0aeaa1e36e6f2e625b6ba8d48f773062

She suddenly became aware of a strange noise. It sounded like a kettle going on the boil, but when she looked over, she saw it wasn’t a kettle but Max!

“Hey, buddy,” she said. “Everything all right?”

“What. Was. On. That. VIDEO!” Max practically bellowed.

“Inquiring minds want to know,” Dooley added.

Oh, dear. Of course. Cats being the curious creatures that they are they must have been dying to find out what was going on, exactly.

“Can you access Randy’s phone?” she asked her boyfriend.

“Sure. I asked for his password—wait a minute… here we are. Why?” He followed her gaze and saw two pairs of cat’s eyes eagerly following their every move and smiled. “Of course.” Then his smile disappeared. “Are you sure you want to show them? This is not the kind of stuff they might like to see.”

“Oh, they’ve seen worse,” she assured her boyfriend.

“Yeah, but this is pretty gruesome.”

“You think? So maybe I shouldn’t—”

“SHOW US!” Max cried, and hopped up onto the chair, then onto the table, and practically slapped that phone from her hand!

“Okay, okay,” she said, and started the video that had given Randy such a fright.

The video started innocuous enough with an image of the front of a house. Though to call it a house was probably doing it a disservice, as it was a pretty fancy mansion with two white columns supporting a portico and a white wrought-iron gate out in front.

The person holding the camera panned along the house, and they could see that the lights inside were out. A gloved hand appeared into view and easily and expertly picked the front door lock with a lock picking instrument. It only took the person five seconds, according to the little timer appearing in the left bottom corner of the screen. A message flashed on the screen:‘I can get at you whenever and wherever I want, Randy!’

“Chilling,” Max murmured, intently watching the video.

“That person is definitely a better burglar than Gran, isn’t he, Odelia?” said Dooley.

“Yeah, he or she certainly is,” said Odelia with a smile. Her grandmother was probably the worst lock picker in the world.

The video showed a person’s shoes now, treading a soft carpet, and mounting a staircase. Moments later a large portrait came into view of Randy Hancock himself, dressed in his customary outfit, sitting on a throne and wearing a crown on his head.

“He seems to be very popular, doesn’t he, when people have posters of him on their walls,” Dooley remarked.

Odelia didn’t say anything, for she knew what was coming. A door was opened, once more by the same gloved hand, and suddenly they were in a bedroom. The camera panned the room, and then zoomed in on the bed… where Randy lay sleeping soundly.

‘See?’ a message flashed across the screen. ‘I can get at you any time, Randy!’

“Is that Randy?” asked Dooley, staring at the screen.

“Yes, it is,” said Odelia.

“But… why is that burglar in his bedroom?” The small gray cat’s voice had turned a little panicky. “What is he going to do with him?”

“You’ll see.”

“He’s not going to murder him, is he?” asked Dooley.

“If he had, Randy would be dead,” Max pointed out.

“Oh. Right.”

That same gloved hand now came out with what looked like a syringe, and suddenly, and before their eyes, plunged that syringe into Randy’s arm, then pressed down on the plunger. A liquid was injected into the sleeping man’s body.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” asked Dooley. “He must have felt that prick, right?”

“Randy thinks someone must have put something in his drink before he went to bed. He thinks a member of his staff might be in cahoots with whoever is doing this to him.”

“That’s not very nice,” said Dooley.

The syringe now appeared in closeup, and a line ran across the screen:‘This deadly toxin will kill you, Randy. You will be dead in five days. Unless you do as we tell you. Watch this space…’

And then the video abruptly cut out.

“Wow,” said Max. “So they injected him with a slow-acting poison and unless he cooperates it will kill him?”

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” said Odelia. “There is an antidote, that much is clear from the messages they’ve sent him, but they won’t give it to him unless…”

“Unless what?” asked Max.

She shrugged.“That, he doesn’t know. Yet.”

“They will probably be in touch again,” said Chase. “Probably with some kind of financial demand. And if he doesn’t pay, they won’t give him the antidote and Randy Hancock… will die.” He spoke in somber tones, as Randy was one of Chase’s heroes, and had always been, ever since he was a little boy.

“I don’t like this, Max,” Dooley said. “These are some very bad people.” He glanced up at the staircase. “And what if they come to our house now, and inject us with the same poison? Then we’ll all be dead in five days.”

“They won’t come here,” said Odelia. “Randy didn’t tell anyone he was coming to see us, and no one in his regular circle even knows we exist, or that Randy knows us.”

“We have to help him,” said Max. “The poor man is clearly scared, and at the end of his rope.”

“He looked better on the video you were watching before,” Dooley agreed.

“He hasn’t been feeling well,” said Odelia. “First he broke his pelvis and now this. It’s taken a great toll on him.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Max, never one to sit around twiddling his paws.

“I’m not sure what I can do. Chase will have that video and those messages examined by an old colleague of his at the NYPD.”

“What do you want us to do?”

She shrugged.“I have no idea. First we need to find out more about what’s going on.”

He nodded.“If you need us, just let us know, Odelia. Whatever we can do to help Mr. Hancock.”

“Thanks,” she said warmly, patting her cats on the head. “And sorry you had to see that video. Was it too disturbing for you guys?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Max. “It must have given him quite a shock. Knowing that a person was in your house, and injected you with poison.” He shivered. “Terrible business.”

It was, and the worst part was that she had no idea how to help Randy. She was a local reporter and amateur sleuth, but this stuff was way above her pay grade.

At least Chase would know what to do. And hopefully find these people and get Randy that antidote.

Randy now came down the stairs, still looking dazed.“I totally forgot,” he said, “but can Little Randy stay here, too? I should have asked before, but that video shook me.”

“Little Randy?” asked Odelia.

Randy pointed in the direction of the front door.“I left him in the car. Shall I go and get him?”

“Oh… sure,” she said.

Max and Dooley gave her a look of confusion.“Is he bringing another person to stay with us?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, probably his son,” she said. “Now I know you guys aren’t used to having kids around, but there’s no need to be scared. I’m sure Little Randy is a well-behaved little boy and…”

“And here he is,” said Randy as he walked back in followed by a very large… dog.

Chapter 8

“Hiya fellas,” said the dog, who was probably three times my size. “How are things?”

“Things are… fine,” I said, looking up at the dog and wondering in what universe this Randy would be considered ‘little.’

“Are you sure that you’re a dog, Little Randy?” asked Dooley.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” said Little Randy. “Well, my mom is a dog, and my dad is a dog, and all my brothers and sisters are dogs, so odds are that I’m a dog, too, little buddy. So what’s your name?”

“Dooley,” said Dooley.

“Max,” I said.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Max and Dooley,” said Little Randy and glanced around. “Nice place you’ve got here. So this is my new home away from home, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said, glancing up at Odelia. She was giving Little Randy a look of uncertainty. Clearly she hadn’t expected this either.

We shifted our attention to Chase, and I saw that the cop had an expression on his face of absolute and pure rapture. He was staring at Little Randy, and I could tell that this was love at first sight. A smidgen annoyed, for he’d never looked at me or Dooley like that, I said, “Looks like Chase has already fallen head over heels in love with our new housemate.”

“Chase has always been a dog person,” Dooley said. “And now he’s finally got what he always wanted. A big dog.”

Some men love small dogs, like Kurt Mayfield, our next-door neighbor, and others love big dogs. Chase definitely is in the latter category, and it didn’t take long for him to approach our new friend and start patting his head and making his acquaintance.

“He’s amazing,” he gushed. “How long have you had him?”

“Just three years,” said Randy. “I mainly got him for security reasons, but we’ve become very close. He’s my constant companion. I don’t go anywhere without my Little Randy.”

“What kind of dog is he?” asked Chase, taking in the big mutt with a doe-eyed look in his eyes.

“Irish Setter. Real family dog. Very affectionate.”

“This is a very small place you got here,” said Little Randy. “Are you sure this is all there is?”

“We have some more rooms upstairs,” I said, “and there’s the backyard, of course.”

“Oh, great. I need my space,” said the dog, and tripped over in the direction indicated. When he caught sight of the modest patch of green we like to call the backyard, he frowned. “So where is this backyard? Is it behind those bushes over there?”

“No, those bushes is where Odelia’s backyard ends and the field begins.”

“Please tell me the field belongs to your Odelia,” said Little Randy, looking disappointed.

“No, it belongs to someone else. I’m afraid this is it.”

“This is your backyard? But it’s so tiny!”

“Yeah, it’s not much but we like it,” I said a little defensively.

“Okay,” said the dog, and seemed to have to make some minor adjustments to his expectations. “So you all live in this tiny house and this tiny backyard… and you never get claustrophobic?”

“No, as a matter of fact we don’t,” I said.

“Do you have a very big house, Little Randy?” asked Dooley. “And a very big backyard?”

“Yeah, Randy’s house is 23,000 square feet, and is surrounded by forty acres of land. When I go for a walk I never leave the property, and it takes me a while to get around.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Don’t you ever get lost?” asked Dooley, fascinated. “I think I’d get lost all the time, if Odelia lived in a house that big.”

“No, I don’t get lost, Dooley,” said Little Randy with a smile. “And nor would you, since you’re a cat, and you have an innate sense of direction, same way dogs have.” He sighed and stretched out on the carpet that Odelia placed in front of the window for Dooley and me to lie on. “This will take some adjusting on my part, you guys. Which is not to say that your Odelia doesn’t have a lovely, lovely place, because she has—but tiny. Very, very tiny.”

I’d never actually given the size of our home a lot of thought. It suited me just fine, but probably Little Randy was right: we do live in a modest home, with a modest backyard. Then again, I’d seen bigger places, when Odelia worked a case for one of the many celebrities that live in the big mansions spread out in these parts, or along the ocean, and frankly I preferred our cozy little house to those giant dwellings, to be honest.

“So were you there when your human was attacked?” I now wanted to know.

“They drugged me,” said Little Randy, a sad look stealing over his face. “Can you believe that? They actually drugged me and I didn’t even notice.”

“How did they drug you?” asked Dooley. “Did they put something in your food?”

“I don’t think so. I think they probably spiked my water bowl. Though I can’t be sure. And by the time Randy found out what happened—when they started sending him those messages—it was too late.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My water bowl had already been rinsed and so had my food bowl.”

“Who did the rinsing?” I asked.

“Randy’s housekeeper.”

“Do you think she’s in on this plot?”

“Floralba is on the list of possible suspects,” the dog agreed. “Though why she would do it is beyond me. She’s been with Randy for thirty years, and has always treated him well, so…” He placed his head on his paws. “I guess with humans you just never know.”

Dooley and I retreated, deciding to give Little Randy some space.“He seems very sad,” Dooley whispered once we were out of earshot of the big dog. “Poor Little Randy.”

“I think he feels he let his human down,” I said. “By not protecting him against these people.”

“But he couldn’t protect Randy. The evil housekeeper drugged him!”

“We don’t know that, Dooley, so let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I think she did it, Max. Who else could it be?”

“Let’s just wait and see,” I said. I was pretty sure Odelia would ask us to come along to Randy’s house the following day, to start her investigation, and I liked to keep an open mind.

I glanced over to the sizable dog, and felt for him. And then I got an idea.“Why don’t we introduce Little Randy to Fifi and Rufus?” I suggested. “That way he won’t feel so alone.”

“Great idea, Max,” said Dooley enthusiastically.

It’s hard for a dog to make friends with a pair of cats, and if things gelled between our canine guest and our neighboring dogs, they could get him out of this funk.

Just then, Harriet waltzed in and said,“Still no sign of Brutus? Nothing?”

Dooley turned to me, looking aghast.“It’s the poisoners, Max! They took Brutus and poisoned him, too!”

Chapter 9

Dooley wasn’t entirely happy with this situation. He didn’t mind when Odelia solved her mysteries and asked her cats to tag along, but now she was actually courting danger. A man who was going to die in five days, and his dog who’d been poisoned… Who was to say the people behind this terrible, terrible crime wouldn’t find them and seek them out, too? And then they’d poison the entire household and they’d all die a gruesome death!

He knew how these poisoners operated. They didn’t mind if innocent bystanders like the Pooles or their cats got hit, too. And to die by poison just seemed like such an unpleasant way to go.

He shivered when he thought about it, and so when Harriet kept rambling on about Brutus who’d suddenly disappeared, he could clearly envision their friend lying in a ditch somewhere, alone and dying!

“I think we should tell Odelia we don’t want Randy here,” he now said. “It’s very nice of her to want to help her big fitness idol, but I don’t think it’s safe.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harriet. “What fitness idol?”

“Randy Hancock, of course,” said Dooley, “and he brought his dog, too, and once those poisoners get wind that he’s holed up here, they’ll come looking, and then they’ll poison all of us and then we’ll be dead and where will that leave us? Not in a good place!”

“Randy’s poisoners won’t be able to find us, Dooley,” said Max. “He made sure he wasn’t followed, and he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, so we’re perfectly safe.”

“I still don’t get it,” said Harriet, frowning in frustration. “Who is Randy and what…” She did a double take when she caught sight of Little Randy taking up an awful lot of space on the carpet by the window. “What… is…that!”

“That is Little Randy,” said Dooley. “He’s Randy’s dog, though he’s not very little, so I don’t know why he’s called that. He’s going to stay here for a while, even though he’s very sad because he couldn’t protect his human against the poison because the housekeeper spiked hiswater but then replaced it with fresh water before Randy could take it to the police.”

Harriet was staring from Dooley to Little Randy and back.“Dooley, you keep talking and I keep wondering when you will finally start making sense! What poison?!”

“The same poison that Brutus was fed,” said Dooley sadly, “and now he’s probably dying in some ditch somewhere, and by the time we find him he’ll be dead.”

This time Harriet was too horrified to allow for speech, which maybe was a good thing, as the prissy white Persian had a habit of talking a lot. Like, a whole lot.

“Randy Hancock is a fitness instructor,” said Max.

“He’s Odelia’s fitness instructor,” said Dooley. “Only not really—just on TV.”

“And someone injected him with poison and sent him a bunch of messages telling him he only has five days to live.”

“Four now,” said Dooley helpfully.

“They also sent him a video just now showing him how they did it.”

“A very scary video, with very scary music, and scary words written on it.”

“And now he wants Odelia to help him find out who’s behind this, and in the meantime he’ll be staying here and so will his dog.”

“Oh, God,” said Harriet. “Why does this keep happening to us!”

“Because our human is an amateur sleuth,” Dooley said. “And she likes to take on these hopeless cases.”

“Hopeless?” asked Harriet. “What makes you say that?”

“Because it’s clear that whoever gave Randy the poison wants him to die, and wants Little Randy to die, and wants us to die, too!”

“That’s not true, Dooley,” said Max. “If they wanted Randy to die, they’d have killed him when they had the chance. No, what they really want is money, most probably. In exchange for the antidote.”

“So why doesn’t Randy Hancock go to the police?” asked Harriet. “They’re the ones who should be chasing after these dangerous people, not Odelia—or us, for that matter.”

“Because the people that injected the poison told him not to go to the police,” said Max.

“They’re criminals!” said Harriet. “Of course they don’t want Randy to go to the police—but that’s no reason for him to drag us into his mess.”

Dooley thought Harriet was being a little bit selfish. It was true that Randy had landed them all in the soup, but he was also a nice person, and a good fitness guru, and his big dog Little Randy was very nice, too, and helping people and their pets was what Odelia liked to do. In fact she had made it her mission in life to help people. A little bit like Mother Teresa, but without the headscarf.

“I don’t like it either, Harriet,” he said now. “But maybe helping people is a good thing. Even though Odelia should probably have told Randy and Little Randy to go and stay in a hotel instead of here. But she has a big heart, and that’s why we all like her so much.”

Harriet stared at him.“You know, Dooley, just when I think you’re probably the dumbest cat alive, you say things that actually make sense.”

“Thanks, Harriet,” he said, grateful for the nice compliment. Though the thing about him being the dumbest cat alive somehow detracted a little from the rest of her words.

“So let me ask you again. Have you seen Brutus? And don’t give me this ‘Dying in a ditch somewhere’ nonsense, because I don’t buy that for one minute. Brutus is not the kind of cat who’d allow himself to be poisoned, and even if he were, he wouldn’t go and lie in some awful ditch but scream bloody murder and bring the whole house down.”

“Brutus is at the beach,” said Odelia, who just happened to be passing by just then, and overheard Harriet’s words. “Gran took him and his pet turtle to look at the ocean.”

“Pet turtle?” said Harriet. “What pet turtle!”

Odelia shrugged.“That’s all I know. I’m sorry, sweetie. Now do you want me to introduce you to Little Randy? I’m sure you’ll get along famously.”

“This is a nightmare,” Harriet grumbled, but allowed herself to be led to Little Randy, and dutifully said hi to the dog.

“This is going to be an interesting four days,” said Max.

“Three days and one night,” Dooley corrected him. But Max was right. Things looked to be hotting up at the Poole household. But then when were they ever not?

Chapter 10

Brutus, as Gran started on the drive home from the beach, felt a renewed sense of purpose now that he’d taken Pinkie under his wing. Of course he felt responsible for Harriet’s wellbeing, and to a lesser extent Max and Dooley, but he’d never had a living creature being so dependent on him as this turtle. She was looking at him with those tiny eyes of hers, filled with gratitude and awe at the selfless way he’d taken on her case.

It took a lot for a tough cat like Brutus to experience those mellow feelings often associated with heroes like firefighters or even doctors and medical professionals fighting for people’s lives on a daily basis, but the look on Pinkie’s face definitely did it for him. It totally melted the heart of this tough cat, and oddly enough, he liked it!

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Pinkie,” he said now, patting the tiny turtle on the back. “We’ll find those friends of yours and we’ll save them—or my name isn’t Brutus.”

“Your name isn’t Brutus?” asked Pinkie surprised.

“No, it is. What I meant to say was that—”

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Gran as she steered them through traffic.

“Well, Pinkie here says that her friends are having an awful time at the pond, and now she wants me to help them escape.”

“Escape the pond? What pond? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I told Pinkie I’d help her, and so I will.”

“Better you than me, pal,” Gran grunted. “So where is this pond?”

“I’m sure Pinkie will take me there in due course, isn’t that right, Pinkie?”

“We better wait until dark,” said Pinkie. “There are always less people around when it’s dark.”

“People?” he asked. “What people?”

“Well, the pond guards, of course.”

For some reason, as he listened to Pinkie talk about pond guards, he had the distinct impression he’d managed to get himself involved in something he probably shouldn’t have gotten involved in.

Too late to back out now, though.

“Oh, before I forget, Odelia just texted me. She and Chase have a guest,” Gran said. “And her guest is none other than… Randy Hancock!”

“Who?”

“Randy Hancock. The fitness guy?”

“Never heard of him,” Brutus intimated.

“He’s been poisoned, and now Odelia wants to find out who did it, and how to get the poison out of his system before it kills him. Oh, and he’s brought his dog along, so it looks like you’ve got company, buddy.”

First a turtle, then a fitness guy and his dog? What was next? Edgar Allan Poe and his pet raven?“So will you help Odelia save this man’s life?” he asked.

“Nah. Got other fish to fry,” said Gran, much to Brutus’s surprise.

“What fish?” And why fry a fish when you could simply eat it raw?

“Scarlett just told me Wilbur Vickery is sweet on me, and I’ve decided to go out on a date with him.” Gran was grinning a little strangely, Brutus thought. In fact she was a lot more chipper than she usually was.

“A date?” he asked. “You’re going on a date?”

“Yeah, go figure, right? Last time I dated a guy he turned out to be a real dud. And even though Wilbur isn’t exactly a catch, it never hurts to see what happens. Hey, maybe we’ll hit it off. If my son can find love at his age, maybe I can, too, huh?”

“Oh, sure,” said Brutus. “Go for it, Gran.”

“Yep. I’ll give it my best shot. And if it turns out Wilbur is a dud, too, no harm done.”

And then she actually started singing! Brutus, who’d never heard Gran sing before, looked at her a little uncertainly. This was a Gran he didn’t know. A pleasant and cheerful Gran. A Gran, in other words, who wasn’t like Gran at all.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Tex had just said goodbye to his final patient for the day, and wondered now, not for the first time, where his receptionist could have gone off to.

When he’d decided to give his mother-in-law Vesta a chance to earn a little extra working for his doctor’s office as a receptionist, he hadn’t exactly banked on her playing hooky half the time—or all of the time. He’d agreed with his wife that Vesta could use something to keep her hands and her mind busy and out of trouble. But the last time she’d actually spent time greeting his patients and picking up the phone and taking care of his appointment book was probably a fortnight ago now.

So maybe, he thought as he closed the door of his office, it was time to hire a real receptionist, and replace the unreliable one he had now with an actual pro.

It sure would make his life a lot easier. First off, it would lessen his load, and secondly, he would never again have to look at Vesta’s grumpy face staring back at him from behind her desk, if she decided to look up from her game of Solitaire, that is.

And as he started on his short trek home, the thought of getting rid of Vesta once and for all cheered him up to such an extent that he was smiling widely before him by the time he turned the corner and entered the last stretch. The road home took him past the dog park, and he saw now that both of his neighbors were walking their respective dogs.

So he waved, like any neighborly neighbor would, to Kurt and Ted, who both blithely ignored him, Kurt because he was Kurt, and Ted because the accountant was probably legally blind after spending an entire career looking at numbers on a computer screen.

Tex’s cheerfulness diminished only to a slight extent, then increased again when he saw that Marge had arrived home before him.

Marge, who worked at the local library, would probably not be all that happy when she heard the news about her mom being out of a job at the age of seventy-five, but she would understand. Of that Tex was sure.

“Honey, I’m home!” he hollered as he entered the house. It was a lame joke, but never failed to put a smile on his face.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Marge yelled back.

He joined her there, and kissed her on the temple. Marge stood staring into the fridge, probably wondering when all those stories about a smart fridge ordering food all by itself would finally come true.

“Vesta didn’t show up again today,” he said, deciding to launch into his story straight off the bat. “So I’m thinking, honey, that it’s time to finally let her go and hire a real receptionist for the office. What do you think?”

“Did you know that Randy Hancock is staying next door?” asked his wife. “I mean, Randy Hancock, Tex—the Randy Hancock!”

“Oh?” he said, not all that interested in the fitness guru. “I didn’t know he gave private lessons.”

“He doesn’t. He’s been poisoned, and now he wants Odelia to try and save his life. Can you believe that? Randy Hancock!”

“Poisoned? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know all the details, but it looks like someone is blackmailing him. They told him he only has a couple of days to live, and if he doesn’t do what they tell him, they won’t give him the antidote.”

Marge was looking much too bright and cheerful to be telling such a gruesome story, but then she’d always had a thing for Randy Hancock. Tex, on the other hand, could take Randy Hancock or he could leave him. “Did you hear what I just said about your mother? She didn’t show up again.”

But Marge was clearly not listening. Instead she was staring out the kitchen window with a strange look on her face.“Odelia has invited us over. What do you think I should wear? Something sporty, or completely the opposite? Something really fancy?” She turned to him and fluffed up her hair. “How do I look?”

“Great,” he said.

“I was thinking maybe to have my hair done. Do you think Fido would be able to squeeze me in?”

Fido Siniawski was their local hairdresser, and a miracle worker when it came to all things hair-related.

“Um, I guess so,” he said, not exactly up to date on Fido’s schedule. “Though if what you’re saying is true, and Mr. Hancock only has a couple more days to live, I’m not sure he’ll be all that interested in what your hair looks like, Marge.”

His wife gave him a look of disappointment.“I want to look good for Randy, Tex. Is that so hard to understand? He’s a celebrity!”

An almost-dead celebrity, he wanted to point out, but didn’t. “So isn’t this whole setup extremely dangerous for Odelia and Chase?”

“Nobody knows Randy is staying next door,” said Marge. “So it’s all perfectly safe.”

“What poison did they use?” he asked, his professional interest piqued.

“I don’t know.” Then her eyes went wide. “Oh, Tex—you could examine him! You could find out what poison is being used and you could save Randy Hancock’s life!”

“I’m not sure…”

“Oh, please do it for me, honey! Please!”

“I could take a look,” said Tex. “Though what he needs to do is go to the nearest hospital where he can be thoroughly checked out—blood work, tissue samples, the whole enchilada.”

“Can’t you do all that?”

“I don’t have the equipment, honey.” And he wasn’t exactly qualified to look for little-known poisons having been injected into this fitness star’s bloodstream. But when Marge’s face fell, he said, “I could have a look, though. But only if Randy wants me to.”

“Oh, Tex! Thank you! Of course Randy will want you to. Why wouldn’t he?”

And then she disappeared upstairs, presumably to look for something to wear for this special occasion. Looked like the story of Vesta’s imminent dismissal would have to wait.

Chapter 11

I know that Odelia had told us Brutus had gone walkabout with his pet turtle, but I was still happy to see him arrive home safe and sound… with the pet turtle in question.

“Brutus!” Harriet cried the moment she laid eyes on him. “I’m so happy you’re all right!”

“Of course I’m all right,” said the black cat. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” He looked genuinely surprised that anyone would think that he wasn’t all right.

“Oh, honey bunny,” said Harriet, and nudged up against him, purring up a storm. But then she caught sight of that turtle, and her purrs immediately stopped as if turned off at the tap. “What is that!” she cried, aghast.

“You guys, this is Pinkie,” said Brutus proudly. “Pinkie, meet the rest of the gang: Harriet, Max and Dooley.”

“Hi, guys,” said the tiny turtle, and I could have sworn she gave us a little wave of the leg, or the hand, or whatever turtles use to get around.

Harriet gawked at the tiny green thing, and then at Brutus, and her look wasn’t at all dripping with the milk of feline kindness I can tell you. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Why would you take a pet, Brutus—you are a pet!”

“I’m not Brutus’s pet, Harriet,” Pinkie pointed out. “I’m his friend, and he’s promised me to help save my other friends.”

“Pinkie used to live in a pond,” Brutus explained. “But that was before she escaped. And now she wants me to help her secure the escape of all the other turtles.”

“I don’t get it,” Harriet repeated, and quite frankly neither did I.

“Why did you want to escape your pond, Pinkie?” asked Dooley. “Didn’t you like it there?”

“Like I already told Brutus, I liked the company,” said Pinkie. “But I didn’t like the place, or the people running the pond.”

“How do you run a pond?” asked Dooley, mystified.

“Badly,” said Pinkie. “At least the people running it now are up to no good, which is why I want to free my friends. That way we can all go to the ocean and finally be free!”

“Oh, all right,” said Dooley, but it was clear from the look on his face he still didn’t understand a thing.

Brutus had spotted Little Randy, still lounging in the same spot where he’d dropped upon his arrival. “So is that Little Randy?” he asked. “Gran told me all about what happened,” he explained. “Something about a fitness star who’s been poisoned and decided to come and stay with us until Odelia can find him his antidote.”

Gran had explained things well, and I wondered where the white-haired old lady herself was.“Where is Gran?” I asked.

“She’s probably getting ready for her date,” said Brutus casually, earning himself three gasps of shock from yours truly, Dooley, and Harriet. Pinkie wasn’t gasping, in shock or otherwise, but then she hadn’t known Gran all that long.

“A date?” asked Harriet. “What date?”

“A date with Wilbur Vickery,” said Brutus, who seemed to enjoy being at the center of attention for once.

“This is terrible news,” said Harriet. “Wilbur Vickery is the worst possible match for Gran—the absolute worst!”

“I don’t know,” said Brutus. “He’s younger than Gran, which is probably a good thing.”

“They call younger men who date older women toy boys,” said Dooley. “Or boy toys.”

“Please let’s not go there again,” said Harriet, holding up a paw.

Once upon a not so long ago Gran had dated a boy toy—or toy boy—or at least pretended she had, and he’d dumped her. Besides, Wilbur didn’t look like a boy toy to me. He actually looked older than Gran, even though he was younger. Wilbur Vickery runs the General Store, and is also a member of the neighborhood watch Gran operates. I guess sitting in cars together for their regular stakeouts, and going on patrols together must have lit the spark that had led to this unexpected romance.

“If Gran dates Wilbur, and the two of them hit it off, it’s not inconceivable that they’ll want to move in together,” said Harriet. “And when they do, it means she’ll move out.”

That hadn’t occurred to me, or Brutus—or Dooley. “Gran move out? But why!” Dooley cried. Gran is his human, you see, which means if she moves out—he moves out, too!

“It’s only natural that when two people are in love, they want to live together,” Harriet explained with a shrug.

“But can’t they move in next door?” asked Brutus.

“Do you really think Wilbur would want to live under the same roof as Tex and Marge? He’s got his own place, Brutus. And he’ll want to live there with Gran. Have some privacy—like any young couple would.”

“They’re not exactly what I would call a young couple,” I said. “Gran is seventy-five, and Wilbur is probably sixty-eight or so. Not exactly two spring chickens!

“Look, all I’m saying is that things are about to change around here,” said Harriet. “And I think it’s only sensible to be prepared. So when the announcement is made we’re not caught by surprise.” She eyed my friend closely. “And Dooley is ready to move out.”

“But I don’t want to move out!” said Dooley. “I like it here. I don’t want to go and live with Wilbur… and Kingman.”

Kingman is Wilbur’s piebald. He’s very large and very nice, but maybe not the best housemate to have around, especially since he’s something of a ladies’ cat. And ladies’ cats are only interested in finding themselves a wingcat so they can go and chase lady cats together. And let me just say that Dooley is not exactly wingcat material.

“Max, I don’t want to go,” said my friend now, giving me a panicky look. “They can’t make me, can they?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “Gran hasn’t even gone out with Wilbur once. And chances are they won’t hit it off, let alone decide to move in together.”

“If I know humans, though,” said Harriet, “and I think I do, things can move very quickly. First date today, marriage tomorrow, and buying a place of their own the next day.” She cocked an eyebrow at Dooley. “So better start packing up, little buddy. Cause your human might be moving housein exactly three days.”

“Well, she can’t,” said Dooley. “Because in three days Randy will die, and a wedding and a funeral can’t happen on the same day. There’s rules about that kind of thing.”

Little Randy, who’d pricked up his ears at the mention of the word funeral, now came trotting over. “What’s all this about a funeral?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Dooley quickly.

“Your human will do whatever she can to save my human, right?”

“Oh, sure,” said Dooley. “Odelia is the best at what she does. The very best.”

“He’s right,” I said. “If anyone can save your human’s life it’s our human.”

“Good,” said Little Randy. “Cause if Randy dies, I’m sure he’ll ask your human to adopt me. Which means I’d be sticking around indefinitely.” And with these words, he trotted off again, then plunked himself down in the exact same spot he’d vacated.

Dooley gave me a look of alarm.“You know, Max,” he now whispered, “maybe when Gran moves out, and I move out, you can move out, too. That way we’ll still be together—but not here!”

“I heard that!” said Little Randy. “And if you want to get rid of me, cat, all you have to do is save my human from certain death!”

Oh, boy. Suddenly things were getting very complicated, weren’t they?

Chapter 12

Tex found himself in a bit of a pickle. How do you fire your mother-in-law, even if she never shows up for work, and you have every reason in the world to send her packing?

And as he sat down for dinner, along with his wife and Vesta, he was brooding on how to broach the subject all through the degustation of his meatloaf, his fried potatoes, and his onion rings with mustard sauce. To the extent that Marge said at a certain point,“It’s that bad, huh?”

He looked up.“Mh?”

“You’ve said nothing all through dinner, honey. So it must be worse than I thought.”

“Well, that depends,” he said cautiously. For him it would be wonderful not having to work with his unreliable and crusty mother-in-law anymore. For Vesta it would mean taking a pay cut. “But I think it’s all for the best, don’t you?”

“For the best! Don’t you think it’s horrible to have to go at such a young age?”

“Some people go a lot sooner, honey.” In fact he didn’t know anyone who still worked at the age of seventy-five—if you could call what Vesta did work, of course.

“Still,” said Marge, idly pushing a piece of meatloaf around her plate with a fork. “A lot of people will be very sad. I will be very sad. Though I will always have the videos, of course. They’re putting them all on YouTube now, which is great.”

He stared at his wife, then remembered that Vesta had once launched her own YouTube channel. Though nothing much had come of it, as with most projects she started and promptly deserted.“Yeah, you’ll always have the videos,” he agreed, with as much tact as he could muster.

“What are you talking about?” suddenly asked Vesta.

“Oh, nothing special,” said Tex, not feeling ready to launch into a discussion about Vesta’s lack of work ethic right now.

“I don’t know what this world is coming to,” said Marge, shaking her head sadly. “When people can simply plant a knife in another person’s back like that. Especially a person as well liked and popular as—”

“What knife? What back? Will you talk straight for once?” said Vesta.

“I don’t think we need to go into all this right now,” said Tex. “Let’s enjoy a nice dinner, and we can get into all of that stuff later.” He smiled. “Bad for the digestion to talk business during dinner.”

“You’re absolutely right, honey,” said Marge. “It’s just that I find it hard to forget about what happened. It’s all so incredibly sad.”

Tex gulped a little. When you’re about to fire your mother-in-law from her position and your wife starts talking about knives planted in backs and how sad the whole thing is, it’s tough for a sensitive man to enjoy his meatloaf. Moreover, Vesta was eyeing him with suspicion now.

“You’re not thinking about getting rid of me again, are you, Tex? You tried it once and it didn’t work, so I hope you learned your lesson.”

Marge laughed.“Oh, Ma. Of course Tex doesn’t want to get rid of you. He values your input too much. Besides, how is he going to run his office without you? It’s impossible.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Vesta, slightly mollified. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come in today, Tex. I had something going on.”

“That’s all right,” said Tex solemnly. “I managed.”

“You always do, don’t you,” said Marge, casting him a loving glance. “He’s such a wonder man, my Dr. Poole. So when do you want to do this, honey? Right after dinner?”

“Yeah… Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” he said, starting to feel a little hot under his collar now.

“What’s going on?” asked Vesta. “What are these after-dinner plans you’re talking about?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Marge.

“No, you didn’t,” said Vesta, a little acerbically. “And for your information, I’ve got plans, too, so whatever it is you’ve got planned, you can count me out.”

“Plans? What plans?”

“I’m going out tonight. On a hot date.”

“A date!” Marge shot a quick glance to her husband, who merely shrugged. Your mom is a grown woman, that shrug said. She can do whatever she wants with whomever she wants.

“So who is it?” asked Marge.

“Wilbur Vickery. Scarlett said he’s sweet on me, can you imagine?”

Tex could not, in any universe, imagine any man being sweet on Vesta. It was one of those things that boggled the mind. Then again, Wilbur Vickery wasn’t exactly the world’s most eligible bachelor. On the contrary—women probably ran a mile when he went down on one knee, and the producers of either The Bachelor or The Bachelorette would never ask him to feature on their show.

“He’s taking me to the movies. He suggested dinner at No Spring Chicks but I told him maybe for our second date. I need to get the lay of the land first. Feel him out.”

“Fancy,” said Marge, looking distinctly unhappy about the prospect of her mom entering the dating world again at her age.

“Yeah, he owns his own business so he’s probably loaded. So he can afford to splurge on the love of his life.”

“The love of his life!” said Marge, laughing nervously. “You’re not serious.”

“And what if I am?” said Vesta censoriously. “Someone has to be the love of that man’s life, and it might just as well be me. Look, I know he’s a good deal younger, and I know plenty of people will take offense, but some men prefer riper women, and Wilbur is one of those men.” She smiled before her, a dreamy look in her eye. “The things I can teach that boy…”

“Ma!” said Marge, horrified at the implication that her mother planned to go beyond first base on her first date.

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Marge. I was talking about the neighborhood watch. After the movie we’re going patrolling together. It’ll be so much fun.”

Only Vesta would take a man patrolling on their first date, Tex thought. Then again, hope was starting to surge at this unexpected development. If things worked out between the two young lovers, they might want to move in together, which meant he’d finally, after all these long years, have his home to himself again.

He cleared his throat.“So… you like Wilbur, huh?”

Vesta shrugged.“I guess he’s all right. At my age you can’t be picky, so I’m going to give it a shot and see what happens.” She got up from the table and wiped her lips with her napkin then threw it down. “Don’t wait up. I’ll probably be pretty late.” And with a slight grin, she disappeared upstairs.

Marge and Tex shared a look of surprise.“So Vesta is dating again,” said Tex finally.

“I don’t know what to think of it,” said his wife. “Wilbur is not exactly the guy I thought she’d fall for.”

“She hasn’t exactly fallen for him, though, has she? Sounds more like a marriage of convenience to me.”

“Marriage?” asked Marge, her eyes wide. “Do you really think they’ll get married?”

He shrugged.“Who knows? If they really fancy each other, anything could happen.” And hopefully it would. Also, if Wilbur and Vesta got hitched, Vesta would probably want to help her new husband out at his store. Which would make it unnecessary for Tex to get rid of her now—saving him the aggravation. In other words: a real win-win.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” said Marge. “First Odelia is getting married, then my brother, and now Vesta! Three weddings in one year! It’s too much, Tex!”

“We don’t know if your brother wants to get married,” said Tex soothingly. Alec and Charlene’s marriage had been announced in the Gazette, but that had merely been a ruse. And since neither the Chief of Police or the Mayor had mentioned the M word since, Tex didn’t think they’d go through with it.

“Everybody’s getting married and we’re staying behind, Tex,” said Marge sadly.

“That’s because we’re already married,” he pointed out.

“You know what I mean.”

Actually he didn’t, but by that time Vesta was stomping down the stairs again, and this time she was wearing an actual dress, something Tex hadn’t seen her in since… probably ever!

“How do I look?” asked Vesta, twirling around and looking as prim and happy as a blushing bride.

“You look great,” said Marge.

“Try not to sound so surprised, Marge,” said Vesta. “See you later. Oh, and don’t forget to tape my show, Tex.”

“I won’t forget,” he said, and watched the bane of his existence practically skip out of the house—and very soon, he hoped, out of his life!

Chapter 13

Randy Hancock looked in the full-length mirror and thought he looked pretty decent for his age. At sixty-five most men had lost their youthful good looks, but he was still as slim and trim as he’d ever been. And in spite of the fact that he hadn’t worked out in a long time, he felt pretty healthy, too. Plus, and this was a big plus, he still had all his hair!

Then again, he had devoted his entire life to staying in shape and probably his body was still enjoying the residual effects of having worked out for several decades.

And he was just standing on one leg and raising the other one as high as he could when his phone chimed. He sat down on the bed in this, his new home away from home, and frowned at the message. It was from the same number the video had come from, and read:‘Time to get real, Randy. Transfer ten million dollars into the following account and I’ll deliver the antidote. Failure to comply will result in certain death. Do or die time, booby!’

“Oh, dear,” he muttered. He immediately got up and bellowed, “Chase! Chase, honey, I just got another one of those horrible messages!” He found the cop in his bedroom, folding laundry and neatly placing it in a drawer. He smiled at the sight of the amazing glutes the man had. “You work out a lot, don’t you?” he said, a soft purr in his voice now.

Chase looked up, surprised that he was no longer alone.“Oh, hi, Randy,” he said.

“You can call me Ran-Ran, big boy,” said the fitness legend as he leaned against the doorframe. “So is it true what they say about cops?”

“What?”

“That you always carry a concealed weapon between your thighs? No, don’t answer that,” he said, closing his eyes. He shouldn’t give in to temptation when circumstances were as dire as they were. “I got another message,” he said, holding out his phone.

Chase took the phone and glanced at the message, then whistled through his teeth.“Ten million dollars. Have you got that kind of money… Ran-Ran?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve got the money, but I don’t want to give it to these horrible people. I worked for that money. It’s my money, and they’re trying to steal it from me. So what do I do, Chase?” He’d sidled up to the cop and now read along with him on the phone, taking in the muscular cop’s body odor, which was musky and really, really nice. “What do you recommend?”

“I talked to one of my former colleagues,” said Chase, “and sent her the video and the messages. She’s promised to take a look and hopefully she’ll be able to tell me who sent them.”

“Oh, that would be so nice,” he said, reaching out a tentative finger to touch the man’s bulging bicep then thinking better of it. “And when do you think you’ll be able to make an arrest? Cause I don’t know if you’ve been following along but I only have three days left to live, Chase—is that what your friends call you? Or is it Chasey?”

“No, Chase is fine,” said the cop, glancing at his celebrity guest a little uncertainly.

Randy got the hint and stepped back, holding up his hands.“I’m invading your personal space, aren’t I? Apologies, Chase. Force of habit. When you teach an aerobics class you get into people’s personal space all the time. You need to get down and dirty if you want to improve people’s… posture.” My, the cop had amazing posture. Ramrod straight, extremely developed musculature, the works. A perfect specimen in every respect. “You know, when this is all over, would you mind taping a video with me?”

Chase cocked a curious eyebrow.“A video.”

“Not that kind of video, you naughty boy!” said Randy with a laugh. “A fitness video! I think you’d make an excellent model. Seeing as my own body has decided to fail me, I was thinking of assuming a role behind the scenes from now on. Direct fitness models. Like you!”

“I thought you wanted to retire?”

“Oh, sure. This would just be a passion project.”

“I don’t know, Ran-Ran,” said Chase. “I’m a cop, not a model.”

“So what? You could be a copand a model!”

Just then, Odelia breezed into the room, and Randy took another step back. Somehow the cop’s animal magnetism kept pulling him in—like a homing pigeon!

“I heard shouting,” said the reporter. “Is everything all right?” She glanced from Randy to Chase and frowned. Of course, thought Randy. She probably felt the sexual tension, all that sweet testosterone going through the roof!

He felt a little embarrassed. There he was, asking for this lovely young couple’s help, and all he could think about was what a handsome hunk Chase Kingsley was!

“Randy got another message,” said Chase, handing the phone to his girlfriend. “This time they’ve actually shown their hand: they want money. A lot of money.”

“Ten million!” said Odelia, and turned to the fitness star. “How do they know you have this kind of money?”

“I don’t know how they know, but they do,” he said simply, studying one of the many rings on his fingers. He looked up. “Oh, you mean that they must be someone I know?”

“Could be your accountant, manager, a business partner…” She thought for a moment. “Could you maybe make a list for me of all the people who know how much you’re worth—financially I mean? Tomorrow first thing I’ll start investigating these people.”

“I can tell you right now,” he said. “My manager Saul Garter, of course, my accountant Peggy Brook. I don’t have a business partner. And, um… Well, there’s my sister Anne. We’re very close so she knows a lot about my business and private affairs.”

“Can you write down their names and numbers?”

“Of course,” he said, giving her a look of admiration. “Will you look at you, going all amateur sleuth on me.”

“That’s why you came to me, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes, but I never thought…” He closed his mouth. He’d almost said too much. It was the presence of hunky Mr. McHunky. He made his mind get all scrambled up.

“How did you arrive on my doorstep if I may ask?” said Odelia. “Did someone give you my name?”

“Well, I was a huge fan of Passion Island,” said Randy. “And I followed what happened with those disappearances very closely.”

Odelia nodded.“That case got a lot of publicity.”

“It did! And you did such a good job finding those women, and exposing that abduction ring. So when I got that video, I just figured Odelia Poole is the person I need to find. She’s the only one who can help me—discreetly!”

“Don’t worry, Ran-Ran,” said Chase, placing his large and very warm hands on the fitness icon’s shoulders and giving them a tight squeeze. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this thing and we’re going to get you that antidote or my name isn’t Chase Kingsley.”

“Chase Kingsley,” he muttered in unison with the cop’s words, shivering a little.

“You’re shivering,” said Chase with a frown.

“Yeah, you look a little feverish,” Odelia chimed in.

He couldn’t tell them he was feeling feverish from that amazing man’s touch, now could he. So instead he said, “I guess I probably need to lie down. This ransom demand business has hit me harder than I thought.” And with a weak smile, he excused himself and returned to his room. Oh, he needed to liedown, all right. But not from the message but from Chase’s impromptu massage!

Chapter 14

Dooley was not himself as we traversed the streets of Hampton Cove on our way to the park for cat choir. He was looking a little dazed, and I thought I knew why.

“I’m sure Gran and Wilbur won’t get married,” I said now, in an effort to cheer him up. “You know Gran. She’s an independent woman, and not the marrying kind at all.”

“You really think so, Max?” said Dooley, hope visibly surging as he eyed me excitedly. “You really think they will go on one date and that’s it?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Gran has been on many dates, if you recall, and she’s never once mentioned the word marriage.”

“She was with this Leo guy,” said Dooley, nodding furiously. “And this Dick guy, and this Rock guy. And she never said she’d marry any of them. Not even once.”

Gran had gone out with many eligible bachelors over the years, but always found something about them she didn’t like. And knowing Wilbur, Gran would soon find fault with him, too.

“I think Gran is after Wilbur for his money,” said Brutus. “Wilbur is probably loaded. And Gran loves money. Remember how she claimed the inheritance of the Most Fascinating Man in the World? She was even going to live in his mansion in Colorado.”

I remembered. It hadn’t been Gran’s finest hour, and even less so when she’d started quarreling with Scarlett, who’d made the exact same claim against the dead man’s fortune.

“I think Gran just wants some company,” said Harriet, striking the romantic note. “She is, after all, a woman all by herself. Even though she has a loving family and four loving cats, she probably wants a man to hold her close at night, and to talk about what her day has been like.” She sighed. “I’m just afraid she won’t find that kind of companionship with Wilbur.”

We’d arrived at the park, and I could see that cat choir was going to be a crowded affair. Officially the gathering is designed to give us an opportunity to practice our singing skills, and maybe even take our show on the road—though Shanille, cat choir’s conductor, feels we’re not ready yet to sing in front of an audience. I happen to agree.

I saw how Dooley made a beeline for Kingman, Wilbur Vickery’s piebald. “Kingman!” said Dooley anxiously. “My human and your human are dating. Did you know?”

Kingman looked slightly taken aback by this piece of news.“Dating? What are you talking about?”

“Gran and Wilbur—they’re dating! And there’s even talk of marriage! Which means that you and I…” He swallowed. “You and I… might be brothers in the near future!”

Kingman darted a curious glance at me, and I shrugged.“They are dating,” I confirmed, “but I haven’t heard anything about a wedding being planned.”

“Are you sure?” said Kingman. “Cause Wilbur usually doesn’t date anyone over the age of fifty. I even heard him tell Mayor Butterwick once that if she wanted to snag him she needed to hurry up. She’s forty-eight, see, and he told her she only has two years left before she reaches the cutoff point.”

“What did she say?” I asked, curious.

“She slapped him across the face,” said Kingman with a grin. “Which happens a lot, actually. Wilbur isn’t what you might call a ladies’ man. In fact you might call him an anti-ladies’ man. Not a chick magnet, if you see what I mean, but a chick repellent.”

“Yeah, I don’t really see this whole affair going anywhere,” I confided in Kingman. I glanced around, and saw that Harriet and Brutus were chatting with Shanille, possibly arranging Gran’s wedding, as Shanille is Father Reilly’s cat. “As far as I understand, Scarlett set the whole thingup. And she’s not exactly the world’s best matchmaker.”

“Scarlett set this up?” said Kingman, his smile widening. “This will not end well, boys. I see another slap in the face in Wilbur’s future. Two slaps, probably, as Vesta Muffin has two good hands on her.”

And it was with this takeaway that we assumed our positions, and moments later choir practice began. Dooley, who seemed more or less reassured by Kingman’s words, sang his little heart out, and so did I. And when it finally came time for Harriet’s big solo, she opted to sing the tune from Titanic for some reason. Possibly she had romance on her mind—a word no one has ever associated with Gran, except apparently Harriet.

When rehearsals were over, Shanille approached me, a serious look on her face.“Max, we need to talk,” she said, and led me away from the throng for a private word. “Harriet tells me Gran and Wilbur are getting married. Is this true?”

“I think it’s a little early to start ringing the wedding bells,” I said with a smile. “They’re going on their first date, that much is true, but beyond that who knows what will happen.”

Shanille nodded seriously.“I think it behooves us to start taking some preliminary steps,” she said. “You know what humans are like. Today the love light appears in their eyes, and tomorrow they’re already talking to Father Reilly and setting a date for the wedding. So I was thinking that you and Dooley and Harriet and Brutus could act as flower cats, and so can Kingman. You know,” she added when I merely stared at her. “You walk behind the bride and groom, festooned with flowers. It’ll look lovely, trust me. And one of you will have to carry the veil—which might prove a little hard,” she said, more to herself than to me, “as you can’t actually carry the veil. Unless… Oh, I’ve got it! You can carry the veil between your teeth. So do you want to do the honors, or Dooley? Probably Dooley, right? He’s Gran’s cat, after all. Dooley!” she bellowed before I could stop her.

“What is it?” asked Dooley as he came tripping up anxiously.

“Here, hold this,” said Shanille, and promptly stuck a piece of paper she’d found on the ground between Dooley’s teeth. “Now walk for me,” she instructed.

Dooley stared at me, but then did as Shanille had instructed and walked.

“Very cute,” said Shanille, nodding. “Though you need practice. Why don’t we meet tomorrow at the church and we can discuss this in detail.” And before I could protest, she’d already turned on her heel and was stalking off, looking every inch the busy choir leader that she was.

Dooley stared at me, then dropped the piece of paper, which was a flyer for one of Randy Hancock’s fitness videos I now saw.

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

“Um…” I didn’t really want to get into it, as I was pretty sure it would only serve to upset him. But then Shanille suddenly returned and said, “Practice at home if you can, Dooley. If you’re going to be Vesta and Wilbur’s flower cat and official veil carrier at the wedding, you need to practice, practice, practice!” And then she was off again.

Dooley slowly turned to me, his face falling.“Max!” he cried. “Gran is getting married!”

Chapter 15

If Odelia thought their new guest’s behavior was a little strange, she decided not to show it. The man was probably under such a great deal of pressure he wasn’t acting normal.

She’d arrived downstairs to surf on her laptop and prepare for tomorrow’s interviews. Before she could dig into her interviewee’s profiles, though, her mom and dad dropped by, with Mom carrying a boxy VHS tape that looked really ancient.

“Is he here?” asked Mom, keeping her voice down as one does when visiting a sickly patient laid up in bed. “I thought Tex could take a look at Randy and maybe find out what kind of poison they used on him.”

“I already told you, honey,” said Dad. “If he wants to know what poison was administered he needs to go to the hospital so they can run the appropriate tests.”

“All I’m asking is for you to take a look, Tex,” said Mom, sounding a little irritable. “You are a doctor, aren’t you?”

“That, I am,” said Dad with a slight sigh.

“So where is he?” asked Mom, more insistent. She held up the VHS tape. “I thought I’d ask him to sign my tape.”

“He’s upstairs resting,” said Odelia. “He received another message, this time asking for money in exchange for the antidote.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mom, clutching a hand to her face. “How much do they want?”

“Ten million dollars.”

“Ten million dollars!” said Mom, her eyes sparkling. “You know what? If you don’t mind I’ll go and see him. The poor man is probably feeling blue.” And before Odelia could stop her, she was already on her way upstairs.

“She hasn’t stopped talking about Randy,” said Dad morosely. “It’s Randy this and Randy that. She’s obsessed with that man.”

“Do you think you can help him?” asked Odelia. “With the poisoning I mean?”

“I can take a look,” said Dad reluctantly. “Why did he come to you?”

“He saw me on the news when I helped solve the Passion Island case.”

“You’re really making a name for yourself as a detective, honey,” said her dad, sounding proud. “Maybe you should quit the paper and go into business for yourself?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Odelia with a smile. “I’m not a detective, Dad. I’m a reporter, and if from time to time I can do my bit to help solve a case, that’s gravy. But I’m not going to start a detective agency so I can lurk in bushes trying to catch unfaithful spouses.”

“Yeah, I guess most detective work comes down to that, doesn’t it?”

“That and corporate espionage. And I’m not interested.”

“Listen—I wanted to ask your advice. I was thinking about hiring a receptionist. A real receptionist this time.”

“And fire Gran?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

“I think you should probably do what you think is right, Dad.”

“Your grandmother is the worst receptionist in the world, honey. And I think it’s time I replaced her with a professional.” He dropped his voice. “Though now that she’s dating Wilbur, maybe I won’t have to actually tell her she’s fired. Maybe she’ll go and assist him at the store—God help the poor schmuck.”

Odelia’s eyes went wide. “Gran? Dating Wilbur? Are you serious?”

“Oh, absolutely. You should have seen her just now. She even put on makeup and a dress. I don’t think I’ve seen your grandmother in a dress since… well, ever.”

“Oh, my,” said Odelia, taken aback by this bit of news. “And do you think it’s serious?”

Dad shrugged.“With Vesta you never know. Though I’m hopeful. For the first time in a long time I’m actually hopeful.”

Odelia grinned at her dad.“You’re secretly hoping she’ll move out, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” said Dad, returning her grin.

She patted her dad on the back. Poor Dad, she thought. Not only did he have to tolerate Gran living with him, but working at his place of business, too. No wonder he was suddenly looking so happy.

“Tex! You can come up now!” Mom yelled from upstairs. “Randy is ready for you!”

“Here we go,” said Dad, and heeded his wife’s call with the kind of alacrity all women like to see in her devoted husband.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Marge, when she’d arrived upstairs, had expected to find the patient sickly and pale, looking as if he was at death’s door. Instead, she’d found Randy Hancock preening in front of the mirror, only dressed in very short boxer’s shorts, and flexing his muscles.

When she pushed open the door, after the most cursory of knocks, she gasped at the sight of the fitness guru whose workout routines she’d religiously followed for the last thirty years, ever since he’d burst onto the scene like a pint-sized human spark plug.

“Oh, Randy,” she breathed in a hoarse whisper, clutching a hand to a heart practically beating through her heaving chest. “It’s an honor—a pleasure—I’m your biggest fan!”

Randy, who looked startled at this unexpected invasion of his privacy, quickly recovered. He was probably used to fans walking in on him by now. So he plastered a smile onto his face and said,“And you must be Odelia’s mom—the resemblance is striking, sweetheart. And can I just say you could be mistaken for her sister? Absolutely!”

“Oh, thank you, Randy,” Marge said, simpering a little as she proceeded further into the room—this holiest of holy places now that Randy had taken up sojourn there.

Chase’s fitness equipment occupied one corner of the room, a desk the other, and Odelia had now turned the couch into a bed, and somehow the combination of home gym and guest bedroom was fitting for the fitness megastar.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your predicament,” she said breathlessly as she clutched the tattered videotape in her sweaty hand. “My husband is a doctor, Randy, so if you want him to take a look at you—maybe he can find out what’s going on.”

“That would be lovely,” said Randy courteously. He gestured to the video. “And what do you have there? A gift for me?”

“Oh, no. I thought… if you want… and only if you want… if you could maybe… sign it for me?” She handed him the tape. “It’s the very first exercise tape I ever bought. I must have done these exercises hundreds of times… thousands… probably more!”

“I remember this one,” said Randy, fondly tapping the tape with his index finger. “Do you know this is still the best-sold exercise tape in the world? Sold millions and millions of copies. It’s out on DVD now, and available for free on my YouTube channel if you like.”

“I still prefer my old VHS tape,” said Marge, drinking in the fitness guru’s presence with her eyes. He looked exactly like he did on the cover of the tape. Only his hair was a little less dark, and his face a little more lined, but that lean physique was still there, and that sparkle in his eyes. “You look wonderful, Randy. I hope you don’t mind if I say this?”

“Oh, no. You can tell me I look wonderful all day long and I still wouldn’t get tired of it,” he quipped.

“How do you do it?” she asked. “How do you stay so fit and healthy?”

He held up the tape and tilted his head.“The secret is right here. I said it thirty years ago and I keep saying it now: you have got to keep moving, baby—keep grooving!”

She nodded, suddenly getting emotional from being in the presence of greatness.

“Are you all right?” he asked when she swayed a little, like a sapling in the breeze.

She nodded, furiously fighting to keep her tears at bay.“It’s just that…” She halted, then tried again. “Do you ever feel like you could use a little more… sparkle in your life, Randy?” Immediately she knew she’d crossed a line, and held up her hand. “Please forgive me. You don’t need to hear all this. You’ve got enough problems ofyour own.”

“No, it’s all right,” he said, and took a seat on the edge of the bed, then patted the spot beside him. “Tell me all about it, sweetheart. Pour out your heart to your friend Randy.”

“Oh, Randy,” she said, a tear now rolling down her cheek. “People all around me are getting married, you see, and it’s made me feel… It’s just making me feel so… so…”

“Left out?” he said.

She stared at him.“How did you know?”

He placed a hand to his heart and regarded her with so much compassion it almost made her weep like a newborn.“I’m in love, too, Marge. With a person I can’t have. I can relate. We all need romance in our lives, and sometimes it simply eludes us, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, it does! I mean, I’m a happily married woman, and I really shouldn’t feel like this, but sometimes I just want… more, you know? More romance, more of that… spark.”

“I hear you, Marge. One hundred percent.” He gave her a big smile—just like he did in his videos—then opened his arms wide. “Come here,” he said. “Let me give you hug.”

And then they hugged, and Marge thought it felt so good.“Oh, Randy,” she murmured.

And when Chase walked in ten seconds later that’s how he found them: Randy naked from the waist up, and both of them sitting on the bed locked into a tight embrace.

So he discreetly backtracked and closed the door. They hadn’t even noticed him.

Chapter 16

Little Randy wasn’t exactly feeling on top of the world. To be more precise he felt on the bottom of the world, or even below it, underneath the world, if that was even possible. He’d failed in his principal duty: to protect his human, and still Randy had decided to stick with him. Any other human would have simply dumped him—maybe taken him back to the breeder—or left him at the local pound—but not Randy Hancock. The man was so kind-hearted, so loving and generous he had seemingly forgiven Little Randy his trespasses and allowed him to tag along to this, his new home.

The Irish Setter had spent the entire afternoon in front of the window feeling sorry for himself, and now he was lying outside on the cool lawn, still feeling sorry for himself but also wondering where the cats he’d met earlier had gone off to.

And he was just hoping they’d return soon, as he was starting to feel a little lonely all by his lonesome, when suddenly he became aware of a pssting sound near where he lay.

He glanced up, and saw that a smallish dog was looking at him through a hole in the fence. If he wasn’t mistaken the dog was of the Yorkshire Terrier breed, and really tiny.

“Psst!” the doggie repeated. “Hey, big guy! Who are you?”

“My name is Little Randy,” he said, well pleased to discover that it wasn’t just cats who infested this part of the world but dogs, too. “And what is your name, tiny dog?”

“Fifi,” said the fluffy white thing. “So Odelia finally took a dog, huh? Tired of spending her life surrounded only by cats?”

“I’m not Odelia’s dog if that’s what you’re thinking, Fifi. I belong to Randy Hancock. The fitness star? He’s staying with Odelia for a couple of days and was so good to let me tag along, even though I failed him in every way.” He hung his head. “I allowed him to be poisoned, you see, and now he will die soon and I will be to blame.” He normally didn’t allow himself to confide in strangers, even if they were dogs, but he was feeling a little down in the dumps and it felt good to unburden his soul.

“Your human is about to die?” asked Fifi.

“Yeah, that poison will kill him in exactly three days and one night.”

“What will happen to you when he goes?”

“I don’t know. I assume I will go and live with one of Randy’s relatives. I’m sure he will have added a clause to his will stipulating my fate in great detail.” Another nail to the coffin of Little Randy’s conscience: even though he’d neglected to protect Randy, Randy was doing everything in his power to protect his precious dog—what a guy! What a pal!

“You know what I think you need?” asked Fifi now, as she glanced up at him shyly.

“A dose of the same poison that is going to kill my master?”

“You need to sing, Little Randy. Sing your heart out!”

“Sing?” he asked, eyeing Fifi as if she’d lost her tiny little mind. “What do you mean, sing?”

“Me and a buddy of mine have just launched dog choir, and we’re inviting all of our friends—and now I guess I’m inviting you, Little Randy. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Dog choir?” he said, making a face. He’d never heard of dogs singing before, except maybe in Saturday morning cartoons. “Dogs don’t sing, Fifi. Everybody knows that.”

“Cats don’t sing either, and yet this town has a very popular cat choir. They gather at the park every night, and sing their hearts out. So I figured why should it just be cats who get to sing, right? Why can’t dogs have some fun, too? And so Rufus and I are heading out there right now, so ifyou want to come, let’s get going, Little Randy.”

“But…”

She flashed him a shy but sweet smile.“What do you have to lose, my friend?”

This was absolutely true. He didn’t have anything to lose, except his dignity, and frankly he was beyond the point where that kind of stuff mattered. So he finally shrugged. “Okay. So where is this park of yours?”

“Follow me,” said Fifi, and popped through the hole in the fence, then tripped over to the hedge that separated Odelia’s backyard from her parents’ and said, “Rufus! Rufus, let’s go!”

Moments later a big sheepdog appeared on the scene, and gave Little Randy a good-natured nod.“Hi, there, buddy. Ready for dog choir?”

“Um…” said Little Randy, then smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

And so the unlikely trio set off along the strip of lawn that lined Odelia’s house, and moments later they were out in the street, and on their way to the park.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Tex entered the room where his patient was holed up with a slight sense of trepidation. He was of course used to treating people who were sick or even dying, but rarely it happened to him that he treated a person as famous as Randy Hancock.

“Come in!” said Randy. The first thing Tex thought when he caught sight of the fitness guru was that he didn’t look very sick—or dying, for that matter. In fact he looked like a real live wire.

“Well, there he is!” said Randy. “The man of the hour. Are you ready to do this, Tex—can I call you Tex?—I’m not sure what you need from me. Do you want me to lie down? Sit up? Stick out my tongue? Drop my pants and bend over? Though if it’s blood you need I’ll tell you right now I’m squeamish, Tex. Extremely squeamish. I just hate needles!”

“Oh, Randy,” said Marge with a schoolgirl giggle.

Much to Tex’s surprise, his wife of twenty-five years had taken off her sweater and was sitting on the bed next to Randy, looking flustered and grinning like a teenager at her first dorm party.

“Okay, big boy,” said Randy as he held out his arm. “Just stick it in before I change my mind.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “But don’t expect me to watch! I’ll start to scream!”

“Randy, you’re such a hoot!” Marge giggled.

“It’s the entertainer in me, Marge,” said Randy. “I may be dying but I’ll make you laugh until the day I die!”

“Um, I’m not going to draw blood now,” said Tex.

“Well, that’s a relief!”

“I mean, I could, if you wanted to, but I’d have to get my stuff.”

“He didn’t bring his stuff!” said Randy.

“Oh, Tex,” said Marge. “I told you to bring your doctor’s bag.”

Tex frowned. He had a feeling something was going on. He didn’t know what, exactly, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like it. “If you want me to give you a complete physical I suggest you come to my office tomorrow,” he said, a little stiffly. “I have all of my equipment there, and I can even arrange for your blood work to be examined at the lab—normally I would suggest you go to the hospital, but I promise you I’ll do my best to—”

“I can’t leave the house, Tex. People might recognize me, and I know this will sound a little weird but my enemies can’t know I’m staying here. So….” Then his face lit up. “What I could do is wear a disguise. Do you have a wig, Marge? Any old wig will do.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m sure we’ve got something lying around.” She giggled again. “You really want to walk the streets wearing a wig, Randy? You will look funny.”

“Haven’t you figured it out by now, Marge? Funny is my middle name!”

Tex cleared his throat.“So are you coming in tomorrow or…”

“You betcha, Doc!” said Randy, clapping him on the shoulder like an old friend. “I’ll come and see you first thing tomorrow. And I want to thank you for doing this. You don’t know how much it means to me to be welcomed into your family like such an honored guest. No, not like a guest—like a member of the family.” He gave the doc a warm smile.

“That’s all right,” said Tex. “So… see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, Tex.”

And as Tex walked out, he waited by the door for his wife to follow him. When she didn’t move from the bed but stayed right where she was, he felt a little shocked.

Strange things were happening. And as he descended the stairs, he could have sworn he heard Marge giggle again. Giggle like a naughty girl up to doing naughty things!

Chapter 17

We were on our way back from cat choir when we unwittingly witnessed a strange scene: very near to our rehearsal space—the playground at the park—a couple of dogs were howling at the moon. Usually it’s wolves that engage in this sort of behavior but it was definitely dogs this time, since as far as I know we don’t have any wolves in Hampton Cove.

And as we quickly walked past, putting some pep in our step to leave this disturbing scene in our rearview mirror, suddenly Dooley said,“Isn’t that Fifi?”

We now all glanced over, something we’d neglected to do before, and much to my surprise I saw that one of the dogs was, indeed, our neighbor Fifi. The Yorkshire Terrier was howling up a storm, and creating quite the ruckus I must say.

“Hey, that’s Rufus!” said Harriet.

“And Little Randy,” said Brutus, sounding as surprised as I was feeling.

We now stared at the scene, and I felt as if I was in the upside-down version of my usual world.

“I don’t get it,” I finally said. “What do they think they’re doing?”

“Sounds like they’re howling at the moon,” said Dooley.

“I know what it sounds like, Dooley,” I said, “but what I want to know is why they’re behaving in this ludicrous way.”

“Why ludicrous?” asked Harriet.

“Because they’re not wolves!”

The dogs must have spotted us, for they suddenly halted their howling and came trotting over.

“Hey, you guys,” said Fifi. “So what do you think?”

“Think of what?” I asked.

“Our performance. Is it as good as or even better than yours?”

“Better than what?”

“Cat choir! Is dog choir as good as cat choir, better than cat choir, or worse. It’s a multiple-choice question,” she added when we just stared at her.

“Do you mean to say you’re starting a… dog choir?” asked Harriet with an incredulous laugh.

“That’s right. We just figured if cats can do it, so can dogs. Maybe even better.”

“I like it,” said Rufus. “I like the singing. Though I think we’re going to need a conductor. It doesn’t feel right without a conductor.”

“I like it, too,” said Little Randy. “I’m not a natural-born singer, and I don’t think I have an ounce of talent, but I really had fun tonight, guys. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lil Ran,” said Rufus.

“Lil Ran?” I said, aghast.

“The fellas decided Little Randy was a real mouthful so they’ve baptized me Lil Ran.”

“It was my idea,” said Fifi. “It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? And once we take dog choir to the next level, you need a name for when we talk to the press.”

“Talk to the press!” I said. “Dogs don’t talk to anyone, and certainly not the press!”

“But… you talk to the press, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“So what do you call it when you talk to Odelia?”

“She’s got you there, Max,” said Brutus with a grin.

“Look, for me this is just a way to while away the time,” said Lil Ran. “And to take my mind off things.”

“Lil Ran is feeling blue,” said Rufus. “On account of the fact that his human is dying.”

“I’m sorry, Lil Ran,” said Dooley. “If my human was dying I’d feel bad, too. And even when she’s not dying,” he added, “but getting married instead.” He sighed deeply. “Today is a sad, sad day.”

“Maybe sing some more, Dooley,” said Fifi with a smile. “It will cheer you right up—you’ll see.” And to show us what she meant, she raised her face to the moon and started howling—and very loudly, too!

Moments later a shoe came flying in her direction and knocked her off her perch. When she’d recovered enough to join us again, she stared at the shoe, then at us, and said, “What just happened?”

“Welcome to cat choir,” I said.

Chapter 18

In spite of the fact that Wilbur Vickery wasn’t anyone’s dream date—most certainly not Vesta’s—she had been fully prepared to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

They’d gone to see a movie, one Wilbur had picked. It had been one of those violent movies, with plenty of action and shooting and a body count that went through the roof. And throughout the movie Wilbur had been laughing his ass off, clearly having a ball.

Vesta, meanwhile, had been so bored she’d surfed on her phone the entire time, chatting with Scarlett, giving her a live report of the evening as it progressed.

‘Nine fifteen—Wilbur almost choked in his extra-large popcorn.’

‘Nine thirty—Wilbur almost choked in his extra-large Coke.’

‘Nine forty—Wilbur almost choked laughing when one of the bad guys got smushed.’

And she’d just started to figure the evening was a bust when suddenly Wilbur had placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. It was at a moment in the movie when the hero was locked up in a bank vault with a pretty girl and noxious gas was being pumped in by the bad guys and instead of trying to get himself and the girl out of trouble he started kissing the girl instead. Go figure. That’s what you get when Hollywood movies are all made by men for men: they make absolutely no sense!

And so when the hero started feeling up the scantily-clad leading lady, who was thirty years his junior, Wilbur started leaning in and had actually tried to kiss her!

She responded by grabbing his left nipple and giving it a tight squeeze.

Wilbur had squealed like a pig and for the rest of the movie had kept his hands—and his lizard tongue—to himself.

‘Ten twenty—Wilbur has stopped talking to me.’

“So where do you wanna go?” Vesta asked as they walked out of the movie theater, three hundred dead bad guys, one molested leading lady, and a smirking hero later.

By this point Wilbur’s face was a thundercloud, and he grunted, “Dunno.”

“Maybe we could go for a walk? There’s a full moon out tonight. And then we can go patrolling, like we said.”

“Hrmph,” Wilbur said, which Vesta took as a yes. So she took hold of the shopkeeper’s arm and together they walked through downtown Hampton Cove, then proceeded in the direction of the waterfront.

“This is nice,” said Vesta as they reached the boardwalk and joined the many couples leisurely strolling along and having a good time.

“Hrmph,” Wilbur repeated. He’d recently shaved off his beard and mustache, but was growing them back. The beard didn’t become him, and neither did the mustache. The beard was white and made him look like Father Time, and the mustache was the color of urine and gave him the aspect of a derelict. Along with his bushy brows and skeletal build, he looked more like a bum than the owner of one of Hampton Cove’s most popular stores.

“So I’ve been thinking,” she said now as she gazed out across the ocean, which reflected the light of the full moon.

“What?” he said, openly gawking at a pretty young thing strolling past on the arm of her boyfriend.

“About the watch. What if we recruited a couple of new members? That way we could cover more ground.”

“What would you want to do a silly thing like that for?” asked Wilbur, his jaw moving lasciviously as he ogled another young girl moving by on roller skates.

“Because one neighborhood watch isn’t enough, Wilbur. If we want Hampton Cove to be the safest town on the East Coast we need a watch in every neighborhood. And that means recruiting people from all over the place. Responsible citizens.”

“You go ahead if you want. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, without being responsible for the safety of an entire town.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I suggest you leave well enough alone. If those other neighborhoods want to start a block watch, then let them. It’s none of our business.” He glanced at a tall blonde with a deeply cut cleavage. “Frankly I don’t see why you even bother.”

“I bother because I care about this town of ours. I want people to feel safe when they’re out on the street. And I want them to feel safe when they’re at home. Don’t you?”

But the shopkeeper shrugged.“As long as I’m safe, that’s good enough for me,” he said, causing Vesta to raise her eyebrows and cast a censorious look at her date.

“You know, Wilbur, when Scarlett suggested we go out on a date, I’ll admit I was skeptical.”

“Oh?”

“But now that we’re out and about, I think she was right. This was a great idea.”

“It was?” he said, giving her a look of surprise.

“Why don’t we take a seat on that bench over there,” Vesta suggested. “I’d like to hear some more of your ideas about the watch.”

“Okay,” said Wilbur as he walked her over to the bench and took a seat. One bench over a young couple sat, locked in a tight embrace, their lips also locked and clearly in their own world. Wilbur glanced at the young couple, then at Vesta, and he grinned a suggestive grin that showed all of hiscrooked, yellowing teeth.

“So what do you want to ‘talk’ about?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully.

“How you see the future of the watch?”

He frowned.“Um… Well, we drive around some, like we’ve been doing, and if we see something that ain’t right, we call the cops.” He was leaning in again, an arm slowly sneaking around her back.

She glanced down at her nice dress, which she’d worn especially for this occasion. She hadn’t worn it in a while, and she was starting to feel a little silly wearing it now. “So you’d call the cops if you saw something suspicious. Not go in there and deal with it yourself?”

“Are you nuts? What if these people are armed? We don’t want to get our heads blown off, do we? No, we let the cops take the heat. They know what to do.”

“Cops are people, too, Wilbur. With families and lives they’d like to keep.”

“They get paid to do this shit, Vesta. With our tax money. So I say let ‘em go in first.”

“And if they get shot?”

Wilbur shrugged.“They knew what they were getting into when they signed up for the job.” He pulled her in a little closer. “Aren’t you cold? You look cold.”

She half expected him to offer his jacket, but instead he wrapped his arms around her, and suddenly she felt as if she’d been snagged by an octopus. And since he’d pinned her arms to her body, she couldn’t even pinch his other nipple!

So when he lowered his mouth to hers, instead she bit his tongue—hard!

“Ouch!” he cried, and released her from his grip. “What did you do that for?”

“Wilbur,” she said with a smile, “I think this date has been very illuminating.”

“What are you talking about, you crazy woman?” he said, touching his mouth.

“I’ve made up my mind. From now on you will no longer be part of my watch.”

“What?!”

She got up swiftly.“You’re fired, Wilbur.” And she started walking away before turning. “Oh, and this will be our one and only date. Goodbye.”

‘Eleven ten—Wilbur almost choked again. This time in his own arrogance and bad behavior and terrible opinions. Lucky for him I performed CPR. He didn’t seem to like it.’

Chapter 19

Dooley hadn’t stopped talking about the upcoming wedding of Gran and Wilbur Vickery since we left the park. It was clearly bugging him a great deal.

So finally instead of going to bed, I decided to suggest something else.

“Why don’t we go and spy on Gran’s date with Wilbur?” I said. “And then maybe you’ll see that there isn’t all that much to worry about.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he said. “Gran won’t like it when we spy on her.”

“She’ll never know, Dooley. We’ll simply make sure she doesn’t see us.”

He looked in equal measure excited and terrified at the prospect of spying on our human, but finally his fear of becoming Kingman’s brother and having to go and live with Wilbur decided him.

“All right,” he said. “But only if you promise me that Gran won’t see us.”

“I promise, Dooley,” I said, even though it wasn’t really a promise I could make. Gran has eagle eyes, in spite of her age, and sometimes I think she even has eyes in the back of her head. Still, I wasn’t prepared to listen to Dooley go on and on all night about Gran’s wedding, and this seemed like a good plan to put his mind at ease once and for all.

So we left the others and set a course to downtown Hampton Cove, where we figured Wilbur would have taken Gran.

“I know they were going to see a movie,” said Dooley.

“So that’s where we’ll go first,” I said. “And we’ll see where they went next.”

And so it was arranged: we headed to the Happy Flix movie theater in town, and got there just in time to see people pouring out of the entrance, one of them Gran, and the other her date for the night, silver fox Wilbur Vickery. Though he looked more like a silver dog to me, but then I’m not a woman so what do I know.

We followed the couple as they strolled along the sidewalk, keeping our distance so as not to be noticed, and soon they plotted a course to the boardwalk, where all loved-up couples go when the moon is full and the night is young.

“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley. “This looks very romantic. Too romantic!”

He was right. All the couples I saw were holding hands, or seated on wooden benches overlooking the ocean and hugging and kissing and whatnot.

So maybe this wasn’t a good idea at all!

“They’re sitting down, Max!” said Dooley, pointing in the direction of the couple. They now looked as loved-up as the other couples in their vicinity, and I could sense that love was in the air, and soon sparks would fly and morals would get a little loosey-goosey!

“Maybe we should get going,” I said. “Nothing much to see here, just like I told you.”

“I think there’s plenty to see!” said Dooley. “Look, Max, they’re going to kiss!”

And indeed they were. Wilbur had his hands all over Dooley’s human, and was moving in for a kiss. And just as I was ready to cover my friend’s eyes so he wouldn’t have to witness this particularly sordid scene, suddenly Wilbur jerked back with a loud cry of pain, and touched his fingers to his lips for some reason.

The next moment Gran had gotten up from that bench and said something. Then she walked away!

“What’s happening, Max!” Dooley cried. “What’s going on?!”

“Time to find out,” I said, and hurried in the direction of Gran. I caught up with her just as she was starting down the wooden stairs to take a stroll along the beach.

“Gran!” I said. “What happened?!”

“Oh, hey, Max,” she said, and didn’t even look surprised. “I just had the lousiest date in the history of dating, though I did learn a very valuable lesson.”

“And what is that?” I asked, as Dooley joined us.

“That Wilbur is a despicable human being and that maybe, just maybe, I’m too old to date.” Then she sighed and took off her shoes. “Wanna join me for a little stroll?”

Now normally cats aren’t really into the whole strolling thing. That’s more for dogs. And humans, of course. But before I could say ‘Thank you but I’m fine,’ Dooley was already hurrying forward, clearly wanting to be wherever Gran was going tonight.

So I decided to tag along.

“So… when are you and Wilbur getting married, Gran?” asked Dooley nervously as we trudged through the loose sand.

Gran laughed.“Getting married! Oh, Dooley, Dooley. I made that mistake once—I’m not making it again. And definitely not with a turd like Wilbur.”

“A turd?” asked Dooley, glancing back at Wilbur, who was still sitting on his bench, checking his tongue in a pocket mirror for some reason. “He doesn’t look like a turd.”

“Well, he is, Dooley. Some humans may look like humans, but underneath they’re really turds. Another lesson learned.”

“So… Kingman isn’t going to be my brother? And I’m not moving into his house?”

Gran grinned.“Not while I’m around, Dooley, and I can tell you I plan to stick around for a very long time to come.”

Dooley let out a curt yelp, then his lip started trembling, and the next moment… he was bawling like a baby!

“Oh, honey,” said Gran, and picked up my friend for a hug. “You should have told me you were so worried.”

“I don’t want to move away from home, Gran,” said Dooley between sniffs. “I like my home. And my friends. And my family.”

“I do, too, honey. And I’m never moving out. Whatever that crazy son-in-law of mine says.” She cut a quick look to me and I smiled. Apparently Tex wasn’t as good at hiding his intentions as he thought. He’d be disappointed when the news came that Gran wasn’t getting married after all.

And so we walked along that beach, Gran carrying Dooley, and softly singing a little song for my friend. Soon his sniffles subsided, and he was himself again.

And I must say, it was pretty soothing to walk along with the two of them. I’ve never seen the benefit of taking a walk, but there’s definitely something in it, I have to admit.

“What did you do to Wilbur, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“I bit his tongue.”

“But why?”

“Because he wouldn’t bite his own tongue and stop himself from saying all kinds of stupid things, so I did it for him.”

“That was very nice of you, Gran.”

“Well, I’m a nice person, Dooley.”

That, she most certainly was, even though not many people got to see that side of her.

Chapter 20

Brutus had just laid down his head after an interesting night spent at both cat choir and dog choir, when he suddenly remembered he’d totally forgotten about… Pinkie!

So instead of spending a leisurely night at the foot of his humans’ bed, he hopped down again, made his way downstairs, then through the pet flap and into the backyard.

It didn’t take him long to find Pinkie, who was lounging on a large flat stone next to the garden shed. Tex had once had the idea to place a fountain there, but hadn’t had time to bring it about. The flat stone was there, but no fountain, which was just as well, as fountains have a tendency to spew water all over the place, a habit cats are not all that fond of.

“Hey, there, buddy,” said Brutus. “I’m sorry but I completely forgot about you.”

“You’re refreshingly honest, Brutus,” said Pinkie. “Which is something I like about you. So how was cat choir?”

“Oh, so so,” said Brutus. “We discovered that a couple of dogs have launched dog choir, so looks like we’ve got competition.”

“So shall we get going?” asked Pinkie.

“Sure, sure,” said Brutus. “So where is this pond, exactly?”

“You’ll see,” said the little turtle. “Um, so maybe I can hop on your back? It’s going to take us a really long time to get there otherwise.”

“Good idea. Hop on.”

The turtle didn’t so much hop on as crawl on, and took her time to do so. But once she was firmly in position, they took off, with Pinkie directing the black cat’s steps.

Moments later they were on the sidewalk, with Brutus telling Pinkie all about Gran’s upcoming wedding, which would cause Dooley to have to go and live with Wilbur and Kingman, and how they were all going to miss him but how that couldn’t be helped, and how humans were so darn unpredictable. And before he knew it, they had arrived.

They were still on the street, staring up at a storefront, which announced that this was where people could find anything their growing pets needed. In other words, they’d arrived at a pet shop, aptly named ‘Pete’s Pet Paradise.’

“This is it,” said Pinkie, her voice a little hushed.

“This is the pond?” said Brutus. “This is where you escaped from?”

“Yes. The pond is inside, and heavily guarded, so we’re going to have to come up with a plan, Brutus.”

“But… you expect me to break into this place and free your turtle friends? How do you propose I do that? I’m not a teenage mutant ninja turtle, Pinkie.”

“I don’t know what you just said,” said Pinkie. “Look, all you have to do is follow my lead.” And with these words, the tiny turtle made her way down from his back, and proceeded to move in the direction of a protective metal grille that had been placed over a basement recess. Beneath it he could see a window, leading into the store basement.

Brutus stared at Pinkie for a moment, unsure how to proceed, but then the turtle turned and said,“So are you coming or not?”

Brutus watched how Pinkie slipped between the grille then hopped down into the recess, and then through the open window. So he gave the grille a tentative nudge, and discovered it could easily be dislodged. After a moment’s pause, he squeezed through the grille and the wall, gracefully jumped down and proceeded into the darkness.

Brutus had never been much of an adventurer. He liked to watch other adventurers at work, like Bear Grylls or his fictional counterpart Indiana Jones, but personally the black cat preferred to sit on his couch and experience his adventures vicariously while enjoying the comfort of his home, the presence of his friends, and a big bowl of kibble.

None of these were present in the basement he now found himself in. There were no friendly faces anywhere in sight, and an appalling dearth of kibble—at least the cat kind.

What there was were mountains of turtle food: some kind of fish food Brutus had taken one sniff at and had immediately discarded as not fit for feline consumption.

The basement of the pet shop was large, with a low ceiling, and not much light. It was also pretty hot down there, and when he looked around, all he could see were large plastic tanks filled with water and… turtles. Hundreds of them—possibly even thousands. And it soon dawned on him that quite possibly he’d discovered a breeding site for turtles, located underneath this innocuous-looking pet shop.

The water tanks—there were five of them—were easily five feet high and twenty feet wide, and spread out along the basement. The bags of fish food were stacked high along one wall, and tubes led from the tanks to a machine presumably designed to make sure the water was fit for turtle habitation. From his high perch in the only window the basement sported, he had a good overview of the tanks, and saw that the turtles ranged from tiny to a little larger—though still reasonably small—and wondered how they were possibly going to free all of these turtles—or even if that was such a good idea.

“So now what?” he said once he’d taken all this in, and had determined that the ‘pond’ Pinkie kept mentioning was in fact these tanks her friends were kept in.

“Now we liberate my friends,” Pinkie said.

“You really expect all of these turtles to escape this place?” said Brutus, balking at the sheer enormity of the task. “Pinkie, there must be hundreds of turtles—thousands.”

“Oh, you bet. Maybe more,” said Pinkie. “So let’s get them out of here, shall we?”

Brutus had jumped down from the window and glanced up at one of the tanks, and saw that a small stepladder had been placed against the side, presumably for whoever operated this breeding farm to feed the animals. He mounted the steps and found himself looking down at the mass of turtles. The sides of the tank were smooth and straight—impossible to scale.

“How did you get out, Pinkie? How did you manage?”

“One of the guards left this fishing net in the pond,” said Pinkie, “and so I walked across it and then onto this ladder and out through the same window we got in.”

“It could probably be done,” Brutus had to admit. Though it would take a long time—a very, very, very long time—for the entire basement to be cleared. And in the meantime whoever was in charge probably wouldn’t stand idly by while their precious turtles escaped from right under their noses. “Look, it’s late already,” he said. “We better come back tomorrow. I’ll ask Odelia and Chase to help us, and together we might be able to pull this off.”

“No way!” said Pinkie. “Your humans will never agree to help. They’re humans, Brutus. And it’s humans who’ve been keeping us all prisoner down here in this pond.”

“My humans are not like that, Pinkie,” Brutus assured the tiny turtle. “They’ll do what’s right. In fact,” he said as he gave the matter some more thought, “Chase might be able to look into this operation, and when he finds that these turtles are being kept or bred here illegally, he’ll close down the store and the animal welfare people will come in and take you all away to safety.”

“I don’t know,” said Pinkie, wavering. “I don’t really trust humans, Brutus. They’re mostly mean, as far as I can tell.”

“I promise you that my humans aren’t mean at all. In fact they’re very nice. And they love animals.”

“Even turtles?” asked Pinkie dubiously.

“Even turtles,” Brutus said with a smile.

“Okay,” said Pinkie finally. “If you think this is for the best, I trust you.”

“You’ll see,” said Brutus. “Everything will be all right, Pinkie.”

And just as they were moving in the direction of the window again, suddenly the lights in the basement came on, and a loud voice said,“How many times do I have to tell you to close that window, Johnny!”

And before Brutus and Pinkie could skedaddle, the basement window was slammed shut.

Oh, boy, he thought as he contemplated his options.

He sure was in a real pickle now, wasn’t he!

Chapter 21

“Babe?”

“Mh.”

“Are you asleep?”

“Iwas asleep,” said Odelia, digging her face deeper into her pillow.

“I just saw the weirdest thing.”

“What?”

“Your mom and Randy. Hugging. And Randy was naked and your mom was crying.”

Odelia lifted her head from her pillow to take in her partner. His profile was illuminated by the light of the moon filtering in through the curtains, but she could see that he was staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, and he had a look of profound shock on his face. Presumably the same look of shock she herself was now displaying.

“My mom and Randy? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Well, she’s always been a big fan of his routines, but this?” They were both silent for a moment, then she said, “Do you think they’re having an affair? Behind my dad’s back?”

“I don’t know. But it sure looked like that to me.”

“Oh, dear. Dad will be devastated.”

“Hopefully he’ll never find out.”

“Don’t you think we should tell him?”

“Absolutely not. Like you said, it will destroy him.”

“The affair will probably be short-lived,” Odelia admitted. “Did they see you?”

“I don’t think so. They were too busy… doing whatever it was they were doing.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. She could just picture her mom with Randy and it wasn’t the kind of image she wanted in her head. “You know? I always thought Randy was… you know, batting for the other team.”

“From what I saw, he’s definitely batting for Marge’s team. Things were heating up in there. In a big way. What I don’t get, though, is why she was crying.”

She turned to face him in the semi-darkness.“Sometimes when a man does… certain things to a woman, it causes her to get emotional. I cried my eyes out my first time. And it wasn’t because I was sad, I can tell you that.”

“Oh,” said Chase.

“Yeah.”

“So… do you still think it’s a good idea for your dad to examine Randy in the morning? If he gets wind that his wife is having an affair with the guy, he might want to inject him with a deadly poison himself.”

“I’ll try to feel him out over breakfast. See how much he knows, or suspects. But if I know my dad, he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Poor guy. Hard to compete with a fitness legend and global celebrity like Ran-Ran.”

“Ran-Ran?”

“He told me to call him Ran-Ran.”

She grinned.“You haven’t by any chance been crying in his arms too, have you, babe?”

She could see that he was smiling now.“No. Not exactly. Though I had the impression he wouldn’t have minded crying in my arms. How wrong I was, huh?”

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“I don’t get it, Max. We came home together last night, and went to sleep as usual, at the foot of Marge and Tex’s bed, only this morning when I woke up—he was gone!”

Harriet looked in quite a state as she told Dooley and me her tale of woe. We were in Odelia’s backyard, enjoying those early rays the sun likes to dispense to early birds catching early worms—though I’d never want to be seen catching a worm, mind you.

“Did you look everywhere?” I asked.

“I did. I looked all over the place. He simply disappeared. I don’t get it. He’s never done a thing like this before. Ever. Well, except yesterday, when he went for a walk.”

“What about his pet turtle?” I asked. “Maybe she knows where Brutus is.”

“That’s the thing: his turtle is gone, too. Looks like they went off together again, and this time Gran didn’t take them to the beach.” She looked distraught, and I felt for her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” I assured her. “He probably woke up early and went for a walk again.”

“He did say something strange yesterday, remember? He said he wanted to help Pinkie free her friends from the pond they were being kept in. I dismissed it at the time, figuring it was just something he said to make this Pinkie creature feel better. But now I’m not so sure.” She gave me a thoughtful look. “What if he really did go off with Pinkie, to help her free her friends? And what if he got himself in trouble in the process?”

“How do you free a turtle from a pond?” asked Dooley. “Don’t they like it at the pond?”

“Yeah, that’s what I don’t understand either,” Harriet intimated. “Turtles live in ponds, don’t they? So why would they need to be freed? And it’s not as if ponds have doors and locks and stuff. It’s more an open-door kind of deal I would think.” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on here lately. First Gran getting married and taking Dooley along with her to go and live with that awful Wilbur Vickery, and now Brutus going on some weird turtle rescue operation. Not to mention this fitness guy about to die in Odelia’s home—and Marge having an affair with the man ontop of everything else!”

We both stared at our friend.

“Is Marge having an affair with Randy Hancock?” I asked, more than a little surprised.

“I overheard Chase and Odelia talk about it just now. They were talking quietly, and Odelia sounded upset about the whole thing. Apparently Chase caught them last night, naked in Randy’s bed.”

“Oh, my God!” I said.

“Oh, no!” said Dooley.

“I guess Randy must have seduced her with his fatal charm,” said Harriet. “You know what celebrities are like. If George Clooney suddenly turned up at the house, saying he only had three more days to live, Marge would probably throw herself into his arms, too. Or Brad Pitt, or Chris Hemsworth. An ordinary guy like Tex doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Poor Marge,” said Dooley. “Seduced by a dying fitness guru.”

“Poor Tex!” I said. “They’ll probably get a divorce now, and Marge will go and live with Randy in his celebrity mansion.”

“If he lives,” Dooley said.

We shared a meaningful look, the three of us.“So what if Randy doesn’t live?” said Harriet, putting into words what we were all thinking. “It would save Marge’s marriage. Sure, she’d be sad for a while, and mourn the death of her hot lover. But in time she’d get over him, and her marriage would be saved.”

“We can’t wish for Randy to die, though,” I said. “It’s not ethical, you guys. He’s a human being, and deserves to live.”

“Marge deserves to be saved from his fatal charm!” said Harriet.

“That’s true,” I admitted.

“So… if Marge moves out, does that mean you move out, too, Harriet?” asked Dooley.

Harriet gave him a startled look.“I hadn’t even thought of that! You guys, I don’t want to move out and go and live with Randy Hancock! I really, really don’t!”

“What’s all this about you coming to live with me?” suddenly spoke the deep, booming voice of Lil Ran. I hadn’t seen him there, sunning behind a nearby tree, but clearly he had seen us—and heard us, too!

“How much have you heard?” I asked.

“Enough,” said the sharp-eared dog with a smile. “And if it’s any consolation: my human would never conduct an affair with your human.”

“Why not?” asked Harriet, narrowing her eyes at the big dog. “Isn’t my human good enough for your human?”

“Oh, she’s definitely good enough. But Randy isn’t into women, that much I can tell you.”

We all stared at the dog.“What are you talking about?” I asked. “If he’s not into women, what is he into? Apple trees?”

Lil Ran displayed a slight smile.“He’s into men, of course. What did you think?”

“Into men!” said Dooley. “But… I don’t understand.” He turned to me. “What is he talking about, Max? What does he mean?!”

Oh, boy. As if trying to explain about the birds and the bees wasn’t complicated enough, Lil Ran had just added an extra layer of complication.

Chapter 22

“Look, some human men like women, and other human men like men. And the same goes for human women,” I said.

Dooley stared at me.“I don’t understand.”

“Um…”

Harriet decided to take over.“See here, Dooley. Brutus and I are a couple, right?”

“Uh-huh. You love each other.”

“That, we do,” she said with a smile. “Now suppose for a moment that Brutus doesn’t love me, but loves you, for instance, or Max. See what I mean?”

Dooley frowned.“But… Brutus does love me, and he does love Max.”

“Yeah, as a friend. But not as a, um, as a partner, see?”

“No, I don’t see.”

“Look here, Dooley,” said Lil Ran. “You know where babies come from, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure. Max explained all that to me. A bird loves another bird and then she lays an egg, and then an ostrich drops by and delivers a baby boy bird or baby girl bird. And the same goes for bees, though it’s still not completely clear to me how an ostrich would carry a baby bee.” He paused.“Pollen is involved, though. Pollen and, um, flowers.”

Lil Ran gave me a pointed look.“The birds and the bees, Max? Really?”

I shrugged.“Dooley is still young, Lil Ran. So we like to explain things to him at a level he can understand.”

“Fine,” said Lil Ran, then turned to Dooley. “So a male bee and another male bee—they like each other, see? They like each other a lot!”

“Oh, sure,” said Dooley, nodding. “Like me and Max. We like each other a lot, don’t we, Max?”

“Yes, Dooley. We like each other heaps.”

“So the male bee… um… carries the pollen to the… um…”

“Flower,” Dooley said helpfully. “Because flowers like pollen.”

“Oh, forget about it,” said Lil Ran with a gesture of his paw. “You’re on your own here, pal. All I wanted to say is that Randy and Marge having an affair? It’s not possible.”

“But… Chase saw them,” said Harriet. “In Randy’s bed last night, hugging—naked! And Marge was crying!”

“Crying,” I said, nodding.

“Why was Marge crying, Max?” asked Dooley. “Did Randy hurt her?”

“Um…” I’d heard about women crying after they’d done the ‘deed’ and some men, too, but I wasn’t going to tell Dooley about that—no way! It just cinched it for me, though. In spite of what Lil Ran thought his human did or didn’t like, it was obvious that the tiny fitness giant and Marge were having an affair. And an extremely torrid one at that!

“Poor Tex,” Harriet reiterated, having come to the same conclusion. “He’ll be crushed.”

“But I’m telling you guys,” Lil Ran insisted. “No way is Randy having an affair with Marge, unless…” He frowned before himself for a moment. “Unless this whole ‘I’m about to die in three days’ business has fundamentally changed him somehow.”

“Changed him how?” I asked, interested.

“I don’t know. Made him want to… experiment. One last fling before he leaves this mortal coil. In which case… your human, Harriet, is in a singularly unique position. She will be the last person to have shared Randy’s bed.”

“Look, I’m sure Odelia and Chase will catch whoever is behind this whole poisoning thing,” I said. “And they’ll make sure Randy gets his antidote and survives this ordeal.”

“Which means Marge and Randy well get married,” Dooley intoned sadly, “and Harriet will move in with you, Lil Ran.”

Lil Ran’s eyes went wide. “Move in with me!”

“Yes, Lil Ran,” said Harriet sweetly. “We’ll be brother and sister. How about that?”

“But… we have to stop this!” said Lil Ran, who apparently wasn’t a big fan of Harriet. “We have to put a stop to this affair right now!”

“But how? How do you stop two people falling in love? It can’t be done.”

We all gave this some thought, then Dooley said,“Remember how I thought Gran was about to get married to Wilbur, and I’d have to move out and go and live with Kingman? So what did Wilbur do to make Gran change her mind?”

“Wilbur was being his usual obnoxious self,” I said. “And Gran didn’t like it.”

“So maybe we have to convince Marge that Randy is just as obnoxious as Wilbur?”

“Randy isn’t obnoxious,” said Lil Ran, immediately going to bat for his master. “In fact he’s the sweetest guy in the world.”

“I know that, and you know that,” I said. “But Marge doesn’t. She has no idea who Randy really is. All she knows is the man she’s seen on those videos for the past thirty years. So how do we convince her that the real Randy is a terrible person and make her fall out of love with him?”

Lil Ran gave me a slow nod.“I like what you’re saying, Max. And it just might work.”

“Or we could simply tell Odelia to let Randy die,” said Harriet. “Problem solved.”

“We can’t do that,” I said, even as Lil Ran gave his future sister a look of abject horror. “It wouldn’t be ethical.”

“Ethical schmethical,” Harriet murmured. “Look, you guys figure it out. I’m going to try and find Brutus—and his damn pet turtle.”

And with these words, she turned on her heel and was off.

“I think it’s very easy to convince Marge that Randy is a horrible person, Max,” Dooley said now. “We simply tell her that he is, and she’ll believe us, because she trusts us.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Dooley,” I said. “Love is blind. She might not believe us whatever we say.”

“We still have to give it a try,” my friend said. “We can’t let Harriet become Lil Ran’s sister. She’s our sister, and this is her home.”

“Absolutely,” said Lil Ran with fervor. “We have to stop this wedding, whatever it takes.”

And so a new alliance was formed, and a very strange alliance, too: an alliance between three cats and a dog. But with the stakes this high, I was prepared for anything.

Chapter 23

“I want to file a missing persons report,” said Odelia when she’d taken a seat in front of her uncle’s desk. “Brutus is missing.”

“A missing persons report for a cat?” said her uncle. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Brutus wouldn’t just go off, Uncle Alec. Something must have happened, so if you could ask your officers to be on the lookout for my cat, I’d appreciate it.”

Alec Lip, Hampton Cove’s Chief of Police and also Odelia’s uncle, moved in his chair, which groaned tiredly under his sizable bulk. Even though the Chief’s girlfriend Charlene had told him numerous times to go on a diet, the big man was reluctant, as he liked to eat, and apparently dieting and eating your fill doesn’t usually go hand in hand.

He rubbed his practically bald scalp and sighed.“Look, honey, I can’t really tell my people to go look for your cat. They’ve got other stuff to do, if you see what I mean.”

“What other stuff? What could be more important than finding Brutus? He’s never gone missing before and he must be terrified—wherever he is. In fact I think he’s probably been taken.”

“Taken,” said her uncle, his voice dripping with skepticism. “No offense, but who would want to take Brutus? He’s not exactly a show cat.”

“Brutus is a gorgeous cat,” said Odelia, finding her uncle’s behavior repulsive to the extreme. “So you’re actually going to sit there and tell me there’s nothing you can do?”

“You could put up flyers,” he suggested. “It’s what most people do when their cats go missing. And have you tried asking your neighbors?”

“Yes, I have,” she said. “They haven’t seen him. And Harriet says he must have slipped out of the house somewhere between midnight and early this morning, for they arrived home together last night, after cat choir, and he wasn’t there when she woke up.”

Her uncle shrugged.“I’m sure he’ll be back. Cats are like that. They just wander off from time to time, and they show up again when they’re tired or hungry or both.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, honey. Just you wait and see.”

“Hopeless,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Why do we have a police force if they’re not going to help find people when they go missing?”

“The key word being people,” said her uncle. “When people go missing, we turn out in force. Cats? Not so much.”

“And why is that may I ask?”

“Probably because cats don’t pay taxes?”

“Oh, Uncle Alec!”

“Okay, all right! I’ll see what I can do. But have you considered asking your grandmother? This seems like a perfect job for that neighborhood watch of hers.”

“Yes, I’ve asked her, and she’s already going door to door, doing whatever she can to find Brutus.” She got up and raised her voice. “Because she knows how important that cat is to me—to us—contrary to some people I know!”

“Honey, don’t be like that,” said her uncle, holding up his hands in a gesture of supplication. “If every time a cat goes missing I have to mobilize the entire police force nothing would ever get done!”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” she said, and opened the door, then added, “I’m very disappointed in you, Uncle Alec. Very, VERY disappointed!”

“Honey!”

“Goodbye!”

And she left his office, slamming the door as she went. He made a pretty good case, she thought in spite of herself, but her cats meant so much to her that however specious her uncle’s arguments might be, she simply couldn’t imagine him just sitting there and blithely telling her not to worry. If he fed the same line to parents whose kids had gone missing… Frankly it was a miracle he’d been chief of police for so long!

She walked out of the police station and wondered how to proceed. She had interviews to conduct with Randy’s staff, and also the man’s sister. She really didn’t have time to go look for Brutus. At least her grandmother was on the case, and her mom had promised to print up flyers they could use to paper the entire neighborhood.

Her stomach turned as she thought of poor Brutus, out there, alone and scared.

She got back into her car, and when Max and Dooley and Harriet gave her hopeful looks, she felt horrible having to tell them her uncle was going to do exactly nothing to help find their friend.

“He says the police are there to find people, not pets,” she said as she started the car.

“He’s not going to help us find Brutus?” asked Dooley.

“He’ll see what he can do. Which, as we all know, means he’ll do diddly.” She backed up the car and left the parking lot. “At least Gran is on the case. And maybe you guys should be out there, too. Looking for Brutus.”

“But we want to help you, Odelia,” said Max. “Otherwise Randy will die, and that’s not good.”

“No, I guess not,” she said, though ever since Chase had made his shocking discovery that Mom and Randy were having an affair, she’d started to see the fitness guru in a completely different light—an extremely unfavorable one!

She drove the short distance to the apartment building where the man’s manager lived, and parked the car out in front. “Are you sure you want to come?” she asked. “I don’t think there’s a lot you can do here.”

“No, we want to come,” said Max. “We need to save Randy, Odelia. It’s very important.”

She frowned at her cat. Max wasn’t usually this adamant, but apparently he and the others had taken a liking to Randy, and were now prepared to do whatever it took to save the man’s life.

“All right,” she said, holding open the door for her cats. “Let’s go, then. The sooner we finish these interviews, the sooner we can go back to finding Brutus.”

She walked up to the apartment block, hiking her purse higher up her shoulder, and glanced up. It was a newly built block of flats, and looked very expensive. Randy’s manager had done well for himself. Then again, if he took ten or fifteen percent of everything the fitness guru made, and had been with the man for the bulk of his career, he’d have amassed a pretty sizable pile of money.

She pressed her finger to the bell announcing that here lived Saul Garter, and moments later was buzzed in.

Riding the elevator up to the upper floor, she hoped that the man had pets, or otherwise Max and the others would really have come along for nothing.

The door to the manager’s apartment opened, and a short man appeared, with a shifty-eyed demeanor, and one of those faces only a mother could love. It took her a while to determine what animal he reminded her of, but she finally settled on a rodent. With his prominent nose, his overbite, his shifty dark eyes and his pronounced stoop, he’d have felt right at home at a rat colony.

“Hi, Mr. Garter,” she said. “My name is Odelia Poole and I’m a reporter with the Hampton Cove Gazette. We talked on the phone last night. I was hoping we could have a chat about one of your clients—Mr. Hancock?”

“Of course,” he said, and ushered her in. “Ever since you called I’ve been trying to get a hold of Randy. In vain, I might add. Do you know where he is?”

“He contacted me via email,” said Odelia, reiterating the story she and Randy and Chase had agreed upon for these interviews with the man’s staff. “He told me he’s gone into hiding after certain threats had been made against his life, and has asked me to look into the origin of these threats.”

“Death threats?” asked the manager, looking much surprised by this startling bit of news.

Odelia nodded, and glanced around. The flat was as modern on the inside as it was on the outside: plenty of glass and chrome, beige decorative epoxy flooring, a cassette-style wood stove providing heat, and a glass-enclosed balcony offering sunlight in all seasons.

“Nice place you’ve got,” she said.

“Yeah, I got it on the cheap,” said Mr. Garter. “The guy who built it is a former client. Used to run a chain of fitness clubs before he went into real estate. So how can I help you, Miss Poole?” He glanced down at the three cats who sat obediently awaiting further instructions. “I see you brought your cats?” he said, looking startled.

“I couldn’t find a cat sitter,” she explained, “so I had to bring them along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, sure,” he said vaguely, though he didn’t look all that happy about the feline contingent setting paw into his neat home. “Please take a seat.” He gestured to the leather couch in the living area.

“Randy wrote that you’ve been his manager for the past thirty years? Is that correct?” she said as she took out her writing tablet and stylus. They replaced her trusty notebook. That way she could save her notes to the cloud.

“Yeah, I’ve been Randy’s manager from the very beginning,” said the man as he nervously licked his lips. His eyes kept darting to the liquor cabinet, and it was obvious he was in need of a stiff one but afraid to take it in front of this reporter hired by his client. “He was just a fitness club owner back then, but had plans to make it big, and eventually he did. Videos first, instruction videos, and then his own TV show, and over the years he built himself a regular fitness empire. A chain of gyms, books, magazines… He’s done cameos on numerous movies and shows, and is one of the most recognizable faces of the fitness culture as it exploded onto the scene in the eighties. Only Jane Fonda is probably more famous than Randy Hancock.”

“And does your client have enemies, Mr. Garter?”

“Oh, sure. What celebrity hasn’t? Jealous competitors, disgruntled customers, the inevitable nutjobs. You name it, Randy’s got it.”

“Anyone in particular you can think of who could be behind this recent campaign of threats?”

The man shifted on the leather couch, making it squeak a little and causing him to blush.“Um, what form did these threats come in? I mean, did he get letters with the words cut out of newspapers, like in the old days?”

“He received a video that contained the threat,” said Odelia, who didn’t want to go into detail.

“A video, huh?” The man licked his lips again, and once more his eyes shot to those liquor bottles safely tucked away in the glass liquor cabinet. “I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me. I mean, he just disappeared. Doesn’t pick up his phone, left his house—even his housekeeper doesn’t know where he is.”

“In the email he said he was going off the grid for a while. At least until the person threatening him is caught.”

“Has he gone to the cops?”

“No, he prefers not to involve the police.”

“Weird,” muttered the guy. “Usually Randy loves to go the cops. A couple of months ago a pigeon shat on his Ferrari and he immediately called the cops, claiming the pigeon probably belonged to one of his neighbors. So he filed an official complaint against person or persons unknown and against the offending pigeon in particular.”

“A shitting pigeon is a different kettle of fish than a death threat,” she pointed out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, anyway, if he gets in touch with you again, please tell him to call me, will you? I’ve been worried sick.”

“You have a close relationship with Randy?”

“Oh, sure. I consider Randy more a friend than a client. If you’ve been in the trenches together for as long as we have, and came up together, it creates a bond, Miss Poole. Which is why I’m a little disappointed he hasn’t been in touch.” He shrugged. “This death threat business must have really spooked him.” Then he swallowed. “Unless…” He gave her a keen look—his shifty little eyes studying her closely. “Unless Randy thinks I’m the one behind the whole thing. That’s it, isn’t it? He thinks I’m the one threatening him.”

“Are you?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? I just told you Randy is my friend. I would never… Besides, what’s the upshot? What…” He narrowed his eyes at her, looking more like a rat now than ever. “This is all about money, isn’t it? These people sending this video, they want money.”

Odelia smiled.“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss—”

“Look, if it’s money they want, they’re barking up the wrong tree. Randy is broke. Flat broke. So they’re targeting the wrong guy.”

Odelia stared at the man.“Flat broke? Randy Hancock, the fitness millionaire?”

Mr. Garter laughed.“Millionaire! That’s a good one, Miss Poole. Once upon a time, maybe. In the nineties. Since then he’s squandered his entire fortune. All of it. Gone!”

“But… how?”

The fitness guru’s manager tapped his nose. “Drugs. Randy has snorted more nose candy than anyone I know. And that’s saying something, as I know a lot of people.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. Dead serious. He’s been in and out of rehab countless times—not that the general public knows anything about this, of course. We carefully kept his addiction problems a secret. It wouldn’t do for the man known to the general public as the propounder of the fitness revolution to be a coke addict. Lately he’s gotten his disease under control, more or less. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s completely broke.”

“But his videos—his fitness clubs…”

“He sold his chain of clubs years ago. They still carry his name but they’re run by a group of investors. He gets some money for the use of his name and image, but less than you’d expect. And his videos stopped selling in the late nineties, earlies noughties. The home video market collapsed with the advent of the internet, and Randy completely missed the boat on that one. Too busy doing drugs to bother. Oh, he’s on YouTube now, but he was late to the party—too late. Other fitness gurus are riding that wave, not him. And also, he’s been down in the dumps these last couple of months, because of his pelvis operation.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell him I said this, but Randy Hancock, the fitness legend, hasn’t done a fitness routine or fitness class… in years.”

Chapter 24

We’d only just entered the apartment of Randy Hancock’s manager when a smallish Siamese cat came stalking up to us and started hissing noisily.

“It’s all right!” I said. “We’re not here to stay. Just to pay a visit to your human and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Literally,” said Harriet, who regarded a bit of fluff the Siamese had lost with a critical eye.

“This is my home, cats,” said the Siamese. “So if you like your faces free of scratches I’d get out while you still can. I won’t be held responsible for the consequences!”

“Oh, cool it, cat,” said Harriet. “We don’t want to be here either, but our human dragged us along on this investigation so here we are. Now what can you tell us about Randy Hancock? And please don’t hold back on the dirt you can dish on the guy. He’s sweet on our human and we don’t like it one bit.”

The cat immediately stopped hissing, her interest piqued.“Randy Hancock? The fitness guy?”

“One and the same,” I said, glancing around. We’d left the living room, where Odelia was conducting her interview, and had followed our noses until we found ourselves in the man’s bedroom, where we’d encountered this very hostile Siamese. Then again, hostility is often par for the course with the Siamese of the species.

“How do you know Randy?” asked the cat, still continuing to be suspicious.

“He’s moved in with us,” I said.

“And having an affair with one of our humans,” Harriet added.

“He’s going to marry her unless we can stop the wedding,” Dooley finished.

“Marry your human!” said the cat. “Fat chance! Randy isn’t the marrying kind, cats.”

“Max,” I said, holding out my paw. “And this is Dooley and Harriet.”

“Freya,” said the Siamese reluctantly and eyed my paw with suspicion. “Look, Randy Hancock is the kind of guy who has affairs, but doesn’t want to be tied down. So if he’s managed to seduce your human, there will not be a marriage in his future.”

“His future? Her future, you mean.”

“Her? You mean your human is a woman?”

“Sure. Marge Poole. She’s actually my human’s mom,” I explained.

“Randy dating a woman,” said Freya with a slight grin, the first time she’d displayed any other emotion than sheer hostility. “Now I know you’re pulling my paw, Max. Randy Hancock might have become the go-to person for middle-aged ladies to lose some of that flab, but he’d never marry one of them, let alone try to seduce them.”

“Why?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

“Because Randy Hancock is gay, of course!” said Freya. “He has flings, not with women, but young men. Pool boys, waiters, masseurs, assistants—you name it, and he’s tried to make out with them. But women? Never. So your human is quite safe,” she concluded with that same grin still firmly attached to her furry features.

“I don’t understand, Max,” said Dooley. “What is she talking about?”

“Randy Hancock is gay, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Just like Lil Ran told us.”

“Oh, okay,” said Dooley, surprising me by not asking a bunch of follow-up questions.

“Do you know anything about a death threat Randy received?” I asked now, deciding to tackle the meat of our investigation.

“Death threat? Why would Randy receive a death threat? He’s the sweetest guy I know.”

“And the gayest,” Dooley added.

“Yeah, that, too,” said Freya with a curious glance at my friend.

“He received a video of someone injecting him with a lethal poison,” I explained. “And if he doesn’t pay this person ten million dollars, he won’t receive the antidote and he will die in three days,” I added, putting all the facts pertaining to the case in the Siamese cat’s possession, to do with as she pleased.

“Wow, that’s terrible,” said the cat. “Three days to live, huh? And Randy not having any money to pay off these people. Not a dime.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “I thought he was rich.”

“Randy isn’t rich. He’s broke. My human has been working for him for free for the last couple of months, hoping he’ll go back to being his biggest moneymaker, but I think we can all agree that’s not going to happen. Not at his age, at least, and in his condition.”

“What condition?” asked Harriet. “He looks fine to me.”

“He’s not. He hasn’t performed a workout routine in years. Busted hips, and then he broke his pelvis a couple of months ago on top of that. It’s pretty tough to move like a panther when your hips are shot, let me tell you. And I can speak from experience.” She pointed at her own hips. “I’ve been having some issues and it’s not a barrel of laughs.”

“But how did Randy’s hips get busted?” asked Dooley. “Did he do too much fitness?”

Freya laughed.“Too much fitness, yeah right. Too much nookie, that’s what he did!”

“Nookie?” asked Dooley, giving me a look of confusion.

“Too much exercise,” I said quickly, earning myself a strange look from Freya.

“And drugs, of course,” said the Siamese, who seemed to know an awful lot about our celebrity guest. “The man has managed to spend his entire fortune on nose candy, which is why there’s nothing left to pay off these blackmailers.”

“Nose candy?” asked Dooley.

“Candy you put in your nose,” I said. A little lamely, I admit, but I had to think fast.

“Okay,” said my friend, but still had that puzzled look on his face that told me he’d be asking me a lot of questions later on.

“Look, if I were you, I’d simply tell Randy to get his act together, and go to the police,” said Freya. “He’s not doing your humans any favors by hiding away there. If people are really after him it’s probably the dealers he forgot to pay, or the people he borrowed money from and didn’t pay back. And let me tell you, these people play hardball.”

“I like my balls soft,” said Dooley. “Soft and squishy.”

“Yeah, me, too,” said Freya with an amused expression on her face. It was a nice change from before, when she’d treated us like intruders in her home. “I like you, Dooley,” she said. “You’re very funny.”

“Thanks,” said Dooley happily. “You’re pretty funny, too, Freya.”

The Siamese cat laughed.“It’s the first time anyone has ever called me funny!”

There has to be a first time for everything, and at least now we had enough dirt on Randy to convince Marge not to divorce Tex and marry the fitness guru. Though, like I said, love is blind, and we probably could use a lot more!

Chapter 25

Tex went through the motions of giving his celebrity patient a full physical, though frankly he still thought it was a much better idea for the man to go to the hospital and get himself checked out properly. If he had been injected with some unknown toxin, Tex wouldn’t be able to help him anyway.

“You know, Tex,” said Randy now, as Tex tapped the man’s knee with a little hammer and watched his leg bob up prettily, “you are a very lucky man.”

“In what sense?” asked the doctor as he tapped the man’s other knee and noticed the same reaction.

“Your wife,” said Randy with a smile. “You have a wonderful little lady there, Tex. Marge is something else.”

The doctor directed a look of censure at the man. He didn’t like it when other men spoke of Marge this way. Overly familiar, he thought. “I know,” he said curtly.

“No, I don’t think you do,” Randy continued. “How long have you been married, Tex?”

“Twenty-five years,” said Tex automatically as he now shone a light into the man’s eye and observed his pupil response.

“Long time for a couple to be married.”

“Yeah, and happily married, too, in case you were wondering.”

“Do you mind if I speak frankly, Tex?”

He did, but instead said,“No, go ahead.”

“I see a lot of couples in my line of work, as you can imagine. In fact I must have taught classes to thousands of people, men and women alike, but mostly women, and a lot of them are unhappy, Tex, and do you know why?”

“I have no idea,” he said, as he wrapped an inflatable cuff around the man’s arm and started pumping.

“Because their husbands take them for granted. These women sweat through countless hours of my fitness routines, all so they can look good to their husbands, and do you know how those husbands respond? By totally ignoring them! Can you imagine?”

“Real shame,” Tex murmured, wondering when this guy was going to shut up. For a man who was about to die he was pretty darn lively.

“When was the last time you took Marge out on a date, Tex?”

“A date? Um…”

“That long, huh?” said Randy with a sad smile. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Tex. Don’t take your wife for granted. One day you will come home and she won’t be there.”

He gave his patient a look of alarm.“What do you mean? Has she said something to you about leaving?”

“No, but I can see it in her eyes. Marge is unhappy, Tex. She misses the spark.”

“Spark? What spark? What are you talking about?”

“The spark! When a man meets a woman and there’s that spark—that moment when they look into each other’s eyes and sparks fly. You know what I mean. But after twenty-five years of marriage that spark is long gone, and your wife, Doctor Poole, misses it.”

“She does, does she?”

“Of course she does! Here, look me in the eye, Tex.”

Reluctantly Tex looked the man in the eye.

“Now take my hands.”

He took the fitness legend’s hands, which were surprisingly soft and tender.

Randy smiled as he gazed softly into Tex’s eyes, then said. “Now pay attention.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the way this scene was playing out.

“Do you feel it, Tex?”

“Feel what?”

“The connection. Do you feel the connection?”

“Um…”

Randy dropped Tex’s hands and sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, Tex. No wonder Marge is thinking about leaving you! You gotta make an effort, Doc. You gotta make an effort to make this marriage of yours work—to recapture that spark!”

“But…” He was so shocked to hear that Marge was thinking about leaving him that his knees suddenly went a little weak, and a shiver ran down his spine. “Are you serious, Randy?”

“Just call me Ran-Ran. Yeah, I’m serious. She practically threw herself into my arms last night, Doc. Lucky for you I don’t swing that way, but imagine if I did.”

Tex imagined, and shivered some more. In fact he was quaking so much now he felt like a blancmange.“You’re kidding, right? Pulling my leg?” he asked hopefully.

“I’m dead serious here, Tex. So my advice to you is to find that spark before you find your bed not slept in, and your wife’s suitcase packed in the corridor. It’s not too late, you know. She still loves you. Now please let go before you reduce my fingers to a pulp.”

Tex, who’d been squeezing the fitness guru’s fingers tightly, let go, swaying a little in the breeze.

“Come here, Doc,” said Randy, and took the doctor in a close embrace, rubbing his back as he did. “That’s it. Just let it all out.”

“I didn’t know,” he said shakily.

“I know. Men never do.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Oh, heck.”

“I know.” There was more rubbing, and it felt kinda soothing. And so the two men stood there for a while, until Randy said, “Chase Kingsley and your daughter. Are they the real deal, you think? Or do I have a shot?”

Immediately Tex let go and eyed the man with a look of censure.“What?”

“Nothing,” said Randy with a shrug, then climbed onto the exam table again. “Keep going, Doc. You’ve got great hands. I’ve almost forgotten I’m about to die in three days.”

Immediately Tex felt bad about his attitude toward this poor guy.“I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “It’s just that…”

“I know, I know. Say, do you give back rubs, Doc? With hands like yours I’ll bet you give a great massage.” And with these words, he abruptly stripped and plunked himself down on the exam table. “Start from the bottom,” he instructed. “And you can be as rough as you like. I get ticklishwhen massage therapists are too gentle.”

And so for the first time in his life Tex found himself being reduced to masseur, wondering how in heaven’s name he was going to get the ‘spark’ back into his marriage.

Chapter 26

Vesta Muffin was enjoying a hot cocoa with lots of cream and chocolate sprinkles on top. She and Scarlett were in the outside dining area of the Hampton Cove Star hotel.

“I don’t know, Scarlett,” she said as she took a sip from her delicious drink, “but I think from now on it’s just you and me.”

“Are you sure?” said her friend, who was sipping from her own drink, a flat white, then taking a bite of the mini pastries the waiter had been so kind to provide.

As usual Scarlett was dressed to impress in a tight dress, her assets squeezed so tightly together it gave Vesta a headache to look at them. Men passing by cricked their necks turning to stare at her, and the local chiropractor would soon have a field day.

“Yeah, Wilbur was a washout, and I don’t want him in the watch anymore. And Father Reilly is pretty useless as a watch member too, you gotta admit.”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” said Scarlett. She sighed. “So it’s just you and me, huh?”

“Yep. That’s the way it looks.”

“Too bad things didn’t work out with Wilbur,” said Scarlett. “Maybe you caught him on a bad night?”

“More like a bad decade. He’s always been an idiot, but never more so than last night. Do you know he kept ogling other women while he was supposed to be out on a date with me? I hate when men do that.”

“Yeah, Wilbur fashions himself something of a ladies’ man, but there’s not many ladies who want a man like that.”

“So why did you set me up on a date with the guy, may I ask?”

“Well, frankly there’s not many men who want to go out on a date with you either, Vesta! You are a little… rough around the edges, you know.”

Vesta knew perfectly well that she wasn’t everyone’s taste, but to hear it from the lips of her best friend… “So maybe you should stop trying to set me up, all right?”

“I was only trying to do you a favor!”

“Well, don’t! I don’t need any favors. Least of all from you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a painted hussy!”

“At least this painted hussy gets plenty of action thank you very much!”

Both women were silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry I called you a painted hussy,” said Vesta, offering an apologetic smile.

“And I’m sorry I called you a dried-up old prune,” said Scarlett.

Vesta’s smile vanished. “A dried-up old prune?”

“Did I just say that out loud? I’m sorry.” When her friend didn’t respond, but merely gave her a sour look, she sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I know you’re worried about your cat, and about your daughter falling head over heels in love with that fitness clown.”

“Would you call Randy Hancock a clown?”

“Yeah, I would. I never liked the guy. He doesn’t even look like a fitness instructor.”

“Not all fitness instructors look like Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett.”

“Well, they should, all right? Just like all bakers should be round and jolly, and all butchers should look like they’re ready to chop you up into little pieces. It’s part of the deal. If you’re going around promising to make people fit and muscular, you should look like a hunk and not likea vertically challenged clown.”

“Okay, fine. Point taken. So how do we go about this? How do we get my cat back? And how do we make sure Marge doesn’t dump my son-in-law for the fitness dude?”

“I think what Tex needs is that virility women fall for in a man. I’m sorry to tell you this but Tex looks like a wuss. And women don’t like a wuss. They like a caveman.”

“So you suggest we turn Tex into a caveman, is that it?”

“Of course! No woman can resist a caveman, Vesta. It’s built into our DNA ever since we lived together in caves.” She gave her friend a curious look. “Are you sure you want to keep Tex around, though? You’re always on the guy’s case.”

“I’m always on the guy’s case because I like him.”

Scarlett chuckled.“You’re a strange one, Vesta.”

“And still you like me.”

“Oh, sure. Life is never boring when you’re around. So let’s start with your cat. Where could he have gone off to?”

“No idea. But seeing as we gotta start somewhere, I suggest we ask his friends.” And she darted a look across the street, where Wilbur Vickery’s General Store was located. In front of that store sat Kingman, Wilbur’s piebald, best-informed cat in Hampton Cove. Behind the counter, though, sat the guy she dumped last night. But since finding Brutus was more important than her own wounded pride—or Wilbur’s, she drained her hot cocoa and got up. “Let’s go,” she said. “We’ve got a bruised male ego to massage.”

Chapter 27

The house where Randy Hancock lived was pretty impressive I had to admit. Just like in the video we’d seen, there was the white wrought-iron access gate, the white columns supporting the portico like a Greek temple, and the house itself, done in pink stucco.

Once inside, the same sweeping marble staircase as in the video led upstairs, presumably to the same bedroom, where an unknowing Randy had been injected with a mysterious and deadly toxin.

Randy’s housekeeper Floralba was a lady in her sixties, with dark curly hair and a round face. She looked at us sternly, her dark brows stuck in a frown.

“I not understand,” she said when Odelia asked her what she knew of the death threats made against her boss.

“Well, Randy asked me to conduct an investigation into these death threats,” Odelia repeated, “and so now I’m talking to all the people who know him, trying to find out who could have sent that video. It wasn’t you by any chance, was it?” she asked, eyeing the woman closely.

It’s a technique detectives often use: they drop a bomb like that and then look closely for a reaction. Most people aren’t trained actors, and their emotions are reflected on their faces for everyone to see.

Floralba, though, merely looked amused.“Me! Try to kill Mr. Randy! You must be mad woman, Miss Poole. I love Mr. Randy. I work for Mr. Randy thirty years! Mr. Randy and I are like this!” And she squeezed her index finger and thumb together, presumably to show how much she liked her boss.

“So you have no idea who could have sent him that video?” asked Odelia.

“No idea,” said Floralba.

We were still in the entrance, an atrium that was as impressive as the front of the house: it was two stories high, and contained a very large portrait of Randy Hancock, dressed in his token sequined outfit and looking very fit indeed. There was also a large lion to our right—luckily not a real one but a marble representation of the lord of the jungle, and another large statue of a puma to our left.

“Mr. Randy is beloved, Miss Poole—beloved by all. Everybody love him. His clients. His family. His people. Even the pool boy love Mr. Randy. And Mr. Randy love pool boy, too. Very much. And gardener, and masseur, and—”

“Did Mr. Hancock ever talk to you about this video?”

“No, he did not. He does not like me to worry. Mr. Randy like me too much and hate me to worry about him. Like with his hips. He in a lot of pain. Lot of pain. And I see it in his face. I say Mr. Randy you so much pain, you poor thing. Let me take you to my daughter—my daughter she doctor but use traditional Colombian medicine to heal people. Mr. Randy go to my daughter one time, and she treat him with smoky leaves. Mr. Randy like smoky leaves little too much. Sing songs for two days and no more pain! But Mr. Randy doctor says no good for Mr. Randy. He in the AA and can’t smoke. Too bad.”

“He’s AA?” asked Odelia, curious.

“Oh, yes. Ten years and counting. Mr. Randy very strong. He never touch drop of alcohol in all this time in AA. Very, very strong man. Will of steel!”

“But… he did use other things, right?”

The housekeeper sighed deeply.“Mr. Randy very, very weak man. Mr. Randy like white powder. Take white powder all the time through nose. Better than bottle but not good. I throw away white powder but Mr. Randy not happy with me. Hide his white powder where I can’t find it.”

“Is it also true that he hasn’t made much money these last couple of years?”

“Yes, unfortunately hip problem make Mr. Randy can’t work out. No more sessions. No more videos. No more classes for Mr. Randy. Mr. Randy very, very sad. I sad, too.”

“So… where does the money come from to pay you?” asked Odelia. “And to pay for the pool boy?” she added with a smile.

“I not know!” said Floralba, throwing up her arms. “Mr. Randy say he get lots of money. Lots and lots of money. He like to pay me and gardeners and chef and pool boy and cleaners no problem.” She cast a worried look at Odelia. “Where is Mr. Randy, Miss Poole? When Mr. Randy come home?”

“I’m not sure, Floralba,” said Odelia. “But he assured me he’s doing fine, and he’ll be home soon.”

“Poor Floralba,” said Dooley. “She really worries about her boss.”

“And about her job,” Harriet added. She cast a nervous glance at Odelia. “When is she going to stop asking all these questions? It’s clear these people have no idea where the threats are coming from, and meanwhile Brutus is still out there, waiting for us to save him.”

I didn’t want to tell her this, but maybe, just maybe, Brutus had simply decided to take a break from his girlfriend for a little while. Harriet could be a smidgen overbearing sometimes, and Brutus could have gone for a walk in the country, along with his new friend Pinkie. That, and he probably wantedto escape the carrot diet Harriet was on.

In fact I had high hopes that by the time we got back, Brutus would have returned from his wanderings and would greet us from under his favorite rose bush.

Odelia thanked the housekeeper for her time, and went off in search of more people to interview, leaving us to roam the garden, which was very nicely kept indeed.

“If Randy is broke,” I said, “he certainly has been hiding it well. This place must cost a fortune in upkeep.”

“Maybe he’s making his money some other way,” said Harriet. “Or maybe he has a secret benefactor who’s been helping him out financially these past couple of years while he recovers from his pelvis operation and his addiction to illegal substances.”

“So what is this candy Randy likes to put in his nose, Max?” Dooley asked now. “And is that the reason he’s always so happy and so gay?”

“Um, yeah, I guess so, Dooley,” I said.

“I never heard of this habit of putting candy up your nose,” said my friend. “Do you think it’s jellybeans?

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I said after a pause.

“But doesn’t it hurt, Max? Putting jellybeans up your nose? And doesn’t it make it hard to breathe? Unless he only puts one jellybean up his nose at a time, of course.”

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet with a sigh.

Chapter 28

Brutus had been trying to come up with a plan of escape but so far had failed miserably. As far as he could see, the window through which he’d entered the basement was the only way out, except for the staircase, and that’s where Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale were waiting for him—ready to catch him as he tried to make his escape.

So the staircase was out, and the window was now shut tight, and so it looked like he was stuck for the moment, with no way to get out of there.

“I think we’re stuck, Brutus,” said Pinkie, having come to the same conclusion.

“Yeah, I figured that,” said the black cat. “Though maybe they’ll open that window again at some point, wanting to let some air in.”

Speaking of air, he directed a look at the ventilation system. It was the usual kind: aluminum tubes suspended from the ceiling on metal rods and outfitted with vents every few feet. No way to get up there, though, and even if he could reach those vents, he had no way of removing the screws keeping them in place.

“I’m so sorry for putting you in this position, Brutus,” said Pinkie. “I should have left well enough alone and swum away in the ocean when I had the chance.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “We’ll think of a way to get out of here.” He glanced at the large bags filled with fish food. They smelled horrible, but since beggars can’t be choosers… “At least we have plenty of food, so we’re not going to starve to death.”

“Do you like fish food?” asked Pinkie.

“Um… it’s not that bad,” he said. If it was good enough for turtles…

“Your friends will be so worried about you,” said Pinkie, shaking her head sadly.

“Yeah, I guess they will,” he said. He’d been giving a lot of thought to Harriet, and Max and Dooley, and all of his other friends out there, and his humans, too, of course, secretly hoping they were looking for him, and maybe would be able to find him, too. “Look, we’re getting out of here one way or another,” he said, as much to convince himself as to reassure his little friend, “so there’s really no sense in panicking.”

“And my friends?” she said. “Do you think we’ll be able to take them with us?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “As soon as we escape, we’ll tell people what’s going on here, and they’ll come and save your friends.”

Though he wondered what exactly was going on there. Apparently Johnny and Jerry, two career criminals, had set up a new way of getting rich quick. This time by breeding turtles. How they hoped to make money was a mystery to him, though. The only way he thought you could monetize turtles was to turn them into… turtle soup.

But he didn’t have the heart to tell Pinkie about that. The little turtle would probably be horrified. And rightly so. If someone told him they were breeding cats to turn them into cat soup, he’d be horrified, too.

So he put his head down on his front paws and closed his eyes, hoping to catch some sleep, and try not to worry.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Odelia had talked to Randy’s manager, his housekeeper, his pool boy, his cleaner, his gardener, his chef, his accountant, and his sister, and the picture was getting a little clearer: Randy Hancock was broke. He was also an addict. And had become an addict shortly after his double hip operation, first being addicted to the pain killers the doctors had prescribed, and then other, more recreational drugs. Also: Randy, in spite of being known all over the world as a fitness icon and sports legend, hadn’t given a single class in years, nor had he shot a video. All of the stuff online dated back at least fifteen years,and so now she wondered how the man had managed to stay afloat financially.

She drove back to the office, planning to think things through, before confronting Randy with the conclusions of her interviews, and also to drop off her cats in town, so they could start looking for Brutus.

They’d become increasingly anxious as the day wore on, and she could no longer justify them tagging along with her on what was starting to feel like a wild-goose chase.

The people she’d talked to had been highly surprised by the death threat story, and couldn’t imagine who’d want to hurt Randy.

She walked into the Gazette, and knocked on the doorjamb of her editor’s office.

Dan looked up from reading his newspaper, his beard waggling as he laughed at a joke he himself had written. His eyes were lively and sparkling with the light of intelligence as usual, and she hoped he’d be able to point her in the right direction. Often when she was stuck with a story, a conversation with Dan got her right back on track.

“Odelia! I was just wondering who wrote this outstanding piece and then discovered it was me! I keep surprising myself with how funny I am.” When he saw the frown on her face, he put down the paper, let his reading glasses dangle from his neck and folded his hands on his desk. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can see you’re struggling with something.”

“I told you I’m looking into this mysterious poisoning case, remember?”

“Randy Hancock. The fitness tycoon.”

“Only turns out he’s more of a fitness pauper,” she said. And as she took a seat in front of the editor’s desk she proceeded to give him a brief account of that morning’s interviews.

“So the picture that emerges is of a man who had it all, then squandered it on flings with pool boys and recreational drugs,” said Dan, sniffing loudly as if to draw extra oxygen into his brain. “So whoever is extorting him for ten million either doesn’t know him very well, or knows him better than his nearest and dearest and seems to believe that Randy, contrary to what his manager or accountant think, isn’t broke but loaded.”

“So either it’s someone who knows him even better than his manager, or someone who only knows the popular picture of Randy as the multi-millionaire fitness star.”

“Has Chase heard back from his NYPD source yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. I hope they’ll be able to trace the source of that video.”

“And the nature of that toxin.”

“That, too.” Her dad had sent her a cryptic text saying he’d learned a great deal from Randy, but nothing that would interest her. “So how do you think I should proceed?” she asked now. Usually when she was absolutely stuck Dan had some last-minute idea up his sleeve, and she sincerely hoped he did so now.

“I think the answer lies with the man himself,” said Dan slowly. “I think he probably knows more than he thinks he knows.”

“I talked to Randy. He says he has no idea who could be doing this to him.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what he thinks. But very often in a case of blackmail or extortion, the target knows more than they realize.” He tapped his desk. “Schedule another interview with your fallen fitness star. Only this time make it a casual affair. Maybe take him out for dinner and a chat. Loosen him up a little. Get him to talk to you. Open up.”

“I can’t. He doesn’t want to be seen. Even when he went into Dad’s office this morning he put on a wig and some of my mom’s clothes and kept his head down.”

“So maybe organize a nice barbecue and invite him as your star guest. Just make the atmosphere nice and mellow. Family vibe. And pour him a couple of glasses of wine—”

“He’s AA.”

Dan sighed.“Fine, so don’t liquor him up. Fill him with delicious food instead. People always talk more on a full stomach. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll tell you something that will lead you to the perpetrators of this most heinous of crimes.” He winked. “And then of course I expect you to write a nice fat juicy front-page article when this is all over.”

Chapter 29

“Come on, Max,” said Harriet. “Hurry up!”

I hurried as much as I could, but for a big-boned cat like me physical exertion is not always a good idea. I need to take it easy. Take plenty of naps. Make sure I take enough nourishment. And these sprints across town were frankly biting into my nap time big time.

“I should be home right now,” I panted. “I should be sleeping on my couch.”

“What you should have done,” said Harriet censoriously, “is remembered our appointment with Shanille. How could you forget, Max!”

“You forgot too,” I reminded her.

“I’m not the one this wedding will affect. It’s Dooley, and the consequences to him.”

I should probably turn back the clock a little here. If you remember, Dooley was worried that Gran and Wilbur Vickery were about to tie the knot, which would mean that Dooley would have to go and live with Wilbur, and share the man’s home with Kingman, his new brother from another mother.

But then we heard from the horse’s mouth—in this case Gran herself—that her date had been a bad one—just like that date in Indiana Jones’s first movie. And so the danger seemed to have been averted. Phew!

But then Odelia dropped us in town so we could start our search for Brutus, and who did we see? Gran and Scarlett, stalking across the street in the direction of Wilbur Vickery’s General Store. And moments later Gran and Wilbur were engaged in a very lively discussion, which ended in Gran and Wilbur… hugging it out!

Dooley freaked out, and so did I, and Harriet merely said,“See? I told you this would happen,” which of course she hadn’t, but then Harriet just likes to say ‘I told you so’ at every possible occasion because she’s just that kind of cat.

And all of a sudden I remembered the date Shanille had set with us to start preparing for the wedding, and we’d totally blown her off!

Now Shanille is not the kind of cat you blow off. For one thing, as cat choir’s conductor she has the power to kick cats out of her choir, which she has done on more than one occasion, one of those occasions being me, kicked out for singing out of tune!

So that’s why you now find us hurrying along in the direction of St. John’s Church, where Shanille likes to hang out when she’s not in the park for cat choir rehearsals.

We slammed into the church and glanced around the cavernous and half-dark space, hoping to find Shanille still there, patiently waiting for the three of us—well, the four of us, but it was obvious Brutus wouldn’t be keeping his appointment, since he’d disappeared with his pet turtle.

“Shanille?” I said cautiously, my voice echoing through the large space. “Shanille, are you here?”

We trod along the nave to the front of the church, took a left at the altar to where the baptismal font is located, and beyond that to the inner sanctum, where Father Reilly has his office, and where he likes to mentally prepare before Mass, or take the occasional sip of altar wine to screw up his courage before addressing his flock.

“You’ve really gone and done it this time, Max,” Harriet hissed.” You pissed off Shanille, and probably got us all kicked out of cat choir. Thank you very much. And just when things were going so well with my solos!”

“We’ve got a great excuse,” I reminded her. “Trying to save a man who’s about to die is probably the best excuse for missing an appointment, and I’m sure Shanille will agree.”

“What would I agree with, Max?” asked a cold voice speaking to my rear. I whirled around, and found myself face to face with cat choir’s conductor.

“Oh, hi, Shanille,” I said, plastering a pleasant smile onto my face, even though I wasn’t really feeling it. “Um, I’m sorry we’re late, but—”

“Late is when you arrive five minutes past the agreed-upon time, Max,” she said, still proceeding frostily. “You’re exactly four hours late. That simply tells me you don’t care about my time. It’s a kick in the teeth—a knock on the head—a slap in the face!”

“But—”

“I’m disappointed in you, Max. Very disappointed!”

“We were out helping Odelia,” said Harriet. “She’s on a very important case and—”

“Oh? So you’re saying my time isn’t important? Is that it?”

“No, of course it is, but a man is about to die, Shanille,” said Harriet, now also adopting a markedly chilly tone. “And tell me I’m wrong but if a life or death situation crops up I think this wedding prep stuff of yours takes a backseat wouldn’t you agree?”

“Life or death situation? What are you talking about?”

“Randy Hancock,” I said. “He only has three more days to live.”

“Two and a half,” Dooley said blithely.

“And we’re trying to figure out who wants to kill him and get him the antidote he needs.”

“Antidote? This sounds like one of those silly Hollywood blockbusters, Max. Are you sure you’re not making this up as you go along?”

“No, I’m not! Randy is staying at our place, and he is going to die unless we save him.”

“Mh,” said Shanille doubtfully. She clearly wasn’t believing a word I said. “Okay, fine. So do you want to prepare for the wedding ceremony or not?”

“I do,” said Dooley, a little shakily.

“Though what we’d much rather do is stop that wedding,” said Harriet. “Wilbur obviously isn’t the right person for Gran, and our focus should be on stopping the wedding.”

“We have a lot of weddings to stop,” said Dooley. “There’s Marge and Randy’s wedding, and now Gran and Wilbur’s wedding. And meanwhile Brutus is still missing.” He hung his head. “It’s all getting a little bit much, don’t you think, you guys?”

“It’s all right, Dooley,” said Shanille, patting my friend on the head. “Weddings are joyful occasions. They shouldn’t be stopped but encouraged and celebrated. Now let’s practice, shall we? You’re going to be the first flower cat, of course, since the bride is your human, and I was thinking Harriet and Brutus could go next. As for you, Max,” she said, eyeing me critically, “I was actually thinking that you better sit this one out.”

“What do you mean?”

“We want people to enjoy the wedding. It should be a feast for the eyes and a pleasure for the soul. Dooley is simply adorable, and Harriet and Brutus are both gorgeous specimens. But as far as you’re concerned…” She tsk-tsked lightly. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t win any prizes at a cat show, Max.”

“But… why?”

She shrugged.“You’re what us professional wedding planners call too chunky for your own good. And chunky, even though it may have been fashionable in the seventies, along with weird facial hair, is out. And so are you, I’m afraid. Out of the picture.”

“But…”

“Stay out of sight would be my advice. Maybe don’t even bother to show up.”

She turned to my friends, and her smile returned.“Now for you, Dooley, I was thinking daffodils. Maybe a lace bodice? And Harriet, how does the word ‘tiara’ sound?”

And as the wedding preparations continued, I decided to follow Shanille’s advice and take a backseat. In fact I decided not to attend the wedding prep at all, and slouched out of the church. She was right. Nobody likes to see a chunky cat when they’re attending a wedding. People expect beauty and grace, not a flabby tabby waddling along.

I sighed deeply when I exited the church. The only consolation was that Kingman, too, would probably get vetoed by Shanille for being too fat. In fact Wilbur’s cat is even more voluminous than me.

And as my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the day, I suddenly thought I saw two familiar figures driving past the church.

They were Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale. The career criminals were driving a van with a decal that read,‘Pete’s Pet Paradise. We have a heart for pets.’

Chapter 30

Randy Hancock was strolling through town, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling little town. He liked Hampton Cove, and was glad even after all these years that he’d left the big city and had moved there. It wasn’t exactly where the action was, but people were friendly and life was lived at a slower pace, which suited him just fine, after having lived life in the fast lane for far too many years.

He was dressed in a dark wig, and makeup, and a pink pantsuit, and even though people gave him the occasional curious glance, he was satisfied that no one recognized him and that’s what mattered.

He’d perfected this look over the years, dodging paps and his most fanatic fans, and had never been recognized before and didn’t expect to be recognized now.

He was glad he’d had the idea to knock on Odelia’s door and ask her to take on his case. It gave him some respite from his hectic life, which had become even more hectic of late. And poking his nose into the lives of the Poole family certainly agreed with him.

Maybe he should have become a family therapist instead of a fitness instructor!

He passed by a pet shop and glanced in the window, admiring the large fish tank on display there, the colorful fishes flitting around and strutting their stuff for all to see. He smiled, and for the first time in months felt that maybe, just maybe, his future was safe.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Vesta and Scarlett had a plan: Scarlett would distract Wilbur, while Vesta talked to the guy’s cat, and ask Kingman if he’d seen Brutus around. The last thing she expected, though, was for Wilbur to get up from behind his checkout counter, walk over to where she was standing on the sidewalk, and turn a teary face to her and say, “Vesta, I’m so so sorry about last night. I behaved appallingly. Like a real jackass!”

“Yeah, you did,” she said crustily, glancing down at Kingman and trying to signal to the fat cat not to move an inch from where he was lying for she wanted a word with him.

Kingman nodded lazily, indicating he wouldn’t be dislodged from his position come hell or high water.

“I don’t know what came over me,” said the shopkeeper. “I guess I was nervous about our date, and so I started acting out. It’s the only way I can explain what happened.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Wilbur,” said Vesta. “You were simply being yourself.”

“No, I wasn’t! I can be nice, and well-behaved. And I can show you a good time.”

“You tried to fondle me, and kiss me.”

“I was nervous, all right! You’re an impressive woman, Vesta, and I guess I felt intimidated!”

“Yeah, right,” she grunted. “So intimidated you couldn’t stop checking out every single woman who walked past?”

“I didn’t check them out—I was simply too nervous to look at you!”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. But Scarlett has something she needs to ask.”

“Can I at least hug you? Just hug it out? To show me there’s no hard feelings.”

And before she could refuse, he’d already grabbed her in an iron grip and was squeezing her like he liked to squeeze one of his tomatoes before putting them on sale.

“All right, fine!” she said once she managed to get out of his grip. “You’re forgiven. Now will you listen to what Scarlett has to tell you?”

“I’m still in the watch, though, right?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said grudgingly.

“I love the watch, Vesta. I think it’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Keeping people safe. Making sure the criminal element is rooted out permanently.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said.

Finally the shop owner returned behind his counter, and Scarlett formulated her question, which concerned the design of a website for the watch, since Wilbur had set up a website for his store a couple of years ago. It was a bogus question, as Vesta had no intention of setting up a website for the watch at all. But it gave her an opportunity to talk to Kingman. So while she pretended to look at the magazine stand, she whispered,“Kingman!”

“Yah!” Kingman whispered back with a conspiratorial grin on his face.

“Have you seen Brutus? He’s gone missing!”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Kingman studied her for a moment, then shook his head.“I can never tell with you humans.”

“I’m not joking, okay! He’s disappeared.”

“Can’t help you, I’m afraid,” said Kingman. “I haven’t seen him, and he hasn’t told me he was going someplace either. Though he did mention something about freeing turtles last night during cat choir. He was standing next to me—us both being in the baritone section and all—and he seemed really into this whole turtle theme.”

“Turtles?”

“Yah. I’m afraid I didn’t pay a lot of attention. Not being into turtles myself.”

“Who is?” said Vesta, thinking hard. She’d taken Brutus to the beach yesterday—him and his turtle, which was weird enough. “So where did he say these turtles were?”

“At the pond,” said Kingman. “Don’t ask me what pond, though.”

“There’s only one pond in town.”

“At the park,” Kingman said with a nod. “But as far as I know there’s no turtles in that pond, only ducks.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Vesta. Mysteriouser and mysteriouser.

“Vesta! Wilbur wants to know about the color scheme for the website!” Scarlett yelled.

“Gotta go,” Vesta whispered. “If you hear anything…”

“I’ll tell your cats,” Kingman assured her with a wink. “Though if you ask me, this turtle business is just a ruse. I’ll bet Brutus has gone off on a toot. Celebrate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“You and Wilbur, of course! Congrats, by the way. And welcome to your new home.”

“Ugh,” said Vesta, and got up. Cats. They were worse at spreading gossip than a bunch of old ladies at the hairdresser.

Chapter 31

Odelia stood staring out the kitchen window in her parents’ house. She had a lot on her mind. First there was the fact that Randy Hancock only had two and a half more days to live, and that the people responsible hadn’t been in touch since sending in their demand for ten million dollars, which according to her investigations the man simply didn’t have. And then there was the fact that her own mother was having an affair with Randy, even though the man’s sexual inclination apparently didn’t lean to the fairer sex.

On top of that Brutus had gone missing, and Gran was dating what was without a doubt the most ineligible bachelor in all of Hampton Cove. What was she even thinking!

Behind her, Mom entered the kitchen.“Hey, honey. You look pensive. Everything all right?”

“Mom, we need to talk,” she said, and took a seat at the table. “Look, I know it’s probably none of my business, but Chase saw you and Randy last night. You were on his bed and he was naked and… well, we’re both grown-ups so we don’t need to go into any graphic details. All I want to say is that I hope this is just a fling, because I think Dad is one of the most wonderful husbands and fathers any woman could ever hope to—”

“Let me stop you right there,” said Mom, holding up a hand. She looked incredulous. “Are you seriously suggesting I’m having an affair with Randy Hancock?”

“Well, Chase saw you, so…” She frowned. “You mean you’re not having an affair?”

“Of course not! All I did was confide in Randy about certain… stuff, and he was so kind to offer me advice and a much-appreciated hug.”

“But…”

“Look, honey. I know how blessed I am with your father, but sometimes even the best husband in the world can suddenly seem like… not enough.” She sighed and fiddled with the salt shaker. “The thing is, with all that’s been going on—your upcoming wedding, and my brother and Charlene getting together, and Ma dating Wilbur—I just feel very keenly how little romance there is in my own life. How the fire has gone out of my relationship with your dad. And it’s made me feel sad, and a little lonely, and… well, Randy suddenly showing up here, and being so nice to me… It just made me think, you know.”

“Mom, you do want an affair with Randy, don’t you?”

“So what if I do? He’s a very handsome man, and very virile, and ever so sweet.”

“You do know that Randy is, um, batting for the other team, don’t you?”

Mom frowned.“What are you talking about? Randy is most certainly not gay. If he were I would have noticed a long time ago.”

“I talked to his manager today, and his accountant, and his housekeeper, and a bunch of other people who’ve known him for years, and they all told me the same thing: Randy is as gay as they come, and his favorite thing in the world is to engage in flings with young men ranging from pool boys togardeners to masseurs to cleaners to plumbers…”

Her mother looked startled by this.“Oh,” she said. “Oh, dear.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to give Dad another chance, Mom? You’re not seriously thinking about leaving him, are you?” The last thing she wanted was for her parents to split up. She really couldn’t imagine a thing like that. Though judging from the expression on her mother’s face it was exactly what she was contemplating.

“I honestly don’t know, honey,” said Mom. “It’s just that being around Randy has made me reevaluate my whole life, and now I simply don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Mom…” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Look, if you like Randy so much, and obviously he likes you, maybe you can do me a favor.”

“What is it?”

“Dan suggested I talk to Randy about what’s going on with him—with the poisoning and all. He suggests Randy probably knows more than he realizes. And if only I can get him to open up…”

Mom smiled.“You want me to talk to him, is that it? Make him open up to me?”

“You two seem very close.”

“There is a real bond between us,” Marge said. “A romantic bond, I thought, but obviously that isn’t the case.” She made a decision. “I’ll invite him over for dinner.”

“Maybe better do it at my place. Dad won’t like it when you and Randy have a cozy t?te-?-t?te in his own home.”

“Good idea,” said Marge. “So maybe you and Chase can conveniently get out of the house tonight, so it will just be me and Randy. A candlelight dinner will probably do the trick.”

Her mother seemed excited about the idea. A little bit too excited, Odelia thought. But if what his associates said about Randy was true, there was no danger of a romantic entanglement whatsoever. And if Mom could get Randy to open up, maybe they could finally get at the heart of what was going on.

Deep down, he probably knew exactly who was targeting him and why. They just needed to give him a gentle nudge in the right direction, and if anyone could provide that nudge, it was Mom—with the sweet way she had about her and her kind demeanor.

She got up.“Have you heard from Gran? Is she going to keep dating Wilbur?”

“Oh, I certainly hope not,” said her mom immediately. “That man is the worst possible candidate for your grandmother.”

“Dooley is very worried. He thinks they’re going to get married and that he’ll have to go live with Wilbur from now on.”

“Yes, Tex is salivating at the thought of Ma striking out on her own. He’s also giving serious thought about replacing your grandmother as his receptionist. And I can’t blame him. She’s hardly ever there.”

“I know,” said Odelia. “Oh, have you seen Brutus? He seems to have disappeared.”

“No, I haven’t. Are you sure he’s not at your place?”

“No, and the cats haven’t seen him since last night. Harriet is frantic with worry.”

“Oh, dear. So many things happening right now.”

“And all since Randy has come to stay with us, have you noticed?”

Mom’s expression hardened. “I’m sure your grandmother dating the wrong man and Brutus going missing has nothing to do with Randy, honey. You can’t blame the poor man for everything. Let’s not forget he’s a victim in this—an innocent victim of his success.”

Clearly Mom was completely under the fitness guru’s spell, Odelia thought as she set foot for her own little home.

Chapter 32

Lil Ran wasn’t feeling happy—not with himself but also not with these new humans he and his own human were staying with. Instead of helping Randy save his life all they seemed to care about was that weird old grandmother’s dating life, or Marge Poole’s dating life, or even Randy’s dating life.

They should be out there looking for the killer, but instead they were looking for one of the cats who’d gone missing.

Now Lil Ran wasn’t going to say anything bad about those cats. They were nice enough, but all they did was spend time singing in some choir in the park, and even though he’d enjoyed singing with Fifi and Rufus, compared with Randy’s life being in danger these idle pursuits simply weren’t important right now.

And now the cats had been gone all day, and they hadn’t even asked him to tag along, even though by rights he should have been asked, since he was a dog, and not just any dog but Randy’s dog, and that reporter woman, Odelia Poole, had interviewed a bunch of Randy’s people, and had discovered exactly nothing if he’d heard her right.

So with barely more than two days before Randy was about to die a painful and miserable death, she had nothing—and was no closer to saving his precious human’s life!

All day Lil Ran had spent in that backyard going a little loopy, so he decided the time had come for action. If these humans and their cats weren’t going to save Randy, he would. And to that end, he decided to rope in the assistance of his new friends Fifi and Rufus.

Fifi, when he approached her with the idea, didn’t seem overly excited.

“But I’m not a detective, Lil Ran,” she said from her side of the fence.

“Neither am I, Fifi, but I have to do something, and I can’t do it alone. So won’t you please help me?”

“I don’t know, Lil Ran…”

“Imagine if this was your human. Would you want Kurt to die from some strange and mysterious poison administered while he slept?”

“Is that a trick question?” asked the little doggie.

“You’d do whatever you could to save his life, wouldn’t you?”

“Um, I guess I would,” said Fifi, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Look, all I’m saying is we go out there and hunt for clues. How hard can it be?”

“Very hard,” said Fifi. “Maybe we better wait for Max. He’s a very good detective. He’ll know what to do.”

“Max is just a cat, Fifi. How can a cat be a good detective?”

“Oh, but he is. He’s solved a lot of cases for his human. He has a knack for it.”

Lil Ran didn’t mind the large orange cat. He even thought he was pretty nice. But a detective? No way. Cats weren’t cut out to be detectives. They lacked the instinct. Dogs, on the other hand, were born detectives. “Okay, so what’s holding you back?” he asked.

“If Kurt finds out I’m gone, he’ll worry,” said Fifi. “He even worries when I take off to play with the other dogs at the dog park.”

“He won’t even know you’re gone,” said the large Irish Setter. “We’ll leave once it’s dark, and Kurt will be fast asleep by then.”

Fifi thought about this for a moment, then nodded.“Okay. I’ll do it. But on one condition.”

“Anything,” said Lil Ran, who didn’t know the lay of the land as well as Fifi.

“Like I said, we wait for Max to return, and we ask his advice first.”

Lil Ran rolled his eyes.“All right, fine. So we’ll ask the big orange cat.”

“Blorange,” said Fifi.

“What?”

“Blorange. Max is very specific about that.”

“Are you sure blorange is even a real color?”

“Absolutely. Now let’s ask Rufus,” said Fifi, and tripped through the hole in the fence and led the way through Odelia’s backyard, into Marge and Tex’s backyard, and up to where Rufus lived. The big sheepdog barked happily when he saw them coming.

“Hey, buddies. So are we on for dog choir tonight?”

“Lil Ran has an even better idea,” said Fifi. “We’re going sleuthing.”

“Sleuthing?” asked Rufus. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to save my human’s life,” said Lil Ran proudly. He might have fumbled the ball when he’d allowed those dastardly poisoners to enter the house undetected and injected his human with a life-ending toxin, but he was going to make up for that now.

“What do you say, Rufus?” said Fifi. “Do you want to solve a crime tonight? Walk in the footsteps of the great detectives?”

“But I’m not a detective, you guys,” said the big fluffy dog. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Exactly what I said!” said Fifi. “Which is why we’ll consult with Max first, and he’ll tell us what to do.”

“Oh,” said Rufus, nodding. “Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. If Max says it’s fine, of course I’ll come with you.”

Lil Ran rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan of exasperation. What was all this business about Max? These two mutts seemed to have more respect for a stupid cat than for one of their own!

At least he had secured himself the assistance of two sidekicks. And if things went according to plan, very soon now they’d be out there, chasing the bad guys.

He frankly couldn’t wait!

Chapter 33

I wasn’t exactly feeling on top of the world, and I think you’ll excuse me for feeling like that. Imagine you were kicked out of the wedding of one of your own humans because you were deemed not aesthetically pleasing enough to be allowed to parade in front of the wedding guests. I’d bet you wouldn’t feel so hot either, right?

And I’d been idly wandering through town, my mind a jumble of thoughts, when once again I came upon that van I’d seen before, the one driven by Johnny and Jerry. This time it was parked right outside the same pet shop depicted on the decal: Pete’s Pet Paradise.

Johnny and Jerry are two crooks who’ve been on their way to being reformed for so long it’s hard to imagine they’ll ever get there. They’ve been stumbling back onto the path of crime more than once, but then probably every addict has a hard time staying on the straight and narrow path to sobriety the first time out—or at least so I’ve been told.

And since I’m always curious to know what those two crooks are up to, I decided to take a closer look at this pet shop.

It was of course possible that they’d finally found gainful employ, and were now two law-abiding citizens, but somehow I doubted it.

On the other hand, pet shops aren’t usually associated with the life of crime, and I didn’t see what they could possibly hope to gain by breeding and selling pets to unsuspecting customers.

I glanced through the window and saw Johnny acting the part of a salesman, a hamster in a small cage placed on the counter, the ex-con talking to a man with a small child and presumably extolling the virtues of owning and caring for that hamster.

I then noticed a basement window, set low in a recess. The window had a half-busted metal grille in front of it, and I now wondered what they might be hiding down there.

Call it my natural feline curiosity. Some people say that it has the power to kill, but so far I’d always escaped my nosy parker tendencies with my life, so I was prepared to take my chances.

So I hopped down into that recess, and took a peek through the window. All I could see were very large tanks. They were blue in color, made of some kind of plastic, and reminded me of the inflatable pool Chase had once bought us so Odelia could teach us how to swim. It hadn’t been Chase’s finest hour—or mine for that matter.

Inside those large tanks I could see a mass of writhing forms. They could be fishes, or they could be… turtles. Yes, they were unmistakably turtles, and plenty of them, too.

I frowned at the strange sight. What would a pet shop need this many turtles for? The market for pet turtles might be larger than I thought—I will readily admit I’m not exactly an expert on turtles kept as pets—but surely not to this extent.

And then I saw the other half of the criminal duo: Jerry was walking along the tanks, dumping in fish food from large bags placed against the basement wall. He was strewing the fish food with a generous hand, like a farmer sowing seeds onto fertile soil.

The little turtles all scrambled to gobble up the tiny nuggets of food, and I watched the spectacle with a curious eye.