first thing in the morning. I’d never want to be seen dead going for a jog, especially that early, but then again I’m a cat. We don’t go in for sports.

Josslyn Aldridge had been found next to a concrete staircase leading down from the boardwalk to the beach. The coroner ascertained that her head had been smashed against that concrete staircase. And since her purse was missing, and later found nearby, minus the woman’s wallet, it stood to reason that the police was now looking for the mugger.

“Was she local?” asked Charlene, her business apparently concluded.

“A tourist,” said Chase, who was heading up the investigation. “I talked to her friend, and they came down here for a one-week vacation, arriving in town two days ago.”

“Oh, that’s so sad,” said Marge. “Where was she from?”

“Middletown, Ohio.”

“And you have no idea who did this to her?” asked Tex with a frown. He seemed anxious to see his tax dollars not go to waste on fruitless police investigations.

“No, her friend told us that she happened to bump into an old work colleague that morning, and had arranged to have a drink, to talk about old times, but when she woke up this morning, and her friend’s bed had not been slept in, she sounded the alarm.”

“Do you think this colleague might have something to do with it?” asked Odelia.

“I doubt it,” said Chase. “Like the Chief said, it’s probably a mugging gone wrong. She must have met up with this colleague, then taken a stroll along the boardwalk when she ran afoul of a mugger who forced her down those steps where he proceeded to grab her purse. She must have put up a fight, and that’s when he gave her a shove, her head hit the concrete steps, and when the mugger saw that she was dead, he panicked and ran off.”

“Sad business,” said Marge, shaking her head.

“And bad for tourism,” Charlene added with a grim look on her face. “I hope you catch the bastard quickly, Alec.”

“Oh, we will,” Uncle Alec assured her.

“Ooh! It’s about to start, you guys!” said Scarlett, pointing with one of her long-nailed fingers to the screen, where a picture of the unfortunate tourist had appeared, while the newscaster reiterated the events as Chase had already outlined them. Josslyn Aldridge was in her early sixties, with gray curly hair, and a sort of startled look on her face.

“Where did they get that horrible picture?” Marge muttered.

“We got it from her friend,” said Chase. “It was the only one she could give us on such short notice.”

And then the moment had come: Chase was on TV, being interviewed by a peppy young blonde, who seemed fresh out of school, holding a microphone under his nose.

“You were right, Chase, honey,” said Marge. “They didn’t use makeup.”

“Look how shiny his face is,” said Gran. “It looks like an ice skating rink.”

“Gran is right, Max,” said Dooley. “He does look very shiny.”

“It was a warm day today, Dooley,” I said. “And when humans sweat, they shine.”

“I’m not sure makeup would have helped,” said Scarlett. “It might have made things worse.”

“Will you shut up,” Uncle Alec growled. “You’re missing Chase’s big moment.”

“So we’d like to ask that the colleague Josslyn had arranged to meet comes forward as soon as possible and gets in touch with us,” Chase was saying on TV, looking straight into the camera now. “So we can reconstruct the last hours of her life, and hopefully catch the person responsible for this terrible crime.”

“Don’t you have a name for this colleague?” asked Marge.

Chase shook his head.“Josslyn never said, and Sadie didn’t think it was important to ask.”

“Sadie?”

“Josslyn’s friend.”

“Oh, right,” said Marge.

“I think he looks good on screen,” said Scarlett. “Don’t you think he looks good on screen, Vesta?”

“His head looks big,” said Gran.

“That’s because he’s on camera. They say the camera adds ten pounds.”

“Well I think he looks great,” said Odelia, patting her hubby on the arm. “In fact I think he looks amazing and he’s doing a great job.”

“Thanks, babe,” Chase grunted.

“Why is he pulling at his nose, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Probably because he’s nervous,” said Brutus. “People who aren’t used to being interviewed on camera always get nervous, and start doing stuff like pulling their noses or pulling their ears, or sweating and looking shiny.”

We watched as Chase first pulled his nose, then pulled his ear, then pulled his nose again. All while looking very shiny indeed.

“He looks very shifty,” said Harriet. “If I didn’t know any better I would have thought he was the mugger.”

“Yeah, well, the man is a cop, smoochie poo,” said Brutus. “Not a professional actor.”

“That’s true,” Harriet admitted.

“He just needs a little more training. I’ll bet that if he does another dozen of these interviews he’ll be a real pro.”

“Let’s hope not,” I said, “because a dozen interviews also means a dozen crimes for which they need to ask the public for its assistance.”

And then the show was over. Almost before it had begun. Gran was right. Blink and you missed it.

“That’s it?” asked Scarlett. “Isn’t there any more?”

“Nope, that’s it,” said Chase, heaving a sigh of relief. In spite of his stoic appearance clearly the burly cop had been nervous about his first television appearance.

“Are you sure?” said Marge. “Maybe there will be more after the commercial break?”

“They said they’ll repeat the appeal in their late-night newsflash, and again tomorrow morning.”

“Well, let’s hope we get some good tips from that,” said Uncle Alec.

“And let’s hope this colleague has been watching,” said Odelia, “and will come forward.”

“It’s going to be a terrible shock for the man,” said Marge, “when he finds out that his colleague was murdered so soon after they met.”

“Didn’t Josslyn say anything about this colleague?” asked Tex.

“Only that she hadn’t seen him in years, and was looking forward to catching up.”

Gran now took control of the remote, and switched channels until she found one where they were playing Titanic, one of her favorite movies. The howls of protest rising up from her fellow family members quickly made her change her mind about settling in.

“Oh, all right,” she grumbled, relinquishing the remote to lady of the manor Odelia. “It’s not as if I don’t know how it ends.”

Odelia returned to the local TV station, maybe in hopes of catching some more snippets from her hubby’s big interview, and for the rest of the evening, the conversation shot back and forth about a whole range of topics, hopscotching from one subject to another, as is usually the case when the members of Odelia’s family get together of an evening.

“One thing’s for sure,” said Harriet as she placed her head on her front paws.

“What’s that?” asked Brutus.

“Chase will catch this person. He’s very good at catching the bad guys.”

“It’s not so much about catching the guy,” Gran now interjected, inserting herself into our conversation and abandoning the human conversation for a moment. “It’s about prevention, isn’t it? I mean, if only the neighborhood watch had been out in full force last night, this crime could easily have been prevented.”

The others had picked up on Gran’s line of thought, and Scarlett said, “You’re absolutely right, Vesta. It’s simply not enough that you and me patrol our streets every night. There should be more people joining us. If only the watch consisted of a dozen or two dozen citizens, this kind of crime would be completely eradicated, and this poor woman’s life would have been saved.”

“You know, I usually don’t agree with you,” said Tex, “but for once I actually do.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “Keeping the streets safe and preventing crime is a job for the police, not for regular people or, God forbid, a couple of pensioners.”

“So why don’t you patrol those streets?” asked Gran. “Why weren’t your officers patrolling that boardwalk last night? And saving Josslyn Aldridge’s life?”

“We simply don’t have the manpower to put a cop on every single street corner every single minute of every single day,” said Uncle Alec.

Gran now turned her ire on Charlene, who, as mayor of our fair town, controls the police budget.“You have to invest more in our police force, Charlene,” said the old lady. “You have to recruit and train more cops. It is what we pay taxes for, after all.”

“That’s fine by me,” said Charlene. “If you’re prepared to pay more tax, then we’ll put more cops on the streets. But as long as that’s not the case, I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“I have an idea,” said Harriet, who’d been listening to the conversation closely. The attention of Gran, Marge and Odelia turned to her—not coincidentally they were also the only three people who speak our language.

“What’s your idea, Harriet?” asked Odelia with an indulgent smile.

“So putting cops on the streets is expensive, right?”

“Oh, it is,” said Odelia. “They all need to receive a decent salary.”

“And asking people to give up their leisure time to patrol the streets is a hard ask.”

“Of course,” said Marge. “People work all day, they have families to take care of, and what little time they have left they like to spend relaxing with their loved ones.”

“There is a solution,” said Harriet, and when three pairs of human eyes and three pairs of feline eyes all turned to her, she said, a sort of triumphant note in her voice: “Cats!”

“Cats?” asked Marge with a frown. “What do you mean, Harriet, sweetie?”

“So there’s always plenty of cats on the streets at night, or at any other time, right?”

“Right,” said Gran dubiously.

“Cats roam the streets at all hours of the day or night, and cover all of Hampton Cove. In fact that’s the reason we always manage to give Odelia the kinds of tips and exclusive stories that she fills her newspaper with. So why don’t we ask all the cats of Hampton Cove to form one big neighborhood watch?”

Odelia laughed.“But honey, we can’t possibly expect the cats of Hampton Cove to put themselves in harm’s way, just to protect the community?”

“And why not?” Harriet insisted. “Nearly all of the cats belong to somebody. And I’m sure they’d be more than happy to make sure those somebodies can feel safe in the knowledge that no one will snatch their purses and knock them dead.”

Odelia, Marge and Gran now shared a look, and I could tell that Harriet’s impassioned pitch had struck a chord.

“You know, Harriet?” said Odelia finally. “On second thought your idea is not so bad.”

“No, and that’s because it’s great,” said Harriet, tilting her chin a little. “And so if you make me the leader of the Neighborhood Cat Watch, I’ll make sure that Hampton Cove will be the safest town on the East Coast. In fact it just might become the safest town in the whole country, and a beacon in the annals of crime fighting. And when other towns start following in our pawsteps, we’ll start a revolution in crime prevention—a revolution of which we can be the proud leaders.”

Gran was nodding, and so were Odelia and Marge.

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Chase, one of those rare humans who doesn’t speak our language.

“Oh, nothing,” Gran hastened to say.

“Why did Gran just say your idea is nothing?” asked Dooley, intrigued.

“I think she first wants to see if it’s feasible,” said Harriet, studying the old lady closely. “And then if it works, she can take all the credit.”

“And if it fails?” asked Brutus.

“Well, since nobody knows about it except us, if it fails no one will know.”

“Gran should have gone into politics,” said Dooley.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “She certainly has the cunning for it.”

Gran now gave Harriet a wink.“Let’s talk more soon,” she whispered.

Chapter 2

The following morning, the four of us were enjoying a well-deserved nap in Odelia’s office, while our human slaved away at her computer, typing up an article on the murdered woman, when all of a sudden Dan strode in, and took a seat at his star reporter’s desk.

Odelia looked up with a frown.“Do you think I should talk to the friend? Get some background on Josslyn Aldridge?”

“Before you do that, I just got off the phone and I think I have an even juicier story for you, my dear.”

“Oh?” said Odelia, and withdrew her hands from the keyboard. “What story?”

“How well do you know Rosa Bond?”

“Tilton Bond’s wife? I’ve bumped into her once or twice at social events. Why?”

“It was Rosa who phoned me, and asked if she could enlist our services.”

“Our services?”

Dan grinned.“And when I say ‘our services’ of course I mean your services. You’re really starting to make a name for yourself as an investigative reporter.”

“Rosa Bond wants to hire me?”

“That’s what I understood. She didn’t want to talk on the phone, but I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it when she arrives…” He checked his watch. “In about ten minutes.”

“Rosa Bond is coming here?”

Dan nodded and got up.“I told her you’d be more than happy to place yourself at her disposal.” He gave her a smile and tapped his nose. “I have a hunch this might prove to be one heck of a story.” Just then, the door to the outer office opened and closed. The aged editor’s pristinely white beard waggled withexcitement. “I think that might be the lady already.” He took a slight bow. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“I thank you,” said Dan, and quickly went to greet Mrs. Bond, or whoever it might be.

Moments later, the new arrival was ushered into Odelia’s office by Dan, who quickly retreated, but not before saying, “I’ll leave you in Odelia’s capable hands, Mrs. Bond.”

“Thanks, Mr. Goory,” said the lady, and took a seat in front of Odelia.

She was a smallish woman, with short ash-blond hair and a sort of squarish face. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but she had one of those kind faces, which gave the impression she was a good person at heart, and kindness always lends a certain beauty to a person, I’ve always thought, and this certainly was the case with Mrs. Bond.

“How old do you think she is, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Forty-something?” I said. “It’s hard to say, Dooley.”

“It’s always hard to say with humans,” my friend mused. “And I wonder why that is.”

“It’s because humans try to mask their real age,” said Harriet. “They always want to look younger than they actually are. And so they dye their hair and apply all kinds of creams to their faces, or even have operations like facelifts or nips and tucks.”

“Facelifts?” asked Dooley. “Why would you want to have your face lifted?”

“It’s actually not the entire face that’s lifted, Dooley,” I said. “Only the parts that hang a little, like the jawline or the corners of the mouth.”

“Oh, so they don’t lift the whole face?”

“No, only specific sections.”

He stared at the woman, who’d placed her purse on the floor and was gathering the courage to launch into her story. “But if they lift their faces, where does the part that’s been lifted go? Or do they simply lift it and then trim it at the top, like a hedge?”

“Sure, Dooley,” said Brutus with a grin. “They lift it and chop off the top part.”

Dooley looked horrified at this.“But… what happens to the bottom part?”

“The bottom part stays where it is,” said Brutus. “They grab them by the hair and simply pull from the top, see, then tie it off with a piece of twine and chop off the excess skin, and since the skin is then stretched out, the wrinkles all disappear like magic.”

“But that’s terrible!” said Dooley, as I could see he was picturing the gruesome procedure in vivid detail.

“And some of them do it more than once,” Brutus continued, relishing in his sordid tale.

“More than once!”

“Oh, sure. They have three or four or five facelifts in a row.”

“But soon there won’t be any skin left!” Dooley cried.

“And that’s exactly the problem with facelifts. Everything ends up in the wrong place. Their eyes are on their foreheads, their mouths are where their noses used to be, and their chins are where their mouths used to be. So they end up talking through their chin, blow their noses through their mouths and watch television from the top of their heads.”

“But that’s terrible!”

“Don’t listen to Brutus, Dooley,” I said. “He’s exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” said Brutus with a touch of indignation, but his grin was still firmly in place, which detracted from his righteous indignation, effectively nullifying it.

“So what can I do for you, Mrs. Bond?” asked Odelia, placing her hands on her desk and interlacing her fingers.

“I find myself in something of a pickle, Mrs. Kingsley,” said the woman, looking nervous as she launched into her tale.

“So you told Dan,” said Odelia, nodding.

“Before we begin, I wanted to ask if I can rely on your complete discretion?”

“Absolutely,” said Odelia. “Nothing of what you tell me will leave this room, unless you want it to.”

The woman nodded, satisfied.“The thing is that all of a sudden I find myself the victim of… well, blackmail.”

“Someone is blackmailing you?”

The woman nodded, and an expression of extreme concern slid over her face, the mask of composure slipping.“You see, before I married Tilton, I was married to another man—in fact I had a completely different life before I settled into the one I now share with my husband.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman seemed to hesitate.“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“I promise,” Odelia said.

“I used to be married to a man named Clive Atcheson.” She gave Odelia an anxious look. “Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“This all happened nine years ago, in Wilmington, North Carolina, where I used to live at the time. Wilmington is where I was born, and so was Clive. You see, Clive used to run the local branch of Capital First Bank, and for a long time we were very happy. I married Clive straight out of college, and we settled down and had two kids very quickly. I was a stay-at-home mom for a while, and Clive made quite a career at the bank. We lived a good life, Mrs. Kingsley, and I can say that I was happy then. Very happy.”

“So what happened?”

“Clive robbed the bank.”

“He robbed his own bank?”

Mrs. Bond nodded.“One night he didn’t come home, and instead two police officers showed up, and told me that Clive had taken all the money from the big vault, and had disappeared.”

“My God.”

“And the worst part is that his secretary also disappeared. Janice Schiller. The police told me they figured Clive and Janice were having an affair, and were in it together, and had run off with the money.” She looked up, and a sad look had stolen over her face. “So you see, from one day to the next I discovered not only that my husband had been cheating on me with his secretary, but that he was a thief and that he’d robbed his bank.”

“So what happened?”

She shook her head.“Later the police discovered that Clive had rented a car and had driven it across the border into Mexico. And from there the trail went cold.”

“So your husband robbed the bank, then ran off to Mexico with his secretary.”

“Yes. He left me with two small kids, and with a lot of questions from the police, who didn’t seem to believe I wouldn’t have known what he was planning. They kept a close eye on me for the next couple of months, believing that sooner or later get Clive might get in touch. Of course he never did. He’s probably lying on some sandy beach somewhere, sipping cocktails and living the good life with Janice by his side. And since I found myself the subject of a lot of foul gossip, and my kids as well, I decided to leave my hometown. I changed my name from Wendy Atcheson to Rosa Gale, and we settled down here, far away from the place where I was born, and where my life had been shattered by a selfish thieving cheat. Then before long I met a man, this time a good and decent man.”

“Tilton Bond.”

“We hit it off, and I’m happy to say that we’ve been happily married for the past eight years.”

“So what about this blackmailer?”

“I got a phone call last night. A male voice I didn’t recognize. This man said that he knew who I was—that he knew all about my past, and if I wanted to make sure my secret didn’t get out, I could buy his silence by making a generous donation. Five thousand dollars seemed like a good start,he said.”

“Five thousand. That’s a lot of money.”

“It is, and I’m lucky enough that I can afford it. But since he said this was only the beginning, I know it won’t end there. He’ll just keep asking more and more. And even though my husband has money, I can’t possibly ask him to hand over his entire fortune, only because he married a woman with a dark secret in her past.”

“Does your husband know about your first husband and the bank robbery?”

“He does. When we met, at first I didn’t want to tell him, but the night before our wedding, I decided I couldn’t go through with it unless I told him who the woman was he was about to marry.” She looked up, and had tears in her eyes now. “So I said I was going to tell him something very important, and give him the opportunity to back out before it was too late. To his credit, not only didn’t he back out, but he also told me that he thought I was the victim here, and had nothing to blame myself for. He also said he would have understood if I’d kept quiet about my past, but I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to go into this marriage with absolute honesty as a basis to build a solid relationship. No lies.”

“Did you tell him about the blackmail?”

“I did, actually.”

“And what did he say?”

“He told me to go to the police. He said blackmailers will never stop asking for more and more money, especially when they see how easy it is to get it. I told him I couldn’t go to the police, since the blackmailer would make sure the story of my first marriage would get out, and frankly I don’t think I could face it. More importantly, I don’t want my kids to face the consequences of my mistake in marrying their father.”

“So what do you propose? No police?”

“Absolutely no police,” said the woman adamantly.

“So you’re going to pay?”

“I’m going to pay—but only this once.” She gave Odelia an anxious look. “Several of my friends have told me that you are very clever and very resourceful, Mrs. Kingsley. So I was hoping that you might know of a way out of this. Without involving the police.”

Odelia took a deep breath.“So you want this blackmailer to stop, but you don’t want him arrested.” She leaned back and thought this over.

“There must be a way to make sure my secret doesn’t get out, but also that this blackmail stops.” She gave Odelia a look filled with hope.

“Frankly, in my experience blackmailers can only be stopped when the truth comes out and the secret they use as a weapon against their target is no longer a secret.”

“My secret cannot come out—that’s absolutely out of the question. Nobody can know that once upon a time I was Wendy Atcheson. For my children, for their future.”

“How old are your kids?”

“Todd is sixteen and Aisha is fifteen. And then of course there’s the baby. Alisa.”

“So what age were Todd and Aisha when this happened?”

“Todd was seven and Aisha was six.”

“Do they still remember their dad?”

“Yes, they do, though we hardly ever talk about him now. It just wouldn’t be fair to Tilton—though I’m sure he would take it in stride. He’s the most wonderful and patient man I know, and has raised Todd and Aisha as if they were his own flesh and blood—which is more than I could ever have hoped for.”

“Let me think about this, Mrs. Bond. I have an idea, but I will need to discuss it with my husband first.”

Mrs. Bond’s face clouded. “Your husband is a police detective, isn’t he?”

“He is, but I can assure you that he won’t breathe a word about this to anyone.”

Mrs. Bond didn’t look entirely convinced, but since she didn’t have a lot of options, she reluctantly agreed. “All right, but you’ll have to think quick. The drop-off is arranged for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“That’s right. I’m to drop off the money in the park at midnight, and make sure I’m not being followed, and that there is no police anywhere near the drop-off point.”

“Which is where?”

“The playground. I’m to put the money in a plastic bag and put it in a nearby trashcan, then immediately walk away.”

Odelia nodded thoughtfully.“That doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

“I know. I think he’s doing it on purpose. Make sure I don’t have time to think this through, or to set up some kind of counter… initiative.”

“You know what? We’ll make sure that we’re ready for him.”

“He said no police.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t see us. The important thing to remember is that a blackmailer relies as much on his anonymity as he does on the secret he’s got on you, and the fear he can put into you. So when we know who he is, we’ve already won half the battle. At that point, if we want, we can confront him.”

“But won’t he simply start spreading rumors about me? Or whatever evidence he has of my real identity?”

“To be honest with you, Mrs. Bond, at this point I’m as much in the dark as you are. And I think we need to play this by ear, and the first step we can take right now is to make sure we know who we’re dealing with. Find out who this man is.”

The woman nodded.“Of course. You’re right.”

“Now let’s go over this again, only this time in more detail, and if you can give me your phone, and show me the number this person called you from, I think we can start to find out what we’re dealing with here.”

And as Mrs. Bond handed Odelia her phone, and they started making arrangements on how to handle this blackmailer, Dooley said,“I don’t think she’s had a facelift, Max.”

“And why is that, Dooley?” I said, ruminating on Mrs. Bond’s predicament.

“Can’t you see? Her nose is where it should be, and so is her mouth and all the rest.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Imagine having to talk through your chin. That would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it most certainly would, Dooley,” I said with a smile.

Chapter 3

After Rosa Bond had left, Odelia had gone into her editor’s office, to talk the thing through. I could see from the expression on my human’s face that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with this latest assignment. And this is what she told Dan.

“She specifically asked me not to write about the blackmail,” she said. “So frankly I don’t see how this will work, Dan. I mean, she isn’t paying me, and the police department isn’t paying me for my time, but I still want to help. So how do we do this?”

“I’ll pay you for your time,” said Dan.

“But didn’t you hear what I just said? I won’t be able to use any of it for the paper. So what’s the point?”

“The point is that you will be helping a woman in need. And that’s all that matters.”

“But—”

“She can’t go to the police?”

“No. She doesn’t want to expose her kids to what happened nine years ago.”

Dan shrugged.“So you help her. And so what if we can’t use it for the paper? Sometimes we simply want to help people, Odelia. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“But, Dan…”

“Do you think I haven’t hunted down stories and not been able to use any of it in the end—simply because people asked me not to print it? Of course I have!”

“I see.”

“Look, we’re reporters, and we’re in the business of looking for great stories. But because of our very specific skillset sometimes we’re able to do what the police can’t. And that’s fine. In fact that’s great.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Now go out there and make an old man proud. Catch this blackmailer and make sure he never blackmails again.”

“You’re a very peculiar editor, Dan, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Oh, many people,” said the newspaperman with a grin. “I consider it a compliment.”

And as Odelia got on the phone to confer with her husband on how best to handle this situation that had cropped up, I decided to do a little digging into Rosa Bond’s past. Frankly I was intrigued, and curious to find out if the story had indeed played out the way she described it.

So I settled down with the tablet Odelia bought for us. Harriet and Brutus had left the office to take a little stroll and stretch their legs, so it was just Dooley and me.

It didn’t take long for us to hit on several news stories describing the events as they’d transpired nine years ago in the fair city of Wilmington, North Carolina. Rosa’s name had indeed been Wendy Atcheson back then, happily married to Clive Atcheson, branch manager of the Capital First Bank. Untilthe day the man had absconded with the entire contents of his vault, and subsequently run off to Mexico with his secretary Janice Schiller. The total haul of the criminal couple had been a cool five million. Not a bad sum if you wanted to live the good life down South, where cost of living is modest, and it’s easy to fly under the radar with your illegally acquired nest egg. The fact that he had to leave his wife and kids behind didn’t seem to have bothered the banker too much, for he’d never been seen or heard from since, and even though the case had never been officially closed, andhe was still a wanted man there hadn’t been a new development for the past nine years.

“Look at this picture, Dooley,” I said, zooming in on a picture of what looked like a company Christmas party.

“Oh, look, that’s Rosa Bond,” said Dooley, pointing to a woman who stood with raised champagne flute in the foreground. Next to her was a man who was, according to the caption, the banker-slash-robber himself: Clive Atcheson. They were both smiling at the camera, snazzily dressed and clearly having a great time.

“They look so happy,” said Dooley.

“When was this picture taken?” I asked, studying the rest of the article in which the photo had been featured. “Ten years ago. This must have been the Christmas just before it happened.”

“Their last Christmas,” said Dooley. “Isn’t that a song?”

“I think it is,” I said, though I wasn’t all that interested in cultural references. I wanted to find out if the secretary was also in the picture, which would have been an interesting find. I studied the caption, where a few names were mentioned. The picture had appeared in the society section of the Wilmington Times. And then I found her. Janice Schiller. A russet-haired voluptuous woman, standing right behind her boss, and looking in his direction with a gleam of what could only be interpreted as smoldering passion in her eyes.

“Oh, she loved him, Max,” said Dooley. “Just look at the way she’s looking at him.”

“Indeed she did, Dooley,” I agreed. “She loved him with a passion.”

“Bonnie and Clyde, they were.”

“Well, not exactly,” I said. “Bonnie and Clyde left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. These two simply disappeared the moment they crossed the border.”

I studied the picture some more, and noticed a man looking in Janice’s direction with a sort of wistful look on his face. He was a man with receding hairline and a weak chin, no doubt one of many of Janice’s male admirers. Clearly the woman had been some kind of local femme fatale, twisting men around her little finger without any problem.

“Poor Rosa,” said Dooley. “Having to leave her old life behind, just because her husband decided to become a fugitive from justice.”

“Yeah, and think about those poor kids. Todd and Aisha not only lost their dad, but all of their friends—their entire life, in fact.”

“I’m glad that Odelia decided to help them,” said Dooley. “And I hope she catches this blackmailer in the act and makes him stop.”

“Yeah, let’s hope she does,” I agreed. “For Rosa’s sake, and her family.” Hampton Cove is a bucolic little town, but gossip can be fierce and vicious, even in a wonderful community like ours, and Rosa wouldn’t be the first person driven away by the wagging tongues of a few gossipmongers.

“I think this family deserves a break,” said Dooley.

And never truer words were spoken.

Chapter 4

We decided to get a little air ourselves, while Odelia made the necessary arrangements for tonight. Cats don’t like to be cooped up inside for too long. We don’t need to be walked like dogs, since we can very well walk ourselves, thank you very much, but we still like to get out and about at regular intervals. And so as we passed out onto the street, we soon came upon Gran and Scarlett, who were seated in their usual spot, in the Star Hotel’s outside dining area, sipping from their beverages, and conversing with Harriet and Brutus, who’d jumped up on a chair and were taking in a bit of sunshine.

Dooley and I decided to occupy the remaining chair, and enjoy some company while also engaging in one of our favorite activities that we share with the two older ladies: people watching. Main Street spread out before us, and since the heart of town is where all the activity is concentrated, we never stint for something interesting to see there.

“I think it’s a great idea, Harriet,” Gran was saying, “but I’ve been doing some thinking, and I think I’ve come up with a very important improvement on your original setup.”

“What improvement?” asked Harriet suspiciously. It was obvious she didn’t feel her brilliant ideas could be improved upon.

“What are you talking about, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“You remember how Harriet suggested we launch a neighborhood cat watch?”

“Oh, of course,” said Dooley. “That’s going to be a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it will be. Only problem is: how to organize all that information—or like those Silicon Valley whizz kids like to call it: how to handle all that data!”

“What data?” asked Scarlett, who had a hard time following the flow of words between Gran and her cats. Like Chase, she doesn’t have that special gift that enables her to converse with us.

“Okay, so let’s assume that there are always a dozen cats on every street, and every cat sends back information about what they see to the neighborhood watch. With me so far?”

“Uh-huh,” said Scarlett, taking a sip from her cappuccino.

“Now multiply that by the number of streets in this town. Which is…” She frowned, then, since she couldn’t be bothered, concluded, “a lot. A whole lot of data!”

“Too much, if you ask me.”

“I agree. So we need to up our game and come up with a solution. And that solution is… an app!” said Gran with an air of ‘ta-dah!’

“An app,” said Scarlett with a frown.

“An app! Apps are all the rage, hon!”

“I know they’re all the rage, but we don’t know the first thing about app development. In fact sometimes I have a hard time using the apps on my phone.”

“And that’s where Kevin comes in.”

“Kevin? As in my grandnephew Kevin?”

“Exactly! He’s the computer nerd in the family, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So? He can build us an app that can talk to this database… thingie.”

“I guess so. But I still don’t see…”

“That’s because I haven’t told you the best part yet.”

“Which is?”

“We develop an app and we give it some cool name. Like iCat or whatever. Some name that is easy to remember. And once we have it—we promote the hell out of it, and bingo!”

“Bingo?”

“We sell it to one of the big boys and become millionaires!”

“You lost me again, hon.”

Gran sighed, like one who has to contend with lesser minds than her own. Einstein probably had to deal with this kind of thing all the time.“Okay, so cats spy for us, see?”

“I’m with you so far.”

“Hundreds of cats, or even thousands. Covering the entire Hampton Cove territory. There won’t be an inch of this town we won’t be able to monitor through their eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Now all of those cats will be equipped with smart collars—audio and video included—sending their data back to a database where it’s all collected and analyzed and sent to our app, courtesy of Kevin.”

“Oh… kay,” said Scarlett, sounding dubious about her grandnephew’s capacity to build such an amazing app, but still prepared to give the plan the benefit of the doubt.

“So then the system automatically comes up with the threats that need to be addressed: burglaries in progress, domestic disputes, drunks tearing up the neighborhood, vandals spraying graffiti on town hall… what have you.”

“Car thieves breaking into cars, jealous men keying their neighbors’ new Jaguar,” said Scarlett, getting the gist of the thing.

“Exactly! And that information is then automatically sent to us, and either we go after the criminals, or we liaise with the police and they send a couple of officers to deal with the crime, while it isstill in progress,” she said, stressing this last part by pounding the table with a bony fist, making her hot chocolate drink and Scarlett’s cappuccino jump merrily up and down to the beat of Gran’s pretty excitement.

“That all sounds wonderful,” said Scarlett. “But I’m not sure how feasible it is.”

“It’s perfectly feasible. On one condition and one condition only.”

“And what is that?”

“That the people handling the data are well-versed in the feline language. I mean, how else are they going to be able to interpret what all of those thousands of cats are saying?”

“Oh,” said Scarlett, and her face sagged.

“What?”

“You know I can’t talk cat, honey.”

“Yes, I know that, but there’s no reason why you can’t learn.”

Scarlett frowned.“You mean…”

“Exactly! With my help, and the assistance of my four precious darlings here, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick up the language in no time. And then it’s simply a matter of taking turns manning GHQ and coordinating the whole thing.”

“Oh, I would love to learn their language,” said Scarlett, giving me a pat on the head, which I responded to by giving her a soft purr in return. I like Scarlett, always have, even when she and Gran were archenemies and fought tooth and nail at every opportunity.

“I’ll teach her, Gran,” said Harriet. “After all, this was my idea in the first place.”

“I know it was your idea, Harriet,” said Gran, giving the prissy Persian a tickle under her chin. “And definitely one of your better ones.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course! We could wipe out crime in the whole country if we get this thing rolling.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” said Dooley. “No more crime anywhere.”

“It would also mean that there wouldn’t be cops anymore,” Brutus pointed out, “which would mean that Chase and Uncle Alec would be out of a job.”

“I doubt it,” said Harriet. “There will still have to be cops to respond to the tips they receive from the Neighborhood Cat Watch.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Brutus admitted.

“Crime will only disappear as long as we remain vigilant, sugar pants. Those criminals will always be criminals, and they’ll still want to engage in their acts of criminal activity. It’s us who will stand in their way, and so vigilance is key.” She turned to Gran. “Did you mention something about us becoming millionaires, Gran?”

“Well, as soon as the app is working the way it should, we’ll get a lot of attention. And you know what that means, right?”

“That… I’ll need to have new pictures taken?”

“That the big boys will fall over each other to buy us out! Google, Microsoft, Facebook—they’ll stand in line with their checkbooks, offering us millions for the app. There will be a bidding war, because let’s face it—who doesn’t want to get rid of crime? In fact it wouldn’t surprise me, when the dust settles, that we’ll make a hundred million dollars.”

“A hundred million dollars!” Harriet cried.

“At the very least!”

“How many nuggets of kibble is that?” asked Brutus.

I could already see the dollar signs flashing in Harriet’s eyes, and even though I could have told her there were major flaws in Gran’s plan, I knew she wouldn’t be susceptible to my counter-arguments, so I wisely conserved my energy and kept my tongue.

“Okay, but so first things first,” said Gran. “Scarlett, you need to talk to Kevin, and tell him to start working on that app. Also, you need to sit down with Harriet and start learning the language.”

“Oh, goodie,” said Scarlett, as she high-fived Harriet at this point. Okay, so maybe it was a low-five. Cats are, after all, vertically challenged when compared with humans.

And since it seemed clear that our presence was no longer required, Dooley and I took our leave. Harriet might be getting ready to become a multimillionaire, but we had a blackmailer to catch, and frankly that seemed more important than Gran’s elusive app.

Chapter 5

“Do you think that Scarlett will be able to learn our language, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Somehow I doubt it, Dooley,” I said.

“Why? Don’t you think she’s clever enough?”

“Oh, I think she’s certainly clever enough, but my impression has always been that being able to talk to cats is a gift, not something that can be taught.” A gift passed along the female line, otherwise Uncle Alec would have been able to talk to us as well.

“So that means that Gran and Harriet’s plan is a bust?”

“Not necessarily. It is true that if you outfit a cat with a camera and a microphone, they’ll be able to pick up certain things, but unless they’re trained to pay attention to criminal activity, what they’ll pick up is simply the kinds of things cats are naturally interested in: what birds are tootling in the trees, or a piece of fish filet someone left on the windowsill to cool off. And those things aren’t necessarily indicative of a crime.”

“If the cat steals the fish filet it is a crime,” said Dooley.

I smiled.“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the kind of crime that will make Gran a multimillionaire.”

We’d arrived at the General Store, where our friend Kingman likes to hold forth in front of the store. His human Wilbur was behind the counter as usual, scanning the wares as they passed him by on the conveyor belt, meanwhile keeping an eye on the television screen, where an old black-and-white episode of Zorro was playing.

“Hey, you guys,” said Kingman when we came trudging up. “How are things in the world of crime?”

“Not too good,” I said. “A woman just walked into Odelia’s office hoping to get rid of a blackmailer.”

“A blackmailer, huh?” said Kingman. “Nasty business, blackmail.”

“Yeah, especially since a blackmailer never stops, unless the big secret is out in the open, and that’s exactly what this woman can’t afford.”

“So who’s the woman, and what is her secret?”

And so in a few short words I told him the story as Rosa had conveyed it to Odelia.

“Five million bucks. I can understand why she wants to keep it a secret. Though if I’m being totally honest, my suggestion would be to stop worrying about the secret, and catch that blackmailer before he makes any more victims.”

“But what about her future? And the future of her kids?”

“Look, her husband already knows, so from that side she will get all the support she needs. And the kids are nine years older now, and probably not as vulnerable as they used to be. And frankly I don’t think people will care that much. It’s all ancient history now. And also, it didn’t happen here, and you know how people don’t care a hoot about what happens elsewhere. And thirdly, she didn’t do anything wrong, if I understood you correctly. It’s the ex-husband who committed a crime, so why should she and her kids suffer?”

“Good points,” I said, nodding. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I think if people found out what this woman went through, they’d show her compassion and support instead of scorn and suspicion. Just my two cents.”

“No, but you’re absolutely right.”

“Do you think cats can get a facelift, Kingman?” asked Dooley now.

Kingman frowned.“What do cats need facelifts for?”

“Well, when their jawlines starts to sag,” said Dooley. “To lift them, you know.”

“Look, Dooley, we have one advantage over humans: our faces are covered with fur. So if we get a sagging jawline or the odd wrinkle, who cares? No one will notice.”

Dooley thought about this for a moment, then said,“But then why don’t humans simply let their beards grow out? That way they can cover their faces with fur, too.”

“Oh, but they do,” said Kingman. “Haven’t you noticed that when men get older, they suddenly decide to grow a beard? It’s simply so they can hide that sagging jawline under an inch of fuzz.”

“So why don’t women do the same thing?”

“Because women don’t grow beards, Dooley.”

“But they do,” said Dooley. “Gran has a mustache, but she waxes it. I’ve seen her do it. I’ve asked her why, but she won’t say. She just said she doesn’t want to look like a Yeti.”

Both Kingman and I laughed heartily at this, but since Dooley kept staring at us, clearly expecting an answer to his unasked question, I finally said,“Look, Dooley. Bearded women aren’t as universally accepted as bearded men.”

“But why not?”

“Because humans like to adhere to certain standards of beauty, and a woman with a beard simply doesn’t fit into that concept.”

“Well, it should,” said Dooley. “It would solve all of their problems. They could hide their jawlines when they sag and they could also hide the wrinkles around their mouths.”

“Great,” I said. “You tell Gran, and maybe she can start spreading the word.”

“Oh, but I will, Max,” said Dooley. “I think it’s a lot less painful than pulling up your face and then chopping off the excess skin. Or ripping out those hairs with hot wax.”

“What excess skin?” asked Kingman, clearly at a loss.

“Didn’t you know, Kingman? People have their faces lifted and the excess skin surgically removed.” His eyes went wide. “That’s probably why people lose their hair when they’re older: it’s simply chopped off at the top, along with all that wrinkly skin!”

“You just might be right, Dooley,” said Kingman, as he glanced over to his human. I followed his gaze, and saw how Wilbur was indeed getting thinner on top, and how the beard he’d started growing had moved up his face. It used to start around his Adam’s apple but now started just below his chin, and had almost reached his eyes.

“Soon his eyebrows will be on top of his head,” said Dooley in hushed tones, “and his beard will cover the place where his eyes used to be. He’ll have to part the hairs to see.”

I shivered, and I think we all praised a benevolent god who’d made sure that cats never had to go through the terrible ordeal of the so-called facelift.

And as we said goodbye to Kingman, he reminded us to talk to Odelia, and to tell Rosa not to be afraid to confront her blackmailer. She would be just fine if he told the whole world about her secret, and I can’t say I didn’t think Kingman was right on the money.

Chapter 6

That night, a veritable welcoming committee was awaiting the blackmailer and lying in wait for his arrival. The particular trashcan the blackmailer had told Rosa Bond to dump the bag of money in was located directly underneath a lamppost… which was out of order.

“I think he must have picked this spot for this exact reason,” said Chase, who was located in the bushes directly opposite the trashcan, along with Odelia. “Which means he thought this out in advance.”

“I still think we should have asked Uncle Alec to dispatch a couple of his officers,” said Odelia. “What if he manages to escape?”

“No way,” said Chase. “He’ll have to run really fast if he wants to beat me.”

“Chase sounds very confident, Max,” said Dooley. “Do you really think he will be able to catch the blackmailer?”

“I’m sure he will, Dooley,” I said. “Chase is very fit.”

“Chaseis very fit,” Dooley admitted.

We gave the man a look of admiration. Chase looked in fine fettle tonight, and even seemed eager to confront Rosa’s blackmailer.

“That’s why he’s such a great cop,” said Dooley.

“Because he’s so fit?”

“Because he’s never afraid to confront the bad guys.”

Just then, a lone figure came wandering along the path. Rosa didn’t look left or right, but immediately dumped a small plastic bag into the trashcan, placed there by the town council for the purpose of receiving cigarette butts, candy wrappers, chewing gum, dog excrement, but most definitely not five thousand dollars wrapped in one of the General Store’s generic plastic baggies. Then again, humans have always been very creative in thinking up ways to repurpose household objects like plastic bags. Nowadays they turn them into park benches, backyard decks and fences and even playground equipment. So this particular plastic bag might one day make its way back to the park—minus the cash.

Rosa quickly walked on, as she’d been instructed to, and now the long wait began for the crook who’d forced her to pay up to avoid her past becoming common knowledge.

And we didn’t have to wait long: suddenly a man came trudging up that same path, looked left and right, then dipped into the trash receptacle, took out the plastic bag, and then tucked it into his coat and was off at a nice clip! All in all a very smooth operator!

“Let’s grab him!” Chase said, and was out of those bushes and proving his parents correct in naming him Chase: he hurried in the direction of the blackmailer, and made haste doing so. Unfortunately the blackmailer must have seen him coming, for he, too, quickened his step, then broke into an outright run. Odelia had sprang from the bushes like a coiled spring, and even Dooley and myself were giving chase, though at a much more sedate tempo. And as the chase was on, we could see Chase gaining on the blackmailer, and I anticipated an imminent capture any moment when all of a sudden, out of the bushes Gran and Scarlett appeared, followed by Harriet and Brutus. They crossed Chase’s path as the cop was in the homestretch to tackle the blackmailer, and their timing was thus that Gran collided with Chase, Scarlett collided with Odelia, Harriet collided with Dooley, and Brutus collided with me. So on the whole you might say that it was one serendipitous collision, and the upshot was that by the time all the limbs had been disentangled, and all the heads had been screwed on right again, and the loud and vociferous recriminations had died away, of our blackmailer there was not a single trace.

In other words, the neighborhood watch—or should I call them the Neighborhood Cat Watch now?—had effectively been instrumental in allowing the bad guy to get away.

Not a propitious start for Gran and Harriet’s latest harebrained scheme!

The conversation that followed wasn’t a very fruitful one, either.

“You let him get away!” Chase cried.

“Let who get away?” asked Gran, massaging a sore spot where the large and muscular cop had bumped into her. It was in fact a small miracle that all her body parts were still attached and that she was still breathing. If a man of Chase’s dimensions had bumped into me, going at that speed, I would have been flattened. Like running into a bulldozer.

“Can’t tell you,” Chase grunted, scanning the horizon for the elusive blackmailer.

“Can’t tell me what?”

“Sorry—it’s classified,” the cop announced.

“Classified? Who are you? James Bond? Do you have a license to kill, too? Cause you tried to kill me just now!”

“As if,” Chase scoffed. He was clearly annoyed that he’d lost his man.

“Chase is probably right,” said Dooley. “I think Gran is very hard to kill.”

“Oh, don’t say things like that, Dooley,” said Harriet. “It’s upsetting.”

“No, but it’s true. She reminds me of a certain bug.”

“What bug?” asked Harriet.

“Well, it was in a Discovery Channel documentary the other night. There’s this bug that can survive anything. They’ve even shot it into space and it survived. Now what are they called?”

“Tartigrades,” I said. I’d also seen this particular documentary.

“That’s it!” Dooley cried.

“Also called water bears or moss piglets.”

“Who are you calling a moss piglet?” asked Gran, giving me a dangerous look.

“So who were you chasing?” asked Brutus, getting back to the point at issue.

“Oh, you know, Brutus,” I said. “You were in Odelia’s office this morning.”

“Oh, that,” said Brutus, as if suddenly remembering what was the most important case that had come our way in weeks.

“Who were they chasing, Brutus?” asked Gran.

“Umm…” said Brutus, cutting a quick glance to Odelia, who placed a finger to her lips in the universal sign of ‘Shut up if you know what’s good for you!’ And so Brutus did shut up, because he did know what was good for him–and who.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Gran. “We’re all part of the same neighborhood watch now. And us neighborhood watchers don’t keep secrets from each other. That’s immoral.”

“Immoral!” spat Chase. “Wanna know what’s immoral? Sabotaging our operation!”

“If only you’d told us about your ‘operation,’ Mr. Bond, we could have helped you!” said Gran, getting a little hot under her collar.

Dooley uttered a giggle, causing all eyes to turn to him.“Mr. Bond,” he said. “It’s funny, because we’re working for Mrs. Bond.”

“Mrs. Bond? Who’s Mrs. Bond?” said Gran.

“Rosa Bond?” asked Scarlett. “The wife of Tilton Bond?”

“Who’s Tilton Bond?” asked Gran. “James Bond’s brother?”

“He used to run an internet business, then sold it for a lot of money and since then he’s set up a foundation and has been giving a lot of his money to charity.”

“Nutjob,” Gran grunted. Clearly she couldn’t understand why anyone would give their precious millions to charity.

Odelia turned to her husband.“Maybe we better tell her,” she said.

“I thought your client had sworn you to absolute secrecy?”

“Yeah, but Gran won’t tell anyone, will you, Gran?”

“Me? Tell anyone? Never has there ever been anyone as discreet as me.”

Scarlett made a scoffing sound at that, but when Gran gave her a look that could kill, she quickly shut up.

“Look, this has to remain between the four of us, all right?” said Odelia.

“Absolutely—now spill.”

And so Odelia proceeded to explain to her grandmother and Scarlett the circumstances of our nocturnal stakeout. It caused the two friends to utter a whistle of surprise.

“Five million dollars,” said Scarlett. “No wonder she had to change her name and move out here to the sticks.”

“Why?” asked Odelia.

“Honey, whenever that kind of money is involved, all kinds of vermin comes crawling out of the woodwork wanting a piece of it. Just look at this blackmailer. I’m sure there will be others just like him. In fact it’s a small miracle she’s been able to keep this a secret for so long. People are bound to find out, and if you think like a criminal, you probably figure that Rosa Bond is still in touch with the father of her kids, and if she is, why not give an enterprising crook his coordinates in Mexico, so they can organize a ‘rescue party.’ Rescue what’s left of that five milliondollars, not the man himself—who’ll probably find himself on the operative side of a deadly gun and then in a shallow grave—him and his secretary.”

I turned to Dooley.“So maybe Kingman was wrong to figure it would be best to share Rosa’s secret with the world.”

“Yeah, he probably was,” my friend agreed.

“What was Kingman’s advice?” asked Odelia, curious.

“Well, he figured that since Rosa didn’t do anything wrong, people would be sympathetic if they found out about what happened.”

“He’s got a point,” said Gran. “Except that Scarlett also has a point. That kind of money brings out the worst in people, and so maybe it’s best if nobody finds out.” She smiled at her friend. “Now tell me, honey. How much of this conversation have you picked up?”

“To be honest? Not one iota.”

“Not a single word?”

“Not a thing.”

“Don’t worry, Scarlett,” said Chase. “I don’t understand them either and that’s fine. Lucky for me I’ve got my sweetheart to translate for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s very important that I learn their language,” said Scarlett.

“Important why?” asked Odelia.

“Um…” Scarlett looked to Gran, who shook her head decidedly.

“I’m sorry,” said the old lady. “I’m afraid it’s a secret.”

“A secret!” Odelia cried. “But I just told you my secret!”

“Yeah, well, that’s where you and I are different: you can’t keep a secret, but I can. Now let’s skedaddle, Scarlett.”

“Where are you going?” asked Chase.

“Scarlett is going to attend cat choir, and see if she can’t pick up a few words.”

And before Odelia had recovered from her indignation, the two friends had indeed skedaddled, and so had Brutus and Harriet.

And since cat choir is indeed a very important social event, Dooley and I took our leave as well.

I mean, why stick around? That blackmailer was probably on the other side of town by now, counting his money and thanking his lucky stars.

And wondering how much he was going to ask the next time.

Ten thousand? Twenty? Thirty?

Easy pickings.

Chapter 7

The next morning I woke up from a peaceful slumber, lying at the foot of my human’s bed, and yawned and stretched, as one does, when I noticed a pair of eyes fixed on me. I gave the starer a kindly smile. “Hey, Brutus. Sleep well?”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Max?” my friend said.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” I said. Of course one never really knows if one is all right, does one? I mean, there can be any number of things wrong with you and you’ll never know. The feline body is, after all, a complex machine, and difficult even for its inhabitant to fully fathom. But I had a feeling Brutus wasn’t interested in these philosophical ruminations, so I didn’t go into all that. Instead, I said, “Why? Do you think something is wrong with me?” Oftentimes it’s the outsider who can see things you as the so-called insider cannot.

“Just that when you ran into me last night you may have sustained permanent damage. Then again, the effect might be delayed, of course.”

“What effect?” I asked, now thoroughly bewildered. “What permanent damage?”

“Are you permanently damaged, Max?” asked Dooley, who’d also woken up now and was following the conversation with rising concern.

“It’s just that when you run into a muscular cat like me, it’s almost like running into a brick wall,” Brutus explained. “And the damage, if not immediate, could manifest later on.”

“You mean like when Road Runner falls off a cliff and only breaks up into a thousand little pieces after there’s been a delay for comedic purposes?” said Dooley, who’s big on the Cartoon Network, at least when he’s not diligently watching the Discovery Channel.

“Something like that,” Brutus allowed. He was still regarding me with marked concern. “Watch my paw, Max, can you do that for me? Just your eyeballs—keep your head still.” And to demonstrate what he meant, he moved his paw in front of my face from the left to the right and back again. I followed his paw eagerly, without moving my head.

“How am I doing?” I asked finally.

“Mh,” said Brutus. “Everything seems to be in order. Though to be absolutely sure you probably need to see a neurologist. They can do some more extensive testing to see if you didn’t suffer any brain damage.”

“Brain damage!” Dooley cried. “Max, do you think you have brain damage?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, and shook my head a little, just to make sure my brain was still present and accounted for. “I don’t have a headache, if that’s what you mean,” I said.

“Yeah, a headache would be a clear indication that your brain is all shook up,” Brutus agreed.

Harriet now also woke up and stretched languorously before opening her eyes and taking in the scene.“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you all looking as if somebody died?”

“Brutus thinks Max has brain damage from running into him last night,” said Dooley.

“It’s like running into a brick wall, see,” said Brutus, reiterating his earlier point. “And I have to say I take full responsibility, Max. When you have the kind of otherworldly physicality I have, your body turns into a lethal weapon, even if you don’t mean it to.”

“Oh, pookie bear, Max didn’t run into you that hard,” said Harriet.

“Yeah, you probably have a point,” said Brutus. “Max is big and sluggish, so he probably isn’t capable of reaching the kind of speed required to do serious damage when suddenly brought to a stop by hitting an unyielding rocklike object like myself.” He clapped me on the shoulder, almost making me topple off the bed. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Max,” he said, giving me the smile a doctor would give a cancer patient who he knows only has a couple of weeks to live and doesn’t want to worry.

“But… I did hit you pretty hard last night, Brutus,” I said.

“Yeah, but like Harriet pointed out, you weren’t going that fast, Max, so I’m sure everything is fine up there underneath that ivory dome of yours.” And to show us he meant what he said, he gave me a hard rap on the noggin.

“Ouch,” I murmured. “I felt that.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” he said, immediately rueful. “I guess I don’t know my own strength.” He sighed. “That’s the problem when you’re as strong and muscular as I am: you end up hurting your friends and loved ones, even though you simply can’t help it. The Rock must have the same problem. And Superman, of course.”

“I bumped into Harriet last night,” said Dooley. “Do you think I have brain damage, too?”

Brutus smiled at this.“You need to have a brain before it can get damaged, Dooley.”

“Don’t be mean, snuggle bunny,” said Harriet as she yawned once again.

“I’m not being mean. I’m just pointing out a physical fact: when you don’t have a brain, it can’t get damaged.” He gave up another wistful sigh. “I wish sometimes that I was like Dooley. As it is, I simply can’t stop thinking—can’t turn off the old noodle, you know. Keep thinking about the new mission.”

“What mission?” I asked, giving our humans a keen glance, wondering when they would get up.

“Well, we talked things through last night, while you guys were chasing that blackmailer—unsuccessfully, I might add—and we’ve come up with a sound plan of campaign.”

“Is that so?” I said, not all that interested in Brutus’s plan.

“Yeah, Harriet is going to teach Scarlett to talk to cats, while I start recruiting the Baker Street Cats.”

“Baker Street what?”

“You remember the Baker Street Boys, right?”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “Sherlock Holmes’s youthful helpers.”

“Who are the Baker Street Boys, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Well, Sherlock Holmes had a group of youthful street urchins who helped him tackle his cases and solve crimes. They’d spy the streets of London and report back to him.”

“Homeless kids, mostly,” said Brutus. “Living rough on London’s mean streets. They were called the Baker Street Boys because that’s where Holmes lived: in Baker Street. And that’s what gave me the idea—”

“What gave me the idea,” Harriet interjected.

“What gave us the idea. Neighborhood Cat Watch sounds so boring, and Baker Street Cats has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Shouldn’t it be Harrington Street Cats, since we live in Harrington Street?” asked Dooley.

Brutus decided to ignore him and went on,“So like the Baker Street Boys reported back to Sherlock Holmes, our Baker Street Cats will report to their own brilliant detective: me.”

“You mean me, snickerdoodle,” said Harriet.

“We’re still working out the details,” said Brutus.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“So I’ll be teaching the human operators to talk to cats,” said Harriet, “and Brutus will train a network of cats to patrol the streets of Hampton Cove and bring us anything that might tell us that a crime is being committed or planned. Isn’t that just great?”

It certainly sounded like a plan, I thought.“And how are all those cats going to communicate with you?” I asked.

“Well, Gran wanted us all to wear our smart collars again, but I put my paw down and said no.”

“We told her we hate those smart collars,” said Brutus.

He wasn’t lying. Twice now our humans had tried to outfit us with collars—first the usual kind, and the second time around some snazzy high-tech collars with GPS tracking and the capacity to monitor our vital signs. In both cases the conclusion had been that cats and collars don’t mix, and I was glad the plan had been nipped in the bud this time.

“I’ll go out there and talk to my lieutenants,” said Brutus, “and those lieutenants will talk to the soldiers, and so on down to the lowest echelon. I’m not going to bother you with the details, but it’s a complicated but highly effective structure. Like an army.”

“So you’re building yourself an army now, are you?” I said.

“Yeah, an army of cats, designed to keep our streets safe.” He thrust out his chest. “I think it’s going to be the greatest thing since sliced bread, and Gran thinks so, too. And when all is said and done, and we’re fully operational, Gran will get in touch with potential investors, and we’ll roll out the Baker Street Cats project to neighboring towns, then to the entire county, the state, the country, and finally the whole world.”

“Global domination,” I murmured. “Very James Bond.”

“I know, right?” said Brutus, glowing with pride.

“There are cats everywhere,” said Harriet, pointing out the obvious. “There are cats in China, in Japan, in the Middle-East, in Africa, and even in faraway places like Europe. So there’s no reason the Baker Street Cats app we’re building won’t be a big hit all over the world.” She grinned at her mate, who gave her an affectionate grin in return, and they shared a smooch. “It’s going to be grand, snuggle pooh. Just grand.”

“I know it is, sugar britches,” said Brutus.

Boy, was I glad not having to be a part of this new global army of cats.

“So how about it, Max?” said Brutus.

“How about what?” I asked.

“I need a second-in-command. A loyal lieutenant who I can trust implicitly, and who will carry out my orders unflinchingly and without asking questions. You up for the task?”

“No, thank you, Brutus,” I said. “I’ll pass.”

He frowned.“What do you mean, you’ll pass? Don’t you want the streets of Hampton Cove to be free from crime?”

“Oh, absolutely, but I’m not sure this is the way to do it.”

“What are you talking about? This is a fool-proof plan. In fact it’s the only plan.”

I gave him a gentle pat on the back. “And I’m sure you’re the right cat for the job, Brutus. But frankly I have other things to do.”

“What other things?!”

“Yeah, Max,” Harriet chimed in. “What could possibly be more important than the Baker Street Cats?”

“Protecting Rosa Bond from her blackmailer, for one thing,” I said. “And making sure she gets her five thousand dollars back.”

Brutus made a throwaway gesture with his paw.“That’s peanuts, Max. I’m talking major crime prevention here. We’re going after the big guns. The people that are laying waste to our community, preying on the innocent and destroying the social fabric of this town.”

“Well, I think catching Rosa’s blackmailer is a good start,” I said.

Brutus gave me a nasty look.“I think you hit your head harder than you thought last night, cause this kind of thinking is indicative of some major brain damage right there.”

“Oh, no,” said Dooley, slapping a paw to his mouth. “Max, you have to get an MIR as soon as possible!”

“You mean an MRI?”

“That one, too.”

Just then, the doorbell chimed, and I was glad, for it saved me from having to contend with Brutus’s cat army, and Dooley’s concern for my apparently very feeble brain.

Odelia stirred, and so did Chase, but it took another couple of attempts by our unknown visitor to finally wake them sufficiently to crawl from underneath the covers and head down the stairs to open the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Odelia without much enthusiasm. And when I arrived downstairs to see who this could possibly be, I saw it was none other than Uncle Alec.

“I’m afraid there’s been a murder,” said the Chief as he took in his frumpy-looking niece.

Chase, also stomping down the stairs, and looking much too refreshed for a man who’d only turned in late last night, frowned and said, “A murder? What do you mean?”

Uncle Alec sniffed the air.“Is that coffee I smell?”

The hint was obvious, and while a sleepy-looking Odelia popped a capsule into the coffeemaker, Chase had already popped back upstairs and moments later we heard the shower running.

Brutus might be built like a brick wall, but so was his human, and all that brick needed regular maintenance to keep it in excellent shape. And while Uncle Alec took a seat at the kitchen counter, and proceeded to inform his niece about this most recent crime, the rest of the cat contingent made their way down, and I told Brutus, “There’s been a murder. Time to instruct your lieutenants and your soldiers to start looking for clues and such.”

But Brutus held up his paw.“I’m afraid I don’t have time to deal with that right now, Max. You’ll have to handle this one on your own, I’m afraid.”

“Oh? But I thought—”

He shook his head.“You don’t understand what an enormous undertaking the Baker Street Cats is, do you, Max? First we need to put an entire infrastructure in place. There’s meetings we need to conduct, people that need to be trained, an organization that needs to be built. It will take time before we’re fullyoperational. But once we are, you better watch out, for here we come.”

But instead of coming, he was going, disappearing through the cat flap.

I glanced up to Odelia.“Is it all right if Dooley and I tag along, Odelia?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, having trouble keeping her eyes open. That’s what you get when you spend half the night trying to catch a blackmailer: you look like a train wreck in the morning. And since Odelia has never been a morning person to begin with…

Chase now came thundering down the stairs, looking like the Energizer Bunny.

“Tell me all, buddy!” he yelled, causing Odelia to wince and shake her head.

Chapter 8

Turns out the victim of this latest crime had come to a sticky end in our very own street. And so two Harrington Street Cats—me and Dooley—found ourselves a couple of houses down from the one we call home, and staring at the body of the recently deceased.

The house itself was of the dilapidated kind, and not nearly as nice as most of the houses on the block. Then again, once upon a time probably all the houses had been like this: a little cramped and not exactly up to modern specs. But over the years houses had been torn down and rebuilt, and others renovated. Willie Dornhauser’s house had escaped this remodeling craze, and I would like to say that it had stood the test of time but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Mr. Dornhauser, too, looked a little dilapidated, and I’m not saying this merely because he was dead. His hair was unkempt, and so were his clothes, and he had a ratty sort of facial growth on his chin and a ruddy face, now slightly less ruddy, presumably, than when he’d still been amongst the living.

Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, sat crouched next to the dead man, examining him closely, as a country coroner does, then finally shook his head.“He’s dead,” he announced in a mournful baritone.

“I know he’s dead, Abe,” said Chase. “But what made him this way, that’s what I would like to know.”

“Well, that’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?” said the heavyset coroner as he got up with some effort and some serious cracking sounds coming from both knees. He pointed to a sort of reddish spot on the man’s head. “He was hit over the head with a blunt object. Hit from behind, too. Likely fractured the skull and death would have been instantaneous.”

Chase glanced around the messy living room: the tattered couch that had seen better days, the floral chintz curtains, the fast food cartons on the floor, the coffee table loaded with beer cans and the ashtrays filled to overflowing. It was clear that Mr. Dornhauser was a man who had believed in living dangerously, and hadn’t been taking advantage of the Surgeon General’s health advice. But what had ultimately killed him weren’t the cigarettes he’d obviously been fond of, or the beer, but a vicious smack on the head.

“Any sign of the murder weapon?” asked Odelia as she walked in.

“Nothing,” said Chase. Both he and Odelia had donned plastic gloves, and were deftly going through the man’s stuff.

“Do you think we should wear plastic gloves, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t think so, Dooley.”

“But what if we contaminate the evidence!”

“I don’t think that’s an issue,” I said with a smile. You see, cats don’t have fingers, so we don’t have fingerprints either. We do have pawprints, but those are easily eliminated from the investigation.

“Weird,” said Chase as he rifled through what looked like a small desk in the corner of the room.

“What is?” asked Odelia.

“No phone, no computer.”

“Maybe he didn’t have a phone or a computer?”

“He had an internet connection. And how many people do you know who don’t have a phone nowadays?”

“None?”

“And what have we here?” the detective murmured as he stuck his hands into the man’s jacket pocket and came away with a wallet.

“Can he do that, Max?” asked Dooley, referring to Chase looking through the man’s wallet with keen interest.

“They’re conducting a murder investigation,” I pointed out. “So I think it’s fine.”

“But isn’t this man entitled to privacy?”

“This man is dead, Dooley, and right now it’s more important to catch his killer than to protect his privacy.”

“Oh, right,” said Dooley as he, too, glanced around, then sniffed the air. “It smells very bad in here, Max. I think they probably should open a window.”

“Yeah, it does smell pretty terrible in here,” I agreed. The smell of thousands of cigarettes having been smoked in this very room. And the stench of stale beer, of course.

“Look at this,” said Chase, as he held out a neat stack of crisp twenty-dollar bills.

“Do you think…” Odelia began, as she took out her tablet and brought up a note she’d made. Odelia is a modern detective, you see. Used to be that police officers jotted everything down with pencil and paper, and Chase still does, but Odelia has one of those tablets on which you can write with a stylus. She and Chase now stood bent over her tablet, while they compared something on the screen to the bills Chase had liberated from Mr. Dornhauser’s wallet. Then they both looked up, a smile on their faces.

“Bingo,” said Chase.

“What’s going on?” asked Dooley.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I said, “if the bills in Willie Dornhauser’s wallet are the same ones Rosa Bond paid to her blackmailer last night.” I now remembered that Odelia had instructed Rosa to have the bank write down the numbers on the notes they gave her.

“Absolutely right, Max,” said Odelia, throwing caution to the wind and for once talking to us even when in the presence of others. She immediately regretted it, though, for Abe Cornwall had pricked up his ears and stood regarding us curiously. But then one of the techies drew his attention and they disappeared into the kitchen together.

“So Willie Dornhauser was Rosa Bond’s blackmailer, huh?” said Chase.

“So where is the rest of the money?” asked Odelia.

Chase quickly counted the small stack he’d discovered in the dead man’s wallet. “There’s five hundred here. So that leaves four thousand five hundred unaccounted for.”

And so they proceeded to turn the place upside down, looking for the rest of Rosa’s money. When an hour had passed, and both the police and the crime scene technicians had searched everywhere, and the money still hadn’t been found, Chase removed his plastic gloves and walked out to confer with his wife. We followed them out into the front yard, where a hushed conversation was carried out.

“Could be that he wasn’t working alone,” Chase suggested. “In which case his associate and Willie might have gotten into some kind of argument over how to split the money.”

“The associate conked him on the head,” said Odelia, describing a possible scenario, “and got away with the rest of the cash.”

“Or could be that somehow Rosa discovered her blackmailer’s identity, followed him here last night, and decided to exact some personal justice.”

“Rosa isn’t the vigilante type, Chase,” said Odelia. “Besides, if she’d known who her blackmailer was, don’t you think she would have told me?”

“We won’t know until we talk to her,” said Chase, very reasonably, I thought. He glanced up and down the street, where several people had gathered on the sidewalk, and stood talking animatedly, probably wondering what all the police activity was about. “First let’s do a house-to-house, and find out who Willie Dornhauser was.”

Chapter 9

Two of the people who had gathered in front of their house were Marge and Tex. So it stood to reason that we talked to them first. They’d lived on this street ever since they got married twenty-five years ago, and probably knew pretty much everybody on this block.

“Willie?” said Marge, looking surprised. “Yeah, of course I knew Willie. Great handyman.”

“Yeah, he was,” Tex confirmed. “Though we stopped using him a long time ago, didn’t we, honey?”

“And why is that?” asked Chase.

“Well, Willie had a bad reputation,” said Tex.

“What kind of reputation?”

“Let’s just say that when you hired Willie to work on your house, things had a habit of disappearing.”

“You mean he was a thief?”

“You can say that,” said Tex, “though nothing was ever proven, and we never filed a complaint against him. We just stopped using him.”

“The thing is that Willie had hands of gold,” said Marge. “If you wanted something done in the house, and you asked Willie, he got it done without any fuss, and he wasn’t expensive either. Just…”

“That things got stolen,” Chase completed the sentence.

Marge nodded.“It’s a pity, because he was very talented.”

“Willie did everything,” said Tex. “Electricity, heating, plumbing… When you wanted a wall stuccoed, Willie could do it in a flash. When your air conditioner broke down, he fixed it. He installed new windows, put in a new floor, driveway…”

“The man could do absolutely everything,” said Marge, nodding.

“So most people just put up with the occasional thing going missing,” Tex said with a shrug.

“But not us,” said Marge, “since the thing he stole when he worked at our house was very valuable to us.” She glanced to her husband, a little smile played about her lips.

“He stole one of my gnomes,” said Tex, and he wasn’t smiling.

Tex is a big fan of gnomes, you see, and when you touch his gnomes, you touch a nerve with the good doctor.

“Did he also have a reputation as a blackmailer?” asked Chase.

Marge frowned.“Blackmail? No, I never heard that.”

“Could be that lately he’d run out of customers,” Tex suggested, “and that he had to resort to some more illegal activities to supplement his income.”

“No matter how good you are at your job, at some point people get fed up,” Marge pointed out, “and stop hiring you.”

We moved to the house next door, where Kurt Mayfield lives, a retired music teacher. He seemed reluctant to talk to us, but when Chase reminded him that this was official police business, and not just a friendly neighborly chat across the fence, he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Up and down the street we could see other officers also conducting interviews with Willie Dornhauser’s neighbors, and Kurt frowned when he noticed all the activity. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Someone’s house got burgled last night?”

“No, Kurt, a neighbor was found dead this morning,” said Odelia.

“Dead!” The man’s eyes had gone wide. “Who?”

“Willie Dornhauser,” said Chase.

“Willie Dorn…,” said Kurt thoughtfully. “Oh, right—the handyman.”

“Did Willie ever do any work on your place, Kurt?” asked Chase.